Quality of Life

I recently took care of a terminally ill patient and discharged him home the very same day. What was involved in his care was basically to get him to a state where he was strong enough to be transferred out, which required several transfusions of blood products. His prognosis was so that the physicians didn't bother to do a CBC after the transfusion, because "it wouldn't affect his outcome."

I had him only for one day before the he left. He wanted to go home is my understanding and he knew he wasn't going to get better. He had accepted it, he had a long fight already and I respected him for it. I would want to be closer to my loved ones during my last days - not stuck in a hospital, an unfriendly environment with people poking and prodding you just to keep you alive.

The emotional me didn't cry during the day, partially because I was busy with my patients' care. But, as I was doing my discharge teaching and I looked into his eyes to say my last goodbyes before he left, I had to fight back the tears... unsuccessfully.

It didn't help or console me even when my charge nurse said "You were the perfect one to care for him today." All I was thinking was that he was eventually going to pass away. Even today, I think of him and tears roll down my face as I write.

I also think of myself,... and where I would be. Prognosis - not good.

The Right Thing...

Sometimes you just have to let go to set your heart free and let your mind forget ... I guess that process involves a lot of hurt before that happens.

“Don’t cry because it’s over. Smile because it happened.” – Dr. Seuss

Ephemeral Loves

It's often that love poems are written about unrequited or ephemeral loves. Such passion and fervor goes into each word, each line, each stanza, in which its audience's emotional response compounds exponentially until its end.

I had an attraction or infatuation in the past with a certain acquaintance who comes from a country known for poets. He was no stranger to writing, especially with respects to love. When I met him he was pining over a lost love. The effort and words he placed into writing a book of poetry about their romance from its beginning to end captivated me.

But I realize now that it was not the person I had an attraction to, but the concept that someone (a guy no less) can love someone so intensely. As a girl, you would want to think someone sometime in your life would feel this way about you (maybe it's just me). You read of these loves, probably most famous of all is Romeo and Juliet, but until knowing him I never knew of anyone who could. Not even me who loves being in love. But perhaps, after a period of time I and many others have just forgotten how it was at each beginning.

It's the intense attraction and longing in the beginning of the relationship. Especially when the relationship is plagued by a distance or other obstacles are such poems written. But regardless of how anyone may deny it or not, the beginning of a love relationship is, just that, the intense attraction. And regardless of how the relationship ends, you can not deny the initial passion of it.

I don't know if we can call it entirely love, but definitely the mixture of love and lust. The highs only last so long, that's why most of the love poems are written about unrequited or ephemeral loves. If these loves lasted a few more years, or if obstacles never plague the writer, the poems probably would have never been written.

That's just my thought and justification. And my path to freeing myself from such a pathetic fairytale induced notion that loves need to be passionate throughout its course. Recently I saw someone write about how a guy should treat a girl, some of it are complete excrement, but perhaps, the M*** a few years ago would probably have agreed. But, all in all, peace of mind and happiness is all I wish for.

The visitor

She lies in her hospital bed, surrounded by white walls, white sheets and various machines beeping around her. Oblivious of her surroundings, she mostly sleeps the day away. A long scar with 23 staples runs along the right side of her head, a lasting memento of her ischemic stroke and the craniotomy that followed. A feeding tube enters her right nare and leads into her stomach.  She does not respond to voice, never utters a word, and she opens her eyes periodically but stares past you.

Questions run through my mind, "What is she looking at? Who is she waiting for?" But I smile knowing the answer.

It never fails, exactly at 10:00 each day, her visitor comes. You could say her knight in shining armor visiting his sleeping beauty. He stares at her like it was love at first sight. His face softens as he enters the room, his smile and gaze as he looks at her melts even my heart away. He does not see her half bald head, nor her scar, nor her disheveled long white hair that hangs almost as lifeless as she does on the other half of her head. He calls her name as he has done for the past month she's been admitted to the hospital and as he has done his whole life with her. Sixty-five years to be exact.

