Nurses, as I've often seen proclaimed on T-shirts, book bags, and coffee mugs, are angels without wings. Up until a year ago, I had my own angel. She wasn't a nurse, but my aunt. My mother's closest sister, and the person I was named after, died. She was my second mother, my ally when I needed one, and loved by everyone. My mother, the youngest, of the four sisters, often said, "Joyce was the prettiest of the four girls". Aunt Joyce's beauty was on the inside as well.
My aunt ran a daycare for years. She was an angel to all the children she cared for, and I suspect, their parents as well. Children loved "Miss Joyce". When I was little, I spent summers in South Carolina with her, my uncle, and my cousin. On nights when I was homesick, Aunt Joyce would pull me into her lap and rock me until I felt better. When my mother would tell her I was getting too big for that, my aunt would very nicely tell her I wasn't. Nobody could make a child feel better like she could.
Aunt Joyce had 1 child. Her daughter, Veree, was named after my mom. Veree was my aunt's angel when she became sick. Veree, was selfless in caring for her mother. She had help, and even had hospice care the last year, but Veree's devotion and care for her mother was something I seldom see. Veree is more of a sister to me than a cousin. Even though, as we've gotten older, we have gone long periods of time more involved in our own lives than each other's. We both know that we'll always be there for each other. Veree's daughter, Brooke, was another angel that helped take care of my aunt. She was not only there for my aunt, she was there for my cousin as well.
A year ago, June 11, 2011, my angel received her wings. She isn't with with us anymore, but what she left behind will live on. The kindness she gave, will reach out and touch other lives.I have seen her kindness in my cousin, and in my cousin's daughter. All the little girls and boys who sat in her lap as she rocked away whatever made them sad, have, I feel sure, rocked their own children and thought fondly of "Miss Joyce". She has left an angel legacy.
Sunday, June 10, 2012
Sunday, April 29, 2012
Try Not To Take It Personal
Sometimes in the rush of going here and there and meeting with patients, their families and various facility personnel, it's easy to get mired down in the details of the job. Even forget how incredibly personal the job is, especially to the people that are affected by whatever disease that led them to needing our services in the first place. Maybe forgetting sometimes, is good. Perhaps, that's what allows us to keep doing it.
For me, the past two weeks have been very busy. It wasn't until the middle of this past week, that I had time to regroup, and think. Realizing that most of my patients in the past 2 weeks had been between the ages of 47 and 67. The family members have been getting younger and younger. Sitting across from a son or daughter, or even a patient, and looking into eyes that haven't seen much of life yet, and talking to them about death, had been slowly starting to effect my mood. I'm usually in a pretty good mood. Not Katie Couric perky, but I'm pretty easy going. The end of this week, I found myself irritated about the little things, that don't usually bother me.
Going back to the end of March, I met with a woman. I had noticed from my patient information, about 5 minutes before going into her room, that she was 47. It's a different mind set for me when I'm meeting with someone that is younger. I walked into her room and she was really working hard to breathe, but she was as welcoming to me as she would have been if I had been visiting her home for lunch. I introduced myself and told her where I was from. She had been expecting me. We talked, I explained our services, but she wasn't ready to make her mind up yet. She asked if I could come back the next day. I was seeing her for heart problems, but she had a host of other medical problems as well. She had found out the day before, that her kidneys had failed and, in fact, was going to start dialysis, that very day. She was nervous, and so I stayed and just talked with her for a while. She explained that she had gotten a virus 2 years earlier and it had affected her heart. That had been the beginning of this very long illness. Her personality and positive attitude really touched me. I saw her several times over the next 2 weeks. She got progressively worse. Finally, after fighting a hard fight, she died, and I'm glad we were there for her and her family. She left me a little sad, but also made an impression on me and those that had cared for her in the hospital, as well.
