The Best Distraction

I had just found out late last night that a cousin of mine was diagnosed with inoperable lung cancer so was feeling a little bummed out.

Then, almost as if by magic, I got a call from my lovely niece and her boyfriend.  She was preparing veggies and a knife went into her finger.   Remember the incident that happened several years ago with our tenant when he did the exact same thing? 

I did a quick little traige and deemed her safe to stay home and just with instructions on keeping it clean, covering it up and watching for symptoms of infection - all was well and good.

My husband wanted to see a photo, so what did she do?

Posted to Facebook.......

showing me the finger, published with permission :)

Can you tell they are theatre majors?

I can't begin to tell you how much this made me laugh.

It was a very welcome distraction.

It's so sweet when they ask my advice when injured.

Accidental Nursing: It could have been worse I guess.

You may have read my previous posts on "Accidental Nursing" where I have ended up using my nursing skills as a "Good Samaritan".

Here is another "Accidental Nursing" story from this past month.

I was busy working in my office and my husband slips a note under my door.



We had just lost our wonderful BC Ambulance renter to a house purchase, and now a temporary immigrant farm worker (Male, American caucasian with a Master's degree in Organic Farming in case you were jumping to conclusions) making big bucks in Canada was renting our Carriage house.

I put my work on hold and ran upstairs to check it out.

The dog greeted me at the door. "Hey there, pups!" I rub his ears.

Our renter's girlfriend swung the door wide open. "I can't believe it - I fainted!!!!"

Me: "Did you hit your head?"
GF: "No...."
Me: "OK then, where's the patient??"

She pointed to our renter, sitting with legs spread-eagled, slumped over a chair seat and the cupboards - pale as my morning latte. He's holding his thumb.

At this point I am thinking "OMG, he has sliced his finger off!!!"

The offending knife is lying on the counter with a host of veggies.

"Let me see it." I take charge. I need to - they are both near hysterical.

He takes the wad of toilet paper off to reveal this:



Well, OK. This isn't his thumb. He's a big guy.

I drew on my own thumb to illustrate - and re-enact it for my husband and this blog.

My husband went into hysterics when I retold the story. He has had 3 finger injuries, the first where he burned off all his skin with hot 500 degree wax, the second where he had a crush injury with starburst fracture of all fingers and the last where he eventually lost his fingernails.

A tiny superficial cut like our renters was small potatoes in my husband's books....and mine for that matter.

Of course I reacted in the way any nurse would do.

"Of COURSE you don't need to go to ED and get stitches," I laughed. "Steri-strips won't even hold that flap closed - it's only a tiny cut!"

But, like a good nurse, I got out my supply of steri-strips and a knuckle bandage and taped him up, giving instructions to see an MD if it looked infected down the road.

I was trusting his information that he was able to clean it well. Seeing how it was an injury with a knife and not one of his dirty farm implements, I told him he would be OK if he had had his tetanus immunization in the last 10 years.

Within 10 minutes....I was back to work....leaving the patient still slumped on the floor in his apartment, GF helicoptering around him.

Can you imagine this guy showing up at the local Emergency Department? (I'll bet you can!)

They should thank me.

Oh.

And our renter now?

When we had them over the other night for dinner (wound beautifully healed I must say!) and he offered to make a salad, I declined with sincere thanks.

I didn't want him going anywhere near a knife that was going to cut veggies I was going to eat!

Campground Shenanigans

An incident at the campsite reinforced my belief that people will shop around for the answer they want to hear, disregarding all "professional-type" advice - no matter how illogical that sounds.

After all,  don't most people usually shop around for the best advice about how to repair their car from the most experienced mechanics, and then turn around and get the local homeless guy on the corner to fix the car just because he advised a magical easy fix for the problem that cost only pennies?

Thought so.

I was minding my own business, in the campstore lineup waiting to purchase some easy-start campfire pods and this woman was running around the little camp store (despite it not being a fully stocked drugstore) yelling - "where's your Benzocaine" and "what! Don't you have Benzocaine??"

She attempted multiple times to interrupt the poor kid on the phone taking a reservation - while several others, including myself, patiently waited in line for their purchases.

In hopes to get her off the kid's back - and also to perhaps help her out - I asked why she needed the Benzocaine.   She replied that one of her kids cut his knee and she needed benzocaine for it.

I identified myself as an RN and suggested she just wash the cut thoroughly with soap and running water for 5 minutes using ordinary dishsoap - don't use mercurachrome, alcohol or hydrogen peroxide because it could damage healthy, healing skin - put a simple dressing on it and keep it clean.  

The kid was young enough to have his tetanus up to date, thankfully - if he was actually immunized.

I reviewed with her the parameters of what kind of an assessment would take her in to have it stitched....and then .... it happened.

