Nursing 101 (Part 6)

You know you're a nurse when:

It's been two days since I've worked a shift in a hospital, and I can still hear the alarms; heart monitors, oxygen saturation monitors, blood pressure monitors, alaris pumps, ventilators, feeding pumps, my work cell phone, bed alarms, CRRT, SCD pumps, call lights, you name it. 

On My Own

Today I worked my first full shift on my own without a preceptor. It felt good to put everything I had learned into practice. I also had a chance to witness something beautiful, and I want to record it. 

This past week that I've worked, we have withdrawn care on 5 patients that I have cared for. Withdrawing care means "pull the plug" or "comfort measures". Most patients we withdraw on are intubated with a machine called a ventilator to help them breathe and heavily medicated with drugs called vasopressors to keep their heart beating. When we withdraw, we take out all unecessary tubes and machines and turn off IV medications with the exception of pain medications. And then within minutes, hours, or sometimes days our patient dies.

Today I was reminded of the beauty that can be seen in my profession. The older woman I was caring for was admitted for a stroke. It messed with her memory quite a bit. She was blind and hard of hearing. Her granddaughter flew in from Europe to see her. They hadn't seen each other in two years. 

I walked the woman to the waiting room with her walker, and helped her into a comfortable position. The woman's daughter smiled and cried as she explained to the woman that she had special visitors. Then the granddaughter  spoke. "It's me, Grandma."

The woman's face lit up,  and she reached up to cup her grandaughter's face in her hands. She knew her granddaughter. It was like a spark lit inside of her and she had become the woman she was before; sharp, witty, and ever so lovely. I want to remember that feeling. The feeling of coming home. The happy tears that can be shed as a nurse as opposed to the sorrowful ones with tender goodbyes and good intentions. 

It felt good to do good and to be a part of such a heart warming moment. My heart grew today. It grows every day. But today it grew just a little bit more.

Tender Mercies Part Four

There's something beautiful about the power of thunderstorms in Tennessee. The sky lights up like Fantasmic. It flashes brilliant shades of purple across the sunrise like a red carpet paparazzi. The thunder bellows deep and low-- and it seems like one roll of thunder sneakily rolls into the next. And the rain. The windshield wipers of the bus can't keep up with the down pour. 

I've long been terrified of the lights and sounds of severe mthunderstorms. They're so much more intense than simple rain. But today I watched in awe and wonder as God put on a light show like children Christmas light watching in December. It's brilliant and beautiful. 

How lucky I am to know The Maker and for the gift of sight He has given me to marvel at His creations and power. I am so blessed.

Bus Conversations

Today I overheard two old friends greet each other on the morning bus. It went like this:

"Hi Veera, how are you this mornin'?"

"Blessed, friend, very blessed."

I need to think more like Veera. I'm grateful I ride the bus to work with her, and many other people. The smallest of interactions can be powerful reminders. 

And also, bus riding is great for people watching. 

Weight of the World

March 8, 2015

Today I got a taste of the depth and weight of my job.

My role is critical.

Today someone learns their brain tumor is benign or they learn it's malignant, inoperable, and terminal. Today someone's mother loses a child, a daughter loses her dad, someone loses a sister, a best friend, a son-- something so life altering and unthinkable, yet it's a common occurrence here.

They come and plead, " Doctor, fix me, please. Doctor, please tell me what's wrong with me. " And some never leave the hospital again. Some get a second chance at life with minimal complications. Some lose their legs, an arm and a leg, their senses, their minds, and some lose their lives. They're hooked up to machines that breathe for them, pump for them, machines that even act like their own kidney. Some walk in with a headache, and become an organ donor within days. This work has weight.

I am the hands that care for these people. For the one moving to the next life, and for the loved ones left behind. The veil is very thin, and Heaven's Angels reside very close by.

I witness the worst day of someones life every day I walk into work. My job is hard. My job is physically and emotionally taxing. They didn't teach us how to work through this in nursing school. 

What an honor it is to be the Hands and Heart that care for the Lord's children in their hour of need. The load is heavy. But I know the work I do is important. I'm so grateful to be here. 

Nurse Resident Orientation Day Three (Nashville Tennessee)

Today was day three.
I'm learning a ton, but I'm finding I know a lot as well.
I recognize some things, and others seem past my understanding.
But mostly I'm learning,
and I'm soaking it all up like a sponge.
I'm meeting new people--I can tell they're good people.
We're in for the long haul together.
I'm grateful for them.
I caught myself losing interest today,
like I'd decided that I was too good for orientation.
For wounds and ostomies
For the professionals that prepared their presentations.
For my peers surrounding me in that old gym.
And I corrected myself.
Thank Goodness.
This is the good thing about nursing:
There is always more to learn.
I have potential, and that potential continues to grow.
This opportunity is Gold.
I have the chance to work among the best,
to learn from the best,
to become like the best.
They really want me to succeed,
and I really want them to see that happen.
Just like BYU prepared me for this moment,
Vanderbilt will prepare me for the next.
There are no limits.
Only possibilities. 

The NCLEX: #MostEmbarrassingMoment

On Groundhog's Day, Kendra and I took the NCLEX. It's the nursing exam of death. An exam like nothing else we've taken before. We studied daily for months with the exception of Sundays. The night before the exam, we stayed the night at Kendra's place. And lets just say I broke the ice. Im pretty sure it was my most embarrassing moment yet. It went a little something like this:

After arriving at Kendra's house I went upstairs to change into my jammies and out of my church clothes. It was late, and I was tired and nervous and uncomfortable. As I walked down her steep staircase I found myself flying and shrieking and really quite surprised -- and still in this very moment I don't know how I flew-- but I had a rough landing. My rump hit one step, two steps, three steps-- I flew again and lost track of the steps as I skidded to a stop. The world slowed for a split second as I caught my breath. Kendra ran around the corner to see the sight-- and we both busted up, doubled over in laughter. 

Or in Kendra's words:

"I waited anxiously for Jessie to join me downstairs so we could snuggle together in our comfy pajamas. Out of nowhere I suddenly heard a shriek and pounding like a herd of elephants coming down the stairs. I whipped my head towards the sound  just in time to see Jessie hit the last couple of stairs while suspended in a semi-fowlers position. Of course the polite thing to do to a guest would be to make sure she was okay while helping her up and trying to alleviate the awkwardness. But I, being the thoughtful caring person I am, ran over and fell on the stairs next to her laughing hysterically with little regard to her emotional or physical condition. These are the events that will ever be remembered as preceding the dreaded day of our NCLEX exam."

And we both passed. 

We're both Registered Nurses now!