On each photo (click to enlarge) I have a discription of what on earth your looking at. It's pretty gnarly stuff and I am so stoked to have figured out the scanner! Enjoy looking at my insides!
Showing posts with label surgery. Show all posts
Showing posts with label surgery. Show all posts
Monday, December 21, 2009
Wednesday, December 16, 2009
Update: A Shocking PT Session!
I LOVE going to PT. The surgeon seems amused at how well I am doing this quickly- which I contribute to my age and my fiancee harassing me to not overdo it. The best part is when the PT tells me to relax my arm, then he picks it up, cradles it against his chest and then stretches it out, watching his face as he expects a stiff shoulder and finds a very nice shoulder is a good thing. They seem to be very pleased. I don't need any more PT unless prescribed by the surgeon- which he just may not do at all seeing how the last two weeks have been.
My limits (as set by the surgeon) are 0-90 degrees in front of me, circles as my arm dangles (generally I lean onto a table or over a chair) and rotating my arm towards and away from my body. I look like a rock-em-sock-em robot. Today we got to 110 degrees before I even asked how far out we got. My PT just laughed and shook his head, Bubba is convinced he was shocked.
I was asked a lot today about the pain and what I was feeling. I was honest with my PT, even though the boys didn't believe it. Little to no pain, however I did have a ton of tightness in the shoulder socket. The pain that I did have was a knot by my neck. Knowing it was from my brace I let the PT know, however after some rubbing and poking he determined it needed to be looser. "Want some shock therapy?" He asked.
My mind pictured an electric chair and my eyes got wide. Bubba
burst out laughing and they both quickly explained to me what it was.
"Sure." I replied, figuring that whatever it was, it couldn't hurt too bad. He's only a PT after all.
He hooked me up to the machine (pictured above) and placed somewhere between 4-5 patches (seen to the left) on my shoulder, neck and back where the pain was. He turned on the machine and turned the 'pins and needles' feeling up until it almost hurt. He then placed a heat pack behind my shoulder and told me to relax for the next 15 minutes.
Let me tell you, it was heavenly. I laid back and closed my eyes, nearly falling asleep. Before I knew it the 15 minutes were up and they came in to disconnect me from it. The PT laughed as I asked him for more time on it- or to even take it home. He denied my request but told me that heating pads work. (I'm a chick, of course I know heating pads work!)
Since then I haven't needed pain meds. I am now two hours overdue and excited to see that the pain is gone. If anyone has the ability to have electrical therapy done, I highly recommend it- its very, very nice.
My limits (as set by the surgeon) are 0-90 degrees in front of me, circles as my arm dangles (generally I lean onto a table or over a chair) and rotating my arm towards and away from my body. I look like a rock-em-sock-em robot. Today we got to 110 degrees before I even asked how far out we got. My PT just laughed and shook his head, Bubba is convinced he was shocked.
I was asked a lot today about the pain and what I was feeling. I was honest with my PT, even though the boys didn't believe it. Little to no pain, however I did have a ton of tightness in the shoulder socket. The pain that I did have was a knot by my neck. Knowing it was from my brace I let the PT know, however after some rubbing and poking he determined it needed to be looser. "Want some shock therapy?" He asked.My mind pictured an electric chair and my eyes got wide. Bubba
burst out laughing and they both quickly explained to me what it was."Sure." I replied, figuring that whatever it was, it couldn't hurt too bad. He's only a PT after all.
He hooked me up to the machine (pictured above) and placed somewhere between 4-5 patches (seen to the left) on my shoulder, neck and back where the pain was. He turned on the machine and turned the 'pins and needles' feeling up until it almost hurt. He then placed a heat pack behind my shoulder and told me to relax for the next 15 minutes.
Let me tell you, it was heavenly. I laid back and closed my eyes, nearly falling asleep. Before I knew it the 15 minutes were up and they came in to disconnect me from it. The PT laughed as I asked him for more time on it- or to even take it home. He denied my request but told me that heating pads work. (I'm a chick, of course I know heating pads work!)
Since then I haven't needed pain meds. I am now two hours overdue and excited to see that the pain is gone. If anyone has the ability to have electrical therapy done, I highly recommend it- its very, very nice.
Sunday, December 13, 2009
Rest and Relaxation
We go into medicine because we have a drive to help people. Whether it be clinical or personal we like people, we want to fix people, we want to make a difference. We choose our field depending on the level of help we want to give. Surgeons want to be god but not have to deal with the people problems, they are glorified mechanics. Nurses like to help people, and all willing to deal with any and all of the shit thats thrown their way- patients are worth it.
Problem is that we are far too busy fixing others that we take a moment to fix ourselves. We don't eat well, sleep well or exercise as often as we need to. We eat junk food and take hour long naps instead of a decent nights sleep. Our bodies learn to adapt, but we wear down quicker- before we know it, we are the patient.
Being the patient isn't as bad as we make it out to be. There isn't much to do, and any medical professional will be the first to tell you that it gets old quick. You take your meds, read, eat, potty, and sleep. Movies and television become a bore, and errands seem fun for the first time in years, because its something to do. But during all the boring crap and tedious tasks you finally get to rest.
We need the rest. We need the time to recuperate. We need to care for ourselves so we can fully help others and be the healers we want to be.
During all of this I have been pushing it. I have been folding clothes when I shouldn't be, moving large boxes and trying so hard to be productive. During times when I am not in recovery from a shoulder surgery I am a hard-working non-stop go-getter, so lying on my butt all day watching Scrubs and playing Halo 3 is killing me. As I lay there, resting I see the piles of laundry and sit there, wanting to do it, so I do. I know I shouldn't- I totally know I shouldn't- but I don't feel like I should rest like I need to- its foreign to me.
