(no subject)
I wish I could say there were many interesting and exciting new things in my life, but I'm sorry to report, that my life is boring. Surprise, surprise haha I am now officially off orientation, which means, I don't have a preceptor looking over my shoulder and making sure I'm doing things correctly and safely. It's kind of scary to not have that safety net. The last couple of weeks went by in a blur and for the most part, the excitement and drama occurred at the very beginning and the very end of the shift, naturally of course. And during those times, I was able to call on my preceptor to help deal with one problem, while I dealt with another. It was helpful to have another experienced nurse to tag team the problems with. And now I'm on my own starting this monday. But these past weeks have been good, I've learned a lot and have worked with a lot of different people. Although it was a pain in the butt to have failed my exam the first time and start as a PCA, it was a valuable experience. I got to know the unit and my peers well and have learned to call on them for help and in return, help them when they needed something. I was able to learn how to become part of the team and trust others, and hopefully earn the trust of my coworkers. It's been a stressful couple of weeks trying to learn the ropes and manage the care of 3-4 patients, a lot can go wrong and theres a lot to juggle. There were a couple of days where I barely had a chance to sit down and chart. And I feel incompetent and inept throughout and after the shift. It's like, what the heck am I doing? What should I be doing? Then there are those times when you do all that you can, and the kid just gets worse and worse. And you feel the weight of the job heavy on your shoulders. It's not that there was something else you could have done, or something that you missed, but it's the course of the disease and chances are they're not going to get better. And you watch them get worse despite your best efforts. Then everyone around you who ask what you do say, oh that must be so sad to work with that population. And you're reminded about the kids who won't get better and the ones who won't go back home. It's just a jumble of emotions at work sometimes.
But it's not all doom and gloom and sadness. I always tell people there's so much we can do for these kids. And even though they don't all go home happy and healthy, at least we brought them some measure of comfort. We did all that we could and there's no shame in that. You cant win all the fights, but at least we gave some a fighting chance. And we were there with them until the end. But don't get me wrong, not everyone who frequents our floor passes away or is terminally ill. The majority of our patients recover, beat the cancer, and go on to lead happy healthy lives. We just sent one of the cutest, sweetest babies home last week. Despite the sadness inherent in the job, there are many sources of joy and pride. One of my first patients was a new diagnosis and extremely ill. And although I thought I was messing things up and doing a poor job, the family thought I was taking good care of their daughter. They told the doctors/nurse practitioners that I was doing a great job and was attentive to their daughter's needs. And although that felt great to hear (because they told the team while I was in the room), the most satisfying part of my work with her was getting her to finally have a bowel movement. I know that sounds weird, and without going into the whole story behind it all, she basically needed to have a BM because she hadn't gone in almost 1.5 weeks. That was my biggest sense of relief, and I'm sure it was for her too haha
I don't see my job as sad and depressing. I see it as a chance to do some good for someone who needs it. I see it as a chance to bring love and comfort to another. And despite the headaches, the heartaches, the stress and the madness, I truly enjoy what I'm doing right now. I know it's not for everyone, but right now I feel like it's a good fit for me.
But it's not all doom and gloom and sadness. I always tell people there's so much we can do for these kids. And even though they don't all go home happy and healthy, at least we brought them some measure of comfort. We did all that we could and there's no shame in that. You cant win all the fights, but at least we gave some a fighting chance. And we were there with them until the end. But don't get me wrong, not everyone who frequents our floor passes away or is terminally ill. The majority of our patients recover, beat the cancer, and go on to lead happy healthy lives. We just sent one of the cutest, sweetest babies home last week. Despite the sadness inherent in the job, there are many sources of joy and pride. One of my first patients was a new diagnosis and extremely ill. And although I thought I was messing things up and doing a poor job, the family thought I was taking good care of their daughter. They told the doctors/nurse practitioners that I was doing a great job and was attentive to their daughter's needs. And although that felt great to hear (because they told the team while I was in the room), the most satisfying part of my work with her was getting her to finally have a bowel movement. I know that sounds weird, and without going into the whole story behind it all, she basically needed to have a BM because she hadn't gone in almost 1.5 weeks. That was my biggest sense of relief, and I'm sure it was for her too haha
I don't see my job as sad and depressing. I see it as a chance to do some good for someone who needs it. I see it as a chance to bring love and comfort to another. And despite the headaches, the heartaches, the stress and the madness, I truly enjoy what I'm doing right now. I know it's not for everyone, but right now I feel like it's a good fit for me.