Finally, I'm back

It's been awhile. I don't think I need to explain. Grad school, divorce, thesis, work, Life. I'm finally me again. I have to put a shout out to one of my current students. Thank you. You reminded me of who I am. Note: interaction is not word for word. Him: "Hey, I don't want to be weird, but I think I read your blog" Me: "Oh yeah?" (Oh god what the hell was my last entry) Him: "Yeah, it was a huge reason I wanted to do this program." Me: Stunned. "Thanks" (held back tears...If only you knew the shit I've been through and the stupid mistakes I've made and the multiple times I've jeopardized everything). I'm so bad with names. I am still trying desperately to get his name. His nametag is flipped around every time he's in my group. Dammit. So, here I am. The ARRRR N. Now an (AG)ACNP-BC (so many letters!) who is teaching the youth not to eat their young. Teaching. I love it. I'm me again. My students are awesome. But I think they all are. Side note: this post coincides with Robin William's suicide. I have been on that brink, even as recently as a year ago. I cannot tell you how much it breaks my heart that he listened to his demons, but in a sad way I understand. Today, I was very sad while entering work. One of my docs and I had a long conversation about demons. He had a fight with a friend the night before. I had fought with someone I love. We laughed. He said, "You know, I am so outside of myself while I'm here. It's like a drug. I escape my reality by taking care of others. Instead of cocaine, and I've been there- I'm here, escaping into other peoples' lives." Yeah. I get that. We hugged. I took the next patient. She needed what we call "a turkey sandwich and a hug." Some days, yup, that's all you gotta give. It's nice to be back, standing on my feet. Solid.

October, overwhelming.

Healthy or paralyzing fear?

Depends on the day. This program is a huge step up in everything that we're doing, and I really love what I'm learning. The stark realization of responsibility hits me every 15 minutes or so and I find myself nearly panicking - then I remind myself that there are two years left and I'm just beginning this program, and somehow I head back into studying.

Yeah, it's exciting. Sometimes I look around while at UCSF and I can't believe I'm there. It's everything I've ever worked for, and I'm doing it.

So many changes in life- it's amazing what a mere 8 weeks will teach someone. Burning Man was pivotal for me in so many aspects; I loved being a med supervisor and really connected with a group of EMS personnel who are just as goofy and fun-loving as I am. They were people who listen to each others' stories, understand one another. I felt more at home than I have in a while. And the gifts that the Playa provided! I can't even begin to articulate my experiences from this year, because they were so profound. Returning home from Black Rock City, I felt as though my lessons continued, and I felt ready to embrace life in a way I haven't for a very long time. I felt alive again. I still feel that. And I knew some changes had to occur. Which brings me to: Will is most likely moving to LA, where his world, life, work exists. He travels all the time for work, which is great- he's awesome at what he does. But leaves me alone. A lot. I think he's been home at the most 10 days in a row this year. Yes, what does that mean? I'll deal with that later. I can't even begin with that one.

All I can say is that in this past year, I've been lonelier than ever. But that's about to change.

Suffice to say I'm glad I'm in school, where I can get lost in learning.

Here we go.

New, new, new.

Everything is new. I'm getting inundated with emails from school for stuff I need for my Master's degree. I started a new job. I work days, mids, whatever I want and make a little more money. I'm in a new ED. New doctors. New system. New everything.

At Burning Man: new camp (we're not running a theme camp this year). New place to camp. New position in ESD- transitioning from volunteering to being really involved. Out there for two weeks- I've never done that. New, new, new.

A little overwhelming but it's going okay.

Reminding myself to take a timeout to breathe.

Anniversaries and such.

That's the Iron Door Saloon, in Groveland, CA. It's the oldest bar in California, and you might recognize it as "that place I stop into on Highway 120 on the way to Yosemite." We Tuolumne River guides recognize it as "the closest place to get a beer" and "Karaoke Night" (aka Thursdays in the summer time).

It's also where Will and I met.

In fact, it's also where we had our first kiss.

August is full of anniversary stuff for us; for example, we first kissed on August 3rd. How do I remember that? Because our friend Chelsey had an epic birthday party that happened to fall on a karaoke night (Thursday) at the Iron Door Saloon, and it was amazing that we all were able to guide the next day. We took a group of 25-35 year old tech gurus from Chicago down the river on a two-day trip leaving the next morning, and it was probably one of the most memorable trips in my 15 years of guiding. Will wasn't on that trip, but we ran out of beer by 5pm (the rafting guests drank ALL of it by 5pm) and then ran out of wine by 6pm. So what did we do? Naturally, we used the satellite phone to call the ONE person we knew would be up for a mission: Will. He hiked in 4 handles of rum and 8 liters of mixer with his guitar and made it to our camp by 9pm. I remember the entire group cheering as they saw his headlamp bobbing down the trail from Groveland to Indian Creek on the Tuolumne. He then stayed and played songs until midnight, hiked out and worked a one-day trip (18 miles of river in one day), took out from the water with us AND was our bus driver due to his Class B license at the time.
Epic.
He's kind of awesome that way.
That was one of the coolest instances in our relationship

Also in August was our first trip to Burning Man, also known as Black Rock City, Nevada, also known as The Playa (not pronounced "player" but "plie-yah"). It's where we fell in love, it's where we got engaged, and we also got married at the temple there last year, dressed as Unicorns, by our friend and reverend "Pastor Prime" (get it- past her prime? nyuck nycuk nyuck).


