the mysterious motorized wheelchair

last week, i wrote about a patient with the "missing" voice. this week, C continues to amuse me. his voice has returned, somewhat. now instead of a whisper, he has a mean bark - especially when calling food service to swear about his meals being delivered cold and with the wrong condiments.

his most recent and best antic so far has to do with a mysterious motorized wheelchair. on sunday, C was zipping down the halls, rocking out to heavy metal. we teased him about fining him for speeding. but eventually, all of us nurses wondered where this fancy wheelchair came from. when the physical therapist showed up, we asked her if physical therapy indeed gave him the chair. when she said NO, there was sleuthing to be done.

turns out, just asking C point blank got us the answer. C stole the wheelchair from the complete other end of the hospital, near the rehabilitation unit (our hospital is HUGE - he travelled a long way to get this prized possessions). he had seen the chair in the halls near rehab the previous day when PT brought him there to workout. he even asked if he could use the motorized wheelchair - but PT said NO. the patient has muscular dystrophy; he can walk - albeit slowly and with a strange gait. but apparently, he wanted to zip around. so in the middle of the night on saturday, he wheeled himself in a regular wheelchair to rehab to confiscate the cadillac of wheelchairs - the motorized wheels!

PT forced C to hand over the chair. poor C with his little bark seemed deflated. but the heavy metal continues. C adds a little spice to our oncology unit. and i enjoy his spirit!

august update

i've been slacking off on my blog lately. i wonder why that is? sometimes i think it's because work is not challenging me. or perhaps, work continues to challenge me in the same ways as always, but life outside of work challenges me more. then, i simply don't have the time or motivation to write about nursing. anywhoo...

my week of camp nursing was great! this was my fifth year of being a camp nurse at a camp for developmentally disabled adults and my 16th year of volunteering. it all started when i was a wee 15 year old; i convinced my sweet friend, amelia, to attend camp with me and my special aunt joanie (joanie is developmentally disabled and looks forward to camp ALL YEAR LONG!). we had the time of our lives. but we were challenged beyond our wildest imaginings. the two of us sweet, little innocent gals ended being responsible for one 21 year old boy. he had down's syndrome and was non-verbal. he required both of our attention for the entire week, and still, we couldn't get him to sleep. and sadly neither of us were sure he had "fun" or benefitted from the experience. but we tried our damndest. the two of us, on the other hand, had monumental, life-changing experiences. despite the sleep deprivation and the changing of adult male diapers, we were hooked. amelia now lives in LA and has a wee-one of her own to care for.

but this year, i had the special privilege of bringing a new friend to camp. marian, a colleague and dear friend of mine from work, braved the world of camp nursing with me. she and i, with the part-time help of two other very experienced nurses, were in charge of doling out hundreds of pills each day - breakfast, lunch, dinner, and bedtime pills. and it was fun to watch her ease into the world of differing abilities and specialness. each day, each med pass, became easier. campers warmed to her bright spirit. and the week was better for me having her there...

"real" nursing returned on monday morning after an emotion-filled and wacky weekend with the beginnings of a cold. blah! and sadly, the sweet 25 year old guy i had taken care of the week prior, the one whose father didn't want me to be off for so many days, had been intubated and placed into one of our intensive care beds. double blah! i knew he was sick; i worried he would not fair well. and although i LOVE being right most of the time, i do not love being right about sad outcomes on my unit.

monday and tuesday i cared for a very unusual patient. somehow, he "lost" his voice. he has cancer. and he's been intubated recently. but every test we did, shoving cameras down his throat, assessing his vocal cords, checking his swallow and gag reflexes, showed nothing abnormal. my patient has an extensive history of drug use and certainly seems to have some mental illness, but this voice business, his quiet whisper slash bark seemed comical to me. he wrote me notes all day and attempted sign language. i made business phone calls for him to strangers in alaska. and we laughed together trying to figure each other out. all in all, it was a fun two days.

but my cold worsened. my nose started to drip while in patients' rooms. i had to sniffle and wipe my face on my sleeve like a four year old child. and i realized, if i truly care for my patients, if i really want to be a good nurse, i must care for myself first. i had to call in sick on wednesday so as not to pass on my cold that for me is benign but for my patients could be deadly. it was a good day off. a nice day to rest, relax, and re-cooperate from camp, life, and work!

long week done, long week ahead

in the last week, i have worked five 12 hour shifts. that's more than 60 hours. and although they weren't that challenging of days, it still feels like too much.