Along came Joe Schmoe with his "first aid kit" telling the woman how he would fix the wound with his out-of-date-numerously-used neosporin tube harboring heaven knows what bacterial growth (yes there is an expiry date on those tubes!) from all the fingers that scooped a gob off the tip .... giving the exact opposite advice that I *just* gave the woman.

No medical background whatsoever.

Of course she listened to him  because he was the one offering the first aid kit and I don't even carry so much as a bandaid with me. 

Of course she listened to him because my instructions were much too simplistic and didn't include fancy magical concoctions carried in a decades-old first aid kit.

They both walked off together to "fix" the kid.

That's ok.  I am now so used to that. 

Daily occurance, believe it or not.

It's almost amusing....but I am getting to the point of - why bother???

Am I a bad Wife or a Bad Nurse?

I don't know if Nursing is a help or hindrance at home lately.

We see and hear of such awful things in the course of a day as a nurse, it's sometimes difficult to get worked up over what appears to be a minor symptom at home.

Love this icepack?
Get it here

Last week my husband complained to me of TMJ-type pain (3/10) that radiated up onto the side of his head.  He was worried he was having a stroke.


I ask him the usual questions you ask when a person thinks they are having one.

Nada.

I told him to take a couple of ibuprofen and put ice on his head.   I also told him to stop chewing gum, for goodness sake.

I didn't hear anything more about it after that, and like most of us - when there were no further complaints,  assumed the problem was resolved.

I assumed wrong.

Last night my husband was obviously restless and when I asked him what was going on with him.....he replied that it was the same pain as before, only now there was "tingling" in his scalp and he couldn't sleep.  His CPAP wasn't helping the situation either.

"Did you put ice on it like I told you?"

"Well, no."

"Well....go and get some ice and put it on the area. If you actually do that - you might get some relief."

He goes downstairs to the kitchen.

I could hear rattling and banging doors and a crash of a dish.

He comes back in the room empty-handed.

"Where's the ice for your head?"

"I couldn't find it so I guess I can do without it.  I'll be fine. " Big *sigh*

Obviously not.

I get out of the comfortable warm bed and head for the kitchen.  My toes are freezing cold.

The sacrifices we make.

I get out a litre ziploc bag, put a half kilo of ice in it and just cover with water...press the air out and seal.  I find the cloth container expressly for such things and put the icepack in it and head back up to the bedroom.

"Here you go.  Stick it on your head where it hurts."

I snuggle back down under the covers, trying to warm up.

I hear rustling around on the other side of the bed for about another 10 minutes while he fiddles with and adjusts his CPAP over his ice pack.

Finally - Silence.

At two am I am awakened by snoring and look over to see the CPAP is off.

It takes me another 3 hours to get back to sleep.

In the morning....my husband apologises profusely....

"Thanks sooooo much honey, that ice pack really did help and I am so sorry I didn't listen to you when you first told me to use the ice ... but I didn't feel like it would help."

I am used to family not listening to me at this point.

"Oh....and honey?   Sorry about taking the CPAP off last night.  It just didn't fit very well with the ice.....but....good news I am feeling great now - right???!!!"

I yawn.

"Great, honey. Nice to hear.  I am happy for you - really - Now let me get a little more sleep."

"There but for the Grace of God..."

I used to live right downtown in the heart of Vancouver - the West End actually.  Right in  the heart of the Gay district - two blocks from English Bay... Sunset Beach.

 I lived in a 100 year old building with floors so sloped -  that if you put a marble on the old hardwood floor in the living room - you could watch it travel  past the kitchen and into the bathroom.

 I was allowed to paint the apartment as I wished.  There was no regulating the radiator heat - and sometimes we had to open the windows to cool the place off,  or turn on the gas stove and open the oven door to warm the place up.   Members of the "Swollen Members" Band lived across the street from me, and when I vacated my apartment,  a band member of Bif Naked (saw her in a Lilith Fair Concert with Sarah McLachlan )moved in.

I put an ad on the bulletin board at the local Internet cafe and thus got myself a really nice roommate - a young gal from Australia - she happened to be a psychologist, but couldn't practice in Canada...and ended up working instead as a tour guide on the gondolas up Grouse Mountain.

 I loved the movement of kids in and out of the apartment - there was a never ending assortment of interesting people...Kiwis, displaced Montrealers.....you name it.  My roomie would bring them home.  I worked nights at that point and since I slept like a rock during the day and was never home at night...it was a great arrangement.

Living downtown Vancouver was just a different atmosphere than any I have known.  It feels less like a city and more like a small village.  You can sit outside at any number of local coffee shops and restaurants year round.  The weather is that moderate.   People are friendly.  They smile and say "hi" as they go by.  You often see the same people over and over again.

