my patient "escaped"

i helped to plan an escape for a patient of mine this week. perhaps it's because i too once escaped from the hospital while i was a patient and still attached to my IV pole or maybe it's just because this gal is cool (and so am i?!?) that i relate so well. she's 31. younger than me. and she's been dating a man for maybe two years total (just like cole and me). they're unmarried. and in love. or once in love. and i can't help but to put myself in her shoes (TOMS) and wonder what it would be like. how would i feel. what would happen to my relationship. and my future (if i made it to the future).

this gal has had a rough go. or as one of my other super young patients put it, she's won the "anti-lottery." like the shittiest prize ever. not only cancer - lymphoma. but lymphoma with brain tumors. debilitating brain tumors. WTF? why should a 31 year girl get that? when she's in school. and hoping to do something amazing with her life. and feeling excited about love and marriage and family.

(side note: my heart broke for her for the like 27th time as she was telling her mom about the different kinds of chemotherapy she's going to get. while describing one she said, "this is the one that destroys my ovaries." her mom cringed and not to be mean, reminded her daughter that she's already in menopause, from the other chemo she has received in the last 10 months. her mom, who also experiences hot flashes and the un-sexy-ness of dry vaginas, said to her sweet daughter, "we'll get you a baby somehow. don't you worry.")

UGH.

anyhoo. my patient will likely be in the hospital for the next month or more. and of course, i want for her to do well. but my experience tells me that she won't. that the nice ones always do poorly. and that with her disease, her prognosis is VERY BAD. like, she won't get out of the hospital E-V-E-R, bad. so, when her doctors said that it would be okay to sneak out of the hospital for a little shopping and lunch adventure, i was in full support. insurance companies don't allow patients to come and go. and of course, if something bad happened to her while she was out, her insurance would flip out, likely not cover her hospital stay, and WE would be at fault and shit up a creek. so the "escape" had to go well.

i felt like an accomplice to a crime. or like her mother. although her real mom was in on the crime also, i was the nurse. the responsible one. i had to think of everything. the wheelchair she had to steal - to prevent falls. the hat - to protect her bald, radiated head. the pain medication i had to tuck into her pocket - in case her persistent headache became too unbearable. the timing of her other medications to keep her safe.

what was supposed to be a two hour pass turned into four plus hours. and although i started to worry, i was elated when she returned. my patient was happy. she ate lunch in the sunshine. she bought make-up to fancify her face. and jewelry to adorn her cancer ridden body. she gabbed with her sister about clothes and shoes and retail. and even though she didn't say it, i think she felt normal. for a second.

instead of dying in a hospital bed while the rest of the world passes her by, she got to participate. for four short hours. and i'm so happy that i could help.