All of Us!

All of Us!
Finally! All together with enough time to spare (??) to capture a picture of all six of us in the same spot, same time. Now this is a precious photo! I tried to get one last year for our Christmas card and didn't succeed. So when I had the chance I threw out the lasso and rounded everyone up (at my niece's graduation party) to grab a couple snapshots. My oldest son, Casey, and his girlfriend Nika are on the left; and my youngest son, Brady, and his girlfriend Jenne on the right; that leaves Bob and I in the center. (Bob is the one who doesn't look very happy about having his picture taken!!)

Sunday, February 21, 2010

Life Is As Good As You Make It; I Want Mine With Lemons

When life gives you lemons, you make lemonade. Sounds kind of stupid, but I really believe in this saying. No, actually, what else are you going to do with lemons, squeeze them to brighten up something, to clean something, to make something better. Isn’t that sort of what life is all about? If things are bad, can’t a person look for something good to brighten up your day? Is that too much to ask? Is that too hard to do? I don’t think so. Life is too short to go around trying to look for the bad and the ugly in it. Life is so much sweeter, happier, delightful when you can find something that can make you happy instead of sour. Wouldn’t you rather eat a sweeter apple than a sour one? Who really wants something sour when you can have something sweet? Why not live life to the fullest, be the best that you can be, do what you love to do – you have been given life to enjoy not to detest it and shake your fist at. So make new acquaintances, enjoy their company, enjoy old friendships, seek out what’s new, what’s old. I can’t imagine going through life being a sour person. What fun would that be? What joy in life would there be? Why not embrace those people that you enjoy and revel in the joy in their life. Look at how quickly it spreads. You pay forward. You get to do good while enjoying your own life.
 
As I sat in the emergency room yesterday with my aunt, I watched people. I actually love to watch people. I like to see what makes them tick, what doesn’t. I watched the nurses and the doctors that took care of the sick, the injured, the inflicted. There isn’t a whole lot to do when you sit there for hours, so you might as well make the best of it and learn what you can about others while you’re there. I watched as nurses came in and out, doctors came in and out. The initial nurse tried to take blood but could not find a vein anywhere on Auntie’s good arm. She poked and tapped and all the while, she apologized, she called her honey. She cared about her job. You could tell she liked what she was doing. Another nurse came in to take a stab at it (pardon the pun, if you will). This redheaded ER nurse was so funny. She made Auntie feel comfortable for all the uncomfortable things she was doing to her and about to do. It was way too early in the morning for us and late in her work day, but she was still fresh. She still had love for her job even at the end of her shift. As the sun began to rise, this redheaded nurse was able to tap the tree and find some sweet maple syrup. The blood she was able to draw was as precious as syrup to a tree as it was hard to find. We were delighted; or as delighted as a person can be after they have been poked many times.
 
I know all too well about being poked and prodded because when I was first diagnosed in the hospital as a Type I diabetic, I was poked every hour to draw some blood for the first couple days. Sometimes they would draw a pint (okay not a pint but sometimes it seems like it) or poke my finger. It was monotonous, it didn’t hurt much after awhile but it was necessary. It’s not fun, but they wouldn’t be doing it if it wasn’t necessary. Of course, I'm used to it now.
 
Auntie took it all with a grain of salt. When the nurses said "this is going to hurt" she didn’t even wince. I felt bad because usually when I am at the hospital I learn the names of those that are taking care of her. I guess I was just tired enough from being awoke in the middle of the night for a run to the hospital, that I didn’t pay attention at first. I felt bad about it later in the day, so I made up for it, by learning each and every name of the people we dealt with along the way.
When the doctor came in and said they had to try to put in an IV, I told him that she had a PICC line the last time she was in, so they changed their minds and felt the PICC was the best way to go.
 
