When God Created Nurses
When the Lord made Nurses He was into his sixth day of overtime.
An angel appeared and said, "You're doing a lot of fiddling around on this one."
And the Lord said, "Have you read the specs on this order?
A nurse has to be able to help an injured person, breathe life into a dying person,
and give comfort to a family that has lost their only child and not wrinkle their uniform.
They have to be able to lift 3 times their own weight,
work 12 to 16 hours straight without missing a detail,
console a grieving mother as they are doing CPR on a baby
they know will never breathe again.
They have to be in top mental condition at all times,
running on too-little sleep, black coffee and half-eaten meals.
And they have to have six pairs of hands.
The angel shook her head slowly and said, "Six pairs of hands...no way!"
"It's not the hands that are causing me problems," said the Lord,
"It's the two pairs of eyes a nurse has to have."
"That's on the standard model?" asked the angel.
The Lord nodded. "One pair that does quick glances while making
note of any physical changes, And another pair of eyes that can look
reassuringly at a bleeding patient and say,
"You'll be all right ma'am" when they know it isn't so."
"Lord," said the angel, touching his sleeve, "rest and work on this tomorrow."
"I can't," said the Lord, "I already have a model
that can talk to a 250 pound grieving family member whose child has been
hit by a drunk driver...who, by the way, is laying in the next room uninjured,
and feed a family of five on a nurse's paycheck."
The angel circled the model of the nurse very slowly,
"Can it think?" she asked.
"You bet," said the Lord. "It can tell you the symptoms of 100 illnesses;
recite drug calculations in it's sleep; intubate, defibrillate, medicate,
and continue CPR nonstop until help arrives...and still it keep it's sense of humor.
This nurse also has phenomenal personal control. They can deal with a
multi-victim trauma, coax a frightened elderly person to unlock their
door,comfort a murder victim's family, and then read in the daily paper
how nurses are insensitive and uncaring and are only doing a job."
Finally, the angel bent over and ran her finger across the cheek of the nurse.
"There's a leak," she pronounced.
"I told you that you were trying to put too much into this model."
"That's not a leak," said the Lord, "It's a tear."
"What's the tear for?" asked the angel.
"It's for bottled-up emotions, for patients they've tried in vain to save,
for commitment to the hope that they will make a difference
in a person's chance to survive, for life."
"You're a genius," said the angel.
The Lord looked somber. "I didn't put it there," He said.
*Not sure who wrote this, but it's amazing, and spot-on*
Sunday, December 27, 2009
Wednesday, December 9, 2009
If Only
Two words I wear proudly on a button attached to my nursing scrubs: Cancer Sucks. That says it all, of course, I would like to insert an explitive or two in between cancer and sucks. As the days pass here on the oncology unit I learn more and more that life is precious, life is beautiful, life is a blessing, life is worth fighting for, life is not fair.
Instead of a young woman with breast cancer dying, who has an eleven year old son and loving husband, why not the man who chooses to murder and rape and create pain for others? Why can't all the bad people be punished, and all the good people avoid such horrible diseases as is cancer? Why is my patient down the hall upset that her grape juice is watered down and she will go home soon, while the man two doors down is dying of a large tumor, the same disease that killed his son ten years ago? I'm feeling restless and angry tonight at work, this feeling I'm sure will pass with time, or maybe not, but it will never be fair.
I have been taking care of a man with a large facial melanoma (when I say large, I mean it looks like a large grapefruit coming out of his cheekbone) for the past two nights, but when I came into work tonight, the assignment had changed. I saw his wife in the hall at the beginning of the shift, and she collapsed into my arms. I stood with her, cried with her, in the hall as she told me how they have been married 41 years, been through so much, he worked so hard his whole life, and for this? She told me they did an abdominal CT today because they're suspecting his cancer has spread to his abdomen. She then told me that their only son died ten years of the same type of cancer. Life is not fair, but it is precious.
The irony of all this is while I was typing the first paragraph, one of our patients died. He was in his late fifties/sixties and started having heart attacks after a long battle with cancer. He decided yesterday evening that he wanted to be DNR. As I sat typing, the charge nurse came and told me that I needed to ask the secretary to call the chaplain, because he had just died. It was sudden, and his wife was at his bedside holding his hand. I walked into the room to make sure she wasn't alone, and she wasn't. The charge nurse was with her as she lay over her husband's body crying and talking to him. I had to leave the room to sob in the bathroom.
Life is not fair, but it is precious.
Instead of a young woman with breast cancer dying, who has an eleven year old son and loving husband, why not the man who chooses to murder and rape and create pain for others? Why can't all the bad people be punished, and all the good people avoid such horrible diseases as is cancer? Why is my patient down the hall upset that her grape juice is watered down and she will go home soon, while the man two doors down is dying of a large tumor, the same disease that killed his son ten years ago? I'm feeling restless and angry tonight at work, this feeling I'm sure will pass with time, or maybe not, but it will never be fair.
I have been taking care of a man with a large facial melanoma (when I say large, I mean it looks like a large grapefruit coming out of his cheekbone) for the past two nights, but when I came into work tonight, the assignment had changed. I saw his wife in the hall at the beginning of the shift, and she collapsed into my arms. I stood with her, cried with her, in the hall as she told me how they have been married 41 years, been through so much, he worked so hard his whole life, and for this? She told me they did an abdominal CT today because they're suspecting his cancer has spread to his abdomen. She then told me that their only son died ten years of the same type of cancer. Life is not fair, but it is precious.
