Don't Come Back

He wasn’t supposed to return. I had admitted him to our unit the week before in the middle of the night. He was young – 46 – and he was showing early signs of a stroke. He had diabetes and high blood pressure that had never been controlled. He and his family were sweet. He spoke very little English – “thank you,” “yes” “no” – was about the extent of his vocabulary. His son, who must have been 18 or 19, did the translating. I REALLY liked them but I kept thinking…you shouldn’t be here. You are my generation. We are too young to have all these complications. We should have SO much time left.

He had been in the U.S. for several years with his family and it appears he had adopted many of our less than glamorous habits – fast food and a sedentary lifestyle. While we had taught him about McDonalds and big screen televisions, we neglected to teach him about our healthcare system. Now he was paying the price. He didn’t have a regular physician and years of not managing his health had caught up to him. I was having a relatively quiet night and all of my other patients were in good shape so I was able to listen in as the physicians evaluated and talked to him. It broke my heart as they asked his son to relay to his dad the seriousness of his condition and the importance of getting a grip on his health or he might DIE. I remember thinking how awful for a son to have to relay this message to his father. That seems like an enormous burden for a kid. I knew they were right but what a message to have to communicate to your dad.

The patient was just having the beginning signs of blood vessel issues and lack of adequate oxygen to his brain – some dizziness, minor slurring but no numbness or tingling in his arms or legs. This was the good news. Maybe with the right medication and some changes…maybe there was time to manage the condition and stop the progression. I felt hopeful on his behalf. After the doctor’s left, I heard him talking in his native language to his wife. I heard the wife mention the word coffee and I broke in…”would you like some coffee?” She looked at me amazed. “Yes, you understood me? Coffee?” Little did she know who she was dealing with. I understand coffee in every language. After getting them settled, they fell asleep exhausted and I left for the day. When I returned to work a few days later he was gone and I hoped he was on his way to health and a long life.

Last Thursday night around 2 a.m. my charge nurse told me she had a new admit for me and gave me his name. My heart dropped. At first I hoped it was a mistake and she was looking at an old message on her pager. It was the name of my friend from the week before. No mistake. He was back and he was worse. As much as I liked him and his family, it was not a good sign that he was back. Not only was he back but he now couldn’t move his entire right side. His stroke had extended. I talked with his family and he had just started all his medications the day before. It was heart breaking. Once again his son was there to translate – although I suggested to the day nurse that the translating service be called. How awful for a son to have to repeatedly tell his dad that his life was being cut short by years of poor health decisions. Having his son translate just wasn’t right. By now I knew what they liked. I got them coffee and warm blankets. I gave him insulin and medication for his blood pressure and I prayed.

I don’t know if he will still be there when I return to work tonight but I worry about him. He is too young. He should have a lot of life ahead of him with his wife and kids. I want that for him. He came to the States for more opportunities than he had in his native land. I want him to realize these opportunities - not die before he ever sees 50. I want him to be okay and for this to just be a wake-up call. I don’t want it to be too late for him.

Love Heals

This is not the original post I wrote for today. My thoughts on IV drug use didn’t scream “LOVE.” I will save it.

My little people look forward to Valentine’s Day with eager anticipation. They LOVE making their valentine boxes. They select with care the Valentine’s they will hand out at school. This year we have an assortment of Angry Birds, Mad Libs, sports and cupcake cards complete with erasers. My eldest is a little more careful which Valentine he selects for the girls. I did notice that a particular girl got the princess valentine. I know other people that dread Valentine’s Day. I have a dear friend who had a rough Valentine’s Day early on with her love. Since that fateful holiday, they have just agreed to kind of skip over it. It works for them. They are very good about letting each other know they care the other 364 days. I go both ways on the day. I have been married long enough to know that it is just better to be straightforward about expectations. I told Michael about a week ago that I got him a card AND a gift. This lets him know that it is not just a card holiday.  I am not asking for diamonds – just a box of chocolates – or a bag of M&M’s. I am not a fancy girl.

Regardless of how you feel about this holiday of love, one of the important lessons I have learned from being a nurse for 5 months is that love really can heal. The unselfish, kind, caring love has more healing properties than just about any medication I can give you. I have seen it.

I had a lovely patient a few weeks back. She was about 75 and had a minor stroke. By the time she was my patient, many of her symptoms had resolved. Her very sweet, dapper husband was in the room with her and looked like he had made the pull out couch into his home for the past few days. I couldn’t help but notice as I assessed her skin that she looked tan…REALLY tan next to my pale, Oregon, night-shift working skin. “Where have you been?” I asked her. “Florida, Hawaii, St. Lucia and we are heading to Palm Springs in a week so I really need to get out of here,” was her reply. She and her husband were tanned, toned and very kind. They had been together a long time. Their story unfolded the more time I spent with her. She really needed to get better. Her husband, who was 91 but looked 65, had mild dementia. He was staying with her in the hospital because he couldn’t really stay by himself safely. He also just wanted to be with her. She was well on her way to discharge and getting better because he needed her. I got the sense she would be lost without him too. I have no doubt they will be toasting Valentine’s Day somewhere warm today. I hope they have at least 10 more years together to bask in their love and the sun. 