Finally I got a chewing out to end all chewing outs by my fiance. I had kicked around a heavy box that held a safe and got it set up. I didn't use my left arm at all, but it still was way too heavy for me. That day I had also done some laundry and cleaned up the apartment- and that night I lay in tears from the terrible pain. I knew i overdid it so I kept quiet- I did this to myself after all.
"NO!" He said as I tried to move a laundry basket. I crawled into bed and sighed, feeling useless yet again. Luckily, Bubba is very helpful and doesn't complain about helping me out. He opens all the doors, carries anything that needs to be carried and even helps me get my seatbelt on in the car (if you saw the size of my brace you would understand- I can't see two feet in front of me because of it!). He sat down next to me, wrapping his arms around me. "Dani." He started. "You need to rest. You need to relax. This is your time to heal- and you can't screw that up." I sighed- he was right but I didn't want to admit it. "I have no issues taking care of you, so please, just let me."
So I'm trying to do the one thing I have never done before- rest. All my life I have been a stubborn Aries and that is kicking my butt now because for the first time I have to take a vacation from life. Something I have never done, and am hoping is easy for me to do- however, its not looking like it will be.
The surgical site is healing well, some of the incisions don't even look like incisions! Only two are left covered by band-aids because they have a scab on them. I am really glad to see how well they are healing and excited to get more PT done. So far I am doing really good and behaving in that sense- and I can't wait for the surgeon to 'ok' me to get back to daily life...but that won't be til January 5th!
(Luckily my friend gets home from Iraq this week and Bubba's done with the first half of school- which means at least I'll have friends to play Halo 3 with!)
Until then, I suggest we all try to rest. If working your ass off isn't enough, imagine doing it during the holidays. Let's all try to take a day off- I know it's tough, but it's something everyone needs.
Problem is that we are far too busy fixing others that we take a moment to fix ourselves. We don't eat well, sleep well or exercise as often as we need to. We eat junk food and take hour long naps instead of a decent nights sleep. Our bodies learn to adapt, but we wear down quicker- before we know it, we are the patient.
Being the patient isn't as bad as we make it out to be. There isn't much to do, and any medical professional will be the first to tell you that it gets old quick. You take your meds, read, eat, potty, and sleep. Movies and television become a bore, and errands seem fun for the first time in years, because its something to do. But during all the boring crap and tedious tasks you finally get to rest.
We need the rest. We need the time to recuperate. We need to care for ourselves so we can fully help others and be the healers we want to be.
During all of this I have been pushing it. I have been folding clothes when I shouldn't be, moving large boxes and trying so hard to be productive. During times when I am not in recovery from a shoulder surgery I am a hard-working non-stop go-getter, so lying on my butt all day watching Scrubs and playing Halo 3 is killing me. As I lay there, resting I see the piles of laundry and sit there, wanting to do it, so I do. I know I shouldn't- I totally know I shouldn't- but I don't feel like I should rest like I need to- its foreign to me.
Finally I got a chewing out to end all chewing outs by my fiance. I had kicked around a heavy box that held a safe and got it set up. I didn't use my left arm at all, but it still was way too heavy for me. That day I had also done some laundry and cleaned up the apartment- and that night I lay in tears from the terrible pain. I knew i overdid it so I kept quiet- I did this to myself after all.
"NO!" He said as I tried to move a laundry basket. I crawled into bed and sighed, feeling useless yet again. Luckily, Bubba is very helpful and doesn't complain about helping me out. He opens all the doors, carries anything that needs to be carried and even helps me get my seatbelt on in the car (if you saw the size of my brace you would understand- I can't see two feet in front of me because of it!). He sat down next to me, wrapping his arms around me. "Dani." He started. "You need to rest. You need to relax. This is your time to heal- and you can't screw that up." I sighed- he was right but I didn't want to admit it. "I have no issues taking care of you, so please, just let me."
So I'm trying to do the one thing I have never done before- rest. All my life I have been a stubborn Aries and that is kicking my butt now because for the first time I have to take a vacation from life. Something I have never done, and am hoping is easy for me to do- however, its not looking like it will be.
The surgical site is healing well, some of the incisions don't even look like incisions! Only two are left covered by band-aids because they have a scab on them. I am really glad to see how well they are healing and excited to get more PT done. So far I am doing really good and behaving in that sense- and I can't wait for the surgeon to 'ok' me to get back to daily life...but that won't be til January 5th!
(Luckily my friend gets home from Iraq this week and Bubba's done with the first half of school- which means at least I'll have friends to play Halo 3 with!)
Until then, I suggest we all try to rest. If working your ass off isn't enough, imagine doing it during the holidays. Let's all try to take a day off- I know it's tough, but it's something everyone needs.
Monday, December 7, 2009
Another Update
Hey there, I know its been a little bit since I've had a decent post, and for that I apologize. Lately its been boring. I figured I would at least answer the questions I have been getting from my readers - How am I doing? I was shocked to see e-mails pouring in from some of my readers wanting to know how things are doing surgery wise. I figured I had bored all y'all to death and when numerous IM's came in I was really thrown for a loop. First off, thanks. It means alot to me.
My shoulder is stiff, but it doesn't necessarily hurt. Pain, there is little to none. If I sit in the sling too long or don't do my PT every so many hours I hurt, but it's like the pain you get after a good workout. Everyone seems to be shocked I'm only on Tylenol, but it works for me. As for PT I have Bubba help with my arm lifts to 90 degrees, its my favorite, it feels SO GOOD! Then I can let my arm hang and do circles 2-3 times a day. That works out nicely because it helps with loosening up my arm. Dressing and undressing has gotten easier. I still need an incredible amount of help with nearly everything- but I'm getting better.
However I miss my job. I miss doing things every day. My life consists of sleeping, getting up to take pain meds and do PT, and either watching movies or playing video games. As much as I thought I would love it, I actually hate it. The Christmas presents can't be wrapped, the apartment can't be cleaned, and more than anything, I have become the patient. The helpless feeling sucks.
