Do What You Love (cross posted) in Where It All Begins

I took care of a young woman this weekend who had been driving to work on Monday morning when her life was changed forever by a drunk driver. He flew straight through a stop sign and T-boned my patient at highway speeds, crushing her left side and pinning her in the car for over an hour. By the time I was assigned to care for her on Friday morning many of her wounds were under control and no longer massively bleeding like when she had first arrived. She had, however, just had her left arm surgically amputated and was dealing with a broken neck, broken legs, multiple shattered ribs and a litany of smaller but still painful injuries.

I got in report that she was anxious, calling frequently and continuously writing notes with her good hand because she couldn't talk due to the breathing tube down her throat. I was told her family was also anxious and the entire room had been 'driving everyone nuts' by frequently seeking out the nurse and making inappropriate and constant demands. I take reports like this with a grain of salt because I've been in the shoes of the anxious families and I know anxiety is rooted in fear. If you can validate fear, counter it with calm reliability and earn a patient and their family's trust that you will provide them with good care you will find that the majority of 'anxious' patients calm right down.

We finished up report and I entered her room. I introduced myself, looked her in the eyes and held her hand as I spoke. I told her I knew she was struggling with a lot of pain, that her breathing was uncomfortable and disjointed due to the ventilator and that she was scared of being in the hospital. She squeezed my hand back so tightly I thought I'd never get it back. From that moment on, she and I were hooked.

I cared for her 12 hours on Friday, 12 hours on Saturday and 12 more hours today. Throughout our time together she wrote notes explaining in detail what she needed, how she was feeling and what was one her mind. As we grew more comfortable with each other she even began to joke around, curse, tell me stories about her daughter and her life back home as well as some of the deeper things she hadn't been able to share with anyone else yet. She wrote about the 'phantom pains' that many amputees have and how it scared her that it felt like her left hand was opening and closing when she knew it wasn't. She wrote that while the rest of her was so warm and she wanted the blanket removed, she felt like her left arm was freezing cold and so maybe she better keep the blanket up. Then she'd catch herself, remember she had lost her arm and her eyes would tear up. And then I would talk to her about loss, about life changes like this, about trauma and the incredible and awful sequence of events as you come to accept that there is a new normal and a new life waiting for you after the hospital. She would listen intently and write back with questions about the healing process, getting a prosthetic, dealing with grief over the loss of a limb. One by one I would do my best to answer and bit by bit, her fear seemed to lessen.

Our goal for our three days together was to get her off the ventilator and get the breathing tube removed. I revved her up, cheerleading her through deep breaths and strong coughs and weaning down the support from the ventilator one step at a time. I taught her family about the different numbers on the monitor, the different peaks and valleys on the ventilator and about the best ways to support and encourage her with her breathing so we could hear her voice again. Unfortunately it turns out my three days weren't enough and she had to keep the tube in for at least a few more days. Despite her hard work and concentration she was simply injured too badly in the accident and her ribs and lungs were too broken and bruised to allow her the strength to breathe alone. I high fived her anyway, proud of the effort she did show and eager to encourage her to keep trying and revel in the small progress she was making even if the tube was still in.

Her family started calling me 'her angel' and one by one, as new family showed up, they would call me in the room and proudly tell me about 'their angel'. I waved off their kind remarks but was touched regardless by their sweetness. I promise you, I'm just doing my job. I'm just happy to be there and able to help. I don't do anything any of my coworkers wouldn't also do. Her family would come and go throughout the day, asking appropriate questions and supporting her by rubbing her feet, putting lotion on her arm and bringing balloons and cards from friends and family who couldn't be there. On Saturday she seemed particularly down and so together her family and I planned a spa day. I washed her hair, braided it, painted her toenails and spritzed her with her favorite perfume. Once she was all fluffed and buffed, she wrote "I feel human again. Thank you."

By Sunday night she was writing notes asking me what she was going to do on Monday morning when I didn't show up as her nurse. I reminded her I need days off too and that I need to see my family. She nodded but quickly wrote "But I need you too!" with a smile on her face. After I finished up report with the night nurse, I came back to her bedside and knelt down to look her in the eyes. I started to say good night and she cut me off, grabbing her pen and writing me out a note. "Thank you for your care tonight. You have changed my life. You are amazing. Please teach all other nurses how to do what you do because you are an angel. I love you." She then reached her arm out and pulled me in, a big tight squeeze amidst all the tubes and cords and wires. She rubbed my shoulder and when I pulled back, I saw tears running down her cheeks. I repeated my mantras for the weekend about her strength, resiliency, power and ability. I told her it was an honor to be her nurse and that I couldn't wait to come back on Wednesday and hear her voice and really 'meet' her without that stupid breathing tube in. She agreed and said she'd 'count down the minutes' until I got back. With a few hugs around the room to her sister, parents and boyfriend, I slipped out to head home.

I cannot express how much I love my job. I cannot possibly explain how much of a calling this job is and how honored I am to have found it and to have answered it. I spent most of my days amazed I get paid to do something I love so much. I run my butt off most days, I don't get lunches or pee breaks or chances to sit down but I get to change lives. There is no higher purpose for me in this life than to ease the pain and suffering of these patients. Nothing gives me more pleasure or more purpose. What an awesome weekend.

"Your work is going to fill a large part of your life, and the only way to be truly satisfied is to do what you believe is great work. And the only way to do great work is to love what you do.If you haven't found it yet, keep looking. Don't settle.” ― Steve Jobs