 Even the street people were like family.  People living downtown would make sure the local street people were taken care of.   One of the  "givens" was that you would save your refundable bottles and put them out once a week for the local street people so they could come by with their carts and collect them and turn them in for cash.

I remember one young aboriginal guy that could be found on the same street corner every morning as I walked home.  He always had a cheery "Good morning" and a big smile as I would pass by.  Very friendly. Happy-go-lucky type.  Once in a while I would stop and talk.

 He never asked for money, but if it was something you wanted to do, he was open to offers. Always said "Thank-you! Have a nice day!" whether you gave or not. I never gave money - it's just my policy - but always food or items he might need.   Curious, I asked him how much he could collect in a day. 

"Oh - some days it's better than others.   I sometimes am lucky and can get $50 by noon.  If that happens I run to the store and buy myself a nice big steak to eat."  Life, to him, was pretty simple.

One morning, when passing by his usual spot on my way home from work,  I could see he was in rough shape.  He looked like crap. I stopped and asked if he was OK.   "My friends beat me up - we got into it" .   He had a deep gash on his elbow and  bruises to his face. Ripped clothes.  By the odor still wafting about him, I assumed perhaps they got into a fight while intoxicated.

"Can't you go to the clinic and get that looked after?" We were standing 10 feet from a Walk in clinic.   "There's also an emergency just around the corner" pointing in the direction of the hospital I was just leaving.

"No - I don't want to go to Emergency.....and the Clinic already told me they wouldn't take me."

I was thinking they probably would, more than likely he just felt uncomfortable going to either place.   I couldn't imagine that the clinic would refuse him.  First Nations are a part of the federally funded health care  - and definitely, he would be covered.  I could understand, though, why he would be reluctant to show up at either place looking like he did.  Gary** was usually fairly meticulous about his clothes.

I went into the drugstore next to the Walk In Clinic and bought some first aid supplies.  I showed him how he should clean the wound and how to put the bandages on.   I helped him apply the steristrips and  and then handed him the bag of supplies.   He promised me that he would take care of it every day.   "Don't let me catch you with an infected elbow" I warned him.

Then,  he just - disappeared.   I watched for him every day.   Then, as suddenly as he disappeared - a year later - he showed up in the same spot on his street corner just as if he had never left. 

"Gary! I missed you! Where did you go?? I was worried - where were you all this time?!"

"Oh...well....I had to go up to Bella Coola for a court appearance and they put me in lockup for a year."

"Geez, Gary.....stay out of trouble will ya?"

He smiled his usual big smile.  " I sure will. Thanks! Have a nice day!"

Quite the contrast from the MD that I worked with that was also First Nations.  Articulate and talented, not only was this MD was just finishing his Family Practice Specialty......but he was also a well known actor.   He was telling me that patients would recognise him all the time...which could be a little bit difficult at times.  He was on the shy side and quite reserved. 


My husband is part Native American - Apache/Comanche - and part Hispanic.  If anyone understands the struggles facing the Indigenous of America - he does.   Having struggled growing up in poverty and then facing prejudice throughout his life,  my husband is my hero.  Not only has he overcome the tribulations of his former life, but he has in fact achieved more than what he ever dreamed of.... surpassed it.

There was a feature on a TV program here in Canada of this young lady.....First Nations and a foster child for the first part of her childhood until a family took her in at age 6.  She has now graduated from Lakehead University -a first Nations University - and has her Bachelor of Education degree/Royal Conservatory Teacher Certification and presently teaches music and Ojibaway between gigs.

I often wonder at the paths people choose to get them to their particular destination in life. Or is it entirely their choice.....?





**Gary: not his real name

Accidental Nursing: Baby Rescue

This is the last in the series of "Accidental Nursing" in the community....originally posted on May 24th this year.   I am sure there have been other "incidents",  however, these are the three that  happened within recent memory - and therefore, remember best.   It goes to show that our Nursing skills can and are used outside of the hospital situation.   Here is my third and last "Accidental Nurse" story:

Speaking of Administering First Aid in the Community I had another "opportunity" last summer.

As you know, I have a different type of Nursing job - now doing office type work.  The "particulars" are hush-hush for now, until I retire. 

I was in the midst of a case assessment when I heard a desperate banging on my door.

I don't answer the door at the best of times, never mind while I am working.  No one ever comes knocking unless I am forewarned. Not that I mind....it's just that we are fairly new in this community and when a friend wants to come and visit, they make sure we are home and I'm not working  before bothering to drive all the way out here. So, usually the knocks on the door are someone trying to sell something or present their religious point of view.  Either way, I can't be bothered.  Except for the Girl Guide Cookie Girls (yes, they are called "Girl Guides" here in Canada - not "Scouts").  Fifty years ago I used to sell those cookies....and I am a sucker to buy a box full every time.