The thing about the job we do is that we take it away from ourselves. As I'm stuck hanging out I'm trying to think of ways to save the world and feel like crap that I can't. I wonder how I can make a difference, how I can further myself in life, how can I make that difference I always wanted to. We take these things for granted, the ability to comb our own hair, or even lift a bottle of water to our lips. The ability to sleep on our sides or stomach, and the ability to cut our own meat. I'm an over sized two-year-old- but I'm catching on to how the patients may be feeling.
I would never wish this on anybody, but I wish I could explain the eye-opening experience this has been for me. When the medications made me ill and dehydrated, I knew what would happen, but I was still scared to death. When the chief anesthesiologist couldn't get a vein on me, I knew what it meant, but it still hurt, and still worried me. They explained everything I didn't understand well, but I still worried about what they didn't explain to me. Feeling helpless, I worry about being a burden to others. I hate asking for help when it comes time to shower or when I need my hair placed in a ponytail, because I know it's a huge favor to ask. My incisions look good from a medical standpoint, but I still worry that I am not paying enough attention. Could they be infected? Did the steri-strips fall off too soon? Suddenly I realize what my patients are thinking, worrying and wondering about.
It's a mind boggling experience, but an eye opener everyone should have at least once in their lives. I just hope that they can learn from my experience, not their own.
Until then, BSI!
My shoulder is stiff, but it doesn't necessarily hurt. Pain, there is little to none. If I sit in the sling too long or don't do my PT every so many hours I hurt, but it's like the pain you get after a good workout. Everyone seems to be shocked I'm only on Tylenol, but it works for me. As for PT I have Bubba help with my arm lifts to 90 degrees, its my favorite, it feels SO GOOD! Then I can let my arm hang and do circles 2-3 times a day. That works out nicely because it helps with loosening up my arm. Dressing and undressing has gotten easier. I still need an incredible amount of help with nearly everything- but I'm getting better.
However I miss my job. I miss doing things every day. My life consists of sleeping, getting up to take pain meds and do PT, and either watching movies or playing video games. As much as I thought I would love it, I actually hate it. The Christmas presents can't be wrapped, the apartment can't be cleaned, and more than anything, I have become the patient. The helpless feeling sucks.
The thing about the job we do is that we take it away from ourselves. As I'm stuck hanging out I'm trying to think of ways to save the world and feel like crap that I can't. I wonder how I can make a difference, how I can further myself in life, how can I make that difference I always wanted to. We take these things for granted, the ability to comb our own hair, or even lift a bottle of water to our lips. The ability to sleep on our sides or stomach, and the ability to cut our own meat. I'm an over sized two-year-old- but I'm catching on to how the patients may be feeling.
I would never wish this on anybody, but I wish I could explain the eye-opening experience this has been for me. When the medications made me ill and dehydrated, I knew what would happen, but I was still scared to death. When the chief anesthesiologist couldn't get a vein on me, I knew what it meant, but it still hurt, and still worried me. They explained everything I didn't understand well, but I still worried about what they didn't explain to me. Feeling helpless, I worry about being a burden to others. I hate asking for help when it comes time to shower or when I need my hair placed in a ponytail, because I know it's a huge favor to ask. My incisions look good from a medical standpoint, but I still worry that I am not paying enough attention. Could they be infected? Did the steri-strips fall off too soon? Suddenly I realize what my patients are thinking, worrying and wondering about.
It's a mind boggling experience, but an eye opener everyone should have at least once in their lives. I just hope that they can learn from my experience, not their own.
Until then, BSI!
Tuesday, November 17, 2009
Scared. Worried. But Ok.
Last night was offically my last shift for the next 12 weeks. After that I am going to become an 'assistant' and do all the paperwork and such that the charges can't keep up with. It was an easy shift- all great patients who needed no lifts or special care. My problem was that I did some lifts and today I am hurting.
At this point I have accepted that I will be having surgery. I have also accepted the fact that its for a good reason. When Im awake only 3 hours and immediately need pain meds, it's a good thing. Somehow within he last few weeks it must have damaged more, but I'm gonna fix it.
Yep, I'm still terrified. I am still scared, but its not as bad. The fear of my boss seeing me naked isn't as bad. My catherter is in when I am out and is removed before I wake up. My bupivicane block will prevent pain for the first few days.
On the day of surgery I have asked that my fiance post for me. I may wake up early and post something. He will post photos, updates, and anything else he sees fit. I will see it all later on, so don't be afraid to comment or e-mail! As soon as I am used to the heavy narcs and can see straight (lortab makes me fuzzy) I will post again.
Until then guys, BSI
At this point I have accepted that I will be having surgery. I have also accepted the fact that its for a good reason. When Im awake only 3 hours and immediately need pain meds, it's a good thing. Somehow within he last few weeks it must have damaged more, but I'm gonna fix it.
Yep, I'm still terrified. I am still scared, but its not as bad. The fear of my boss seeing me naked isn't as bad. My catherter is in when I am out and is removed before I wake up. My bupivicane block will prevent pain for the first few days.
On the day of surgery I have asked that my fiance post for me. I may wake up early and post something. He will post photos, updates, and anything else he sees fit. I will see it all later on, so don't be afraid to comment or e-mail! As soon as I am used to the heavy narcs and can see straight (lortab makes me fuzzy) I will post again.
Until then guys, BSI
Sunday, November 15, 2009
One of my Last Shifts
He whimpered softly, being a man of only few words as he reached out and grabbed my hand. I took his hand and held it, letting his mind focus on that instead of the pain. We sat there quietly and after a moment I took the side rail down and sat on the edge of the bed.
The nurse came in and gave him his meds, as I let go to leave he whimpered again. Words didn't need to be said as I turned on my heel and returned to that exact same spot. He sighed in relief as he reached out his hand again, and I took it. The sound of the television drown out all the noise from the plexi-pulse boots, the IV pump and the pulse ox. His eyes stared at the television until they got incredibly heavy, and finally he dosed off to sleep.
