Many times you are alone, but often you have company. Family that grows that much more tired each time I see you, each day that goes by. Lifelong friends who hold your hand and laugh too loudly, afraid of the place, afraid of me, and smile that you look better before anxiously cornering me, asking with lowered voices about numbers and tests that they have just learned about.
They love you.
Do I love you? You either avert your eyes when I enter the room, or loudly welcome me. Pretend I’m not there as I go about my work, making me ask all my questions twice and more, or hang up the phone and hang on my every word. Often you do both in one day, one hour.
It’s hard to love you, sometimes. When you grimace in pain and say you cannot breathe, with no problems laughing, or eating, or speaking. When you say you cannot see and sway in my arms, only to perfectly season your food and snoop at my desk when my back is turned.
Today, “I can’t handle her,” another nurse said. “When all she does is try to convince me to give her narcotics, and next door she never asks me for anything, and she is, she is…”
“Dying,” I supply, with no exaggeration. You wear so many faces, have so many different moods and illnesses, it’s hard not to become worn, wary to believe. Sometimes you leave us never to return, and I don’t bat an eye. When I go home I’m angry, angry at life and all it does to you, and cry for the persons you were and are, and never more will be.
Sometimes you go cold on me. Slowly or quickly, my stomach sinks with the same speed. I can still see your son, hiding just out of sight at the doorway. “She gets excited, thinking I’m taking her home if she sees me.” I see your wife, waiting beside you, sharing her worries with me in the corridor. Your spouses love to tell me of the person you were, how strong, how important, as you sit shriveled, with eyes that break their hearts. Her legs are swelling, her heart weakening, yet she worries if she isn’t next to you, here, she doesn’t want you to be alone.
One day I’m sent to work on a different floor, and I get a call that I have family at the desk. It’s your wife, and she hugs me, she brought food for staff, she whispers in my ear, she was worried I wouldn’t get to eat. That’s love that I didn’t expect, that I don’t know if I’m comfortable with, or worthy of. All I do is my job.
I can’t forget the sound of your daughter’s wail, as she realizes what “resuscitation” really means. That sound comprises a life time of love, and it scares me. I had to turn, had to remind myself to breathe as I so often remind you, before exhaling and returning to you, the beloved. You died an hour later, and I mourned you for the sake of her love.
Today you were eighty, and I overheard you telling your friend that you heard music the night before. “It was so beautiful, the most wonderful music I had ever heard. Heaven really does have the most wonderful sounds.” And you closed your eyes, and sighed in wonder.
My friend’s dad, and his grandpa have been fighting for so long, and I won’t get into everything that’s happening because it’s not my place, but they’ve all been fighting together and fighting each other for years, and years. And it’s so hard, and people can be difficult and confusing and ornery but they’re also so incredibly precious, and it makes it harder. I’ve never truly known the dad or grandpa really well, but his other family members are like my own.. hearing stories about what they’re like, the lives they lived.. gah. Gah gah gah.
I hope they’ll party up in heaven.
Families are so hard. All we can do is pray these misunderstandings will be cleared up in heaven, where we can be without our selfish pride and bruised egos.
I’ve also spent months at a time as a visiting family member. I appreciated the nursing staff more than you’ll ever know. The patience of nurses and other staff is something to behold and the right nurse, a nurse like you, is a precious gift.
Haha ~ I forgot to include the disclaimer that I’m not the best nurse. But thank you, hospitals are hard places to be, when you are there for someone you love.
Having spent a fair amount of time as one of those visiting family members in the last few years, I hope you know just how much I appreciate the work you do. Not just the medical and physical labor, but also the emotional labor. I know you smile even when your feet and mind are screaming for relief. I know you put up with awful situations, patients, families, and other staff. I can’t know it all, and I won’t pretend to, but I hope you know that some of us see you and are thankful you are there, making the stay of our dad, mom, aunt, child, or friend more comfortable in the least comfortable of places.
This was lovely Coco, and I’ll remember these words the next time.
“That’s love that I didn’t expect, that I don’t know if I’m comfortable with, or worthy of. All I do is my job.”
You’re more than doing your job, and you’re more than worthy.
Nurses are really my favorite people in the world…I can’t imagine how exhausting (physically and emotionally) it must be to spend your days in such an environment, yet here you are, sharing your stories about a human, not a patient!
I’ve told you before and I’ll say it again, you’re the best kind of nurse!
And this is why nurses are the backbone of medicine and medicine is breaking our backs. This isn’t the forum (I have others on which to discuss this) but you are appreciated by all you car me for! Keep up the good fight. I’ll be cheering for you!
Cocoa, The Fake Poet of February
February 11, 2019 at 6:26 PM
Day 11 ~
Do you remember me?
Your faces run together, but yes, I remember you.
Many times you are alone, but often you have company. Family that grows that much more tired each time I see you, each day that goes by. Lifelong friends who hold your hand and laugh too loudly, afraid of the place, afraid of me, and smile that you look better before anxiously cornering me, asking with lowered voices about numbers and tests that they have just learned about.
They love you.
Do I love you? You either avert your eyes when I enter the room, or loudly welcome me. Pretend I’m not there as I go about my work, making me ask all my questions twice and more, or hang up the phone and hang on my every word. Often you do both in one day, one hour.
It’s hard to love you, sometimes. When you grimace in pain and say you cannot breathe, with no problems laughing, or eating, or speaking. When you say you cannot see and sway in my arms, only to perfectly season your food and snoop at my desk when my back is turned.
Today, “I can’t handle her,” another nurse said. “When all she does is try to convince me to give her narcotics, and next door she never asks me for anything, and she is, she is…”
“Dying,” I supply, with no exaggeration. You wear so many faces, have so many different moods and illnesses, it’s hard not to become worn, wary to believe. Sometimes you leave us never to return, and I don’t bat an eye. When I go home I’m angry, angry at life and all it does to you, and cry for the persons you were and are, and never more will be.
