psych nurse?!?

yesterday, a 39 year old woman died on our unit. she was diagnosed with AML (acute myelogenous leukemia) on friday night after an admission to the ER for SOB (shortness of breath, not son-of-a-bitch). i've seen this before. it's not something that should surprise me. cancer can sometimes be acute, instead of chronic. and sadly, it can kill people very suddenly. but i can't help but continue to be AMAZED that this woman, this mother of four, was "fine" last wednesday and today, she's dead. her children are motherless. her teenage children will be raised by her sisters and her 6 month old was taken into CPS when the aunties said they were unable to take in a baby.

i talked to cole last night on the phone (he's living in puyallup now for the next 4 months, ugh) and shared the story. and i reminded him (and myself) that it makes sense that i have irrational thoughts sometimes. that when i have cramps, i think i have ovarian cancer. or when i feel exhausted for a few days, it must be mono. my coughs turn into tuberculosis. and my bruises must be a sign of leukemia. i see these things happen. on a regular basis. to young, previously healthy people. my norm at work is to see the worst of the worst.

then, sometimes, every now and then, i get to care for a wacko! and i laugh. at the same place i sometimes find myself crying. yesterday, i transferred the same whack job from my last post to the psych unit. finally, they were willing and able to take her. and although she threw her feces at someone in the morning, she and i laughed some more in the afternoon. she tried to work her "magic" over on me, refusing to wear pants or get into a wheelchair. saying she would pee on herself if i didn't hurry the elevator. and telling me that once in a vegas hospital, she had a queen sized bed. i got her to laugh when i asked if she could gamble there too and i told her she must be mistaking the "hospital" with the hilton.

when i left her in a place much better suited to handle her needs, i almost longed to be a psych nurse. there is no cancer there. and although people are sad, there is less dying. and maybe, just maybe, more laughing.

whack jobs

spring is springing. birds are chirping. and light is seeping in through my windows. i am enjoying a lazy sunday morning on my couch - reading a new book (more like trying to stay awake), internet surfing/shopping for little girls in my life (emerson's birthday is coming up), and trying to motivate myself to get to the gym (i don't know why, but despite this beautiful weather, i'd rather run on the treadmill - something is not right with me).

i feel like i've been working a lot lately. perhaps because i did a 4.5 hour stint of overtime this week. or because my twelve hours shifts have been split up instead of in a row (which gives me bigger chunks of time off). but even though i've been spending lots of time nursing, i don't feel the same kind of burn out or exhaustion that i do a lot of the time. i work tomorrow. and i don't really want to go. but i have this refreshing sense of peace that whatever is thrown at me, i might handle with grace (i've probably jinxed myself).

i've taken care of some very sick patients recently. and although i don't always enjoy the intensity, it feels good to know that a job is well done. that my patients are safe under my care.

this week, i had the "pleasure" of caring for a psych patient. she had a transplants YEARS ago and because of that wound up on our floor. but her needs are not transplant related. they are most definitely psych related. and although i am not equipped or trained to help her psych needs, i sure had fun trying. is that bad? i don't mean to make light of a sad and difficult situation. and certainly, i don't mean to be disrespectful of mental health needs and complexities; god knows, i have my own issues. but this woman was REALLY crazy. she's in her 60s, but throws tantrums like the most stubborn of two year olds. she has a stuffed bear named "woof, woof." and when i fed her her pills in ice cream, it was never firm enough. i couldn't help but play along with some of her neuroses. "oh, you want your covers pulled up higher for the 107th time, okay?" as i pulled them up over her face. "oh, this ice cream is not hard enough. well, sorry, we don't have ice cream rocks!"

by the end of the day, this lady and i were laughing. at each other i think. with one another hopefully. i found out her nickname when she was a child - glory-bug. and we talked about easter egg dying - which she claims she hasn't done since she was 5.

i didn't do a perfect job for this woman. she still screamed bloody murder at times throughout the day. and she told her team of doctors to "get the F*&% out of her room." but at least she never told me that. at least we got along. at least we respected one another. from one whack job to another!