Today I sat next to The Slurper on the parking shuttle at the hospital.
Sluuuuuuuurp….aaaaahhhhhh
Slllllllllluuuuuuuuuuuuurrrrp…mmmmmmm
Sluuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuurp… aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaahhhhh
Sllllllllllllllllllllllllluuuuuuuuuuuuuurrrrp…aaaaaaaaaaaahhhhh
That must have been one satisfying cup of coffee.
“Officer! Officer! Thank God you’re here! She has a gun!”
There was never a dull moment on 5 South. As a med-surg nurse, it was one of my most demanding assignments. The unit was comprised of 33 private rooms, and on night shift was staffed by 3 RN’s and 1 nursing assistant. Each night I was extremely busy attending to my 11 patients with the not-at-all-helpful, new-grad-hating, nurses aid. She was supposed to spend a third of her time assisting my patients, but somehow was never around when I needed her. So I ran from 7 p.m to 7 a.m. taking only a few minutes to stop to chart now and then. But one night I would find myself running more than usual.
At the beginning of my shift, I went from my sickest patient to the patient who was most stable. When it came time to pop into room 511, I was greeted by a darling elderly man, Mr. Stevens, who had been admitted for congestive heart failure.
“Hey, there sweetie, come join me on the porch,” he said in a charming voice.
Yep—Just as the night shift had reported, Mr. Stevens was confused.
“Well, hi there. I’m Julie and I’m your nurse here on 5 South. How are you feeling tonight, Mr. Stevens?”
“I’m mighty fine, I was just sitting here thinking about those wonderful tomatoes that you grow. How I would like some of them right now,” he said wistfully.
Whew, yep, really confused.
During my assessment, I made sure that Mr. Stevens’ Posey restraint vest was secure. This vest was made of soft fabric and long straps that wrapped around his chest and were then tied to metal bars underneath the bed. The Posey vest would help keep Mr. Stevens safely in bed for the night.
After I settled him for the evening, I went off to care for my other patients. It was a busy night, as usual, but every hour or so I made my rounds and spent some time with Mr. Stevens.
At 05:30 in the morning, I was sitting alone at the nurse’s station while my colleagues were all attending to their own patients. We rarely saw each other on any given shift, except when we hunted each other down to help each other with tasks such as helping turn a patient in bed, or witness wasting unused narcotics.
Head down, pen to paper, I was hurriedly charting when I heard a man’s voice out in the hallway. Quickly jumping up from my chair, I stepped out… and there he stood, Posey vest hanging, patient gown open in the back, flapping in the wind…Mr. Stevens!
“Where’s my wife?” he said in an angry, raised voice, “I want to go home!”
As he spoke, his entire 6’4” frame swayed forward and backward, and was at serious risk for a fall. Despite his height, he was no hulk of a man—in fact, he was quite frail.
“Mr. Stevens, let me help you back to your room. You look like you are going to fall,”
I said as I moved in to help steady him.
Big mistake!
My reach only made things worse, as he jerked back and came extremely close to loosing his balance.
“Get my wife!” he shouted, trying to steady himself.
But he quickly tipped backwards again, teetering on his heels. Reflexively, I put my hand out again to stop his fall. This time, though, he bobbed forward and swung at me. As I stepped back, Mr. Stevens reached to his right and grabbed my clipboard from the ledge of the window to the nurse’s station.
His face was a purple rage now, and it was aimed right at me!
“Get away from me!” he bellowed, lunging and swinging the clipboard wildly at me.
I stepped back just as he swung the wooden clipboard right at my head, barely missing. I turned on a dime, and started sprinting down the hall like Marion Jones being chased by an Olympic official with a urine collection cup.
But Mr. Stevens was in pursuit, not far behind. I felt the clipboard whiz by my ear.
Swooooooosh!
Jekyll and Hyde was gaining on me.
Swooooooosh!
Another close one.
Just ahead, I saw a door to the utility room that would lead us into an obstacle course I thought I could win. Yanking open the door, I darted in and zigzagged around the supply-filled metal utility racks and out another door at the opposite end of the room. Looking back was not an option, I just ran.
The door led to another corridor and once again I found myself at the nurse’s station, but this time at the back entrance. I scurried in. The other nurses were still occupied in their rooms, so I picked up the phone and dialed 9-1-1.
“Hospital Security, what’s your emergency?”
“This is Julie from 5 South, I have a ‘Code Gray!’ An agitated patient is trying to harm me!”
“We’ll send someone right away,” they responded and hung up.
Looking around for a safe place to hide, I saw a table that would give me a vantage point to all doors. If Mr. Stevens was stalking me, I would be able to see him first and flee in the opposite direction.
My breath heavy and my heart racing, I hid for the next two minutes.
In the distance I could hear the distinct jingling of brass keys and rapid footsteps.
And then…
“Officer! Officer! Thank God you’re here!
She has a gun!” the demented Mr Stevens sobbed.
“It’s okay sir, I’m here now,” the kind officer soothed. “Everything is going to be alright.”
Since my presence would only further agitate Mr. Stevens, I wisely stayed out of sight. It was sad to think that, through his confusion, this poor man was genuinely concerned for his life. It was no wonder that he was trying to snuff out mine.
