Wow, been awhile since the last blog. I've had 10 days off of work, and it's been wonderful to see family, friends, and rest. It's nice to just stop and enjoy life, and it's so important to my spirit. I need time to stop, think, breathe, experience new places and people.
My prayers were answered last week! I had an interview on the solid tumor oncology unit, and it went wonderfully. The nurse manager and I got along beautifully, the unit felt right, it was calm, peaceful, filled with nurses who love coming to work everyday. I was offered the job and immediately accepted, no questions asked. I have never been more excited! Tomorrow I return from my break to the med/surg unit and will tell my current manager that I'm transfering, then I'll be up on the oncology floor hopefully by the end of October!
I will miss the nurses I work with, but I am so ready to move on, to learn more, to grow, and have new experiences with new people. I know that I will love it. Already I love it, my heart and head are already there. Cancer is probably the most devastating disease to have, the treatments are worse, and there are so many different types to be afraid of. You can be carrying out your life one day, then the next you're diagnosed with cancer, and don't know what the future holds. I cannot wait to be the person there for the family and patient who are having a difficult time, that is what I live for. I want to be their comfort, ears, knowledge, confidence.
The nurses are all very involved in fundraisers, walks, rides for cancer research funds, and I am looking forward to becoming involved in making a bigger difference. They do pet therapy twice a week with a golden retriever and a little beagle, which is amazing. I have decided to enroll my lab in a program to get him certified to become a pet therapy dog, he would be wonderful, and bring such joy to people in one of their darkest and most difficult times.
Getting this job has strengthened my belief that anything is achievable if we are patient, work as hard as we can to make our dreams come true, and ask for help along the way. This past weekend my fiance and I did a 76 mile charity bike ride benefitting Easter Seals of NC, a group who assists people with CP. It was an event and experience I will never forget, and I will always cherist. One of my favorite quotes from the weekend was this said by Christopher Reeve, "So many of our dreams at first seem impossible, then they seem improbable, and then, when we summon the will, they soon become inevitable." IMPOSSIBLE IS NOTHING.
Tuesday, September 22, 2009
Saturday, September 12, 2009
Life is beautiful
Oddly enough, the day that I wrote the previous post, one of our long time patients on the unit had passed away, and another one of my patients crashed. I couldn't help but think I had sensed it, felt it coming. I hadn't felt right all day. I wasn't necessarily in a bad mood, just down, and very tired. Not just tired, drained. Hind sight is 20/20, but this seemed more than coincidence.
I knew one of our patients we had cared for for over a month on our floor was in the ICU for liver failure. He had his transplant a couple years back, but the new liver was being rejected by his own body. While on our unit the doctors tried several procedures to save the liver, but nothing took. We all knew the day would come when we would have to call a "rapid response" and get him moved to the ICU. I knew he had been in the ICU for about a week or so, and I could not stop thinking about him the night before work. I thought about how much he and his wife loved one another. They were both in their 50's with two grown children. I would often hear them from the other side of the unit laughing and giving each other grief when they lost a card game. I was moved by their love for one another. His wife was there everyday, we had to beg her to leave and get some rest. She was in it for better or worse.
I came to work Thursday planning to buy him and his wife a card to have the nurses sign to know we were praying for them, and admired their love for each other. I asked our secretary to see which room he was in in the ICU next door so I could go visit him. When his name came up on the screen, a number "3" was next to it. He had passed away on Wednesday afternoon. I was heartbroken for his family, namely his wife who had seen him cured of alcoholism, get a liver transplant, and then saw him through the liver failure. I felt helpless because I knew I couldn't do anything to help her through her grief. Sometimes all we have is prayer.
I knew one of our patients we had cared for for over a month on our floor was in the ICU for liver failure. He had his transplant a couple years back, but the new liver was being rejected by his own body. While on our unit the doctors tried several procedures to save the liver, but nothing took. We all knew the day would come when we would have to call a "rapid response" and get him moved to the ICU. I knew he had been in the ICU for about a week or so, and I could not stop thinking about him the night before work. I thought about how much he and his wife loved one another. They were both in their 50's with two grown children. I would often hear them from the other side of the unit laughing and giving each other grief when they lost a card game. I was moved by their love for one another. His wife was there everyday, we had to beg her to leave and get some rest. She was in it for better or worse.
I came to work Thursday planning to buy him and his wife a card to have the nurses sign to know we were praying for them, and admired their love for each other. I asked our secretary to see which room he was in in the ICU next door so I could go visit him. When his name came up on the screen, a number "3" was next to it. He had passed away on Wednesday afternoon. I was heartbroken for his family, namely his wife who had seen him cured of alcoholism, get a liver transplant, and then saw him through the liver failure. I felt helpless because I knew I couldn't do anything to help her through her grief. Sometimes all we have is prayer.
