Quiet Dignity…and more lists

I was looking through my notebook where I keep my patient’s interview information for more random musings. I have a lot of random musings it seems. Here they are, in no particular order. This is, it seems, what I’m thinking while running around pretending to doctor folks up.Admittedly, the ones I post today may have a morbid feel. I just sat in on another end of life care conversation with a family who was clearly not expecting the news. Yesterday I sat in the charting room trying not to cry about one of my patients who is 92, spunky, and has absolutely no idea what is going on. She seems fine, her family seems to be managing, and I’m the one sitting in the office crying. I held her over the bedpan when she gave us a urine sample, I had the idea to check since that was the one thing I could do to help. I was counting on a nurse to actually lift her to a wheelchair to cart to the restroom to take off her clothes to sit her down, to wipe her up and all. But her daughter and I did it instead. And it wasn’t that bad really. I pulled up the panties of a woman I have seen twice in my life. I held her. I pushed her along. And we had a ball of it, there was laughing and awkwardness and I didnt pull her panties up all the way to above her navel which she was unhappy about. She scowled at me, but she had no care in the world about being half dressed and being taken care of. There was a quiet dignity in that. You think, well when my children are wiping me up then it’s clearly time to go’. But family taking care of you, loving you, healing you; there can still be dignity in Depends then. In honor of all my patients whose dignity has been lost in the series of tubes we’re putting in or pulling out of them, for every man whose butt has been penetrated by my finger, for every woman who jumped off the table as cold metal hit her cervix; this is to you!

July 17th

I had no idea there was a 50% survival rate at 2 yrs. I didn’t tell her/them. We weren’t pushing, trying to figure out why she kept coming back and I didn’t understand until they told me. We just did a procedure- the same one that hasn’t worked in the past, and we sent them home. We’re supposed to be the good guys.

I’m turning in her write-up a week late- no biggie- I’m not responsible, I’m not accountable. I worry that I should’ve spoken up, said something- not presumed my own ignorance. My silence has not protected me or any one else. I’m sorry Ms. J.W.; it seems we’ve lost you.

It’s just freaking aggrivating because all of this was preventable. We got there too late. Too many hard nights and pained mornings. Blurred eyes and slurred words. She stumbled awake 17 years ago. I am so proud of her sobriety, her desire to stop smoking, her recent control of her diabetes. But it’s too late. The salvation that can be bought from humans has an expiration date. There’s just too much to fix and it’s too expensive to fix it and we don’t have any time to fix it anyway. Which reminds me, I need to fill out an organ donor form. http://www.donatelife.net/

I’d save more lives however, by discovering why America is so desperately seeking oblivion. And this desperation spans age, race, religion, economic status, gender, and sex. We are seeking to forget, to check out, to be the opposite of present, to Get Out! Why? Can that be fixed? I want to prozac it all away but I suspect, just maybe, the solution will be more involved than that.

So my list (which I admit I’ve been neglecting) is dedicated to all the things that make us want to fly and all the things that keep me atleast, grounded. Feel free to try, sing, pray, eat, and dance along. Move, Choose




The List:

Skyping to my friends: oh how I miss my scarlet triangle!

Cooking new and complicated things: Bourbon Pineapple upside down cake is next!

Eating new but not so complicated things: I’m currently stuck on Pho (oh it’s so good and warm and filling and in a really big bowl!)

Writing, or reading, and not just the good stuff either. I write a whole lot of rants about nothing. I read a whole lot of historical romance chauvinistic trash and I love it!

Dancing in my car, singing in my car: doing both of the above with my windows rolled up tight in the parking lot of my job in the middle of the day- just because I felt like it.

Exercise: I’m on a walking/ellipticalling tip currently. I maintain that the elliptical is for punks who are scared of the treadmill- I am firmly entrenched in that category.

Yoga: man there was a living social special for 25$ for 15 yoga classes in Raleigh-Durham last week- that’s like saving 200$ oh I’m so jeally I moved!!!

Abbreviations: hence the above jeally

Lists- because clearly this one hasn’t stopped…add on


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