just pet
Vanilla with a twist
- Joined
- Mar 14, 2002
- Posts
- 49,093
The call came in at 9pm. A 34 year old patient with pain out of control. She is on a CADD pump, with Dilaudid, but her pain is escalating. As the on call RN, I had to go and titrate her meds up.
The hour drive made me cranky, muttering under my breath, "why didn't the nurse that was out earlier fix this..."
The road was dark, the 2 flights of stairs up to the house even darker. The entry was well lit, and the 10 pairs of shoes lined up neatly on the front porch began a story. I was suddenly glad I had just painted my toenails.
I was welcomed in and ushered quickly and quietly into a small room, dominated by a hospital bed, a small jaundiced-bronzed woman in obvious, severe distress and 6 Afghani women.
For the next 4-1/2 hours, I sat vigil with these women, as I increased the Dilaudid from 4mg/hour to 64mg/hr, giving Ativan to calm, began oxygen, held hands.
The patient is 34, her sister died from the very same cancer recently. Her mother and I spoke only the language of the love for our children. She is suffering, just as her dying daughter is. The older woman pulled a chair next to her for me to sit, holding my hand, kissing first one cheek, then the other. We watched and prayed together as her baby's breathing became less labored and her moans became softer and less frequent.
And the young women talked of politics and how they had no interest until just recently, as they are hated, despised for their religious beliefs. As we sat together, sharing a glass of hot tea and sweet dates, we talked of all those fighting, being killed, some Mother's child.
The suffering I saw tonight was not any less nor any more deserved for this young Moslem woman and her family. They welcomed me, never asked about my religion. The dying woman's mother said she loved me, loved me for easing the suffering of her child.
I am different tonight
And now have no tolerance for blind and ignorant hatred
What experiences have changed you in a heartbeat?
The hour drive made me cranky, muttering under my breath, "why didn't the nurse that was out earlier fix this..."
The road was dark, the 2 flights of stairs up to the house even darker. The entry was well lit, and the 10 pairs of shoes lined up neatly on the front porch began a story. I was suddenly glad I had just painted my toenails.
I was welcomed in and ushered quickly and quietly into a small room, dominated by a hospital bed, a small jaundiced-bronzed woman in obvious, severe distress and 6 Afghani women.
For the next 4-1/2 hours, I sat vigil with these women, as I increased the Dilaudid from 4mg/hour to 64mg/hr, giving Ativan to calm, began oxygen, held hands.
The patient is 34, her sister died from the very same cancer recently. Her mother and I spoke only the language of the love for our children. She is suffering, just as her dying daughter is. The older woman pulled a chair next to her for me to sit, holding my hand, kissing first one cheek, then the other. We watched and prayed together as her baby's breathing became less labored and her moans became softer and less frequent.
And the young women talked of politics and how they had no interest until just recently, as they are hated, despised for their religious beliefs. As we sat together, sharing a glass of hot tea and sweet dates, we talked of all those fighting, being killed, some Mother's child.
The suffering I saw tonight was not any less nor any more deserved for this young Moslem woman and her family. They welcomed me, never asked about my religion. The dying woman's mother said she loved me, loved me for easing the suffering of her child.
I am different tonight
And now have no tolerance for blind and ignorant hatred
What experiences have changed you in a heartbeat?
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