I guess my "breaking point" this week, was the phone conversation I had with a 25 year old young man the other night. He was handling everything for his 57 year old mother. He had just been told by her doctor that she only had "a few days". This kid is a college student. My daughter is a college student. She was taking finals this last week. I asked him when his finals were. His were also going on, only he couldn't be by his mother's side and take finals, so his mother came first. That was the moment the nurse line became blurry and I slipped into mom mode. How could I not? As I explained things to him and asked him questions, he got choked up and said "this is really getting very real now." He wanted some information that I usually show my families. Knowing his age, I knew he would have his laptop. He said he did, so I was able to scan and email him the information and pictures he wanted. For the next hour or so we texted back and forth, and a few phone calls later, we had a plan. He said he felt better. I was glad, but boy were my emotions a wreck! I was thinking that this kid needed a hug. I was thinking, texting him, was no different than when I text my own kids. Also thinking that when I'm 57, my daughter will be 25 too. I will admit, I had myself a nice little cry.
I know that I obviously can't take all of my patient's and their families to heart. It would just be too much. Most of the time, I manage to find that happy medium between doing all that I can for them, and staying emotionally ok for me. I guess getting mired in the details of the job, is just exactly what I need.
For me, the past two weeks have been very busy. It wasn't until the middle of this past week, that I had time to regroup, and think. Realizing that most of my patients in the past 2 weeks had been between the ages of 47 and 67. The family members have been getting younger and younger. Sitting across from a son or daughter, or even a patient, and looking into eyes that haven't seen much of life yet, and talking to them about death, had been slowly starting to effect my mood. I'm usually in a pretty good mood. Not Katie Couric perky, but I'm pretty easy going. The end of this week, I found myself irritated about the little things, that don't usually bother me.
Going back to the end of March, I met with a woman. I had noticed from my patient information, about 5 minutes before going into her room, that she was 47. It's a different mind set for me when I'm meeting with someone that is younger. I walked into her room and she was really working hard to breathe, but she was as welcoming to me as she would have been if I had been visiting her home for lunch. I introduced myself and told her where I was from. She had been expecting me. We talked, I explained our services, but she wasn't ready to make her mind up yet. She asked if I could come back the next day. I was seeing her for heart problems, but she had a host of other medical problems as well. She had found out the day before, that her kidneys had failed and, in fact, was going to start dialysis, that very day. She was nervous, and so I stayed and just talked with her for a while. She explained that she had gotten a virus 2 years earlier and it had affected her heart. That had been the beginning of this very long illness. Her personality and positive attitude really touched me. I saw her several times over the next 2 weeks. She got progressively worse. Finally, after fighting a hard fight, she died, and I'm glad we were there for her and her family. She left me a little sad, but also made an impression on me and those that had cared for her in the hospital, as well.
I guess my "breaking point" this week, was the phone conversation I had with a 25 year old young man the other night. He was handling everything for his 57 year old mother. He had just been told by her doctor that she only had "a few days". This kid is a college student. My daughter is a college student. She was taking finals this last week. I asked him when his finals were. His were also going on, only he couldn't be by his mother's side and take finals, so his mother came first. That was the moment the nurse line became blurry and I slipped into mom mode. How could I not? As I explained things to him and asked him questions, he got choked up and said "this is really getting very real now." He wanted some information that I usually show my families. Knowing his age, I knew he would have his laptop. He said he did, so I was able to scan and email him the information and pictures he wanted. For the next hour or so we texted back and forth, and a few phone calls later, we had a plan. He said he felt better. I was glad, but boy were my emotions a wreck! I was thinking that this kid needed a hug. I was thinking, texting him, was no different than when I text my own kids. Also thinking that when I'm 57, my daughter will be 25 too. I will admit, I had myself a nice little cry.
I know that I obviously can't take all of my patient's and their families to heart. It would just be too much. Most of the time, I manage to find that happy medium between doing all that I can for them, and staying emotionally ok for me. I guess getting mired in the details of the job, is just exactly what I need.
Saturday, March 24, 2012
My Hero....
