My defining moment as a nurse...
Despite thousands of hours as a nurse, one phone call at home changed everything for me forever. It's funny how poised we can be while working with patients, but when one of our own is the patient, it is a paralyzing fear that makes us unable to function. However, if taken in context, the lessons learned can change our nursing practice forever.
My most defining professional moment in my career came about not when I was with a patient, but when we were home with our newborn daughter.
The call came at 4:47pm on a Wednesday. We had brought our daughter home after an extremely uneventful birth. Our second child, she had come out the exact opposite of our son. Eyes open, awake, staring at us as if to say, "Yeah, I am here."
After three days we went home and began our second trip through exhaustion, night feedings, diaper changes, and everything else that goes into raising a baby. At 4:47pm it all came to a halt, and despite over a decade of critical care experience, I was for the first time paralyzed with fear.
"Your baby failed the heel stick, and may have Galactosemia. You'll receive a call from the Geneticist later today, but until then stop feeding your baby any milk products."
That was it.
As we waited for the geneticist to call, my professional brain kicked in. I remember the oddly humorous thought I had that why would the pediatrician call to say my daughter has a disease named after a video game?
I began researching Galactosemia. Liver failure. Sepsis. Death. Symptoms in the first few days of life (I missed the importance of this one, as it was week 8). Death. My child suddenly was dying, and I couldn't stop it.
It brought me back to so many conversations I have had with patient's families regarding death and dying. I used to almost brag about how much I liked, and how good I was at end of life discussions and care with families. At 4:47pm that changed.
The funny thing was, I completely missed that symptoms begin a few days after birth when the baby drinks milk, and yet my child had drunk milk for 8 weeks with no issues. How easy it is to miss cues, clues, and even blatant slaps in the face from information when we as nurses have been trained to sniff out these clues better than smoky the bear smells fire.
My child, after a year of doctor visits, blood work, and monitoring turned out to have a variant of Galactosemia that would not affect her life in anyway other than her husband would need to be tested before they have children. For a year, I assessed her sleeping, eating habits, drinking habits. I snuck into her room to watch her breathe. I coddled her, hugged her more than I had my son, and told her I loved her a million times. I paid more attention to her than I do my own patients.
And it changed me, and my professional practice as a nurse. No longer do I gloat about my end of life care. No longer do I complain when it's busy, complain when I am burdened, or have to stay late, or write an extra note, or bail out someone else's patient who needs ICU care. As a nurse practitioner, I save lives. I used to take it for granted. Now, it defines and fulfills me.Last edit by Joe V on Jan 13, '15
Oct 18, '13That was absolutely beautiful and inspiring.
Thank you for sharing.
I am so happy your daughter is doing well.
Oct 18, '13Well.....said.
I am happy for your daughter and send prayers/positive vibes for her future health.
It is these defining moments that define us as humans....but impact us as nurses. ((HUGS))Oct 18, '13I brought home my 15-hour-old newborn and put him in a basket next to my bed with the nasal aspirator and tried to get some sleep. I was asleep when I heard him choking on mucus and had the aspirator in my hand and his airway cleared before I was even awake. I said to myself, "ICU nurse, huh?" Glad I was a nurse that day.Oct 18, '13Dear Marty6001,
That was an absolutely heart-rending and poignant description of your personal travail. My heart goes out to a fellow-nurse. I will keep you and your princess in my prayers. Just reading your post has made me a better person. Take care, my friend.Oct 18, '13Could you please use bigger and bolder font? (I can't read this one from farther than 1/2 mile).Oct 18, '13marty6001 thank you for sharing your experience. such an uplifting story. i wish to have my own baby someday.Oct 20, '13Quote from VishwamitrYou're probably pulling her leg, right. In case not, her heart was very full, it spilled over into font choice. I'm glad she shared with us from her heart.Could you please use bigger and bolder font? (I can't read this one from farther than 1/2 mile).Oct 23, '13This is such a well written account that has true depth of feeling and heartfelt emotion. It really conveys how it feels to be in someone else's shoes and certainly sounds like a humbling experience--one that changed you in a profound way. Your daughter and patients reap the rewards of this experience. Thank you for sharing such an intimate period in your life that serves as a reminder to us all to not loose that perspective.Oct 26, '13I have now switched my font to 4 to make it easier to read. I honestly never knew that we could increase the size. Thanks for all the kind words. My wife and I are both nurses and we never really knew what it felt like to be on the other end of news. It was an eye-opening experience that has changed the way I practice as a nurse. Again, I appreciate all the comments, even the one to make my font bigger (turning 40 and heading towards reading glasses myself!!)