Patients and Patience

I love being a nurse.

Most of the time.

Just like any other job or career, there are ups and downs. Unfortunately, because of the nature of the job, nurses (and other healthcare providers) get to work with people who are sick. And sick people aren’t always happy. I don’t blame them. I’m not happy when I’m sick either. You feel gross, and on top of that, you just want to sleep. Then we come in, wake you up and ask you a million questions. We ask about your bowel movements, and force you to use a pain scale about something you can’t even quantify.

I don’t blame my patients for getting a little short with me.

Then there are the ones who are so demanding that I wonder if they understand how healthcare works. When I work in a skilled facility, my typical patient load is anywhere from fifteen to thirty patients. I don’t even have time to go into everyone’s room in an hour, or even two. I run for hours without stopping, and I do my best to meet everyone’s needs.

When you talk to a nurse, you have no idea what other things are going through their head. Maybe there’s the patient next door who’s having a hard time breathing, and she’s waiting for a call back from the doctor. Or maybe three other patients need pain pills, and she stopped in your room on her way to get them. Maybe she’s about to get an admit, and is trying to get everything under control before things get really hectic. Maybe she just had a patient die, and is grieving for their family. Or maybe it’s the first day of the month, and she still has to change over all of the charts for the new month. Then there’s the possibility of issues at home. 

We’re all humans, and we all carry baggage.

No matter what, we hold it in, and we put a smile on our face, because you're important too.

For those who are patient with me, I can’t tell you how much I appreciate it. The reason I got into nursing was for the opportunity to make someone feel better. I know my shortcomings, and I know that there are times when I won’t ever live up to expectations. But I have no intention of making you feel worse, or making you feel guilty for asking for help.

Please remember that your nurse is on your side, no matter what else is happening. 

When Real Life Trumps Writing

Since last November, my writing partners and I have started writing together at Great Harvest. It’s a great environment, with fantastic music, and there’s a never-ending supply of yummy food. We get to write and chat, and we actually get productive, since our subconscious has adapted to writing there.

But two weeks ago, I got very little writing done. That’s because something even more exciting happened.

While I was writing, all of a sudden, I heard sirens. Actually, we all heard sirens. One woman ran to the windows of the storefront, and started screaming, “There’s rangers out there! They’ve got their rifles on the truck!” Many of the other customers ran to the storefront, but I stayed where I was. Call me a little crazy, but when I hear rifles, my first instinct isn’t to run into the line of sight. Fortunately, the slightly hysterical woman kept the commentary going.

Finally, I called my husband to let him know what was happening. His first question?

Did you get pictures?

I told him I hadn’t, and he told me that unless I had pictures, no one would believe me. So finally, I dared to go to the window and at that point, the ambulances had already arrived, and my view was mostly blocked. But I still took pictures.

Later, when I watched and read the news, there was a high speed car chase from the county north of us, and they ended up on our Main Street before the truck crashed by running into another car. They were suspected robbers from an armed bank robbery the week earlier. I was close enough that the Great Harvest I was in was within the blockade area for a few hours.

I didn’t get a lot of writing done, but I got a great story to tell! And I got a few pictures!

Real Immersion

When I first moved to Madrid as a new freshman, I had two options. First, I could live in a ‘host family’ environment, which allowed better immersion in the culture, or I could live in the university apartments, with multiple other girls. I chose the host family route. I knew my Spanish wasn’t very good, and I wanted to really experience the culture.

I took a basic Spanish class there, and my first day, I knew I was in trouble. My teacher didn’t speak English, and she gave a pre-test to determine how much we knew. I didn’t even know what I was supposed to do in most of the sections. As expected, I failed the pre-test, and my teacher took me aside and tried to explain that maybe I should try an even more basic class. That probably would have been a good idea, but occasionally, I get a stubborn streak. I decided to stick with this class.

