Tag Archives: Nurse Stuff

A Letter To My Nurse In The ER

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You probably don’t remember me, I wouldn’t expect you to.  I was the girl who came into the ER 9 weeks pregnant and spotting.  Everyone had assured me that they were sure that everything was fine with the baby, especially since I had just had a normal ultrasound a few days ago, but I thought the spotting was strange.  We chatted about the hospital that we both work at and you told me that you were a float nurse working in the ER that day…just small talk to fill the empty space during vital signs and assessments.  Nick and I actually spent much more time with the doctor, who also assured us that everything should be ok, but maybe let’s do an ultrasound just to put my mind at ease.  I knew that something was wrong when the ultrasound took forever and the tech never turned the screen for me to see the baby.  The doctor came in our room a few minutes later and told us what I knew in my heart already.  Our baby had died.  There was no fetal heart beat.  He said his condolences and informed us that there was nothing more to be done in the ER, he was sending us home.  You came back into the room and after going through the discharge information with me nodding my head and muttering “I understand” what seemed like a thousand times, you leaned over, looked directly into my eyes and said (quite forcefully) “It’s not your fault.  You need to know that this is NOT your fault.”  I nodded again and after you left the room Nick even made a comment to me about how rough you were.  The thing is, that was exactly what I needed.  And for some reason, it was you who stayed in my head over the next few days and even after.  Practically every person I know told me the exact same thing but for some reason, I believed you.

During the confirmatory ultrasound at my doctor’s office you popped into my head “It’s not your fault”.

As I sat listening to my doctor talk about probable genetic mutations and how often this actually happens, you were there “It’s not your fault”.

Over the course of the next few days, through my D&C and through hours of laying in bed too numb to cry, there you were “It’s not your fault”.

When I went back to work and was literally surrounded by women who were pregnant and due within weeks of my due date, a constant reminder of what I had lost, “It’s not your fault”.

Even after I got pregnant again just two months later.  When I thought that being pregnant again was all I wanted and then feeling the guilt of realizing that I wasn’t ready yet, “It’s not your fault”.

At Christmas when my aunt pulled me aside to give me a hug and whisper words of advise that can only come from a woman who has lost a baby herself.  When, knowing that I was already pregnant again, I had to smile and say that I was okay before quickly slipping into the bathroom to cry.  And then sitting in that bathroom feeling ridiculous for crying over a fetus that was only 9 weeks gestation. There you were again, “It’s not your fault”.

As all of those work girls had their spring babies, “It’s not your fault”.

As I prepared for Lia to be born, “It’s not your fault”.

Even now, as I hold by beautiful, perfect baby in my arms and I breathe in her sweet baby smell, I am overwhelmed with both gratitude and sorrow.  For the baby I hold and for the one who was lost.  The one that made it possible for Lia to be born.  And there you are again.  Once more reminding me that it’s not my fault.

Ballerina Roach

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You know how I hate roaches? No? Well, I do. They’re horrible and are on my list of the top three things which should become extinct (along with alligators and toads). For my whole life they have been out to get me. I am not kidding. I have distinct memories of playing in the living room at my parents house right after we moved in (I was 5) and pulling a dead roach out of the shag carpeting. (I realize that one was dead and could not possibly be out to get me, but still) They have crawled across my arm when I was working at my dad’s shop in Miami. They have tried to attack me in my house. I have even witnessed a flying roach fly down my mom’s shirt (which, I’m not gonna lie, was half terrifying and half hilarious). Usually, when I see them, I run for cover and scream at someone else to go kill it. Once, I was laying in my bed, saw a roach on the opposite wall, and instead of killing it, I pulled the blanket over my head and called Nick (who was in the other room) on my phone to come and get rid of it. I think I have made my point.

So, a couple of weeks ago (it has actually taken that long for me to talk about this) I was at work giving report to the oncoming nurse. Now, let’s remember that it was 7am, I had been at work for 12 hours and I was pretty much delirious with no filter. OK, so we were standing outside the patient’s room when the day shift nurse, let’s call her Betsy, casually said to me “oh, look at that little roach running”. What?! How can you even speak that sentence no nonchalantly?! And, little roach? Oh no, that thing was a freaking monster! And you bet your ass it was running…right toward me! Plus, it was running and barely touching the floor! It’s like the thing was running on pointe. It was freaking ballerina roach in attack mode coming to get me!!! What do I do? Of course I jump around screaming “kill it, Betsy, kill it!!!!” (Which is what every PICU patient and family want to hear at 7am, I’m sure.) I tried to move laterally and what does the roach do? Turn toward me. It can sense my fear. Finally, after 3 stomps (3 stomps!!!) Betsy killed the roach and then kicked it under the counter thing of the nurses station (where, I’m sure it was regenerating and planning it’s next move). Meanwhile, all the other night and day shift nurses are at the nurses station either looking at me like I’m crazy or hysterically laughing at me. I, of course, announce that I’m having palpitations and that I needed to finish giving report on the other side of the unit because I really feel that the roach is going to come back from the dead and attack me again. Seriously.