Thursday, September 10, 2009
For Better or For Worse
As my wedding date approaches, and as I have new experiences at the hospital, I can't help but think more and more about what being married really means. None of the superficial, all that we spend months planning, matters after the wedding. What matters are the promises, the vows, the oaths, that you will love this one person, care for this one person, and stand beside and behind this person for the rest of your lives, however long or short that may be.
Nothing about life is certain. I see this everytime I come to work. You graduate college, get a job, get married, and expect it all to go as planned. The truth is, life is extremely fragile. Life is not something to be played with, not something to be wasted. You get one body, one soul, one life, and one chance to make it count.
Friday, September 4, 2009
Inspired
This is my third night shift this week, and may I remind you that I don't usually work these. I am, by trade, a day shift RN, but decided to help out my fellow nurses. It really is a whole different world. The care is the same, the acuity doesn't change, but fewer people are around to crowd the halls.
I am fortunate enough to work somewhere where each person helps the next. You will never here "That's not MY patient!" Each person on the unit is everyone's responsibility, and we treat it as such. There is no time to decide whether or not to help, we just do it, and I would like to think that is due to our compassion, not just our instinct.
Being night shift, I had some free time to finish my most recent book "A Big Little Life; A Memoir of a Joyful Dog" written by Dean Koontz. On the last page of the book, in the last chapter, there is a statement that sent shivers down my spine. I find it to be true, and wanted to share it. Don't over analyze it, just think about it a few seconds, and realize the magnitude of our responsibility to one another. By caring, we change lives everyday.
" ...because the only significant measure of your life is the positive effect you have on others, either by conscious acts of will or by unconscious example. Every smallest act of kindness- even just words of hope when they are needed, the remembrance of a birthday, the compliment that engenders a smile- has the potential to change the recipient's life."
I could not agree more.
I am fortunate enough to work somewhere where each person helps the next. You will never here "That's not MY patient!" Each person on the unit is everyone's responsibility, and we treat it as such. There is no time to decide whether or not to help, we just do it, and I would like to think that is due to our compassion, not just our instinct.
Being night shift, I had some free time to finish my most recent book "A Big Little Life; A Memoir of a Joyful Dog" written by Dean Koontz. On the last page of the book, in the last chapter, there is a statement that sent shivers down my spine. I find it to be true, and wanted to share it. Don't over analyze it, just think about it a few seconds, and realize the magnitude of our responsibility to one another. By caring, we change lives everyday.
" ...because the only significant measure of your life is the positive effect you have on others, either by conscious acts of will or by unconscious example. Every smallest act of kindness- even just words of hope when they are needed, the remembrance of a birthday, the compliment that engenders a smile- has the potential to change the recipient's life."
I could not agree more.
Sunday, August 30, 2009
Back from the wild
I just returned from a week long vacation to Lake Tahoe, California where we stayed in a condo for two nights, and from there camped in Yosemite National Park, California for three nights. It was amazing. Everything was beautiful, and it was wonderful to get away. While there I discovered something about myself: I think a lot. Sounds weird, right? I found myself starring off into space or at the awesome scenery more than I was having conversations with the four other people I was with.
I do this because I feel peaceful. I am happy with my life, where I am, who I'm with, and where I hope to go. I am blessed with more love in my life than I thought any person could be, and I realized that even more this week. Something being a nurse has taught me is it is far better to listen than to speak. Just by being silent, watching, laying a hand on your patient, you learn so much more than my speaking. Daily I apply what I learned at the hospital to my life at home, and it goes both ways. By listening to what is not being said, by reading a person's expressions, by looking in their eyes to see if the light is present, you learn much more than by having a casual conversation.
When people come to the hospital they become so vulnerable. They are in a new surrounding with people and machines they are unfamiliar with. We bust into their rooms, expect them to undress in front of us, and forget they have insecurities and deserve privacy. I use the term "we" loosely because I try my best to offer as much privacy as possible. I knock and wait before I enter a room, peak around the corner and ask "Are you decent?". As nurses we forget that we are familiar with the surroundings of the hospital, it becomes like a second home to us where we know the location of important items, and we know what each piece of machinery and what each beep and light means. Remember to speak softly, explain each step of each procedure or medication, make sure all questions are addressed and answered, and listen ten times more than you speak.
