The Difference Between Nursing and Journalism

Nurse's Note by jparadisi

Nurse’s Note by jparadisi

On any given shift, nurses witness the drama of life and death. This aspect of our work is unlikely to change. We witness patients taking in the bad news of their diagnosis, holding basins up to their faces while they vomit, and transfusing blood products before they exsanguinate. Although oncology is not an actual war, nurses and patients alike use military terms to describe it, such as battling cancer, or attacking tumor cells. We see ourselves as comrades in the fight against this devastating enemy.

Louisa May Alcott, author of Little Women, was a nurse during the Civil War. In her memoir, Hospital Sketches, she describes witnessing the death of a young soldier in detail so vividly the scene rings true for any nurse who has attended the bedside of the dying.

Whether we record our experiences in words to share with others, or keep them to ourselves, as nurses we bear witness to the suffering of our patients. Sometimes this secondary trauma leads to compassion fatigue, if not real disease or injury.

Watching people suffer is difficult, but at least I am not watching helplessly. I am grateful to be an oncology nurse now, when advancements in cancer treatment and its side effects occur regularly. Armed with these tools, oncology nurses bring knowledge and skill to the care and comfort of their patients. For me the ability to give aid makes witnessing the suffering bearable. I think being a news journalist or photographer sent to bear witness of the stories of conflicts in the world would be more difficult. Or filming a devastating natural disaster while people perish. Journalism requires a story, and pictures. Granted, at their best, these stories and pictures alert the world to action, serving a valuable purpose. Still, emotional trauma occurs among journalists, as in nurses.

Even Alcott experienced trauma from her military service when she contracted typhoid fever. She suffered lifelong chronic pain, a side effect of the mercury-based medication used to treat her. This is not unlike secondary cancers suffered by oncology patients from the chemotherapy administered to save them from their primary cancer.

Have you ever felt helpless in a patient care setting? Do your nursing skills offset the emotional trauma you experience or have little impact? What tools do you use to prevent compassion fatigue for yourself?

Clutter Be Gone! Mental Clutter Off Switch at TheONC & AJN Releases iPad App Tomorrow

Shutting down the mental clutter of work after your shift is over is the topic of my post for TheONC this week. Included are Ideas for creating a “mental clutter shut-off switch,” and readers are responding with their own methods too. You can follow TheONC on Twitter @The_ONC and Facebook.

Going digital cuts down on physical clutter, and I am excited the American Journal of Nursing releases its iPad app tomorrow on iTunes. Tomorrow only, April 28, the app is free!

Hospitals Are Not Restaurants

A Blank List photo: jparadisi 2012

My horoscope says today is a good day for diversion, but I disagree. This is one of those mornings I wake up with a to do list forming in my head, which means I am already behind. One of the things on the list is writing this post. Be charitable as you read it; I haven’t finished my coffee yet.

This feeling of being behind before the day begins is familiar in our home. David, a hospital pharmacist, and I work the same weekends, and this weekend we both worked the Saturday, Sunday, Monday stretch. For some reason, all hospitals I’m familiar with staff units lighter on weekends: no unit secretary, linens are not delivered, IT support is unavailable. Pharmacy has less support, meaning nursing waits for medications to arrive; everything slows down.

This mindset is puzzlement. Why would weekends be more or less busy in a hospital than any other day of the week as if they are restaurants?  I’ve worked in food service. For restaurants, happy hours and dinners are consistently busier on Fridays and Saturdays than weekdays. Restaurants catering to the business lunch crowd are understandably busier Monday through Fridays.

People do not schedule how sick they are going to be according to the day of the week.

Granted, most doctors’ offices are closed, and surgeries are usually not scheduled on weekends. I get that. However, this leads to the proviso that people who are admitted for hospitalization are too critical to wait until Monday for surgery or treatment. Trauma and sepsis do not wait until the doctor is in. They keep the weekend health care team pretty damn busy.

I’m not complaining, just pointing out a reality of life in health care, by way of explaining today, our first day off, both David and I are feeling a little frazzled. The evidence of this is on our dining room table. Rather than a place for a leisurely, home cooked meal, over the weekend it has become a catchall for the implements of our trades: his messenger bag, my tote. Both of our notebooks charge quietly, their green LED lights reflected in the luster of the table’s finish. Valentine’s Day cards, still without a permanent home, remain on the table.  Although our home is a disorganized mess, there is love.

We’re out of food though. Add a grocery store run to the to do list.

