From the Penalty Box

The last three weeks I have been in recovery from my meniscus surgery with orders for limited mobility and movement. Luckily I have been able to work in the front of the ER triaging patients as they walk through the door. I register them and assess their condition and then appropriately place them in a room behind the swinging doors to the ER. 

I love to be constantly on the move at all times, and recovering from knee surgery is anything BUT running around. Confined to my chair in the front of the ER with minimal walking has helped me heal, and is fondly referred to as my "penalty box", as it separates me from full patient care and "playing" with my coworkers.

While not the most exciting part of the ER, I have been able to draw great insight from the last weeks up front and had a little time to take a "time-out" and reflect. I recognize that every day presents an opportunity for growth. Being new to this role in the department it was an opportunity to really learn my strengths and weaknesses, reassess, and try again the next day. There was something to take away each day even if it wasn't taking the most critical patient in the department. 

The second was the value of a first impression. 

When you walk into the doors of the ER you typically don't feel well. You're scared, you're nauseous, your head hurts...etc. You pass through the metal detector and have to be cleared by security to then approach the nurse's desk for assessment and admittance to a room. This can be a scary passage for the patient, and at times an overwhelming position for the nurse when there are no beds available and the waiting room is filling up with multiple patients waiting to be checked in. 

I am the first healthcare provider you meet. You are uneasy and uncomfortable and the least I can do is give you a smile and assurance that I see you, I care, and I am going to help you. It doesn't do you any good if I appear annoyed, angry, or frustrated, or if I don't treat you with respect and kindness. While it can be a high tension position with lots of emotions in the waiting room, it helps you if I remain calm and listen to your concerns. 

Perspective is everything. 

From the eyes of the nurse I want to make sure no one needs immediate life-saving intervention; however, if I had my loved one in the waiting room, I too would be anxious to have them seen first and ensure the nurse didn't forget I was sitting there. Fear not, I see you, but only have so much control over the accessibility of beds and higher acuity patients are seen first. 

You sometimes yell, you sometimes lash out, you can be rude, you may have left the emesis bag behind, you may pace angrily, you may even choose to leave, but I promise I will be kind to you. I promise not to yell at you, I promise to give you a fresh emesis bag, I promise to respect you, and I promise to listen. I will watch you and assess you and intervene when necessary. I will advocate for you and I will get you a room as soon as possible. I will smile and I will remember that no one ever really wants to come to the ER. 

In the front or in the back I promise to remember the last three weeks. I will smile, and make it a point to make sure you are informed, aware, heard, and cared for.

I promise to treat you like I would want to be treated if I walked through those doors. 

In Your Shoes

I am the nurse, you are the patient. That is normal, that is how it is supposed to be every day I walk in to work. This normalcy can sometimes numb me to what it feels like to be on the other side. To feel tied down, needy, a little scared, and out of control. 

This week you were the nurse and I was the patient. First you asked me to exchange my comfortable sweats for a gown, complete with non-skid socks and a fall risk bracelet. I felt vulnerable and uncomfortable. I was a little snippy and recoiled immediately, realizing it was my vulnerability speaking and you were being nothing but nice to me.

Then you had to start an IV and it took three times. This was my fault for being dehydrated and having been NPO since the night before, but I wished you had just poked first at the vein I showed you. I smiled because I've been there and a nurse hates not being able to successfully get that first stick. I felt the vein blow and realized how much it actually hurts. 

You, the doctor, and the anesthesiologist approached me separately and confirmed that I understood the procedure and that all my questions were answered. This was nice. I felt as comfortable as a pre-op patient could and safe knowing my identity and surgery site had been confirmed multiple times. You knew I was cold and automatically draped with with a warm blanket. That also helped me feel better.

We wheeled into the frigid OR and I again felt uncomfortable as the nasal cannula was placed in my nose. The smell and taste of the oxygen made me queasy. I began to talk to the anesthesiologist and begged him not to over-sedate me. How much propofol are you using? I'm really trying not to be an obnoxious patient...they all laughed. All of a sudden the room became blurred and began to spin. 

What did you just give me???!!!

 That was some Fentanyl, he responded. I didn't want that! I hate you I moaned. I had never felt so dizzy. I also was miffed that he had administered the drug without warning me first. At least he had the courtesy to give me Zofran first. Again, feeling vulnerable and completely out of control. Then I was asleep. 

I look back and I think of you, the patient. I forget how scary and vulnerable it can feel to be tin your shoes. I forget to listen when you tell me which vein always works when you come in. I forget to bring you that warm blanket I promised you 20 minutes ago. Do I always explain all medications thoroughly enough before administration? Do I give you the benefit of the doubt when you lash out because you are afraid and don't know how else to respond? 

This week I was put in your shoes and I will take these lessons with me and remember next time what it's like to be you.

Have You Been Affirmed?

There is nothing that feels better than someone coming up to you, looking you in the eye, and sincerely telling you that you did a good job. It is human nature to crave approval from those around us and positive affirmation goes a long way. 

It had been a long, hard day and I was feeling insecure about my abilities and the outcomes of my 12 hour shift. High tension-high stress days can do that. I was ready to clock out and hang up the stethoscope for the night when the charge nurse stopped me to say thanks and proceeded to sincerely affirm my work for the day. It could not have come at a better time. I don't know if she'll ever know how much I needed that on that particular evening.

When was the last time you told someone they did a good job? When was the last time you complemented someone on what they were doing or simply who they are? We live in a culture that constantly beats us down and tells us we should be better, that we should be something other than who we are. 

 What if we practiced affirming each other and building a culture that appreciates who each one of us is as an individual and what we bring to the table? Try it sometime. Make it sincere and meaningful, but don't be afraid to tell someone that you appreciate them or something they did. If it makes your day, imagine how many days you can make by being mindful of the work of those around you.

Work, school, friends, family...whose work do you take for granted? That would be a good place to start.

What's in Your Control?

I never thought this would happen to me. I NEVER thought this would be me. Look at me! I'm a mess. How did this happen?

While they were under the influence of a large amount of alcohol, this patient's words rang so sincere and true through the tears. Have you ever looked around at your life and thought How did I get here? or Why Me? Maybe the circumstances were in your control and maybe they weren't. For this patient, they had passed the point of control and the was rock bottom. 

I can't imagine how you feel and I don't know how you got here, but the reality is that you are here and we are here with you. We are here not to judge, but to help you. The fact is that you're here. No matter how you ended up at this point, we cannot change the past. All we can control is how we respond to the situation and our actions from this point on. 

 Tear-stained eyes nodded back at me with a glimmer of hope as I exited the room. My heart truly broke for this patient. I remember times in my life where I felt completely lost and out of control. 

None of us like to be out of control. My mind then went to the election. I struggled to read Facebook because there was so much anger in the words on the screen. The only control we had was our vote. After that, it was out of our control and we are now called to trust. While we cannot control the outcome, we can control how we respond. Let us respond with optimism, grace, hope, and trust.

Life each day is brighter, sweeter, and meaningful if you can find the light and respond with a smile.

What is Dignity?

"Though his mind betrayed him, they were able to maintain his dignity by giving him jobs each day that kept him busy and gave him purpose"

Dignity. This is a word that is being thrown around so much in light of the upcoming election, and one that is defined quite subjectively. Some believe dignity is giving someone the option to choose death when life gets too painful, and others define dignity as a loving, dedicated response to the situation at hand.

