I realize that the knitting content has been non-existent for months now, and that's mainly due to the change in my free time since starting work as a nurse. No excuse, really, but I am just pooped by the time I get home. My free days are spent running errands and catching up on work around the house.
Still, I'm trying to get back on track because I love the calmness it brings into my life - if only for that short amount of time. The only projects I've completed this year were two pairs of hand warmers and a simple scarf of which I've yet to post any pictures.
I have a sweater I started in November that has been sitting in a basket without sleeves since December. I thought I'd be smart and work them at the same time, but that has only slowed me down. I'm finally through the forearm shaping and have a few more inches of stockinette to go before beginning to shape the caps. Part of me is hesitant to finish since the body fits me so well. I hate to mess it up with the sleeves.
I have other projects in mind, but I won't allow myself to start on them until I finish this sweater that has been haunting me.
I also picked up some sock yarn last weekend when I was in Houston. I made a trip to Yarns 2 Ewe, and I found it breathtaking. I'm from a small town where my yarn supply is limited to Hobby Lobby, Walmart, and Michael's so I could have spent hours in that one store, but I had a non-knitter with me who did not understand the feeling. (For any other newbies to that store, it is on a one-way street. So don't forget and try to leave the wrong way. Just saying. Not that I did.)
For anyone interested...
Thursday, July 31, 2008
Sunday, July 27, 2008
My First DNR
The nurse giving me report told me she wouldn't be alive much longer. Most of her systems had shut down, and her breathing was agonal. Family was in the room now, and they understood that her death was imminent. My main focus was to keep her as comfortable as possible.
I was in another patient's room when the aide found me. One of the daughters was looking for me. "I don't think she's breathing anymore." One look at the patient confirmed it, but I listened for breath and heart sounds. Nothing. "I'm sorry," I said to the family. The house supervisor pronounced the death at 10:45am.
After calling the transplant hotline and funeral home, I returned to prepare the body. It was quiet with the family gone to the waiting room. I've witnessed death, but this was my first time to be alone with death. I removed the IVs, catheter, and monitor before beginning to bathe her. An aide came in to help me finish. We put on a new diaper and turned her to change the linens. At one point we saw some kind of green secretions on the new sheet, but we couldn't tell where it had come from. I just made sure the pillow covered the spot. I smoothed down her hair and pulled up the top sheet and blanket. Her jaw hung wide open. I didn't know what to do with her arms and hands. Should I lay them by her side or put her hands together at her chest? Both seemed awkward and contrived.
In the end it didn't matter for the family didn't return. A guy in a dark suit came to pick up the body, and I passed him later on my way to a new admit as he pushed a blue velvet bag down the hall.
I was in another patient's room when the aide found me. One of the daughters was looking for me. "I don't think she's breathing anymore." One look at the patient confirmed it, but I listened for breath and heart sounds. Nothing. "I'm sorry," I said to the family. The house supervisor pronounced the death at 10:45am.
After calling the transplant hotline and funeral home, I returned to prepare the body. It was quiet with the family gone to the waiting room. I've witnessed death, but this was my first time to be alone with death. I removed the IVs, catheter, and monitor before beginning to bathe her. An aide came in to help me finish. We put on a new diaper and turned her to change the linens. At one point we saw some kind of green secretions on the new sheet, but we couldn't tell where it had come from. I just made sure the pillow covered the spot. I smoothed down her hair and pulled up the top sheet and blanket. Her jaw hung wide open. I didn't know what to do with her arms and hands. Should I lay them by her side or put her hands together at her chest? Both seemed awkward and contrived.
In the end it didn't matter for the family didn't return. A guy in a dark suit came to pick up the body, and I passed him later on my way to a new admit as he pushed a blue velvet bag down the hall.
Tuesday, July 22, 2008
Can you hear me now?
"So, are you coming with us to Colombia?"
He had to be kidding. A few weeks ago my father started talking seriously of making a trip in August. I was excited and immediately said that I wanted to go. He didn't seem too thrilled and said something about keeping the trip just for him and my brother. Maybe he would take my sister and I at Christmas.
