So Many Stories...

Question: So why haven't I posted any?

Answer:
Number One,
My roommate and I still don't have internet, and the few times during the week I go to Colin's house (where there IS internet), it's because we plan to eat dinner there (which means I have to organize and then carry a load of ingredients, some cooking dishes, and sometimes some pages of recipes over to his house).

I don't go to his house until I've cooled off from my bikeride home from work and taken a shower. Then the cooking itself takes some time--usually he walks in his door around the time it's ready, between 9 and 9:30pm. After we eat, I generally take a nap on his futon, or check through my blogroll to see what's happening with friends and family members.

When he is done with his nightly "bug patrol" --literally, he goes outside with his flashlight and camera to check out the critters that have gathered around his outdoor lantern, his plants, and his cement wall-- he wakes me up and I am ready to go home. And ready to crash there. Because I have to wake up at 6am and bike to work for 7am.


Number Two,
My stories are probably going to need a lot of background information. There are always stories, everyday, from working with my patients that I think may really be the "you had to be there" or "you have to understand the context" events. ...And because I've spoken the language for the past three years, and now have gradually become comfortable with how things work and what is expected of me, I don't even know how much background information is too much--and how much can just get picked up by the reader along the way.

Some examples of my situational tidbits...
...The really sweet little man in his 70's with the chest tube due to a collapsed lung and a broken leg in a full cast who cannot tolerate "walking" more than 12 feet total with a rolling walker, tells his nurse that he thinks crutches would be better. "I just want to hop around," he tells her. That in itself is kind of funny.
...But then the fact that when his nurse pages me, she and I decide to actually toss him the bone, just because it will motivate him to get up one more time that day--I show up with crutches, try to tell him it takes MORE balance and energy to use them than it takes to use the rolling walker, but he is adamant. So I grab his nurse, and she and I practically have to carry him while he "uses" them for about 6 feet before he decides to give in and "forget these crutches!"
The lengths to which we will go to get people up and moving...


...The man who gets admitted because of "altered mental status" (AMS) who asks me what color I think everything in the room is, asks me if I see the bubbles going up and down the wall, then shows me his hospital bracelet and says it's made of lamb's wool. Then he says that his doctor told him earlier that when the patient sees me, that means he's "passed on." After I try to console him by telling him that he is in the hospital and that we're taking care of him and that he's getting better, I decide that maybe I'm upsetting him and this is how it's being manifested. As I exit the room, the phlebotomist enters, and smirks as she whispers to me, "See you later, angel!"
...The patient's nurse is concerned that the man is starting to talk about more than just colors and bubbles, so she notifies the primary physician. Who fails to understand why talking about death may be of more concern than talking about bubbles....


...Praising people for coughing up sputum is one of the most difficult aspects of my job. Especially now that I'll be rotating to the "pulmonary" sub-team of my "Neuro-Cardio-Pulmonary" team this week, where coughing up sputum is generally a primary goal! I don't mind a lot of things that I thought I would mind. But when that junk comes out--whether I hear it gurgling in the throat or see it shooting out of a tracheostomy--I have to really control myself to avoid visibly cringing.
"Great!" I coo with dramatic enthusiasm. "Better out than in!" or "Keep it up!" or "Nice job!"
Blech.
Almost as bad is asking them to describe the color, thickness, and amount they coughed up when I wasn't there to see it. My imagination is a little too vivid.


...Sometimes it's hard for people to feel comfortable when they hear me say that I'm going to be the one to help them get out of bed. I'm often challenged with skeptical responses: "You?" or "You sure you can handle it by yourself?" or "I think it may take more than one person." It's great to show them that my technique--not my strength--plus whatever they can contribute themselves, is effective for the job at hand. I'm learning how to gain their trust sooner, though, with statements such as "one thing at a time," and "we'll sit at the edge of the bed first and see how you feel," and "we won't do anything until both of us are ready," etc.
One larger patient's husband got a kick out of me helping his wife into the chair a few different times. On one occasion, her nurse paged me because she and another nurse were having a difficult time helping this woman back into bed. So I went back to the room to give the nurses some tips as well as some physical assistance, and was greeted by the patient's husband, "Here comes the little crane for the big load!"

Another patient looked at me in wonderment after I helped him stand a few times near the edge of his bed. He said,"Wow, little lady! You're strong for bein' so small! You must work out or somethin'!"

I try to tell these patients that they do more than they think, that it's my body position and the gait belt I use that makes it possible, ...but it's a fun part of my job, nonetheless.



So these are the kinds of stories that fill my days. I suspect that this at least gives a flavor of the environment I'm in all the time.

When I get internet at my house, I may be able to post them more regularly. That is, on the days that I cook dinner in my own kitchen!