Many might peg Alzheimer's as a disease that takes away your life. That it takes away your purpose, that it makes life not worth living. This patient's life was not devastated by his disease, but rerouted to appreciate what could still be accomplished in his new world each day. While it was not the world you or I see each day, nevertheless it was a world where he woke up and had a job to complete to inspire those who worked around him.

 We don't always understand why things happen, and while none of us definitively know what awaits us on the other side, all we can control is how we treasure the gift of life in its final days.

There is something so beautiful about peace in the final moments of life. The stories about how many people the patient touched, how many years of marriage treasured, how many children left behind... I got a picture of not the patient with Alzheimer's, but the person in the bed loved and cherished who left a positive mark on this world.

Amazing grace how sweet the sound that saved a wretch like me. I once was lost but now am found was blind but now I see.

I sang as a prayer and with passion and hope for those left behind. I sang because in this moment we were honoring the life this patient lived and the dignity of the soul that had departed right in front of us. I sang to maintain the dignity, the honor and respect, of that moment. Sometimes there just aren't words that can be said.


There was no longer a heart beat, color was gone, and the tears streamed. So I sang. And God's presence filled the room as he took his child home. 



There are some patients and some circumstances that leave a mark on your heart. This man demonstrated what it meant to live a dignified life. He was empowered by his family to do simply that: live. May we all strive to inspire those around us by not seeing what we don't have, but making the most of what we do have, through good and bad. 

To everything there is a season, and a time for every purpose under heaven. -Ecclesiastes 3:1

The Last Place I Want to Be...

I wake up each morning and plan to go to the ER for work. This is normal for me. For the hundreds of other people that come through our doors each day, it is the last place they anticipated spending their day, and sometimes I forget this. What I see as a problem with a simple solution is often to the patient a devastating and sometimes life-changing event. 

Traumas had been rolling in and out all day and this was yet another. The patient was stable, but confused, and the CT scan was indicative of bleeding in the brain. I was concerned for the patient's prognosis and unsure of if he would return to baseline metal status after inpatient treatment. When family walks into the room the one thing you want to be able to convey is a message of hope, and sometimes there is not enough certainty to do so. This is hard. 

Is he going to be okay? That is the loaded question that every family member wants to know and I cannot always give the answers. What I can assure them is that the patient is stable and that he or she will be in excellent hands upon admission. This family member tried to communicate with the patient, and became tearful and pale. She sat down and stated I think I'm going to be sick. I grabbed her an emesis bag and sat down next to her rubbing her back. I assured her that right now, he was ok, and further treatment would help us understand more. I gave her permission to go outside and take a walk a take a breath. In that moment and looking at her face, I realized the weight of the situation. Not only was his world turned upside down, but so was hers. A simple outing out turned into a life-altering trip to the ER.

I think so often in emergency medicine, with critical patients, we have trained ourselves to just see the patient and focus on stabilization, treatment, and transfer. It is only when family enters into the room that this bubble is broken to recognize the person in the bed and the implications of the medical condition on the patient and family. There is a safety wall up to prevent personal feelings from clouding perspective during stabilization. I find that after the event I am able to step back and see the big picture. 

Every day I fear that someone I know will roll through the door of my ER. This particular trauma was a good reminder to me to remember what it means to go to the ER...that each and every time I enter a patient's room they hadn't planned it in part of their day. It is important to listen, empathize, and take a moment to put myself in their shoes. If my loved one was in the ER, what would I want to know? What would I want the nurse to do? How can I be a comfort to the family in addition to the patient I am caring for?

I work in the last place someone wants to be in a day, so how can I make that day a little better for all involved?

Half-full or half-empty?

Being a nurse is awesome and I love my job, but it is a trying profession. The beauty of my 12 hour shifts is four days off a week and paid time off that equates to about a month each year. Vacation allows for a fresh perspective, renewed spirit, and prevents burnout week in and out. No matter how much you love something, it’s good to take a step back to remember to appreciate it and remember why you do what you do.

I spent my week off in the beautiful woods of Yosemite National Park, a place that has been my favorite destination since I spent summers there as a child. While I live minutes from the beautiful Colorado Rocky Mountains, there is something about the seclusion of the Yosemite Valley, looking up at the gorgeous carved mountains, that makes my heart happy and content.

In the midst of our biking/hiking/walking adventures, my mom, husband, and I decided to treat ourselves to a hot meal in the rustic dining hall of the park’s Majestic Hotel. This was where we met Paul. Paul was a soft-spoken man late 40s to early 50s who greeted us at our table and took our drink orders.

He moved with deliberation and carried out his duties with a spirit of contentment, of someone who enjoyed what he did. His job was simply to fill drink orders. He was diligent in his work and moved from table to table ensuring that each person’s glass was always full, apologizing when it wasn’t. He was attentive to the point where I feared if I took a sip of water he would feel the need to refill my glass.

He was pleasant and inquired about our home city and plans for our vacation. We learned that he had worked in the National Parks for most of his life, living in the simplicity of the natural beauty of the park. He had no family or former job, but had found his niche in the simple task of serving others.

I couldn’t stop thinking about our interaction with Paul. He was different than most people. He was simple, humble, and kind. There was purpose in every move he made, joy in his step, and kindness and genuine interest in each question he asked. Some might call him stuck in one place, but I saw Paul as a light.

What if each of us lived our lives to make sure that the glasses of everyone around us were full? What if we moved with deliberation and looked beyond ourselves at all times to build up the people around us? I wouldn’t call that stuck, I would call it life-giving and purposeful. In taking time to step back and reflect, Paul reminded me to live with a spirit that is life-giving and to keep my perspective and glass full.

How We Communicate

I am teaching students again and loving every second of it. There is something about seeing the spark in one's eyes when the pieces are connected and watch the growth of a student over time. One of them this week asked me, "What is it like when you have a difficult situation? When you go home does your husband understand?"

This was a great question and I reflected back on some of the emotional moments I carried over the last few months. He always listens and is always there for me to vent about my day or ponder questions of life. He wants to understand but cannot always understand what exactly happened because he is not in healthcare, in the same way I can read his papers about geology and engineering and correct punctuation, but the concepts are way over my head to assess the accuracy of the paper. This is not a fault on either part, it is just an aspect of our occupations that are better understood by those in our field. A group of geologists stayed at our house this week and Caleb was so excited. "They understand me!" he exclaimed. This was no blow to me, but simply the fact that they speak the same language (geology).

I am fortunate that my best friend is a nurse. She gets things on a different level and is a sounding board when things get rough. I can express my feelings, concerns, frustrations, and she speaks nurse. My husband refers to it as "nurse talk" which is inevitable any time we are together.

Nurse talk expands beyond the aftermath of a day into the clinical setting itself. Nurses communicate by action and the way they communicate with their patients. I observed the care of a few ICU nurses recently that touched me. In the ICU nurses are very used to talking to their patients at all times, intubated or not. In observing one nurse care for a patient, she effortlessly spoke to the intubated, sedated patient dictating her care. It struck me as I had forgotten to speak to this patient in the midst of the tubes and lines I was managing. I then watched the husband take her hand and speak to her as if she were alert.

They can hear. They may not be totally aware of surroundings, but they say they can still hear your voice. It was a reminder to slow down in my day and remember to see each and every patient as a person every time.

Did I Forget You?

Start the morning with one patient who has been waiting for a bed several hours and is still heavily intoxicated.

Vitals are stable, patient is sleeping: Respiratory Rate even and unlabored, no s/s withdrawal or agitation at this time. 

An hour passes and now there are two more patients. I run around ensuring labs are sent, urine is collected, patients are assessed and comfortable. I run in to hang the bag of fluids ordered on patient #1.
Still sleeping, RR even and unlabored, but awakens upon entering. Speech slurred and mumbled but asks for a blanket. Warm blanket provided and patient back to sleep. Still waiting for a room.