I thought that he may not have realized that I intended to pay my own way, and I approached him later, privately. No change. I was a little hurt by his attitude. I'm not the kind of person to continue to push myself into a situation where I'm clearly not welcome. Once more at a later date, I let him know that I was still interested, but that I needed to know travel dates by July 15th in order to be able to request the time off from work. From then on, I simply dropped it.
So when he asked me last night if I was still planning to go, I stared back at him a moment before reminding him that the deadline to change my schedule had passed and that he had told me several times he intended the trip to just include he and my brother. His response was a flat-out denial. He never told me those things, and I never told him of any deadline.
I was furious, but I managed to maintain some level of composure to tell him that we did talk on at least three separate occasions and that it was now too late for me to make plans to go. My sister and brother were there sitting quietly, and I told my father that they had each witnessed his responses to me at least once. He continued to insist that he had no recollection of those conversations, and it was my fault. I should have approached him when he was in a better mood.
My father struggles with anxiety/depression at any given time. He doesn't handle change well at all. There is almost no such thing as good timing when discussing anything with my dad, but each time we spoke about the trip he was in as calm a manner as he ever is. Last night he said that the past few weeks have been stressful for him, he was not in any shape to listen or make any plans as he hadn't been sure of specific dates, and that he was not going to play any guilt-trip games. I told him I understood if he couldn't meet the deadline I needed so that I could make plans to go and that I wasn't playing any games. But don't call me a liar, and don't tell me you didn't say the things you did. If he was going through a darker period (than usual), he needed to let us know because it affects family, too.
Today he asked me if I'd changed my schedule yet.
Fuck him.
He had to be kidding. A few weeks ago my father started talking seriously of making a trip in August. I was excited and immediately said that I wanted to go. He didn't seem too thrilled and said something about keeping the trip just for him and my brother. Maybe he would take my sister and I at Christmas.
I thought that he may not have realized that I intended to pay my own way, and I approached him later, privately. No change. I was a little hurt by his attitude. I'm not the kind of person to continue to push myself into a situation where I'm clearly not welcome. Once more at a later date, I let him know that I was still interested, but that I needed to know travel dates by July 15th in order to be able to request the time off from work. From then on, I simply dropped it.
So when he asked me last night if I was still planning to go, I stared back at him a moment before reminding him that the deadline to change my schedule had passed and that he had told me several times he intended the trip to just include he and my brother. His response was a flat-out denial. He never told me those things, and I never told him of any deadline.
I was furious, but I managed to maintain some level of composure to tell him that we did talk on at least three separate occasions and that it was now too late for me to make plans to go. My sister and brother were there sitting quietly, and I told my father that they had each witnessed his responses to me at least once. He continued to insist that he had no recollection of those conversations, and it was my fault. I should have approached him when he was in a better mood.
My father struggles with anxiety/depression at any given time. He doesn't handle change well at all. There is almost no such thing as good timing when discussing anything with my dad, but each time we spoke about the trip he was in as calm a manner as he ever is. Last night he said that the past few weeks have been stressful for him, he was not in any shape to listen or make any plans as he hadn't been sure of specific dates, and that he was not going to play any guilt-trip games. I told him I understood if he couldn't meet the deadline I needed so that I could make plans to go and that I wasn't playing any games. But don't call me a liar, and don't tell me you didn't say the things you did. If he was going through a darker period (than usual), he needed to let us know because it affects family, too.
Today he asked me if I'd changed my schedule yet.
Fuck him.
Green Tea
One of my patients was describing her last hospital visitation to me, and she said it was the green tea that made her sick. When I would ask her about the green tea, she couldn't tell me what it was called, only that it came in a pretty green bottle. She likes to collect bottles, and she was sad that she couldn't keep this one because it reminded her of how bad she had felt.
She was also upset that her family and even doctors found the whole event funny. I assured her that no one would have found her pain funny, but maybe they laughed because the whole story was just so strange. When I asked her doctor about this green tea, he immediately started laughing.