This was an unusually urgent knock. A knock like someone is in trouble. I had recently had one similar at five in the am  and it turned out to be a local jogger who found a little old lady with Alzheimers roaming the street.....so I could tell the difference between the sales type knock and the "Hey-I-am-Dying" type knock.

I poked my head out the door and looked up and down the street looking for.... whomever.  No one.   Then - out popped a head from the house next door. Desperation in her voice. A wave to come. "Please, come - my baby - choking....please" Very broken english.

 I sprinted next door, the mom guiding me - hysterically - into their living room. On the way, I tried to ask questions. Did you see what she was choking on? Did you see what happened? Does she have a fever? Medical problems? Have you called 911?

The poor girl had no clue what to do. She hadn't even known enough to call 911. From what I could figure out - she had been trying to phone her husband at work. The only other thing she knew - a nurse lived next door.

There on the floor - face up - was the 10 month old girl, limp, pale and greyish blue around the lips, no signs of breathing. No choking sounds. Just a limp rag-doll of a little body. I picked her up, flipped her over, straddled her on my arm supporting her head and gave back blows per protocol - working on the assumption that this little one was actually choking, as mom said.

"Call 911!" - I directed the mom again.

I could feel a strong heartbeat in the heel of my hand, so I knew she was still ok that way. I flipped her back over to see if there was anything dislodged. Now, I know you don't do finger sweeps at this point unless you can actually see something, but when I flipped her back, something in my mind clicked..... and I tried to pry her mouth open with my little finger to check...... Her mouth was clamped shut.

"She isn't choking - She's having a seizure"  I thought. I flipped her back to tummy down.

Looked over at mom - still clutching the phone - but not calling 911. Baby was slowly breathing now - spontaneous - color improving - as soon as I flipped over......it had been an obstructed airway, but only because of her tongue when lying on her back. Thank goodness - no rescue breathing required this time. I grabbed the phone from mom - punched in 911.

Dispatcher:  911 - what service do you require- ambulance, fire or police?

Me:   I need an ambulance please, I have an 10 month old - mom says is choking. I found her not breathing - Has a heartbeat - now is breathing slowly. Could have been a seizure.

Now I know that the address of whomever is calling comes up on the dispatch screen and they already have probably sent an ambulance - but they still need to double check.

Dispatcher: What is your address and phone number?

Ok. I know MY address, but not the neighbor's. AND - I don't know the neighbor's phone number seeing as how we never call them. If I need to talk to them, I do it over the fence or knock on their door, neither of which happens often.  I do have it on a neighborhood list - but that is in a drawer at my house....

Me: Let me give the phone to the mom.

Dispatcher: Wait...wait....no..........!!

Mom takes the phone, gives the address and phone number best she can, in broken english - then hands the phone back to me unable to speak enough english to describe what is going on.

The Dispacher on the other end berates me. Don't go passing the phone back and forth - I can't deal with that.

Sorry, I tell him. Mom is Korean, doesn't speak english, didn't know to call 911 so I had to do that for her while dealing with the baby....but then I don't know her address and phone....I am a Nurse and just happened to be home and she knocked on my door. I am actually supposed to be working right now.

Oh, yeah ok.....hey thanks...different attitude....and small friendly chat ensues. Here my brain cuts out....Gee, I should really get back to work.....they are going to wonder what happened to me at the office....

5 minutes after initiating the 911 call - the ambulance arrives.

I hand off the baby, who is now breathing evenly with fairly good color - as long as she is kept face down - but has that post-ictal sleepiness. Give a quick report -  in which the ambulance crew isn't really interested - and I walk out the door.

I am back to my paperwork and assessments and  the "interruption" was only 10 minutes, start to finish. I call my supervisor.....Ummm....hey Mo...just in case you were wondering where I was, trying to get a hold of me.....this is what happened......

Gave the whole story.

My supervisor : Wow. great job.  Nursing while Nursing.....

The whole episode lasted only 10 minutes and best of all, I didn't have to chart anything.

Epilogue:  Later that night the parents came over with baby and thanked me. She still had a IV lock in place for anticonvulsants. I advised mom to take the pediatric resusitation course and she did......the baby had 2 more seizures within the year, etiology unknown.  I didn't get any more calls.

Posted by Cartoon Characters at 1:00 PM

Accidental Nurse: Near Drowning

On May 22, I posted this story while visiting/helping out my mother while she recovered from her  hip replacement.  The story tells of how I did some "Accidental Nursing" on the Island of Antigua. I will allow my narrative tell the story:

While at my folks' place I had a visit from my Aunt Phyllis** who lives nearby. My dad hates it when she visits because she is generally LOUD and obnoxious and high jacks any conversation - invited or not.

You've met the type.

 She also has a memory like an elephant and remembers everything - and I mean everything -  in minute detail - and will make sure she imparts each to you.