One patient discharged and another in by ambulance. Patient one now has their call light on.

Pt requesting food. Gatorade and sandwich provided. Still waiting for bed assignment. Fluids running, vitals stable. 

Now I have four patients and one pulls at my heart. I am slightly more attentive than normal and tend to assess their pain more than the average patient. They make me laugh and I connect with them. I am extra attentive to their needs. I'm attentive to all my patients, right?

Patient is more agitated and tremulous, Ativan administered per withdrawal protocol. 

Five patients now and I'm getting in my steps for the day up and down the hall. Meds passed, splints applied, vitals checked...My "favorite" patient at the time was up for discharge. I wheeled them out the door proud of the care delivered and holding a connection made in my heart. I pass off report for a lunch break...

Did I forget you? You were sleeping and stable last I checked...you got a floor bed while I was at lunch and had wet the bed, sheets were astray, and you were confused and unkept.

Did I forget you? Your socks were filthy, blankets were on the floor, your gown wasn't on anymore.

Did I forget you? Did I neglect to pay attention to the details because you were asleep and drunk? Did I give you the time I gave to each and every other patient? Did I give you time like I gave to the patient that won my heart? Would I have offered to change your dirty socks and spent more time chatting with you if you were someone else?  

When I learned of the events my heart broke inside. I had been so proud of my care for my patients and yet one had fallen through the cracks. I like to think I care for each patient the same way no matter who they are, but forgetting you this time makes me more conscious of my priorities and actions.

I'm sorry I overlooked you that day. I hope you are healing well and I thank you for reminding me what it means to treat each person as I would want to be treated or would treat a family member.

Next time I promise you will not be forgotten.

I Need You

A nurse cares and desires at the deepest level for his or her patient to feel that sincere intention and, as a result, feel better as a result of all their effort. Nursing is hard. More often than not a nurse hears complaints about what hasn’t been done as opposed to what he or she worked so hard to accomplish on behalf of the patient.

The last few weeks have been busy. Busy is the nature of the ED, but busy with extremely high acuity that places any patient not intubated and/or on a presser or sedative a bit lower on the totem pole. Not on purpose, but by the very nature of prioritization of care. It is these days that can be the most trying. I run from patient to patient and delegate out tasks when I can’t be in two places at once, and then realize that the patient who has been in my care for the last three hours hasn’t seen me in two hours, because my coworkers have been helping me out while I was stuck in my ICU patient’s room. While this is the beauty of teamwork, there is a piece of me that sometimes feels as though I’ve failed that patient by not being present for their every need. Do they think I don’t like them? Do they feel neglected?

I return to check in, always apologizing for the time delay, and take a seat as I explain the latest updates and plan of care. The patient usually understands as they can hear the ambulances rolling in and have watched the nurses rush past the room back and forth for the last several hours.

In the midst of one of these days I cared for a sweet elderly woman who was mostly French speaking, though she spoke enough English to communicate her needs. She had a history of brain injury which resulted in some short-term memory loss. She was so patient and humbly accepted care for all her needs. When she first rolled in I smiled and spoke to her like I speak to all my patients. A patient who doesn’t speak your language still understands the language of your touch, tone, and feeling in your eyes. I gained her trust with a smile and she felt my sincere desire to meet her needs.

This patient was on her call light multiple times an hour, and it was one of those days where my coworkers graciously jumped in to help answer her light while I was in with other patients. Although each time another nurse walked in she asked where I was and wanted me. Upon hearing the news I was touched that she trusted me with her care, but a little frustrated since I was unable to be in her room as much as she called.

Upon entering her room I remembered that she could read my emotions more than my words. I took a breath and smiled. “What do you need?” I asked.

“You,” she stated.

“What can I do for you, sweetheart?” I leaned down to look her in the eyes.

“You. Right here,” she gestured to the chair next to her bed. “Sit here.”

I realized what she was asking. She wanted company, someone to sit there with her while she waited...

I took her hand and explained in the simplest terms that I had to care for other patients too and was not able to sit there.

“Oh. I will wait,” she said her face slightly falling.

It broke my heart not to be able to give her what she felt she needed in that moment. She just needed someone’s presence. I gave her all the time I could, made sure she was comfortable, and then smiled, assuring her I would be back to check on her.

As nurses we like to be superheroes and meet everyone’s needs at all times, and I struggle when I feel I have fallen short and not met everyone's expectations. It is not always possible and at the end of the day as long as I have given my best in every care and taken care to make my interactions intentional with my patients, I have to feel ok hanging up my scrubs for the day and recognizing that I am not superwoman. 

My best is all I can give in a day. Tomorrow will be a new day with new patients and experiences, and I need to arrive, once again, ready to give it all I’ve got...whatever my 100% is for that day.

On My Team

I walked through the door two and a half hours later than usual to my husband's smiling face. That smile fell as he saw the sadness in my eyes followed by the stream of tears. "What is wrong??" He asked with great concern. I shook my head. As much as I wanted him to understand the sadness and brokenness of my heart at that moment, it wasn't something I could explain."My patient died."

This is the reality of healthcare. On a day to day basis we are faced with situations involving life and death, some easier than others. This was the first time I had come home and felt so affected by the events of the day. My patient was sick. He rolled in with lab values not compatible with life and in need of emergent filtering of his blood. But he talked to me for the whole 4 hours I cared for him. He was alert, oriented, kind, and very sick. I administered meds and drew labs as ordered and called report to the ICU for transfer. Night shift arrived and the plan was to wheel him upstairs before I went home.

The staff assist button rang out. I ran into the room with many staff members to find the patient seizing and moments later in cardiac arrest. My incredible team went to work initiating chest compressions, passing meds per protocol, and working with the docs to assess what could reverse possible causes. It was straight to business. His heart wasn't working and we needed to intervene immediately. 15 minutes passed and it was my turn to do compressions. As I leaned over his chest I pumped to the beat of Stayin' Alive. I looked down at this man I had cared for over the past 4 hours and something clicked. I was no longer "doing compressions on a body", I was pumping my sweet patient's heart with every ounce of energy to keep his blood moving and give him the best chance of survival. It was suddenly very personal. I began to pray as I compressed, giving every ounce of life I could into my hands. 

After exhausting all options he was pronounced dead, and my heart sank. One hour ago this man was talking to me...

I tried to hold it together. This happens all the time. This shouldn't affect me. There's still work that needs to be done.  Tears brimming, I pulled it together to help with the paperwork. My heart was broken and aching for the family and the circumstances, while another part of my heart knew he was in a better place. 

Sitting at the computer on hold with the coroner I felt arms around my back in a hug and the scent of cigarette smoke. I turned to face a woman with electric blue hair and a patient visitor sticker on her chest. She spoke softly, "I just needed to give you a hug. You do such a great job and I hope that one day you're on my team".  She smiled, embraced me, and walked back to the room across the hall from my patient....She had seen the whole thing. 

I turned back to my computer and lost all emotion I had been holding in. The tears flowed and my sobs were evident to my coworker next to me. That woman, who I didn't know, had been God's voice saying, it's ok to feel. You can't always be in control. Control was the furthest thing I had at that moment. 

"I hope you're on my team"...I mused over the words. What a powerful statement. I had done everything in my power for that patient, as had my team. I had never felt so supported in such a situation and was so grateful for my teammates who were present. That woman recognized that we put heart and soul into our work and reminded me that sometimes an outcome is beyond my control.