I feel like a voyeur, but not in the sordid kind of way, as I watch the two interact without them noticing. I got lost in their world for a moment, not noticing until a while later when a wet tear upon my cheek awoken me from the dream I was watching. In that dream, I was her, lying in that bed.

Although she wasn't my patient this day, I walk in to see how she was doing, and also how he was. I greet him with my usual, "Hej, svenska pojke." We talked, it was short and sweet. He was always smiling and even joking.

He tells me "I asked the doctor if her memory will be intact when she recovers, and he tells me it should be since it hadn't affected that part of the brain. I said darn, I was hoping she wouldn't remember the bad times." I give him a soft squeeze on the shoulder and tell him, "Even the bad times are good memories." He nods and smiles, as I leave the room.

I look to my co-worker and say "that's what I wish for." Someone to be by my side even during the most hopeless times, when it may seem I may not come out alive. Someone to wipe my drool, when I'm gushing out a river. Someone to come and play my favorite music, although it may seem I'm deaf to the world. Someone to talk to me, to fill my silent lonely frustrating moments with words of encouragement. To know someone's there in the long haul, who never gives up hope in me.

The clock turns 15:00, a small frown forms around my mouth. It's time for my knight, no ...her knight in shining armor to depart. A screwed up Cinderella story - not the girl, but the guy, not midnight, but 15:00. But still a hope for a happy ending.

He comes up to me, says a small goodbye and thank you. He asks me if I'll be back tomorrow. With a smile, I say "no, but see you on Wednesday". As he leaves, I turn to face her room and whisper reassuringly to her from far away "he'll be back.", although deep within their souls they probably never ever parted.

Ouch!

Yesterday, I got report from the OR for a patient I was to recover. Apparently, prior to surgery someone inserted a Foley catheter and without checking to see if it's in the bladder, blew up the Foley bulb in the urethra at the prostate. OUCH OUCH OUCH OUCH. They noticed that the Foley wasn't draining, so they flushed it with saline water and it returned bloody. At this point, an urologist was called and they discovered that the Foley was at the prostate rather than in the bladder.

First of all, number one rule is to check for urine return after insertion. Second of all, there must have been an incredible amount of resistance when the Foley bulb was inflated. When I got him, the Foley was draining bloody urine and his penis was wrapped in towels with moderate amount of blood. When I left it was still bleeding out from his penis, alongside of the Foley tube.

I was the unfortunate soul that had to explain to him what had happened. His eyes nearly bulged out of his sockets, but I managed to calm him down and take his mind off of some of the ordeal, although he had a constant sharp pain to his groin area that served as a reminder of the event. A pair of urologists finally came some time during the end of my shift to reassure him that "everything will work as it should". I found a little humor in the fact that the first question the patient asked was will it "work" as it should.

But poor guy... a definite "OUCH".

Booger

I was taking care of a liver biopsy patient recently, and his care involved him lying on his right side for four hours. I'm not going to write about his care, but all I can say is that all the time I was caring for him, he looks up at me from the bed while I talk to him.

That very day, I was busy - no lunch, no breaks, no bathroom. I didn't have a chance to look in the mirror more or less. I got home, and washed my face and blew my nose. I discovered I had a dry booger, maybe circumference size 1mm. What immediately went through my mind, "Oh gawd, hope it wasn't there while I was taking care of him"

The patient was smiling at me throughout the whole time. Hopefully that smile wasn't a "laughing" sort of smile :p

Harmless? Let's just hope...

I seem to attract the weirdest people ... and yesterday was no different.

I was my anti-social self yesterday afternoon as I was leaving the hospital. I had my earphones on plugged into my iPhone while reading an article on herpes gladiatorum on my medscape app - my Do Not Disturb look as I called it. The bus ride back home is what I call "my time" after a hard day's work. But a black guy possibly in his late 20's to early 30's was working hard to disturb "my time". Why do I say "working hard"? I guess I just have to tell the story.

