Mentioned here recently being sick- dear God, it was no fun and it came out of nowhere- no known exposure to someone with a stomach virus but, with my job- who knows? It did coincide with being in a patients home that absolutely nauseated me and I had to work up some strength before entering and eat real big before going to their home but not too close so I'd be reminded of why I was hogging out so I'd be OK without eating for 12 hours. When they offered I needed to be able to honestly say,"Oh, no thanks I just pigged out on Chinese" (or whatever). You have to be ready for this because the poorer they are, the more they love, respect and want to take care of you. So they always want to feed you or give you things.
The patient dies this night- catching me off guard, I was sure she had a couple more days and I'm never wrong on this. Everyone from the trailer park comes and says their goodbyes with bloodshot eyes through a fog of cheap beer and cigarette smell. They all also fall against me, sobbing, thanking me profusely for taking care of their Boo Boo (everyone there had a nickname). They're close enough I smell rotted teeth, stale cigarettes and cheap cologne and their tears and dirt literally stain my scrubs with mud. I've never been hugged by a midget - before this night. One offers to sell me a pup- "Her mom and dad have papers!" the owner proudly proclaims. For some reason I hand her a 50 dollar bill for a pup I didn't know then would cost me much more in wormer meds and late night nursing trying to coax the dang thing to live for my children who love it like no other animal we've ever had. The worms were the stuff of X Files or Fringe television shows- 7-8 inches long, smooth- non segmented and smelled fishy. They're also firm feeling and appear lifeless when expelled (even before meds).
I was caught so off guard in this situation I'd brought them a television that night since there's went out during my previous shift. The idea being the patient who was cognizant enough to watch television during my previous shift would have a diversion and the nurse on the other shift would would have something to do when not doing direct care. I left it with the decedents spouse- he can use it more than me and anyway, in his culture it will be currency as good as gold, worth a half a months rent or more.
My head spins as I count drugs with the RN who pronounces the death. She's pretty, funny and sweet- and the type you would have picked even out of scrubs as a nurse- she's just nursely. Family is already arguing over the decedents possessions. There's screaming and shoving. Someone says,"I'll take this." while picking up some yard sale reject. "Like hell, you will!" hisses another through through gritted teeth, while grabbing the object away. The father keeps repeating,"We're not talking about this here and now- wait until morning- wait until after her funeral anyway." Good man, good man he's using my broken record method of conflict mediation I've developed and coached him on when he asked me ,"What will I do when...?" An even tone and hanging onto something that sounds like we'll work something out but, not too committal or provocative will tone the situation down and prevent bloodshed- yes it's happened.
Me and pup drive home in the floaty way you get sometimes just before you get real sick. My stomach burns like there's a Bic lighter right in the middle of my stomach, bend too far and the flame touches the walls of the stomach or the esophagus sending a back draft of flames up the throat which will lead to the inevitable emptying of the meager contents of my inflamed stomach. I feel a little better when Terry Gross says, "I'm Terry Gross and you're listening to Fresh Air" in her breathless way.
At about 3 the next morning my guts are bubbling like the Le Brae tar pits and I race to the bathroom. When I stand up I say,"Man, that looks gross,' And then, raaaaah- the contents of my stomach empty. I dig through the medicine cabinet for any and everything that may help from over the counter meds to old narcotics. Then I have dreams about living with cave dwellers, ballerinas and snakes- always the snakes when I'm crazy. I awaken 16 hours later in such a sweat I can blow it off my mustache and I'm instantly chilled under the ceiling fan.
My muscles ache from disuse and joints hurt from dehydration.
My toes literally hurt from bending them so much when I yakked the night before.
I've been asked,"Who cares for nurses when they're sick?" The answer is really no one because everyone feels too over awed- like there's nothing they can do- even when they try, so it's very lonely.
I'm tired again and need to eat (I've lost 10 or 15 pounds- pants fall down when I put them on)
Would say, more about this later but, I'm not kidding anyone- even myself.
Posts