Another patient of mine around the same time was a man about my age who had a reoccurring brain tumor. He was on my unit recovering from the removal of part of the tumor. His odds of survival aren’t great. As I was looking at his chart I commented that he had an upcoming birthday – Valentine’s Day. His comment to me: “yeah, if I make it that long.” I was silent. Sadly, it was a realistic comment. He really might not be among us today. What really struck me was his mom. It must be hard to see your baby in the hospital…even when your baby is well beyond their teen years. All night she slept in the chair next to her son’s bed. When I asked her if she knew that the couch by the window folded out into a bed she said she did but her son gets confused at night and he feels better with her in the chair right by his bed. She looked really uncomfortable sleeping in the chair that night but she wouldn’t have been anywhere else. She knew her time left with her son was most likely very limited and she was going to make the most of it. Her love couldn’t cure her son’s tumor but her love could heal the loneliness and fear that he was experiencing. 

I have seen concerned loved ones walking the halls of the hospital at night, sleeping on the couch or in the chair beside their loved ones and crying on phones outside of hospital rooms and I believe love really does heal. Love makes you braver, stronger and makes the unknown journey possible.

Whatever your celebration holds today –heart-shaped pizza, flowers, paper hearts – remember that your love can be healing. Happy Valentine’s Day.

Mirror, Mirror

I had a startling realization this week. It is easier for me to have patience for my patients than for my own family. At first glance this may seem like small news but think about it…some of my patients have odd habits and questionable hygiene practices. The majority of my patients are kind and lovely but I do have some that are grumpy, demanding and occasionally shout obscenities. I have more patience for ALL OF THEM than I do for my own kids. Wow. 

I was pondering this while running. Sometimes my best thoughts come when I am running. I can solve a lot of problems while running because I am trying to think about anything besides how hard it is to run. So, on this particularly warm, lovely day, I took to the streets and tried to figure out why I am calmer and kinder to ornery, painful adults than to these two cuties…

…And I came to this conclusion. Sometimes these sweet, innocent little people can reflect back to me the less than beautiful aspects of my own personality. THIS IS HARD. 

Mason’s been having a hard time sleeping lately.  The kids were finally in bed the other night and Mason was “supposed” to be asleep. The kid doesn’t sleep much. He is like the energizer bunny. Yes, we have blackout shades, he doesn’t have toys in his room, I have read “Healthy Sleep, Happy Child” etc., etc. He just doesn’t sleep much. About 30 minutes after he was done reading he came out and said he couldn’t fall asleep. I went upstairs and yelled, yes yelled at him to go to bed. That’s a nice way to calm someone down, isn’t it? Sleep deprived myself from three night shifts in a row, I couldn’t hack it. All I wanted was an hour of peace before turning in. As you can imagine, the yelling lullaby did not put him to sleep. Knowing my limits (for once) I sent Michael upstairs. At first he thought about using my same tactic but fortunately his patience kicked in and he helped calm Mason down. 

I say the wrong thing a lot to Mason. He is an intense, energetic kid who likes to be right. He knows how to make me mad and he has even admitted on occasion that he likes to do it. I know I am supposed to walk away but mostly, I find that I can’t. I know. I am the grown-up. I just don’t always act like it. Then it struck me… I have several of those personality traits of Mason’s that make me crazy. I like to do three or four things at one time. I am constantly moving. I like to be right. Some may even say I am a bit neurotic (just usually not to my face). Sometimes it is hard for me to settle down. Oh. Yikes. So, I get frustrated with Mason when he exhibits less than admirable traits that we share. Ouch.

It’s different with Audrey. Audrey likes her sleep, is okay doing one thing at a time and is much more comfortable if life moves along slowly. What unnerves Audrey is change and the unknown. She can be a pretty anxious kid. School has been hard although we now seem to be settling in a bit. Events like holiday parties, field trips and substitutes are hard and sometimes they make her cry. As her mom, this is really hard to watch. It makes my heart break for her when she worries…and sometimes I get frustrated that because things can be hard she is resistant to try new things. And then I make my next realization. I am like this. I don’t like change or new things. I don’t like going places where I don’t know many people. I don’t like showing up for work and finding out things are different than I expected. I don’t always like meeting new people. I like my comfortable friends and the known. Oh. Ouch.

So, as I ran through the sunshine I was confronted with the realization that I think sometimes I have less patience for my kids than for strangers because they remind me of traits I have that are not always so great. They can be like little mirrors and it isn’t always easy to see. My patients at work? Those are strangers. I won’t have long term relationships with the majority of them. When they are grouchy or unkind, I know that I didn’t contribute to any baggage they may be carrying around. I am in no way responsible for the years of therapy they may need to endure. I can care for them, try to ease their way, and then they move on.

I hope the next time Mason comes out of his room because he can’t sleep or Audrey resists trying a new sport I can stop, take a deep breath, and realize that we are ALL going to be okay. I hope I can find some of that patience that seems to be in abundant supply at work. And, if I don’t? Maybe another run is in order.