See?

August was awesome.
And for those who might be wondering, October is our "default world" anniversary, where we got married in the state of California and made it all legal and stuff with our families.

September, however, will be tough for anniversaries.

What some of you may or may not know is that on Sept 24th of 2010, Will was supposed to be leaving for his bachelor party. It was a Friday. I was driving on Highway 80 towards Roseville, having decided to go check out lingerie and maybe go have a night with my girlfriends in Truckee.
Will called me, "Nicole, Paul is dead."
"What? Don't say that. It's not true."
"Nicole, he shot himself this morning. Justine found him."
I immediately pulled over on the highway and vomited.

Paul was Will's best friend, our best man, and was deeply in love with Justine.
I didn't blog about it last year because I didn't know what to say. I still don't. Paul was one of the most amazing people I knew: he was an expert river guide who, even with a below the knee amputation, could run faster down a river bank, could guide crazy Class V heck even Class VI rapids, and could do more than the average person ever dreamed of. He was larger than life. He was incredibly loving. I remember when he took me and Will aside and showed us the ring he was going to give Justine later that week, and the sparkle in his eyes, and how excited he was. I don't remember a Paul who was depressed. I don't remember a Paul who would ever have left this world intentionally.
Here's how I remember him (he's in the dark t-shirt, Will is closest):



We went to his funeral the weekend before our wedding.

Paul and Justine's wedding anniversary was October 11th. Ours is October 10th. We had kind of planned it that way, and had spoken about celebrating together over the course of our lives.
That's gone now.

It was horrible. It still is horrible. Nobody will ever know why. Many of us blame ourselves for not seeing something sooner.
Having to go forward with a major celebration of love when one is grieving is emotionally confusing. Trying to support Will in losing his best friend when I've lost a friend, too, is a balancing act. And then there's the fact that when I write about all of this, I feel like the vocabulary is lacking.
I feel selfish on so many levels- I wish we had a wedding that wasn't overshadowed by grief. We celebrated, but we were definitely subdued. I wish that Will had actually been able to go on his bachelor party- he's planned so many for other people and was so excited to have had one for himself. He deserved that.
And I wish Justine had Paul back. She is one of the most amazing women I've ever met, and her grace in all of this chaos has been impeccable. I cannot imagine the hell she has been through.
And then I know my feelings and my grief, and yet, I still feel selfish for wishing it had never happened.
But it did happen. And I'm angry and sad and mad at myself for being angry, and feel powerless in the wake of all of this death.
And I can see how much it's affected our relationship (Will and I) over the past year. To say that "Things have been hard" is an understatement.
And I don't know how any relationship can survive something like that.

Sometimes I still have trouble taking care of people who are 5150'd in the ER. I had a woman wake up, intubated, after trying to overdose on benzodiazapines, and when she realized her husband was there, she started crying out of shame for what she had done and relief that she was alive. She got help.

I wish I could have helped my friend.

So, yeah. Anniversaries. Some are beautiful and meant to be celebrated. And some are laced with incredible sadness. This time last year, my friend was still alive. This time last year, Will's best friend was still alive.

People can throw quotes at you all day long and can offer hugs and reassurance, but nothing, NOTHING takes the place of that person in your heart.

This year at Burning Man we will have the Temple of Transition. I have a lot to bring to it, and I know where my heart will be as I watch it fall.

Teaching.

That photo is off my boat on the Grand Canyon, which was a sweet trip.

Full circle. Two years after starting the MEPN program, I'm now lucky enough and crazy enough to help teach new MEPNs. I'm river guiding rarely, working as a nurse in the Emergency Department a LOT, and teaching to really fill my soul.

I never knew how much I'd love teaching.

I also never knew how frightened I'd be to re-enter the Master's portion of this program.

So, I had to leave my Level 1 Trauma Center job in order to teach, so now I work at a Level 2 Trauma Center, hopefully going to be splitting a dual appointment with the Emergency Department and perhaps the PICC/IV team. Days, thankfully. I work DAYS. Sweet.

Night shift made me insane.
But that's not what I'm here to blog about.

I wanted to talk about teaching. It's been challenging, for sure. I watch the new students get so excited about the smallest part of nursing they get to experience. I watch their faces light up when they help a patient make a small achievement for the day- and for me, that's the real reward. Sometimes they get so lost in details that I could scream (oh, the questions), but I know it's part of their learning process and I want them to ask, ask, ask.

Their passion is amazing.

So we were talking about inserting nasogastric tubes the other day, and one student asked me, "What if they bleed? Or what if you hurt the person while you're doing this procedure?"
To which I replied, "Well, sometimes you do hurt people - I mean, it's not comfortable. Do you harm them? No. But you do hurt them. You aren't always doing something nice - sometimes you're doing something that is really uncomfortable."

She stated, "Wow. You must kinda lose some of that connection, you know? I mean, ER nurses must learn how to not care."

I blinked. And said, "No, you never stop caring. If you stop caring, you leave nursing. You just learn to differentiate between what's actually harmful and what's necessary for healing. I've refused to do things before. People have the right to say no. And you get used to how procedures go. Not every procedure goes perfectly every time. You just do your best."

