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.
Sunday, December 13, 2009
Friday, December 11, 2009
Once upon a vollie.
I became a volunteer EMT at the ripe old age of 16. I worked directly under a doctor and knew abosolutely nothing at the time about emergency medicine, hospitals, ambulances, or how to treat patients. I did it to be at the bike track.
Dr. C was excellent. She taught me everything I ever needed to know about crashes. I bandaged lots of road rash, and as they fell she taught me about c-spine injuries, what to check for and how to treat it. Before I knew it, I was calling the shots.
She was tough for us being only volunteers. If you didn't honor god and country you wouldn't be allowed to treat patients, let alone carry the jump kit. We were to stand for the national anthem, we were to follow all laws, irregardless of how stupid they were. We had to follow the rules of the sport, and only offer to help the racer after asking if they can touch them- including freeing them from their bike when trapped. She sat over my shoulder, watching intently as I cleaned up each case of road rash, and made sure I explained all the problems they could have with the injury.
It's been nearly 4 years. I have since quit volunteering but now, I can handle anything. Yesterday I got a phone call from my manager, offering me a better shift, with more ideal hours and better cases. She made a comment that made me smile, but think back to Dr. C.
"Dani, you are excellent with the staff and the patients. The patients families love you, and have told me that you explain things to them much better than anyone else on staff. We want you on days where you can help more people."
If it weren't for the three years I spent with Dr. C, I never would have gained the knowledge, the people skills and the ability to understand medicine. If it weren't for being a vollie, I never would be the employee everyone wants on their shift.
Dr. C was excellent. She taught me everything I ever needed to know about crashes. I bandaged lots of road rash, and as they fell she taught me about c-spine injuries, what to check for and how to treat it. Before I knew it, I was calling the shots.
She was tough for us being only volunteers. If you didn't honor god and country you wouldn't be allowed to treat patients, let alone carry the jump kit. We were to stand for the national anthem, we were to follow all laws, irregardless of how stupid they were. We had to follow the rules of the sport, and only offer to help the racer after asking if they can touch them- including freeing them from their bike when trapped. She sat over my shoulder, watching intently as I cleaned up each case of road rash, and made sure I explained all the problems they could have with the injury.
It's been nearly 4 years. I have since quit volunteering but now, I can handle anything. Yesterday I got a phone call from my manager, offering me a better shift, with more ideal hours and better cases. She made a comment that made me smile, but think back to Dr. C.
"Dani, you are excellent with the staff and the patients. The patients families love you, and have told me that you explain things to them much better than anyone else on staff. We want you on days where you can help more people."
If it weren't for the three years I spent with Dr. C, I never would have gained the knowledge, the people skills and the ability to understand medicine. If it weren't for being a vollie, I never would be the employee everyone wants on their shift.
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!
Sunday, December 6, 2009
In my professional medical opinion...
Its a horrible thing, having any medical knowledge. On one hand, some people listen to you and trust you. They seek your advice and are eager to learn about what you have to share.
On the other hand, some people seek your advice and argue it, 'oh your only an EMT, you don't know much.'
Let me tell you two tales.
Once upon a time was a young diabetic boy with a hurt foot. It was discolored, swollen and painful. It wouldn't get better. So his mother looked for a doctor. One of the doctors said that he needed surgery and scheduled it. The whole thing seemed off. The X-rays showed no break, let alone reason for surgery, plus being diabetic made it risky. I begged, pleaded and harassed his mother to take him to a specialist. Finally, a few days before the surgery they did.
The so called 'break' on the X-rays, was actually calicfication and his foot was healing. The surgery would have injured him further and nearly crippled him. The child is only 16.
The next tale is of a woman who had numb hands and incredible pain for months. After much begging and pleading to see a doctor she finally got sick of the harassment and pain. Finally she got a diagnosis- pinched nerves in her cervical spine. If she didnt get the tests she would have been in this incredible pain for years.
Neither time did they listen when I begged them to go see a doctor. Both times they thanked me and felt better later on. I hate having a professional medical profession.
On the other hand, some people seek your advice and argue it, 'oh your only an EMT, you don't know much.'
Let me tell you two tales.
Once upon a time was a young diabetic boy with a hurt foot. It was discolored, swollen and painful. It wouldn't get better. So his mother looked for a doctor. One of the doctors said that he needed surgery and scheduled it. The whole thing seemed off. The X-rays showed no break, let alone reason for surgery, plus being diabetic made it risky. I begged, pleaded and harassed his mother to take him to a specialist. Finally, a few days before the surgery they did.
The so called 'break' on the X-rays, was actually calicfication and his foot was healing. The surgery would have injured him further and nearly crippled him. The child is only 16.
The next tale is of a woman who had numb hands and incredible pain for months. After much begging and pleading to see a doctor she finally got sick of the harassment and pain. Finally she got a diagnosis- pinched nerves in her cervical spine. If she didnt get the tests she would have been in this incredible pain for years.
Neither time did they listen when I begged them to go see a doctor. Both times they thanked me and felt better later on. I hate having a professional medical profession.
Thursday, December 3, 2009
A Letter to my favorite Paramedic
Dear Scott,
You're an asshole 90% of the time, and that works for you. Honestly, I envy you for it. I wish I could be a cool, rough, tough, military asshole that saves lives. Frankly I never thought we would be friends, let alone become some of the best friends.
