Musings by The Poet Loriet
Thirty Minutes In The Day of a Nurse
I hang up the phone reciever...
four new breast cancer patients
and three cervical cancers...
talked to and reassured them all...
Sometimes I hate this job!
The doctor motions for me
to join him in exam room three.
High grade squamous intraepithelial lesion;
that's what the pathology report says.
"She" is also a nurse, our patient.
She understands the implications
and displays a stoic, deadpan attitude
as he tells her,
"We need to be agressive.
We'll go ahead and do a procedure today
to remove all of the bad cells."
She reminds me of myself so much...
quiet, smiling, accepting.
That's just how nurses are.
I catch her eye and smile reassuringly.
"This adhesive patch on your leg
just prevents doc from
getting electrocuted
when we turn on the cutting/ cautery
machine to perform the surgery...
just a grounding pad, okay?"
She nods,
but fear is starting to reach her eyes.
I've seen fear too often...I'm not fooled.
I hold her hand in mine...
"Squeeze if you need to. I'm right here.
Just some local...you'll feel a pinch, darling."
Sometimes a touch
transcends all words in the human language.
"Don't worry, honey, you'll be nice and numb.
We'll explain everything to you..."
I slip under the doctor's arm
to hook up the vacuum hose,
the one that sucks away the smoke
made by burning flesh...
I choke back the threatening wave
of nausea that I always feel at this point.
The doctor gets out the "big tweezers"
as I hold open the specimen jar for him.
It seems surreal to see a cervix in a jar.
I try to see it, the "cancer", but I can't...
I merely see blood and tissue.
I stare at it for a moment,
then quickly set the jar out of sight
and assist the doctor to control the bleeding,
handing him things, anticipating his needs.
This is the point where I unknowingly
hold my breath, remembering close calls,
brushes with altered states of consciousness,
lowered or absent blood pressures,
pale faces, faces of greenish hues,
beads of sweat, bodies going limp
as we fight to stop the bleeding...
Thank God! This time, it's over quickly!
Our patient breaks her fast of silence,
suddenly wanting to chat
about everything and nothing all at once,
relief plainly evident on her face.
Just another day at work~
saving lives.
Lori Beal
four new breast cancer patients
and three cervical cancers...
talked to and reassured them all...
Sometimes I hate this job!
The doctor motions for me
to join him in exam room three.
High grade squamous intraepithelial lesion;
that's what the pathology report says.
"She" is also a nurse, our patient.
She understands the implications
and displays a stoic, deadpan attitude
as he tells her,
"We need to be agressive.
We'll go ahead and do a procedure today
to remove all of the bad cells."
She reminds me of myself so much...
quiet, smiling, accepting.
That's just how nurses are.
I catch her eye and smile reassuringly.
"This adhesive patch on your leg
just prevents doc from
getting electrocuted
when we turn on the cutting/ cautery
machine to perform the surgery...
just a grounding pad, okay?"
She nods,
but fear is starting to reach her eyes.
I've seen fear too often...I'm not fooled.
I hold her hand in mine...
"Squeeze if you need to. I'm right here.
Just some local...you'll feel a pinch, darling."
Sometimes a touch
transcends all words in the human language.
"Don't worry, honey, you'll be nice and numb.
We'll explain everything to you..."
I slip under the doctor's arm
to hook up the vacuum hose,
the one that sucks away the smoke
made by burning flesh...
I choke back the threatening wave
of nausea that I always feel at this point.
The doctor gets out the "big tweezers"
as I hold open the specimen jar for him.
It seems surreal to see a cervix in a jar.
I try to see it, the "cancer", but I can't...
I merely see blood and tissue.
I stare at it for a moment,
then quickly set the jar out of sight
and assist the doctor to control the bleeding,
handing him things, anticipating his needs.
This is the point where I unknowingly
hold my breath, remembering close calls,
brushes with altered states of consciousness,
lowered or absent blood pressures,
pale faces, faces of greenish hues,
beads of sweat, bodies going limp
as we fight to stop the bleeding...
Thank God! This time, it's over quickly!
Our patient breaks her fast of silence,
suddenly wanting to chat
about everything and nothing all at once,
relief plainly evident on her face.
Just another day at work~
saving lives.
Lori Beal
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Thirty Minutes In The Day of a Nurse
Thirty Minutes In The Day of a Nurse