My charge nurse appeared in the hallway and helped the security guard get my elderly patient back into bed, easing Houdini back into his Posey and adding a couple of soft restraints to his wrists for good measure.
There were no more treatments or medications scheduled for Mrs. Stevens that morning, so I continued to observe him closely for the next couple of hours. Peering in, I could see his long, spindly fingers constantly working at the straps and knots, as he plotted his next great escape.
Thankfully, aside from the Demerol I administered to Mrs. Lawrence in 516, no one got shot that night.
Really, when you take just this last point into perspective, all of the ins and outs of my week are not so very significant.
I am looking to Paul's example.
Knowing that I have put my hope in the One I can trust, I am striving to find contentment in all circumstances.
Meet the new member of our family.
Emma!
She's an 8 week old West Highland Terrier.
Sweet~
Yesterday I went to work and helped out some sweet ladies with complicated pregnancies. I got out of work late because I wanted to prepare for the arrival of a lovely family who will likely say "hello" and "goodbye" to their precious baby on her birthday, today. Planning ahead can really make a huge difference for my families who are the anticipating a sweet, but mostly heart wrenching experience of the birth of a critically ill baby.
(They can certainly use many prayers)
As I left the hospital, I pulled out my cell phone to call my hubby. My voice sounded odd to my own ears. The thought went through my mind, "Am I tired? I sound exhausted."
Well, within 5 minutes it became clear to me that, no, it was not exhaustion, I was going into an allergic reaction. As I was only a few minutes from my own hospital, I decide to turn the car around and head back. An Epipen is a must for my purse, so I pulled it out, just in case things worsened.
Thankfully, I had not driven far, so I arrived quickly. There were no parking spaces, so I pulled into an ambulance spot and dashed into the Emergency Room. At this point, I was in anaphylaxis. My voice was thick and raspy. My chest was tight and it was getting hard to breath.
I tell you what...it's a good way to get taken immediately into a room. Let's just say, I caught their attention.
But what triggered me yesterday? Not really sure. Something in the air...maybe it was the carpet cleaner that I passed as I zipped through the halls at the end of my long day.
Well, I must say, I could title this post:
"Vanity or Breathing. A difficult choice."
You see, 2 weeks ago I mentioned to my allergist/immunologist that I thought that my light steroid was making me fat (In general, and in weird places, like my wrists). Things had been going great since November with my allergy, so I asked what he thought of going down a bit on my dose.
Two words:BIG mistake!
This may become my new look:
Do you like it?
So, please
It was a big hit.
You can see the kids dashing about,
having a great time.
Felt well enough, after sleeping from 8 a.m. to 12 noon, to go see my family.
That was a real highlight.
The Princess wilted as the day progressed and now I am medicating her for a terrible asthmatic cough.
Oh darn!
But, when I keep sight on what Jesus did for us; the suffering he endured… the ups and downs of my day hardly seem important.
I hope you had a wonderful Easter!
Spring break has been tons of fun!
I am now going to settle in and enjoy your latest posts ")
You can swap stories, you can swap wives, you can swap babies at birth, you can even go to a swap meet…but can you swap blogs?
Well, that’s exactly what we’re going to attempt here: This week, wife.mom.nurse and Switch 2 Plan B (AKA “Fire Hubby”) are trading blogs.
“Fire Hubby” (that’s me) will be writing this week’s posting here on wife.mom.nurse, while my wonderful wife Julie will be posting over on my site—and no doubt telling some really embarrassing story about me there.
Click HERE to see what she's got to say...
I understand that baby stories are popular here at wife.mom.nurse, so I’m going to tell you the ONE baby story she won’t tell you! It’s the true tale (mostly) of the time Julie delivered her own first-born.
***
I came home one morning after a long shift at the fire station to find my young bride obviously bursting with some pressing secret.
“I have something for you,” she said with a mischievous grin. “Close your eyes.”
When I opened them again, she was holding up a denim jacket—a really, really small blue denim jacket, better suited for a Cabbage Patch doll than her six foot-tall husband.
But if you give a fireman a moment or two, he can usually figure out the plainly obvious. See, only about a week or two earlier we had decided to start our family. Now, this was my wife’s way of letting me know that the magic stick had clearly turned blue already. The tiny Levi’s jacket meant we were expecting our first child.
It must have been strange for wife.nurse to transition to wife.mom.nurse. After working on the labor and delivery unit for six years by then, she would now go through the experience for herself: the barfing, the cravings, the bloating, the labor pains—the entire blessed event that, nine months later, would be swaddled in a bundle of joy and sewn up as tidy as an episiotomy.
(to be continued)
Our plan for a great day Monday:
Hop aboard the Metrolink to LA Union Station
Take the Red Line (subway) to Universal City
(This mode of transportation is a first for us in LA. Just for the traveling adventure)
Take a shuttle to Universal Studios
Meet up with Firedaddy who is driving to Hollywood after his shift
Have a day of fun
I was on "A Baby Story."
My Tiny Princess
Don't Blink
You May Miss Moments Like This
