I would like to tell people how I assessed my fourth client today using the same tool and how I am getting a hang of it already. I would like to tell them how difficult it is to assess a client who cannot speak because of an Endotracheal tube and can only communicate through gestures and writing. But instead, I want to tell them how distressing it is to be conscious and feeling the discomfort of tubes attached to your body, how frustrating it is to try to speak but you just can’t, to try to be understood but could not completely be.
.
I would also like to tell people how student nurses can at times be inefficient in the area, how surprisingly; they haven’t completely mastered some of the basics such as abbreviations used in the diagnosis and they still need to hone their skills and time management more. I would like them to know that I saw a seizure episode but I am was sure if it really is. I would like to tell them how we failed to get the air bubbles out of the IV tubing and felt so small after our preceptor showed us a simple trick and successfully got rid of the bubbles in a bat of an eyelash. But instead, I would tell them how hard it is to supervise five students and how big the responsibility of a clinical instructor is. I want to tell them of the pressure that one feels to be always on top of the game, to be always ahead of the others and to impart to them all that you have for them to become better and inspire them to be. I realized how hard it is to make sure you are better than the students so that you won’t feel embarrassed that you are not any other different than them. I want to tell them that I can’t help but think if we were also like that when we were senior students in the area. I would like to tell people that I have also tried to do the trick to get the bubbles out and successfully did. I would tell them I learned something new, no matter how simple it is. I learned.
.
I would also like to tell people how I watched a patient die today. I would like to tell them that I was hesitant at first to assert that I would like to try doing CPR up to the point that it was misinterpreted that I don’t want to. I would like them to know that my forearms hurt from Ambu bagging and CPR takes my breath away, literally. But instead, I would want to tell people how I felt hope during every chest compression that I made, how I tried to straighten my elbows and pushed my weight on him and how I watched every quiver of his heart from the heart monitor. I would like to tell them that I saw this client for a month now since I started being a research assistant and I saw how his physical condition deteriorate. I was planning to assess him as my fifth client before he stepped in the line of death. I would like to tell them how hard it is to decide for the life of a young man, a man who has his own story to tell, a man who will leave those stories with the many people who is significant to him. I would like to tell them of the moment when his girlfriend held his hand and encouraged him to listen to her and to fight. I was not sure if it broke everybody’s heart but it sure left a sting on mine. I watched tracings on his heart monitor, trying to decipher what ECG reading it is but I can’t. I don’t know how. All I know is every quiver signifies hope. Every quiver means life.
.
Such is life. Lines are not always straight. Poems do not always rhyme. Maybe life is just about shockwaves and quivers because it is not perfect. It should not be. Life would only be perfect if those quivers end up as flat lines, because it is then that we will know, we are in better hands.
.
Expect the unexpected. This is a day inside a critical care unit.
.
Love and Bliss!
.
August 26, 2009
0 comments:
Post a Comment