"They aren't very nice here"

I heard a wife of a patient bend over her husband and say "they aren't very nice here". It was the end of a very busy 12 hour shift, I was down a staff member and carrying that load plus my own. I had given eye contact to the wife and greeted her when I entered the room which I thought was commendable considering my feet were hurting so bad my teeth were clenched with every step.

I apologized profusely and blamed it on the damn computer I had to chart on. I told them it was a curse that I had to stand there facing the computer instead of them. In my mind I'm screaming at the conglomerate I work for.

"You want patient satisfaction and high scores in that but you cut the nursing staff to the bones. We are the front door to that satisfaction. And the back door, and every door in between."

I also find it interesting and sad that one tired nurse can be the "they" in "they aren't very nice here". My shoulders are strong but I don't want to be responsible for branding the whole place with my inattentiveness in a tired moment.

So I buck up and pledge to be the best "they" I can be today and everyday.

The Universal Sign.

A car stops in front of the ER entrance, the back door opens and we see feet. The tech jumps in to check the man and we see him start chest compressions. The (feet first syndrome). A stretcher is brought to the car and the patient is pulled out onto it. We work on him until our protocols are exhausted but he dies.

The family will remain in my mind for a long time. I watched them go through the shock into the tears and on through to the planning stage smoothly, quietly, and together. When they were leaving, the wife asked if we were all okay.

In all my years I don't remember family members wondering how the death of their loved one affected us.

This day continued with several more critical patients among the non urgent ones.

And somewhere in between things a registration clerk came out of her office grasping her throat. (The universal sign for choking) A nurse saw her and grabbed her around the waist and did what we are trained to do and then went on about her business taking care of her patients.

The clerk was okay but shaking. Just another day in the life of a nurse.

On the porch with Jackson

We were waiting for his mom and dad to get home from Washington D.C.

Jackson- Will you tell me when you see them coming?
Me- I will. What are you going to do when they get here?
Jackson- I'm going to run and say "Mommy, Mommy, Mommy!
Me- And Daddy, Daddy, Daddy?
Jackson- Yes, and where's my present?
Me-Jackson, you should tell them you missed them and that you are glad they are home. And ask them if they had a good time.
Jackson-Yes, and where's my present.

When Marsha and David got home, Jackson went running. I watched, confident in my coaching skills.

Jackson- Running, jumping into his daddy's arms. Where's my present?

What a gift this child is to us all.

Team Work

I was permitted to change my work schedule when Marsha got sick. I was given a charge position in the ER twelve hour shifts on Friday, Saturday, and Sundays. This allowed me to spend Monday through Thursday with Marsha. Her dad came in on Thursday nights and stayed through Friday. David was home on the weekends.

On Chemo days, David's parents took Jackson for a couple of days so I could concentrate my energy on Marsha during those tough days after Chemo.

Tonya came often to play with Jackson. Now Tonya is his, he thinks. Whenever they are together she belongs to him. She sure helped keep the focus off his mom and keep his little life normal and fun.

Jackson is better now but for awhile after Marsha was done with treatments and I would come over he would get cranky and didn't want to look at me. I guess he thought I was going to take his mommy away, which I sometimes did.

We had a great routine going. David's job was to keep working and providing that great insurance. We wanted him to save his vacation days or time off in case he needed to help us.

He sometimes felt like he should be with his wife and that was understandable. Other than a stomach problem, also understandable, David was wonderful and strong.

I recently read in a book a phrase that will forever be in my heart....

"Physical causes are too wrapped up in their emotional results to be disentangled."

David's stomach problems are gone now I think, now that Marsha is well.

It all seems like a bad dream sometimes. But the fear and rage and pain and disrupted life and a loss of direction seem to be my left overs.

But I have not lost a daughter to cancer. I have gained a strong friendship with a kick ass woman who is an inspiration to all who know her.

"Fuck Cancer!"

The day our lives changed.

