Tuesday, November 3, 2009

Graduation: The Pinning Ceremony

For the past four years, I have looked forward to the day I graduate. It wasn’t especially exciting for me to graduate high school, because I knew that three months afterwards I would be starting yet another four years of school until I actually was able to start real life. And lo, the time has come! In December, I will walk across the stage and be able to wave adios to college (until graduate school, but I’m going to try and forget about that for now.) For those of you who aren’t familiar with graduating from a nursing program, there is a special ceremony (aside from the typical graduation ceremony) that most schools have – it’s called a pinning ceremony.

I can’t speak for any more than the couple nursing schools I know about, but generally, each student nurse walks up on stage one by one and gets a special pin with an insignia from his/her nursing school pinned on him/her by a special person in the graduate’s life. For example, as a side note, I’m hoping my husband and mom can pin me, but my husband has extreme stage phobia to the point where he needs medication or else he’ll faint and my mom already told me she’s going to bawl her eyes out just looking at me, so it looks like I’ll have to recruit my dog to pin me. Anyway, back to the pinning ceremony. So all the students get pinned by a loved one, some faculty members give a few speeches, and we eat some cookies or something. Oh, and did I mention the Florence Nightingale Nursing Pledge that we all recite (AKA The Nightingale Pledge)? Ahem. Here it goes:

I solemnly pledge myself before God and in the presence of this assembly:
To pass my life in purity and to practice my profession faithfully;
I will abstain from whatever is deleterious and mischievous and will not take or knowingly administer any harmful drug;
I will do all in my power to maintain and elevate the standard of my profession and will hold in confidence all personal matters committed to my keeping and all family affairs coming to my knowledge in the practice of my calling;
With loyalty will I endeavor to aid the physician in his work and devote myself to the welfare of those committed to my care.

This is what I am dreading the most – well, besides the fact that the pinning ceremony is going to be held in a megachurch (I’m in Texas, remember?). There are some more modernized and updated Nightingale Pledge variants floating around, but I’m not sure which one my class pinning committee has decided on. I have heard many older nurses mention “the Pledge,” normally in addition to whatever else they’re using to deride us about something or other. “Hmph. New nurses these days… don’t they know about the Pledge?” So at least for older nurses, it is considered something relatively important in the field of nursing; it’s essentially our Hippocratic Oath.

I personally don’t think it’s necessary at all for us to take an oath (or for anyone to ever take an oath, for that matter – it’s not the Middle Ages.) Any licensed medical professional should be competent enough to understand the main concepts of caring for other people: don’t hurt them intentionally, strive to prevent errors and mistakes, and abide by all of the general ethical principles of veracity, fidelity, beneficence, nonmaleficence, etc. It’s common sense, and they should be followed regardless of whether an oath is taken or not – it’s part of the job, and part of the responsibility we bear as health care workers. It’s ridiculous to think that student nurses aren’t going to behave ethically until we robotically repeat some century-old phrases.

I am ecstatic about graduating and can’t wait to actually begin practicing in the field that I have worked so hard for, which will undoubtedly provide me countless stories to retell here. Even though I don’t necessarily look forward to some parts of the pinning ceremony, I understand its symbolism is well-intentioned. Unfortunately, I have the sinking feeling that I might be the only student nurse at the ceremony not pledging myself “before god” and passing my “life in purity”. Instead, I’ll strive to be a rockin’ nurse who treats all patients equally and has the benefit of not being biased toward any religion or god at all. But for now, that’ll have to remain my little secret.

Wednesday, April 15, 2009

A Difficult Conclusion

I have known of quite a few patients in the ICU that I’m in that have died. I have even cared for a few of them on a day shortly before their deaths. However, I have not yet seen a “code” situation or watched a person die, let alone clean up their bodies afterwards.

Today I had that experience. When I arrived on the floor a little after 6AM, the night shift nurses were all unusually busy, and both the night shift charge nurse and day shift charge nurse were in the same room, along with two other nurses and a respiratory therapist. They were shaking their heads frequently and running around, saying the patient's O2 sats were in the 70s-80s (which is pretty bad, but is by no means a death sentence.) When the charge nurse came out, I purposely (unknown to her) asked to be with a different patient, even though I knew the previously mentioned patient would certainly be an intensive learning experience.

Since my first day on the unit, I have been unbelievably petrified of having one of my patients code. The charge nurses always try to give us very sick patients because they are the best learning experiences for students – so I have gladly welcomed opportunities to learn. Regardless of my desire to learn, I have still been, simply put – TERRIFIED – of being in a code situation and having to give chest compressions, bag them, push epinephrine/emergency meds, etc. It doesn’t help that I have a pretty low level of confidence in myself, which is almost crippling at times. So this morning, there was something in the air about this guy – and I did NOT want to be on the front lines when he crashed, which seemed pretty likely.

