Friday, August 8, 2014
5k run!
SJ Pride!
One of my favorite things in the world is when I meet a person that knows someone from SJ, or even better, has actually visited the "Town of Friendly Neighbors". Yes, that is the town motto.
One day at work a Mother to one of my patients asked me where I was from. When I told her that I grew up in a small town called SJ, her husband sitting next to her immediatly perked up and said "I grew in Round Valley!" With out a second thought, I proudly stated, with a fist in the air,
"Go Redskins!"
The look on his face was priceless! He immediately doubled over laughing! He couldn't believe I had said it. The rest of the day when I would pass by him in the hall, he would just shake his head and mutter under his breath "go redskins".
Despite living a whole state away from SJ, this happens more often than you'd think. But out of all of my common aquantinces, my favorite one happened just a few days ago. When I got report on
Mike (not his real name), the nurse had tears in her eyes. Which sadly, isn't uncommon around here. He is 27 years old and was diagnosed with leukemia 6 years ago while serving his mission. He is married and has a Masters degree. When I walked in the room, I saw a very pale, thin person laying in bed. He has brittle hair, his skin is taught, and his bones are as hard as wood, all of which are side effects of the advanced disease. But when I introduced myself, a very cheery and happy voice came out! He and his wife were very talkative and full of life. When I mentioned I grew up in SJ, he said the all too familiar words, "I know someone from there!" He explained he served his mission with a guy who grew up in SJ, which turned out to be one of my good friends in high school. He told several stories about serving with him, all of which made me laugh! He went on to say that he was by far the most influential person he had served with as a missionary. It gave me a sense of pride for my home-town.
I'd be lying if I didn't tell you that I didn't get a bit emotional as we talked. One, because he is my exact age. He was my first patient that has been my age. It could've easily been me in that bed, fighting to live. Only by pure chance was it not. And secondly, oddly enough, that we had a mutual friend. For some reason, it made it more real for me. He wasn't a little kid that I'm so use to caring for. He was my peer.
Needless to say, when I gave report to the next nurse, I had tears in my eyes.
Friday, August 30, 2013
BRAVE
Today I took care of the lovely Sarah. I have had her several times in the past, including the day of her diagnosis. Her parents love to brag about how smart she is, and I love to listen! Before diagnosis, she would compete in math competitions... and win!
She is usually a very quiet girl, but today her friends came to visit... Which led to jamming out to this song.
Honestly, I want to see you be brave
Before I left the room, her mom leaned over and whispered to me that this was her theme song ... it made me love the song even more!
Honestly, I want to see you be brave
Before I left the room, her mom leaned over and whispered to me that this was her theme song ... it made me love the song even more!
Wednesday, June 26, 2013
#wrongbutton
Tonight as I was taking care of a seven month old baby, I accidently dropped the mobile (the contraption that hangs over the crib) on top of his head, causing him to burst in to tears.
Just sign me up for nurse of the year! crap....
Just sign me up for nurse of the year! crap....
Sunday, June 23, 2013
A Change in Perspective
It's been three weeks now since I got that late night phone call from my Dad to tell me that Dallin had been in a car accident. He told me that he had been flown to Mckay-Dee Hospital where he was intubated and currently in a coma. It's times like those that make you realize that the things that you thought were important, actually don't matter at all!
Luckily I didn't have work the next day, so I got up early and drove to Ogden to see him. Not long after I had gotten there, the nurse came in the room to infom the family and I that the that ICU doc wanted to have a care conference. We walked into a seperate room where we all sat down. The doctor and nurse came in shortly after. For the next twenty minutes, I will not only learn something so completley invaluable to my care as a nurse, but will also remember it as the worst twenty minutes I have yet to experience.
I have sat in on several care conferences held with families as they are being told that their child has cancer. Probably one of worst possible news any parent can get. I have witnessed the "deer in headlights" look countless times; grown men break down in tears; mothers sobbing.
But .... I have never once been on the recieving end.
As we all sat in that small, confined room, the ICU doc kept repeating over and over again,
"shearing is the worst possible brain injury"
"He'll never be the same again"
"The old Dallin is gone"
"this is really bad"
"this is really bad"
"this is really bad"
As I looked around the room, I saw the same look of terror that I have seen so many times before, but this time it was different. This time it was my own family experiencing it.
