Resolving to Care

I started off my New Year at work determined to start new habits. The glorious New Year's resolution plan. I even made a poster to encourage the thought process of self care as a goal for a resolution. What did I do today? Naturally didn't follow through with the promises I had made to myself, and they were little things like to put something in my mouth as a snack at least every three hours and fill up/drink my water bottle just as often. Self care is a hard concept to grasp and be okay with in a profession that specializes in putting others first. In my current state it carries much more weight when I realize I am not just caring for myself, but also the little human I am growing inside me. Then it feels selfish to not practice good habits. 

But why does it take having a baby to influence how I care for myself? I should be prioritizing basic human needs like food and water and bathroom breaks on the regular, and as nurses I think these little things are the first to give when we are focused on caring for everything our patient's need all day long. I'm not talking about long breaks, just simply the respect to myself to prioritize those needs as I prioritize everything else in a shift. 

"You can't care for others well until you have taken time to care for yourself". There is so much truth to the wise words of my mother. As long as no one is actively dying, taking 5 minutes to eat a snack to avoid being hangry is in my best interest in addition to the interest of those around me. Even such small acts of self care take practice. It's not something one can be good at unless you practice it regularly. It's like working out. You don't stay in good shape unless you keep up with your weekly regiment...and we all know the crazy crowds at the gym die down by the end of January when the New Year's pledge of consistent workouts tends to wear off...

So how do I resolve to care for myself? This year I resolve to listen to my body, to acknowledge how I'm feeling physically and mentally and process my days and learn from them. This is packing snacks so I don't hit a "hangry"low and take it out on those around me. This is checking in with myself and acknowledging my feelings so my emotional well-being is also assessed. This is acknowledging the feelings and basic needs of those around me and encouraging my coworkers to also advocate for themselves. 

I resolve to prioritize my health as part of a daily practice that strives for resilience. I resolve to care for myself so I that I know when I have hit my limits and can then take a step back and catch fatigue and burnout before they take over. I resolve to smile and take each day one at a time. I resolve to reconnect to my purpose and remember why I nurse and remember the privilege it is to care for those around me. 

I will not be perfect, but this year I resolve to continually strive for these things. Here's to a resilient year.

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. 

Gratitude

It’s the most wonderful time of the year, right? I like to think so. The excitement, giving, and spirit of the holiday season typically fills my life with joy. There is nothing like Amy Grant’s Christmas album playing with a kitchen full of baking goods and friends and family. I think in a way I have always taken this for granted. I thoroughly enjoy holidays with my family where we spend countless hours laughing and competing in board games, treasuring the time we have together. That time is precious and I wouldn’t trade it for the world.

This week at work made me grateful for my reality. For many it’s the most stressful time of the year. Finances are tight, family problems arise, deadlines get harder, and as Thanksgiving and Christmas loom closer the stress builds. For others, it’s the loneliest time of the year. My suicidal patient this week told me I (as in the hospital system) was only making her life worse by locking her away on a holiday away from family and friends. I felt for her as this was a difficult time and the fact of the matter was that she was safer in a facility than at home. Yet she made a valid claim…aren’t we all better when we feel surrounded by those we love?

Then there was my stroke patient who was no longer capable of ambulating independently and was admitted the day before Thanksgiving. He was grumpy and I stopped myself before saying “Happy Thanksgiving” and changed my language, recognizing that this Thanksgiving for him was not going to be so happy, rather potentially life changing. He had made it very clear that he was not happy about the situation. I held his hand and wished him well.

No one comes to the ER because they think it will be a fun experience for the day. They come seeking help, and on the holidays, most often because the matter is urgent. It is always hard to see a family member in the hospital, but that weight is felt more around holidays.