I meet so many interesting people on a daily basis. My friends, that know me well, know I have a soft spot for seniors and our veterans. Especially the WWII vets. WWII has been romanticized in the movies to be sure, and I certainly enjoy a good WWII movie on a lazy Sunday afternoon. The men were more handsome, and the women were elegant or gutsy, depending on the movie your watching. The sad reality is, we don't have a lot of these national heroes left. When they are gone, another piece of our history is relegated to the history books only. That is one reason I enjoy meeting these men and women. I have met so many wonderful men and women that have served our country. I could listen to their stories for hours. I have met a Tuskegee Airman, fighter pilots, D-Day nurses and a host of others.
One particular Saturday when I was scheduled to work, my first appointment of the day was with an 87 year old gentleman. The information that I had on the patient indicated he was married, but I really didn't have much information going into the appointment. When I got to the patient's home, an older man answered the door. I could tell he had been a handsome young man, he still was. I assumed that this person was a friend or relative of the person I was there to see. I introduced myself and he did the same. To my surprise, this was my patient. He was the best, most healthy looking 87 year old that I had ever seen. I was feeling a little confused as he invited me in and led me to his kitchen to sit down. He got a phone call right after we sat down and excused himself to answer it. As I waited, I looked around. There were framed family pictures on the wall, he had children's art work on the cabinet doors in the kitchen and little notes written in crayon declaring he was the "best grandpa in the world". There were birthday cards and drawn pictures, also from children, on his bulletin board. I could see the main living room from where I was sitting and I noticed a few framed photos of military jets, and furniture that was Asian in design. This was a military man. He finished his phone call and sat down with me. We chatted for a few minutes about the weather, and what a nice view he had from his kitchen. Finally, I asked him what had prompted a call for a hospice evaluation. He explained that he had recently been diagnosed with cancer. He was feeling good and he had heard from friends how helpful hospice was "when the time came." He had discussed everything with his wife and kids and decided that he probably wanted hospice, but first he wanted to hear about it. After hearing about the services we offer, he told me that he was going to get some treatment to see if it would help, but if it didn't he would be back in touch. He explained that he was trying to take care of everything now, so his wife wouldn't have to worry, or take care of it later. He and his wife had been married 64 years. He said "she's off shopping right now, I didn't want her having to deal with this." He was very casual and matter of fact about everything. Not that he didn't get it, he did, but this was a man that very definitely had not spent his 87 years sitting around waiting for things to happen. He took control of all aspects of his life.
I asked him if he had been in the service. I already knew the answer, I had noticed the military ring he was wearing. He had been a fighter pilot in the Air Force. Well, now he had my undivided attention. He invited me to see his trophy room. As he led me to this room, he explained that he had been in the Air Force for 40 years, and had lived all over the world and collected a lot of things. His "trophy room", in my mind, was more like a mini museum. He had pictures of himself from the time he went into the Air Force, all the way to retirement. He had pictures of planes/jets he had flown, as well as a model jet he had put together. He had shrapnel from a bombing of the building he had worked in, in the 60's, and he told me the story of what had happened. A pair of leather gloves were hanging from a nail on the wall. I asked him about them, and he explained that when you were flying, you needed protection for your hands. He had bought those gloves right after he started flying, and worn them on every mission. There were also framed pictures, pictures of places, people, and various military jets. Also in this room was a desk and computer. You don't see a lot of 87 year old people that have a computer set up.
I asked him if he had written any of his stories down for his children and grandchildren. He said he had and then started going through a pile of papers next to his desk. Saying, he knew he had "it" somewhere. He came up with a manuscript of his story. Except it was more than just a few stories written down, it was the story of his life. Complete with excerpts from a diary he had kept during the war, and photos. He told me he had typed it up, had it bound, and he had given a copy to his kids and grand kids. What he showed me was the original copy with all the edits, corrections, and coffee stains. I looked through it, read a little and handed it back and thanked him for taking the time to show me everything,and for his years of service. Then, even though I went to his house to hopefully make a difference in his life, he made a difference in mine. He gave me that original manuscript, and apologized that it was in such bad shape. To say I was touched, would be an understatement. I was actually choked up. Here was a man that didn't even know I existed 2 hours prior to that, had a family that obviously loved him, and he was giving me this piece of his life. This was a man that had served our country for 40 years, who took care of the business of dying, so his wife of 64 years wouldn't have to and was "the best grandpa in the world". This man is also now, my hero.