I pray that this dear patient rests in peace. I also pray that each day I wake up with a renewed spirit to perform my work. Days like this are tough and can break a nurse down. I cried a lot that night, and that was what I needed. Then I woke up the next day and walked in to work knowing I could face similar cases. However, I walked in with a smile on my face. Each coworker, each patient, each family member I was going to encounter was on my team.  As a team sometimes you win and sometimes you lose, but you walk away with your head high if you've given your heart and 100% and recognized that you have only so much you can control.  

Being on God's team means recognizing that He has a plan. It means being His hands and feet, but at the end of the day remembering that He is in control.

Are you on autopilot?

Wake up, work, eat, sleep, and repeat. 

So often I find myself in autopilot day in and day out. After too many days in a row I almost feel numb to what I'm doing. Even on my days off it's just checking off my list what didn't get done during the days I was working. Sometimes I catch myself in this cycle of what I like to call being on autopilot. 

The problem with this mode is that is loses all variety and feeling. I forget why I'm doing what I'm doing and tasks become monotonous and the passion and drive is lost. 

Wake up, breathe, work, breathe, eat, breathe, sleep and repeat

Other times I find myself in this routine of tasks, but I take time to appreciate each task and its purpose in my life at that time. I have to cook dinner changes to I get to prepare a nice meal that will allow time for my husband and I to sit and talk for a period of time. When I take a moment to reflect on the meaning behind my actions life becomes less mundane and pressured, and more real and meaningful. When it's hard to find meaning in something like taking out the trash, at least I've taken a moment to acknowledge that it needs to be done and can appreciate the weather as I trek to the garbage bin. 

Wake up, pray, work, pray, eat, pray, sleep and repeat

 After I've acknowledged that I need to breathe throughout that day, I take it a step further to let that breath become a prayer. In taking time to acknowledge God's presence throughout even the mundane tasks of life, I am able to practice a spirit of gratitude. Gratitude grows to joy, which in addition to making my heart happy, touches those around me on a day to day basis. 

So now I've taken a typical Monday morning and transformed my daily tasks as I appreciate the capabilities I have to get these jobs done, acknowledge the people around me, and recognize God's presence in my day. It's amazing how this spirit of thankfulness can help you remember why you do what you do, or how you can make the best of where you are right now. 

Take yourself off autopilot, and let God drive your day.

Blessed by a Patient

A huge part of my nursing philosophy is to be the hands and feet of Christ is my daily work. This does not mean evangelizing my patients, but actively working every day to find the good in those I interact with, assume the best, and care for the whole person. My Jesuit college education spoke of cura personalis, Latin for care of the person. As defined on the Regis University website, it is "dedication to promoting human dignity and care for the mind, body and spirit of the person".
In the midst of a busy day and multiple patients all needing important things it is very easy to become task focused as opposed to person focused. I sometimes have to stop and remind myself that  my sweet man with dementia who doesn't remember the last time I was in his room still deserves the same respect and intentional time as my alert and oriented patient who counts the minutes between each encounter. 

As I begin each day my goal is to bring joy to my patients through my work. They don't deserve to feel the stress and multiple things on my mind. They may need to understand my time is limited in the emergency setting, but they need to feel the genuine sincerity and care in each encounter to feel safe and cared for int their time of need. Another sweet gentleman asked if I could stay and rub his back. My typical nurse reaction of annoyance was trumped by sympathy for him from the sincere look in his eyes and pain and frustration he was feeling. He wasn't asking because he was needy, but because he was scared and lonely. I had to kindly break the news that this was not possible with the patient acuity we had and how I wished he was my only patient in that moment so I could help him feel better. 

That broke my heart. I wanted so bad to give the best  care to each of my patients. He felt lonely, another left against medical advice because he waited so long due to a mass influx of critical patients, and then a patient passed away after every attempt to restore life. Whether I wanted to recognize it or not, at the end of the day I was emotionally and physically exhausted. 

Day three began pretty mellow and I encountered a young woman with onset of symptoms that warranted admission. She was kind and I gave her the same care I give all my patients. I entered her room to pass on the good news that she finally had a bed ready. We had made friendly small talk but nothing deep up to that point. She looked up at me and stated confidently, "I need to pray for you". 

I was taken aback and elated. "I would love that!" I exclaimed. I was totally surprised being that faith had never crossed our conversation. She took my hands and began to pray out loud. I was on the verge of tears feeling so touched. She prayed a heartfelt prayer asking God to bless me in my work as I had touched her. She thanked Him for the care she received today and prayed that I might be touched by others in the way that I touch each and every one of my patients. My heart melted as I took her hands and prayed for her healing. I gave her a hug and she was rolled out of the department.

Little did she know that she was God's voice to me that day. After three long 12 hour shifts and trying so hard to help each person and not feeling totally successful, God reached down through this patient and said take a breath, you're doing just fine. Keep your heart up and know that I am here. 

It is these moments I hold on to. These moments I remember why I do what I do and fuels me to keep going. When things get tough I remember her words, take a breath, and continue to smile. God shines through joy, and sometimes joy can break the fear and uncertainty that is present when one walks through the doors of the ER.

Give the Best to get the Best

I got a Groupon to get my nails done, not realizing it was a solid 30min drive from my house. Oh well, it was a good deal and a once in a while thing. I planned ahead to be sure I would arrive on time and respect her time. Right before leaving she sent me a text "Running behind...". This was an hour before my appointment and I figured maybe she had the wrong number. Sure enough I show up on time to sit and wait for 20 minutes past the scheduled appointment. Is it because I have a Groupon? Who else is more important that she probably "squeezed in" at the last minute??

I was tired, traffic time was ticking closer, and I was annoyed. I had scheduled the rest of my day based on being in and out of there. Recognizing my impatience I took a deep breath to breathe out my frustration. Life happens. Yes, this had happened the time before as well, but I needed to give her the benefit of the doubt. 

She came to greet me calmly, peppy, and with a huge smile. My frustration was immediately shaken by her warm welcome. It's not like she did it on purpose. We chatted through the appointment and she did an excellent and quick job to where I was out of there before I had expected, even with the late start. 

As I walked out I shook my head at how silly and unnecessary my irritation was when I was struck by a thought: Is that how my patients feel sometimes? The thought made me laugh at how silly my emotions were.

On busy days I run around trying to give equal time and attention to all my patients, but when a trauma or stroke rolls through the door I drop everything for sometimes over an hour if I have to stabilize that patient. How do my other patients feel? Sometimes annoyed, some think "who is more important than me?", others frustrated and wanting an explanation....all the same feelings I felt today....

And yet, when I walk in their door with a smile, pep in my step, and an enthusiasm to return to their care after a delay, it tends to help break the irritation. A quick apology and brief explanation is usually welcomed when it is sincere. Then care is updated, completed, and the patient walks out the door or is rolled upstairs to continue the rest of their day. 

Sometimes I can't help what rolls in or what life brings, and at work I always like to think people will give me the benefit of the doubt. What a concept. Note to self to practice carrying this same spirit to give to others on a day to day basis.

From Can't to Can

I sat down with a group of nursing students to debrief a long couple of days working on the floor. I wanted to take a step back and look at nursing care from a new perspective. Today's meeting was not to necessarily given information, but allow them to reflect on their practice. 

