I'm a people watcher. I find it amusing to see the impractical shoes people where to the airport or amusement park. Nothing like trying to lug about 100lbs of luggage around wearing a pair of high heels or run through a large airport to catch your connection the same silly shoes. It is also interesting to notice how oblivious people can be to being watched. Sometimes I feel like Jane Goodall, observing my fellow humans in their natural environments and they seem to not even notice me. It's good cheap entertainment. You can see underwear adjustments, nose picking, trips, spills, creative clothing selections, and so on.
Sometimes, the entertainment can become info-tainment and you learn something. Like, the other day standing in line at the grocery store. Myself and several other people watchers had shocked and upset facial expressions as we heard a father berate his young child. She may have been 7, but the tone in his voice and the things he said, were just downright ugly, mean and wrong to say to anyone at any age. So, I looked at my cheeky 3 yr old driving us nuts today and made a mental note to self, to not do that to her, anywhere at anytime. Even if she was (she really was) laying on the floor of the store, rubbing her belly saying she was tired and wanting to go home. We refrained from berating her, realizing she was not in anyone's way at the moment and not screaming. We'd give her a bath when once we were home and honestly, it was downright silly and amusing. It was hard not to laugh. I am guessing at least one other fellow people watcher was enjoying her antics too.
Anywho, people watching is fun and sometimes educational. Don't you agree?
Friday, November 24, 2006
Wednesday, November 22, 2006
Contemplations on Death
I am new ICU nurse, straight from nursing school to one of the toughest areas of nursing. ICU has some of the sickest patients, many in an acute crisis. Sometimes we help save a life. Sometimes, we witness the end of a life. Today, I witnessed first hand my first end of life.
I have had patients that were fatally ill that died after I had them on other shifts, but never has one I cared for died on my watch. It made me contemplative.
At first, there was the made flurry of medications, interventions and calls to doctors as we tried to save a life that was slipping. It was so chaotic. Everything must be documented. Label IV lines flowing into the patient. Double-check medication doses. Check vital signs and titrate the medications even more. Before you know it, there are 6 medications flowing into the patient. Many of the medications are starting to sound the same so I was triple checking myself. Xrays and ultrasounds had been done. I was using a doppler to find pulses as the patient slipped deeper into shock. Calls were made to the family. Meanwhile, my other patient needs me. Oh, and have I documented everything yet?
It became obvious within 2 hours hours that nothing was going to save her today. We still kept doing all the tasks, but eventually the family also came to the same understanding and decided to stop it all. The patient was removed from the ventillator. The medications were stopped, except the one for pain. That one, we increased the dosage. Within in minutes, the patient had no readble EKG, aka she was in asystole. She continued to breathe, in a strange gasping, slow motion manner. We couldn't feel a pulse, but there must have been a small, thready, weak beat from her heart. Eventually, even all that faded away. Quietly. So, quiet.
That is when it hit me. Up until those last 15 minutes, everything had been so ugly, so fast, so tense, painful and then suddenly it was peaceful. Quiet. The patient looked so relaxed. Almost relieved. Later, as we worked with the funeral home to transport her body, I looked at her hands and her face and thought about the long life she held. The children she raised. The things she did with those hands. I thought about what a privilege it was for me to be with her now and take care of her at the end of her life. Such an awesome privilege. I treated her with respect, talked to the family, and still managed to take care of my other patient.
I wondered if I was numb. Why wasn't I affected like this woman's family that was sobbing....losing their mother the day before Thanksgiving, only days before her 86th birthday? I was thinking about how the next couple of holidays would be tough on them as they remembered her passing. Then, I came back to my work and realized this wasn't personally happening to me. It was happening to them. I had the privilege of helping them through today and helping their mother have some dignity on her last day.
On a slightly odd note, just before we took the patient off the ventillator, I was asked to open the window near her room. I did it without thinking, because I didn't have time to wonder why. I found out why later. Our staff is superstitious. They feel the open window lets the soul escape. I was told "It lets them out of the unit." Who knew all these experienced, intelligent nurses could be so superstitious? :)
I have had patients that were fatally ill that died after I had them on other shifts, but never has one I cared for died on my watch. It made me contemplative.
At first, there was the made flurry of medications, interventions and calls to doctors as we tried to save a life that was slipping. It was so chaotic. Everything must be documented. Label IV lines flowing into the patient. Double-check medication doses. Check vital signs and titrate the medications even more. Before you know it, there are 6 medications flowing into the patient. Many of the medications are starting to sound the same so I was triple checking myself. Xrays and ultrasounds had been done. I was using a doppler to find pulses as the patient slipped deeper into shock. Calls were made to the family. Meanwhile, my other patient needs me. Oh, and have I documented everything yet?
It became obvious within 2 hours hours that nothing was going to save her today. We still kept doing all the tasks, but eventually the family also came to the same understanding and decided to stop it all. The patient was removed from the ventillator. The medications were stopped, except the one for pain. That one, we increased the dosage. Within in minutes, the patient had no readble EKG, aka she was in asystole. She continued to breathe, in a strange gasping, slow motion manner. We couldn't feel a pulse, but there must have been a small, thready, weak beat from her heart. Eventually, even all that faded away. Quietly. So, quiet.
That is when it hit me. Up until those last 15 minutes, everything had been so ugly, so fast, so tense, painful and then suddenly it was peaceful. Quiet. The patient looked so relaxed. Almost relieved. Later, as we worked with the funeral home to transport her body, I looked at her hands and her face and thought about the long life she held. The children she raised. The things she did with those hands. I thought about what a privilege it was for me to be with her now and take care of her at the end of her life. Such an awesome privilege. I treated her with respect, talked to the family, and still managed to take care of my other patient.
I wondered if I was numb. Why wasn't I affected like this woman's family that was sobbing....losing their mother the day before Thanksgiving, only days before her 86th birthday? I was thinking about how the next couple of holidays would be tough on them as they remembered her passing. Then, I came back to my work and realized this wasn't personally happening to me. It was happening to them. I had the privilege of helping them through today and helping their mother have some dignity on her last day.
On a slightly odd note, just before we took the patient off the ventillator, I was asked to open the window near her room. I did it without thinking, because I didn't have time to wonder why. I found out why later. Our staff is superstitious. They feel the open window lets the soul escape. I was told "It lets them out of the unit." Who knew all these experienced, intelligent nurses could be so superstitious? :)
Welcome
People have always commented about me getting up on my soapbox to rant about something. Well, over the years I have mellowed a smidge and I think I lost my soapbox. Maybe I can find my soapbox again and express some random ramblings about life and somethings that approximate life. I hear that is what blogging is all about.
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