The world does not revolve around you and the way you think things should be. You aren't the genius you think you are: you are nothing more than a bully and a coward with a narrow view of the world. You look for women who have a history of being abused and you latch onto them and their vulnerabilities like a vulture. In most cases, you chose to be like your father because in your eyes, he was powerful, and he couldn't be hurt. You learned to secretly hate your mother for her being so weak. You can be an ex con, a chiropractor, a lawyer, a teacher. No matter what your day job, you are a fucking monster behind closed doors. For those of you that don't raise a hand to her so you don't think that's abusive: you're an asshole, too. You don't fuck with someone's self esteem and berate them and criticize everything they do and get away with thinking it's okay because you didn't physically damage her. You hate yourself and you take it out on those closest to you. Understandable how you hate yourself, you are a disgusting piece of shit.
You teach your daughters to take abuse. You teach your sons that's how to treat a woman. The repercussions of your fucked up logic and egocentrism laced with self loathing and paranoid accusations over the most ridiculous minutiae make you look like an even bigger fool than you already are.
Just know this, big man:
Every time you hit her, not only her fear but her hatred grows. She becomes used to your torment, desensitized to your abuse. Your constant picking and insulting and demeaning and control and domination is building a fortress within her. Because you see, there's a part of her you can't touch, and that's her spirit. She may feel trapped by you (by no mistake on your part), but eventually, there's always that possibility that going to prison won't seem like so bad of an option. Maybe it will feel even more like a vacation. And it WOULD be a vacation, because prisoners have more rights than she does living with a miserable son of a bitch like yourself.
I remember a patient I had in clinicals for nursing school. Sweet woman in her 60s in for gall bladder removal surgery. Sat with her and talked with her for a while and she shared with me that her husband passed away due to diabetes complications just last year. I said, "Oh I'm so sorry" She said "Don't be. He used to beat me, I hope he rots in hell." Then she smiled so brightly. :)
Is that the type of way you want to be remembered? Is that the payoff you seek? If so, keep on with your bad self.
If you are reading this and you see the tiniest bit of yourself in this, do everyone on this earth a favor and get counseling, get castrated and for the love of all that is holy, stay the hell out of relationships of any kind until whatever the hell screw you have loose is fixed. I'm tired of caring for bones you've broken and drying the tears of your victims.
(In case any of you ever wondered why I'm not a psych nurse? This is exactly why.)
Monday, June 18, 2012
Friday, June 1, 2012
How I became a nurse after exactly 1 day of clinicals.
I was in my first semester of nursing school. We were on the oncology floor and we were allowed to "pick" the patients we wanted to research, assess and care for. I worked on the floor below that one (the cardiac floor) as an aide, so I had some semblance of familiarity with the hospital. Thanks to that, I was not particularly timid about answering call bells or checking sugars or whatever the RNs needed. The RNs were in report and I asked them if there was a patient they felt needed a little extra TLC for the day. (I chose that approach over "ooh do you have anybody GOOD" with 'good' meaning multiple system failure and tons of meds and labs to learn from) I suppose even from the beginning I've been much more patient focused rather than disease focused. The nurses looked knowingly at one another and said, "Well.. there is one.. but.. this is your very first semester and your first clinical?" I steadily looked at them and said, "Whatever it is, I can handle it.."
And with that, I had my very first nursing student assignment. A tiny little woman with inflammatory breast cancer. Her left breast was the size of a football. She was admitted a few hours prior. She was incredibly sweet, a little confused, and extremely anxious. Her younger brother was in the room with her. He's lived with her and cared for her for years. He was a little backward, but very nice. He told me she doesn't like Drs or hospitals, and that last month she told him she thought she felt a lump in her breast when she was in the tub. Since he's her brother, he felt awkward asking to see it, but he told her maybe a Dr should look at it. She said "no no no! If a Dr. sees it he will tell me I'm dying!". The brother didn't push, and she bathed only twice weekly and kept quiet about her breast after that for a few weeks. Then the day before her admission to the hospital he asked her about the lump and she started to cry and showed it to him. He called for an ambulance.
Drs came in and spoke with her, wrote for dry dressings to go over the wounds on her breast. She needed dry sterile dressings loosely applied with no tape. Why? Her breast was spotted with black necrotic tissue due to her paper thin skin being unable to stretch with the rapidly growing tumor and the skin split opened and subsequently became seriously infected. (according to the Dr's estimation, the tumor grew from a golf ball to a football size in 4 weeks).
The RN for this little lady gladly gave the reigns to me in caring for this woman after seeing me interact with her..the patient responded very well to me and trusted me completely- much moreso than any of the other professionals who came into the room.
I provided am care (washed her, applied lotions, etc). And then attempted to dress her wounds on her diseased breast. She looked down and really looked at her chest.. and started to hyperventilate. I told her to look at me... I put my hand on her arm. "We are going to cover that up and give you medicine to feel better, okay? Deep breath..relax. I'm with you." There was no way that gauze was staying on her without tape, but I didn't want to tear her skin. So I had an idea... I called the maternity floor and had them tube me those mesh panties they give to new moms.. I slid her swollen breast through one of the leg holes of the mesh panties and slid the dressing underneath. Then I buttoned up her gown.
