I waited.
I thought I’d go to lunch after the procedure. That was the plan. I had taken care of all of my patient’s needs for the time being, and I wanted to grab some grub. I was starving!
Then CT called. That’s where they do radiographic scans. The doctor had ordered a STAT CT. Stat means right then. Pretty important. Life and death stuff. Something about a possible brain bleed. So yeah, no lunch for me.
You see, I had to go down to the test with my patient. Cause he was that sick. Someone had to control those life-sustaining meds. Someone had to watch the heart monitor. The someone was me. I had to coordinate with my Respiratory Therapist since the patient couldn’t breathe on his own yet. Yeah, we had to breathe for him, as we rolled down the hall, pushing rolling machines alongside him through narrow passageways and onto an elevator just big enough for an ICU bed.
Good thing I’m so skinny from starvation, I thought, as I stood pinned behind an IV pole up against the wall.
Funny story in the elevator, though. My Respiratory Therapist hadn’t eaten lunch either.
After the CT. After the transport. Then I’d take a break. That was the plan. But you know how plans are. They’re like pie crust promises. Easily made, easily broken.
My patient’s wife had arrived bedside in our absence. Poor dear. And I mean that from the bottom of my heart. She was so worried. He had been sick for so long, so unexpectedly, and we didn’t really have any answers. I thought of how I would feel if my husband was in that bed. My heart broke for her. I spent extra time explaining in detail everything I could. I offered her emotional support. I offered her hope based on my knowledge gained through the years. I hugged her and held her while she cried. I mean, who could go to lunch with that going on?!
I got to eat, though. Eventually. The hot line was closed, but I grabbed something. I had clocked out for lunch, and after giving directions to a lost family member in the hall, then letting a patient transport take the elevator before me, I had a good [10] minutes to eat. I loved every bit of those [10] minutes. I reveled in those [10] minutes. I mean, I got [10] minutes. Ten glorious minutes! I had started to think I would not.
You know what I didn’t do in my [10] minutes of break throughout my [13-hour] day? I didn’t play cards! Ain’t nobody got time for that.
Sometimes nurses just long for a drink of water. We can’t have it at the nurse’s station, though, and we don’t really have the time to drain the urine that coveted drink of aqua would create. So, we don’t think about poker or gin rummy. We think about if it’s worth sucking down that styrofoam cup of water when we know we’ll be running the hall later holding our bladder beyond what’s healthy. We just wanna pee. Are there decks of cards in the bathroom?
And it’s not just me, an ICU/CCU nurse. It’s all of us. Nurses. We’re all stretched beyond what we can handle sometimes physically, mentally, and emotionally. We’re all stressed out, with sore backs, and missed family get-togethers. If we happen to have a cold day in hell, pigs are flying, and we can break out into a card game in the break room, then we darn well deserve it. I mean, I’ve never seen it, but if you do… I mean, miracles happen. If you do catch a card game, maybe you could grab us some snacks to go along with it. After all, we love food! It’s like the Holy Grail of Nursing. Many seek it, but few find it.
Next time, consider my very normal and common day before making some ridiculous future comment.
That is all,
A Hangry ICU Nurse
. Funny story in the elevator, though. My Respiratory Therapist hadn’t eaten lunch either."){kind=link}