I know that I live in Florida and that means that there are roaches everywhere. I also realize (in the rational part of my brain) that the roach really can’t hurt me and that my fear would be better placed on even something like a bee or a wasp where there is a small but real potential for harm. But I don’t care. Bees and wasps don’t freak me out. I have no problem killing spiders or any other kind of bug that gets into the house, and I’ll pick up lizards and put them back outside without even squirming. But for some reason, I can’t handle a roach. I think we should kill them all.

(May 25, 2012)

The Bulletin Board

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OK, so they have this bulletin board at work where they talk about the staff.  There’s a little paragraph or two about where the nurse/secretary/PCA grew up, went to school, hobbies, why you like working in Peds, etc.  And then each person has a picture by their little summary thing.  (Well, most people have a picture.  There’s one picture that makes me feel slightly uncomfortable and another one that has a picture of the beach…no person, just the beach.)  This board is right in the middle of a wall between Peds and the PICU so it’s there for everyone (patients, families, everyone) to see.  When asked the “why do you like working in pediatrics?” question, every one’s answer is something like “I love working with kids” or “my coworkers are great and I love the kids” or “little kids are so sweet and innocent” or “any time I can get even a small smile out of a child, it makes my day.”  (yes, I got up just now to make sure that I got that all right)  Anyway, so I was joking around last weekend about how they would never put me up on that wall because they’d be afraid of how I would answer the questions.  For example, if asked why I enjoyed working in pediatrics, I would answer that, given the choice, I’d much rather clean up baby poop than adult poop.  Now, that’s an honest answer.  Well, now wouldn’t you know that on Monday morning, one of the leadership people asked if she could interview me for the board?!?!  First of all, this person works day shift in the out patient area so I have spoken to her a total of about 2 times (including my little ‘interview’).  And I’m about 99% sure that she asked about me (mostly who I was, but also if I was married, had kids, etc) before this so called interview.  I have my sources.  Anyway, she interviewed me at7 in the morning after I had just worked all night (without much sleep the day before) and was exhausted so the filter was way off.  Plus, she asked me all these questions in the middle of the nurses station with both the night shift and oncoming day shift nurses (who I happen to really like) there so I felt the need to make small comments after each of my answers.  For example, when asked where I grew up I answered “Hollywood, Florida” and then proceeded to do a single handed raising of the roof while singing in my ghetto voice “Holly-hood!”  See?  Filter off.  I couldn’t help myself.  It was my musical turrets.  It’s hereditary, right Katie?  I think I did OK with the middle questions about school and stuff.  I told her about how I danced in a company in college and how I teach now.  I talked about competition but I don’t think she really got it.  Then came the question I was waiting for!  She asked me why I enjoyed working in peds and I answered, without hesitation, that given the choice, I’d much rather clean up baby poop than adult poop.  She stared at me.  Courtney and Catherine laughed.  She asked me what I wanted the board to say and I told her to write something about how kids are wonderful and I work with awesome people but right as I was answering, Courtney said “no, she said the poop thing, that’s what you should write!”  Then Courtney (she used to work night shift) said that I was really funny so my interviewer wrote on her paper “funny”.  So, needless to say, I’m pretty excited for the new board to come out.  Oh, and she also asked me to email her a picture of myself and tonight, as I was looking for one, I discovered that there are none.  At least none in the past four or five years where I don’t look like a complete idiot.  Most of the recent pictures of me include Alexa:

 Or, they are of Katie and I acting like a bunch of fools:
 Or, Katie and I trying to be pretty (while wearing other people’s mickey hats…sorry Lauren):
 Or, we take pictures to bring attention to serious issues.  For example, this picture, which clearly demonstrates the many dangers of under aged driving:
 There is the random picture of me posing with objects (not shown is me with flowers (which happen to be a great example of my best friend’s wedding colors), me with random pieces of food and me with various Christmas presents…I like the croquet mallet picture the best):
 And then there is this one, which I still consider to be one of my finest moments and pretty much the best picture ever taken (slight exaggeration):
In conclusion, I have decided that my little personal summary thing is either going to be highly offensive to others or an extreme misrepresentation of me.  It could go either way.  Oh, and also, I need to have her take a picture of me because I don’t think they will approve of my options and I refuse to have a random beach scene as my photo.
(May 7, 2012)