And I realized I meant that. I could have told her about my patient the other day whose heart stopped mid sentence and was a DNR, and how even though I was still taking care of patients that day, I stepped into the room with the family and cried for 15 minutes with them. And that I still think about her.
I could tell her that I walked into a room with an intubated patient, noticed her BP was sky-high and titrated up her sedation and spoke to her in soothing tones, and watched her heart rate and BP drop to a more normal zone. I could tell her that I never say anything bad about my patient even if they're sedated, because I assume they can hear me, and my place isn't to judge.
I could tell her that sometimes I judge anyway, and I have to shove my judgment aside. I'm human, and people do stupid things, for sure- but how many times have I done something dumb? Nobody deserves to get hurt.
I could tell her that every time I feel like I hurt someone I cringe inside.
I could tell her that I give 110% to people while I'm there, because, well, that's my job and I love what I do.
I could relate the time I had a guy who learned he was probably never going to walk again, and how I held his hand and my friend Jen held his other hand because he wasn't sure if his child was alive, and how we both stood there and cried with him for an hour, because we had the time to give and we could be there and he said, "Please, please don't let me be alone." And dammit, we weren't going to let him be alone that night.

I couldn't do this job if I didn't care.

Inconsistencies.

I have to say, writing at all in this blog is challenging for a billion reasons, but mostly because *I'm* really not that interesting.
My patients, however, are.
And there's this little law that keeps me from really writing about them.
So I have to get creative. Which I guess is the point.

A little background: still on night shift (hell), married, now cat sitting for a friend (and they are adorable).

And that's life.

"Because you don't suck."

Ok, this morning, I was walking towards my car with another ER nurse friend of mine, someone I really just love because she's a great nurse and actually genuinely kind.
And the subject of double time came up -
we get double time pay when we stay over past our 12 hour shift (rocks, seriously). And she made a comment, and I commented back that my pay was not that much.
And she said, "Why? That's BS!"
And I reminded her:
"Well, they started me at the lowest pay possible. I've only been a nurse for 17 months. I'm a baby."

And she stopped, and looked at me, and said, "You know, I forget that, because you don't suck. You're, like, really on top of your sh*t." (that word is obviously "shot" since I work in a trauma center). "You know how some new nurses just suck horribly? You actually are really smart, and everyone likes working with you. I forget that you're new. You're, like, not really new. You're quasi-new. Some people never get it, and you totally get it."

I blushed. I think I muttered something inane and ran towards my car, waving good-bye/good morning.

But I secretly really liked that compliment.
I am scared of being a sucky nurse. And I'm glad that at least some of my co-workers don't perceive me that way, because honestly, I really care.
So, that was kind of awesome.

No, really

Yeah, now it's really been a while. And why?
Because no matter what anyone tells you, it all comes down to the fact that night shift... TRULY SUCKS.
Yes, the camaraderie is amazing. Yes, you will learn more than you would on day shift. Yes, you have to troubleshoot for yourself, and doggone it, it's good for you when you talk to salty old nurses who can reminisce about how tough it was to have a night shift and be so stranded with few resources and new interns and new residents and oh my god we're gonna hurt these 8 patients I had to take care of in the snow uphill but....
it all comes down to:
Night shift sucks. Ass.
It creates good bonding, and to those who are naturally night people? Good on' ya. Please keep our world turning.
I remember being up before sunrise. Now I stay up until 11am sometimes. And it makes me feel weird.

But overall, it's good for me. Or so I keep telling myself. So, until the holidays are past, I am going to keep a positive attitude. I have my dream job. I am working in a level 1 UC trauma center that gives me tuition discount etc...
I see things that most people will never see (Rheumatic Fever? Really? Seriously?)
I see cutting edge treatment. I've run a gurney to the OR with a surgeon's hand in someone's heart, holding an Aorta together. I've seen dead people come back from a code. I've seen trauma unlike anything I could imagine. And I'm still here.

And my husband is by my side. So, that speaks for itself.

Been a while.

It's been a while. There have been so many life changes, I can't even begin to start writing about them. Apologies to those who have left comments- when I write, I really like to spend time focusing on writing, and given a new job for both of us, a billion life changes, and a wedding to plan, I'm stretched thin.

Ok, the short version:

Will is now the CTO (chief technical officer) of a 3-D television company.

I just got my dream job, that I've wanted since I decided I was going to nursing school:
I am now working at UC Davis medical center in the Emergency Dept. We're a Level 1 Trauma center, which means: teaching hospital, sicker patients, and total insanity. Add the fact that the ED is moving to a 50,000 square foot brand new building in about 1.5 months, and there is total utter chaos.

Keep in mind I'm following HIPAA when I discuss patient stuff:

In the past month on orientation at Davis I've done CPR on about 10 people.
None of them lived.

I'm in process of filling out a ton of competencies. Our orientation binder is about the same thickness as an entire quarter's class. There are 10 new nurses orienting together, and I think they just added 5 more. There will be another 10 coming in soon.

As far as CPR and codes/determining death go:
The really cool thing is that not only do we use two different leads, we actually use ultrasound on the heart to see if there's any activity at all. If there is, we take a next step (still learning what that is, depending on the person and the attending physician's preference).
For those of you who may not know, in order for a physician to pronounce death, the patient has to have asystole in two different leads/EKG perspectives on the heart, which ensures that the patient really is dead. It's a failsafe. Using ultrasound is even more accurate. It's really cool how far they'll go to work to save someone.

