On the other side of the badge

My grandmother died this morning. My mother and I arrived at the hospital about 10 minutes after she passed. We might have made it on time had we been quicker out the door, or had I not mentioned that we might want to have a copy of her living will available to give to the ER staff, or had we not had to make a "pit stop" due to my mom's "nervous stomach" prior to going into the ER.

Everyone in the ER was professional and kind (and yes, it most certainly is possible to be both, despite the occasional grumbling you hear), from the ER physician who broke the news, the nurse who was sympathetic and understanding, to the chaplain who came and sat with us and comforted my mother with a prayer.

My grandmother's nurse repeatedly assured us that there was no rush, and encouraged us to call any family we needed to and to wait for their arrival. She answered our questions, was open about what went on when my grandmother was brought into the ER (Grandma was unresponsive and slowly worsening as they worked on her, but did not appear to pass in pain, nor was she alone when she died), and was most of all kind.

I can't even really put my finger on what precisely she did to make the whole experience just a little bit better for us, but she did, and I appreciate that so very much.


Thinking back on this morning, that interaction is one of the many, many reasons that I am proud to be a nurse - the skills, the caring, the knowledge required, and so much more. I am proud to be a nurse.

Why yes, I AM rather bad at regular posting, why do you ask?

I've finally realized that I hadn't gotten the settings correct for the blog, so from now on I'll (theoretically) be receiving emails when someone posts a comment to an entry. That way I can actually engage in discussion, be polite and respond to people's kind comments, etc.

As a small update to a previous entry here, the parents of the baby sent us a lovely card with a picture of the baby and a brief update. After months of medication and seeing neurologists, she has been weaned from medication and "cleared" as a normal little girl. She is meeting or exceeding all of her developmental milestones.

I LOVE to hear about NICU graduates. Even when the updates are on babies that predate my employment at my facility, I still love to hear how they are doing, their triumphs, their concerns, and the parents' memories of their time in the NICU.

I am approaching the completion of my second year as a NICU nurse. I can remember the names of each of my long-term primaries/associates. The ones I only cared for a few times before they were discharged or transferred to step down or a home hospital I'm a bit fuzzier on, but when I looked at our "Holiday Card/Update" bulletin board during the holidays, I found that names, faces, and stories did come back to me.

I wonder how well my memory will work in 3 years or more. Will I still be able to remember to details?


To veer off the contemplative path, I received my tax refund the other day. Most of it is already spent, going towards a breastfeeding conference coming up in a few months. The rest is earmarked for some new scrubs and a new pair of shoes. Ah well, it was nice while it lasted.

A near miss, a close call, and the inevitable...

Last night (night of snow/sleet/ice storm) I was almost sent out on a transport call, I was very nearly mandated to return to work for the 11a-3p portion of a sick call's shift (my schedule would have been: a 12 hour shift, four hours off, four hours mandated work, four hours off, and another 12 hour shift), and a was pooped on.

Lovely night. I hear the weather was fun too. It took me 30-35 minutes to make a normally 20 minute drive. Not terrible, certainly, and I took it smooth and slow.

And I got to watch an idiot pass me 'cause he wanted to go faster than my cautious crawl, and proceed to skid out of control into a snowbank. Niiiice.

And I'm back for more tonight.

A tense pause in the action...

While not attempting to get into a stay-at-home vs. working mother debate, I do have one teensy little comment to make...

I think that is it neither appropriate nor kind to say that "mothers who work outside the home are not true mothers at all"... while surrounded by a roomful of nurses taking care of your sick grandchild, many of whom are working mothers themselves.

A thought

You know what must really stink? Being born with herpes on your head.

Yeah, you heard me.

Those special moments

There are occasionally little treats from life in the NICU, like when the withdrawing baby you're caring for finally settles down and snuggles sleepily into your shoulder, turns his face up to yours, looks at you with drooping eyelids... and burps milk breath right in your face.

Check out...

this post. Weirdest thing the blogger has ever seen. It really is quite nifty.