The patient had drunk an entire bottle of magnesium citrate.
She was also upset that her family and even doctors found the whole event funny. I assured her that no one would have found her pain funny, but maybe they laughed because the whole story was just so strange. When I asked her doctor about this green tea, he immediately started laughing.
The patient had drunk an entire bottle of magnesium citrate.
Friday, July 18, 2008
With friends like these...
It was the first time I'd seen her in 7 years. Over the last few months we'd made two plans to meet since she found me on-line. Once she stood me up. The second time she backed out. I honestly didn't care if Erica and I ever got together to "catch up and stuff." I only knew her well enough in high school to have small talk in gym or any other class we may have shared.
I got off from work and was walking to my car when I checked my messages only to find a text. What are you doing tonight? I texted back to ask what she had in mind. Pool party I was tired and had work the next day, but I wanted to go. I was tired of all work and no play these last few months.
I told her I'd pick her up, and when I pulled onto her street I called to let her know I was there. Are you wearing makeup? Ummm, a little. "Come inside. You're not afraid of dogs, are you?" I wasn't, and it was a good thing as four very large and very eager dogs met me at the door. She led me back toward the bathroom, and I leaned against the door frame as we chatted somewhat awkwardly while she finished putting on a full face of makeup and straightening her curly hair.
We continued to talk about who we still hung out with from high school, and I asked her more about this party. She said one of her friends was turning 28, and his cousin was throwing the party for him. She called for specific directions on our way there, and after several wrong turns and calls we made it to the house. (His directions were terrible; he could have given three turns by street name rather than using vague landmarks that were all over this particular area.)
We arrived to find this friend, his much older cousin, and some even older guy sitting at the kitchen table on his laptop. That's it. If a few more people hadn't shown up just then, I would have been ready to leave. Even so, it wasn't exactly my crowd. All topics of conversation centered on their latest escapades at our local bars/clubs. That's it. I wanted to shake them by their shoulders and ask, "Seriously? Is that all you do?" I get going out with friends, but, to me, that gets old fast if that's all you do with those friends. Then again, I discovered that Erica and I had a different definition of the word friend when I asked how long she'd known these people. She knew no one but the birthday boy, and this was only the fourth time she'd even seen him - the first outside of a bar. Right.
I spent most of the time talking to this guy Grant who seemed cool and , most importantly, different from the others. He actually had something to say that didn't include a bartender or "this girl/guy from the bar the other night." He did have some kind of phobia when it came to water, because he absolutely refused to go near the pool (which was only chest-high on me at 5'8"). It was obvious there was more going on than just not wanting to get wet.
Erica and I both had to get up early the next day, so we left a little after midnight. I dropped her off (after stopping for tacos), and as I drove home I realized I felt sorry for her. She seemed less sure of herself then she had at 18.
I got off from work and was walking to my car when I checked my messages only to find a text. What are you doing tonight? I texted back to ask what she had in mind. Pool party I was tired and had work the next day, but I wanted to go. I was tired of all work and no play these last few months.
I told her I'd pick her up, and when I pulled onto her street I called to let her know I was there. Are you wearing makeup? Ummm, a little. "Come inside. You're not afraid of dogs, are you?" I wasn't, and it was a good thing as four very large and very eager dogs met me at the door. She led me back toward the bathroom, and I leaned against the door frame as we chatted somewhat awkwardly while she finished putting on a full face of makeup and straightening her curly hair.
We continued to talk about who we still hung out with from high school, and I asked her more about this party. She said one of her friends was turning 28, and his cousin was throwing the party for him. She called for specific directions on our way there, and after several wrong turns and calls we made it to the house. (His directions were terrible; he could have given three turns by street name rather than using vague landmarks that were all over this particular area.)
