Be Thankful. It Could Be Worse. Much Worse.

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Crush the meds. Mix it with water. Turn the lock open. Check the patency. Plunge the reconstituted solution into the G-tube. Flush. Set the mask aside. Insert the suction tubing. Suction. Silence the vent. Disconnect the tubing. Add the nebulizer. Run it. Check the cath bag.

“How you doing sir? Any pain at all? Nausea? It’s me Scott again…your nurse for the evening. I’m just passing meds and seeing how you’re doing.” There was really no point, in me talking. It would be like talking to a wall. Patient had a flat affect, unable to state his needs, only responsive to tactile stimuli. That was pretty much it. I couldn’t get as much as a smile, let alone two syllables.

Next room. Today, I basically rammed a tube down a patient’s nose (nasogastric tube). It was pretty unsettling for the guy; gagging major signs of discomfort. And to tell you the truth, I cringed just as much. His old tube got clogged. And unfortunately, he goes through this kind of thing quite often.

More recently, I find myself having to change my alarm clock tune. Sometimes, I just don’t even hear it anymore. The beeps of the vents, the G-tubes, the PICC lines, the white noise of the nebulizers. I guess, they’re all just starting to blend together. I’m sure I’m not the only one. Luckily, I’m still a light sleeper. “Swings and roundabouts,” I suppose.

I can’t help but think about all the bs that I complain about in my life. Just recently, I deleted my personal Instagram and Facebook accounts (for like the millionth time), just to express how I feel about having hundreds of “Followers/Friends,” but in reality only talk to like 2-3 of them. There’s also the bs I think about in my head about feeling “stuck in a rut,” asking myself questions like “what will I do next with my life? Why the hell am I paying for cable and I don’t even watch television all that much?” Random s**t like that. And I can’t forget all the bs we read in the news, on a daily basis.

Here I am, constantly busting my own chops, battling my own neuroses, beating myself up on pointless things in life. #FirstWorldProblems. Sounds like a typical Monday, I assure you.

I get paid well, I have a roof over my head (in a well thought of neighborhood), I eat when I’m hungry. What more could I ask for? I’m so ungrateful. Blessed that’s for damn sure, yet ungrateful and oblivious to even notice the good things in life.

Not much left you could do if you’re left unable to think for yourself, depend on a vent to breathe or even some tube to eat.

Be Thankful. It Could Be Worse. Much Worse. 

Just as long as you try. 

I’m trying. I like to think so anyway.



Author: nursesarereal

My nursing professor once said that keeping a journal, over time, will allow me to see growth. In myself? I’m not sure yet. I’m hoping. I like to believe that nursing school saved my life. Maybe I’ll have some fun doing this. Cheers.

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