One particular Saturday when I was scheduled to work, my first appointment of the day was with an 87 year old gentleman. The information that I had on the patient indicated he was married, but I really didn't have much information going into the appointment. When I got to the patient's home, an older man answered the door. I could tell he had been a handsome young man, he still was. I assumed that this person was a friend or relative of the person I was there to see. I introduced myself and he did the same. To my surprise, this was my patient. He was the best, most healthy looking 87 year old that I had ever seen. I was feeling a little confused as he invited me in and led me to his kitchen to sit down. He got a phone call right after we sat down and excused himself to answer it. As I waited, I looked around. There were framed family pictures on the wall, he had children's art work on the cabinet doors in the kitchen and little notes written in crayon declaring he was the "best grandpa in the world". There were birthday cards and drawn pictures, also from children, on his bulletin board. I could see the main living room from where I was sitting and I noticed a few framed photos of military jets, and furniture that was Asian in design. This was a military man. He finished his phone call and sat down with me. We chatted for a few minutes about the weather, and what a nice view he had from his kitchen. Finally, I asked him what had prompted a call for a hospice evaluation. He explained that he had recently been diagnosed with cancer. He was feeling good and he had heard from friends how helpful hospice was "when the time came." He had discussed everything with his wife and kids and decided that he probably wanted hospice, but first he wanted to hear about it. After hearing about the services we offer, he told me that he was going to get some treatment to see if it would help, but if it didn't he would be back in touch. He explained that he was trying to take care of everything now, so his wife wouldn't have to worry, or take care of it later. He and his wife had been married 64 years. He said "she's off shopping right now, I didn't want her having to deal with this." He was very casual and matter of fact about everything. Not that he didn't get it, he did, but this was a man that very definitely had not spent his 87 years sitting around waiting for things to happen. He took control of all aspects of his life.
I asked him if he had been in the service. I already knew the answer, I had noticed the military ring he was wearing. He had been a fighter pilot in the Air Force. Well, now he had my undivided attention. He invited me to see his trophy room. As he led me to this room, he explained that he had been in the Air Force for 40 years, and had lived all over the world and collected a lot of things. His "trophy room", in my mind, was more like a mini museum. He had pictures of himself from the time he went into the Air Force, all the way to retirement. He had pictures of planes/jets he had flown, as well as a model jet he had put together. He had shrapnel from a bombing of the building he had worked in, in the 60's, and he told me the story of what had happened. A pair of leather gloves were hanging from a nail on the wall. I asked him about them, and he explained that when you were flying, you needed protection for your hands. He had bought those gloves right after he started flying, and worn them on every mission. There were also framed pictures, pictures of places, people, and various military jets. Also in this room was a desk and computer. You don't see a lot of 87 year old people that have a computer set up.
I asked him if he had written any of his stories down for his children and grandchildren. He said he had and then started going through a pile of papers next to his desk. Saying, he knew he had "it" somewhere. He came up with a manuscript of his story. Except it was more than just a few stories written down, it was the story of his life. Complete with excerpts from a diary he had kept during the war, and photos. He told me he had typed it up, had it bound, and he had given a copy to his kids and grand kids. What he showed me was the original copy with all the edits, corrections, and coffee stains. I looked through it, read a little and handed it back and thanked him for taking the time to show me everything,and for his years of service. Then, even though I went to his house to hopefully make a difference in his life, he made a difference in mine. He gave me that original manuscript, and apologized that it was in such bad shape. To say I was touched, would be an understatement. I was actually choked up. Here was a man that didn't even know I existed 2 hours prior to that, had a family that obviously loved him, and he was giving me this piece of his life. This was a man that had served our country for 40 years, who took care of the business of dying, so his wife of 64 years wouldn't have to and was "the best grandpa in the world". This man is also now, my hero.
Monday, February 27, 2012
What's in a name?