The irony of all this is while I was typing the first paragraph, one of our patients died. He was in his late fifties/sixties and started having heart attacks after a long battle with cancer. He decided yesterday evening that he wanted to be DNR. As I sat typing, the charge nurse came and told me that I needed to ask the secretary to call the chaplain, because he had just died. It was sudden, and his wife was at his bedside holding his hand. I walked into the room to make sure she wasn't alone, and she wasn't. The charge nurse was with her as she lay over her husband's body crying and talking to him. I had to leave the room to sob in the bathroom.
Life is not fair, but it is precious.
Tuesday, December 1, 2009
The Definition of Compassion
According to http://www.dictionary.com, the definition of compassion is "a feeling of deep sympathy and sorrow for another who is stricken by misfortune, accompanied by a strong desire to alleviate the suffering." Tears welled up in my eyes as I read the words, because, this is also the definition of a what makes a good nurse.
Two weeks ago, one week into my night shift rotation on the cancer unit, one of our patients died. He had been diagnosed with renal cell carcinoma only months earlier, the the cancer had taken over his organs, and there was no hope of recovery. He was thirty six years old, had a fourteen year old daughter, had a wife, had aunts, uncles, cousins, and a mom and dad who would have given their own lives had it been possible. Knowing a loved one is going to die soon does not alleviate any of the pain, lessen the grieving when the time comes.
At 0200 (that's 2 am for you non-medical people) as I was sitting at the nursing station twenty rooms down the hall I heard crying, screaming, shouting, waling. We all knew it had happened, he was gone. His suffering was finally over and he was free of pain, but his family was left behind to feel the loss. We all gathered with the family over the next few hours to watch over them, to comfort, to just be there. His little girl had to physically be carried out of the room in the arms of her grandma and the chaplain because she has passed out from grief. I was but a bystander, but I began to feel as if I had lost someone I loved. All the feelings came back that I experienced when I thought I had lost my dad. I couldn't catch my breath, I cried, and I had to remove myself from the situation until I was ready to be helpful.
I realized then how difficult this job will often be, and I know days will come that I will cry with patients and their families, but I have the privilege of being there, of sharing in one of life's greatest and most heartbreaking mysteries. Death is not ever easy, no matter the diagnosis, and despite whether it is expected or not.
After the family left our floor I text messaged my fiance and told him how much I loved him, how thankful I was for his life, his health. Being a nurse offers a unique perspective of death and mortality. Many people feel they are invincible, until they are not. People think cancer, car wrecks, shootings, disease happen to other people. I live everyday with the knowledge that I may not return home, I may be diagnosed with terminal illness in five years, this may happen to a loved one. I am by no means a pessimist, and I do not let this insight affect my life negatively. Instead, I use it for good by making every moment count, enjoying the sunshine, being happy everyday for new reasons, making sure those around me feel and know how much I love them, and not waiting to have new experiences. I want to travel while I can, not plan on living to retire and then travel, I want to live life to the fullest, and I plan on doing so, God willing.
Life is hard, it is not for the weak of mind or heart, but when one of us is weak, it is the job of others to be their strength, and help them get themselves back. As a nurse, I feel I do this every moment I am with a patient. I love my job.
Two weeks ago, one week into my night shift rotation on the cancer unit, one of our patients died. He had been diagnosed with renal cell carcinoma only months earlier, the the cancer had taken over his organs, and there was no hope of recovery. He was thirty six years old, had a fourteen year old daughter, had a wife, had aunts, uncles, cousins, and a mom and dad who would have given their own lives had it been possible. Knowing a loved one is going to die soon does not alleviate any of the pain, lessen the grieving when the time comes.
At 0200 (that's 2 am for you non-medical people) as I was sitting at the nursing station twenty rooms down the hall I heard crying, screaming, shouting, waling. We all knew it had happened, he was gone. His suffering was finally over and he was free of pain, but his family was left behind to feel the loss. We all gathered with the family over the next few hours to watch over them, to comfort, to just be there. His little girl had to physically be carried out of the room in the arms of her grandma and the chaplain because she has passed out from grief. I was but a bystander, but I began to feel as if I had lost someone I loved. All the feelings came back that I experienced when I thought I had lost my dad. I couldn't catch my breath, I cried, and I had to remove myself from the situation until I was ready to be helpful.
I realized then how difficult this job will often be, and I know days will come that I will cry with patients and their families, but I have the privilege of being there, of sharing in one of life's greatest and most heartbreaking mysteries. Death is not ever easy, no matter the diagnosis, and despite whether it is expected or not.
After the family left our floor I text messaged my fiance and told him how much I loved him, how thankful I was for his life, his health. Being a nurse offers a unique perspective of death and mortality. Many people feel they are invincible, until they are not. People think cancer, car wrecks, shootings, disease happen to other people. I live everyday with the knowledge that I may not return home, I may be diagnosed with terminal illness in five years, this may happen to a loved one. I am by no means a pessimist, and I do not let this insight affect my life negatively. Instead, I use it for good by making every moment count, enjoying the sunshine, being happy everyday for new reasons, making sure those around me feel and know how much I love them, and not waiting to have new experiences. I want to travel while I can, not plan on living to retire and then travel, I want to live life to the fullest, and I plan on doing so, God willing.
Life is hard, it is not for the weak of mind or heart, but when one of us is weak, it is the job of others to be their strength, and help them get themselves back. As a nurse, I feel I do this every moment I am with a patient. I love my job.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