We arrived to find this friend, his much older cousin, and some even older guy sitting at the kitchen table on his laptop. That's it. If a few more people hadn't shown up just then, I would have been ready to leave. Even so, it wasn't exactly my crowd. All topics of conversation centered on their latest escapades at our local bars/clubs. That's it. I wanted to shake them by their shoulders and ask, "Seriously? Is that all you do?" I get going out with friends, but, to me, that gets old fast if that's all you do with those friends. Then again, I discovered that Erica and I had a different definition of the word friend when I asked how long she'd known these people. She knew no one but the birthday boy, and this was only the fourth time she'd even seen him - the first outside of a bar. Right.
I spent most of the time talking to this guy Grant who seemed cool and , most importantly, different from the others. He actually had something to say that didn't include a bartender or "this girl/guy from the bar the other night." He did have some kind of phobia when it came to water, because he absolutely refused to go near the pool (which was only chest-high on me at 5'8"). It was obvious there was more going on than just not wanting to get wet.
Erica and I both had to get up early the next day, so we left a little after midnight. I dropped her off (after stopping for tacos), and as I drove home I realized I felt sorry for her. She seemed less sure of herself then she had at 18.
Wednesday, July 16, 2008
Because everyone else has...
1. What was I doing 10 years ago? Ten summers ago, I was fifteen and in the middle of hand-raising my lovebird, Pip. That baby bird ate every 30 minutes for the first month and then every hour for the second month. So, yeah - that was pretty much all I was doing ten years ago.
2. What are 5 things on my to-do list today? How about 5 things on my to-do list on my next day off? 1. Do my laundry. 2. Open an account at a local credit union in order to apply for a home loan. 3. See my chiropractor. 4. Run (I'm on a wait list for a half-marathon in January) 5. Finish a short story.
3. Snacks that I enjoy? Avocado and lime, fried plantains, banana and honey, chips and salsa
4. Things I would do if I was a billionaire? 1. Buy a beautiful but modest home. 2. Buy a vacation home to share with my best friends and family. 3. Pay off all family debts 4. Travel 5. Donate to organizations like World Vision (Sponsor entire villages or even countries rather than one child) 6. Fund nursing scholarships 7. Have a destination wedding - and provide all guests with transportation and lodging 8. Beautification projects in my hometown 9. Work because I want to, not because I have to. 10. Invest wisely so that I can ensure at least the financial stability of future generations.
5. Places I've lived? Maryland, Texas, Louisiana, Florida, Colombia S.A.
6. Jobs I've had? church nursery worker; baby-sitter; party planner/child wrangler at kid's play place; McDonald's drive-thru; DOT: Outdoor Advertising intern; nurse aide at assisted living; ICU nurse tech; telemetry nurse tech; home shopping telephone operator; home health aide; staff nurse
2. What are 5 things on my to-do list today? How about 5 things on my to-do list on my next day off? 1. Do my laundry. 2. Open an account at a local credit union in order to apply for a home loan. 3. See my chiropractor. 4. Run (I'm on a wait list for a half-marathon in January) 5. Finish a short story.
3. Snacks that I enjoy? Avocado and lime, fried plantains, banana and honey, chips and salsa
4. Things I would do if I was a billionaire? 1. Buy a beautiful but modest home. 2. Buy a vacation home to share with my best friends and family. 3. Pay off all family debts 4. Travel 5. Donate to organizations like World Vision (Sponsor entire villages or even countries rather than one child) 6. Fund nursing scholarships 7. Have a destination wedding - and provide all guests with transportation and lodging 8. Beautification projects in my hometown 9. Work because I want to, not because I have to. 10. Invest wisely so that I can ensure at least the financial stability of future generations.
5. Places I've lived? Maryland, Texas, Louisiana, Florida, Colombia S.A.
6. Jobs I've had? church nursery worker; baby-sitter; party planner/child wrangler at kid's play place; McDonald's drive-thru; DOT: Outdoor Advertising intern; nurse aide at assisted living; ICU nurse tech; telemetry nurse tech; home shopping telephone operator; home health aide; staff nurse
Sunday, July 13, 2008
Like a baby
I cried for the first time at work.
I had a patient with continuous bladder irrigation for two days. Thursday morning I was told in report that he had half a liter hanging. When I saw him during my first round, I found the bag nearly empty. I went straight to the med room to pull his irrigant and was heading back out when his doctor poked his head in, looking for the man's nurse. I showed him the bag in my hand, and he walked off muttering "I hope it wasn't empty all night" over his shoulder.
