A Tale of Innovative Nursing: Making It All a Little Less Scary
by CheesePotato | 9,441 Views | 25 Comments
On days where there happens to be no trauma, I am released into the wild to work with various other teams. And on this day, I was placed in the pediatric ENT line with a lovely nurse named Myra who is a mother of three beautiful, delightful children and is as soft spoken and withdrawn as you please. So the two of us set out to pick up our second patient of the day which happens to be the perkiest four year old you have ever met.
- 33 Published Dec 7, '12
So it is no secret that surgery is scary to many people. But children, in particular, have a difficult time of it for, well, obvious reasons.
Now, let's make three things abundantly clear:
1. I specialize in Trauma. Not ENT. Nope. They keep me away from children (unless they are severely hurt) for a very good reason.
2. I am not a mother. Never will be. Children remain a mystery.
3. I have been told I do a mean Godzilla impression. Some people crochet as a hobby, I stomp around my house, scream blue hell and pretend to ransack Tokyo. Don't judge me.
These are facts.
But on days where there happens to be no trauma, I am released into the wild to work with various other teams. And on this day, I was placed in the pediatric ENT line with a lovely nurse named Myra who is a mother of three beautiful, delightful children and is as soft spoken and withdrawn as you please. So the two of us set out to pick up our second patient of the day which happens to be the perkiest four year old you have ever met.
I'm talking like something tumbled out of a Gerber advert. Cherub cheeks, cupid bow mouth, nymphic face, the works. Just a little heartbreaker. And this little tyke takes one look at us and just shuts down. The tears, the trembling, the clinging. Poor kid. You know that to him we look like product of Smurfs breeding with the Stay Puff Marshmallow man.
One more fact: I am useless with kids. Seriously. It's miserable.
But Myra....Myra is brilliant. Without missing a beat she crouches down to this kidlet's level and starts talking in that gentle way of hers, letting him touch her gloved hands and grab at her bouffant. Within minutes the whimpers are bubbling, bright giggles and the parents look relieved. So when it's time to go, I'm expecting her to scoop lil' man up and carry him to the OR. But instead she takes his little hand and he trustingly toddles with her out of the ambulatory bay until they reach the double doors and he suddenly realizes this...this isn't fun. She pauses for just a moment. (I'm telling you, this woman is amazing.)
"Do you like dinosaurs?" A gleeful nod tousles his feather light blonde hair. "Which is your favorite?"
"Tymanosaurus." Myra doesn't miss a beat as she points at me.
"See my friend there?" Another ridiculously adorable nod.
"She's a dinosaur." At this, I stand there slightly affronted at the accusation all the while doing an admirable impersonation of an inbred goldfish. Mouth agape. Eyes boggled.
But our tiny tyke, he lets out a gasp of excitement and wonder, eyeing me uncertainly and nibbling on his fist. He giggles and shakes his head before flashing me a smile which I manage to haphazardly return. I'm sure it looked more like a confused grimace. The parents are watching us closely and I'm about to crawl out of my skin with my own awkwardness.
She gestures to the button which will open the door to the OR.
"Oh yes she is. Now when I say go, we're going to hurry away before she can gobble us up."
My eyebrow is now hidden in my hairline it's arched so high. At this point she looks over at me and gives me a smirk which pure mischief. "Aren't you, Godzilla?"
Ah. So that's where this was headed.
She puts her hand on the button.
"Ready......steady......GO!" She presses the button and I...well....to this day I'm not quite sure what I was thinking...I blame the hospital coffee....but I crouched and stomped my feet menacingly, tucking my stumpy arms tight to my sides and wheedling my two fingered claws in the air as I loose a (very dialed back, but I like to think all business) Godzilla bellow.
And beneath that beastly scream echoed his delighted, shrieking laughter as he clung to Myra's hand and scampered with her through the double doors and around the corner towards the suite.
Well at this point, I have a job to do, so with a nod of acknowledgement to the parents, I stomp and snicker-snap my way around the corner and after that scurrying cherub. By the time I reached the suite, Myra had him bundled onto the OR table, covered with a blanket and huddled with her and the CRNA to help him "hide" using a magic mask to escape. He drifted away towards SEVO land with breathy giggles, slumped against Myra.
No fear. No tears.
P.S. This article is a post in reply to this thread: Amazing Nursing Stories on the General forum. Link is posted at the bottom of the rambling story. I work with some amazing people. I only wish I was half as clever as they are.Last edit by Joe V on Dec 8, '12
I don't pretend to understand myself 99% of the time. The other 1% I am merely faking it.
CheesePotato has 'Enough.' year(s) of experience and specializes in 'Sleep medicine,Floor nursing, OR, Trauma'. From 'Down the Rabbit Hole'; Joined Jan '12; Posts: 241; Likes: 2,315. You can follow CheesePotato on Google+ Twitter My Website