Me: "... And I'm going to be your nurse tonight until around 7 am."
Patient: "ok. Go easy on me, I just drove a really long way."
Me: "You did? Where did you come from?"
Patient (deadpan): "My mom."
6.10.2012
Just a one-line vent
Ok, maybe more like one paragraph. Or two. Or... Fuck it.
Sometimes this place is so achingly sad I feel like I carry it around physically - as if it accumulates in my bones and changes the way that I move. I feel so much heavier after a few days of sadness around here. There is just so much hope. It kills me.
An aside: I don't like saying a patient "expired". I hate how that sounds so much. How about, "they've been trying to die for a month and finally won"? Or "patient died"? We call it a time of death, why do so many people say such quaint, stupid things around death?
I can't help but feel like I'm a cog on a conveyor belt sometimes. I love my job a lot, and sometimes I hate it a lot. Probably not for the reasons you'd think.
We can't do much about long term un-interpretable suffering. I can help you with pain as long as you're able to say something or look uncomfortable, or give me some kind of sign. If you're in a long term altered state of consciousness, sometimes we can't tell. Did that hurt? When you moved your arm there, were you trying to tell me something? I can't tell for sure. I am trying so hard to make this comfortable for you, while your loved ones crowd around and sit in the waiting room and talk, try and figure out what to do - what the chances are, what they mean. Can you hear all this? Do you know what they're saying? If I somehow miss a sign that you're terribly uncomfortable, that this is prolonged and endless torture ...
... Would you forgive me? ... hell, will you forgive me?
Sometimes this place is so achingly sad I feel like I carry it around physically - as if it accumulates in my bones and changes the way that I move. I feel so much heavier after a few days of sadness around here. There is just so much hope. It kills me.
An aside: I don't like saying a patient "expired". I hate how that sounds so much. How about, "they've been trying to die for a month and finally won"? Or "patient died"? We call it a time of death, why do so many people say such quaint, stupid things around death?
I can't help but feel like I'm a cog on a conveyor belt sometimes. I love my job a lot, and sometimes I hate it a lot. Probably not for the reasons you'd think.
We can't do much about long term un-interpretable suffering. I can help you with pain as long as you're able to say something or look uncomfortable, or give me some kind of sign. If you're in a long term altered state of consciousness, sometimes we can't tell. Did that hurt? When you moved your arm there, were you trying to tell me something? I can't tell for sure. I am trying so hard to make this comfortable for you, while your loved ones crowd around and sit in the waiting room and talk, try and figure out what to do - what the chances are, what they mean. Can you hear all this? Do you know what they're saying? If I somehow miss a sign that you're terribly uncomfortable, that this is prolonged and endless torture ...
... Would you forgive me? ... hell, will you forgive me?
6.01.2012
Sendoff to the other side, and go Oklahoma City Thunder
The last time I wrote about dying, it was because of long nights spent
with a patient. Again, I've spent the last few nights caring for
someone who is dying. She's been married for 50 years. She and her
husband immigrated (emigrated?) to the US in the fifties and started
off with nothing. People shunned them for being interfaith (she
was/is Catholic and he was/is Muslim, in the fifties). They married,
stayed in the US. Visited their extended families overseas. Enjoyed
each other very much.
Her husband is an adorable accented little old man. He's been
sleeping here every second. They've had friends come visit them
occasionally, but they don't have much family left. He is planning to
go back to his home country once she is gone. Last night he slept in
a recliner next to the bed, holding her hand the entire time. Every
time we turn her in the bed she reaches out for his hand until she
finds it again.
I came in early today for a coworker and sat in there with him for
almost an hour, while he talked about her and their life together.
Then he started asking me questions. I told him I was born in
Oklahoma City. Then he brightened and started talking about the
Oklahoma City thunder and how they take their series against the San
Antonio Spurs home tonight and they have such an exciting team. I
promised him I would come in and watch as much of that game tomorrow
as I have time to watch (I am working tomorrow, too). My friend and I
bought this guy dinner and he was so gratified. He hadn't eaten all
day and it seemed I couldn't think of a better way to spend my money.
