Giving

We've all heard the saying (it's Biblical!) that giving is better than receiving. And yet on Christmas morning as a kid, it was SO much better to receive! :-)

The other day I had an older gentleman for a patient. I had been warned by the day shift that he was quite the talker, which is pretty amazing considering he had just come out of surgery. Nonetheless, I realized what the day nurse meant as soon as I stepped in the room and introduced myself. He lamented that I hadn't been able to meet his dear wife as she had just left for the night. Then he got this undeniable twinkle in his eye as he said, "you know, I still bring her breakfast in bed every morning that I can!" He went on to say that he never used to buy the saying that giving was better than receiving, but ever since he started to really serve his wife, he had experienced a major change of heart. And this was no cold cereal and fruit. This was poached eggs, bacon, pancakes, smoothies...the whole nine yards. He said that ever since he'd gotten sick, there was now a fun war in their home as to whom could get breakfast for the other first! What a delightful man.

It made me realize that is what I want in life. Not just marriage, though I think service is key to a good and healthy marriage, but also life in general. Today's culture screams out at us that #1 is the most important person in the world: we don't love ourselves enough, we don't take care of ourselves, we're too self-sacrificing. The rate of prescribed anti-depressants has sky-rocketed. I don't just think that it's because it was previously underdiagnosed (though it HAS been underdiagnosed in some circumstances). I personally believe that some of it is because as the attention is turned inward rather than outward, people don't like what they see, but they don't know how to change it other than passing the buck to everyone else for all their problems. However, when we turn our attention outward, focusing on giving to others rather than constantly expecting to be on the receiving end, we find ourselves pleasantly surprised at how happy we become.

"In all things I have shown you that by working hard in this way we must help the weak and remember the words of the Lord Jesus, how he himself said, ‘It is more blessed to give than to receive.'" - Acts 20:35

Not just another holiday

Today is Memorial Day. CNN had a poll asking if "we" thought that Memorial Day had lost its meaning. Is it just another day to sleep in? Spend time with family? Throw a couple steaks on the grill? Or is really a day to remember the fallen heroes and those who serve our country to protect our rights and the rights of others...

Having grown up in a different culture, I remember always being awed when we would come back to the States. The clean roads, closed sewage systems, potable drinking water from the tap, no street kids... I never took that for granted. Now that I've lived here for 8 years, I find myself beginning to develop the calloused heart that I found so concerning in the average American on the street when I first came here.

So what is Memorial Day if it's not just another holiday? As a believer, I think it holds deeper meaning. Yes, it is a time to remember those who have given their lives and personal freedoms so that we can keep ours. I know several veterans who have lost their lives for my country. And I know so many more who carry both physical and emotional wounds from war. To them, I am grateful beyond words. I never want to make light of their sacrifice for us.

But the deeper meaning lies in the ultimate sacrifice of the ultimate war. Christ gave up His life so that we could have freedom beyond our understanding. The war is for our eternity, the sacrifice is the cross. But the beauty of Christ's ultimate sacrifice is that we can rejoice in it. For by His stripes we are healed...For many Americans, it can be hard to equate the sacrifice of our servicemen when we don't see the suffering other parts of the world experience without the freedoms we have. But we all experience life without the greatest freedom of all. Christ's sacrifice is absolutely personal, worth appreciating, and worth accepting. For this, I am truly grateful.

Quite possibly the best invention ever!

Ever since I started working nights, I've tried to be creative with finding ways, nonpharmacologic ways, to help me sleep during the day. I tried draping dark blankets around my bed, cheap eye masks, etc... but I'm still suffering from "work-lag." This is the time between 3am-7am that I can't sleep, no matter what time I went to bed or what I have going on that day. While this waking up in the middle of the night isn't ideal, it is giving me time to have my devos in solitude and quietness. I've been praying that I'd be more motivated and I guess this is God's answer!

BUT, I have found a most excellent eye-mask. It's made of that memory foam stuff and lets in zero light...I mean ZERO light. It's a bit spendy: $35, but so worth it if you really want to sleep. It has little pockets inside that hold it away from the eyes so there's no pressure on the eyes. So lovely.

So while I think I should get some compensation for this little plug, if you want a good eye-mask, go to Brookstone and get it. Seriously amazing.

Hmmm...what to say...

It's been a while since I've posted. Not because there hasn't been much going on, quite the opposite. I cannot wait for this semester to be over with so that I can really focus on work. The timing is actually quite impeccable. The week school is over is the same week I start as an RN "on my own." (Anyone else have Les Mis running through their head now?) For the last 9 weeks I've had another RN shadowing me, helping precept me to the life of a new nurse.