i do a very poor job of leaving my home life and dilemmas at home, so often times, i use work as a processing plant. i work with supportive friends and colleagues. and it just so happens that sometimes, work is my therapy. our 60 year old male secretary doesn't hesitate to give me boy advice. and my girlfriends and i spent the last several days hiding in the hallways, avoiding patient rooms and actual nursing work, to whisper about naughty things and funny experiences. dare i say that work (or therapy - whatever you choose to call it) this week was almost fun! and it's cheaper than my real sessions; in fact, i actually get paid to work on myself and spend time with friends!

i did do some real nursing this week. in fact, for the last two days, i cared for a young gentleman who is VERY sick. he is 25 years old. of course, he has cancer. and he is surrounded by loved ones - a super attentive girlfriend, two loving parents, and aunts and uncles, nephews and nieces. unfortunately, he's only at the very beginning of transplant and is already suffering pretty intensely. i only mention this guy because i actually enjoyed caring for him. is that bad? i don't always enjoy caring for my patients. this guy though, he's motivated. he listens well. he wants to work hard to get better, despite feeling like you-know-what. and at the end of the day, he asked if i would be caring for him every time that i worked. sometimes, when people say that, for a split second, i fear they are going to say, "because i don't want you to be my nurse again, not tomorrow when you're back, not ever." but this little guy (i say "little" because 25 year old men are so vulnerable and needy), he said, "you do a really good job!" and his dad chimed in and said, "i don't think you should be allowed to have the next 9 days off. we like you too much!"

that is a nice way to end a 60 hour work week.

tomorrow begins another tough week - a 120 hour work week. i head to camp parkview on vashon island. once again, for the 5th year in a row, i will be one of the camp nurses at a camp for 60 developmentally disabled adults. it's actually my 16 year (i did miss a year or two during college summers and travels) volunteering. and as fun as camp is, it is work. with it's own challenges and drama...

here's to camp nursing!

assholes

for the last two days, i've taken care of a very kind gentleman. he is sick and weak. and he is a dentist.

being the judgmental person i am, i assumed he would be smart, inquisitive regarding his health, and perhaps a bit arrogant. i don't know why. but sadly, that's my perception of physicians. i don't like caring for medical professionals. we make bad patients!

but he was none of the above. he thanked me for every last task, despite being in pain and feeling miserable. he called me sweetheart (which i actually hate and think is disrespectful of my age and professionalism - but that's another story), i think in a kind tone. and my day with him was pleasant.

his wife however. she was a different story. a total nightmare. seriously, i wanted to shoot her. thankfully, she only arrived at 5:00 pm - so i had just 2.5 hours with her. but honestly, she may have been the most annoying person i've cared for.

her husband returned from a procedure quite sedated. he needed to be transferred from a stretcher to the bed. and she sat and watched us, commenting every 2 seconds, accusing us of almost dropping him (which we didn't), reminding us to be careful of his leg (duh, i've spent the last two days with him helping him out of bed and transferring him. i know he's in pain. and i'm not going to be careless and intentionally hurt him), and asking why i needed to do certain things i was doing (like log-roll him over soiled sheets to protect his skin from laying in shit). i can't make this lady sound annoying enough. i cannot describe the tension in the room. the other nurse i had in there with me to help just kept looking at me with this look, like "really, is she being so inappropriate?"

the worst comment...

eventually i helped the dentist to the commode. when he was finished, i helped him stand and proceeded to clean his backside. she said, "i would offer to do that, but you got training for this, right? i mean, you get paid to do this after all!" i could hardly contain myself. "really, you think i went to nursing school to learn how to wipe butts?"

i don't get paid enough. i don't mind wiping behinds. if i ever need help cleaning myself, i'll be thankful to have a nurse that does so gently and with respect. it's not the ass-wiping that makes nursing challenging, it's the assholes i sometimes deal with! (excuse my language).

lessons from a patient,

the patient was ME.

yesterday, i was a patient AGAIN. and can i just say, what a strange experience! that role reversal feels so weird.

without going into graphic details, let's just say, i had some polyps removed from a private place. and it required general anesthetic. i'm fine. all is well. "a forest of polyps" was removed and i should be good as new.

but wow! how weird to be in a gown, with my hiney sticking out. with an IV in my arm. with drugs fogging my brain and blurry vision taking over the room. an hour or two of my life went by without my awareness. people poked and prodded me. a machine breathed for me. and i woke up to a quivering jaw and chattering teeth.

being inquisitive and curious, i asked all sorts of questions, even in my drugged stupor. how did i respond to the sedation? am i a light-weight, as i expected? did i have any irregular heart rhythms while i was being monitored? did that annoying beeping mean that my oxygen saturation was low? "no, please don't give me demerol for my extreme shakes. i will be fine, eventually." "did someone let my mom and friend know that i am okay?' i'm such a chatterbox, even when sleepy and drugged.