So you've got the whole "care for your patients physical needs down", so how do you care for them emotionally, mentally, and spiritually?  I asked

One girl looked up briskly with a fire in her eyes and stated, "It's impossible. I just can't!" She was visibly upset by the question, and initially my thoughts went to rephrasing the question since it must have been misunderstood. Of course everyone can care for the whole person, I thought. Then she began to explain how difficult it was to care for patients who didn't want to be helped and how she felt unqualified to give advice or to know what to say to these people. It broke her heart that in a profession she was so passionate about, she was not feeling successful in truly helping her patients. 

How often as healthcare providers do we feel this way? How often are patients brought through the doors only to refuse the help we offer or accuse us of neglecting their needs when the plan of care isn't exactly as they dictate it? 

As a student she was frustrated by the lack of response and enthusiasm she received from her patients when she put her whole soul into educating and empowering them to own their health. 

I validated her feelings and affirmed her frustration. The reality is that you cannot help people who don't want to be helped. So then, let's look at what we can do. We can genuinely care. We can find a way to relate to these people, hear where they've come from, what they love, and what motivates them to live each day. Maybe it's seeing a picture of their pet at home or asking about family or hobbies. We can find one way to genuinely connect to these people and relate to them. 

Patients want to  be treated not as patients, but as people. We have to learn to bridge that to be one in the same. 

If you walk in to a room to educate a patient at discharge after connecting with, listening to, and relating to this person for two days, the chances of them hearing what you're saying is far greater than the patient you haven't taken the time to understand. People listen to those whom they feel genuinely care.

   I listed to a CHF patient talk about his love of cooking and later incorporated that into educational teaching about diet modification. The patient was able to look at how he could be creative with recipes as opposed to feeling like his passion and love of cooking was being taken away from him. 

When it feels like "I can't", it's time to take a step back, take a breath, and simply focus on what "I can". You won't always get through, but if you stop and take the short time to have to sit, actively engage, and listen to a person, you know you gave all that you could. Sometimes, that is all you can do.

What Lights You on Fire?

I was sitting in a conference today struggling to keep my focus as the "food coma" started to set in after lunch. I was losing track of nursing history when the conversation took a turn as the question was posed:

How do you define nursing?

It took me a minute. The speaker continued to talk about the art of nursing and the beautiful profession that it is.

How many of us recognize the value in nursing, in what we do every day?

What a powerful question. To me nursing is the ability to meet people where they are each and every day and provide care for not just the physical, but also the emotional, and spiritual aspects of the person. "Cura Personalis" as the Jesuits would say...

This conversation lit a fire in my heart. I absolutely love what I do and feel blessed to be able to say that. I enjoy going to work each day, love the people I work with, and feel privileged to have the knowledge base to practice in the world of healthcare, but it's really easy to lose sight of the purpose that connects me back to this.

How often do you roll out of bed to the mundane tasks of the day? Maybe behind a desk, a paper that needs to be written, a presentation given, proposal created, work published, food served, meeting attended, one more patient to see...

How many of us chug a few cups of coffee each morning to "get through" what we have to do to pay the bills and just survive until Friday (or if you're a nurse, your next string of days off)?

What lights a fire under your butt? Seriously?! What gets you excited to get out of bed? What makes your heart happy? What makes you smile? What do you live for?

Use this each and every day to reconnect to your purpose. Each one of us has special gifts that are utilized in different ways. How can you use your gifts each day to motivate you through the hard times and focus your energy on positive, life-giving things?

I pray each morning that God uses my hands and feet to do His work. This reminds me why I do what I do.

Write yourself a sticky note on your mirror, put it on your coffee cup, or set a reminder in your phone to remind you that you are amazing, wonderful, and can make a difference in a small way each day by showing up and being present. Every day you have something to offer. Don't let a day pass you by without giving it your all in whatever it may be that you do. Make each day, moment, and interaction purposeful and see how it changes the way you see the day. Reconnect to why you do what you do.

Make your ordinary extraordinary.

Let it Go

It was a busy day in the ER and I glanced at my computer before entering the new patient's room to see what was coming my way. Doc had already ordered labs which meant sticking the kiddo and starting an IV. This task, while a basic nursing skill, was always emotional with kids. Deciding I would be prepared, I grabbed the numbing shot from the fridge to help make the experience a little less traumatic for the patient. 

I entered the room where patient and family were watching cartoons and the kiddo seemed calm enough. Her eyes met mine and looked my scrubs up and down until they came to rest on the medication in my hand. Her eyes widened and she began to hyperventilate and her volume escalated: "Oh my gosh what is that? You're going to poke me oh mY GOSH YOU'RE GOING TO POKE ME!!" The tears began as she tried to get off the bed and to mom. 

"Hold on there, hun, this is not a needle". I revealed to her the object in my hand as I sat on the stool beside her. "And we haven't even met yet!" I exclaimed with a smile, trying to earn her trust. She lowered her voice and came back to the center of the bed. "Tell me why you're here". 

The young girl voiced her complaint of belly pain and I chatted her up as I assessed her condition. I looked her square in the eyes and began to explain why we needed to draw blood and start an IV. Her eyes widened again and she demonstrated extreme anxiety for a kid her age with writhing, hyperventilation, and escalation of worries not typical for her age. She was a "drama queen" as her mother put it, laughing.

"Deeeeeep breath," I encouraged her. I worked with her on breathing as I explained the process. She voiced that the needle was what scared her most but then insisted on seeing it and wanted to watch; both of which started the panic cycle all over again. At each step she freaked out a little more. I looked to mom and we began to brainstorm distraction techniques. Mom's eyes lit up as she exclaimed: "I know! While the nurse pokes you, we'll sing Let it Go!" Brilliant! She, as any other mother in this day with a daughter between the ages of 5 and 11 knew the ultimate calming mechanism. She got the patient to agree. I applied the numbing medication which gave a loud whoosh  noise as it was administered. After a few breaths from the tears from that, we began to sing. Mom, patient, tech, and myself included were in full blown song of Disney's famous Let it Go. Sure enough, the patient calmed and blood was successfully drawn. 

While comical at the time, I walked out of the room reflecting on anxiety as a whole. Patients come to the ER in times of trial and they, along with family are wrought with anxiety of different levels. "Letting it go" is a lot easier said than done.

How often do we carry the anxieties of our lives with us?

When the anxieties of life surround and overwhelm me I take a deep breath and step back. How much control do I have in this moment? For what I can't control I pray that God takes away the anxiety to allow me to focus on what I can change. Worrying doesn't make it better, just more stressful. So when work is crazy and I'm frustrated, anxious, and tired, a little bird comes to the back of my head and begins to sing to let it go....

and I stop, pray, let go, and let God.

I'm Here to Care

When you work in the Emergency Department you see all walks of life. All classes, races, and ages. You see the broken and those who seem to have it all together. You see the athlete, the child, the working man/woman, the provider, the caregiver, the lonely, the abused, the addicted....

It can be easy to become jaded and write people off when you see the same patient for the same reason for the 3rd time that month because they chose not to care for themselves or couldn't care for themselves at home. Or when the demanding patient barks orders at you without the slightest thought of "please" or "thank you". Or the drunk patient who you've advocated for all night only to have them take a swing at you and spit at you.

Those are the hard days. Those are the days that many go home and wonder "why do I go back?" "why do I put up with that treatment?" But to let these experiences overwhelm  your day is to ruin your spirit, your passion, and your heart as to why you did this in the first place. We do it because we love. We want to give back, we want to help people. You have to count the wins in a day, even if it was just one. When you see the glass half full, the day is better and you are able to let go of the encounters that start to beat you down. 