On my way home, I passed a large park, and I sat on one of the benches next to a fountain and pulled out my scriptures, and started reading out loud, in Spanish, to myself. I stumbled a lot, but I persevered. After two days of reading out loud to myself, a man started to relay the bricks of the sidewalk, and he and I worked side by side until he took a break.

He asked me what I was doing, and in my stumbling Spanish, I explained to him that I needed to practice. He then asked me what I was reading, and we continued our conversation. He was patient with me, and after he left, I realized that I’d carried on a conversation in Spanish. I immersed myself even deeper in the culture, attending church with a Spanish congregation, and religious institute classes with my friends from church.

Over the semester, I noticed a difference. Where most of the students from my university remained in their same circles, speaking English to one another, I forced myself out, making friends with Latinos and Hispanics. By the time midterms came, I got a C on my Spanish test, and I was ecstatic. On all of my homework assignments, I’d been acing them, with the help of my friends from church. I’m proud to say, I aced the final, and passed the class with a B.

The park where it all started

By the end of the semester, I was much more confident with my Spanish than most of my other classmates, and I could carry on conversations for hours (which I did, since I was dating a Bolivian at that point!)

The more you immerse yourself in the culture, the easier it is to learn the language, and the customs. And if you’re going to live in a different country, I don’t know why anyone wouldn’t want to really experience the culture for themselves.

I Like Secondary Characters

I’ve been a slacker when it comes to reading. I think it’s a combination of a lot of things. First, I’ve been trying to finish this revision of Hooked. Then I started a new job, and I took several vacations. And add to that, it’s just so pretty and nice outside! Oh, and I started binging Criminal Minds.

I decided to try and remedy that a few weeks ago by reading a book that was written by someone I know. I read about half of it, but the entire time, something just didn’t quite sit right with me. I kept trying to figure it out, but I wasn’t sure what it was. The main character was strong, determined, and definitely not waiting for anyone to make decisions for her. She had proper motivation, and I could root for her goals.

It took me several days before I realized it.

The character was in a bubble. There wasn’t a single secondary character for the first half of the book. And that’s about the spot where I decided to leave it. I just couldn’t relate with her. There was no one that she interacted with, and the only time there was another character was when she was fighting them while she was trying to get some magical ingredients.

I like secondary characters. They give me a better idea of the main character. I tend to fall on the side of too many secondary characters, but that’s because I can’t imagine living a life where you have no friends or family or coworkers.

An author I think does a really good job with secondary characters is Natalie Whipple. Her books always have multiple characters, and the main characters aren’t stuck with just one friend. They’re in a group of friends, like most teenagers are. Plus, her secondary characters bring so much more to the story. It’s not just about the main character anymore.

I like secondary characters. I know that sometimes we all feel alone on our journey, but that doesn’t mean it’s true. 

Salteñas

I think I’ve mentioned before that hubby is from Bolivia. We deal with a lot of difference from both culture and beliefs, and it’s taken years for us to truly understand one another. Even when we think we know each other, there’s always something new to learn.

Hubby hasn’t been back to Bolivia for several years, and we’ve talked about returning for a visit multiple times. Whenever I ask him if he would like to live there again, he always says no.

His response is always the same. The thing he misses most is the food.

I’ve tried some of the Bolivian food. It’s pretty good. It’s different than what I’m used to, but I still enjoy it. I’ve offered several times to try and learn how to make some of it, but he doesn’t want me to. He thinks that I’ll mess it up and it just won’t taste right.

A few years ago, we found a restaurant in a nearby town that made salteñas.

Now if you don’t know what salteñas are, you’re really missing out. The best way I can describe them is that they’re like empañadas, but instead of filling them with cheese, they’re filled with soup. One of the greatest challenges to eating them is trying to do it without spilling all over. It’s a process of eating, sucking and licking so that you can keep clean.

I know, it sounds kind of gross, but it’s not.

When we first found the restaurant, hubby wanted to go every day. Every time he had the car, he would come home with three or four salteñas, and he would share with me.

Some Salteñas my MIL made

Now, I said they were good, but not so good I wanted to eat them every day for weeks on end.