"You're an old school kind of aide." My replacement tells me. I had been training her all night to do my job, however she had been an aide for almost as long as I have. I nodded my head, knowing full well I was not the norm nowadays when it comes to aides.
Her patient was on the call light every three minutes, with complaints like 'my pillow hurts', 'fix my ipod', 'talk to me, i cant sleep' and even inappropriate questions like, 'what does an orgasm feel like?' We both sighed at it. It felt as if we were working peds instead of an adult unit. However, she was incredibly patient with her and finally gotten her settled, so we hope.
The night flew by so incredibly fast. I watched it sadly. This wasn't my last shift at the hospital, but it was the last one at my favorite unit. Bitterly I sighed as it hit 6 a.m. One hour left to go.
The call light from my replacements patient continued to go off roughly every three minutes. I sighed and shook my head and tried to help her answer the call, but she wouldn't allow me in there, promising me that if I was seen, I wouldn't get out of there before 10 a.m.
The day shift came in and waited to get report. The night had been spent talking, exchanging funny medical stories and our thoughts on everything from kids to Obama. I let the replacement give report on our three patients, and then waited quietly. Everyone else was doing their own thing, and in this small family everyone was always so sweet and knew what was going on in every ones lives. I waited for my nurse to return so I could say goodbye- I wouldn't see them until Feburary 10th at least- but she never did.
I said my goodbyes, but no one said anything in return. I left quietly, the weight of the world on my shoulders, worried about my patients, my replacements and my surgery.
Two nights have passed and I don't sleep anymore. I sneak out of bed in the middle of the night and watch the snow fall quietly outside. I bundle up in my pajama pants and my blankets, turning on medical shows and movies, trying to drown out the worry. All of it is unsuccessful.
I'll be doing everything so much slower, but I'll have time to do it slower. I'm ordered to a immobilizing sling for 6 weeks. I'm not allowed to lift over 2 lbs for 12 weeks. I return to work and can only lift things under 10 lbs. Impossible for an aide. I worry about work- will they fire me when I can't keep up? Will they work with me? I worry about my mental health- 12 weeks not doing anything is a long time. 6 weeks in a sling- not being able to do anything will drive me insane! Yet I just keep trying to calm myself down. I listen to bagpipes and world tunes, singing loudly to German melodies and relaxing to Hawaiian songs. We go for car rides every day, letting the road run over my stress.
This is for a reason - this is so that I can qualify the fitness portion of Paramedic school. This is so that I can keep going on with my life. Without it I won't be able to lift babies out of a crib, let alone patients into an ambulance. Without it I would be disabled in less than three years. With it, and alot of P.T. I will be in the best shape of my life, because for the first time in five years, I won't be babying a large injury.
I just gotta keep reminding myself that.
The nurse came in and gave him his meds, as I let go to leave he whimpered again. Words didn't need to be said as I turned on my heel and returned to that exact same spot. He sighed in relief as he reached out his hand again, and I took it. The sound of the television drown out all the noise from the plexi-pulse boots, the IV pump and the pulse ox. His eyes stared at the television until they got incredibly heavy, and finally he dosed off to sleep.
"You're an old school kind of aide." My replacement tells me. I had been training her all night to do my job, however she had been an aide for almost as long as I have. I nodded my head, knowing full well I was not the norm nowadays when it comes to aides.
Her patient was on the call light every three minutes, with complaints like 'my pillow hurts', 'fix my ipod', 'talk to me, i cant sleep' and even inappropriate questions like, 'what does an orgasm feel like?' We both sighed at it. It felt as if we were working peds instead of an adult unit. However, she was incredibly patient with her and finally gotten her settled, so we hope.
The night flew by so incredibly fast. I watched it sadly. This wasn't my last shift at the hospital, but it was the last one at my favorite unit. Bitterly I sighed as it hit 6 a.m. One hour left to go.
The call light from my replacements patient continued to go off roughly every three minutes. I sighed and shook my head and tried to help her answer the call, but she wouldn't allow me in there, promising me that if I was seen, I wouldn't get out of there before 10 a.m.
The day shift came in and waited to get report. The night had been spent talking, exchanging funny medical stories and our thoughts on everything from kids to Obama. I let the replacement give report on our three patients, and then waited quietly. Everyone else was doing their own thing, and in this small family everyone was always so sweet and knew what was going on in every ones lives. I waited for my nurse to return so I could say goodbye- I wouldn't see them until Feburary 10th at least- but she never did.
I said my goodbyes, but no one said anything in return. I left quietly, the weight of the world on my shoulders, worried about my patients, my replacements and my surgery.
Two nights have passed and I don't sleep anymore. I sneak out of bed in the middle of the night and watch the snow fall quietly outside. I bundle up in my pajama pants and my blankets, turning on medical shows and movies, trying to drown out the worry. All of it is unsuccessful.
I'll be doing everything so much slower, but I'll have time to do it slower. I'm ordered to a immobilizing sling for 6 weeks. I'm not allowed to lift over 2 lbs for 12 weeks. I return to work and can only lift things under 10 lbs. Impossible for an aide. I worry about work- will they fire me when I can't keep up? Will they work with me? I worry about my mental health- 12 weeks not doing anything is a long time. 6 weeks in a sling- not being able to do anything will drive me insane! Yet I just keep trying to calm myself down. I listen to bagpipes and world tunes, singing loudly to German melodies and relaxing to Hawaiian songs. We go for car rides every day, letting the road run over my stress.
This is for a reason - this is so that I can qualify the fitness portion of Paramedic school. This is so that I can keep going on with my life. Without it I won't be able to lift babies out of a crib, let alone patients into an ambulance. Without it I would be disabled in less than three years. With it, and alot of P.T. I will be in the best shape of my life, because for the first time in five years, I won't be babying a large injury.
I just gotta keep reminding myself that.