There was  patient who nearly brought me to tears. He was psychotic and extremely emotional. I gave him every ounce of patience, time, and attention to help calm him down and ease his paranoia. I felt I gave him great care, and he about broke my spirit because nothing was going to satisfy him. I was exhausted and feared coming back to care for him again. Yet that voice in the back of my head said he deserves the same care as everyone else. He is not in his right mind. Meet him where he is. Take a deep breath, smile, and know that you can only help those who want help. 

Last week I oversaw a student starting an IV for the first time. She palpated for a vein and made small talk with the patient. Feeling over one in the crook of the elbow she looked to me for confirmation on her vein of choice. It was a bit scarred. The patient nodded, "It's a good one if you go right above the scar. I used to be an IV drug user".

His honesty was much appreciated. Often you approach a stick a little differently knowing the veins of IV drug users are either few and far between and/or much harder and require more force to hit.

"Thanks for the heads up!" I told him. I explained to the student how this was helpful information in starting his IV. We continued as we had before and the significant other looked up at us with relief. 

"You know, she said. You guys are so great. The last hospital we went to, the second he said that the nurse totally gave him the cold shoulder and was stand-offish the rest of the time".

This took me back. Wow. I turned to her and said gently "We're not here to judge. We appreciate the honesty and just want to see him get better".

It was a beautiful moment that reinforced to me the importance of just caring. We are called to "love our neighbor as ourselves" and "treat others as we would want to be treated". I go to work to serve others and to care, to be the hands and feet of Christ in my work. There will be days that are hard, days that make me cry, and days where I wonder why I am in the profession I am, but I go back to moments like this and remember that I won't always be able to fix it all, but I can give nonjudgmental care and respect to each person that walks through that door. Sometimes that's all you can do, and sometimes that's all they need.

Raise 'Em Up...to God

Running around the lake on a beautiful, sunny Denver day while listening to my ipod I couldn't hellp but observe all the people I passed. Such a variety...There was the young man lying in his hammock taking a nap, the fishermen, the couple holding hands out for a walk, the young girl running, the dog walkers, the group of women chatting while simultaneously pushing their strollers with sleeping babies...so many smiles, so many different walks of life, and all out enjoying the beautiful day God provided. 

Keith Urban's song "Raise 'Em Up" came next on my playlist and I smiled. It's just one of those feel-good, down to earth songs. 

Raise 'em up, I'm talking 'bout lighter on Saturday night

the band plays a song you like and you sing along...

The song celebrates the good times, the sad times, and all those times you celebrate in life. How often do we take those life experiences for granted? Even soaking in the sun and out on my run that day, the song made me stop and thank God for all he gives. 

All the time we toast and celebrate success, job promotions, graduations, sports success, academics, etc., but how often do we toast to life? How often do we lift our hands up to God to toast to Him and all He gives us every day. 

Everyone likes a celebration. Why not find a reason to celebrate today?

Raise em' up
Trophy high
Raise em' up
To the sky
Raise em' up
Show everybody that new born smile
Raise em' up
Tall and strong
Raise em' up
Right from wrong
Raise em' up so dang high they can hear God singing along...

God at Work

Did you know at 13 weeks a fetus has a head, eyelids, fingers, toes, fingernails and fingerprints? It has a beating, developing heart, a bladder that begins to function, and arms and legs. It has a torso, ears, and is a very small child, typically about 6.7cm long. You read these things online and in the text books, but it is hard to conceptualize the thought of a human being this small at this stage...

When the young woman came in at 13 weeks pregnant with a large amount of vaginal bleeding we anticipated a miscarriage. She and her husband requested not to go to the OR until products of conceptions were seen. "Products of Conception" is the medical term that refers to pieces of the placenta or fetus that are retained during a miscarriage. Our concern was the amount of blood being lost. A miscarriage has the potential to turn into a life-threatening situation if the mother becomes hemodynamically unstable. Since she was stable, we agreed to watch her longer.

I made sure the sweet young woman was comfortable and went about checking in on my other patients. My heart ached for this young patient. I have not yet had children, nor do I see it in my near future, but I could not imagine what it would be like to carry a child inside you and then lose it to natural causes. There was such love between the patient and her husband. There was sadness in their eyes, but words and actions of care, commitment, and unconditional love. Through good and bad. 

I noticed a priest in his white collar and black shirt and pants enter the room and exit with the husband. I reentered the room to check on the patient and assess the blood loss. I asked about the priest who they explained was a friend of theirs from their Catholic church. How special that in the wee hours of the morning their priest was willing to rush down to be with them for a few minutes and offer prayer and support during this difficult time. 

Discussing their priest and parish I connected with them identifying myself as Catholic. Not working my normal shift that evening and issues of life being so central in the faith, I felt like God had been at work in placing me with this family on this night. I understood why she did not want to go to the OR yet, wanting to ensure the baby had every chance, respecting the life of that 13 week old inside her. 

Out at the nursing station I sorted through all the paperwork for a miscarriage.  Options for burial, the need to send the fetus and placenta to the lab to ensure nothing was retained, and the large, clear bucket that was sent from lab to obtain any products of conceptions. The bucket made me uncomfortable. It felt so strange to think about placing pieces to send to the lab. I understood the importance of making sure no products were retained (which could cause severe hemorrhage and endanger the mother), but it just felt so inhumane. I put the bucket to the side deciding I would cross that bridge if anything was delivered before she went upstairs. The papers broke my heart. I had never dealt with a miscarriage before and was unsure how to approach the paperwork with this couple. It was all still so fresh and in progress...

I cycled her pressure which was still stable but continuing to drop. I decided to implement standing orders for fluid, even though she was about to be taken to the floor for an overnight stay and trip to the OR. I explained this to her and grabbed the fluids. Back in the room and hanging the bag the patient had a large contraction where she exclaimed "something came out". I looked down from where I was to see the 13 week old fetus attached to the umbilical cord, stillborn. 

My heart felt like it froze for a moment and I took a breath to be the best support I could for the mother and father. I was in shock. I had seen healthy, full-term babies delivered in nursing school, but never a stillborn and never this young. I hadn't expected to see a human-looking child. I thought "products of conception" would be pieces of tissue, undefined. But there was a beautiful, tiny baby. Not old enough to distinguish gender it fit in half of my hand with tiny fingers and toes, this beautiful creation of God.

"You just delivered the baby", I said softy. Would you like to hold it? She nodded, tears slowly leaking down her face, knowing the baby was not alive. The father immediately came to the side of the bed, placed his thumb on the baby's forehead and making the sign of the cross prayed, "I anoint you in the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit". I held back my tears at this beautiful display of faith as I left just long enough to grab the OB kit and the provider. 

After the clamping and cutting of the cord I handed the baby to mom. She looked lovingly on her child that was no longer here, but with God. I sat down by her bedside and assured her she could have all the time she needed. Knowing her faith was important and so crucial at this time I then asked if I could pray with her. Her eyes widened as she took my hand and said, "yes, please". I prayed out loud with the two of them as she squeezed my hand and held her baby in the other. I ended with the "Our Father" as the two of them joined in with voices strong and full of conviction". I left them to mourn together while I stepped outside with a coworker to cry  in private, my heart breaking for them and overwhelmed by the experience.

It was so sad, but so powerful. God was so present in the room that night, and it was so beautiful to see these people draw strength and comfort from Him in their time of need. As their sister in Christ it was an honor to care for them this night, and to be able to recognize her physical, emotional, and spiritual needs. I would not normally ask to pray with a patient, but knowing her religious background and seeing the husband rush to anoint the child upon birth, there was a tug at my heart to join with them and together bring God to the front. We are called to bring Christ to each other. 

