Do Miracles Happen?

Recently, I had the privilege to witness joy at the passing of a patient. I got the call as I was on my way to dinner. I turned around and went to the address my triage nurse had given me. Let me preface by saying that I was not supposed to go to this house, it was my colleague's territory and she wasn't answering her phone. It turned out that she was home in bed and someone else was supposed to be covering her calls. That nurse didn't answer the phone either, so I went to do my duty in a place I wasn't supposed to be.

When I pulled up to the address, there was such joy and celebration going on in this home that it seemed more like a party atmosphere than the home where a death had just occurred. I thought this couldn't possibly be the right house. It was. It turns out that this patient was so labored in an effort to breathe that the family joined hands around the patient's bed and sang a traditional Catholic hymn. As they completed their singing, their loved one passed. The family was convinced that this soul had gone to heaven. Their celebration of joy was truly an affirmation of their faith.

With the anniversary of my own mother's passing, my heart and mind were heavy. Walking into this home made me feel that indeed, something special had happened here. Just like it had when my mother passed.

I know I've mentioned this story before, but at the anniversary of my mom's death, it bears repeating. My dad passed away in a local, small community hospital that has about 100 beds. Four years later, my mom passed away in the same hospital, in the same room and in the same bed. No person on earth can convince me that this was a coincidence. I know it wasn't. My Dad came that night to claim her back. The idea still brings me an overwhelming sense of peace. I miss both of my parents very much, but it's experiences like the ones I get to witness routinely as a hospice nurse, that convince me I'll see all of my loved ones again.

When all was said and done the other night and I'd pronounced my patient's death, I went home and pondered why it was me that this particular responsibility fell to. Was it a coincidence that nobody else answered their phones? I don't think so. And besides, I've never really cottoned to coincidence, I am of the belief that for every thing that happens, there is an explanation. Something greater was at work and recognizing my grief, had brought me solace at this, the anniversary of my mother's passing: I got to bear witness to another family's miracle and faith. Today, I give thanks for that.

I'm curious, have you experienced your own little miracles or signs? Do they bring you peace, or do you find these things unsettling?

IDRN UDLPN

I finally did it last night. I said the words, "are you an RN? Can I speak to The RN please?" The subtext is of course, you are a lowly LPN and unworthy of me even speaking to you. The reality is when one of my patients expires, it must be a RN who pronounces the death.

So I'm very sorry Nurse LPN, I know how it feels, but it had to be done. I'm quite certain you know what death looks like and are quite capable of listening to absent heart sounds for the required time. I'm also certain that when pressed, you know how to report a death to the medical examiner. I know why you were so passively aggressive toward me as I've been in your shoes.

One hundred and two years ago, when I first went to nursing school, I was looking ahead to my divorce and desperately needed a quick nursing program. Since I was going to be a single mother with bills to pay, I needed something that would get me a job somewhere rather fast. I chose a vocational program to be a Licensed Practical Nurse as my path of least resistance. It wasn't a bad little program and I learned a lot. Mostly, I learned that LPNs aren't highly respected-even when they're smart or have a boatload of experience. Many RNs and all administrators look down on them. I also learned there aren't too many jobs for the LPN. I had my choice of nursing homes to practice my trade, but that's about it.

My first job was at a horrendous little nursing home where the afternoon shift nurse (a RN), would prep the medications for the nightshift nurse. That's right. She'd take the pills for each patient out of their little identifying containers and place them in cups. The cups would go into a little well with the room number as the only identifier of the mysterious pills. This was to save the ONLY night shift nurse (me), some valuable time. Otherwise, I'd never get to go home and sleep. The most important things about a med pass, known as the five rights, are carved in stone AND written in Florence Nightengale's blood: right patient, right medication, right dose, right time and right route (and I didn't have to google the five rights to check these facts-neither did any nurses reading this.) Can you see the hamster in my brain having a massive seizure at this med set up? I remember asking the seasoned RN how I'd know which medication was which. She told me she didn't make mistakes. Okie dokie then. I quit after my one and only shift. I could not and would not work like this.

A bit later, I took a job at another nursing home. We had sixty patients on my unit, one RN, one LPN and one or two nurse assistants. The RN, a woman from India, seemed nice enough when I first met her. I thought, mistakenly, that she was joking when she told me, "IDRN, I Sit. UDLPN, udodmeds." What? For sixty people? Was she out of her mind? Apparently, she was. True to her word, she sat on her ass all night while I passed every single medication at midnight and then again, at 6 AM. Oh, she had lots of good tips about how to get this done quickly, none of them included her jumping in to help. I never finished my med pass before the end of my shift. Never.

Not once in one hundred and two years, have I forgotten DRN. I've not forgotten the way she made me feel either: small. Last night, not wanting to leave the confines of my home to go pronounce a facility death, I let the dreaded "RUDRN" leave my lips in a rather haughty way. I regret it. From DRN to DLPN, please accept my heartfelt apology.

Rudeelocks and Her New Bed

Sunday, I threw in the towel and went to the furniture store.  I wasn't going to leave until I'd completed the purchase for a new bed.  I'd no idea that Tempur-Pedic beds cost as much as they did so I lingered at the furniture store longer than I needed.  As soon as the palpitations subsided, I signed the purchase agreement and left with a delivery plan.  Tuesday morning, I'll be rolling in Rhapsody.  I bought the system with the air flow chamber but not the system that would have set me back an arm and a leg.

I'm appalled to say, I've not purchase a new mattress since 1994.  I hated the one I bought from the moment I took delivery.  Fourteen years is a long time to spend despising something I spend a third of my life in.  It's uncomfortable, it's too big for my bedroom and it's killing my back.  Since I'm only about one step away from seeking the advice of a surgeon to fix my back, I thought I'd explore options that aren't so invasive. 

Mattresses can be such an issue.  They're hard to pick out at a venue as public as a furniture store.  I read up on the trial of these beds and followed the advice to lie down and stay there for a minimum of 15 minutes.  That's an awful long time when one is lying there feeling self conscious and vulnerable. I did what my research recommended though and like Goldilocks, soon found the bed that was perfect.  If the salesman had shut his mouth, I know I would have fallen asleep right there in the store.

Since I'm downsizing from a king to a queen sized bed, I needed a new frame to go with the mattresses and found a bed frame that will match my mahogany furniture beautifully.  I'm so proud of myself for doing this for me.  I'm always reluctant to spend a huge amount of money on anything that is solely for my own well being.  This was a big deal.  It's going to be an even bigger deal Tuesday night when I crawl between my sheets and drift off with no salesman talk, talk, talking in my ear.