I've driven a gurney at Mach 3 to the OR with blood dripping behind it a-la-Hansel-and-Gretel-trail, with a surgeon's hand in someone's chest holding their dissected aorta together while three nurses were hanging blood as fast as they could to keep that person alive. At least you can really say we tried. No, that person didn't make it.
The twisted thing is that all I could think about was BBQ afterward. I attribute it to the rib spreaders. What? I mean, I know, it's twisted. I warned you. This blog isn't always pretty, and we EMS folks are a little... different. Thank goodness.

I've seen someone pronounced dead after being coded for an hour. Asystole on two leads on two different monitors, ultrasound of the heart showed no activity. Full on "Time of Death: blah blah blah."
Somehow, a few minutes later, this person was in NSR (normal sinus rhythm: ie, their heart was beating. Normally. This kind of thing ONLY happens in soap operas, folks).
Nobody has seen anything like that in their entire career.

I've seen all sorts of other stuff. Crepitus (Sub-cutaneous air) from a pneumothorax, some really sick people in general, lots of intubations... it's a mad, mad place.

I've seen imminent delivery. That's actually kind of happy and fun, but messy.

The nurses I work with, for the most part, are some of the most intelligent, welcoming folks I've met. We are expected to have a vast array of knowledge, and to be able to anticipate a lot of interventions. Many of them have advanced degrees. Half of them have over 15 years of experience. I am a baby in comparison.

Nobody could ever be on facebook here. There's no way in hell you could do anything but try to keep your patients alive. Especially when 4 people come in with CPR in progress, the Resuscitation Room nurses need help, and your patient's blood pressure is dropping and you need help, too. It's insane.
And I love it.

I start nights again this week, which I'm not looking forward to, but at least I know what to expect.

On my off days, I'm back in my Sacramento routine: outrigger canoe paddling, cycling long distances on the American River Bike Trail, and I have yet to visit my old Bikram Yoga studio.
Our new place is infinitely better than any of our old apartments. It's a 2.5/1.5 with tons of storage, a backyard, a garage, a basement, and a rose garden in front. Our landlady is super cool and likes to share a glass of wine with me on the back porch.
Life is pretty good.

Assaulted or A-peppered? Happy Nurses' Week.

I mean seriously, come on.

There are nights (actually, I guess mornings) when I leave the ER and I wonder if people show up just to fuck with the nurses.

Since starting work as an ER nurse, I've been kicked, grabbed, clawed at (I understood that one, though- 90 year old on whom I was inserting a Foley catheter), spit on, yelled at, called every name and *then* some, pushed, and had someone very nearly injure my thumb. And that's just from the patients.
That's not including patient's families.
Let's not forget the MDs who sometimes lose their cool, because even though we're part of the healthcare team, we're still "just a nurse" to some of them.

I've seen tricks, from fake seizures, to "I'm suicidal" right before discharge of a homeless person (because they have to stay on an 8 hour hold after that until the Psych team evaluates them, so they have a bed to sleep in), to "I can't walk" - until that person wants to smoke outside, to "I have 10/10 abdominal pain... can I get a meal tray please?"

And yet, most of the time we just take it all in stride and brush off the mean comments, the yelling, the snide remarks, and know in our hearts that we do our best to care for people who really, really need it.

And sometimes, people say "thank you." You have no idea how much I appreciate those words.
And sometimes we fuck up, like all humans. Hopefully they're small f'ups.

Last night, I had a *patient with advanced cancer (*NB reader, I will reiterate, all patient stories are changed to comply with HIPAA). He was grouchy because he had been there a while, had no white blood cells to speak of, and we had been promising him a room for hours. And then, of course, I missed his portacath when trying to access it. I've never missed before. I was about halfway in and the Huber needle bent, which I've never experienced, which honestly, just sucked. And when you have an already grouchy patient, who has a real reason to be grouchy, who is actually very sick, and you're trying your damndest to do something good for them and you fail? Well, you feel very much like you suck. I had another nurse re-try and he was successful, and fortunately we got that person upstairs to a more comfortable bed, but yowza, if looks were lasers- I felt like he mustered his last bit of energy to shine some anger on me. I understood, but I had been doing a lot behind-the-scenes to help him out, regarding pain management, paging physicians, and getting the antibiotics and blood going that he needed to help make him feel better. It wasn't so much the missing the portacath, mind you - it's probably the knowledge of impending death, pain, feeling like hell (Hemoglobin and Hematocrit of 7.2 and 21.5, respectively, which SUCKS), and having everyone tell him "soon, you'll get a bed" for four hours... and then me missing the portacath.
And I felt awful. I had worked on his inpatient orders while taking care of three other very very sick people- my least acute patient had an open compound fracture (splinted in place) and was going to surgery in a few hours - and understandably had pain control issues, which I was also having to manage every 20 minutes - and trying to get a doctor to increase an order for dilaudid ("no NOT 0.4mg, we gave him 4mg today. Yes. What?? You want to start with 0.4? Did you see his arm? Okay. I can guarantee you're going to be paged all night. Can you increase it to 1mg q 2 hours?"). My other two were 1) psychological issues with COPD (who went home after her breathing improved greatly) and 2) someone with a BP of 225/115 with blurry vision. Yeah.
And just when it was all almost under control, we get someone who overdosed in to my section- not my patient, but when that happens, we all help out because it's a heavy, heavy workup.