About two hours later, I hear the calm, almost robotic voice of someone calling a code blue over the intercom system of the hospital. People came running from every corner of the campus – cardiac, chaplains, pharmacist, anesthesia, respiratory backup – everyone. Not to mention the three students (including myself) that were already on the unit. I walked over from my patient’s room to the room where the code was happening, and there were already 20 or so people crowding the room. The large glass doors were flung open, and one of the nephrologists (he was in the room when the patient coded) was giving chest compressions – but the nurses were clearly running the show. I walked over at the same time as the patient’s three family members came rushing to the room, and my heart broke. In a matter of seconds as they saw the nightmare scenario before them, they began crying and quivering and clutching each other while sobbing. I wanted so badly to say something to them and comfort them, but I started crying just looking at them and had to control myself and look away to remain “professional.” It was frightening to me too; I’d never experienced anything like it.

In a shortened version, here is what actually happened to cause the code blue. The man was (clearly) ridiculously ill. Among other things, he was on continuous renal replacement therapy (dialysis) and the nephrologist was in the room with the nurse to secure a usable access site for the dialysis. During this period, the nurse noticed that the patient’s already low O2 sats were getting lower, and he had no pulses – this is called PEA or Pulseless Electrical Activity. It means that, essentially, the patient’s cardiac electrical system is working just fine – so on an EKG, the heart appears to be just beating away and working fine. However, it is pulseless, meaning that though the electrical conduction system is working, the contractile abilities of the heart are gone, and so the patient’s heart isn’t pumping a drop of blood. The body can only sustain this for a small amount of time, because eventually the cardiac muscles stop receiving oxygen. At this point, this particular patient went into ventricular tachycardia and then ventricular fibrillation. The defibrillator was fired up while CPR was done, and then the patient was defibrillated. On the first try, they brought back a rhythm and pumped him full of a number of emergency drugs to bring up his blood pressure. Even though they brought back a heart rhythm, he was in respiratory arrest as well and his blood pressure was really almost nonexistent. Shortly after that he went down again and they attempted CPR, but the doctors told the family that there was nothing more they could do.

An hour or so later, one of the nurses asked if I would like to help prepare the body. I said no, but went anyway. We were taught about this in school, but I hadn’t yet ever experienced a death. Basically all of the tubes, IVs, catheters and other lines need to be removed and the body is bathed. Clean sheets and gown are then arranged, so the patient looks as clean and “normal” as possible for the family. This all sounds simple and nice, but I’m going to be honest – it was pretty disturbing. Because of chest compressions from CPR, air gets pumped into the patient and they kind of burp when you roll them – and it smells of their insides. Because the blood pools, the skin on the underside of the patient becomes mottled and purple. He also bled out of some of the small holes where his IVs were because his body wasn’t clotting any longer, and along with other body fluids, it was kind of messy. The oddest part of this was how the room smelled and how he smelled – it wasn’t any cleaning solvents, medicines, or blood or body fluids – I could distinguish those well enough. The smell was not unpleasant… it was almost a sweet odor, musky and fleshy. I wondered if that is what death smells like, when the body is just beginning to disassemble itself and dissolve back into the ground.

The whole day didn’t necessarily make me sad, but it got me thinking. Mainly I feel an awful, painful sympathy for the patient’s family. The look of terror and despair on their faces was more than I can handle, and I’m not sure I could work on a unit where that look is commonplace. It made me realize just how important a role nurses can play in saving a person’s life with smart, efficient decisions and delegating. But at the same time, I felt a deeper knowing of how gloomy, disheartening, and achingly real it can be.

Wednesday, April 1, 2009

To Judge or not to Judge

Again, it has been far too long since I posted an entry. I think it is largely because even now, I am afraid that I will somehow get into trouble for writing about my experiences. I do believe though that as long as I divulge no specifics, I’ll have done nothing more than share my boring life with the world. In any case, I have had an interesting semester so far. Here is a brief list of some of the craziest/saddest/most fascinating stuff:

-Saw a “drive by” birth; i.e. the mother comes rolling down the hall at 9cm dilated with no prenatal care and shoots the baby out within minutes. Oh, and she spoke no English. And my god, she screamed as though she was pushing out a bowling ball covered in razor blades.
-Saw far too many children slowly being eaten up by repeated bouts of cancer
-Caring for and feeding babies so premature they are the size of water bottles
-Two words: necrotizing fasciitis. Due to the misfortune of catching such a horrible infection, my patient passed away just the night after I met her.

