"This is Rosie, she brings the fun"

Sometimes I worry it gets a little heavy round these parts (meaning around my blog, that is). I try to "bring the fun", and trust me I do have a lot of fun..tons actually. When I am an old lady, I will have lots of laugh lines and only a few frown lines, but lately, the last few months or so things have felt heavy.

I attribute it to my long hours and sleepless nights and the obvious strain being a nurse has on a person. But I am realizing it is more than that, I realize my world view and my reality are shifting because of the things I see in the hospital, the little stolen moments I have with my patients. Lately, I guess I feel broken hearted over the state of humanity. What a stupid and weighted sentence that was.

At the end of last semester my clinical instructor gave me a very sick, brain dead man to take care of. Usually we take two patients, but on this day I only had him. His wife was going to take him off life support the next day, so essentially I spent his last earthly day with this man. Each comatose patient is different, some have movement, some might have their eyes open, some may seem to be tracking you, it depends. His eyes were open and occasionally they seemed to follow me. His wife was not there that day, no doubt she was making arrangements. So it was just the two of us, all day. I went about my business, physical assessment, medications, linen change, bath..all the practicalities of care. At one point in the afternoon I hit a lull so I pulled a chair up next to the bed and sat down. Rachel Ray was on the TV, it had probably been on all day, I just hadn't noticed it in my hustle. She had spilled some salt and was throwing some over her shoulder, I looked out the widow down to the street and saw a homeless man sleeping at the bus stop, and then looked at my patient who had profuse drool coming out of his mouth and a frightful blank stair. And my heart broke. I quickly flicked the TV off and gave his big cold hand a strong squeeze. This man's last day on earth should not involve Rachel Ray throwing salt over her shoulder for "luck".

I've known for a long time that bad things happen and, conversely, good things happen too. That may seem like a very elementary sentence, but lately I am struck by how little respect we have for human life. And how easily our lives slip away. It may be foolish, but when I walk by an empty bed of a patient I took care of the week before, and I know they died my heart breaks a little each time. Not because they died, I know that is a natural part of life...but I guess it hurts my heart to think of them being forgotten and it makes me realize how invisible we all are, how small. I don't want to forget people. I want to remember squeezing that man's hand and the prayer I said wishing him off well to whatever is next for him.

Sadly, this may all stem from a place of being afraid that I will be forgotten, I'd like to hope it comes from a more eternal (and less selfish) place. For now, I am going to make it my calling to remember. To have the strength to look people straight in the eyes, and connect. I'm going to try to see beyond all those empty beds.