October, 2005 Archive

1. don’t call your wife when i’m taking your blood pressure, and say “honey, you won’t believe my luck, i have a very young, pretty nurse. so don’t worry, i think i’ll enjoy my night, May will take good care of me.”

2. don’t ask: “are you always this nice? you see, me and the wife are not really getting along fine…besides, you’re so pretty…i’m just with her because we have five kids…”

your wife is your wife for a lifetime. i am your nurse for a few nights. be nice to me, but don’t be rude to your wife!

you’re not in the hospital to meet your sexual needs, so don’t give me THAT look…

no need to flatter me; i’m not working to be flattered.

sorry, but these guys make my stomach flip over.

“…please come to the dialysis unit now!”

the message was from the nursing supervisor. it was calm, but obviously shaky. i put the phone down. in seconds, i was there.

it was a two bed, newly opened dialysis unit. there were ten or more people in there. of course there was a code!

i wanted to relieve the one who was ambubagging. i wanted to give the next epi. i was oblivious to the fact that there was no room for me to help. i kept trying to look for a vein to start another IV.

i didn’t even realize i was crying until one of the interns, who happened to be my friend, gave me a box of tissue and led me to a chair. i was shaking and didn’t know how long she was hanging in there when i heard they lost her again.

it must have been 15 minutes. but it felt like forever.

“i’m sorry May, but she’s gone”, the doctor said.

how many times have i said those exact words to a daughter, a son, a spouse, a friend, after an unsuccessful code? to be honest, i can’t remember.

all i remember was that i was at her room about an hour ago, convincing her to go to dialysis so she will feel better.

“i’m so tired, i don’t want to go to dialysis…just let me rest”, her words sounded hollow, like it didn’t come from her, but from some place far away.

a million things were on my mind. what do i do? who should i call first? how am i gonna say it? what happened? was it my fault? i should have listened to her and not let her go to dialysis. but they told me they haven’t started dialysis. which means? well, she might have coded at her room anyway. she’s not old. why?

“May, do you want to step out while we clean her up, or you want some time with your mom?”

i thought it was a stupid question. but i actually didn’t know what to say. i have not imagined cleaning up my own mother’s dead body. never. but i can’t let somebody touch her without me being there. it just didn’t seem right. my mind was empty. at the same time it was overflowing.

i can’t believe it has been four years. time does fly. quickly.

nothing’s the same after that day. i keep hearing her voice. and crying was the only language.

i don’t hear her all the time now. still, it saddens me to think of her being gone.

it is sad, how she never met my kids. how they never met the reason why their mom is what she is now. i smile at the thought of her loving them, and spoiling them, giving them candies till their teeth ache.

it is sad, how she is not here to make me feel welcomed and loved even if i make stupid mistakes.

it is sad, that she is not here to see that i am a better nurse because of her.

a mother’s love is unconditional.

even that, is an understatement.

i miss you, Ma.

i like E.

she has this rare talent of falling asleep on a vertical position (yeah, try that!), while charting in the computer. she occasionally writes funny, which is understandable, because i have caught her many times, sleeping while writing.

well, i could be wrong. it could also be exhaustion. E works six nights a week at two different hospitals. whatever it is, i still say she knows how to use her time wisely.

i like E, not only because i want to have this same valuable talent of multi-tasking, of doing other nursing stuff while sleeping, but also because she takes good care of her patients. she gives them bath when they need it; she doesn’t wait for a miracle to dry her patients’ diaper. she bugs doctors when a patient needs something. she always has this smile when she enters the patient’s room. she gets things done on time. yeah, she may occasionally write wrong stuff on the chart like “Tylenol 650 mg PO PRN for nausea”, but she has never messed up a patient. she works, and she works well. she is one of those nurses i’d pick when i get sick, not only because she calls everyone “honey” but because she is a good nurse.

the last time i worked with E, she got me thinking.

she came out of her patient’s room flushed and sort of catching her breath. i knew from the minute i saw her face that she was upset.

“you know that patient in room 4? she’s really something else. she asked me to give her a HUG! a HUG! at first she offered to give me a hug, and when i sort of ignored it, she asked for a hug. you know how she never cleans her hands? i had to like force her to wash her hands. after she pees, i offer to wash her hands and she would just look at me like i was from another planet! i mean, who knows what kind of germs she has in those hands! i mean she already said thank you and all, that was okay honey, that was plenty”.

“what was so scary about hugging her? she is not on isolation, you have gloves, you have a gown over your scrub…” i asked.

“you mean you think it was okay that she wants a hug? honey, she is not that clean you know. i already did everything for her, wasn’t that enough?

“maybe not” i murmured.

what is it about a hug that freaks some people out? what is it about a hug that would make a whole lot of difference to a sick person?

is it just the germs or it is something else? are there people we find easy to hug, and others who are just unthinkable?

why am i thinking that E was being coldhearted for not giving that patient a hug? as if i actually jumped at the idea of hugging her sincerely.

in caring for the sick, what is “enough” and where do we draw the line?

from room 4, i hear a disturbing, haunting , i-hope-nobody-hears-me kind of respressed sobs.

it was so disturbing i still hear it.