There have been other things of course, but the vast majority of my stories are more subtly heartbreaking rather than so mentally or visually disturbing. I have quite a few more days left in my ICU rotation, and I’m sure I’ll see far more depressing, ethically challenging things before I’m done.

Specifically, I cared for an emaciated critically ill man who had been transferred from prison to nursing home to the hospital. He required intensive, detailed, gentle care, and during the day as I watched him grimace and slowly deteriorate I wondered what he had done to land himself in prison. He looked so helpless and childlike, it was hard to imagine the life he'd led. I later found out that he was a murderer. It made me feel strange to know that, but it didn’t change how I felt about him or my day. It’s interesting to learn about patient’s lives – who they love, who they are, what they’ve done, their transgressions. I have to constantly remind myself to not judge patients and their family members for ignoring or neglecting one another. A dying grandfather whose family has deserted him, while appearing sad and lonely, may have been an unremorseful pedophile or abuser. A middle-aged woman’s family may seem calm and relieved after learning of her impending death - not out of malice but out of love – she’ll soon be out of her extended misery. A forlorn bald child with cancer whose family rarely visits – her parents may be doing all they can to make enough money for her treatments.

I know it all sounds cliché and stupid, but I swear, half of this “being a good nurse” stuff is about working through the emotions of it all. Making sure I don’t turn myself one way or the other. Most of all, I'm trying not to judge what goes on in a hospital – almost everyone is at their very best or their very worst, and you have no idea who’s who.

Friday, January 23, 2009


It has been nearly 3 months since I've posted. I feel bad about it, like I'm neglecting my baby or something. This blog was meant to be my baby after all.

Luckily, I have found myself settling in to nursing school and feeling more comfortable with my fellow students. But school is practically over now; in December, I will graduate! More and more often, life takes the opportunity to smack me across the face with the realization that IT NEVER SLOWS DOWN. I feel old and haggard already and I'm not even 22 yet. It seemed like just yesterday when I started this blog.

In any case, it's now the NEXT semester. I have Labor and Delivery, Critical Care, and Pediatrics this time around. Since the beginning of school, I've kept my mind completely open about what field of nursing (there are dozens) I want to get into. I've always had a special place in my heart for pediatrics, however, so I'm excited to see how I actually like it. Enjoying working with the little ones is probably the one stereotypical girl thing I possess. I think it's because I find it difficult to not be able to touch patients for fear of lawsuits and charges. Nurses are certainly allowed to touch patients, but it is more suggested that we do small things like holding a hand or petting an arm. But sometimes, someone just looks like they need a big hug! And with adults, it's much harder to know when that's appropriate or not and whether the patient would feel comfortable or not. Hell, there've been plenty of times when I have needed a hug but I don't know how to ask for it or I feel awkward initiating it. On the other hand, with kids and babies, it's pretty well established that hugs and touching are requirements for proper growth and development. It makes it a lot easier for someone like me!

Also, wiping a kid's butt is a lot less weird than helping an embarrassed grown man use the bathroom. I don't know if that's a common perspective, but it's how I feel and it's hard for me to get around it.

But enough of the chatter! This is a blog chronicling, to some degree, my dealings with religion and nursing. So far, more of the instructors than not have mentioned religion in some form. When one student sneezed, "GOD BLESS!" popped out of an instructor's mouth before the sneeze was even completed. Another discussed her entry into L&D nursing: "You never know what god has in store for you." Several of them graduated from Baptist schools or have husbands that are pastors or reverends. I am curious as to what it is about nursing that draws overtly religious folks. Perhaps it is a Bible Belt phenomenon.

By now it is easier for me to not be outwardly surprised by the things they say. I am intrigued and nervous about what they will teach us about circumcision, breast feeding, and labor and delivery care in general. With some things I can bite my tongue, but when I come across something that is being done just because "it's what we've always done!", I don't tolerate that very well. In general, Western birthing culture seems to be a bastardized, sterilized version of what nature intended. Don't get me wrong - I'm not saying our technology isn't wonderful and life-saving. In the case of circumcision, in probably 99% of cases it is unnecessary (I will probably dedicate a post to the topic as it deals directly with religion). Additionally, many Christians in this country do it because "It's in the Bible!" Yes it sure is; but it's referring to the Jewish peoples' covenant with god. Last time I checked, Christians aren't Jews. See how my sarcasm is cropping up already? It should be an interesting semester.