I love how a Dallas hospital initially blamed a nurse's "breach in safety protocol" for her diagnosis with Ebola. Nurses are continually blamed for EVERYTHING, from spreading infection to serving cold food (which really isn't my problem - but okay, I'll heat it up for you - and sure, I'll make you some fresh coffee, even though I have a patient on a bedpan and I'm sure she is pretty uncomfortable sitting on a hard plastic, trapezoid shaped device). My husband recently sat down and looked through a couple of my books and was amazed when I told him it was a tiny, TINY tip of the iceberg of recall knowledge that was enormous below the surface (FYI: ANYONE can be book smart and pass tests, but can they actually apply it in a clinical setting?) He is a chemist - he remembers the things he uses on a daily basis, which isn't necessarily everything he learned in college. I am a nurse. I am responsible for knowing everything about your diagnosis and possible treatment in a moment's recall. Nurses catch doctor's mistakes (a lot more often than you realize); nurses initiate most treatments, and more often than not, tell the doctors what the patient needs; nurses are constantly teaching the patient and family about their disease process, or what to expect when their loved one dies; nurses can recall with great accuracy just about anything you want to know about the medicines you're taking; great nurses are the foundation and glue that holds any hospital or health care facility together. We get cussed out by doctors at 3am when we call to let him know that his patient is tanking; we get vomited on, sexually harassed, and verbally/physically assaulted by agitated patients. We are the ones that provide the same dignified care to your father after his death, so your family can come in and say goodbye. We rarely get thanked when we catch a mistake or when we initiate CPR and save your brother's life, but if something unexpected happens, we get trashed. And what gets me the most is Nina Pham's employers just threw her under the proverbial bus. I wish I could tell her I am sorry for this happening to her. I hope she has a speedy recovery and is able to return to a job that I'm sure she loves. I hope she doesn't feel the hurt and stigma of an employer who is obviously trying to cover their own tracks. You know something, Texas Health Presbyterian? FUCK YOU. Next time any of you want to thank your doctor, DON'T. Push him out of the way and grab the nurse that does his work and takes abuse from him, and tell HER thank you - because she is the one that runs the show and has your best interest at heart. Peace, OUT.
I woke up at 3:10 in the morning. My fan died, and literally as soon as the white noise went away, my eyelids popped open. It's pretty sad when you can't sleep because it's too darn quiet in the room. After an hour of laying in the deafening silence listening to my husband breathe and being annoyed by it, I resorted to opening the bathroom door and turning the fan on - it was better than nothing, and eventually I fell back asleep. When did I become so intolerant of silence? Maybe the noise masks my own inner voice that won't shut up, or maybe I'm just getting way too set in my ways, but I can not sleep without some sort of noise barrier.
Barriers can be beneficial, say in a flood, but they also hold things in, so they are hindrances as well. I'm sitting here in a quiet room, and I can't think of the words I want to say. It's scary, because I used to be so articulate, and I worry that my mind is starting to fail me. For now, I'll just blame it on the barrier - the barrier of silence that won't permit my thoughts to escape. Somehow, I need to overcome this obstacle if I want to leave this place for a better one.
I've been conditioned my whole life to feel like I'm burdening someone. Who you ask? Well, anyone who happens to be in my life at the time. If I'm not making life miserable for my husband, then I'm driving my family crazy, or I've pissed a friend/acquaintance off on the almighty Facebook. I guess this 'awareness' of burden started when my father died - I was ten years old. My mother resented him for wanting to divorce her, but what really pissed her off was that he planned to take me with him if he did. I'm not sure if you get the jest of the previous statement, but my mom ended up punishing me for my father's disinterest in her. So yeah, it kinda sucked growing up. Well, that suckiness has managed to ooze and situate itself into and throughout my entire adult life.
I need to find a reason to exist, other than to make dinner and do the laundry. I crave a kind of solitude that comes only from believing that if no one else ever loved me again, it would be okay, and that I can survive on my own. I need to find the strength inside to pursue this, and I need to do it now, but...why am I so tired? Why do I feel so weak sometimes, but then other times I feel like I can do anything? How can I train myself to be confident and strong all the time?
What it boils down to is this: I don't have a clue who I am anymore. I have been a full time mother since the birth of my daughter, Ashley, almost twenty six years ago; the Teresa before that point has long been forgotten. My son, Evan, will be leaving for college in August 2013. That's eight months from now. In eight months, I will be a broken person. In eight months, I will be a miserable, depressed, and inconsolable human being who just doesn't care. They are my best friends. My babies will both be gone, and my house will be empty, except for the husband who acts like he just doesn't care anymore. My sister thinks I'm overreacting, and her judgement just screams, "Hey, look at me!! I'm the perfect mother who has her act together, or at least everyone THINKS I do! Every single thing you, my dear little sister, have ever done is wrong, and I'll never let you forget it - the way you're feeling right now is wrong, wrong, WRONG." And her husband, well, I've always felt like he graciously tolerates me, because he is so perfect, you know, just like everyone else in my life.
Maybe feeling this way is a good thing? Maybe it will light a fire under me that will motivate my journey of self discovery. Or, maybe I'll just get burned by the fire.