We had an assault patient show up as well. It was 4am, and he was a bit difficult to deal with, and the doc was getting frustrated. The doc asked, "So what did he tell you about being assaulted? Do you think he really was?"
I deadpanned, "No, he was actually a-peppered."
At 4am, that was really funny, and decompressed some of the insanity of the night.

Later that night (or early morning), my mentally ill COPD patient came back to scream at us and tell us that we're all incompetent, and then ask if she could watch TV. She started holding her breath to show us how short of breath she was (yes, after screaming). It was an incredible act, and I just shook my head. She pointed at me and the doctor to say that we sent her to the "Clinic hospital" and we were incompetent. Um, yep, I gave her info on a free clinic where she could follow up for managing COPD and her behavioral issues at her request, and made sure she had directions and a bus token. Apparently, she was angry that they weren't open at 5am on Sunday morning. Sigh.
It was almost as good as the girl in triage who I watched shove her finger down her throat to vomit, and then tell us she had nausea and vomiting. Classic.
I had no energy to say anything. At 6am after working all night and taking care of everything under the sun, I just have no patience for that kind of bullshit.

So, my point being: Happy Nurses' Week.
Someone, a friend of mine who is almost an RN and just finishing nursing school, said she thought that we have "very little power and great responsibility."
I absolutely disagree.
I think with great power comes great responsibility.
I know with absolute certainty that I do my very best every day for my patients, even if I shake my head sometimes.
We have the power to make people feel very comfortable in times of great distress, and sometimes in times of great embarrassment.
We have full on Jedi-mind power to decompress a lot of situations.
We have the ability to mostly let things roll - water off a duck's back, my friends.
We have the trust of both patients and physicians. And of our colleagues.

And we deal with a lot of shit. Figuratively and literally.
So, point being, next time you see a nurse, make his or her day.
Just say, "Thank you."

Spring Cleaning

Those crowbars are on the floor of Will's grandpa's kitchen. We were pulling out drywall and I put the bars down and *gasp* there it was, love in the middle of us pulling down the walls. Kind of awesome.

Between working night shift and planning a wedding, writing has taken a back burner to life lately. Some fun things have happened: I found my digital camera, although it's not charged, so I can share more fun photos of cool things, like the most awesomest pen light EVAR in the shape of a killer whale that my friend Katie sent me as a thank you- and my little kiddo patients love it. *Happy Dance!*

Wedding plans are deep underway: venue, bridesmaids all picked and dresses purchased, DJ, Photographer, on to cake tasting. The worst part is the list of invitations. We have been *agonizing* over the invites. Anyone who's been a bride knows this pain.
Sheesh.

I've also been weeding out sources of stress. This past month, I've gone 50 days without any alcohol (I know, can you believe it?), which was a real eye-opener as far as stress relief goes. Many of us use alcohol to de-stress, and I've had to use other venues, such as walks, yoga, stretching, meditation, tea, art, and of course, shoe shopping. I've had more massages in the past month than I have in the past year. There's been some balance restored. Much needed.
I have also done some work examining (with help) people who have used me in the past or who I have allowed to cross my boundaries - this list includes folks from college to people I work with occasionally, to even patients, and recognizing how much I tolerate without speaking up has lead me to be a lot healthier- and now I let people know immediately if something bugs me. I still have to say in some cases, "If you can't say something nice..." is a good rule, but for the most part, I'm not rolling over on my back anymore.

The smell in the air and the wind and rain has been reminding me of river season. I had a moment, driving up the central valley, where I just flashed back to the first time I drove into a river canyon, and that familiar feeling of love and excitement comes back to me. I can't wait to put my paddle in the water.

That's all for now. Working to get a per diem job, taking another year out from UCSF so I can really have the experience to help me as an expert in the future, and doing work on maintaining and constructing good boundaries.

And I'm also saving up for shoes. Oh my god, shoes.

Vampire Hours.

It's been a while since I've posted, which is partly due to the holidays, and partly due to the fact that I've been on night shift for the past month.

I feel like a vampire.

A couple of things have been developing. For one, I'm actually on my own as an RN next week, which I'm simultaneously excited and terrified for- on one hand, I won't have someone looking at everything I do; on the other hand I won't have someone checking up to make sure I did things right.

The night crew is so amazing at helping each other out with things in the ER, so I have to say I have seriously enjoyed working with everyone all night. The camaraderie is beyond anything I've seen.

The sleep deprivation has been difficult, but I'm lucky enough to be able to sleep between the hours of 8a-4p. Wild. This schedule all stops next week when I work a more normal 1200-0030, or noon to midnight in regular time.

Other wild things: We've had Tornadoes here in SoCal, snow, rain, thunder. I love it.
Today I also had my first experience at Disneyland as a SoCal resident. All I have to say is that "Yo-ho, Yo-ho A Pirate's Life for me" never gets old.

Oh and wedding preparations. More to come with that.

Learning.

Every day I learn, I am humbled by how much more there is to know.
Here's a sample:

I've learned that fake seizures are indeed, obnoxious.