2 Corinthians 1:3-4: “Blessed be the God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ, the Father of mercies and God of all comfort, who comforts us in all our tribulation, that we may be able to comfort those who are in any trouble, with the comfort with which we ourselves are comforted by God.”

Give Life

I have the pleasure of being able to teach nursing students throughout the year, during which I don't think the students realize how much they teach me throughout the course of 5 weeks. One day during this rotation the students experienced the unexpected death of a patient. They stood against the wall of the room watching the nurses, eyes wide, and some filled with tears. We left the room to debrief where I learned that that was the first experience of death for many of them. 

In this moment there are lots of feelings. Why did this happen? Why him? What did we do wrong? People in the ICU with 10 different lines and tubes are often expected to pass, but not the person who was sitting there talking to you 10 minutes before. Justified, confused feelings and sadness. 

As nurses  a lot of times we struggle with the one thing in the day that didn't go right. The one patient you advocated for so hard who gets up and leaves AMA, the one who you sat and educated who at the end tells you they don't care and aren't going to change their lifestyle or help themselves, or the patient who takes out all their frustration by verbally shooting down your confidence to the point where all you can do is walk away so they don't see you break down and cry. 

This is why we work 3 days a week. Long shifts, but shifts that involve giving our heart and soul into the treatment of each patient who walks in the door. 

I told the students,  these days happen. These days happen and we learn from them in so many ways. How do you react to this situation? What feelings does it trigger? Reflect on these things, feel them, and develop a strategy to move forward when you see this again. How do you center yourself after you've been rattled? 

You have to remember the wins of each day and let go of the situations that bring you down. Remember the one patient who said thank you, the one patient that made you smile, the one patient who was so grateful that you took the time to sit and listen. Those are the wins of each day. 

Each and every day you walk into a patient room, give life. Bring something into that room that brightens that persons day. A happy heart, a smile, intentional interaction even if you're only there for five minutes. Whether they take it or not, at the end of the day you can leave knowing that you have given your all. You are proud of your care, proud of who you are as a nurse, and did your best to bring light, joy, and healing. 

We like to think  we have control in this profession. We don't, but we do have control over how we respond to situations and the attitude we carry every day. 

So whatever you do, whatever profession you practice, practice giving life with each interaction. You'd be surprised at the difference you will make.

 

I Touched a Heart...

In my work I see things the average person wouldn't see, feel more emotionally in a day than the "average Joe" at work, and experience things many wouldn't feel appropriate to discuss at the dinner table. That is the life of a nurse. This reality doesn't bother me, but I often take a step back and reflect on the rare position I step into each day I walk into the ER. No one wakes up and plans to spend hours to days behind those doors. Lives change unexpectedly each and every day through our doors and I am a part of that. 

I touched a heart...

Recently I had the opportunity to place my hand on the real flesh of a heart, press gently on the heart,  initiate a beat, and feel a pulse as a result of generated  blood flow from the contraction of my touch...wow...and I often wonder how people can work in medicine and not believe in God. The design of the human body and it's systems and how that heart pumps in the first place is so intricate and beyond incredible to have evolved from a mind of its own. 

My heart felt for this patient, as hands worked tirelessly to resuscitate and bring life back. I could only pray that if the patient didn't make it, that God was holding them tight up in heaven...

I feel honored and blessed in so many ways to work in the profession I do, and strongly feel that I have the ability to touch hearts and listen to them more than just physically. I walked into a new patient room the other day and greeted a sweet woman with, "Hello, my name is Christy and I am going to be your nurse and take great care of you today. What brings you in today?" I sat down, smiled and looked her in the eyes. She smiled back and said, "well I think just your energy is helping heal me  already!"

I forget that no patient wants to walk into the ER. I love what I do, and I love that I have the opportunity to be the hands and feet of Christ to each person I encounter, and I forget that something as simple as a smile and pure joy for life can make such a difference. People ask why I'm so happy. I am happy because I carry God's love in my heart and am open to Him shining through in my life and my work.

I think if we all remembered that God lives inside each of us and looks for a way to get out, we would share Him more. Look to touch one heart today with God's love.

My Weekend On the Mountain

I am convinced that there is nothing more beautiful than a Colorado sunset over the Rocky Mountains. I had the pleasure of spending the past weekend up in Winter Park where my husband and I led confirmation retreat though our church. 

And all weekend the teens dress up in ridiculous "team wear", play games and compete, they sing, they watch the adults put on ridiculous skits purely for their entertainment, they pray, and they bond.....

They bond because they are all united through Christ. To watch the transformation from night one, where they aren't quite sure how to act or what to think, to Sunday afternoon, where they stand up and vocalize how important faith is in their life, is absolutely incredible. 

To watch God move is simply incredible. 


They watch a clip of "The Passion" where Jesus is beaten, stripped, forced to carry a cross, and crucified, and suddenly it all becomes very real.

This man died for our sins.....Jesus died for me...and there is absolute silence.
...and as we kneel during adoration we sing:

 "I stand, with arms high and heart abandoned. In awe of the One who gave it all. I stand, my soul, Lord, to You surrendered. All I am is Yours"

 All I am is Yours

 I watched teen's lives change last weekend as they opened their hearts to Christ. I watched and was inspired to renew my own faith. It's always easy to find God on the mountain top and make promises to yourself to change things, but a whole different story when you enter back into "real life". "Retreat" needs to be a more consistent theme. Not necessarily getting away to a perfect camp getaway, but finding ways to spend time with God that renew the spirit and fire under my faith. I think this looks different for each person. For me, it's finding a place to worship with music, volunteering, and mentoring youth...activities that help me remember what is important in life. 

God, I pray that everyday my words, thoughts, and actions reflect Your love. I pray that I exude the joy that comes from Your presence in my life. Grant me the courage to follow your example, to stand up for what I believe in, and to live without fear. I pray for faith like a child: unabandoned, eager, trusting, and pure. Help me find you in all things and help me to continually renew my faith by finding ways to grow in community and be challenged to spend more time strengthening my relationship with You. All I am is Yours.

Amen 

It was a Good Friday

The clouds became darker and finished closing gaps where the blue sky that had been shining all day peered through. Snow began to flurry and the clock stuck 3. I looked down from the mountain at the peaceful, snowy layout of Denver. Ironic that the snow decided to start now. 3pm, Good Friday, when we remember the crucifixion of Jesus Christ. 

70 of us, ranging from 15-70 years old had started that morning from St. Frances Cabrini to walk 20 miles to the Mother Cabrini Shrine where we prayed the stations of the cross in honor of the sacrifice Jesus made for us greater than 2000 years ago. Mostly teens present and a walk full of incredible people, amazing stories, and new friends.

We prayed the stations at the top of the mountain: "The 5th Station: Simon helps Jesus carry his cross". 

Jesus humbled himself to become fully human and take on all of our sins. As He carried that cross in His humble state, He needed help. None of us can carry the crosses of life by ourselves. 

 "We are the church". The people, not the building. It is the relationship building with one another that helps us carry out our faith because we are supported and loved by these people. This was not 20 miles of silent contemplation, but 20 miles full of smiles, laughs, conversation, and being present to each other. Through this shared experience I had the opportunity to walk with  different people and to hear their stories; people I may not have otherwise had the chance to converse with.


 ...and were we all similar or had the same interests?...no, but we all walked holding a faith in Christ, a desire to grow in that faith, and wanted to get to the top.

I think a lot of times we go to church and go through the motions to say we were there. But walking in faith is about walking in community and growing with the people around you. It's like the last post where I talked about getting to know your coworkers. It's easier to support them at work if you know where they come from. Think about your faith. It's much easier to help someone overcome trials and help carry their cross if you know what it is. In turn, if you are trying to carry your own cross, you can't do it by yourself. 

