A Long, Non-Humorous Post

My heart is really full today. I am often highly emotional after work, mostly due to being tired after being on my feet all day, or maybe it is being subjected to person after person, having the worst day of their life, I don't know. I have my coping mechanisms, but today no amount of inappropriate humor, or rap music will take away this feeling.

On Sunday, Dave and I actually made it through both sessions of General Conference without falling asleep or deciding that we would DVR it and watch it later....wink, wink. I was really touched by President Monson's talk about having charity towards others. He talked about being asked what he would like for his birthday last year, and his reply was, that he just wanted people to be charitable towards each other. When his birthday rolled around, President Monson received numerous letters and stories, of acts of kindness, that people had given. He showed a picture of a tall glass jar, filled with fuzzy little balls, that each represented an act of kindness that was given by a primary kid somewhere. It started me thinking about all the opportunities that are presented to me on a daily basis, and how little I take advantage of them. Dave and I decided to get a big container and have our own family Jar of Warm and Fuzzies. We felt good about our plan, and the fact that we were implementing something from Conference, and sealed the deal with our secret handshake.

The next day I went to work. We don't physically have a big jar or any fuzzy balls to drop in it, yet, so my commute was the same as usual. I didn't let anyone merge, I used my middle finger signal and horn, more than my blinker, and I parked illegally. I mean why start any acts of kindness before I have a fuzzy ball to put in a jar?

I inherited a couple of patients from the night shift, and settled comfortably into my routine. As the morning wore on, I took a very elderly woman, who I am going to refer to as Lol(little old lady), who was having some chest pain and trouble breathing. Her symptoms had somewhat resolved by the time she made it to the ER, but due to her age and history, she warranted a complete work-up. Lol had a great personality, and I am a sucker for old people so we got along fine. As the day progressed I had reason to be in her room several times an hour. She needed various tests and updates and medicine, and each time we exchanged different personal tidbits. I am excellent at one-liners, and making conversation that doesn't actually reveal anything about me, but with her, I found myself answering her questions, and reporting on the Hoodlums, like she was an old friend.

As difficult as it was for her to get around, she insisted on getting up and going to the bathroom about every 30 minutes. As simple as this sounds, each time I would have to drop what I was doing for my other patients, and unhook her from all the monitors, oxygen, and IV lines, and then slowly help her into a wheelchair, take her to the bathroom, and then spend a few minutes in the bathroom with her. It was a process that took a good 15-20 minutes, and each time the call light came on, I groaned inside.

You can't help but study people, especially if you are parked in the bathroom with them a couple of times an hour. Lol's body was so old, but her eyes, although tired, were very kind. She had paper thin skin with a tangled maze of bright blue veins and purple-y yellow bruises trailing up her forearms. Her back and shoulders were hunched so far over, that it was a real strain to lift her head up straight, which meant she had to keep brushing her wiry silver hair away, with stiff gnarled fingers.

She thanked me over and over for helping her, and being patient, which made me feel ashamed at my inward groaning. At different intervals, she kept asking how much longer my shift was, and if I thought she would go upstairs before I left, because she didn't want another nurse. It took me by surprise, mostly because sometimes, people ask me that, but it is because they are hoping I am going home soon. I responded that I would likely be the nurse to escort her upstairs, and then she asked if I could work on the floor the next day and continue to take care of her. I explained my issue boiled down to short-term people skills, which limited me to the ED, and tucked her into bed.

An hour before my shift ended, I got a bed assignment for Lol, and went to tell her the good news. Her kids were leaving for the night and she was starting to get anxious. I did my best to alleviate her concerns about staying in the hospital and went to get the monitor hook-ups. When I came back she was alone, and her eyes were sad and misty. I tried to keep the conversation positive and upbeat, but when we got in the elevators, she reached out and held my hand, and I was quiet.

I met her Murse, upstairs and gave him the low down. I tried to relay all the concerns that Lol had, but he seemed distracted and anxious for shift change. When he left the room, I asked her if she wanted me to help her into the bathroom before she got in bed. As I helped her with this now familiar routine, her skinny little shoulders started to shake with sobs. I sat down on the side of the tub and listened to her cry and felt utterly helpless, and awkward. I held her hand and gently rubbed her spiny back, while she told me that she felt like she was going to die during the night. I spent another half hour with Lol and then tucked her in, and got out of Dodge.

On the way to my car, I talked it out with Daveskins, and then instead of instantly turning up my tunage, I just let the car be silent. I rode for a long time in the dark and quiet, thinking about Lol. I couldn't help but empathize with her fear, as I thought of my own experiences, when I have been frightened, or sad, or sick, and needed a emotional high five from someone. I bawled all the way home, pausing only to pick up some much needed Mexican food and buckle it safely in Emma's car seat. I arrived home feeling much better and enlightened to the point that, I don't need a big jar, to be filled with warm and fuzzies, I just need to pull my head out, and be aware of opportunities that are put in front of me.

I am still going to get a jar though, 'cause I really dig visual aids.