August, 2005 Archive

“an idea struck me once
’twas so lovely
’twas so fair
’twas so lonely
‘it left a tear”

i’m quoting one of my sisters. she wrote these lines about 20 years ago.

last night, i took care of a 51 year old male who was bleeding. procedures will be done in the morning to find out where the blood is coming from. between 5 to 5:30 in the morning, i got three concerned calls from three different states. his mom, his sister, his girlfriend, everbody wants to know if he is going to be okay. ’twas so lovely.

last night, i took care of an 18 year old who was mentally delayed. while giving her a bath, she asked me about my kids. do i have boys? how old are they? do i have pictures of them? they must be so lucky. she grinned. ’twas so fair.

last night, i took care of a 41 year old female whose yellow skin hurt my eyes. liver cirrhosis is an ugly disease. that she was an alcoholic for more than 20 years is irrelevant. she refused food, fluids, other tests. the woman’s desire was to die. and for her, the saddest part is that she was too sick to do it. ’twas so lonely.

my sister’s right.

with mouth half open, she fell asleep. she forced to fit herself into one of those chairs. an almost inaudible, rhythmic snore occasionally escaped her. undeniable trace of fatigue masked her face. there is no hint of resentment. or regret. not even complaint.

the day has been long. no, the week dragged. no, the month inched ever so slowly. oh…it has been years. 28 years.

her left hand was still on the patient’s arm.

what does it take to have such dedication? such love? such commitment? when does it actually begin? in the fact that she is her daughter? or is she innately loving, it just happened that she was a mother?

what does it take to put someone ahead of oneself all the time? the deepest kind of love. unconditional.

i never dare make a sound. i don’t want to startle her. i promised i will let her rest. as if taking care of a 28 year old daughter with a mental age of 3 wasn’t enough, now her “pumpkin” has some rare kidney disease that is making her too sick to even color her books without gasping for air.

“May, am i in your way, should i get up?”

“no, you’re not on my way, just go back to sleep.”

it was dark, but i saw the light. it made me think.

i was in the presence of greatness. it humbled me.

silence magnified it.

awe. gnawing awe enveloped me.

A: so, did you see my chart?

Me: yes i did. oh, i’m May, i’m your nurse tonight.

A: okay, did the doctors write it there? that i can eat now?

Me: yes they did. you can have clear liquids. only up to midnight.

A: you mean i can’t have jello? or chicken sandwich?

Me: you can have jello, but not chicken sandwich.

A: why? because of my surgery tomorrow?

Me: yes. so what would like to have?

A: give me all that i can have.

Me: juice, soda, broth, jello?

A: yeah, and a chicken sandwich. i’m so hungry. put it on my table; i just need to go to the gift shop to get a phone card.

when the call light went off, i saw A looking a little sleepy, resting after 4 jellos, 2 cans of soda, two cups of chicken broth.

A: can you put lotion on my back. what’s your name again?

Me: May

after putting lotion all over her back, i took off my gloves…

A: oh, do my neck and shoulders too…they are dry. and am i gonna have surgery tomorrow?

Me: yes, most likely in the morning, we’ll find out the exact time later tonight.

A: make sure no information is given away about my surgery okay?

Me: oh, how about visitors, would like visitors to see you after your surgery?

A: no, don’t let the doctors know i’m having surgery, okay? they’re not supposed to know. no one is supposed to know anything.

the bathroom call light went off…

A: can you stay here? i’m having a bowel movement. can you just stand next to me till i’m done?

R: (bless her heart, answered the call because she saw me going to A’s room all the time) are you okay? you’re dizzy?

A: no, i just want you to be here with me till i’m done.

R: just call when you’re done if you need help. i’m claustrophobic.

A: i need you here. what if you need to look at my poop later?

the bathroom call light went off…

Me: do you need help?

A: can you flush it? and can i have some crackers or a sandwich? did you touch anything in the bathroom with your hands? you need to change my sheets then…

the rest of the night is redundant and exasperating. i will spare you the details.

questions:

1. why is this patient here? no bed in behavioral? or am i just too impatient/insensitive/lazy?

2. why can’t i (like all the others) say: “you have hands…use them” when i’m supposed to?

just wondering…