My instructor came into the room with the RN to admire my handiwork. Not long after, the hospice case worker and the Dr. arrived to break the news to her and her brother. She had about a week left, if that.
The news should not have hit me like it did, it shouldn't have surprised me. Luckily, I was out in the hallway when I heard it (and not in the patient's room). I briskly walked around the corner to the nurse's station. Everything became blurry, my throat tightened. Deep breaths.. deep breaths.. A question entered my left ear "Are you okay?" it was one of my classmates. I answered shakily, "She's on hospice.. she's going to die.." And she hugged me. The RN and my instructor walked over. "Do you need to talk?" I answered, "Not now.. I need to be there for her. I can process all this later." I went into her room and sat with her and her brother.
I held both their hands and talked to them about the inpatient hospice facility she would be going to. How beautiful it is, how great the staff are, etc. I printed out a bus schedule for her brother and told him he can sleep at the facility to be with her if he wants. He liked that.
About 2 hours later, the transport team arrived to transfer her to inpatient hospice. I hugged her and said my goodbyes. I hugged her brother and told him, "Just be with her. You don't have to tell her any magic words, there aren't any. You are giving her the greatest gift a person can give by keeping her from being alone."
I cried heavily the moment the elevator doors closed, her little hand lifting from the stretcher in a final wave of goodbye.
I turned to one of the nurses who debated on whether or not to give her to me and I said, "Maybe I couldn't handle it after all..." She put her hand on my back and she said, "You handled it like you've been a nurse your whole life. Welcome to the profession."
And with that, I had my very first nursing student assignment. A tiny little woman with inflammatory breast cancer. Her left breast was the size of a football. She was admitted a few hours prior. She was incredibly sweet, a little confused, and extremely anxious. Her younger brother was in the room with her. He's lived with her and cared for her for years. He was a little backward, but very nice. He told me she doesn't like Drs or hospitals, and that last month she told him she thought she felt a lump in her breast when she was in the tub. Since he's her brother, he felt awkward asking to see it, but he told her maybe a Dr should look at it. She said "no no no! If a Dr. sees it he will tell me I'm dying!". The brother didn't push, and she bathed only twice weekly and kept quiet about her breast after that for a few weeks. Then the day before her admission to the hospital he asked her about the lump and she started to cry and showed it to him. He called for an ambulance.
Drs came in and spoke with her, wrote for dry dressings to go over the wounds on her breast. She needed dry sterile dressings loosely applied with no tape. Why? Her breast was spotted with black necrotic tissue due to her paper thin skin being unable to stretch with the rapidly growing tumor and the skin split opened and subsequently became seriously infected. (according to the Dr's estimation, the tumor grew from a golf ball to a football size in 4 weeks).
The RN for this little lady gladly gave the reigns to me in caring for this woman after seeing me interact with her..the patient responded very well to me and trusted me completely- much moreso than any of the other professionals who came into the room.
I provided am care (washed her, applied lotions, etc). And then attempted to dress her wounds on her diseased breast. She looked down and really looked at her chest.. and started to hyperventilate. I told her to look at me... I put my hand on her arm. "We are going to cover that up and give you medicine to feel better, okay? Deep breath..relax. I'm with you." There was no way that gauze was staying on her without tape, but I didn't want to tear her skin. So I had an idea... I called the maternity floor and had them tube me those mesh panties they give to new moms.. I slid her swollen breast through one of the leg holes of the mesh panties and slid the dressing underneath. Then I buttoned up her gown.
My instructor came into the room with the RN to admire my handiwork. Not long after, the hospice case worker and the Dr. arrived to break the news to her and her brother. She had about a week left, if that.
The news should not have hit me like it did, it shouldn't have surprised me. Luckily, I was out in the hallway when I heard it (and not in the patient's room). I briskly walked around the corner to the nurse's station. Everything became blurry, my throat tightened. Deep breaths.. deep breaths.. A question entered my left ear "Are you okay?" it was one of my classmates. I answered shakily, "She's on hospice.. she's going to die.." And she hugged me. The RN and my instructor walked over. "Do you need to talk?" I answered, "Not now.. I need to be there for her. I can process all this later." I went into her room and sat with her and her brother.
I held both their hands and talked to them about the inpatient hospice facility she would be going to. How beautiful it is, how great the staff are, etc. I printed out a bus schedule for her brother and told him he can sleep at the facility to be with her if he wants. He liked that.
About 2 hours later, the transport team arrived to transfer her to inpatient hospice. I hugged her and said my goodbyes. I hugged her brother and told him, "Just be with her. You don't have to tell her any magic words, there aren't any. You are giving her the greatest gift a person can give by keeping her from being alone."
I cried heavily the moment the elevator doors closed, her little hand lifting from the stretcher in a final wave of goodbye.
I turned to one of the nurses who debated on whether or not to give her to me and I said, "Maybe I couldn't handle it after all..." She put her hand on my back and she said, "You handled it like you've been a nurse your whole life. Welcome to the profession."
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