but i learned, AGAIN, that i don't like being a patient. medicine and procedures, nurses and doctors, gowns and needles make people feel extremely vulnerable. the nurse didn't really soothe my anxiety; she did not explain everything that was going on. everything felt a bit rushed. before i knew it, before i could ask all my questions, i was OUT, three sheets to the wind.

on a regular basis, i walk into a patients room expecting that my patients KNOW what i am doing... certainly they've had chemotherapy before. of course they've had a blood transfusion. this far along in their treatment, they must be familiar with blood draws and IV antibiotics. right? WRONG!

my patients deserve more from me. they deserve more thorough explanation. they deserve to have ALL their questions answered. they deserve to feel safe and confident in their care. they deserve my best, each and every day, each and every time i walk in their door. here's to better nursing in my future....

timing is everything

once again, this is not nursing related...

it's mountain related.

but i just felt the need to share a little snippet of news regarding mount rainier. the bushwhacker class i took offered two mount rainier trips. somehow, despite wanting to be on the second trip (with a teacher i preferred and dates that suited my work schedule better), i ended up on the first one - the holiday weekend. as aforementioned, we summitted! all 8 of us pushed our bodies to the limit. and it felt incredible. and, hopefully without sounding cocky, can i just say - i still just can't believe i did it! i had the opportunity to fly OVER mount rainier this last weekend when returning from boise and it's just SO massive.

but...

i just heard from a friend who was on the second trip. and sadly, they did not summit. they started their climb with amazing weather. things were going fine. the snow was in good condition, they were making good time. and then, at 12,700 feet, one of the climbers got AMS - acute mountain sickness. nausea, vomiting, headaches, weakness - not good symptoms to have on a 45 degree slope with crampons your feet! the entire team had to turn around.

of course, as a nurse and just plain old caring person, i would have been concerned about the climber's health. i would have offered water. food. any medications i had in my emergency kit (advil, tums, and immodium!). but also, i would have been incredibly disappointed. sad. angry even. it would have been my second failed attempt. and although i knew it was a possibility and i would have dealt with it, i am SO, SO, SO thankful that i did not have to experience that turn-around, that "failure," that non-summiting experience.

timing is everything. someone or something greater than myself made my summit possible. the stars were aligned. i was with the right group of people. the conditions were great. my body worked that day, when it might have not on a different one. and i summited rainier. sometimes luck plays such a big role in life - i feel so lucky!

mount rainier

i've tried to keep this blog thing to mainly work-related, nursing things. then, my dad got sicker in the last year and i broadened my topics to all health-related issues, even if they were personal. but i have something to report that is not related to nursing and is only loosely related to health (if you call carrying a 50 pound backpack, sweating like crazy, pooping in a stinky outhouse, and achieving a personal goal 'health').

drum roll please.....

after a very long and round-about journey, i summited mount rainier this last weekend. on july 2nd, at about 10:15AM, i stood on top of a mountain that i have looked at my entire life.

i am not sure when this goal came about. i've always loved staring at mount rainier as i cross i-90. one of my favorite things about traveling to far away destinations is coming home to seattle to be welcomed by the green surroundings, lake washington, the puget sound, and the many mountains that make up my state. but rainier, really? why did i have to choose to summit the tallest mountain in washington? is it because i am crazy? determined? or truly passionate about climbing mountains?

in the last several years, i have become more adventurous, outdoorsy even. i have dated a few boys that challenged me to do new things. three summers ago, i camped for the very first time. i sort of liked it. i think that summer i spent 3 nights in a tent – they were the only 3 nights i’ve spent outdoors ever, in my whole life, until this summer. a few months after that boy, i held my first ice ax with a different boy. we tried to look cool, but neither of us really knew what we were doing or how to use an ice ax safely. i did however stand on some cool peaks (mailbox, granite, mount barring, and naveho de toluca in mexico) - which, i guess you could say, "piqued" (get it?!?) my interest in hiking. dare i say climbing!

but this rainier thing came about two years ago. after some serious soul-searching, i made a bucket list. it included some random life goals (learn to ride a bicycle, shave my head, and run a half marathon). but i also created a plan for the year 2010 – the year i would turn 30. i jokingly dubbed the year "the year of christa” and it turned into just that – a year to celebrate myself! i spent time and money on healing and growing, and challenging myself to prove that i am strong, capable, and independent.

i went to bali with my friend kate. we spent one week doing yoga twice daily and eating the most glorious meals at a beautiful resort. i went to therapy more often than i’d like to admit. and i got massages. i exercised to clear my mind and to strengthen my body. and i started hiking to prepare myself for the biggest goal of all – to summit rainier. in january of 2010, i committed myself to mount rainier by signing up with alpine ascents for a guided late season, september climb. it would be a three day adventure unlike any before.

