Thank You Sister Sheila

Nursing has served me well! For all it's ...trials & tribulations, schedules that look like a strip of Atrial Fib, exhausting documentation, impossible personalities , untold pathogens and fluids, mornings when I can still feel my pulse in my feet from yesterdays shift, yes nursing...has served me well. It has provide life experiences and rewards that most people will never have.

When I realized I was entering my 30th yr of nursing in 2006 I decided to track down Sr Sheila and thank her. In the fall of 1973 Sr Sheila called each gal into her office to ask our plans for college. I had to tell her that I didn't know what I was going to do. You see, my father had just recently been hit by a "down-sizing" in his corporate world and was let go. There would be no money for college.

Sr Sheila didn't miss a beat. She picked up my transcripts and said "Your very good in sciences. Why don't you get a diploma in nursing, go to work and then decide what you want to do." And that started the ball rolling. In 1976 a diploma in nursing cost $2400 dollars and 2 yrs study with no time off. I did it and over the next 12 yrs had my children, went through some life changes, and finished my degree. Regardless of changing economic climates I never once worried about finding a job.

I tried to find Sr Sheila using a classmate web networking site without success. I called High School acquaintances, without success. I tried contacting the order of Nuns she belonged to, again without success. I tried a few more ideas and then gave up. I said "OK God, I tried. If you want me to do this then give me the way"

A year later I happened to be at work one day when a favorite ER volunteer was sharing how she had helped each of her four adopted children find their birth mothers using the web. Bingo? I explained to her my quest. She requested the name of my high school, the year I graduated and how old I thought Sr Sheila was in 1973. One week later she walked in and handed me...Sr Sheila's phone number!

I couldn't wait to make the call. When she answered I explained "I don't expect you to remember me but you were my high school guidance counselor in 1973. I continued my story and finished by saying... You steered me onto a path that gave me a sense of purpose, supported me and kept me challenged for 30 years. I want to say thank you. You made a huge difference in my life". Her voice cracked, she said "You will never know how much I needed this call today! "

You see, God didn't give me her phone number when I wanted it, he gave it to me when she needed my call. I love how that works.

FROM THEIR SHOES

I answered the EMS incoming call. They were bringing a transfer from a small hospital 30 minutes away. The story: 33 yr old female patient with a history of Paranoid Schizophrenia involved in a vehicle-tree accident. Evaluated and treated for abrasions at the smaller hospital. During this time the patient was actively combative and hallucinating. Arrangements were made for the admission to our Psychiatric Unit and the patient was given an injection of Geodon prior to leaving. Enroute the patient stopped being combative, no longer required restraints and was cooperative.

When I entered the room she was sitting on the stretcher sobbing. Obviously fearful and overwhelmed she was telling her husband "You don't understand!! God hung up on me!! Now they can get me! I have no protection, he hung up on me!" She was shaking and praying. "I tried calling him over and over but he wouldn't answer!"

It dawned on me. We in healthcare experienced the successful effect of medication intervening and curbing hallucinations, voices, and combativeness. But the patient? She experienced this same scenario as God abandoning her when the voices left. Now, in her "unprotectedness" she was terrified. Vulnerable to the demons that had been chasing her,
a sitting duck.

I went in and calmly said to her "I know your scared but we will take care of you. We will keep you safe." True, we would. She stopped crying, looked up at me and said "Will you pray with me"? I said "Yes"... held her hand and we said the Our Father together. She remained cooperative the rest of her time with us until she went to the psych ward. In nursing we take care of people where they are at, not where we think they should be.

Holiday Hearts

For some of us the term "Holiday Hearts" may bring visions of Salvation Army bell ringers, Toys for Tots and Community Meals for the homeless. For the ER nurse it means a crowded waiting room of upper respiratory infections peppered with the flurry of new onset Atrial Fibrillation.

Ahhh, "Holiday Heart." The susceptible heart carried by the 50ish age group of heavy drinkers gets pushed into an AFib rhythm by a week of drinking "holiday" quantities of booze and chain smoking. They show up in the already crammed full ER waiting room with family in tow or are brought in by EMS complaining of "feeling weak, poorly, not myself", or "my hearts just not right". Poor Souls" as my Irish Mother would say. It may be their first brush with their mortality. The first tangible message that they have been "rode hard and put away wet" one too many times.

They'll be OK, but are now the proud owner of a Coumadin regime including lab draws for bleeding times over and over, safety considerations for falls and accidents, and a lifestyle that requires following strict instructions...... here on out. Not every Atrial Fib patient is the result of hard living, just the ones who spent years standing naked in the snow singing Ted Nugent.
You know who you are...........