my job, my pleasure

~this is an old one from my last blog...only one that i could resurrect...just wanted to post again to make sure i save it, hope you enjoy~


he was back again. 3rd hospitalization in 2 months. lung cancer was taking over his entire body. a voluntary action such as breathing is one i take for granted, it happens without much thought on my end. he was engrossed in his chest movement. every ounce of his worn out body was used to expand his diseased lung muscles. my job to make sure he isn't suffocating, i place oxygen at a higher rate.

the mask is the size of a child's baseball cap. it was smothering his nose and mouth, there to aid in his debilitation...yet it seemed like a foriegn enemy. his fatigued arms would lift the enormous accessory from his face just enough to get a sip of water. such an action would take me a nanosecond, his over 5 minutes. arms shaking, emaciated muscles attempting to hold a papercup that a toddler could easily handle. his 40 year old hands barely could get through the task. my job to help lift that cup to his mouth for him.

i feel lousy for him. just the other week we were talking about his boat, how he couldn't wait to get into remission to ride on it once more. i knew. i knew this would not happen for him. i hate that i knew this, watching a body lose its strength and near its end is something i could anticipate happening. it was to him. my job not to show him what i know, my job now is to make him comfortable, have him know i am there for him.

his mother is not where i am. she sees the same bodily movements, but in her mind he is still her young son. he is her baby. she sees what is able to make her breath and live her life....if that included some piece of denial, then that is her choice. i am there to help him feel pain-free and to get her coffee when she may need it.

doctors come by. new orders to start a morphine drip. it will help his air hunger, make him comfortable, peaceful in whatever way it can. this could be his last day, my job to make sure i start that drip as quickly as possible.

what will be will be, and the mother is now "getting that". she is unable to handle the moment. her son was gradually progressing and leaving his body. the breathing became shallow and slow. i noticed he no longer looked at me while i performed duties for him. i noticed he was "somewhere else" but not here. still in body, but not able to communicate. my job to make sure he stays this peaceful.

mother leaves the room and crumbles. crumbles in a way that i am not prepared for. crying, shouting, shaking and cursing. she ran from the room, whatever had been bottled up the last 2 months came spewing out in volcanic waves in one minute. her body was convulsing with category five emotions. i couldn't console her, the doctor couldn't console her, nurse manager couldn't console her. my job to brainstorm and find a way to help her.

patients, familys, coworkers all hover in the hallway...watching the scene from a bad movie. what to do? she needed more than emotional support. she needed help medically to deal with all she was feeling right now. in the moment i was thinking this....she yelled for help. "oh god i can't handle this, help me". i remember by chance her doctor's information was in her son's room. they had the same primary care physcian. my job to let him know i need his help.

me: hi, this is kt. i am a nurse and i am here with mrs. v - she is really needing some xanax, ativan..something. her son is here in my hospital, she is have great difficulty. (mrs. v is whaling in the backround) sweet doctor: is that mrs. v in the backround? oh my, no problem. give me your hospital's outpatient pharmacy and i will call down a dose of anxiety medicine now.

nurse manager goes to fetch the medicine. mother takes it, removes herself from her son's room for 45minutes. anxiety medicine kicks in. waterfall of tears still streaming down her face, but now she is able to see. she sees what i have been looking at. her son, his body, the last hours of a human life. the breathing as it slows. she is able to sit by him in the last moments. my job to shut the door, give them privacy.

she has tissues, water and additional family members for support. i sign out to the nightshift RN and she is able to take over gracefully. we finish report and give each other the look of a seasoned oncology nurse. it is her job now, but i know she feels as i do. "all in a day's work" just doesn't seem to cut it, more along the lines of: my job, my pleasure