After my rant about being tired and overworked yesterday, I did feel better. However, it also made me reflect on the past few weeks. In the midst of that reflection came a realization that there have been some pretty awesome moments, too. I'd feel like a used car salesman if I only told half of the story and didn't "rant" about the good stuff, too.
On my only night that I didn't get called in for a new admission, I came in for a different reason. One of our patients had a sudden change status. It was so unexpected that I didn't even check my bed hair in the mirror before heading out the door at 2am. His blood pressure and heart rate were off the charts. He had a fever literally radiating off his skin. And when we were able to wake him up we almost wished we hadn't with his swinging arms and kicking legs. Immediately, we started testing and treating for all of the bad things this could be. (After all, there aren't too many good things this could have been.) Within a few long hours and a few wrong hypotheses, we had our answer. Thankfully, we hadn't waited those few long hours to begin treatments, because otherwise, as my boss put it later that week, "we would have diagnosed it on autopsy." He also told me, "The decisions you made that night saved his life." Catch that - Saved His Life. Awesome.
Recently, I've been seeing a patient who is in complete denial about the terminal part of his diagnosis. (And maybe that's not an all bad way to live the short life you have left. After all, no one really can say I have any more days than he does and sometimes I live in denial of that.) I've decided to just let it be. I'm learning that it's not my job to beat it into his head until he cries. He knows. Now I'm just trying to make him feel a little better each day. Today was a good day. "You're the best, Doc" he called out as I left the room this morning. Rewarding.
A hug from a patient or a family member is always lovely. The hug I got a little while ago was even more so. She hugged me out of genuine thanks and gratitude for making the long phone calls that made it able for her to get on a plane from Afghanistan to Omaha in order to be with her dad in his last few days. The pride, peace, and joy in his eyes brought tears to mine. Unforgettable.
Lastly, a patient was sitting in her chair as we came in for morning rounds. A tube was coming out of her nose, IV's connected her arms to poles, and the few hairs left on her head were laying every which way. She scanned the crowd of seven-or-so of us as if trying to figure out who we were. Then her eyes landed on me. They brightened. "Dr. Newman. You're the faithful one." Turning to my boss she said, "She's here everyday." Ahhh... appreciated.
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