The Death Post has inspired some excellent comments.
Tell me your stories. Tell me what sticks with you after twenty years, or what shocked you your first year out. Tell me why you do what you do, why you stick with it, why you continue to give a damn.
Post in the comments below, or send your stories to me using the email link. I'll read them all (promise!) and I might ask persimmons to republish a few up here, where everyone can read them.
I am amazed. I am amazed and honored to be called a nurse, and to share that title with the people who've posted below. Thank you.
Jo
Tuesday, November 22, 2005
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4 comments:
Sometimes I have patients who do not try.
They ignore the incentive spirometer, they don't want to stay out-of-bed more than five minutes, they poop themselves rather than get up, they refuse meds, even after they make me call the doctor just to get orders for those requested meds.
But I tell them that even though sometimes "patients" may feel like giving up, I never do. I will never give up on them, even if they give up on themselves.
Then I get them all liquored up on narcotics.
Works most of the time.
My dad used to read me "The Little Engine Who Could." Every night. For years.
He gave me, though unwittingly, the soul of a marathoner. (2:46 was my best, on a flat course.)
Even after 26 years, you can still revel in the basic humanity of your patients. Imagine being on the other side.. You have Parkinsons, can't speak above a whisper; and need re-intubation after hernia surgery because you aspirated stomach contents. I will hold your hand, explain the proceedure you will experience, and make sure that you have all the drugs you need to never emember this process. I will also call your family and explain it; make sure the vent settings are coorect; and ensure that the post-proceedure orders are written correctly.
Some days, I love my job.
have way too many of these stories. Some of them are written, some not yet. Loved hearing about everyone else's experiences... there's a whole subculture of people out there who're good at end of life care, evidently.
Goodbye letters.
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