Find ways to put yourself out there, engage with your faith community, and find simple experiences to share with others. We're all on this journey together, don't  try to walk it alone.

God can be found in all things.

Have a blessed and Happy Easter!

Do You Know Them?

It was a beautiful bluebird day up on the mountain Friday where I met with a group of coworkers for a ski day. I'm newer to the unit and really wanted to build relationships with some of these people and put myself in situations outside of the stress and chaos of a work day. Sitting there and chatting I found myself asking questions you might ask anyone when you first meet...

What do you do for fun? 
Where are you from?
How long have you been a nurse?....

While I have worked side by side with these people for months, collaborated on patient care, helped resuscitate and heal, there were basic things I did not know.

What makes these people get out of bed in the morning and do what they do? Where did they come from? What is their story?

One told me his story about how he is working on a documentary that he started after biking across the country between jobs. He hopes to learn and build his own sustainable home and retire to the mountains one day. He has been skiing since he was a kid and grew up in the mountains of Colorado... 

Look around at the people you work with and spend 80% of your weekly time. Do you really know them at all? What if we took two minutes every day to get to know something new and unique about those people. Like them or not,  a look into their life helps you understand who they are, why they do what they do, and how they can be encouraged and lifted up on a day to day basis. It helps you connect on a deeper level.

Wouldn't you have more fun at work if you worked with your friends? You can't be friends until you know something about them below the surface. 

Try it.

You're In Good Hands

I think anxiety is one of the worst feelings in the world. Your body clenches up, your mind races, and there seems to be no rest ahead, no solution or light at the end of the tunnel. I encounter many people/patients in a week that carry this cross. Some, daily, and others simply under the given circumstances. 

One patient in particular came in struggling to breathe, feeling tight in the chest, and scared of possible diagnosis/outcomes. Test and procedures were performed quickly to rule out cardiac problems, the hustle and bustle only adding to the stress she was feeling at that time. As people cleared out of the room I sat at her bedside to speak with her and help calm her fears. I assured her that if anything bad was happening that she was in the best place for that to happen. Having full faith in my team I promised her she would be well taken care of and that as her nurse I would take good care of her. 

I noticed a red rosary that she grasped tightly in her hands. "I love your rosary" I commented. She looked down and gave a slight smile. I touched her shoulder and looked her in the eyes, "You are in good hands". 
"I know, I guess. I've never been here before..."
"No," I stopped her and touched her hands and motioned to her rosary. "No matter what happens, you are in great hands". 
She nodded and smiled. "Yes, yes I am," she said. I left to get pain medication for her as she settled back on the stretcher.

In life and in the hardest moments sometimes we need to be reminded that when God is in charge we are in good hands. We may never understand it all, but it all happens for a reason and will all work out in the end. 

Let Him take your anxiety. Let Him take your fear. Let go and let God.

Right Where You're Meant to Be

Grandpa’s breathing became apneic. Two days before he was sitting up in his chair begging for an orange popsicle, and this morning his barely audible words had progressed to no words at all. The family was gathered close and we offered words of love and reassurance. Maybe it was the tugging on my heart, maybe it was the silence that I had trouble sitting with, or maybe it was the desire to connect to grandpa’s heart in a special way as he had sung at my wedding only 6 months ago. Whatever the reason I broke into “Amazing Grace”, then “Ave Maria”, and the songs kept coming.

The last song I sang came from a special place in my heart as it was one I had written. “Meant to Be” was written from a place  of fear and hope with the unknown ahead.

…look at all the people who love you, look at your true friends so dear. Count your blessings, capture the laughter, remember to smile and love with no fear. Find God in everything that you see, and know you’re right where you’re meant to be…

And as I sang my song the words changed as they became a prayer and the best last words I could offer to my grandfather…

…Look at all the people who love you, look at all your family right here. Count your blessings, capture the laughter, remember to smile, let go of your fears. Find God is everything that you see. You’re going right where you’re meant to be.

There’s a reason you’re here. And though it isn’t clear, just let go and you will see, you’re going right where you’re meant to be.

I left a few hours later after a week of prayer, moments, and presence with him, and he was still holding on. I don’t think we will ever fully understand God’s plan or God’s timing in life, but I can hold on to the faith and hope that there’s something beautiful on the other side. Something greater than any of us could ever imagine. Our goal is to live our lives to the fullest so that when He calls we’re ready to walk through the door.

My song, “Meant to Be”, can be found on itunes:

https://itunes.apple.com/us/album/meant-to-be-single/id985416746

The Presence of Death

As I sit here at grandpas bedside it's amazing to observe how different people see death. Grandpa is 90 years old and at the end stage of esophageal cancer. Grandpa who stood up and sang Ave Maria at my wedding only 6 months ago... Grandpa who cruised around Las Vegas like a champ for his 90th birthday in October. His brain is fully intact while his body is weaker every day with only days to weeks to live. The support, love, and prayers at this time is beautiful and overwhelming. 

I sit here and I am content. The first few days were hard as I entered into a medical situation and had to balance my place on this trip. There is a fine line between nurse and granddaughter, and on this trip I really just need to be here as "favorite granddaughter" (aka only granddaughter :p). For grandpa, my knowledge of the disease process is helpful, but what is most important is presence. Trip after trip to California he would ask "when will we see you again?" ...I didn't always know. This trip came about at the drop of a hat when I head the words "hospice". Time better spent in the days before death then after. And to fly out to just be present was the best gift I could give him at this time. 

Who needs presence? Do you have people in your life, people you work with, those who are dear to you who need you to be present in their lives? How often do we take the time to be still and be with someone? Do we make enough time before it's too late or do we scramble to pull it together when there is limited time remaining? Everyone always comes together in the last moments, as they should, but what if we lived our lives to truly soak in and enjoy every moment with others so when the final moments came there were no regrets about calls made, time spent, and the relationship that was built?

Life is precious. Enjoy every day, live in every moment, count your blessings, and count every experience and encounter. Let joy overwhelm your life so that one day when God is ready to take you, you are ready to skip through the pearly gates and leave behind only the joy you put in the hearts of the people you left behind.

Thanks God...

How often do we take the time to say "thank you"?

I mean for those things we take for granted in life: A roof over my head, a job, food on the table, a man who loves me...I wake up every day breathing, functioning, and alive. These are gifts. Gifts that are so easy to take for granted in every moment of life.

Do I stop and give thanks for these blessings? Do I remember to thank God for all he's given me or am I always asking for things, complaining about things, and wondering why things didn't go my way...

I was walking today with my best friend. It was an absolutely gorgeous day and we had so much fun laughing, talking, walking, and just catching up on life. I took a moment to soak it in and to acknowledge the gifts in this day that God had given me. The friendship, the laughter, the warmth of the sun, the beauty of the day, and the joy in my heart. 

...And when I took a moment to recognize the beauty in this day, it made the joy even greater. It's the little things in life that are so easy to overlook. 

"Well you only need the light when it’s burning low
Only miss the sun when it starts to snow
Only know you love her when you let her go
Only know you’ve been high when you’re feeling low
Only hate the road when you’re missing home"     

-Passenger

I challenge you to live each day with a joyful, grateful heart. Learn to love things in each moment before they are lost in the craziness of life. See how it changes your perspective and brings out joy and the presence of God more frequently in your life. And smile knowing that you are blessed. Maybe not in the same way as everyone else, but God blesses each and every one of us in unique ways.