It's difficult to explain what it felt like sitting in that room. The longer I sat there, the more I felt life being drained from me. I have never felt such an utter sickness inside me. It seemed the longer he talked, the worse it got. I understand that he had to tell us exactly what was going on, but the way he said it made me feel like he didn't really care; this was just a job for him and in just a few short hours he would be going home. Because of this, it made me want to distance myself from him. I no longer made eye contact with him or cared to give him a pitty laugh when he attempted at making a joke. And then I noticed the nurse. What was she doing? How was she reacting to this awful news of her patient? What I saw was someone who had stepped out of her professional role. She no longer was a strong advocate who genuinly cared for the well being of her patient and family. Instead it seemed she made more of a point to flirt and laugh with the doctor as he "attempted" to lighten the mood. Frankly, she annoyed the Hell out of me. What I learned from this experience is what NOT to do. What we needed at that time, was someone who genuinely cared.
I know it can take years for anyone, not just a nurse or doctor, to know exactly what to say and how to say it during those difficult times. In the short time that I've been a nurse, I allready feel like I've had to "grow up" and have conversations with either a patient or parent about the hard things of cancer. But my perspective has changed now that I've been on the recieving end.
I learned from this experience that my job isn't just "shift work". For the twelve hours that I'm at the hospital, I can't be there just for the paycheck, but I'm caring for real families that need someone who genuinely cares for not only the patient, but for the entire family!
Luckily I didn't have work the next day, so I got up early and drove to Ogden to see him. Not long after I had gotten there, the nurse came in the room to infom the family and I that the that ICU doc wanted to have a care conference. We walked into a seperate room where we all sat down. The doctor and nurse came in shortly after. For the next twenty minutes, I will not only learn something so completley invaluable to my care as a nurse, but will also remember it as the worst twenty minutes I have yet to experience.
I have sat in on several care conferences held with families as they are being told that their child has cancer. Probably one of worst possible news any parent can get. I have witnessed the "deer in headlights" look countless times; grown men break down in tears; mothers sobbing.
But .... I have never once been on the recieving end.
As we all sat in that small, confined room, the ICU doc kept repeating over and over again,
"shearing is the worst possible brain injury"
"He'll never be the same again"
"The old Dallin is gone"
"this is really bad"
"this is really bad"
"this is really bad"
As I looked around the room, I saw the same look of terror that I have seen so many times before, but this time it was different. This time it was my own family experiencing it.
It's difficult to explain what it felt like sitting in that room. The longer I sat there, the more I felt life being drained from me. I have never felt such an utter sickness inside me. It seemed the longer he talked, the worse it got. I understand that he had to tell us exactly what was going on, but the way he said it made me feel like he didn't really care; this was just a job for him and in just a few short hours he would be going home. Because of this, it made me want to distance myself from him. I no longer made eye contact with him or cared to give him a pitty laugh when he attempted at making a joke. And then I noticed the nurse. What was she doing? How was she reacting to this awful news of her patient? What I saw was someone who had stepped out of her professional role. She no longer was a strong advocate who genuinly cared for the well being of her patient and family. Instead it seemed she made more of a point to flirt and laugh with the doctor as he "attempted" to lighten the mood. Frankly, she annoyed the Hell out of me. What I learned from this experience is what NOT to do. What we needed at that time, was someone who genuinely cared.
I know it can take years for anyone, not just a nurse or doctor, to know exactly what to say and how to say it during those difficult times. In the short time that I've been a nurse, I allready feel like I've had to "grow up" and have conversations with either a patient or parent about the hard things of cancer. But my perspective has changed now that I've been on the recieving end.
I learned from this experience that my job isn't just "shift work". For the twelve hours that I'm at the hospital, I can't be there just for the paycheck, but I'm caring for real families that need someone who genuinely cares for not only the patient, but for the entire family!
Thursday, May 30, 2013
Are you a Fighter?
Six months?! Allready?
Yes, it's true. I have been doing the freezing weather/too many mormons/TV watching(I finally have cable)/and long distance phone calls for exactly six months! Several people have asked me "are you still glad you moved? you can tell me the truth". First of all, I dont know why they think I would lie to them (ahem, Janalee). And secondly, yes I am glad I moved. I dont think I could live here forever, but for now, it's going pretty darn good.
This also marks six months at Primary Childrens. I thought that when I transfered that it would be an easy transition, given that I stayed in the exact same area. But oh was I wrong! Of course I knew that the technical stuff would be different and the whole culture of it would be different, but I was not expecting the many differences in the actual care of the patient. I won't get in to the details because that could get dreadfully boring for all the non-health care workers reading this (mick, I'll call you later) but I do feel that it's been a benefit to my "nursing practice" by seeing the methods of what each hospital does and why. But no matter where I work, the patients continue to teach me new things!
