Must…Get…Moving! Must…Have…Control!

Must stop talking like Captain Kirk!

I’ve worked with nurses like this.

Good ones.

You will get up to ambulate post-op and you will not give excuses.

She heard them all!

And lord help you if you didn’t have a BM prior to discharge.

She had ways of getting you to go!

John may have had nurses just as tough.

He never got a chance to find out.

He only saw them once every four hours.

Or whenever his blood sugar was due.

And then only because he was on a sliding insulin scale.

Pardon my ignorance, but back in the Jurassic age of nursing we did what were called “rounds” on our patients at least every two hours. Guess they stopped that archaic practice while I was sitting on my butt in ER.

Geeze, that sounded snarky.

But it’s true! They kept John through the weekend and I went up to watch “Survivor” with him that Sunday night.

I hate “Survivor”.

I was there for four hours and saw what I think was a nurse once. No, I’m sorry, twice. Once for the blood sugar check at bedtime and then the time she brought pain medication.

One hour after John requested it.

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The next day, Monday morning, after a sleepless night, I dropped my son off at the airport for his flight back for graduation at 0530 and headed for the hospital so that I would be there when John was seen by his physician.

Looking back, I realize I had developed that pressured, frenzied behavior and thinking pattern that is part anxiety and part coping mechanism, that when combined with pure exhaustion presents as a paradoxical adrenaline rush that only seems to come at times of severe stress. Numb and yet hyperactive in both brain and body.

I had things to do.

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Looking at the notes I kept on that last day in the hospital, I can see how pressured I felt, although as time passes it is harder to recall. So here, in a very stream-of-thought fashion is an example of how my brain was functioning.

…check out glucometer cost, find out if insurance will cover and keep Glucotabs on hand.

…get John a doctor prior to a referral, my doctor isn’t taking new patients, get name of endocrinologist from him

…go to store, healthy food, complex carbohydrates, realize when one person in family is diabetic we all are

…call opthalmologist for eye exam and real glasses so John can read insulin syringe, also to check for any diabetes related damage

…realize I’m not groggy but have had no sleep in two days.

…check feet. John’s, not mine

…tell MY doctor I want what JOHN is taking for his BP because it works better than my med.

…get the clothes to the dry cleaners because we are leaving in 72 hours for South Bend, Indiana for son’s graduation and I need two more dresses.

…screw the dresses.

…buy donuts for nurses on the way to hospital at 0600.

…get to room. Set up “office” in room with, computer (no wireless I can hook into, dang), notepad, coffee, cell phone, patient phone within reach….

…Been sort of a hands-off family member until now, just observing.

No more.

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…now I want ANSWERS. Dammit, Jim! No more of this molly-coddling or amorphous “we aren’t sure” crap.

…WHY is the bilirubin still HIGH? {Ed. note: gallbladder gangrene; John was sicker than we realized}

…WHYis he in the hospital for if he doesn’t see a nurse except for once every four hours?

…Why CAN’T he go home and let me take care of the insulin and that damn Jackson-Pratt drain that has become part of his anatomy. I’ve seen one or two in my time.

….must clean house. Must water every plant in two mile radius of house.

…must not let anything die

…must be in charge

… have to get moving, it’s all on me

…afraid to leave room until I have seen both the surgeon and the hospitalist (where the hell are they?)

…start new blog as most of what I want to write has nothing to do with ER nursing. {Ed. note: you’re reading it}.

….realize that life is what happens while you are writing blogs.

…realize how life would fall apart if John died. Bury that thought. Deep.

….where are the doctors, it’s exactly 1023. Who the hell doesn’t make rounds until noon?

…realize I’m being irrational.

…realize I haven’t eaten for 16 hours. Realize I’m not hungry. Realize I’m living on coffee and Diet Pepsi.

…realize I may lose weight.

…realize there could be a positive side to stress

… realize I am Type A personality hidden under Type B facade.

…realize that I need to take a breath.

…realize that our life as we knew it is gone, to be replaced by a healthier and hopefully longer one.

And if you had seen me through all this, you would have seen an extremely professional, very polite, absolute Rock of Gibraltar.

Externally.

Next: You can handle what you know. It’s the unknown that scared the hell out of you.