but for those of you that know me and have been following my blog, you know the year didn’t transpire as planned. my rainier goal was left unaccomplished when i over-trained and wound up hospitalized just one week prior to my climb. with severe muscle breakdown in both my arms and hugely elevated liver enzymes, it was impossible to attempt the climb. the doctors broke the news on the first of my five days in the hospital. i cried. and felt angry. but mostly, i wondered if i could have done it – if given the chance, my body would have carried me to the 14,410 foot summit.

september was disappointing to say the least. i went from being insanely active and healthy (and proud of myself to boot), to slug-like and almost embarrassed by my failure.

my nepal trip came quickly though and thoughts of rainier were put on hiatus. instead of summiting a 14,410 foot mountain, the himalayas brought upon a different challenge. a 10 day trek was a different kind of adventure - it would be walking, not climbing. my team consisted of mostly adults in their 50s and 60s. and instead of feeling like a huge challenge and lifelong personal goal, it felt doable and safe. we did hike to over 16,000 feet and after having not been able to attempt rainier, getting above rainier's elevation felt pretty damn exciting. but it was different. it was not rainier. i was not in washington. tserko ri was not the mountain i look at daily; it was not the summit i was shooting for.

so, when i returned to washington in november, i thought long and hard about attempting rainier a second time. did i really want to commit myself to the same goal? the previous year, truly every day involved some sort of training - whether it was physical or mental. and it was hard. i wasn't sure if i had had fun or if i was just hugely driven and worked really hard. my biggest fear and hesitation in trying again was whether or not i could handle another potential let down? another failed attempt? an unsummitted mountain... could i train smarter, less intensely, and more safely? could i have fun? and still be proud of myself if i didn't make it?

instead of signing up with a guide company, i decided, while in the midst of a very sad break-up and my dad's many hospitalizations, that i should take a glacier climbing class. a course would provide me with more knowledge of glacier climbing and provide me some opportunities to hike and climb with a new community of people interested in the same things. but i was NOT committing to THE MOUNTAIN. in the back of my mind, i knew the opportunity would present itself. but signing up for the bushwhacker climbing class was NOT as stressful and intimating as committing to climbing mount rainier. it felt safe.

the classes started in may. every tuesday i learned new knots and knew vocabulary words. i went on hikes with my backpack to "train." but i didn't take it to the extreme; i didn't train like it was my job. i felt that no matter how hard i trained, i had it in me to keep up with my team. and for once, i attempted to adopt the attitude - "if i didn't have it in me, and i couldn't do it, oh well!" i tried to be low-key and to keep my expectations realistic. but when the opportunity arose to join a team on rainier, i jumped! i signed up immediately. i still felt the NEED to climb rainier. i couldn't let that mountain beat me AGAIN; i couldn't let last year's attempt be my only attempt. i am NOT a quitter.

since this has quickly turned into an auto-biography, i will cut the rest of the story short. but suffice it to say, climbing mount rainier was by far, the hardest thing i have ever done. it was both a physical and a mental challenge. i carried a 50 pound backpack up 5000 feet to our base camp at camp schurman. i wore crampons and used an ice ax while roped to my team members. i spent three nights snow-camping, eating dehydrated foods, and going to the bathroom in a vile outhouse. i woke up at 1 in the morning on summit day, started climbing at 2:20 AM via headlamp, and climbed 5000 more feet to the summit of rainier by 10:15 AM. my own two little legs stepped one foot in front of the other when my mind told me it was impossible, that it was too steep, that it was not humanly possible to go on. and i cried when i got to the summit. i cried tears of joy, pride, and utter exhaustion. i cried not only because i made it to the summit, but because i achieved a personal goal. and there had been many obstacles. not just the crevasses i had to jump over...

i had thought "the year of christa" was done when 2011 started. but "the year of christa" continues. i summited mount rainier as a 30 year old gal. and although it did not happen in september of 2010, like i had anticipated, hoped, and worked towards, it happened in july - before i turn 31. and in the process, i have learned to be more flexible in my goals and expectations, more forgiving of my limitations and mistakes, and more proud of the things i achieve!

p.s. this seems like little news after rainier but, by the way, i summited mount baker on monday, june 20th. it was part of my training and the final climb in my glacier climbing class. had i only summited baker this summer, i would have still felt proud and accomplished. it was the hardest thing i had done prior to july 2nd! now i just feel extra bad-ass for summiting two BIG mountains in two weeks!