It is time for me to write about the patient who most touches my heart and life. My daughter Marsha. Together we traveled through the maze of cancer treatment.

She was 31 years old, a wife and a mother to an almost 2 year old. She had been suffering with a cough, weight loss, fatigue and chest pain for six months. Her Dr. kept treating her for allergies.
I was at her house one day to use the computer and she was talking on her cell phone walking around her living room. She became short of breath and had to lean over the counter in the kitchen to breathe.

I had no idea that she was so sick. I took her to the hospital right then. After a chest xray and a CT we went from peaceful existence into full battle.

The chest xray will be forever imprinted on my mind. The mass filled her right lung. I could no longer feel my body. The noise around me became muffled. Knowing I could not faint in front of my daughter, I focused on moving forward.

We needed a biopsy, a diagnosis. I wanted no gap between this day and treatment. This was July 10th 2007.

I drove Marsha home from the hospital that night; I watched her walk into her house and close the door behind her. I don't know what went on behind her closed doors that night but when I got home, I sure gave in to my own emotions......and then the anger.

How can a Dr. let 6 months go by without blood work or xrays. Again my own profession fails me.

Tonya was there in the kitchen waiting. Those who know me will think this odd that I felt embraced by the kitchen as well as by Tonya. This kitchen has seen me and my family through some amazing and painful times.

It looks different now, light blue floors, and a cool counter waist high that I draped over while I cried and raged and moaned.

July 11th Marsha and I went to see the pulmonologist and scheduled a biopsy for the 12th. More pictures to live in my memory. Oozing pus and necrotic tissue. I think she will lose a lung. But we can live with one lung. We can do this.

David and Marsha came to hide out at our house for a couple of days. Away from people asking them questions they had no answers for.

In 3 days we had a preliminary diagnosis of Non Hodgkins lymphoma. I had an appointment with an oncologist the next day. On the 24th of July Marsha had her first Chemo treatment. Fourteen days from her ER trip to treatment. The battle was on.

Just the beginning. I write this for my own therapy so if it sounds a little me oriented that's why. I'll write more another day. This is hard but I think it will be good for me.

My inauguration story

There will be many stories from inauguration day this year. I found mine as I watched the older Mr. Bush walking with his wife Barbara. I noticed his cane and then I saw his small steps. The old man shuffle was there.

He reminded me of Dad. Mr. Bush was smiling, looking around and seemed to be really having a good time, but he was having trouble walking for sure. Daddy could walk best when he had nothing else to distract him. But if there was something he was looking at all his body parts came to a halt. Even standing became difficult for him.

I continued to watch Mr. Bush as they came to the stairs they would have to go down and I got a little nervous for him. Barbara was going down the stairs ahead of him and I wanted her to take her husband's arm instead and stay closer to him.

Protective feelings for my Dad were coming out all over poor Mr. Bush. He passed between the two guards who were saluting him and I held my breath until he took hold of the railing going down the steps.

As I let out a breath, Mr. Bush stopped, smiled, let go of the rail, reached back with his right hand.......and patted the butt of the guard at the top of the steps!!!!!

As he continued down the steps, I started crying and laughing. Daddy was at the inauguration!!!! You go George!!

At least George USED his cane.

I miss you so much Dad.

Experience counts.

I'll take compliments where ever I can get them.

I went into a patient's room to begin care and her husband was sitting at the bedside.

He looked at me as I introduced myself and said, "I like old nurses best. They really know what they are doing."

Also with that "experience" comes some very dark moments.

Moments when I feel like I can't do it another day. I feel too much. Feelings, emotions, coming at me, almost as if thrown at me.

Patients becoming too real to me

A quadriplegic who could look at me, study my every move, but she could not move or talk.
I felt fear.... To be like that, alone, unable to move or cry out.

I feel too much. Make it stop! I fear they may all be me. All the sick, the mangled, the dead.

Only moments. But those will always remind me to treat each one as I would want to be treated, for they are all me.