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.