I do this because I feel peaceful. I am happy with my life, where I am, who I'm with, and where I hope to go. I am blessed with more love in my life than I thought any person could be, and I realized that even more this week. Something being a nurse has taught me is it is far better to listen than to speak. Just by being silent, watching, laying a hand on your patient, you learn so much more than my speaking. Daily I apply what I learned at the hospital to my life at home, and it goes both ways. By listening to what is not being said, by reading a person's expressions, by looking in their eyes to see if the light is present, you learn much more than by having a casual conversation.
When people come to the hospital they become so vulnerable. They are in a new surrounding with people and machines they are unfamiliar with. We bust into their rooms, expect them to undress in front of us, and forget they have insecurities and deserve privacy. I use the term "we" loosely because I try my best to offer as much privacy as possible. I knock and wait before I enter a room, peak around the corner and ask "Are you decent?". As nurses we forget that we are familiar with the surroundings of the hospital, it becomes like a second home to us where we know the location of important items, and we know what each piece of machinery and what each beep and light means. Remember to speak softly, explain each step of each procedure or medication, make sure all questions are addressed and answered, and listen ten times more than you speak.
Wednesday, August 19, 2009
As hard as I try to never think about work at home, I often find myself daydreaming about things that have happened at work. If I'm lucky, I share my humorous stories with friends, we have a laugh, and we move on. If it's been a particularly difficult day, however, I often have trouble falling asleep or my dreams are filled with events from the day.
Today, for whatever reason, I couldn't stop thinking about one women I took care of over two months ago. I don't remember age, but she was probably in her early forties, and had fallen out of bed at home while her caregiver was asleep. Other than being mentally delayed she had never had significant health problems up to this point.
The previous night I had left work knowing that when I returned the following morning there would be a new admission in the room for me to care for. I arrived to work at 6:45am and started report with the oncoming nurse at 7:10am. As we're standing at the chart and checking medications, I'm listening to what happened to this poor women and it sounds like something that could happen in a third world country, not in North Carolina.
She had fallen out of bed at home five days earlier, been admitted to a small community hospital about an hour north, and upon admission she had a completely broken tibia and fibula. The night nurse giving me report said that upon arriving to the room at our hospital her vitals were elevated, she had an intractable temp of 103, and her left leg was at a ninety degree angle to her knee. Within minutes of her admission our Orthopoedic docs had placed and plastered her leg, and were rightly disgusted at the other hospital's negligence.
Peering into the room I saw a trainwreck. She was on a cardiac monitor, 4 liters of oxygen, continuous pulse oximetry, an IV drip, her heart rate was 130, her respirations were 45 per minute,and suction was set up at her bedside. Her most recent temperature at 0700 was 38.5 C axillary which translates to 39.5 and is lethal if not treated promptly. This poor women had acquired a raging infection from lack of care, and she was now fighing for her life. Her docs were aware of the situation, but all we could do was watch and wait. For the next three hours I spend mere seconds with my other patients, and was in this women's room the rest of the time. I had been administering rectal tylenol and motrin alternately as well as packing her with ice, but nothing would take.
I had notified my charge nurse of the situation, and we were both calling the docs to suggest moving her to the MICU. As I was preparing another Tylenol suppository her sister came out of the room and said " I don't think she's breathing as fast as she was, and this monitor is making a funny noise." At this point I'm thinking that this is good, her heartrate is in the 70's now, she's breathing at about 12 respirations per minute, and when I check her temp, it's 37.0 axillary. Just as I'm starting to have hope, I realize she's not breathing, and now her heartrate is in the 40's. Obviously things were not going well. I called a code blue, everybody rushed to the room, and immediately chest compressions were started.
After coding her for 45 minutes and finding a pulse for a few seconds we sent her to the CCU. When I walked down to the floor she was now on, her room was crowded and they were coding her a second time. She didn't make it.
Why did I choose to post such a long story? Why does it matter? It matters because I could never shake the feeling that this women's life could have been drastically different had the docs at her previous hospital stepped up and taken care of her leg. She should have been in the OR the same day she arrived to their hospital. She shouldn't have suffered, and she shouldn't have died, not like that. I was angry the rest of the day, couldn't focus, and even now as I'm typing this, all the memories come back. I decided that the only way I can have an impact from here on is to learn from the experience, and advocate more for my patients. If one med isn't working, let's try another, and quickly. If a patient is decompensating, let's send her to the MICU now, and not wait. Unfortunately I don't have much pull in those situations. All I can do is keep going down the chain of command until I get someone to listen to me, and more often than not that takes too long, and we've lost precious time.