Wednesday, October 7, 2009
Brought to my Knees
Great Paramedics are not born. Saving lives is not genetically programmed into you. Being great is something that you have to become, and greatness is not an easy thing to be. You could study paramedicine for years and still be one of the worst Paramedics ever. Great Paramedics are the true heroes, because to become good, you had to go through hell, mediocre, drama, death and heaven only knows what else. To become GREAT you must go through more.
Last night it hit me why I am doing all of this. I was denied into EMT-Intermediate school because of my shoulder. I struggled through EMT-Basic and other classes nearly killed me, trying to do lifts, techniques, etc. I signed up for health insurance and went to the best of the best for a reason- so that I can get on with my life. Never thinking twice about anything due to my young age I didn't stop to realize that this wasn't all bad drama. Most of it is for the best.
It is so hard to see the good in this when I am out most of the week due to pain. I am on Ultram most of the time to control pain and swelling until my surgery date. I sleep with an icepack on my shoulder now because its the easiest way to wake up in small amounts of pain. It's hard to plan and prepare for a surgery that I don't want. But I need it.
During this past week I went to the mall for some surgery friendly clothes. Knowing I would only have one arm I realized scrubs and sweats were all I could live in for those 6-10 weeks. However I have never owned a pair of sweats, so I had to go find some. Dressing room to dressing room I went, with a soft sling and strapping my arm up so that I had to put it on one handed. I found lots of sweats and that was an easy task.
Then came tube tops (which came doctor recommended due to my sling I will have). I went into the dressing room with a few tops, and explained to the store employee what the deal was. She rolled her eyes and sighed but I continued to try them on one handed. Halfway through trying them on she called me out, and accused me of stealing. When I tried to change back into my clothes the door knocked again. She had called security who proceeded to check my bags and my purse. I again explained to them, I was even wearing my shoulder support brace, which is big, black and bulky. Impossible to hide.
This morning I woke up sick. Spent a good portion of my day at the doctors office, only to be given antibiotics with a hope that they will work. He still doesn't know what it is, but he narrowed it down to two. Sadly the gal who drew my blood missed and stuck me twice, something that rarely happens. I'm already bruised- its quite awesome really. I have done blood draws on myself so it somewhat shocks me when others miss.
It is so hard to see the bright side in all of this. Most girls my age are in sorority's and worried about getting a boys attention. Instead I am worried about patients and surgeries and applying to Paramedic school and everything else in between. BUT it really is for the best.
One day I am going to be an amazing Paramedic. I am going to be able to start lines, drop tubes, run codes and give meds like no ones business. One day I am going to be able to lift stretchers, save lives and have compassion and give care like no other Paramedic. But that one day will have to come after a long extensive surgery (5 hours) and a long recovery period (16 weeks). However, when I get post-surgical patients and broken bones I will be able to understand what my patient is going through. When I put someone in my rig I will understand the fear they feel. I will understand the worry, the stress and the pain. This will make me better.
Being able to be down for awhile will give me the time I need to slow down and think. It will give me time to research Paramedic programs and plan out how I will go about getting there. I will be able to know that I am being taught the best of the best and that I am going to graduate with the knowledge I need to be that great Paramedic.
Reading up on other blogs I came to realize that other Paramedics who are great have been through hell and back, and that they too have been brought to their knees. So tonight I fall to my knees and drop my voice to a whisper as I cry and pray for those other medics, and then pray for myself. Asking for help is not an easy thing to do, but it's the smart thing to do when you know you need it.
Last night it hit me why I am doing all of this. I was denied into EMT-Intermediate school because of my shoulder. I struggled through EMT-Basic and other classes nearly killed me, trying to do lifts, techniques, etc. I signed up for health insurance and went to the best of the best for a reason- so that I can get on with my life. Never thinking twice about anything due to my young age I didn't stop to realize that this wasn't all bad drama. Most of it is for the best.
It is so hard to see the good in this when I am out most of the week due to pain. I am on Ultram most of the time to control pain and swelling until my surgery date. I sleep with an icepack on my shoulder now because its the easiest way to wake up in small amounts of pain. It's hard to plan and prepare for a surgery that I don't want. But I need it.
During this past week I went to the mall for some surgery friendly clothes. Knowing I would only have one arm I realized scrubs and sweats were all I could live in for those 6-10 weeks. However I have never owned a pair of sweats, so I had to go find some. Dressing room to dressing room I went, with a soft sling and strapping my arm up so that I had to put it on one handed. I found lots of sweats and that was an easy task.
Then came tube tops (which came doctor recommended due to my sling I will have). I went into the dressing room with a few tops, and explained to the store employee what the deal was. She rolled her eyes and sighed but I continued to try them on one handed. Halfway through trying them on she called me out, and accused me of stealing. When I tried to change back into my clothes the door knocked again. She had called security who proceeded to check my bags and my purse. I again explained to them, I was even wearing my shoulder support brace, which is big, black and bulky. Impossible to hide.
This morning I woke up sick. Spent a good portion of my day at the doctors office, only to be given antibiotics with a hope that they will work. He still doesn't know what it is, but he narrowed it down to two. Sadly the gal who drew my blood missed and stuck me twice, something that rarely happens. I'm already bruised- its quite awesome really. I have done blood draws on myself so it somewhat shocks me when others miss.
It is so hard to see the bright side in all of this. Most girls my age are in sorority's and worried about getting a boys attention. Instead I am worried about patients and surgeries and applying to Paramedic school and everything else in between. BUT it really is for the best.
One day I am going to be an amazing Paramedic. I am going to be able to start lines, drop tubes, run codes and give meds like no ones business. One day I am going to be able to lift stretchers, save lives and have compassion and give care like no other Paramedic. But that one day will have to come after a long extensive surgery (5 hours) and a long recovery period (16 weeks). However, when I get post-surgical patients and broken bones I will be able to understand what my patient is going through. When I put someone in my rig I will understand the fear they feel. I will understand the worry, the stress and the pain. This will make me better.