I've learned that asking a parent, "How are you doing?" when their child is sick and in your care goes a really long way.

I've learned that more people should speak Spanish in California.

I've learned not to trust other peoples' charting and to make my own assessment.

I've learned to try for the "tough stick."

I've learned that no matter your religion, there's a special place in hell for people who hit-and-run 80 year old grandma crossing the street to go to church.

I've learned to go to the doctor, even if he's a jerk, because the time you go to him and it's really a big deal, you earn more respect than you ever imagined.

I've learned to never let it go to your head.

I've learned that I will have days where I seriously screw up, and am grateful that nobody is hurt. (Knock on wood).

I've learned that I love what I do.

I've watched other people sit on their asses and not help out when push comes to shove, and I will never be like that.

I've learned that if you tell me the exact amount of pain medication you need, where to start your IV, and that you're allergic to all meds except ativan and dilaudid, then I consider you a GOMER (Get. Out. Of. My. ER.), and I never thought I'd ever feel that way towards anyone. And if you ask me for a meal tray and then tell me you're suicidal after I refuse because I'm waiting for your lab tests? Then you have incurred my wrath and I resent paying taxes for your visit. And I especially resent you if your ring the call light 40 times while I'm in a pediatric code next door.
See this youtube video, it is so illustrative of the crap I deal with: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=_m64cy1MMPg&feature=related

I've learned that you cannot, no matter what, give more than 10mEq of Potassium per hour or you will cause a dysrythmia. And I have not done so, thankfully.

I've learned that if you call a nurse "honey," s/he will cringe. And will lag at getting what you need.

I've learned that a good charge nurse is really awesome.

I've learned that even a jerk of a doc can be a really awesome diagnostician.

I've learned that when the doctor says stop CPR, you stop. And you realize that you've done all you can.

I've learned that when you start an IV on a kid, you had better damn well get it the first time, but sometimes you don't, and that's okay.

I've learned that really, everyone who is sick and in the ER is afraid, and if you honor that, then you have a way better chance of connecting and understanding what's going on with your patients.

I've learned that the little things really go a long way.

I've learned that I have a helluva lot more to learn.

Hello, Backbone, "How you doin?"

Thank you ER, for giving me something that I sometimes lack: a spine.
It's been helpful in more ways than just nursing.

I've gained clarity that I've really needed.

Things that I've lost sight of.

In the ER: I am now able to stand up for myself. I know when to ignore, I am better able to figure out when to question, I'm more of an advocate for my patients.

In personal life: I have always been able to stand up for myself. I am angered when people underestimate me. Being told that I'm malleable and "easily influenced" even if someone feels that way tells me that they severely underestimate me and they seriously overestimate themselves. I am much stronger than most people know. Part of that is from reading the "Ancient Art of War," which allowed me to keep my guard up, no matter what the situation. I am quiet when confronted in interpersonal interaction, which is often mistaken for weakness.
And I am certainly strong, in ways people don't even imagine.

Will is one of the people who has never underestimated me, which is why I love him so much.
In any case, I am happy to have found my spine again. And I am deeply happy that Will is back and here with me.
This time is a special one. I am living day by day, happily reveling in rejoining and rejoicing.

Intensity, and a Labor of Love

The ER is getting better.
The above image is sunrise at Lee's Ferry on the Grand Canyon.
Being a full-time Canyon guide is on my "Bucket List," and although I've rowed it and guided it, I'm not a full-time guide with even 20 trips under my belt.
But my heart is still there.

There are certain things in your life that grab hold of your presence so intensely that you know immediately if your heart belongs there or not.
Nursing, and the experiences I have every day in my job, validates this more than anything.

It's so much a labor of love. I read my friends' blogs and I realize more and more how much our time in nursing school was dedicated to really loving people. I see it every day in my ER when I take the extra second to be kind to somebody and they thank me.
We were raised well.

Love is giving freely. "Love is patient, love is kind. It does not envy, it is not proud..." one quote from the Bible that I can hang with (1st Corinthians 13 something, forgive the absent mind of the Catholic schoolgirl).

The river has my heart and soul.
I am deciding whether I can give it elsewhere. My patients get my heart every day. I am someone who loves deeply. I have to recognize this and love it in myself.
I have a capacity to love many people. I also have to recognize and embrace this fact.

Just like I embrace the sunrise over the river.
Just like I embrace my dreams and goals.
Everything we do leads us to something better and more amazing for ourselves. I truly believe this fact.
And now, I just need to live it.

Climbing Behind a Waterfall (an allegorical anectdote)

This photo was taken in September of 2004, while I was on a Grand Canyon trip. This exact spot is called "Elves' Chasm," and it truly looks like a place where you might expect little people to pop out of the crevices around you. The waterfall is stunning, and you can crawl up behind it and jump into the shimmering, clear pool below you. There are seven pools you can explore, each one more dazzling and more difficult to access- in fact, I know of someone who fell to their death while trying to climb to the top pool (that's another story). There is no safety net. There is only your impetus to explore, and your awareness of your actions.

That's how I feel right now.
Acutely. Aware.
Of all of these things.

Those who know me know that I have an incredible fear of heights, to the point that even bouldering in a climbing gym terrifies me. I've made it to the base of the cables on Half Dome and couldn't bring myself to go further.