With the bad comes the good, and I have had so many wonderful experiences since that day. There are always those patients that stay with you, and change your title from caregiver to advocate.
Today, for whatever reason, I couldn't stop thinking about one women I took care of over two months ago. I don't remember age, but she was probably in her early forties, and had fallen out of bed at home while her caregiver was asleep. Other than being mentally delayed she had never had significant health problems up to this point.
The previous night I had left work knowing that when I returned the following morning there would be a new admission in the room for me to care for. I arrived to work at 6:45am and started report with the oncoming nurse at 7:10am. As we're standing at the chart and checking medications, I'm listening to what happened to this poor women and it sounds like something that could happen in a third world country, not in North Carolina.
She had fallen out of bed at home five days earlier, been admitted to a small community hospital about an hour north, and upon admission she had a completely broken tibia and fibula. The night nurse giving me report said that upon arriving to the room at our hospital her vitals were elevated, she had an intractable temp of 103, and her left leg was at a ninety degree angle to her knee. Within minutes of her admission our Orthopoedic docs had placed and plastered her leg, and were rightly disgusted at the other hospital's negligence.
Peering into the room I saw a trainwreck. She was on a cardiac monitor, 4 liters of oxygen, continuous pulse oximetry, an IV drip, her heart rate was 130, her respirations were 45 per minute,and suction was set up at her bedside. Her most recent temperature at 0700 was 38.5 C axillary which translates to 39.5 and is lethal if not treated promptly. This poor women had acquired a raging infection from lack of care, and she was now fighing for her life. Her docs were aware of the situation, but all we could do was watch and wait. For the next three hours I spend mere seconds with my other patients, and was in this women's room the rest of the time. I had been administering rectal tylenol and motrin alternately as well as packing her with ice, but nothing would take.
I had notified my charge nurse of the situation, and we were both calling the docs to suggest moving her to the MICU. As I was preparing another Tylenol suppository her sister came out of the room and said " I don't think she's breathing as fast as she was, and this monitor is making a funny noise." At this point I'm thinking that this is good, her heartrate is in the 70's now, she's breathing at about 12 respirations per minute, and when I check her temp, it's 37.0 axillary. Just as I'm starting to have hope, I realize she's not breathing, and now her heartrate is in the 40's. Obviously things were not going well. I called a code blue, everybody rushed to the room, and immediately chest compressions were started.
After coding her for 45 minutes and finding a pulse for a few seconds we sent her to the CCU. When I walked down to the floor she was now on, her room was crowded and they were coding her a second time. She didn't make it.
Why did I choose to post such a long story? Why does it matter? It matters because I could never shake the feeling that this women's life could have been drastically different had the docs at her previous hospital stepped up and taken care of her leg. She should have been in the OR the same day she arrived to their hospital. She shouldn't have suffered, and she shouldn't have died, not like that. I was angry the rest of the day, couldn't focus, and even now as I'm typing this, all the memories come back. I decided that the only way I can have an impact from here on is to learn from the experience, and advocate more for my patients. If one med isn't working, let's try another, and quickly. If a patient is decompensating, let's send her to the MICU now, and not wait. Unfortunately I don't have much pull in those situations. All I can do is keep going down the chain of command until I get someone to listen to me, and more often than not that takes too long, and we've lost precious time.
With the bad comes the good, and I have had so many wonderful experiences since that day. There are always those patients that stay with you, and change your title from caregiver to advocate.
I'll be taking care of you today.
Becoming a nurse was never truly a choice, but an inborn need to help people return to a normal life, or cope with the new life they must accept. I make it a point to find humor in the most awkward of situations, and to find peace when everything is falling apart. In this blog you will find stories of patients who touched me with their kind words, their acceptance of a terminal illness, humorous moments, and examples of how the human condition unites families.
While some posts may be sad, some frustrating, and some hilarious, others will simply be what the title suggests. They will be tales from the bedside of those people I have cared for. True identities will never be used, but diagnoses, symptoms, treatments, and my role in their care will be honest and factual. My goal for this blog is for readers to enjoy learning and understanding what being an RN is all about. I hope that the reasons I love my job will pour out of the stories, and no person will walk away from their screen feeling empty, but thankful for the life they have.
While some posts may be sad, some frustrating, and some hilarious, others will simply be what the title suggests. They will be tales from the bedside of those people I have cared for. True identities will never be used, but diagnoses, symptoms, treatments, and my role in their care will be honest and factual. My goal for this blog is for readers to enjoy learning and understanding what being an RN is all about. I hope that the reasons I love my job will pour out of the stories, and no person will walk away from their screen feeling empty, but thankful for the life they have.
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