Yesterday, I took care of a young girl that immediatly reminded me of a previous patient that I had taken care of. But it wasn't so much the patients themselves that were similar, it was more of how I reacted to both of them that was the same.
The first patient was a teenage boy that carried a VERY rare genetic disorder that predisposed him to cancer with a poor prognosis. This disorder not only effected him, but the rest of his family. By the time I knew him, his mother had allready passed away from breast cancer, his brother had passed away from osteosarcoma, and his sister was currently in a different hospital fighting cancer herself.
The only family he had left was his grandma, who rarely visited.
Does anyone else feel like their "problems" just disappeared?
I thought, "How do I approach him? How will he react to me? closed off? depressed?" But instead, something happened that was quite the opposite.
EVERYTIME I did something for him, no matter how big or small it was, he ALWAYS replied with
"Thank You"
I was his nurse for a straight three days that week and many times after, and he never once failed to be grateful.
My other patient was a young girl that I took care of yesterday. She was sassy with attitude! Ms. drama queen! But I liked her for it! She was getting ready to be discharged home, when they decided to do a routine MRI before she left. The results showed that the tumor she had in her brain was actively bleeding causing too much pressure in her head. She immediatly went to surgery. The surgery went suprisingly well, given the bad circumstances. But it resulted in severe right sided weakness.
Right after returning from surgery, her mom left to run errands (ummmmm, ya). Luckily my other kids
weren't very busy, so I was able to spend a lot of time helping her with the most basic of tasks. And just like the young boy, each time I did something, no matter how small it was, she always replied with
"Thank you"
It wasn't until later when I stepped back to notice, that in each case I had a stronger desire to do my very best for them. I spent more time in their room making sure they had everything they needed, carried on longer conversations with them. Anything they wanted, I got for them. Icecream for breakfast? Totally ok. They had me wrapped around their finger!
Both of them taught me a whole new perspective on not to just be grateful, but to be grateful despite the hardest of circumstances. They did not cry, complain, lash out, or with draw, though they had every excuse to do so, and yet, they still did not. I have been working in this area for over two years now, and I can honestly say that the kids that FIGHT to live, generally DO live! I have seen it over and over again! I hope I never have to experience cancer the way these kids have, but whatever comes my way, I hope that I will have the same fight in me that I have seen first hand in them!
"Fight the good fight with faith" - unknown
Yes, it's true. I have been doing the freezing weather/too many mormons/TV watching(I finally have cable)/and long distance phone calls for exactly six months! Several people have asked me "are you still glad you moved? you can tell me the truth". First of all, I dont know why they think I would lie to them (ahem, Janalee). And secondly, yes I am glad I moved. I dont think I could live here forever, but for now, it's going pretty darn good.
This also marks six months at Primary Childrens. I thought that when I transfered that it would be an easy transition, given that I stayed in the exact same area. But oh was I wrong! Of course I knew that the technical stuff would be different and the whole culture of it would be different, but I was not expecting the many differences in the actual care of the patient. I won't get in to the details because that could get dreadfully boring for all the non-health care workers reading this (mick, I'll call you later) but I do feel that it's been a benefit to my "nursing practice" by seeing the methods of what each hospital does and why. But no matter where I work, the patients continue to teach me new things!
Yesterday, I took care of a young girl that immediatly reminded me of a previous patient that I had taken care of. But it wasn't so much the patients themselves that were similar, it was more of how I reacted to both of them that was the same.
The first patient was a teenage boy that carried a VERY rare genetic disorder that predisposed him to cancer with a poor prognosis. This disorder not only effected him, but the rest of his family. By the time I knew him, his mother had allready passed away from breast cancer, his brother had passed away from osteosarcoma, and his sister was currently in a different hospital fighting cancer herself.
The only family he had left was his grandma, who rarely visited.
Does anyone else feel like their "problems" just disappeared?
I thought, "How do I approach him? How will he react to me? closed off? depressed?" But instead, something happened that was quite the opposite.
EVERYTIME I did something for him, no matter how big or small it was, he ALWAYS replied with
"Thank You"
I was his nurse for a straight three days that week and many times after, and he never once failed to be grateful.
My other patient was a young girl that I took care of yesterday. She was sassy with attitude! Ms. drama queen! But I liked her for it! She was getting ready to be discharged home, when they decided to do a routine MRI before she left. The results showed that the tumor she had in her brain was actively bleeding causing too much pressure in her head. She immediatly went to surgery. The surgery went suprisingly well, given the bad circumstances. But it resulted in severe right sided weakness.