Being able to be down for awhile will give me the time I need to slow down and think. It will give me time to research Paramedic programs and plan out how I will go about getting there. I will be able to know that I am being taught the best of the best and that I am going to graduate with the knowledge I need to be that great Paramedic.
Reading up on other blogs I came to realize that other Paramedics who are great have been through hell and back, and that they too have been brought to their knees. So tonight I fall to my knees and drop my voice to a whisper as I cry and pray for those other medics, and then pray for myself. Asking for help is not an easy thing to do, but it's the smart thing to do when you know you need it.
Wednesday, September 23, 2009
Just Do It
You haven't heard alot from me lately bloggers, and with good reason. It's been a busy week or two, working with school, picking up extra shifts and working longer ones than expected and having long sleepless nights just to talk about life and all those damn in-betweens that go on from your goal and where you are now.
The job is good, the job is great. Lately it's been a big stress and an even bigger hassle. At my hospital we have an extra unit called a 'float unit' where we hire RN's, CNA's and LPN's who go to any unit that needs extra staff. It's a helpful unit, however recently we had an issue with a float CNA at my unit. She was causing problems, being snitty and even yelling at patients. She wanted to order food, so we okayed her to order in a pizza. Both nurses told her no meat and I told her no heavy garlic (I am allergic.) She ordered a chicken garlic pizza. We all ate one piece just to make her feel better, but I was sure regretting it. She rode equipment around and sand loudly in spanish, making it hard for the patients to sleep. I work nights, you don't make noise. At the end of the shift everyone was appaled when management offered her a job. Needless to say we panicked and had to speak up. Luckily they listen to us and she will not be my new partner.
Monday I am set to get a contrast MRI done. I am really nervous but am glad that I am doing it where I work. My co-workers are all awesome people, and I honestly do trust them to do a good job. They do it whether they know I am a patient or not. Wednesday I am all set for a follow-up with my shoulder surgeon.
I'm gonna do it. I am going to have my surgery. The ideal date to do it on would be in November, right before Thanksgiving. It's not that I want to ruin the holidays, It's that I would get lots of holiday pay while I am out. It's going to be a long 12 weeks, so here is hoping that there are some decent holiday specials. My nurses are amazing and have helped me plan out my leave from the day of sugery to the day I want to get back. They are even trying to get me to work more hours over there, instead of the med/surg unit, so that I don't ruin a fresh surgery.
Meanwhile the boy is still in POST and is loving it. He comes home excited every night trying to convince me to let him do the things he was taught in class. Last night he learned searches, so he felt up everybody he could find, including his grandma. For awhile there, I was worried about him being a cop, thinking that he wouldn't do so great at it, but now, he is doing awesome.
The job is good, the job is great. Lately it's been a big stress and an even bigger hassle. At my hospital we have an extra unit called a 'float unit' where we hire RN's, CNA's and LPN's who go to any unit that needs extra staff. It's a helpful unit, however recently we had an issue with a float CNA at my unit. She was causing problems, being snitty and even yelling at patients. She wanted to order food, so we okayed her to order in a pizza. Both nurses told her no meat and I told her no heavy garlic (I am allergic.) She ordered a chicken garlic pizza. We all ate one piece just to make her feel better, but I was sure regretting it. She rode equipment around and sand loudly in spanish, making it hard for the patients to sleep. I work nights, you don't make noise. At the end of the shift everyone was appaled when management offered her a job. Needless to say we panicked and had to speak up. Luckily they listen to us and she will not be my new partner.
Monday I am set to get a contrast MRI done. I am really nervous but am glad that I am doing it where I work. My co-workers are all awesome people, and I honestly do trust them to do a good job. They do it whether they know I am a patient or not. Wednesday I am all set for a follow-up with my shoulder surgeon.
I'm gonna do it. I am going to have my surgery. The ideal date to do it on would be in November, right before Thanksgiving. It's not that I want to ruin the holidays, It's that I would get lots of holiday pay while I am out. It's going to be a long 12 weeks, so here is hoping that there are some decent holiday specials. My nurses are amazing and have helped me plan out my leave from the day of sugery to the day I want to get back. They are even trying to get me to work more hours over there, instead of the med/surg unit, so that I don't ruin a fresh surgery.
Meanwhile the boy is still in POST and is loving it. He comes home excited every night trying to convince me to let him do the things he was taught in class. Last night he learned searches, so he felt up everybody he could find, including his grandma. For awhile there, I was worried about him being a cop, thinking that he wouldn't do so great at it, but now, he is doing awesome.
Saturday, September 5, 2009
Operation.
It hasn't hit me yet. I wonder when it will hit me, or if it will until I finally decide to go with it. The entirety of it all still makes me believe that it was a dream. I am known to have vivid, colored dreams jam-packed with drama and bad news. Maybe it was just a bad dream.
The surgeon I visited for my shoulder surgery came by today and spoke with me and the nurse for a few moments. Knowing he was still here I was waiting for his patient and dismissed the thought of him being the one I needed to meet with to discuss my surgery further. As I got the supplies for a new admit ready I thought back to one of the many reasons I don't want to do the surgery yet.
___
It was six in the morning, time for residents to come by and review patient information and situation. After letting them do their rounds with their assigned patients I approached one. "You are Dr.Shoulder's resident right?" I asked.
"Yeah, what do you want?" He asked harshly, never looking up from his paperwork.
"I was wondering if you knew where I could find a shoulder stabilization brace. Preferably one made out of neoprene. Does that have to be written as a prescription or-"
"What the hell makes you think you need one of those?" He asked harshly looking up to me. "You don't need one." He said and returned to his paperwork. Angry I stepped towards him and put my hand on his chart. My pulse raced, my adrenaline began flowing through my veins and my mind was geared on one thing.