So the fact that I took this picture is actually very sacred and telling to me. Even though I was afraid to climb behind that falls, I did so, and I was rewarded with this amazing, dynamic view.
And guess what?
In the end, it wasn't that bad.
And guess what else?
I jumped.

I jumped into that clear blue pool below and laughed and cried and was given hugs and then I climbed up to the next pool, and the next pool, and the next one. I haven't been to the uppermost one because it was just too treacherous at the time and we didn't have the equipment to get there. But I pushed my boundaries, explored, and was rewarded with an awareness of a place that I will never forget, and one that I long for.

There are pieces of me that I have missed deeply, and I am reconnecting with them now. I feel like I've been neglecting aspects of myself that are central to who I am.
And I'm ready to climb a little bit.

Nursing is like that every day, and yes, I'm talking about nursing and stepping out on a limb and being afraid of what I do and the consequences that my actions have for others, but I'm also not talking about nursing.

I'm talking about life.
I'm talking about love.
I'm talking about living.

My meditation lately has been:
Meditating on the idea that courage comes from love (coeur, corazón), and fear comes from the unknown. I embrace unknowns; I choose courage.

This saying has been one of mine since the end of high school. It has every bit of the same importance right now in my life.

We must be gentle and kind to one another, and help each other explore. We must help each other reach those pools, those places that are difficult to access, but open us up to a world of beauty. It requires trust, faith, and patience.
Regardless of if it's nursing, or if it's vulnerability, or if it's acknowledging each other and ourselves for who we truly are, and loving that especially.

That's all.
Oh yeah, and here's Elves' looking up at the waterfall (different perspective is always good)

Bunnies have more fun.

No, really. That's me, at Symbiosis festival, doing medical work.
It was a pleasant relief from being in the ER everyday and having my ego shattered.
A lot has happened since I last blogged.
For one, I'm engaged. Awesomeness and love.
For two, I'm taking steps towards being less afraid of other things in my life. I can't elaborate here, but wow when you are open, life hands you some cool surprises. Some of those are worth waiting a long time for, and I am incredibly struck to the core by what can happen when we manifest our intentions.
For three, I feel like I suck as an ER nurse, it's okay. I've decided my work environment is destroying my soul, but I'm learning a lot, so I gotta suck it up and go with it.
Hopefully all will be well.

That's the news for now.
Aside from pushing Epi IV, which I'm sure I'll repeat.

Stay cool California. Or wherever you are.

Unicorns and Rainbows and such.

I write a lot about nursing, and have written some about rivers, mostly because that's what my life has consisted of.

But now I'm gonna write about Unicorns.

Since I was a kid, I loved Unicorns. And now that Burning Man is coming up, we have actually created the Unicorn Ranch, which is a place for special hard-to-find people to be found. Maybe. If we like you.

It definitely will be serving pink fizzy drinks.

Watch for updates on our awesome camp. My sister and I are painting the artwork for it, so we're having fun with that. Will is getting an extra dome, and we have trampolines.
If you live in a cave, and don't know what Burning Man is, go here:
www.burningman.com

I can't explain it to you. For those of you who know, but haven't been, you need to come.
For those of you who know it was better next year... I can't wait to give you dusty hugs!

Adventures in Big Emergencies.

Yesterday was actually pretty good, sorta. I missed a cardioversion which went on just after shift change (8:00pm), but I was exhausted. The ER is either going to kill all love and sympathy I have for humanity, or make it grow, or both.

The morning was pretty mellow, basic, a few definitely emergent-but-not-life-threatening things happening, and then all of a sudden, things heated up.
Within an hour of each other, we received a stroke patient, a patient having a bigtime cardiac arrhythmia, and then someone who was pretty septic with dangerously low blood pressure, out of it, and was pretty much circling the drain.
3 patients, three real emergencies. Ready, GO!

Sigh. When starting an IV on my cardiac patient, I didn't put the best pressure on his vein, so he bled a little bit (not a lot), but a little. His BP was really REALLY high, too. And he was scared.
And I will tell you this:
If you're a new nurse or a nursing student, listen to me carefully:
ALWAYS give the patient the call button before you leave the room. Even if they don't use it, they cannot be (as) upset with you if they have a way to get in touch with you.

Someone who was doing a test told him when he asked for one of us (literally 2 minutes after he had been stabilized and when we had just finished drawing blood and left the room to send it) that he would be lucky if someone actually came. First of all, that attitude is BULLSH*T, and secondly it's not true.
So he peed in the bed instead of calling and asking for a urinal or a bedside commode.
If he had the call light, he could have called for me or another nurse. So, that's the call light issue. Oh yeah, and this patient was relatively young.
I guess later he also figured out I was newer and was upset - apparently about the blood that leaked from his vein when we were getting his IV in. On the up side, I noticed that his O2 sat had dropped when he told me he felt confused, I figured out, "Oh hey, maybe it's because your oxygen is low and you need just a little bit. Sweet." On the down side, later that day, I also watched communication breakdown happen with him (and with me! I love it when people make major decisions about a patient and don't tell the nurses). It was a recipe for disaster, but the patient is okay, and that's what counts, right? Sigh.
Part of me felt like, "Wow, I totally understand how this person is frustrated," and the other part of me felt like, "Um, we just saved your life. We have 4 other super acute patients and I'm doing my best to chase down the doctor to make sure you're ok. Couldya throw a thank you in there somewhere?"