But - she is my dad's sister-in-law so he has to put up with it, albeit grudgingly. I don't mind her so much, but usually after the first 5 minutes dad toodles off into another room until the visit is over. Whenever I am in town, she feels she has to make the pilgrimage to say hello.

Why?

Well, funny you should ask.



Similar catamaran

 I went to Antigua a year and half ago to celebrate my cousin's (Phyllis' daughter) wedding.

It was a beautiful ceremony, and to thank the 13 people that took the time, effort and expense to attend, she and her new husband decided to charter a huge catamaran.

One hour into the day long trip we stopped near a coral reef to snorkel. My husband and I had brought along our own equipment, and looking at the ancient-looking stuff that was provided by the company - we were glad we did. Ours had the stopcocks so water wouldn't splash into our snorkels, and with the surface of the water slightly on the choppy side, that was a good thing.

Everyone grabbed their gear and jumped overboard once the required life preservers were belted on. Last minute, I decided against going. Really, I don't know why. I was geared up, ready to go.

I loved snorkeling and was looking forward to it. Yes, the water was a little rough, but I was a pretty good swimmer .... and it didn't look that bad. Still, something stopped me. My husband handed me his wedding ring and I slipped it on my thumb for safekeeping.

I hung over the bow and watched the little group swim away with Our Captain to the reef beyond.  I wasn't paying attention to my aunt who was in the process of getting her life belt on, didn't notice she only put on one - which sat on her back like a tiny little fanny pack - and I didn't notice as she climbed down the rickety narrow ladder that was the only way in and out of the boat. I did note that there was no platform near the surface of the water on this catamaran.

Approximate size of Dolores

Tired of watching the little bobbing heads off in the distance, I turned back to the cabin of the boat, looking forward to a little R&R .....when I glanced over to where my aunt had swum.

Everyone had told Phyllis to stay by the boat. She couldn't swim very well - if at all.  

The day before I had saved her from near drowning - and I have proof by the way.   My husband had been on the beach snapping photos as I floated around on my air mattress with the group and, unbeknownst to him, he caught the whole sequence - one frame at a time:

Big wave.
Me - surprised look....
Phyllis - going down....
Me- jumping up....
Phyllis - wiping the water out of her eyes with two of us at her elbows, holding her up.  

One of the many big waves knocked her off balance -  she lost her footing and then couldn't get up - because of her proportions.

Phyllis weighs at least 350lbs, and I am being VERY conservative.

Approximately 100 feet from the port side I could see Phyllis flapping her hands slightly on the surface and trying to lift her head out of the water.

Something wasn't right.

That uneasy feeling was confirmed when after a second or two I could no longer see any movement from her and she was laying like a starfish on the surface. 

A little aside note here - those tv shows that show drowning people thrashing about?? Let me tell you - they don't.  Usually they die very quietly, unnoticed.

 I screamed to the Assistant Captain (AC) in charge of the boat -  pointing - "She's drowning~~!!!!!"

I knew I wasn't a strong or fast enough swimmer to tow her back to the boat. A buoy on a rope was thrown out but of course, she was no longer aware enough to grab it.

The AC dove into the now increasingly choppy water and swam out to Phyllis and hauled her in with much difficulty - face down - the entire way.

Two of us tried to pull her the 8 or 9 feet up to the deck from the water's surface while her son-in-law tried to push her up. Limp. Dead weight. Literally.

Unfortunately for Phyllis, she had lathered herself with sunscreen lotion prior to her foray into the water. Slippery as hell. I could see that her lips were blue, her complexion, grey.

At this point Phyllis had not taken one breath since I saw her last hand motion on the surface. We grabbed the only thing that didn't slip out of our hands - her bathing suit straps and pulled.

I would never have believed how stretchy and strong Sears bathing suits were. I swear - those straps increased in length by at least a good two feet so that the scoop of the neck was well above her head.

 "At least the waves can't splash into her face", I thought.

At this point my cousin swims up to the ladder.

 "Mom! Mom!  Oh I am so sorry - Mom!!!"

She looks straight into my eyes, pleading "Please - Someone - can you please help my Mom??!"

 I had to jump in.

Wasn't wanting to, but there it is.

At some point,  when all else fails, what choice does one have?   As I jumped, I could see my husbands wedding ring slip off my thumb -  tumble end over end slow motion -  and splash into the sea below me  just before I hit the surface.

"Shit",   I thought. "Could it get any worse?"

Problem is, when you have a 350 lb dead weight that is as slick as a bar of wet soap in the shower......what do you do?

There was very little working room - only ONE person could be on the ladder - and to lift that much weight out of the water and up onto the boat - well, the task was near impossible.

Adding to the mayhem was the fact that the people pushing up from below had no leverage in the deep water -  in addition to the lack of grip on the slick body from above.

