In New Shoes

As nurses we see, feel, think, hear, and smell things the average person does not in his or her daily work. The crazy thing is that after a while it doesn’t phase us. Thus, why we can discuss bodily fluids at the dinner table without realizing that it may not be quite so appealing to the rest of the normal world. That being said, I think perspective of circumstances changes as life changes. Cases that made me feel one way now may be different three months from now based on life events.

Now that I am expecting a child, I see cases surrounding miscarriage, pregnant patients, and children in a whole different light. For kids I want to soak in every ounce of knowledge so I can assess my own sick child in the year to come and know when I should be concerned as a nurse verses just being a mom. Will there be a difference?

I triaged a woman with the same due date as myself and sent her back to a room to see a doctor for abdominal discomfort. Immediately I felt connected to her. Something about the solidarity between pregnant women...that understanding of discomfort, change, and vulnerability that comes in the first few months that makes your heart feel for that other woman no matter who she is or where she comes from. I didn’t reveal this commonality to her, nor did my baggy jacket, but worried simply because any new or uncomfortable symptoms in a pregnancy are scary. After she went back to a room I checked my baby app as I do daily to learn what fruit my baby was comparable to that week. A small peach. Wow, I thought. We were both carrying human life the size of a peach!

Later that shift I reached out to help a coworker with an IV and ended up in this same woman’s room, where she was indeed miscarrying. The sadness and pain in her eyes and the father’s eyes struck me. Why her? I thought. Why is that fair that her baby couldn’t make it? Why do they have to feel this pain? Why isn’t it me in her shoes? I looked down to see the beautiful baby, too young to be saved, curled up and attached to the umbilical cord, the size of a small peach.

I have seen miscarriages before and cried silently for the baby and family, but this one pulled my heart strings in a different way. I silently prayed for this baby and mom and dad and held back my tears. The first miscarriage I witnessed I cried out of pure shock and sadness for the family, trying to process the sight in front of me. This time I knew what to expect, but I was struck by the beauty of the baby, how in his developing state, he looked so perfect and human. I was confused with feelings of sadness and wonder as I realized that was what was inside of me. That is what my baby looked like.

A selfish part of me wanted to be a part of her care, to help however I could simply to feel like I could do something...because what can you do or say at a time like this? I simply could not imagine being in her shoes...and I felt vulnerable knowing her shoes were walking my same path only hours before.

I am continually grateful for what I have and where I am, particularly in a job that sees tragedy most every day. I pray for the grace to be present to others and humility to be grateful for each day I am not in the shoes of patients I treat.

A New Baseline

I stopped, took a deep breath, and thought to myself You’re being ridiculous. You can do this. It will all get done. I felt overwhelmed and quite honestly just wanted to sit down and cry, yet at the same time realized this was irrational and I was overreacting. Conversing in my head I realized I was flat out exhausted. I called for help and was granted extra hands, yet I still just wanted to throw in the towel and cry.

Yes, I work 12 hours shifts and run around on my feet all day, but usually the exhaustion hits at the end of day 3. When fatigue takes hold before day 1/3 even begins it can be a rough day. The last three months have been rough and recently took a turn for the better (thus my lack of posting). It is hard to find a positive spin to life when it takes every aspect of your being just to get out of bed in the morning. This is not me, this is not who I am. What is worse is when your coworkers notice. I looked tired, my energy was low, and faking it days on in addition to days off was flat out exhausting! Turns out I am pregnant, which explained the utter exhaustion, constant nausea, and irrational mood swings. A beautiful thing, yet really hard if you’re keeping it a secret through the first trimester and visibly not yourself. It’s hard to just “be sick” for 2 months.

In this time, I reflected a lot about what it meant to be out of my element. No, I wasn’t myself and no, I couldn’t run around the ER with my same gusto. What is more, my patients often annoyed me and I found myself thinking What happened to my compassion? Why is it so hard to fake it and not get annoyed?

Trying to come to work and fake my normal level 10 energy needed to end. It was too much. The first step was accepting this. I acknowledged that I had a new baseline. I didn’t need to skip everywhere, I could slow down my pace and still get everything done well. I hoped it would end soon, but in the meantime, took lots of deep breaths, and gave whatever my best was for that day.

Life throws us waves and we must learn to roll with the tide. As nurses we’re good at that. Flexibility is key. But we’re the ones caring and don’t do well being cared for. This was humbling as I was forced to slow down and let my coworkers help me and my husband care for me and take stress away at home. It reminded me what it is like to be the patient…So the patients who were annoying were simply annoyed because they had to be in the care of others, not because they wanted to be rude. I could at least relate to this.

It’s critical to leave personal problems at the door. My physical symptoms were still present, but my mental strength could acknowledge I was not doing well, leave “me” at the door, and move through my day one step at a time.