Be good to your hearts, folks:



Our stroke patient had a whole 'nother story as well, but that one involved a good catch by me: "Wait a sec, we can't give this med- the blood pressure is sky high but the heart rate is under 60, we need a different one...." and some love towards the folks upstairs to get them to admit our patient with a super high BP.
The one circling the drain- well, when we get people that sick, our ER will drop nurses to 1:1 ratio, so that we function like a mini-ICU until people get stabilized. That works really well.

So, I still feel slow, my skills are slowly coming back to me, and for the most part, I'm getting it. It's week 4 for me in the ER, so I'd hope so. I'm glad I have another 20 to go before I'm considered a full nurse.

Some people are stronger than you think...

Every day is a new set of amazing stories. I see so many different people in a day, and I'm amazed at what I get to learn, see and do.

Today was a really good day. In fact, this week has been a lot better.
I actually have the ability to chart on patients, I know where stuff is in the Pyxis (the medication machine), and my IV start scorecard has improved drastically. Like I'm at 80% now - I'm just working on stopping the bleeding after I insert the catheter.

Tentatively, I'm starting to feel like a *real* nurse. Sorta.
I took on two patients on my own today (the standard is 3 to 4), and I'm getting the rhythm of it. The most awesome thing about the ER is that for the most part, the nurses and the docs really help each other out. The teamwork is stellar. I've learned which nurses will leave you 4 straight caths and bloodwork to do at the end of their shift, which ones spend more time freaking out than working, and which ones see that you have a new patient and will help your other ones to the bathroom or draw the blood or help with a procedure when you're swamped. There are more of the helpful than the selfish ones in the ER, and that makes me happy.

This week has also been full of good lessons.
A 90+ year old man attempted to break my thumb today. He was confused, ripping out lines, his oxygen levels were low, and we had inserted a Foley catheter. Poor guy. I think I'd try to break someone's thumb if someone came at me with a Foley, too.
In any case, of course it came at the time that 1) we were supposed to take him upstairs to his med-surge floor on a heart monitor (and he didn't want the lines on him), 2) I had 3 other things to do for a patient going to CT scan who was worried she had cancer, and 3) I had to pee really bad (number 3 being the least important).
What do you do with someone who does that?
Me: "Hey that is NOT okay. You are hurting me. Let me go NOW." I grabbed his wrist, bent it enough to loosen his grip. I am acutely aware that I cannot hurt my patient.
Him: "I don't care if I hurt you. I don't like being here."
He releases his grip.
I sigh. I don't blame him. He's a DNI/DNR, and his blood pressure is sky high, his heart is working at 30%, and half the time he doesn't know where he is, and when he does, he's frustrated because he can't move very well.
We still got an order for Ativan to calm him down. When he tried to pull out his Foley (which sits in the bladder with an inflated balloon keeping it from slipping out) and his IVs, we had to. He was hurting himself.
And my thumb still hurts. But both of us are intact.

Yesterday I had my first violent patient as well. He called me every name in the book - and I told him to stop, that he had no right to be abusive towards me, or anyone else when we're trying to help him.
He fired me as his nurse.
It all started over a lost glove. Apparently the glove was more important than anything else, including the pain he had reported on admission.
The clincher was when he called the very large, formidable African-American security guard a "stupid, fat, n****r." You could have heard a pin drop. I think the patients all gasped and stopped vomiting. All of our jaws dropped. He continued to be belligerent, and demanded to leave. The patient was escorted out by numerous security guards. He obviously had some other major psych issues, but he was threatening the nurses, threatening security, and he swore at another patient. It was nuts. And a good lesson. I tried really hard to talk him down, and so did other nurses, and so did the Doctors and you know what?
It just didn't work. He signed out AMA, cursing all of us for losing his glove. It's the first time I really felt a sense of "good riddance." I feel sorry for him, and if he came back I'd try to help him, but there's a point where you have to cut off the kindness. I reached it.
The funny thing is that I don't think he even had gloves to begin with. It was a surreal experience.

And today, I had so many different people with different issues, it was amazing. From vehicle trauma (trauma!) to heart problems to a possible aneurysm, to Lupus flare-ups, to gallbladder attacks, to insect bites to Septic Shock with some very special circumstances... holy crap.

Kind of like nursing school, except - holy shit - it's real. I'm responsible. For people.

You can bet your sweet ass I'm checking every single medication. Is Vanco compatible with NS 0.9%? Is Toradol? How about Diphenhydramine? How much Fentanyl do you want to give IVP - his pulse is only 58? Hey Doc, you wrote the order for Morphine IM. Did you want it IM or IVP like you told me? Can you change that order?
These are the questions I'm asking constantly. I'm super anal about the meds. The seasoned nurses think it's cute, and they also respect it.
The other thing I'm stoked on is the critical thinking skills we got from UCSF. I can look at labs and have some sense of what's going on with a patient. I know where to look for info on Up-To-Date. It helps me anticipate what's coming, and it really helps in the ED.
I'm really grateful for our assessment skills.

Emergency. My dream. I still can't believe I'm here.
And you know what my feeling is at the end of the day?
I *really* love my job.