I am an oncology nurse, and some weeks are not real pretty at work. There was nothing all that different at work this week, but I kept hearing myself moan deep inside myself at different times this week.
I got floated to another floor one day and one of my patients was a lovely 83 year old lady in for detox from alcohol...moan.
Another patient was a beautiful 35 year old women addicted to pain medication and constantly tried to manipulate more medication from me all night long...moan.
Back up on my floor a gentleman completed his radiation treatment to his throat for esophageal cancer. The flesh on his neck was basically falling off, or sloughing, due to the radiation treatments. He has never complained to me. I applied a gel to his neck for him, but it only helps to soften the toughened, damaged and dead skin...moan.
This gentleman has been on my floor many times throughout his treatment. I have watched him go from a vibrant, fun loving man, to just sitting on the edge of his bed looking into space. The last time he was in the hospital we had to call a code "violet" (for violence) because we had to confront his son when we discovered the son was stealing this man's pain medication and selling it on the street. The son was not a happy camper when he realized that his funds were going to be diminished...moan.
I wonder if I will be at his bedside when he dies...moan.
I stood and listened to a women cry because her father was not dying fast enough and it was making her life too inconvenient. I just stood there watching her tears fall down her face...moan.
I am sure I will write about some of the many beautiful encounters I have with patients and their families, but this week was just unusually complicated with undercurrents of moaning in my soul. I guess it does not help to go to Starbucks for some coffee only to hear the patron in front of me proclaim in a huff about how her latte was not hot enough. I just looked at her beautifully skinned neck...and moaned deep inside.
One Day I Walk
by Bruce Cockburn
Oh I have been a beggar
And shall be one again
And few the ones with help to lend
Within the world of men
One day I walk in flowers
one day I walk on stones
Today I walk in hours
One day I shall be home
I have sat on the street corner
And watched the bootheels shine
And cried out glad and cried out sad
With every voice but mine
One day I walk in flowers
one day I walk on stones
Today I walk in hours
One day I shall be home
One day I shall be home
I got floated to another floor one day and one of my patients was a lovely 83 year old lady in for detox from alcohol...moan.
Another patient was a beautiful 35 year old women addicted to pain medication and constantly tried to manipulate more medication from me all night long...moan.
Back up on my floor a gentleman completed his radiation treatment to his throat for esophageal cancer. The flesh on his neck was basically falling off, or sloughing, due to the radiation treatments. He has never complained to me. I applied a gel to his neck for him, but it only helps to soften the toughened, damaged and dead skin...moan.
This gentleman has been on my floor many times throughout his treatment. I have watched him go from a vibrant, fun loving man, to just sitting on the edge of his bed looking into space. The last time he was in the hospital we had to call a code "violet" (for violence) because we had to confront his son when we discovered the son was stealing this man's pain medication and selling it on the street. The son was not a happy camper when he realized that his funds were going to be diminished...moan.
I wonder if I will be at his bedside when he dies...moan.
I stood and listened to a women cry because her father was not dying fast enough and it was making her life too inconvenient. I just stood there watching her tears fall down her face...moan.
I am sure I will write about some of the many beautiful encounters I have with patients and their families, but this week was just unusually complicated with undercurrents of moaning in my soul. I guess it does not help to go to Starbucks for some coffee only to hear the patron in front of me proclaim in a huff about how her latte was not hot enough. I just looked at her beautifully skinned neck...and moaned deep inside.
One Day I Walk
by Bruce Cockburn
Oh I have been a beggar
And shall be one again
And few the ones with help to lend
Within the world of men
One day I walk in flowers
one day I walk on stones
Today I walk in hours
One day I shall be home
I have sat on the street corner
And watched the bootheels shine
And cried out glad and cried out sad
With every voice but mine
One day I walk in flowers
one day I walk on stones
Today I walk in hours
One day I shall be home
One day I shall be home
2 comments:
...moan...
Todays news from Virginia Tech makes me moan again.
Bruce's words ring very true.
Yes...moan.
Some things just go deeper than words can express.
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