"Dr.Shoulder told me I need a shoulder stabilization procedure. I cannot have this surgery done. I need a frickin' brace so that when I get your patient out of bed I wont injure them or myself further. You gonna help me or you gonna be an ass?" I snarled, feeling my orneriness taking over. He slammed the chart shut and walked off. He decided he was going to be an ass .
____
As I heard the voices of Nurse California and Dr. Shoulder I stopped and smiled, saying a quiet hello.
"Yeah, Nurse Cali, I agree, she needs it done soon so that she can be more beneficial as an aide, but it will also improve quality of life." He said, almost an exact quote from what he had told me when I sat in his office. They both looked to me as they leaned against the Nurses station.
"You need that shoulder surgery." She said, giving me a knowing look. I smiled and felt guilty for not even trying to pursue it yet. "We are gonna help you figure out a time when you can do it."
As I looked at the calendar and tried to plan out dates and times and how exactly to make this happen I kept letting my mind wander. It is something I have learned to live with. It is something that is a part of my life now, and I have adapted to it. Not even the MRI and the Xrays have let me know that it is real, and at this point I am positive I won't be feeling reality until I am in a gown going under TIVA.
Sometimes being young and naive isn't as awesome as we all believe it to be. This is one of those cases I wish I was more grown up and could handle this like one.
How can I make it more real? And how can I convince myself that I need to do this, and soon, before I shred it up even more?
The surgeon I visited for my shoulder surgery came by today and spoke with me and the nurse for a few moments. Knowing he was still here I was waiting for his patient and dismissed the thought of him being the one I needed to meet with to discuss my surgery further. As I got the supplies for a new admit ready I thought back to one of the many reasons I don't want to do the surgery yet.
___
It was six in the morning, time for residents to come by and review patient information and situation. After letting them do their rounds with their assigned patients I approached one. "You are Dr.Shoulder's resident right?" I asked.
"Yeah, what do you want?" He asked harshly, never looking up from his paperwork.
"I was wondering if you knew where I could find a shoulder stabilization brace. Preferably one made out of neoprene. Does that have to be written as a prescription or-"
"What the hell makes you think you need one of those?" He asked harshly looking up to me. "You don't need one." He said and returned to his paperwork. Angry I stepped towards him and put my hand on his chart. My pulse raced, my adrenaline began flowing through my veins and my mind was geared on one thing.
"Dr.Shoulder told me I need a shoulder stabilization procedure. I cannot have this surgery done. I need a frickin' brace so that when I get your patient out of bed I wont injure them or myself further. You gonna help me or you gonna be an ass?" I snarled, feeling my orneriness taking over. He slammed the chart shut and walked off. He decided he was going to be an ass .
____
As I heard the voices of Nurse California and Dr. Shoulder I stopped and smiled, saying a quiet hello.
"Yeah, Nurse Cali, I agree, she needs it done soon so that she can be more beneficial as an aide, but it will also improve quality of life." He said, almost an exact quote from what he had told me when I sat in his office. They both looked to me as they leaned against the Nurses station.
"You need that shoulder surgery." She said, giving me a knowing look. I smiled and felt guilty for not even trying to pursue it yet. "We are gonna help you figure out a time when you can do it."
As I looked at the calendar and tried to plan out dates and times and how exactly to make this happen I kept letting my mind wander. It is something I have learned to live with. It is something that is a part of my life now, and I have adapted to it. Not even the MRI and the Xrays have let me know that it is real, and at this point I am positive I won't be feeling reality until I am in a gown going under TIVA.
Sometimes being young and naive isn't as awesome as we all believe it to be. This is one of those cases I wish I was more grown up and could handle this like one.
How can I make it more real? And how can I convince myself that I need to do this, and soon, before I shred it up even more?
Tuesday, August 4, 2009
Surgery
I work in surgery. I work at the exact place I went to for my appointments. I work with that surgeon, and have worked one-on-one with him and his patients many times. I know the situation, but instead of the scrubs, I was the gown.
As soon as I placed the gown on and he asked me to stand to see what I can and cannot do, I realized this was business. He played with my range of motion and frankly put me into way more pain than I had bargained for in a one-hour visit. He could see that my joint was loose, but he had no idea how loose we were talking about. As soon as we sat down to talk he told me that he found things on my MRI, but I needed a different one.
Fantastic. There goes my paycheck.
As we spoke it became apparent to me what I need to do to even attempt to become a Paramedic. Its not just going to school anymore. When I can no longer hug my fiance, when I can no longer make a bed (a big part of life as well as life as a CNA), and when I can barely lift a patient, I knew it was time to call in the big shots. I am gonna need to have a surgery to do my job as an aide, as well as even consider being eligible to reach my dreams.
He explained the procedure well, and I can honestly say he is the best doctor I have been to yet, making sure I understood the procedure. Even his student was well educated and knew exactly what should be done (not bad for a first year resident!). But as I drove home with my mother I kept thinking to myself about the whole thing.
My injury ached, it creaked and it throbbed. I am a 20-year-old female with high aspirations and now this. No one my age should be in this much pain, but then again, I know I have a high pain threshold (I broke my collarbone and didn't know it until this shoulder injury years later when the injury had healed itself). How much pain am I really in?
As I stared down the freeway it seemed endless, somewhat like my dreams of becoming a Paramedic. Would I ever find the end and reach my dreams, or will I have to jump off an exit too soon and give it up? Would I ever have the glory and the richness of that first real save?
Tonight I continue to try to keep the pain under control and keep my mind off of this now touchy subject, hoping that inspiration will find me and that I will know what to do. But until then, I sit back, enjoy my pepsi and try not to feel overwhelmed about it all.
As soon as I placed the gown on and he asked me to stand to see what I can and cannot do, I realized this was business. He played with my range of motion and frankly put me into way more pain than I had bargained for in a one-hour visit. He could see that my joint was loose, but he had no idea how loose we were talking about. As soon as we sat down to talk he told me that he found things on my MRI, but I needed a different one.