I recognized yesterday that many whom I treated were in for a rough Thanksgiving with their families. One family so relieved to have help for their dad, yet sitting by his intubated side in critical condition on this Thanksgiving, and another who buried their mother the morning of only to have their father pass suddenly that very evening. As time of death was called shortly after arrival I began the process of the death paperwork and stopped. The patient was dead on arrival and we only did CPR for a few short minutes. Typically, these cases have little emotion attached simply because we know there was nothing that could be done; however, when everyone left the room I paused and reflected over this man’s case and felt a pain in my heart. This family lost not one but two people in a short span, and their joyful holiday was clouded by the sadness of loss. This man was celebrating the life of his wife just hours before…it would be a Thanksgiving without her…did he die of a broken heart? Usually this case wouldn’t strike a chord, but sadness and tribulation feels greater in this most wonderful time.

Life brings its ups and downs and it is amazing to witness and an honor to be a part of many people’s holiday experience. It is times like these you almost feel more needed than ever as a looming holiday adds more stress and sadness to a situation. I hugged a daughter before leaving last night who said “You really love your job. We need more people like you”… a small reminder of why I do what I do. I love caring for others. While holidays are tough they present a beautiful opportunity as a nurse to make a huge impact in someone’s life. It is an honor to be in a position to bring stability and peace to the chaos. For that I am grateful.

To my nurses working today, thank you for working and remember you have the ability to make an extra special difference for someone today. Happy Thanksgiving.

I'm Your Advocate

Recently I've been educating about distracted driving in the high schools to fulfill hours for my practicum course. One of the classes I was fortunate to speak in was focused on careers and future aspirations. The teacher asked me to speak a bit at the end about nursing and what it is like to be a nurse. As I started to speak I became excited. I was so proud to talk about my job that I love so much and kept coming back to the idea of being an advocate for others. I find this to be one of the most beautiful pieces of the nursing profession. 

Advocacy in nursing comes in so many different forms. On someone's worst day I have the ability to be their voice and advocate for best practice and excellent care. As an educator I have the ability to advocate for my students and support their growth and development. As a relief charge I get to advocate for my nurses in the craziness of our daily work.

When I first began to transition into a relief charge position I was curious as to if I would like not having my own load of patients. Would I miss that patient connection? Would I lose a par of that patient advocacy? Surprisingly I found quite the opposite.

Every shift as leadership we are asked to round on patients in the department. How has your care been? How have we made you feel cared for as person? I was running around trying to check tasks off my daily list when I found myself rounding on a tearful young woman. She was the daughter of a patient who had been living with her for an extended period of time. She had become his caregiver. I sat down to ask my questions starting with “how has your care been today?” This sweet woman broke in to tears as she explained the disease process that took over her father and her fear that she could no longer handle his medical needs. She voiced her internal struggle and how she swore she would never put him in a nursing home, but was realizing right now things were just too much. She wept and I had the honor of listening and allowing her to express the pent up frustration and sadness she had been harboring. I was struck by her honestly and her devotion to family. She was such a strong, kind, and selfless woman, and her father, too weak to speak much for himself, simply looked towards her and smiled. He loved her and the connection these two shared was just beautiful. As he went off for a scan I discussed options with the daughter. I applauded her dedication and the love she possessed and reminded her that she was only one person. She was only one person and her superhuman strength and love could only take her so far. I connected her with our case manager and wished her luck. By the time I walked out of the room we had spent a solid 20 minutes together.
On a busy day as a nurse there is no way I would have been able to sit for that long without being called away to another room. This was a type of patient and family interaction I had not anticipated being in leadership. This was the ability to advocate for the awesome care my nurses provide in addition to giving someone who needs it the space to talk during a life changing event. This advocacy is my favorite part of nursing. Advocating for my staff, for my patients, and for their families. While a charge shift poses different challenges and responsibilities throughout the day, it still provides fulfilling interactions that help reach and care for people in a way I didn’t anticipate. Perspective change is always valuable and this new leadership opportunity has allowed me to open my eyes and see emergency care through a different lens that ultimately broadens my perspective.

Thank You

The last couple of weeks have been rough. I struggled with fatigue in college and it has taken me 7 years to feel like I have a grasp of what I can and can't eat and what fuels verses what fatigues me. For the most part I have a great handle on this, but every once in a while it creeps up on me and robs me of my enthusiasm for life. This is frustrating and when you work 12 hour shifts it tests your patience and ability to hold compassion for others when you can barely hold it together yourself! For someone naturally bubbly and energetic a blow to my stamina feels like a blow to my identity. The struggle feels real. 