I was at the bus stop of the hospital and had just gotten off the phone with someone when I heard a "how's it going?". I knew that question was for me, but I pretended not to hear, as I was in search for my earphones in my bag. The bus came shortly after and as I was boarding the bus, the black guy was staring at me. I quickly looked away and boarded the bus. I took a seat near the back of the bus, and to reinforce my Do Not Disturb look, I put my sunglasses on and let my hair down to cover my face.

Hmm, so far this story is making me sound weird instead of the guy. But wait, wait, it's coming.

As I was busy reading my article on herpes gladiatorum, I felt a tap on my shoulder. That guy proceeded to ask me the time, so rather than talking to him I showed him my watch. Okay... of all the people on the bus, why me? I guess I got to work on the anti-social Do Not Disturb look. There were other people closer to him on the bus, there was someone right across him facing him and I was facing my back to him.

So, I went back to my merry anti-social behavior reading my article, when I realized a few minutes later he sat right next to me. Mistake number one, if you're working on being anti-social, do not leave the seat to the aisle open.... you have to sit in it. I adjusted myself closer to the window.

The guy then asked me about my iPhone. So me, too nice to ignore the dude, proceeded to tell him about my phone. Believe me, I tried my best not to continue any line of conversation, but this guy was on a mission to talk with me, even as I left the earphones on my ears and the music on.

Yeah, yeah, before you criticize me about my anti-social-ness, let me tell you that after a long day of seeing a bunch of patients and hospital staff around me, I really need to be by myself. But I was cordial.

He proceeded to tell me about his bilingual ability or rather his trilingual ability, and that he was applying for a FBI position and a INS position. He started speaking in French and Korean, and I got this weird feeling that he was trying to impress me, especially when he started showing me his resume and giving me his email address and phone number. No, I did not offer mine.

Okay, harmless, so far? Yeah, I guess it seems so.

The conversation carried on, some boring things, but as usual I didn't offer hardly any info about me unless he asked. So, okay, he knows I'm a RN and my name, that's about it. We got to my 2nd bus stop, where I was transferring over to another bus, and I was so relieved that he was transferring to a different bus.

What went on in my head is "YAYAYAYAYAYAYAYAY". I know it sounds a bit cruel, but I really needed to be in my alone zone.

As we were waiting for our second bus, the conversation turned a bit weird. He told me that he was half Korean and that he saw his aunt at the hospital and they started rapping in Korean and Korean was his first language. He asked me if I was Korean and that I looked it, I said "No, I'm pure.... ". People tend to think I am Korean, I guess it's the cheekbones. Koreans start to talk to me in Korean and I'm like "Sorry, no comprendo".

Okay, that part of the conversation is not weird.

What was weird was his response when I said that he looked a little Asian, a little like Tiger Woods, and yes, he did sorta look like Tiger Woods. He responded "Tiger Woods, he's my cousin!" and in my head I'm thinking "uh-huh... yeah right". He started going off about talking to him on the phone and that his cousin asked him what he was going to do about the media going off about him being unfaithful. The guy was yapping about that all the infidelity thing was false and that the media was over exaggerateing the situation and that "Anthony" was never unfaithful to his wife.

(Sound of turntable record screeching backwards)... "Wait, wait... who's Anthony?", the guy replies "oh, that's his first name." Uh-huh, is it? I thought it was Eldrick or something.... No, I didn't correct him. My head was just bobbing up and done down and I uttered "Oh.." I did mistake number 2 by continuing this line of conversation by asking him "So, why would he do a public apology, confessing his infidelity if it wasn't true?" Of course, I didn't really get a straight answer, but I didn't really expect to.