Fantastic. There goes my paycheck.
As we spoke it became apparent to me what I need to do to even attempt to become a Paramedic. Its not just going to school anymore. When I can no longer hug my fiance, when I can no longer make a bed (a big part of life as well as life as a CNA), and when I can barely lift a patient, I knew it was time to call in the big shots. I am gonna need to have a surgery to do my job as an aide, as well as even consider being eligible to reach my dreams.
He explained the procedure well, and I can honestly say he is the best doctor I have been to yet, making sure I understood the procedure. Even his student was well educated and knew exactly what should be done (not bad for a first year resident!). But as I drove home with my mother I kept thinking to myself about the whole thing.
My injury ached, it creaked and it throbbed. I am a 20-year-old female with high aspirations and now this. No one my age should be in this much pain, but then again, I know I have a high pain threshold (I broke my collarbone and didn't know it until this shoulder injury years later when the injury had healed itself). How much pain am I really in?
As I stared down the freeway it seemed endless, somewhat like my dreams of becoming a Paramedic. Would I ever find the end and reach my dreams, or will I have to jump off an exit too soon and give it up? Would I ever have the glory and the richness of that first real save?
Tonight I continue to try to keep the pain under control and keep my mind off of this now touchy subject, hoping that inspiration will find me and that I will know what to do. But until then, I sit back, enjoy my pepsi and try not to feel overwhelmed about it all.
Saturday, May 16, 2009
Too Damn Young
Usually my posts have a set theme, an attempt at an artistic and poetic view of medicine and a reference as to how this refers to my personal life. But today has been one of those days where even if the perfect scenario played out before me, I wouldn't be able to make it as perfect as I want. So I figured that the next best thing would be to post my sparatic, unpoetic post anyways. Because my blog is like my life, and like everything else, it is far from perfect.
Starting next week for the duration of a few days, I have been allowed to
go into our OR's and watch an operation. I am extremely excited that they are allowing me to do this, and have since been practicing the 'scrubbing in' technique one of my night nurses taught me about. (40 times over each side of the hand, 20 times on each side of each finger, etc.) I won't be doing anything but standing, but that is amazing in and of itself and to go home that night and know I smell like surgery will make an evening that much sweeter.
However, this brings me to something I had said earlier today. Am I too damn young for this? I mean, when we see a patient having any surgery at an age younger than 50 we all say 'they are WAY too young for that operation!' Which brings me to where I am now. I'm not the patient who is 20 and having a knee replacement. I am the CNA who helps them in and out of bed, who offers advice about their operation. I am by no means their superior, I am a part of their cohort, but does that mean that I too, am too young?
After all, while most my 20-year-old friends are busy worried about their weird tan lines and how to catch that cute guy in their physics class, I am worried about when I can get into the O.R. Something that even television broadcasts as something that older adults get to do (don't be fooled with looks, even Grey's Anatomy characters are 28 + years old!).
Maybe I am too damn young for this. Then again, maybe I am a step ahead of the game, and this step ahead will further me in my life, my career and my personal growth.
Working in medicine isn't easy. It's meant to be hard for a reason. It's meant to kick your ass. All of us will admit it, but I will be the first to tell you that I have seriously contemplated my place in medicine. I have tried to get away from it. I have worked the pizza shops and the office jobs and I found myself miserable more than I was ever happy. Nights when the patients wont lay off their call lights, nights when advanced procedures are needed, nights when you don't stop running for 12 hours straight, those are the nights you swear it off. But we are medical professionals and we vowed to 'first, do no harm.' The best part about it is that we never specified who we wouldn't harm, this is not just our patients, this is ourselves. We love medicine, we love our jobs, so instead of walking off the job, we dig our heels in, hold on tight and enjoy the ride. No matter what our age, medicine will always teach us life-long lessons, and kick our asses.
Starting next week for the duration of a few days, I have been allowed to
go into our OR's and watch an operation. I am extremely excited that they are allowing me to do this, and have since been practicing the 'scrubbing in' technique one of my night nurses taught me about. (40 times over each side of the hand, 20 times on each side of each finger, etc.) I won't be doing anything but standing, but that is amazing in and of itself and to go home that night and know I smell like surgery will make an evening that much sweeter.However, this brings me to something I had said earlier today. Am I too damn young for this? I mean, when we see a patient having any surgery at an age younger than 50 we all say 'they are WAY too young for that operation!' Which brings me to where I am now. I'm not the patient who is 20 and having a knee replacement. I am the CNA who helps them in and out of bed, who offers advice about their operation. I am by no means their superior, I am a part of their cohort, but does that mean that I too, am too young?
After all, while most my 20-year-old friends are busy worried about their weird tan lines and how to catch that cute guy in their physics class, I am worried about when I can get into the O.R. Something that even television broadcasts as something that older adults get to do (don't be fooled with looks, even Grey's Anatomy characters are 28 + years old!).
Maybe I am too damn young for this. Then again, maybe I am a step ahead of the game, and this step ahead will further me in my life, my career and my personal growth.
Working in medicine isn't easy. It's meant to be hard for a reason. It's meant to kick your ass. All of us will admit it, but I will be the first to tell you that I have seriously contemplated my place in medicine. I have tried to get away from it. I have worked the pizza shops and the office jobs and I found myself miserable more than I was ever happy. Nights when the patients wont lay off their call lights, nights when advanced procedures are needed, nights when you don't stop running for 12 hours straight, those are the nights you swear it off. But we are medical professionals and we vowed to 'first, do no harm.' The best part about it is that we never specified who we wouldn't harm, this is not just our patients, this is ourselves. We love medicine, we love our jobs, so instead of walking off the job, we dig our heels in, hold on tight and enjoy the ride. No matter what our age, medicine will always teach us life-long lessons, and kick our asses.
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