When oversensitive alarms go off or some minor equipment malfunctions - no I do not jump and go running for the nurse. No, certain things don't alarm me or scare me like they would someone not in the medical field or not familiar with this equipment. In that sense, I am less on my toes. On the other hand, when discussing complications and potential problems - I've seen the worst. I know how that road goes. I know what that means in the long run. I know worst case scenarios.
When we were told that it took 8 doses of epinephrine and multiple shocks to get a heart rate and blood pressure back on my child & almost 30 minutes of resuscitation - I knew what that meant. Yes, it's scary for any parent, but the longer it takes... the worse off you are. When the doctors start throwing lab values around and test results that they don't expect you to begin to understand, but you do, it's scary. You know what that high potassium means. You know what that high creatinine means... All you want to do as a parent AND as a nurse is advocate... advocate for your child - advocate for your patient. You know the motions, you know what to ask for... but you can't. Your brain isn't functioning. You are overwhelmed. All that medical knowledge is there, sitting in your vocabulary. You can still comprehend it. You just can't process and make decisions. It's hard to not try to play nurse in this situation, but it's hard to at the same time. It's hard to take a back seat. I've been lucky though. The team we have has worked very well with me and made sure I was comfortable with all of their plans. There has only been one time that they strongly felt like they wanted to do something that I was whole heartedly against and they respected me. I can't ask for much more than that.
We've done the typical 'ICU Roller coaster.' The one I have to explain to my patient's families all the time. 'It will get worse before it gets better, there will be good days and there will be bad days.' I was always confident in telling this to my families. It's so much different on the other side. First of all, I can't even look at these as good and bad days. I'm living moment to moment. Storm to storm. Hour to hour. Two weeks after this happened Todd was smiling and laughing. This past weekend he looked almost as bad as when he first came in. It's hard to see so much improvement and have it taken away from you. I have to remind myself of this roller coaster, but it's hard. This is my baby. This is my child. He isn't an adult like my patients. He's different. No, no he's not. He is going to go through the motions just like everyone else. It's a struggle.
The other part of this double edged sword. Since I work here, since it's familiar, since I know all the medical terminology, since I know the general idea of what the next course of action should be... everyone turns to me. I have to again play nurse and translate things down to a level non-medical people can understand. Terms my family can understand. My attention and focus is being pulled in a million directions and I was already in over drive.
This has been one heck of a roller coaster. I've learned a lot about myself, my limits, my needs, as well as a lot about pediatrics - oddly enough they are very different than adults. & I will most definitely be sticking to adults after this.
No comments:
Post a Comment