TheONC: A New Blogging Community for Oncology Nurses and Teams

Last week CancerNetwork launched TheONC; an online community for oncology nurses and staff. TheONC is a gated site for professionals so login is required to participate. The video link below explains more fully:

video.asp?section_id=1687&doc_id=238579

TheONC features bloggers with a wide spectrum of expertise writing on various aspects of cancer care. As a contributing blogger, I write from the perspective of an artist working in oncology. Through weekly posts, readers and I will discuss creativity, and its pursuit, in nursing. Images of my artwork accompany the posts. My first went live yesterday.

AJN’s On the Web

This morning I’m drinking my first cup of coffee, thumbing through the January 2012 issue of the American Journal of Nursing. A familiar sentence catches my eyes in On the Web, page 22. It’s a line from a post published (and I wrote) on their blog Off the Charts. Thanks AJN!

It’s gonna be a good day.

Shift Observations

photo: jparadisi

Three nurses at lunch break in the staff lounge, focus intently on their phones. A fourth nurse enters.

She asks, “What would we do without our smartphones?”

Silence.

One nurse looks up, smiles, and says, “Talk to  each other?”

A longer pause, then shrieks of laughter.

All heads return to their phones.

A Member of the New Uninsured Apologizes to President Obama

I Wish I Could Have Sold More Cookies to Pay For My Surgery photo: jparadisi 2011

In previous posts, I propound Universal Access to health care. I’m not particularly attached to whether states individually create their models, or if it is federally operated. I believe no one should go without health care.

As I’ve written before on this blog, the faces of the uninsured are changing. Yesterday, the Los Angeles Times featured an Op-Ed, Breast Cancer, Health Care, and a Public Apology to President Obama, by Spike Dolomite Ward, who typifies the New Uninsured. Her plight describes that of many of the patients admitted to the outpatient oncology infusion clinic where I work.

Many people tell me, “I take good care of my health. That’s my health care insurance.” Ward’s essay illustrates how that sort of believism isn’t enough.

Elementary My Dear Watson, Ambulatory Care Is a Specialty

I almost shouted, “No Sh*#t Sherlock,” at Medscape when I saw the article Ambulatory Care Nursing: Yes, It’s a Specialty, by Laura A. Stokowski, RN, MS. Once I got past the title and read the article, however, I found Stokowski’s grasp of ambulatory care nursing accurate.

When I left Pediatric Intensive Care to work in a hospital based oncology/ infusion clinic, I had to acquire oncology skills and national certification (OCN). I also had to revise my approach to patient care.  Ambulatory care is different from inpatient nursing, but no less challenging. Each requires a large amount of knowledge, expert assessment skills coupled with critical thinking, and the ability to communicate clearly and accurately to a variety of educational levels. Unlike inpatient nursing, outpatient continuity of care necessitates coordination with home infusion, hospice, pharmacies, and other medical offices. Often these services occur outside of the hospital system of our clinic, and information exchange creates extra work. An understanding of insurance carriers, ICD codes, pre-authorization, and billing is helpful. I never worried about this part of healthcare when I worked in a hospital.

Our clinic is nurse run. We are not Nurse Practioners. Most days, my only contact with a physician occurs through his or her medical assistant over the telephone. Physicians send their patients with orders for treatments. We schedule the patients; they get their treatments, and go home, most of the time. Occasionally, patients confuse ambulatory care with emergency care, and they come in too sick for our services. We deliver them to the ER for triage instead. Part of my job is making sure they are in the right department for the care they need.

As a PICU nurse, I was used to taking report from an ER nurse, not giving report to one. Occasionally, I’d catch a nurse rolling his or her eyes at me, indicating doubt that the patient needed a hospital admission. After a time or two I’ve proven I know a sick patient when I see one.

We infuse blood products, and medications requiring close monitoring such as chemotherapies, Rituxan, Remicade, IVIG, and first-time doses of IV or IM antibiotics. Most reactions patients experience are controlled by slowing the infusion rate and additional pre medications, but it is not unusual to hear a shout from a nurse and find a patient in the beginning phase of anaphylaxis. I have acquired ninja-like skill with subcutaneous Epi-pens.

We have advanced IV and Central Venous Access Device (CVAD) skills, because we are responsible for the care of our patients’ PICC and midlines, ports, Broviacs, and with permission from their doctors, dialysis catheters. If any of these devices clot, they come to us for first-line treatment.

We do a LOT of teaching about cancer care, including stem cell transplant mobilization and tri-lumen catheter care. Encompassed in teaching oncology patients is compassionate presence, the ability to sit quietly listening to the patient and their caregivers. In my opinion, this is the most rewarding part of our work, and the juncture where science, humanity, and art converge.

