Life in Scrubs and Pearls: reflections

2016. Where the hell did 2015 go?! I know it's four days in, however, I never did write an obligatory "New Years Eve Post". Overall, 2015 was a good year.

2015 brought many challenges, emotional decisions and a lot of fun. I never thought at the beginning of the year that I would make the decision to have weight loss surgery. At the beginning of the year, I was planning for my husband to start his nursing clinicals and I was entering my final year of my master's program. I was also preparing to go to Florida to spend time with my aunt, brother and husband and the Detroit Tigers (spring training!!!!).

2015 took me to Phoenix, Arizona for a geriatric trauma conference. I climbed into a "Hole in Rock" while at my highest weight of 310 pounds. It makes me now wonder, what can I do, once I have lost weight? Only time will tell. At the conference I got to spend time with a great friend. It was a work trip, but it was fun!

2015 also took me to Florida. Wisconsin (another work trip, also a great time with some great people!). The upper peninsula for a fun getaway with my husband. We got to spend an awesome night in the Grand Hotel, a once in a lifetime experience!

2015 taught me a lot about myself, nutrition, and becoming healthier. I kicked my 15 year habit of drinking Diet Coke. I had my first major surgery. I witnessed my best friend getting married.

And, I graduated from school! One of my lifetime goals was to have a master's degree. Check!

The thing to remember is that every year will bring happiness and struggles. It is how you deal with those struggles that help you grow. Was 2015 perfect? No. We struggled to make ends meat, with Bob in school full-time and working less. We had family members have health scares. Friends with health scares. 365 days will never all be happy and perfect. There will fights, tears, laughter, smiles, etc.

So, was 2015 was a good year? Yes.

I hope that 2016 is just as good, or better!

Happy new year to you all! I am excited to continue my health journey with you on this blog!

Being a nurse isn't easy. More specifically, being an emergency room nurse...isn't easy. I'm not saying all areas of nursing don't suck. I'm just saying sometimes my job...sucks.

I have seen people at the start of their lives...after their first fews breaths of life in this world. However, I have seen more people breathe their last breaths in this world.

It is physically and emotionally draining and exhausting.

My experience with death, unfortunately, isn't lacking. My first memory of death was my grandma. She died when I was 12. Basically, right in front of me. She was talking one minute. The next minute I was screaming for my mom, 30 seconds later, I watched my mom give her mom CPR while we waited for the paramedics to arrive. I could go into more details, however, I won't. Let's just say, the memory is vivid.

I'll never forget the first patient who died on me. One minute he was awake and looking at me, the next minute he tongued his breathing tube out, 30 seconds later, his heart stopped. His family hugged me tightly for a long time as I sobbed and said "I'm so sorry". They were stronger than me that day.

Then there was the day when two of my friends and co-workers, had to sit me down and tell me my best friend died. I started working in the ER in 2008. That summer I was working a Saturday night shift, when a trauma came in. The trauma was my best friend, Brandon. When he came in, I had no idea who it was. CPR was in progress. My co-workers worked on him, probably for longer than they should have, knowing he was my friend. He was 26. He wasn't wearing his seat belt. He was also drinking.

Two of my friends, took me into a consult room and told me "Brandon died". Probably one of the hardest things they had to do and probably some of the worst words I have ever heard. I screamed through my cries. I know what it feels like to be the family or friends, that are sat down and told their loved one died. I have been on that end. I am more often the person on the other side, working on the patient who is dead or dying, attempting to keep them alive.

A middle age man came into the ER last summer. He was awake, he was talking. He was having a heart attack, severe enough that he had to receive treatment quickly. Hubby was working and I had him go with me to transfer this patient to the cardiac cath lab. His wife walked with us. Before we took him into the procedure room, we stopped to let her say good-bye to him. They kissed quickly, said I love you and separated, fully expecting to see each other in a few hours.

He died within that hour.

Hubby and I went outside, processing what had just happened. He looked at me and said, "We were with her...we were there the last time they saw each other. We were there when they said good-bye." For some reason, this hit home and I freaking lost it. I cried for the next 2 days every time I thought about it.

My grandpa died this summer. He was awake and alert, several hours before he died. He made jokes. He flung (Yes, literally FLUNG) his dentures out of his mouth and said "I don't need these." He died a few hours later. He made up his mind. It was time.

Today a twenty-something year old man came into the ER. He walked in with his father. He talked to me. He joked with me. I saw him from the moment he walked into the ER. I saw him the moment he unexpectedly died just over 4 hours later.

He was 2 years older than me. He walked in. He was talking and joking. He refused a wheelchair at first.

I'm not reflecting on these experiences to be morbid. I have dealt with a lot of emotional experiences in my short career. These are the ones I vividly remember. Somehow, just writing about them...makes me feel a tiny bit better.

Nursing is not easy. For some reason, people go into this career thinking it's an easy way to make money. Maybe for some it is. For most, it isn't.