One of these days was busy. I had psyched myself up to working with the emergent patients in the ER with my light at the end of the day being that I was only working an 8 hour shift. I was able to smile and work my way through the morning which was fairly slow and steady and tried not to acknowledge the heaviness in my limbs. 

I had the honor of caring for a very sick septic patient that day who required mostly 1:1 attention for the first few hours of her arrival. She was sick, unstable, and her condition unexpected to her sweet husband who sat by her side the whole time. We were holding ICU patients and so her typical period of stabilization to transfer to CCU was prolonged by the capacity of the hospital. My patient was unable to communicate with me effectively, so I tried my best to explain to her husband what was going on and what to expect. He was calm and open to everything I had to say. Part of me wondered if he fully understood the extent of her condition. 

In and out, in and out of her room, small talk with the husband, and simply counting down the hours til I could go home. She was stable when I left that evening and I didn't think much of it. I had just hoped I had been able to give enough that day. 

Two days later I was down at the coffee cart when I felt a tap on my shoulder. That same husband approached me and said, "I just wanted to say thank you for everything you did the other day, with my wife. I really appreciated it. Thank you." 

I was so appreciative of his words. Every day in this profession we try and try and try, and many days go home not knowing if we did enough. It's these little moments that help remind me why I do what I do. I don't do it for the recognition or the thanks, but when someone takes the time to say they appreciate you, it sure goes a long way. 

I think we forget to thank a lot of people in our lives. Remember to appreciate those around you and verbalize it. Sometimes those two little words go a lot further than you would imagine. They did for me.

Humbled

The things we encounter in a day as a nurse...

I was reflecting on what I could blog about and threw up a prayer asking God to help me articulate something meaningful. I think God chuckled a bit as I was working this day of my request and He placed me in a scenario that I believe I will hold on to for a long time, if not forever. 

That's the thing about nursing, and particularly in the ER, that you get so used to seeing emergent, traumatic patients, they often blend together by the end of the days, weeks, and months. A minor story you tell at the dinner table (most definitely retained by those non-medical people at the table who are usually horrified) is forgotten days later as it is replaced by new cases and people. We only vividly remember a few.

This was one to remember. This patient had family in critical condition and was brought in to help regain control of his breathing, which was triggered by grief and panic. The beloved family member did not have much time, and after the first few minutes of medication and deep breathing we were asked if the patient was stable enough to say goodbye in the last minutes of the loved-one's parting. I threw some oxygen on the man, grabbed a wheelchair, and took him down the hall as quickly as I could, knowing only minutes were remaining. 

When we wheeled in the door I positioned him next to the bed of his love one, who had just passed. Doctor came in and delivered the news, and the sound of my patient's grief echoed down the halls of the CCU. For 45 minutes I witnessed the strength of the family supporting each other and helping calm down my patient in the midst of their sadness and disbelief. 

I stood bracing my patient to ensure he didn't fall out of the wheelchair, and wiped his tears as I held back my own. My heart ached for this man. Not only was his world flipped upside down that day, but he was so overcome with grief that he could hardly catch his breath. I imagined myself in his shoes and quickly jumped out of that thought as such a thought was terrifying and brought immediate, strong emotion. 

I could not imagine what this man was feeling, but I can still hear his cries to God asking "why?". I still can see his tear-stricken face and glassy eyes, and I can feel the tug on my heart that inside cried with this man.

I was completely humbled. The pain and the grief that no words could touch at the time. The humanness of the situation. The reality of life and death. The truth of the brother who simply stated that we all have a time that will come. The reality that I work in a profession where I get to be present to people on their very worst days. 

I was humbled to witness such a vulnerable time with this family. It's so easy to forget the terror and tragedy that can accompany a visit to the ER because we see it every day. It is humbling to step inside someone's world and view things through a new lens and feel with those involved. I pray this man finds peace in the darkness of this time, and I pray that his story remains in the back of my heart as a reminder to hold close the ones I love and to remember what it is like to be on the other side of the curtain.