Stokowski reveals the long-term relationships ambulatory care nurses develop with patients over years of care. Professional boundaries with patients seen multiple times a week over years poses a different set of challenges for the ambulatory care nurse versus an inpatient nurse. I imagine it’s even more challenging for hospice and home care nurses.

On weekends, patients often ask if I like my job. What they want to know is if I mind giving up my Saturday, Sunday, or holiday caring for them. Nursing sort of makes one day equal to another; weekends aren’t special to me. I explain that what I enjoy most about ambulatory nursing is that, at the end of the day, everyone gets to go home. When I worked inpatient, it felt like a continuing onslaught of never ending tasks; only the person in the bed changed. It felt like a relay race: the baton is passed from runner to runner, but somehow the finish line is never in sight. Ambulatory care is more like a 10K: You go as fast as you can, as hard as you can, but at the end of the day, you’ve finished the race. Everyone has a night to himself or herself. The sun rises again, and we come back and start over, anticipating the challenges of a new day.

 

Baby, I Was Born to Run

Identity: Self Portrait

David and I are at our favorite brewery slurping steamer clams with broth-soaked crusty bread and sharing pints. Overhead, Bruce Springsteen’s disembodied voice wails Baby We Were Born to Run:

The highway’s jammed with broken heroes on a last chance power drive

Everybody’s out on the run tonight

but there’s no place left to hide

Together Wendy we can live with the sadness

I’ll love you with all the madness in my soul

h-Oh, Someday girl I don’t know when

we’re gonna get to that place

Where we really wanna go

and we’ll walk in the sun

But till then tramps like us

baby we were born to run

It’s the first hot, sunny day of the year in Portland, and I’m thinking life doesn’t get any better than this.

In a few more days, my medical leave ends and I return to work in the ambulatory oncology clinic. Damn, back to work just as I’m feeling good. That’s how it goes. I’m mostly ready. There are restrictions on lifting, and time on my feet, which require light duty for a couple more weeks. I will return the same week Epic, the electronic medical record (EMR) program, goes into effect. The way the medical leave program works at our hospital, I was restricted from attending Epic training classes while on leave.  I hope I’m allowed to make them up during the time I’m on light duty. Otherwise, I will hit the ground running along with my colleagues.

It’s okay, because baby, I was born to run. Literally. Running is my exercise of choice. I haven’t been able to since this health problem began. Running is as much a part of my morning routines as brushing my teeth. I don’t feel right without it. Hopefully, my surgeon will give the go ahead to start at the next follow up visit. I am cleared for walking and do at least a short one most days. Growing stronger, and healthy again, I feel energy building within me.

The need to run is not only physical. It’s mental too. I miss my nursing job. I miss being the person who helps instead of the person needing help. I want to be Superman, not Lois Lane. I want to drive the motorcycle, not hold on from the back seat.

The Fragrance of Caring

Cupcakes! photo: jparadisi

Hospitals are not known for their fragrance, and recent shifts in particular have lacked delicate bouquet. It comes with the territory, and if I wanted a perfumed environment, I should have chosen a profession that doesn’t include the collection and measurement of body fluids. People with sensitive stomachs should think twice before becoming nurses. Whining about poop and vomit belongs in the “Well What Were You Thinking It Would be Like?” file.

If you require regular and predictable hours for happiness, nursing is not the career for you either. Shifts are unexpectedly extended because of late admissions, acute changes in patient conditions (read EMERGENCIES!!!), short staffing, etc.  In the past weeks, I have left work late for these reasons. Poop, vomit, EMERGENCY! I’m not complaining. This is what I am educated to do. I am proud to be a nurse with the necessary skills to lead patients through their dark moments.

Recently, I came home from a particularly long, smelly shift to find a UPS slip stuck to my door, informing me that a package required my signature IN-PERSON for delivery. The package was my birthday gift from David. I worked the following few days, so I called the UPS customer service number and arranged package pick-up. There was enough time left to pick up the package that evening. Since the gift was from David, he wanted to go get it, even though he’d also worked a longer than expected shift that day. We changed out of our smelly work clothes, and hopped into the car to get the package.

Traffic was horrendous. It was raining, and getting dark. I told David it wasn’t important; we could pick up the package the next day, but he was on a mission. When we finally arrived, it was twenty minutes past the office’s closing time. Surprisingly, the light was on, and the door unlocked. A smiling woman stood at the counter, holding my package. “Are you Paradisi?” she asked. “Yes, I am. Are you waiting for me?” “Yes,” the woman said. “I didn’t want you to drive all this way and find us closed, not in the traffic and weather.”  She extended her shift to take care of me, as I had done during my shift to take care of someone else. It is the essence of excellent customer service: the fragrance of caring, and the gift of time.