When I told my children I was going to write a blog, my 19 year old daughter's reaction was a simple texted reply, "OMG". My almost 17 year old son's response was, "don't write about me", and the 14 year old just gave me a look that only 14 year old boys can give. I will say, he was willing to help me set up the whole thing if I needed help. After promising not to write about them, or anything else "stupid", it's been a non-issue for everybody but me. The reason for this blog and specifically the name all has to do with my job.
My life has changed in the last few years. The reasons are many, and yet, all the same. I am a nurse. To be exact, I am a hospice nurse. I’m not one of those angels that comes to the bedside and eases suffering and gives emotional support at the very end of a life, but I am the nurse that makes all of those things possible. I am the one the patient and/or family meets with after they have spoken to the doctor and heard those terrible words, "there's nothing else we can do". When I meet a patient or family we are strangers. After spending a few hours with them, I know medical history, financial information, including all their financial problems, I know about their family interactions, good and bad. I know more about them than most of their closest friends probably know. Everyone is dying, these are the people that have a better idea of when that will be. Their reactions, their loved ones reactions, these are the things that make an impression on a person, on me. I meet the most interesting people all the time and I will tell their stories.
The things I've learned since I started this job are what prompted the title for this blog. I've had many revelations in the past few years. Some pleasant, others, practical, but I hope they have all made me a better person. Everyday is a confirmation of what a really blessed life I have. I am healthy, my husband and children are healthy. I am very thankful. Expectations, the people I see everyday have so many expectations. They have expectations that we will keep them out of pain, that they won't have to go thru it alone, that they won't be too much of a burden on the people they love, oh so many expectations. Seeing what these people are going through, honestly, sometimes scares me. I have expectations too. I don't want to ever go through what these people are going through, obviously. I don't want anyone I know, or love to go through these things. That leads me right back to the revelation that there are a lot of things I have control over. I will do what I need to do to stay healthy. There are also things that only God has control over. I believe that. That is my confirmation that all will proceed exactly as it is supposed to. My expectations that I will deal with whatever comes my way keep me motivated to kind of pay that forward.
**Please know, at no time will I ever speak of any of these people by name or violate their privacy. My stories will be to honor them and tell how their lives have touched mine.
My life has changed in the last few years. The reasons are many, and yet, all the same. I am a nurse. To be exact, I am a hospice nurse. I’m not one of those angels that comes to the bedside and eases suffering and gives emotional support at the very end of a life, but I am the nurse that makes all of those things possible. I am the one the patient and/or family meets with after they have spoken to the doctor and heard those terrible words, "there's nothing else we can do". When I meet a patient or family we are strangers. After spending a few hours with them, I know medical history, financial information, including all their financial problems, I know about their family interactions, good and bad. I know more about them than most of their closest friends probably know. Everyone is dying, these are the people that have a better idea of when that will be. Their reactions, their loved ones reactions, these are the things that make an impression on a person, on me. I meet the most interesting people all the time and I will tell their stories.
The things I've learned since I started this job are what prompted the title for this blog. I've had many revelations in the past few years. Some pleasant, others, practical, but I hope they have all made me a better person. Everyday is a confirmation of what a really blessed life I have. I am healthy, my husband and children are healthy. I am very thankful. Expectations, the people I see everyday have so many expectations. They have expectations that we will keep them out of pain, that they won't have to go thru it alone, that they won't be too much of a burden on the people they love, oh so many expectations. Seeing what these people are going through, honestly, sometimes scares me. I have expectations too. I don't want to ever go through what these people are going through, obviously. I don't want anyone I know, or love to go through these things. That leads me right back to the revelation that there are a lot of things I have control over. I will do what I need to do to stay healthy. There are also things that only God has control over. I believe that. That is my confirmation that all will proceed exactly as it is supposed to. My expectations that I will deal with whatever comes my way keep me motivated to kind of pay that forward.
**Please know, at no time will I ever speak of any of these people by name or violate their privacy. My stories will be to honor them and tell how their lives have touched mine.
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