Sometimes you go cold on me. Slowly or quickly, my stomach sinks with the same speed. I can still see your son, hiding just out of sight at the doorway. “She gets excited, thinking I’m taking her home if she sees me.” I see your wife, waiting beside you, sharing her worries with me in the corridor. Your spouses love to tell me of the person you were, how strong, how important, as you sit shriveled, with eyes that break their hearts. Her legs are swelling, her heart weakening, yet she worries if she isn’t next to you, here, she doesn’t want you to be alone.
One day I’m sent to work on a different floor, and I get a call that I have family at the desk. It’s your wife, and she hugs me, she brought food for staff, she whispers in my ear, she was worried I wouldn’t get to eat. That’s love that I didn’t expect, that I don’t know if I’m comfortable with, or worthy of. All I do is my job.
I can’t forget the sound of your daughter’s wail, as she realizes what “resuscitation” really means. That sound comprises a life time of love, and it scares me. I had to turn, had to remind myself to breathe as I so often remind you, before exhaling and returning to you, the beloved. You died an hour later, and I mourned you for the sake of her love.
Today you were eighty, and I overheard you telling your friend that you heard music the night before. “It was so beautiful, the most wonderful music I had ever heard. Heaven really does have the most wonderful sounds.” And you closed your eyes, and sighed in wonder.
Love, February
Cocoa, The Fake Poet of February
February 11, 2019 at 6:28 PM
@kimbapnoona @justme @greenfields @leetennant @sicarius @egads @wishfultoki @raonah @ally-le @moana @anothernicole @snarkyjellyfish @khalessymd
@hotcocoagirl
@waadmay @oppafangirl @katakwasabi @mindy @isthatacorner
@fatcat007 @sweetiepie54
bam 🐢🐌💖~
February 11, 2019 at 6:43 PM
bam 🐢🐌💖~
February 11, 2019 at 6:50 PM
My friend’s dad, and his grandpa have been fighting for so long, and I won’t get into everything that’s happening because it’s not my place, but they’ve all been fighting together and fighting each other for years, and years. And it’s so hard, and people can be difficult and confusing and ornery but they’re also so incredibly precious, and it makes it harder. I’ve never truly known the dad or grandpa really well, but his other family members are like my own.. hearing stories about what they’re like, the lives they lived.. gah. Gah gah gah.
I hope they’ll party up in heaven.
bam 🐢🐌💖~
February 11, 2019 at 9:00 PM
And Coco – thank you, for all you do. For feeling and serving in all of the ways you do. Thank you.
Cocoa, The Fake Poet of February
February 14, 2019 at 6:37 PM
Thank you for sharing a b1a4 hug ~
Families are so hard. All we can do is pray these misunderstandings will be cleared up in heaven, where we can be without our selfish pride and bruised egos.
bam 🐢🐌💖~
February 14, 2019 at 10:20 PM
Yes to the praying. I’m glad that there’s hope, but in the middle of everything, it’s hard to see it.
mugyuljoie is preciousss
February 11, 2019 at 9:57 PM
I’ve also spent months at a time as a visiting family member. I appreciated the nursing staff more than you’ll ever know. The patience of nurses and other staff is something to behold and the right nurse, a nurse like you, is a precious gift.
Cocoa, The Fake Poet of February
February 14, 2019 at 6:38 PM
Haha ~ I forgot to include the disclaimer that I’m not the best nurse. But thank you, hospitals are hard places to be, when you are there for someone you love.
egads aka Dame Maggie
February 11, 2019 at 7:21 PM
Having spent a fair amount of time as one of those visiting family members in the last few years, I hope you know just how much I appreciate the work you do. Not just the medical and physical labor, but also the emotional labor. I know you smile even when your feet and mind are screaming for relief. I know you put up with awful situations, patients, families, and other staff. I can’t know it all, and I won’t pretend to, but I hope you know that some of us see you and are thankful you are there, making the stay of our dad, mom, aunt, child, or friend more comfortable in the least comfortable of places.
This was lovely Coco, and I’ll remember these words the next time.
natzillagorilla
February 11, 2019 at 7:44 PM
“That’s love that I didn’t expect, that I don’t know if I’m comfortable with, or worthy of. All I do is my job.”
You’re more than doing your job, and you’re more than worthy.
Nurses are really my favorite people in the world…I can’t imagine how exhausting (physically and emotionally) it must be to spend your days in such an environment, yet here you are, sharing your stories about a human, not a patient!
I’ve told you before and I’ll say it again, you’re the best kind of nurse!
another woodalchi nicole recruit
February 11, 2019 at 7:50 PM
i really don’t have the words, but thank you for sharing. tight, warm hugs to you.
Ally
February 11, 2019 at 8:30 PM
And this is why nurses are the backbone of medicine and medicine is breaking our backs. This isn’t the forum (I have others on which to discuss this) but you are appreciated by all you car me for! Keep up the good fight. I’ll be cheering for you!
Ally
February 11, 2019 at 8:31 PM
*care for
Fatcat007 (Kitty 💜)
February 11, 2019 at 8:34 PM
“and cry for the persons you were and are, and never more will be.”
You are strong Coco.
Waadmay
February 12, 2019 at 2:30 AM
No words to say just tight Hugs 💜💜💜💜💜💜💜
Shek
February 12, 2019 at 7:48 AM
I have no words other than to say you are awesome and so appreciated. **Hugs**
oppafangirl
February 12, 2019 at 10:57 AM
Sending you love and hugs and flowers with a big thank you note.