Angels In Disguise - A Tribute To Nurses

Angels In Disguise - A Tribute To Nurses

So, the rollercoaster continues. Everything was fine since my last hospital visit in early April this year. Had many appointments since then that confirmed my heart and lungs were mostly clear, and then WHAM, I’m back with the same stuff (pain, shortness of breath, etc.) this weekend - pericardial and pleural effusion.

It’s the third morning, and I’ve been sitting here by the window looking outside since 2:30 am. Couldn’t get back to sleep after I woke up drenched in sweat freezing my butt off the way I usually do. Nurse Tammy, with a smile, helped me get changed and everything, while we joked about the trials of menopause. I want to insert here (the way I often do in my blogs) that this blog is not supposed to be a pity party - I share details because I feel we’ve entered a stage in society where we don’t talk about the real stuff anymore and that’s dangerous. If we don’t talk about what’s really going on, well, then nothing will get better either and there is LOTS of room for improvement in so many different ways.

Mayo, like most hospitals, is a busy place, even at night. I can see the ER main entrance from my window. Always an ambulance, always a person running out with a wheelchair ready to help. 5:30 am, the first Mayo buses pour in delivering nurses and administrative staff who live in the area. Tammy notices my light and we take my vitals. No draining of my heart this morning because I received a massive dose of steroids there last evening which has to sit there for 24 hours. So, I’m actually feeling decent this morning - no pain, no nausea - YAY! I can eat my breakfast. It’s bland but I don’t care, wolfing it down. I’ve lost 30 pounds this year and if you know me in person, you can perhaps imagine that this is a really bad thing. I was a stick and have now moved into skeleton territory. It’s a condition that many cancer patients develop as they progress. It’s called cachexia - muscle wasting in cancer cachexia is primarily due to increased catabolic activity that leads to progressive loss of skeletal muscle mass and strength. Chemo is causing me to have no appetite, plus it affects my taste buds. A lot of things I typically love don’t taste right anymore. So, in moments where I feel actual hunger and no nausea, I rush to get something high-calorie into my system. A bagel with cream cheese and jam, some potatoes and eggs, no-sugar hot cocoa… bland as heck but I’m in heaven, listening to Django Reinhardt. Tammy walks in and checks how I’m doing, noticing the music and we talk about New Orleans and how it ought to be on both of our bucket lists. Two more nurses walk in - Tara and Muna… they are Tammy’s shift replacements and I probably won’t see Tammy again because the nurses here are on a 3 days on, 3 days off type of cycle. We say our thanks and good byes, some last jokes and chuckles about my night sweats and then, the angel she is, she makes sure to hand over the “Nurse John Torch.” So, let me tell you about John:

To start out, he’s probably the coolest nurse I’ve ever met. I would say in his 50s and by the looks of him, not someone I would have guessed to be a nurse (but what is the “stereotypical” nurse? I have no clue, nor do I feel like pinning that down). A short, thick and rugged appearance and, apart from kindness, there's mischief and an endless supply of stories in his eyes - none of it disappoints and he’s been doing this for over 20 years (he actually went to nursing school with Tammy). He was there when I was admitted Friday night. I could tell that initially he was gauging what kind of patient I was but it didn’t take him too long to realize that I’m a goofball. We were quick to get along swimmingly and exchange silly stories and remarks. At some point, it was time to change all my dressings. On the left, is my pericardial effusion catheter - a thin tube that goes into the heart sack and is connected to a valve that gets twisted to drain fluids from every few hours. I call it my beer tap - if it’s Budweiser we’re ok, things turn to Guiness, there’s a problem (apologies to all the beer drinkers here!). I was leaking so John and another nurse (I’m sorry I can’t remember her name, she was foreign and super sweet) had to change the dressing which is rather involved because of the multiple layers that go around this particular catheter to prevent infection to get to the heart. On the other side, it was time to change the dressing for my tumor that has come to the surface. I really should give this thing a name by now - it’s ugly and massive, and bleeds profusely every time I take the gauzes off (regardless of special petroleum gauze and gel). We started with the catheter and there were few problems, and then came the ugly mass - let’s call it Rumpelstiltskin, yeah, that feels about right. I told them that it would probably bleed pretty bad, so we got everything ready and prepared to catch the blood and cover this sucker up as fast as possible. Rumpy didn’t disappoint - the moment we peeled the gauze off the blood started oozing and fill gauze pad after gauze pad. So, I’m sitting here, chest fully exposed, two nurses on each side, dabbing at my boobs (or what little is left of them). John is instructing the other nurse, teaching her, and at the same time telling stories. And I’m giggling, trying to force my mind not to go back to the actual look of the situation. At some point, I’m guessing when their arms got pretty tired about 5 minutes in, an awkward silence settles in and I eventually say: “So, who’s got a good joke?” That was the beginning of the mayhem that dictated the rest of my stay here. John of course started dropping dad joke after dad joke and I can’t even recall which ones because I was laughing so hard. We each had flushed faces. I somehow feel to an outsider that would have made the scene look even worse but it was hilarious to us. 