In the middle of all this, I tried to buy some time and was able to attempt two rescue breaths. I pinched her earlobe to test for response.

HARD.

Nothing.

Not even a little bit of a wince. After that - the bathing suit scoop neckline was a good foot over head. "Just as well", I thought, "at least her daughter doesn't have to see her waxen/blue-grey face."

what I was visualizing...

Funny things that run through your mind at a time like this.

"Holy shit, how are we ever going get her back to shore if she drowns? Tie a rope around her and drag her back?"

At this point my imagination was running wild.

"And what will my cousin think .... bad enough her mother drowns on her wedding/honeymoon trip but even worse that she has to watch her being dragged by a rope behind the boat the HOUR it will take to get back to the dock if we can't lift her out of the water???

And -  should we go slow???  Or fast - and risk her bouncing along on the waves like a fish on a line?"

I was frantically waving at my husband to come back to the boat.

We would need everyone on board so we can rush Phyllis to shore.  Two ambulances were ready and waiting at two different docks - whichever one we could reach first.

An "ambulance zodiac" was also dispatched with a couple of paramedics aboard to meet us at the closest place possible - to board the boat and help with resuscitation - if it was going to be required. Oblivious to the drama going on, my husband waved back and went about his snorkeling.

While all this was going on, the AC had whistled for the Captain, a big burly good looking guy with rippling muscles and ebony skin. A powerhouse. He rounded up the group and everyone swam back, Captain way out in front.

In record time he leapt up onto the ladder and grabbed Phyllis and gave one giant yank.

I figured, at this point, we had one last chance to haul her up.

I was in the water - directly below Phyllis - her shadow blocking out the sun and casting a shadow almost bigger than the boat - as the Captain gave one. big. heave.

I was looking straight up at that big limp body.

Crap.

One slip and a ton of dead weight would drop right on my head and I would be dead in the water.

I winced, saying a prayer. One last desperate scramble by the men to hoist her up and over - and Phyllis was spilled onto the deck like a giant floppy octopus.

I scrambled up the ladder and quickly surveyed the situation.

I don't remember how they all got back up on the deck, but the rest of the snorkeling bunch were pressed against the far side of the boat, eyes like saucers.

No help there.

Kneeling down, I pushed on Phyllis' forehead with the palm of one hand, plugged the nose and lifted up her jaw with my left hand. My mouth sealed hers and I gave two puffs.

Nothing.

Two more puffs.

A little cough. The salty taste of blood and sea foam in my mouth.

Come on - breathe......!!!

Stertorous breathing.

Then. Phyllis' eyes fluttered.

Mumble.

"Phyllis! Phyllis!" I screamed into her ear. The pallor left her face but her lips were still a grayish shade.

"Take some deep breaths! Phyllis! Come on!!"   More stimulation.

Then.

Normal rate but Shallow ... breathing.....

I pulled up her one knee and dug my knee into her back to roll her on her side, our Hero Captain pulling on her arm.

The crowd, once frozen, suddenly sprang to life and they handed over rolled towels to prop, bath sheet to cover and water so I could rinse out my mouth.

That salty, bloody taste stayed with me the rest of the day, no matter how much I rinsed and brushed my teeth.

"Hey Phyllis!"  I couldn't resist. "Did ya see a tunnel and a bright light at the end of it????"

She opened one eye and looked at me. " No" she replied weakly. " Just a couple of fishies...."

The Zodiac EMS*** met us halfway back to the dock and we briefly stopped to let them on board. I was never so glad to see anyone in my life. It's amazing what 15L of O2 will do to bluish lips.


* * * *

Antigua hospital in St John's where Dolores stayed overnight

Phyllis spent the next 24 hrs in the local hospital while the rest of us went over the incident over and over again at the bar over a mess of pina coladas and margaritas.

I heard from my Cuz that all her mother could do was complain about the dirty restroom, the old dilapidated facility and how awful and hot it was with no air conditioning.

Geez. You would think she would be grateful just to be breathing.   But - At least she was talking.

I never thought I would ever be happy to hear her say anything.

All the excitement I really wanted...

The next day - against my advice and everyone else's- the first thing Phyllis did when released from the hospital was to go "swimming".

Yup.

She was nearly knocked over by the waves again.

I couldn't stay to watch. My husband and I washed our hands of her. She was on her own. We avoided her the rest of the trip.

 I really don't think she realized how close she came to dying - because if she did, she would have never gone back in that water.

I swear, her apneic episode from start to finish was at least 15 minutes.

Fifteen minutes and not one breath.

Certainly she had no pain reflexes whatsoever. Yet, it seems, that not one brain cell was affected.

Me? I am just glad that we didn't have to haul her back behind the boat like some prize fish.