So if any of you out there could spare a thought for this guy and his
lovely wife, please do so.
And GO THUNDER!
with a patient. Again, I've spent the last few nights caring for
someone who is dying. She's been married for 50 years. She and her
husband immigrated (emigrated?) to the US in the fifties and started
off with nothing. People shunned them for being interfaith (she
was/is Catholic and he was/is Muslim, in the fifties). They married,
stayed in the US. Visited their extended families overseas. Enjoyed
each other very much.
Her husband is an adorable accented little old man. He's been
sleeping here every second. They've had friends come visit them
occasionally, but they don't have much family left. He is planning to
go back to his home country once she is gone. Last night he slept in
a recliner next to the bed, holding her hand the entire time. Every
time we turn her in the bed she reaches out for his hand until she
finds it again.
I came in early today for a coworker and sat in there with him for
almost an hour, while he talked about her and their life together.
Then he started asking me questions. I told him I was born in
Oklahoma City. Then he brightened and started talking about the
Oklahoma City thunder and how they take their series against the San
Antonio Spurs home tonight and they have such an exciting team. I
promised him I would come in and watch as much of that game tomorrow
as I have time to watch (I am working tomorrow, too). My friend and I
bought this guy dinner and he was so gratified. He hadn't eaten all
day and it seemed I couldn't think of a better way to spend my money.
So if any of you out there could spare a thought for this guy and his
lovely wife, please do so.
And GO THUNDER!
5.14.2012
Sometimes quotes from the people you work with are weirder than what the patients say
"It's not PUSSY drainage, it's prurulent drainage! Jesus, people, where did you go to school?"
5.12.2012
Well, this is kind of awkward.
Two different times tonight, people came and got me to ask me to help them make sure their patient's condom catheters are on right and/or help them put a new one on. One of them, a new grad (bless her heart) said that someone told her I was really good with the condom catheters.
I guess if I'm going to become known for something around here...
I guess if I'm going to become known for something around here...
4.30.2012
This never gets old.
One of my favorite parts of my job is the phone. Not talking on the phone (which I actually loathe), but the phones in the hospital rooms.
Patients in an ICU, even the ones who are so-called "with it", don't often remember phone numbers well. It can be the pain meds, it can be just being tired from people waking you up for vital signs and neuro checks all the time (we do both hourly). But no one remembers phone numbers as good as they think when they're in the icu. This wouldn't be so funny if the patients weren't universally convinced they had it right every time.
Last night I heard the same woman have this same conversation with probably a dozen different people she called:
"Hey! It's Mary ... Listen, I'm getting out tomorrow, I need you to bring me my clothes ... What? No, I'm not in jail, I'm at the hospital ... Who? Wait, this isn't Ray? Damn it." (hangs up)
On the last call she said, "Wait, I do want to order a pizza, that sounds like a great idea..." they never did bring a pizza, though, poor lady.
Patients in an ICU, even the ones who are so-called "with it", don't often remember phone numbers well. It can be the pain meds, it can be just being tired from people waking you up for vital signs and neuro checks all the time (we do both hourly). But no one remembers phone numbers as good as they think when they're in the icu. This wouldn't be so funny if the patients weren't universally convinced they had it right every time.
Last night I heard the same woman have this same conversation with probably a dozen different people she called:
"Hey! It's Mary ... Listen, I'm getting out tomorrow, I need you to bring me my clothes ... What? No, I'm not in jail, I'm at the hospital ... Who? Wait, this isn't Ray? Damn it." (hangs up)
On the last call she said, "Wait, I do want to order a pizza, that sounds like a great idea..." they never did bring a pizza, though, poor lady.
4.26.2012
Touché
Patient: what's your name?
Me: (tells her my name)
Patient (brightening): oh! You're the same white girl with the crazy hair that was here last week, too!
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