The bleeding finally stops and we can finish covering it all up. The two leave. Ten minutes later another two nurses, Audra and (I think) Isabella, enter. They introduce themselves and tell me they were instructed to deliver jokes. Isabella delivers an egg roll joke and Audra, well, Audra cracks herself up so hard trying, I have no clue what she actually said but her giggles were so contagious that I started cracking up and Isabella bends down bursting out:”Oh, I’m gonna pee.” And this went on all day!! Nurse after nurse, some not even from the same floor! Jokes all the way from “Adell calling from the other side” to “toothles (gummi) bears” - dad jokes galore. Even one Provider joined the fun, the cardiologist dealing with my catheter. What a sport, and he cracked himself up which made it even funnier. We’ve been keeping track of the punchlines on a dry erase board.

But it’s not all just sillies and jokes - the nurses aren’t blind or numb to their patients and looking at someone with a massive tumor, shaved head, skeleton figure, here to get her heart and lungs drained invokes stories of hardships, struggles, woes and worries on both sides. John told me about life as a nurse the ups and downs, his family and more. Nurses are humans like everyone else with their own stories and struggles and here they are, coming in every day to carry another person’s load and try to help them feel better. John went above and beyond to carry a piece of my struggle and I can’t thank him enough for that. 

Many providers ignore the nurses (not all, but many!). There’s a distinct hierarchy and it bothers me to the core. The nurse is in the middle of a task and the provider marches in. Without any exchange of looks or words, the nurse, head dropped, slinks out to give the provider the floor until they leave and then comes back to finish their task. I mean, medieval times style - the king enters and you get out of the way, bowing as you leave. They don’t bother learning the names of the nurses or being kind. It’s so obvious. I asked if there was a place to leave feedback or nominate for awards and there is but over the years this has been heavily reduced to the basics. I don’t understand this… at all. What would the Hospitals and providers do without the nurses?!?

The next day, John introduced another beginner nurse to me, Shay. He said the night before: “She’s a good egg.” And she is. Shay could literally be my daughter. Wonderful spirit, used to work with kids with learning differences, and wants to get back to that after a few years of nursing. She’s the perfect personality for it. Shay popped in multiple times to check up on me and then decided to take me on a stroll on our floor. As we walked past nurses, they’d stop and wish me a “May the 4th be with you” or told another dad joke. Shay has not yet seen any of the Star Wars movies, so we chatted about my generation and what it was like when I was a kid watching the first 3 episodes, versus what it was like to go to the theaters for episode 1 many years later and the audience bursting into roars of cheers and applause when the famous intro rolled in. She listened wide eyed and then we somehow ended up talking about our shared foodie passion - nachos. Shay is going to be a star and I hope the medical industry politics don’t destroy the special spark she carries inside, just like John. I’m so grateful she has him as her mentor.

Sunday afternoon, my catheter had to be repositioned to try and get the remaining fluid out. Not my most favorite procedure, especially since I don’t react “properly” to pain meds. The fentanyl did hardly anything, so I felt the pulling and especially the tiny stitch they had to place. Let me tell you, the next time you see some tough guy in a movie getting stitches without any kind of numbing and he makes it through with a few grunts… yeah, that’s total and utter BS!! After a day of tests and pokes and then THAT, my mind was toast. Ron came by to keep me company and bring some treats and then John joined us and we chatted and shared chips and talked Bourbon. It was almost like we’ve all known each other for much longer than this. It was the end of John’s shift and he eventually got up, smiled, and said it was a pleasure to meet us. In my frazzled mind I think I interpreted that to be geared mostly toward my husband, so I watched John walk out the door and I could swear his wings barely fit through the door. He had no expectations or anything, just left. Minutes later it dawned on me that the nurses worked on a 3 days on, 3 days off schedule and that I would not see him again today… which is why I’m writing this today. I never got the chance to properly thank him and give him the massive squeeze he deserves. I do have his email and he challenged me to create one of my weird mixed critters for him, which I GLADLY will. 

Thank you John, from the bottom of my heart - you are a massive beacon of light… not just for the patients but the other nurses as well. And thanks to ALL the nurses and for playing along - you all lifted my spirits enormously :-)