When the nurse is the patient …
Or could be – in my case. What to do? I’ve been in nursing for 23 years now. I’ve seen so much … TOO MUCH(!): Too much “fight when there is no chance”; too much hope – because “we have technology”; too much of “nature’s cruel twists”; (combined with) too much of “what were you thinking” stupidity. Through this, I truly believe in “Quality vs. Quantity”* … so much so, that I have half of my co-workers believing I’ve had a “NO CODE” tattoo on my chest for years now. I’d like to think that I’m more of a chunky James Dean/Marilyn Monroe … Live Free & Die Hard kind-of-soul (minus all the drugs and psych issues) … But, I also dislike pain – IMMENSELY. No really … I don’t like to hurt, long term. If ibuprofen can’t take care of it, then – Houston, we have a problem!
I have some new ‘parts’ trying to take up residence in here. I’ve been watching them. Currently, I seem to be watching them grow – taking up more space than is actually comfortable. Hmmm … What to do? Maybe they’re some peach fuzz ‘hairs gone wild’, or ducts/cysts on ‘ROIDs … they just need some time to ‘come to the surface and blow’. Yeah … OK … Gross! … But, I can get behind that thought.
Or maybe, I should get it checked out now – to avoid a “what were you thinking” kind-of-moment. But – THEY (the folks in the long white coats) are gonna want to smash, stab, excise ME … JUST to check it out. The safe answer is to cut shit off. Well now … that seems A BIT RASH, doesn’t it??? (But I know how THEY think! That’s what I’d do – if it wasn’t me …) Either way – all of it sounds like it involves PAIN.
Recently, DH caught wind of my … secrets. His take: ‘Do whatever keeps you going’ … What?!? Dude … I’ve seen human PETRI-DISHES kept alive by a ventilator. No … No, thank you!
Hmm – maybe sharing my space with some other stuff isn’t so bad after all. For now, anyway. Walking lop-sided gives me some pause. And I hate that thought, too! Don’t even get me started on female femininity, body image issues or any of that nuttiness! Fundamentally, it has nothing to do with quality … EXCEPT – maybe it does … in MY MIND. CRAP! Time to stick my head in the sand for bed … It’s a personal choice I need to wrap my head around, come to terms with … and decide. And – it’ll take weeks to get into my primary’s office, anyway …
The good news – my current ‘lil issue has me looking at patient comfort a bit more intently. (That’s always a good thing.)
A closing thought that pops into my head would be DH Lawrence’s Self Pity poem:
I never saw a wild thing
sorry for itself.
A small bird will drop frozen dead from a bough
without ever having felt sorry for itself.
My ‘interpretation’: Quit the drama … and live the way you choose … WITH IBUPROFEN!
*Quality vs. Quantity: a personal choice, and one that – as an ER nurse, I fully respect each person’s decisions. For me, I choose quality … um, MY WAY!