Unfortunately, what comes with "the rescue" is suffering the long visits that she feels she has to make every time I come home.

*sigh*


**Not her real name to save her from embarrassment
***Emergency Medical Services


Posted by A NURSE at 6:06 PM
4 comments rescued:


nurseXY said...
Holy crap!!

:O
May 23, 2010 8:10 PM

A NURSE said...
Funny thing NXY...that's exactly what I said..... =^@
May 23, 2010 11:00 PM

Albinoblackbear said...
That is a giant HOLY CRAP.

And the reason I pack a barrier device with me everywhere I go!

I don't want to aspirate on someone else's aspirate. :P

Nice work!!!
May 24, 2010 12:14 PM

A NURSE said...
Thanks ABB! :)

I should be smart about carrying a barrier device...even tho I pretty well am sure of her hx....ya just never know what evil lurks....

Should I say, "I remember the days when...?".......we didn't have any devices even within the hospital? :^P
(some of my earlier blogs cover that... !)
May 24, 2010 12:52 PM

Snakes on A Plane!

Here is another Revamp from May 25th.   Sometimes as Nurses we get to "assist" people outside our workplace.
I wanted to adjust the posting to delete references to what I do now, since I am "laying low" - trying to stay below the radar.  So here you are, one of the stories that I get to tell about being a nurse in the community....."accidental Nurse".  I have several of these stories, so I will start with this one....my third. I will be posting 3 true "accidental Nurse" stories in a row for your amusement.

And sometimes when you are on a plane...SNAKES!

our plane, not the fated Alaskan flight......

OK. I've been blogging about my experiences with Non-Hospital Medical Emergencies so I may as well keep going.

I am sure you have heard about Emergency Calls on flights - you know - those overhead pages that call for any medical personnel - A Doctor - or if no certified MD - A Nurse......and wonder if you would ever get caught?............well. Let me tell you about my experience.

Five years ago my husband and I planned our Wedding. We decided that Mexico was the place to go for our nuptials along with 8 other family members. My husband and I had chosen our seats and made sure that we got the best ones for his viewing pleasure.....and reserved ahead of time to ensure we were sitting together. After all....it was our Honeymoon/Wedding trip.  This was going to be something special.

It is a four and a half hour flight from our departure city to destination. Two hours into the flight - there was That Dreaded Call.

"If there is any Doctor or Nurse in the cabin, Could you please make the flight attendants aware by putting on your call light....thank you."

My husband looked at me. I frown at him and shake my head. Nope. Not gonna do it. Usually there are plenty of Medical Mavericks in the crowd just waiting to do their duty.....I didn't want to get involved. Maybe some other time. But just not this time. Sounds terrible - but really....thirty years into my career, and needing a well deserved rest and finally getting married after 50 years of singleness....I really wanted to pass on it.

Anyway, I am the type to avoid any accident. Even "rubbernecking" past accidents aren't my thing.   My friend Jan actually stops for every single one. She says she doesn't but I don't believe her. Just recently she had to do resus on an MD that was in an accident.  The MD didn't survive....and that is my biggest fear in the situations I run across.

Personally, I think we as nurses/doctors are magnets for stuff like this.  Maybe we are dispersed among the population"just enough" so that when people do something stupid, there is someone nearby that can help them out of their situation.   Maybe our guardian angels play games like drawing straws - a roulette of sorts. The short straw is when we end up being *the one* at the scene of whatever disaster is happening. 

So, a few minutes later, when the announcement came on again, a little more pleading.....guilt got the best of me and I put my bell on. Shit. So much for careful planning.

Secretly, I was hoping and praying someone was in labor. That would be a great one to have. Easy Peasy. Nothing like a mandatory natural birth, just the way we like to do it.....

Nope. No such luck. It was a "cardiac" problem. Chest pain, SOB....... crap. Interestingly enough, there was another RN that answered the call. We compared notes. She was also L&D but she really hadn't worked for a while and also never did cardiac. Ever. So, I was the "short straw" this time. Lucky her - she sashayed back to her seat - leaving me - holding the old bag, so to speak.

I had done some float/telemetry nursing eons back and we did have some cardiac with the high risk L&D unit I worked on.  It was the Triage work that came in handy this time around.

Personally, if I had chest pain out in public - 911 would be a more appropriate call to make -but - on a plane 911 is not an option, and I guess they take what they can get.

Anyway, this lady had a previous history of chest pains but had been recently been ruled out re: any cardiac problems. Now, I know this doesn't really mean much sometimes but at least it was a hope to grasp onto at this point. Meds? Have you ever used nitro? Nausea? Does the pain go anywhere else? Your back?What kind of pain? On a scale of 1 to 10 ?Are you feeling light headed? Dizzy? Is it getting worse? Any worse when you deep breathe or cough or move?Any swelling in your calf - or anywhere in one leg? Have you coughed up blood? BP - check, Pulse - check, chest auscultation - check, diaphoresis - some, palpate chest, assess color ......blah blah blah...the entire history and assessment done in approximately 5 minutes.