The PICC nurse was coming on duty at 8:00 so we had to sit and wait for a while. When Amanda the PICC nurse came in, she was talkative, courteous and just what you wanted when you have to go through this procedure. She asked Auntie questions about herself, got her talking so she wouldn’t have to think about what was going to be happening. In my mind, this is classic procedure if you are a good doctor or nurse. It makes the patient forget about the upcoming trauma their body is going to be enduring. It makes it less painful. She engaged Auntie in conversation but yet along the way kept her informed of every step she was taking. It was poetry in motion, if you can ever consider a medical procedure something like that. But it was fluid movements of the conductor while making her feel she was part of the orchestra and not in the audience looking on. I wasn’t there the first time a couple weeks ago when she had the PICC line put in, so I don’t know if it went as well. I was just happy that we had Amanda doing her part so well. It was obvious she was well rehearsed, as she was a success. She said she does approximately four to five PICC lines a day. That’s darn good preparation for what I thought was her greatest performance ever.
 
When she was done, we headed upstairs to a room on the cardiac floor as Auntie was being admitted. She was being settled into her room by a couple nurses and we were waiting for her day nurse to come in. Rachel finally arrived. Another redhead. This was our day for redheads. Now was she going to be as good as our ER redhead? This redhead was younger than our first, probably in her mid- to late-20's. Experience was not as much on her side as it was with the ER nurse, but I was not quick to judge.
 
When I become fully involved in something, I am an inquirer, a learner, a study and researcher of everything that is going on. I did this from the very beginning of Auntie’s journey with getting sick and it wasn’t going to stop now. I know everything that has gone on and so when the nurses would question something, I would answer before they were able to look it up. They soon became aware that I knew probably more than their computer on her past care, etc. But now it was my turn to learn more again. I am always concerned, as every advocate for any patient should be, that the patient – in this case, Auntie – always get the best care. I believe that if you are involved and forthright, but not overly forceful, you can win the appeal of those taking care of your patient, but you will also alert them to the fact that this patient is special and she is not be left to be unattended. I am not saying that that happens (all the time) but I know it does. I just don’t want it happening on my watch. Rachel soon learned what I was up to and engaged me accordingly. I would ask questions about everything she was doing and she reciprocated and was not bothered by my asking. I was then able to explain to Auntie what was going on. This is where you can feel a bonding with the caretaker at hand and if it will or will not be a good working relationship. Rachel was so attentive, and courteous. She was another person who called Auntie endearing names but hers was mostly "sweetheart." You can tell when someone is being sarcastic when they use an endearing name, and you can tell when someone is being caring. Rachel was caring. Auntie and I even discussed this when she left the room. She took the time to sit down bedside and explain things in laymen’s terms, not in the medical terminology that puts a patient to sleep or makes them impatient because they don’t understand a word the medical professional has just uttered. This is a person who cares, who loves her job and who doesn’t take the worst and carry it around with her all day and leaves bits and pieces on the shoulders of people she meets along her day. This is what you always hope for. Hospitals are not nice places to be, only because it means something is wrong. Wrong enough that you don’t want to be there. The best you can hope for is that the people you are dealing with at the hospital can make your stay as nice as possible to help make a stressful situation more pleasant. We found that in Rachel.
 
When I left last night, it was late. Late enough that as I walked into the parking lot of the hospital, I met the redheaded nurse from the ER. Eighteen hours had passed since we first met that morning and she was returning for her shift again. When I noticed her, I said hi, of course, not knowing if she would remember me from the ER early the morning before. She quickly said, hi and asked if I had been there all day. I told her yes, except for leaving for an hour for a tax appointment that I couldn’t reschedule. She then immediately asked about how Auntie was doing. I quickly informed her and she stated how nice she was and what an excellent patient she had been by not complaining about a thing. I thanked her for the great care she had given my aunt. This redheaded ER nurse took the time out of her day (night) to ask about a patient that passed through her hands in the middle of the night. I appreciated that. That’s a person who loves her job, who doesn’t see it as a 9-to-5, or in her case 8-to-8, job. We were two-for-two on the redheads. When you need help, you can’t ask for anything better than that, can you?

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