i wonder.
a lot.
about this whole life and death business.
you call because you care and you worry and you wonder.
but beware, it could go something like this:
me:
hey, did mr. d get discharged?
her:
(awkward oncologic silence)
me:
oh my god! what happened?!
her:
i’m so sorry. he died on sunday.
me:
oh my god……..anyone else?
her:
mr. c. last night. i’m so sorry. i was going to call you.
me:
oh my god…… geez……… shit.
note to self: do not call while on vacation to check on patients.
information you learn could negate the ‘vacation’ part of the vacation.
so let me get this straight. life goes on without me. and so does death. and i can’t always be there. not that i want to be or anything would have been different if i had. it’s just that i’ve sort of been assigned as their personal escort through this last phase of their life – and i should have been there. damnit.
‘what’s wrong mommy? did one of your patients die?’
‘actually two died.’
he hugged me and brought me his stuffed hippo and asked the obvious question,
‘so, do you wanna play yahtzee?’
mourning fog. you feel like banging one side of your head like after swimming – maybe the grief will leak out and you’ll be able to hear and think again.
but you blow through the grief express lane. then you roll a large straight – in one roll! you coast on your yahtzee high for awhile.
there was foreshadowing before i left and i made a special point to see mr. s. he was the one i was really worried about. the frail one. it feels like we’ve been waiting for the other shoe to drop with this guy for weeks – and that sucker just won’t drop. he keeps hanging on. more than that – he’s actually improving. that said, he’s old, sick, and tenuous. he hugged me and told me to relax. i told him how well he is doing, how well he has done, and how much i admire him. i said farewell without saying good-bye.
but i couldn’t see everyone. and i didn’t see the two that died. and now i can’t. that hurts and frustrates me in a way i can’t quite describe.
these patients…..god, they are fragile. literally clinging to life by a thread. a thread that we may be able to fortify or weave into something stronger – or a thread that could be unexpectedly snipped in an instant.
it was a glorious vacation. it was memorable in so many ways – for the blue skies and good air and fresh fish. memorable too for the loss and the book that found me afterwards. the books i need have been finding me for years. it works out great. Eat, Pray, Love fell in my lap – well, right after i bought it. it was a perfect companion to my 24 hours of soul searching that needed to take place. i didn’t connect with her story as much as her voice and the idea….eat, pray, love – what a mantra. what a mantra for grief management...or just for life. it’s one of the best i’ve found yet.
Monday, December 31, 2007
wonder
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4 comments:
I am sorry about the patients. Glad you had a somewhat happ vacation.
Godspeed to them...
You are such a profoundly gifted writer. I drink in every word you say.
I'll have you know that your obvious gift and calling for nursing amazes me. Your heart. Your words. The fact that your life is interwoven with the well-being of your patients. It is so inspiring.
You, OncRN are one of the main reasons I am pursuing oncology nursing. I recognize that spirit, that heart within you and identify with it so well.......because I am very much the same. That is how I know I could do oncology nursing. You mirror so much of what I feel for my patients.
Thank you for your willingness to show your heart and soul to your readers. You truly have no idea how much your words have impacted my life and my life's direction.
Better late than never, right? I just found this today. What a moving piece. I've made the same mistake... on a family trip to Disneyworld i learned of the death of one of my patients and the relapse of another. But separating completely is so damned hard!
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