My bus hadn't arrived yet, it was like a long 10 minutes talking with him. The conversation then turned to Michelle Wie and how he knew her and saw her last week in downtown. He also claimed to do video conferences with her, and how she was getting more endorsements from Nike now with the Tiger Woods scandal. He went off about her being raised with a silver spoon in her mouth and she was really spoiled.

Why does he have video conferences with her? Uh-huh... a crazy story is coming. His family owns about 30% of Sony is what he's saying, and that Michelle Wie doesn't want to lose her endorsements with Sony, so they're "negotiating".

So, why would he need to work? If his family owns 30% of Sony? Beats me... and why would he be riding the bus? Beats me.... and why does he have a disability bus pass? Beats me.... Beats me... Beats me... I just wanted to be left alone :p~

Right before my bus came, we seemed to have gotten into conversation about languages and oops, I disclosed that I spoke Japanese. Of course, he started saying that he wanted to learn Japanese... and yeah, he knows Chinese too. Uh-huh. He told me that I could teach him Japanese and he'll teach me Korean. Uh-huh.. and that I should contact him... Uh-huh.

My bus came and he said "call me"... uh-huh. I had a big grin on as I was boarding my bus. It was like escaping the depths of hell and I was relishing the ascent out of it. I sat in my seat, proceeded with my Do Not Disturb look. Right before the bus departed, the guy steps onto the bus and sits right next to me.

I was not smiling, believe me. It was as if when I was finally at the top of my climb, someone comes and pushes me right over. Why did he get on my bus? Well, his reasoning was that he gets off around where both our buses meet in downtown. Uh-huh....

Of course, the whacky conversation didn't end. He claimed he knew Hillary Clinton's sister and that she was a doctor here in Hawaii, and works at a TB clinic. Uh-huh. Did Hillary Clinton have a sister? I thought she only had brothers. How did I know she supposedly worked at a TB clinic? because he took out his wallet to get a schedule card which had her name on it. And this is the time, I saw he had a disability bus pass as well.

Here's where my paranoia gets to me. He's facing me, speaking to me, and periodically spitting on me and periodically touching my hand. You dude, hopefully you don't have TB, and hopefully you're just going to the clinic to get a test done. But you can bet that I washed hard when I got home.

His father is apparently working for the FBI and is one of the bodyguards that protect the president...uh-huh. So, I said, oh so then you have connections and probably could get a job easily. "Yes, how do you think I got the job interview with the FBI?!" ... uh-huh.

He also talked about how he saved someone's life when no one else was helping. This was apparently in Kalihi near the housing where he lived. So, I asked him, you live in Kalihi? He then tells me that he lives in a shelter because he's under witness protection program and lives with Neil Abercrombie's brother and two other known personalities in Hawaii.

He continues to tell me that he was involved in an investigation about...(I have to admit I wasn't really paying attention) well something about limbs, dismemberment, prison guards, and people being fed these parts... and yeah, it wasn't in the news because it's hush hush. And here he is telling me about it and telling whoever else that can hear him talk on the bus. Uh-huh.

He was getting off the bus soon, and he asked me "So, can I get your number?" Quickly I pointed to the resume paper he gave me with his contact number, and he said "So, wait until you contact me?" and I just nodded my head. When he got off the bus, I didn't smile, my mood was just a bit sour. I was a little paranoid too. I looked back frequently to the back of the bus to see if he was there. When I got off the bus, I was more vigilant to my surroundings.

I'm really gullible, but I'm not that gullible to believe all that he was telling me. Was this all to impress me? Telling me that he knows all these languages, famous people, and he was rich, and he helped someone, etc etc? Was he hitting on me? Gawd please no. But, I am one of the densest people on earth when it comes to this.

Regardless, I'm not going to the hospital today... yeah, partly because I don't want to risk a chance of seeing this guy today.... but also, because I'm really tired (which would explain any grammar mistake and typo you came across). I've had a few weird days recently. Hopefully, something pleasant will come my way soon.

But, I hope someone got a kick in reading this.