Friday morning I made sure to see this man even before getting report. He had plenty of fluid hanging, it was dripping at the ordered rate, and the catheter was draining nicely. He was still passing a lot of clots, so he continued to require close monitoring to make sure his catheter remained patent. I kept his door open so that I could check the bag and patency every time I passed his room when seeing my other patients.
I was returning from passing meds when I glanced into his room to check in and found his doctor bent over the bed, flushing the catheter, and muttering under his breath. He looked up when I entered the room and immediately began complaining about the complete lack of care his patient was receiving. The latest lab report showed a spike in his WBC (which I hadn't see as it hadn't been ready when I was looking over the labs). He knows that I'm a new nurse, and he also included a "You don't need to be learning on a 90-year-0ld man. Go learn on a teenager." between repeating "This man could die." over and over again. The patient had an order to transfer to a med bed (this was telemetry), but we hadn't received a room comfirmation yet. When I told him this after he asked why the man was still here, he just went ballistic and left the room saying he was going to find the supervisor. This all happened at 8:00am. By 8:30am the patient had been transferred.
At 9am I was charting when someone tapped my shoulder. I turned around to find my nursing director and three other people (I still don't know who they were) standing behind me. They started asking me questions, and I began to tell them exactly what had happened. As I was talking, my lower lip quivered until I could no longer keep back the hot tears threatening to expose me.
I was embarrassed, but I was also very angry at the way the doctor took it all out on me and how much he scared me by acting as though I had been an accessory to attempted murder. Both times we interacted, I had only just begun my shift. How the hell could I be responsible for the last 12 hours of the man's care?
I haven't see the doctor again. Apparently when speaking with the supervisor and others he complimented me but told them they needed to provide better support for new nurses.
Like he did?
I had a patient with continuous bladder irrigation for two days. Thursday morning I was told in report that he had half a liter hanging. When I saw him during my first round, I found the bag nearly empty. I went straight to the med room to pull his irrigant and was heading back out when his doctor poked his head in, looking for the man's nurse. I showed him the bag in my hand, and he walked off muttering "I hope it wasn't empty all night" over his shoulder.
Friday morning I made sure to see this man even before getting report. He had plenty of fluid hanging, it was dripping at the ordered rate, and the catheter was draining nicely. He was still passing a lot of clots, so he continued to require close monitoring to make sure his catheter remained patent. I kept his door open so that I could check the bag and patency every time I passed his room when seeing my other patients.
I was returning from passing meds when I glanced into his room to check in and found his doctor bent over the bed, flushing the catheter, and muttering under his breath. He looked up when I entered the room and immediately began complaining about the complete lack of care his patient was receiving. The latest lab report showed a spike in his WBC (which I hadn't see as it hadn't been ready when I was looking over the labs). He knows that I'm a new nurse, and he also included a "You don't need to be learning on a 90-year-0ld man. Go learn on a teenager." between repeating "This man could die." over and over again. The patient had an order to transfer to a med bed (this was telemetry), but we hadn't received a room comfirmation yet. When I told him this after he asked why the man was still here, he just went ballistic and left the room saying he was going to find the supervisor. This all happened at 8:00am. By 8:30am the patient had been transferred.
At 9am I was charting when someone tapped my shoulder. I turned around to find my nursing director and three other people (I still don't know who they were) standing behind me. They started asking me questions, and I began to tell them exactly what had happened. As I was talking, my lower lip quivered until I could no longer keep back the hot tears threatening to expose me.
I was embarrassed, but I was also very angry at the way the doctor took it all out on me and how much he scared me by acting as though I had been an accessory to attempted murder. Both times we interacted, I had only just begun my shift. How the hell could I be responsible for the last 12 hours of the man's care?
I haven't see the doctor again. Apparently when speaking with the supervisor and others he complimented me but told them they needed to provide better support for new nurses.
Like he did?
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