It took me a while before I could figure out why hubby loved them so much. They were his comfort food. The stuff that reminded him of home. He ate it because it reminded him of his family and his homeland. Of all the senses, I think taste and smell are the most potent, especially when they’re connected to memories.

I can relate. When I lived in Spain, I frequented the American store, and the things that excited me were always random, but reminded me of home. Things like Kraft Mac and Cheese. Or Pop Tarts.

What kind of food do you associate with home? I’m curious about all of your traditions!

Simple Words

Sometimes, as a nurse, I feel like a glorified waitress. And a maid. And a personal butler. There are the patients who ask me to clean their room, or who want me to warm their food to a specific temperature. Or who need me to tuck them into bed just right. Or help them figure out how to use their electronic devices. Or change the DVD in the DVD player. I’ve had patients who want me to snake their toilets and others who want me to dial numbers on the phone for them.

Usually, I don’t mind. But there are the days when it feels like some patients don’t understand that I have more than one patient. And then there are the patients who call me into their room, and moments after I leave, they call me right back in. I’ve had patients who are on their call light thirteen or fourteen times an hour, and since there’s always a ding overhead when a call light goes off, it gets exhausting.

Imagine the scenario where I go into a patient’s room to give them their medications. We talk for a few minutes, and then when we finish I leave. Thirty seconds later, they call me back in and ask if I can close the blinds. Sure. No problem. I do that, and then I leave again. I get halfway down the hall when the familiar ding-ding starts again. I go in and the patient gives an apologetic smile and asks me to get a coke out of their fridge. Great. I grab the coke and again try to get back to my work. Halfway down the hall… well, you guessed it.

I hated working with those patients. I felt like they were doing it on purpose, or that they were wasting my time. Why couldn’t they just ask me when I was already in the room?

A few years ago, I worked at a facility where the administrator wanted staff to focus on six important words.

“Is there anything else you need?”

Before leaving any room, he insisted that we ask the patient if they needed anything else. It’s so simple, yet incredibly effective. I didn’t expect it to save me much time, but I’ve found, after putting it into practice, that when I’m not spending half of my time walking up and down the halls, I actually do get things done faster. And both the patient and I are much happier.

Imagine the same scenario. I go into a patient’s room and give them their medications. We talk for a few minutes, and then when we finish, I go to the door and ask, “Is there anything else you need?” Why yes! She wants me to close the blinds. Sure. No problem. I reach over, grab the blinds, and that’s it. “Anything else?” She wants a coke from the fridge. Got it. We do that until she shakes her head and can’t think of anything else.

That’s it. Such a time saver, but I never would have thought of it myself. Even though I’m no longer at the facility where I was taught to ask, I still put it into practice today. And I think I’m a better nurse for it.

Writing is Exciting

I live in a small town where there isn’t a whole lot of things to do. At least, that’s how it seems to me. I’ve lived in large cities most of my life, and I’m used to lots of museums, parks, malls… I like the indoor stuff.

Recently, at an orientation, we were asked to state our name, where we’re from and what we like to do. As we went down the line, there was a distinct pattern. They liked to hike, to go camping, or hunting, and the leader of the group always had advice. The best place to hike, a little known place to go camping, where the fish are always biting.

When it came to my turn, I told them that I like reading and writing. There was a long pause before the conversation turned to the next person. The leader of the group didn’t even respond.

What they don’t know is that I live a fairly exciting life. Maybe not because I’m as active than them, but because writing isn’t just the process of sitting down and putting words on a page. I get to research all sorts of stuff, and live in exciting worlds with my characters. I get to research about underground waterfalls, stone masonry, prosthetics, pirates, even the Mongolian language. I’ve traveled on sea ships, wagons, even on horseback to my different destinations. I’ve been a diplomat, a baker, a student, a warrior… there’s so many possibilities, and I get to wear all sorts of hats.

Writing is fun, and it’s never the same from day to day.