James' New Lungs
I had the most amazing day.
I got up. I had barely any sleep, and it's "that time of the month". I was crabby, and NOT in the mood to go to work. But that changed.
My patient today had end-stage cystic fibrosis, and had managed to live to the age of 35. He was anxious and needed a lot of reassurance about every little thing. He came to our ICU after having a double-lung transplant that has given him a new lease on life. I've never taken care of a pt with double-lung-transplant before. It was a little eerie, since I'd helped take care of the brain-dead patient who was the donor only a few days before. This is the flip side of the coin.
I was initially annoyed by his constant anxieties. But as the day went on and we did more together, and I helped him get better, I was no longer annoyed, and I just wanted to help him feel better. It was really gratifying to help him understand what was going on, and help him conquer his fear of the unknown.
I've extubated lots of patients. It's always a relief for them to get that tube out of their throat and breathe "normally" again. James was very apprehensive about having the tube taken out. I talked him through the steps, and took the tube out. I said "that's it, it's out!". He was silent. O2 sats were 100%, and I looked at him to make sure he was breathing ok. He looked at me in wonder. "I can breathe!". I looked at him, and I realised that for years and years, it's been a struggle for him to even breathe. Now it's not. This was a very special extubation. It wasn't "I can breathe again", it was "I can breathe".
The things we all take for granted. The tears in his wife's eyes when she saw him doing so well, and not struggling for the first time in so many years. Being part of helping someone through being better than they were before they came to hospital. Even after the tube was out, he needed a lot of reassurance and teaching. But we seemed to connect, and my words and actions reached him, and helped him feel better.
That feeling of "I can make a difference". That's why I'm a nurse.
And tonight I went for my run (still on the beginner steps), and I thought about James and his blue eyes, his wonder and relief at being able to breathe. THAT was motivation to do anything.
I got up. I had barely any sleep, and it's "that time of the month". I was crabby, and NOT in the mood to go to work. But that changed.
My patient today had end-stage cystic fibrosis, and had managed to live to the age of 35. He was anxious and needed a lot of reassurance about every little thing. He came to our ICU after having a double-lung transplant that has given him a new lease on life. I've never taken care of a pt with double-lung-transplant before. It was a little eerie, since I'd helped take care of the brain-dead patient who was the donor only a few days before. This is the flip side of the coin.
I was initially annoyed by his constant anxieties. But as the day went on and we did more together, and I helped him get better, I was no longer annoyed, and I just wanted to help him feel better. It was really gratifying to help him understand what was going on, and help him conquer his fear of the unknown.
I've extubated lots of patients. It's always a relief for them to get that tube out of their throat and breathe "normally" again. James was very apprehensive about having the tube taken out. I talked him through the steps, and took the tube out. I said "that's it, it's out!". He was silent. O2 sats were 100%, and I looked at him to make sure he was breathing ok. He looked at me in wonder. "I can breathe!". I looked at him, and I realised that for years and years, it's been a struggle for him to even breathe. Now it's not. This was a very special extubation. It wasn't "I can breathe again", it was "I can breathe".
The things we all take for granted. The tears in his wife's eyes when she saw him doing so well, and not struggling for the first time in so many years. Being part of helping someone through being better than they were before they came to hospital. Even after the tube was out, he needed a lot of reassurance and teaching. But we seemed to connect, and my words and actions reached him, and helped him feel better.
That feeling of "I can make a difference". That's why I'm a nurse.
And tonight I went for my run (still on the beginner steps), and I thought about James and his blue eyes, his wonder and relief at being able to breathe. THAT was motivation to do anything.