Life as a Nurse

Often people ask me to tell them stories about being a nurse. They want to know the stuff that would make me vomit, they want to know what i saw that was so cool, they want to know all the highlights of what if must be like. Whenever i'm asked that questions i never know how to respond. For some reason at those moments i can never think of any cool stories to tell about my job. I usually turn to my hubby Jason and ask him to retell stories i've told him. Tonight i think i realized why i can't remember my stories. Some are just to painful.

Like the time i was in the OR during a code neo on a brand new baby boy. Standing next to the dad who was laying on a stretcher, unable to stand at the thought of his brand new, what was perfect baby boy, trying to be saved by multiple people. He later died at Childrens...

Or the time i had to tell a family that their mother didn't make it.

Or the other time i had to tell a family their father/grandpa didn't make it.

Or tonight...

Tonight i'm doing house supervisor. Which sounds great, but usually is quit boring. It most days/nights is running to the kitchen to get tube feedings, or to stores to grab supplies for inserting a catheter. Or helping resolve a dispute, or dealing with staffing issues. But this shift is different.

I came on at 7 pm and a code blue was called at 9pm. I go to all the codes called to help out where i can and make sure all the people are there to help the patient to the best of our ability. This patient had an unfortuante situation. As a result of massive blood thinners, she needed brain surgery right away and was taken to the OR. The husband was given a very grim report and told to wait...

I went about my round in the hospital and he happend to walk into the OR waiting area and asked what he was supposed to do. I showed him the waiting room and sat there with him for awhile...a long while..

I could leave. This poor man could hardly mutter a sentence about what he was feeling but i couldn't bear to leave him alone. He kept asking me what he was supposed to do when she died. I kept telling him to wait till the surgery was over to take one minute at a time. He was also worried about his son who is a crack addict and that he was going to try and commit suicide tonight. I just sat there with this man. Not saying a word. But my presence was hopefully helpful to him.

So i realized why i don't have any cool stories to tell when people ask. Because sometimes my job is to tough to retell. Sometimes i want to go home and kiss my kids and forget about the hurting people i tried to help. Or the stories that are in my head. Somtimes being a nurse isn't about the stories that we get to retell, but about the lives we've touched and tried to help. Sometimes it's a really tough job...