One quick story: I had a south Asian patient the other day who didn't speak more than 5 words of English: NO!, yes, sank you, there, and fix. We struggled all night as she wanted her curtain, pillows, blankets, and gown JUST so. After going in to her room about 3-5 times an hour all night, we ended the shift with her morning meds. When I walked in, she motioned brushing her teeth. I finally put my foot down and said that the nursing aid would help her brush her teeth AFTER she took her meds. Every two minutes after that she was calling for us so she could brush her teeth. By now I was thoroughly frustrated. My aid was busy so I gave her a toothbrush and paste only to hear a resounding, "NO!" She wanted to walk to the sink. Alright, I know what it's like to be in the hospital, so I'll go with it. I got her to the sink when she suddenly grasped my arm in a death grip. These little old ladies are STRONG! She started motioning something about her tongue. Clueless I grabbed every supply I could think of, hearing only, "no!" every time. Finally I grabbed the basin with all her toiletries from beside her bed. She pounced on this curved, ornate silver object and proceeded to scrape her tongue. Of course, why didn't I think of a tongue scraper. grrrr...

I was so ready to pass this lady on to the day shift and warned them that she was very needy and used to being the matriarch. As we were walking out of the room, she grabbed my hand and said very clearly, "I love you!" Sigh...you just can't hate them for long.

<---her tongue scraper was much fancier than this...

love or pride?

My pastor quoted Richard Cecil today in church:

"To love to preach is one thing; to love those to whom we preach is quite another."

I am a born preacher. NO, I don't preach at a pulpit or even in a classroom. However, I am a pretty opinionated woman and really don't have a problem speaking my mind. It can be something like a little-known fact, how I think one should clean, what to do after surgery, when to take Tylenol for a headache, etc... (Is it a surprise I'm a nurse?) But when I "preach," what are my motives? Is it to justify my own opinions? Such as, if I can convince them I'm right, then I really must be right. Do I "preach" to make myself sound smart?

Now that I am considering a life of missions and nursing, both of which are apt to preaching of some sort, it's something I need to really think about. When I walk down the dirt path to the squatter shack to teach infant care, it MUST be love that drives me, not some sense of self-inflation, pride, or self-justification.

Because let's be honest: you can usually tell within seconds if someone loves to preach in order to hear themselves talk...we call it "hot air."

Holding Hands

I had to call in sick last night. Something I was loathe to do so new on the job, but the thought of starting an IV or inserting a foley while the room was spinning was enough to keep me home. I felt horribly guilty for hours afterwards...was I REALLY too sick to go to work? Would people think of me as a wuss? (stupid new grad!) Could I have pushed through?

It's been a rough night. After sleeping most of yesterday to prep for last night, I couldn't sleep a wink! It was miserable. My mind was constantly on the unit and what I could have (should have?) been doing. In the end I decided that I was more worried about my pride and reputation than my patients. Yes, I really was ill. And yes, that really warranted a sick call.

On a happier note, I've learned that nursing is really a vain profession. I've been complimented more times in the last 6 weeks than the last 6 years combined! Of course, 90% of my patients have poor vision, but still...

A couple of nights ago I helped admit a sweet old lady from the ER. She had been completely alert and oriented before going to sleep but when her IV started beeping in the middle of the night she became so confused. By the time I walked in she was trying to get out of bed and it took some time before I convinced her I was a nurse. She kept asking me where I was sleeping and apologizing for waking me up. I finally squatted down next to her bed, held her hand, and just talked with her about my job and how I was there to take care of her. She was quiet for about 30 seconds. I asked her if she was ok and she said, "I'm fine, honey. I'm just trying to find the words to thank you." Have I mentioned that I love my job?

Patients Say the Darndest Things

One of my patients this week was in isolation for testing positive to MRSA (a bacteria that has become resistant to some antibiotics). It's not that big of a deal, but we still have to wear this very trendy yellow gown and gloves whenever we enter the room.

I had to go in at 6am to give the patient a shot in the belly to prevent blood clots. I turned the dim lights on to save his eyes as he was sound asleep. After waking him up and doing all the normal procedural stuff, I walked up to his bedside, helped him pull up his gown and administered the injection. It wasn't until I'd stepped away that I realized in the dim light that I had been standing in a huge puddle of fluid. A quick glace at his IV bag showed it was still full, so I asked him if he knew why there was water on the floor.

With a big grin he said, "That there is 100% pure pee!"

Ahhhhh yes! gotta love it. Apparently he had tipped over his urinal after filling it during the night and I had the pleasure of stepping in it. You can be sure I took my shoes off outside my door and sprayed them REALLY well with Tilex. Yuck! His urine probably wasn't infected, but just the fact that it had come from an isolated patient made it even worse.