Micah 6:6-8

"But he's already made it plain how to live, what to do, what GOD is looking for in men and women. It's quite simple: Do what is fair and just to your neighbor, be compassionate and loyal in your love, And don't take yourself too seriously-take God seriously."







Tuesday, January 26, 2010

Let's recap shall we?

Last night I was sleepily feeding Micah and reading Natalie her bed time stories. I ran my hand through her hair and felt something weird. I parted her hair and was suddenly very wide awake. Their in my little girl's head was a tick. It was awful. As calmly as I could muster, I instructed her to go to the bathroom and I laid Micah down in his crib. I looked again and this time, I could see it's stupid back legs moving. I was verging on melt down. I think I can handle a lot of things, but something with its teeth in my baby is not one of them. I called our friend Emily who is wonderful and came to my house. I called Chris at his meeting and said he had to come home. (He is amazing because he did). Then I called the pediatrician. Now, we are in process of changing peds because we have not been happy. I wasn't sure which office to call because we had records sent to the new one, but they haven't seen either kid yet. I ended up calling both. Here are my conversations...which peds office would you choose for your baby?

I called the old peds office first. The nurse calls me back.
I explain that Natalie has a tick in the middle of her head. This nurse says, "hmmm, well, I forgot my cheat sheet so I'm not sure what to tell you."
Okay...
"Is it big?"
"Yes, it is."
"OK, well that means it's sucking the blood."
"Ahhh"
"No, it okay, this isn't a big deal."
"What do I do?"
"I'm not sure, do you have google?"
(insert here I'm now cussing in my head thinking of course I have google, but I want to know what a doctor says you crazy fool).
"Yes,"
"Well, I think you are supposed to grab the tick with tweezers and turn it clockwise to pull it out, but I'm not sure, so you could google it."

"Isn't there a danger of the head being stuck?"
"yes, but we can get it out tomorrow in the office, or you could leave the tick there and we could take it out tomorrow."
"No, I'm not leaving this blood sucking thing in my child's head all night. Will someone think I'm crazy if I take her to the ER"
"oh, I wouldn't spend the copay on that."
(Insert, I would pay a million dollars to not have this in her head right now)
"Just google it, I'll be curious what they tell you."
"Well, I'm reading it and it says to pull it straight out."
"Do that then."

So I get off the phone with her now even more dazed. I call for medical advice and I'm told to google it. How does she know I wasn't looking at idiots.com?

So by this point, Emily is with me and we decide to call the new office. The nurse, Betty calls me back. This is how that conversation went.

"My daughter has a tick in her head."
"Okay, this is not a big deal, I know it looks bad, but it's okay...do you have tweezers?"
Yes."
"do you have alcohol?"
"yes."
"Okay, get the tweezers as close to her head as possible and pull very slowly and easily straight back. It's very important not to twist it or pull it fast. If you pull slowly it should all come out in one piece. You have to know it's okay if the head does break off, we have special equipment in our office to remove it tomorrow. But you need to try and get it out tonight. The sooner the better to not risk infection."
"okay, my husband is now home so we can do that."
"then put some alcohol on it, the neosporin. Your going to look for infection. If it gets a red bulls eye around it, then you need to bring her straight in. If she has a fever or rash bring her in too, but most likely, she'll be just fine."

Yeah, which office would you choose?

Wednesday, January 13, 2010

Buckle up

I know it's been a while. For my own emotional sanity, I need to just write about the last sixty or so hours.

My float nurse tells me I need to get to her house. I go and the family tells me she's unresponsive. I'm sad, she's one of my favorites. I go in her room and crawl on the bed next to her. She opens her eyes and giggles. Then she asks to sit up. Her daughter was shocked, but we sat her up.

"Am I peculiar?" she says.

"What on earth do you mean?" I said.

"With this dying, the way I'm doing it, at home, with my family, in my bed. Is that peculiar?"

"Well, yes, your peculiar, but not for this." I get a smile. "Everyone writes their story, this is yours..." I tell her.

She asks to lay back down.


Then I sat at his house discussing the emotional turmoil his daughter is going through. "She has experienced so much death lately..." he says. I listen, validate his concerns, review his own prognosis and offer some support. After listening to her for a long while, I catch the conversation my nurse is having. I hear her mention my name. (Never a good sign). I try to wrap up with these people and move on...

"I hope you can get yourself out of wherever you're supposed to be next" says my wonderful, fabulous, RN.

"Why?" says me. :-)

"Because so and so says our patient can't live there anymore and we need to get over there and do something with her."

I tell her I'll meet her there.

I could tell this family this is our patients disease progression until I'm blue in the face. It does no good. They want her out, TODAY.

My nurse and I make that happen. Then we sit on the arms of the chair on either side of her. I look at her cute, tiny, little frame bundled under all those clothes. It amazes me that such a tiny woman can create so much chaos. Her sad eyes barely visible under her pink hat.

"You" she says. "You my angel with the blue eyes. You always come to help me."

Then she sobs.

I move my arm and allow her to curl her body up against mine. She mostly fits there tucked underneath me. I sit and rub her back and pat her. I tell her it's okay and pray that it will be. She finally falls asleep, exhausted resting against me. Then we get her out of there.

Another patient later, six phone calls, I'm madly talking with Chris before he rushes out the door to a board meeting.

A few legos here, some books there, snacks, pajamas, more bedtime stories, prayers with Natalie, bottle for Micah, stories with him, prayer, lay him down, another good night to Natalie, a little Wii fit and I collapse into bed after hearing about a board meeting.

Yesterday starts with our annual meeting, my "peculiar" patient dying, supervisor visiting people with me, and I end my day with a very sad, young patient. Way too much to type.

I just got home when I got a call from so dear friends whose babies just aren't growing like they should. We pack our little family, grab another wonderful friend and head their way. Lots of tears and more prayers. We get back home, do bedtime, and collapse into the chair, not haven eaten but a tiny lunch and no supper at ten.

This morning, I scheduled a less "emotional" day. I had a ton of paperwork to catch up on this week. I was going to see a couple of people who are coping well and then type, type, type.

It's the 5200 number showing on my phone. I'm in the middle of a visit. It can wait.

It's the 5200 number again. Man.

"Hello, can you wait a minute?"

I leave, it's my nurse supervisor. Patients are dying all over the place. Now, I know, when you work for hospice, this is to be expected. But not this many, this suddenly. I need to go help out my co worker who is at another visit, but had a patient die, family's not doing so good.

When I arrive I meet a dear sweet Alzheimer's patient who just lost their spouse. The family attempted to explain, with no luck. We suggest we sit with her and let her tell him goodbye. It was humbling to be present in that room. She got minutes of clarity as she realized he had died. She told him goodbye, she kissed him, she told him memory after memory, as if he'd been the forgetful one for so many years. Not a dry eye in the place. Then she sobbed, with her little body curled against mine too.

More patients, more paperwork, supper on the run, church, and bedtime again. I look around my house and see clean clothes piled in laundry baskets. Dishes in the sink. Dogs who need some love. A house that could use some serious organization. It really doesn't matter. For today, I'm done.

For today, I can honestly say, I've done what I could, I've shown love.

For forever, I think that's all that matters.

Mark 14:8