Where your family won't tell you they are proud of you, I will. I think that you are an amazing young man, and I only wish the best for you in the rest of your life to come. Your smart, and dedicated and are crazy ambitious, which helps with the whole applying to med school thing. I know you'll get into a great school, make the military pay every penny they worked you for and become an amazing doctor.
Last December was amazingly funny. It was you, me and Bubba, just driving around the state like a couple of idiots. We ran out of tourist things to do about thirty minutes after you arrived and ended up visiting every wal-mart in 50 miles and looking for Jesus look-alikes. You were mean at first, and I hated you for your pessimism, but by the time you left to return to the sandbox we were better friends than you and Bubba.
The best part was when you gave me your army flight medic t-shirt. It's way too big for me, but I wear it all the time, and I love it. The jump kit that it came in was crazy cool too and I brag all the time about owning a bag of quik-clot, even if I know I will never get to use it.
I hope your well Scotty-boy. I hope that your not going crazy over there. I hope you know how much we miss you.
We are so gonna cause hell and havoc when you come home.
Miss you man.
You're an asshole 90% of the time, and that works for you. Honestly, I envy you for it. I wish I could be a cool, rough, tough, military asshole that saves lives. Frankly I never thought we would be friends, let alone become some of the best friends.
Where your family won't tell you they are proud of you, I will. I think that you are an amazing young man, and I only wish the best for you in the rest of your life to come. Your smart, and dedicated and are crazy ambitious, which helps with the whole applying to med school thing. I know you'll get into a great school, make the military pay every penny they worked you for and become an amazing doctor.
Last December was amazingly funny. It was you, me and Bubba, just driving around the state like a couple of idiots. We ran out of tourist things to do about thirty minutes after you arrived and ended up visiting every wal-mart in 50 miles and looking for Jesus look-alikes. You were mean at first, and I hated you for your pessimism, but by the time you left to return to the sandbox we were better friends than you and Bubba.
The best part was when you gave me your army flight medic t-shirt. It's way too big for me, but I wear it all the time, and I love it. The jump kit that it came in was crazy cool too and I brag all the time about owning a bag of quik-clot, even if I know I will never get to use it.
I hope your well Scotty-boy. I hope that your not going crazy over there. I hope you know how much we miss you.
We are so gonna cause hell and havoc when you come home.
Miss you man.
Wednesday, December 2, 2009
Well, so Much for THAT.
PT today was excellent. When I say excellent, I mean funny.
First off, this whole time the staff has been feeding my newest addiction. I am a whore to all the crazy looks that I get from the staff and love to tell my story just so I can get another one of those 'holy shi-' looks. I know, it's bad, but I love it. Once I got back to the PT room and to my table the sports therapist asked about my injury, how it happened, when, what I did to fix it, etc. When he looked at the chart he looked amazed. "YOU DID WHAT?"
I giggled, I'm used to this. "A 360 DEGREE LABRIAL REPAIR!? THATS-" He paused, trying not to be a jerk. Most patient's don't like hearing their injury was cool.
"It's gnarly, right?" I said, smiling.
He then walked off, leaving us to watch as he explained to the PT what the injury was, and too there was another one of those reactions I am addicted to. I beamed as he introduced himself and laid me flat on the table. We began to lift my arm into the air. "Tell me when it hurts." He said. We got to 30 degrees, nothing. 50 degrees, nothing. He paused and rocked my arm a little bit, then moved onto 70 degrees. "Doesn't it hurt?" He asked. I shook my head.
"There!" I said after a moment, "But its tightness hurting, not pain." He smirked.
"Your at 95 degrees, 5 degrees past what the doctor ordered." He said. "We need to rewrite some orders, your doing...well amazing. I don't need to see you twice a week after all." He said. "How bout every two weeks."
Well, now I have stuff to do...kind of.
First off, this whole time the staff has been feeding my newest addiction. I am a whore to all the crazy looks that I get from the staff and love to tell my story just so I can get another one of those 'holy shi-' looks. I know, it's bad, but I love it. Once I got back to the PT room and to my table the sports therapist asked about my injury, how it happened, when, what I did to fix it, etc. When he looked at the chart he looked amazed. "YOU DID WHAT?"
I giggled, I'm used to this. "A 360 DEGREE LABRIAL REPAIR!? THATS-" He paused, trying not to be a jerk. Most patient's don't like hearing their injury was cool.
"It's gnarly, right?" I said, smiling.
He then walked off, leaving us to watch as he explained to the PT what the injury was, and too there was another one of those reactions I am addicted to. I beamed as he introduced himself and laid me flat on the table. We began to lift my arm into the air. "Tell me when it hurts." He said. We got to 30 degrees, nothing. 50 degrees, nothing. He paused and rocked my arm a little bit, then moved onto 70 degrees. "Doesn't it hurt?" He asked. I shook my head.
"There!" I said after a moment, "But its tightness hurting, not pain." He smirked.
"Your at 95 degrees, 5 degrees past what the doctor ordered." He said. "We need to rewrite some orders, your doing...well amazing. I don't need to see you twice a week after all." He said. "How bout every two weeks."
Well, now I have stuff to do...kind of.
Tuesday Update
Goodness! I was so excited I couldn't sleep!The stitches came out! It was a glorious moment, pain free and awesome as they pulled them. Then to top it off the surgeon ordered me to start PT, which I will begin this morning. This caused me to smile and happy dance there in the office.
Now I know getting out of the sling isn't breaking the rules anymore! Haha!
Off to get ready for PT- it may be hell, but it will so be worth it.
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