Fight the good fight
My friends have been asking me lately how work is going. It is very hard to explain concisely and still give them a sense of what I am doing. Work is work. It's hard. It's tiring. It's frustrating at times. But sometimes it's awesome.
Several weeks ago, I randomly got assigned to the opposite side of my unit. In the morning report, I found out that one of my patients was DNR, but only in her 40s. I also learned that her companion would sleep every night by her side. In fact, when I peeped into the room at the beginning of my shift, he was sleeping in the chair, reaching out and holding her hand. The next time I went in there and both of them were awake, he told me that they needed a notary and a priest, because they had decided to get married in two days.
That began a frantic wedding planning on the part of the staff, contacting facilities to host the reception, chaplaincy for the religious ceremony, respiratory for breathing support, physical therapy for assisting the bride to dance, occupational therapy to help her into her gown, and so many other departments. The day she got married, I came up to the reception, and cried. She was beautiful. She had no hair, so volunteer services had arranged a head wrap with beads. Another nurse had done her makeup and painted her nails. With the physical support of her husband, she stood up to 'dance' to songs. Her family was there. She was so happy, and I was happy for her.
She died less than 2 weeks later.
I feel so lucky to have been out-of-the-blue assigned to her. It was the experience of a lifetime. How often do people who have only known you for two days involve you so thoroughly in their lives? Where I can see their extreme happiness and his extreme sorrow at two milestones of life (that of marriage and that of death)?
Sometimes I also feel worn down. This past week, 3 different doctors reprimanded me for the care of their respective patients that I was in charge of. In the first case, it was not remotely my fault, as the issue was from the night. In the second patient, I was doing everything to respond to the doctor's orders, but it was just taking time. In the third patient, I think I could have benefited from more foresight, but I was irritated how the doctor was treating me. It was a mistake, but the patient wasn't mad at me, the family wasn't mad at me, and nobody was hurt. I was trying to do the right thing by reporting it, so I didn't appreciate the un-professional way he handled it. And I had a migraine, so my patience was running very thin, if not out. All of this happened on the same day my boss, who had patiently mentored me, retired. I was very very close to crying in frustration. Instead I went home and laughed hysterically with my very good friends, getting good stress relief and an excellent ab workout.
I'm not giving up. No towels are being thrown around here. I still feel, deep down, that I am needed, that I am making a difference. I want to fight to get my patients better, which actually takes more persuading, bargaining, and encouraging than what is typically associated with fighting. Same amount of sweat and blood, though.
Several weeks ago, I randomly got assigned to the opposite side of my unit. In the morning report, I found out that one of my patients was DNR, but only in her 40s. I also learned that her companion would sleep every night by her side. In fact, when I peeped into the room at the beginning of my shift, he was sleeping in the chair, reaching out and holding her hand. The next time I went in there and both of them were awake, he told me that they needed a notary and a priest, because they had decided to get married in two days.
That began a frantic wedding planning on the part of the staff, contacting facilities to host the reception, chaplaincy for the religious ceremony, respiratory for breathing support, physical therapy for assisting the bride to dance, occupational therapy to help her into her gown, and so many other departments. The day she got married, I came up to the reception, and cried. She was beautiful. She had no hair, so volunteer services had arranged a head wrap with beads. Another nurse had done her makeup and painted her nails. With the physical support of her husband, she stood up to 'dance' to songs. Her family was there. She was so happy, and I was happy for her.
She died less than 2 weeks later.
I feel so lucky to have been out-of-the-blue assigned to her. It was the experience of a lifetime. How often do people who have only known you for two days involve you so thoroughly in their lives? Where I can see their extreme happiness and his extreme sorrow at two milestones of life (that of marriage and that of death)?
Sometimes I also feel worn down. This past week, 3 different doctors reprimanded me for the care of their respective patients that I was in charge of. In the first case, it was not remotely my fault, as the issue was from the night. In the second patient, I was doing everything to respond to the doctor's orders, but it was just taking time. In the third patient, I think I could have benefited from more foresight, but I was irritated how the doctor was treating me. It was a mistake, but the patient wasn't mad at me, the family wasn't mad at me, and nobody was hurt. I was trying to do the right thing by reporting it, so I didn't appreciate the un-professional way he handled it. And I had a migraine, so my patience was running very thin, if not out. All of this happened on the same day my boss, who had patiently mentored me, retired. I was very very close to crying in frustration. Instead I went home and laughed hysterically with my very good friends, getting good stress relief and an excellent ab workout.
I'm not giving up. No towels are being thrown around here. I still feel, deep down, that I am needed, that I am making a difference. I want to fight to get my patients better, which actually takes more persuading, bargaining, and encouraging than what is typically associated with fighting. Same amount of sweat and blood, though.
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