what now

i'm about to get really cranky and opinionated.  so if you're going to be offended, don't read further. 

i am currently being paid time and a half (happy memorial day) to sit in my patient's room (while she sleeps) and make sure that she is safe (ie. doesn't attempt to kill herself with IV tubing or slippers or her spoon).  don't get me wrong.  i feel for patient's with psychiatric disorders.  anyone that tries to kill herself more than 100 times is obviously not normal.

BUT...

i'm angry at the system.  why is my psych patient on an oncology unit?  our beds are the most expensive in the house.  why is she 26 years old and nobody has been able to help her?  how is she able to manipulate so many people into getting what she wants?  why can someone like this have children and people that i know and love who want children more than anything cannot?  what should our state do with people with mental disorders?

i feel kind of angry.  and helpless really.  i'm certainly not equipped to help this woman.  and so many people before me (who are) have failed.  so, what now? 

DANGER

i have a lot to say about my job.  about everything really.

for instance...

today i cared for a 26 year old woman with multiple psychiatric disorders.  she has attempted suicide more than 100 times.  and has procreated twice.  her children will never know her.  they are probably better off for that.  

and...

last thursday, my patient died at 9:03 in the morning.  her daughter-in-law requested a hug from me even though we just met.  and she said, "i don't know how you do what you do.  it must be so hard."  

it is...

but all i feel like saying at the moment is, my colleague got poop IN HIS EYE yesterday.  

nursing is dangerous.  

heartstrings

certain things tug at heartstrings.  for some people, it's animals.  for others, it's hallmark commercials.  kids tend to hug at my heartstrings and i'm not even a mother yet.

i worked on monday and tuesday.

on monday, a patient on our unit was getting her second stem cell transplant.  soon after her first one, she relapsed.  and hence, needed a second one to cure her disease and give her the best chance at living life with her darling family.  she was not my patient.  but her nurse asked some of us to join him in singing happy birthday to his patient.  sometimes we do this.  sometimes i do this.  especially when i like my patient and they are positive and kind and i think they might get a kick out of a dozen or so nurses singing a horrible rendition of happy birthday while they are getting their transplant.  so we sang.  and the patient smiled.  her 3 year old son snuggled up beside her in bed.  beaming with pride.  singing along.  what is it about kids and happy birthday?  they LOVE it.

and i cried.  i couldn't help but be touched.  by the child's innocence.  his love.  his momma's love.  and her fear - that this might not work.  that she might be celebrating her last "birthday" with her son.

on tuesday, my day was a whirlwind.  i played nurse, tour guide, and secretary.  nurses wear many hats.  and just by chance, i happened to be answering phone calls when the same patient from the day before walked up with her little son.  grandma was taking him home.  maybe for a nap.  but he didn't want to go.  he wanted to hold his mom's hand.  and so she walked him to the elevator.  gave him kisses.  told him that grandma would take good care of him.  i'm sure her heart was breaking inside too. of course she wanted to go with them.  ditch her IV pole of life saving medications.  and get the hell out of her scary situation.  but instead, she left her mother and son at the elevator.  moments later, he broke free from his grandmother's hand and ran to my desk - right in front of me.  he looked at his mom down the long white hospital hallway.  and he waved.  a sweet wave.  a perpetual wave.  he wouldn't stop.  and his lower lip trembled.  and his eyes teared.  god he loves his momma.  it was so clear.  he knows something is up.  he turned back to the elevator, to grandma.  then returned to my desk.  and he waved again.  and the lip pouted.  i watched this dance for what felt like several minutes.  back to grandma at the elevator. then back to the hallway, to see his momma and wave.  on his final trip from the elevator to the hall, instead of waving, he held up his tiny fingers and made the sign for i love you in sign language.  

it seemed like a routine they have done before.  but there was desperation in it.  a mature desperation.  there were no tantrums.  just resignation.  acceptance.  that momma belongs in the hospital.  and the tiny little 3 year old most move forward, without her, strong and brave.  ready to face the world.

heartstrings.

anniversary

it's been one whole year since nurse patient died. 

i think about her frequently. 

and i think of her husband. 

and her two daughters. 

best "work" day ever

i had a personal chauffeur this morning - my mom.

we went to a french bakery for coffee and pastries before she dropped me off for my second day of jury duty.

from 9:00 until about 10:00, i sat in the quiet room at the municipal court on my laptop, catching up on emails, reading blogs, and pinning things on pinterest.

and right around 10:00, i got called off of duty.

and headed home.  once again, using my free bus tickets.

i was supposed to be working today, an entire 12 hour shift.

and get this, i got paid for the ENTIRE day.

plus my $10.00 jury duty payment.

working for the state and serving the state kind of rules.

here's to jury duty every year!

"rough" day

i'm downtown serving my civic duty today.

i woke up around 6:57 - much later than a normal work day.

and i leisurely walked a few blocks to get a coffee.

next, i hopped on the #12 down to madison and 5th avenue.

and i sat for a few hours until my name was called.

then, along with 15 other folks, i got quizzed on the law, on "innocent until proven guilty," and on my attitudes towards drinking and driving.

and i was kindly let go.

i think i'm too conservative when it comes to drinking.

for lunch i spent all but 1 of the dollars i am making today.

and now i am sipping on free tea while using wi-fi.

soon, i will be taking the bus home with my free bus tickets.

and my day will end hours before the end of a nurse shift.

"rough" day.

support

for the past few days, i've been working with a 45 year old woman struggling with breast cancer.  she's had breast cancer since 2001 - that means she was only 33 years old when she was diagnosed.  she was a new mom then.  now, she has a high school age daughter and an 18 year old son.  and although i don't know much about her life, i witnessed her support system.  she is circled by friends and caring and prayer.  and it's a huge honor to witness such love.

at this point in her disease, she has metastases to her bones and lymph nodes.  and as of late (like in the last week), she has had mental status changes that suggest she has brain mets also.  her responses to questions are slow.  and she has difficulty finding the correct words to explain herself.  she gets confused whether it is day or night.  and although she doesn't have much choice, she allows medical professionals to poke and prod her over and over.

last night, i knelt in front of her, held her shoulders that were slumped over her bedside table, and rested my head near hers (to keep her still), while two physicians sliced through ribs and drained almost one liter of fluid from her lungs.  i felt like we were taking a nap together.  she was calm.  and i was tired.  while we were "hugging," the world was still.  i felt good.  and i hope she felt safe.  that i would protect her from the resident who had never done a thoracentesis and was doing it for the first time with a fellow guiding his every move.  that i would talk her through their actions - since they sometimes forget they are working on humans.  that i would find her support system once the doctors left so that she would never be alone.

my job is incredible sometimes.  i witness such love.  and such devotion.  sometimes IT (whatever IT is) is so palpable that i am left speechless.

 in awe.  crying while charting at my computer.

did i mention that my patient's two main caregivers are her ex-husband and her best friend from mississippi who flew in to be with her for this indefinite amount of time before she passes?  some people are blessed with good support.  good friends.  and love.

i am too.