Sometimes I feel like doctors see the saddest, most tragic, heart breaking and sickening aspects of the human race. And the more I see, the more I realize that there's NO hope without God, no hope for redemption or justice.
Wednesday, 24 March 2010
I got to operate on a kiddie lung today!! and 3 baby inguinal hernias!! hecks yeah!
Sunday, 07 March 2010
Being on call every fourth night in the trauma bay for almost 4 months total now means that we see some pretty crazy things, and in large volumes too...so much so that it's become nearly routine to me. I've debated with myself whether it's a good thing that I'm immune. People might think it means that I've turned off my emotions or that I'm heartless. But I've found that it helps me do my job without distractions even if something horrific has happened, and also that I can provide the same care to everyone who rolls through the door- gangbanger, or a sweet old lady, or a loud drunk person, or a scared little kid.
But yesterday, I realized that everything, and I mean everything, changes when it's someone you know on that stretcher. I couldn't believe that this person, who had been there on my craziest of nights cracking jokes and cheering me up, had broken down to the point of such hopelessness that suicide was the only way out. Yesterday was one of those times when I broke down and cried (except this time in a trauma bay full of people). This persion ended up in the OR for a lengthy amount of time to repair multiple injuries. But thank God (and I really did thank God) that all of the injuries were very, very near misses. Post-op, this person was intubated in the ICU but still awake and communicative. Later in the evening I went to visit, and said as sternly as I could (all the while tears filling my eyes again) - don't you ever, ever do this again. There are too many people here who care about you. Now, rest and get better...and in the meantime I'll be praying for you
Lessons learned... Don't take anyone for granted, ever. There's no such thing as luck- the Lord really does have everyone and everything in His hands
This weekend has been wonderful so far (no, I won't think about work tomorrow, I won't!). It's amazing what a couple days off in a row can do for your spirits. David's mom was in town visiting so yesterday was a wonderful day. We drove up to the Berkshires and went to the Norman Rockwell museum (SO cool seeing all of those paintings in real life!), visited the waterfalls and enjoyed some of the fall colors, had a deeeeelicious dinner at a cozy French restaurant, and then plopped on my couch and watched "Yes Man."
And then today, David got baptized!!! It was great first of all getting to be back in my church, which is starting to feel a bit more like home...but the best thing was just listening to David share his faith story and watching him declare himself as a follower of Christ (not that he wasn't one before this, but somehow baptizing is different). I haven't watched a baptism in a long time because they didn't do it during church services back at Eastbrook. But today, as David and another woman shared their stories and got baptized, I was reminded all over again of the blissful wonderful-ness and pure joy of being with Jesus...it was a beautiful thing.
Afterwards, we went out to this old fancy hotel to celebrate and enjoyed their fantastic Sunday brunch buffet - prime rib, sausage, eggs benedict, smoked salmon, cioppino with delicious fresh mussels and calamari and fish, fresh fruit with sprigs of mint dipped in whipped cream were all among my favorites. Mmmmmmm
And now I'm dressed in my Chargers gear, ready to do some leisurely studying before watching the Chargers stomp on the Dolphins today. Go Bolts!! :)
Today for the 2nd time since starting in the ICU I had to step into the call room to pull myself together and cry for a little while (first time was last Saturday during my worst call night ever when I was totally overwhelmed by admissions coming in and patients crashing all at the same time).
Last night, the family decided on DNR/DNI (which means no CPR or intubating) and comfort measures for the patient that I have been taking care of since my first day in the ICU. So our team took off all oxygen support, stopped all of the blood draws for labs, and started the patient on a Morphine drip. It just didn't sit well with me...it felt so much like giving up, even though multiple systems were failing and the patient was spiraling downhill.
Who are we to decide though that something isn't going to work? How do we know that something is "futile"? And when do you stop? I just don't know.
So this morning, the patient passed away and I had to go in and pronounce a patient for the first time..."Pupils are fixed and dilated bilaterally, no heart sounds, no signs of respirations. Time of death, 9:14 am. May s/he rest in peace."