She already had O2 on by the time I got to her. I thought of asking for an asa tab for her to chew but thought maybe I had better check with the Docs On the Ground to see what they would prefer since it didn't seem cardiac. Wasn't really sure what the protocols were at 3,000 feet in the air.

The attendants brought the cabin to ground headset and gave me quick instructions on it's use. Got a connection and rattled off the whole assessment in one big breath.

Wow...said the Person on the Ground. Great assessment .......

Me, thinking: Come on guys....lets get going......I have a vacation to get back to.....

crash and burn....story of my life....

Person on the Ground: Give her an asa...yup, thought so.....monitor her for the rest of the flight and we will meet the plane on arrival in Mexico.

What????

At that moment I was wishing that only healthy people were allowed to fly. I stood and stretched, took a look at my husband, alone, sitting in his comfortable first class seat waaaay up at the front - and I waved at him. He smiled and waved back- proud of his nurse wife.    How sweet.   I shrugged at him to let him to let him know how soon I could get back to him - and our wonderful honeymoon vacation.

The attendant: Do you mind sitting next to the patient and monitoring her until we land?

Me: Well...uh ..this is my Wedding/Honeymoon trip.....and my husband is up there.....pointing to my waving husband..........I wanted to make it obvious.

The attendant: Here, ignoring my comment and clearing out the seat next to the lady. Sit here....

So much for the rest of my trip, and my first class seat.  I was denied any alcohol, snacks, my good book, the movie, my personal effects, my husband-to-be and any other comforts I had in my carry on......to watch this woman. I suppose I could have declined, but how would that make me look.....as a nurse???  I shouldn't have worried about that - because when we landed, the plane was cleared and the Medics came aboard. I was basically brushed to the side like a piece of used toilet paper on the bottom of a shoe.

Don't get me wrong......I don't mind being helpful and I didn't expect a free flight out of it. But when I am left at a disadvantage for doing a favor for the airline ESPECIALLY on my honeymoon/wedding trip - and especially when bumped to the back of the bus....I would really appreciate - if nothing else- a THANK YOU. And - would it have killed them to maybe throw in a bottle of wine for our inconvenience?  Or a smile on my way out at the very least?

They made me write down my name and my address on the Medical Notes form next to all the documentation I did, so I know they had all the info they needed to send a simple letter of appreciation - if they wanted. I kept waiting to hear something. But...............

Nothing. Nada. Zip. Thank YOU Alaska Air for ruining my nice flight down.
We haven't travelled on that Airline since.

And next time I hear that overhead page.......it's someone else's turn to pull the short straw.

Or, if I do....I want it to be in a drink with an umbrella......

ahhhhhhhhh....!

Posted by Cartoon Characters at 12:40 AM 7 comments   preserved!

May 26, 2010 7:27 PM  

nurseXY said...

Huh, the flight I ever took was on Alaska Airlines.

Mmmm, warm cookies.

Thanks for taking the short straw!

May 26, 2010 8:42 PM  

AtYourCervix said...

I'm grateful that nothing like that has happened on the (many!) flights I've taken. Although, to be honest, I wouldn't mind helping out fellow man. But it would be easier if it was just a baby being born. Cardiac stuff? Yeah, ok, sure......ground control? Come in ground control!

May 28, 2010 7:00 AM  

A Nurse said...

Yes, I agree, don't mind helping out fellow man, but this woman was quite disagreeable....so on a supposed honeymoon trip plus days off....didn't make for a very pleasant time...then to have the staff abandon me...and not even allowing my husband moved...not that he wanted to - as he was perfectly happy up front...... I have to admit - it didn't ruin my whole vacation ;) - but it makes for a good story, and that's what blogging is all about, right? :)

May 28, 2010 8:02 AM  

A Nurse said...

Random thought: I wonder why birth of a baby rates so much higher than cardiac, when birthing is usually an easier thing to do (at least for me!) You always see people interviewed after a baby is born on a plane, not so much cardiac problems unless you are a celebrity.
Since youcan't fly if you are getting close to the due date...most babes born will be premie...but if they are over 32 wks...I would be ok with that...oh - and a female because they do so much better statistically speaking than males....

Nurse  XY: your turn next time! :)

May 28, 2010 8:08 AM  

nurseXY said...

haha, and btw, that would be, "the BEST flight I ever took"...

May 28, 2010 5:32 PM  

A Nurse said...

ya, ask for alcohol to "sanitize" yourself.... ;) and make sure u repeat q1h.........hahaha!!

May 28, 2010 8:59 PM