Right after returning from surgery, her mom left to run errands (ummmmm, ya). Luckily my other kids
weren't very busy, so I was able to spend a lot of time helping her with the most basic of tasks. And just like the young boy, each time I did something, no matter how small it was, she always replied with
"Thank you"
It wasn't until later when I stepped back to notice, that in each case I had a stronger desire to do my very best for them. I spent more time in their room making sure they had everything they needed, carried on longer conversations with them. Anything they wanted, I got for them. Icecream for breakfast? Totally ok. They had me wrapped around their finger!
Both of them taught me a whole new perspective on not to just be grateful, but to be grateful despite the hardest of circumstances. They did not cry, complain, lash out, or with draw, though they had every excuse to do so, and yet, they still did not. I have been working in this area for over two years now, and I can honestly say that the kids that FIGHT to live, generally DO live! I have seen it over and over again! I hope I never have to experience cancer the way these kids have, but whatever comes my way, I hope that I will have the same fight in me that I have seen first hand in them!
"Fight the good fight with faith" - unknown
Friday, March 8, 2013
Swearing
When I look back on my childhood, I can't remember a single time ever hearing a swear word being said at home, literally. (Go Mom and Dad!). Though despite my parents hard work, I became very familiar with every 4-letter word as I frequently played at the Isaacsons (naturally). I quickly learned that the twins had a love/hate relationship with ESPN.
Since becoming an "adult", I swear a lot more often. For some odd reason, that one little word will keep me from dramatically collapsing on the floor in pain after stubbing my toe. It just feels good. Enough said.
I went on a blind date a few weeks ago and I "accidentally" swore twice. But really, I was just testing the waters to see if it bothered him. (weird dating criteria?! probably)
But when it comes to the hospital, there is this unwritten rule, that you just-don't-swear. Especially working with kids! And I am proud to say that my record is squeaky clean! Not long ago I trained a new graduate nurse. She always did a good job, but when it came to high stressful moments, she just plain out, couldn't handle it. Without fail, she would swear and start crying. Even in front of the patient and family. After a few times I finally told her she needs to watch her mouth (politely, or course). Which only made her cry more. I felt bad a first, but after her third break down, I stopped caring. ( I really am a nice trainer, I swear).
I may be able to control my mouth when something goes wrong, but that doesn't mean that a real of swear words aren't going off in my head.
For Example: when...
The list could go on and on. But I remember one of my instructors in nursing school taught us that a good nurse can always remain calm and collected, despite her ... freaking-out, holy-crap, now-what-am-I-going-to-do?! ... emotions, NO MATTER the crisis, if only for the sake of the family.
Good lesson. Now if only I can apply that to my dating life.
Since becoming an "adult", I swear a lot more often. For some odd reason, that one little word will keep me from dramatically collapsing on the floor in pain after stubbing my toe. It just feels good. Enough said.
I went on a blind date a few weeks ago and I "accidentally" swore twice. But really, I was just testing the waters to see if it bothered him. (weird dating criteria?! probably)
But when it comes to the hospital, there is this unwritten rule, that you just-don't-swear. Especially working with kids! And I am proud to say that my record is squeaky clean! Not long ago I trained a new graduate nurse. She always did a good job, but when it came to high stressful moments, she just plain out, couldn't handle it. Without fail, she would swear and start crying. Even in front of the patient and family. After a few times I finally told her she needs to watch her mouth (politely, or course). Which only made her cry more. I felt bad a first, but after her third break down, I stopped caring. ( I really am a nice trainer, I swear).
I may be able to control my mouth when something goes wrong, but that doesn't mean that a real of swear words aren't going off in my head.
For Example: when...
- I'm doing a sterile dressing change and my patient hits my tray over (this was a baby, in case you were wondering).
- My kids' tubing getting caught on the bathroom handle, forcing a disconnection, causing chemo to fly in the air.
- Slipping and falling on a newly mopped floor. (yes, it happened)
- Chemo infiltrating at the port site. (going in to the skin, not the bloodstream)
- Walking in to find my kid throwing up after giving him oxycodone on an empty stomach. (woops! my bad)
- My kid reacts 5 minutes into starting a blood trasnfusion.
- I have to bag my 20 day year old baby in the hallway on my way to XRay.
The list could go on and on. But I remember one of my instructors in nursing school taught us that a good nurse can always remain calm and collected, despite her ... freaking-out, holy-crap, now-what-am-I-going-to-do?! ... emotions, NO MATTER the crisis, if only for the sake of the family.
Good lesson. Now if only I can apply that to my dating life.
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