The alcohol on his breath was as stale as his manners. A hardened Vietnam vet with a serious drinking problem, he was now balanced precariously on the edge of extremely sick with probable internal bleeding. His belly was bloated and his skin a tell tale yellow.
Despite his desperate condition, he was mad as hell and letting everyone know it.
"You B%&*#." He looks at me sideways through suspicious eyes and a thick scowl. The smell of old alcohol on his breath is making my stomach squeeze, and the veins in his arm do not look promising for the large bore IV access we need. I'm not sure what I've done to win this flattering title, but I shake it off and try to be professional.
"I'm sorry, sir, but we have to start an IV. You are pretty sick, and we need to give you some medicine."
"You're pathetic. Bring a man here against his will. You f#*$%ing B%&*#."
He was unconscious when he was brought in by the medics, and I find myself wishing that would've stuck a little longer. I remind him that we didn't force him here, but brought him because he was passed out and a little to the left of mostly dead. The first time I told him this his eyes widened in shock and tearing up he had apologized, not realizing how sick he'd been. But that momentary wave of gratitude soon ebbed and I was back to being a B-word.
Sometimes getting a doctor to insert a central line is like getting water from a stone, so many attempts and several nurses later we still had no IV access and had each gotten an earful about our respective worthlessness. We called to the lab for a phlebotomist to draw his blood tests, but this also ended in failure after he called her a racial slur and tried to smack her, leading her to hustle out of the room in a rage.
This was the state of things when shift change mercifully ended our not so sweet relationship. I don't know what happened to my angry little man, but our encounter sent me home thinking about the contrast between the call of Christ to be merciful and the frustration and anger I felt at being demeaned and cursed at by someone I was trying to help. He certainly did not deserve mercy!
But then I remembered that justice is something you deserve while mercy, by definition, is something you do not. God doesn't ask me to be merciful because it's that person's right. He asks me to be merciful because He was merciful to me. And I didn't deserve it either.
Thursday, June 16, 2011
Wednesday, June 8, 2011
Center of the Universe
I think we all instinctively know that we are not the center of the universe. But despite this common knowledge, I think we all have a little voice that quietly, but indignantly insists that we should be. Like when you are driving through the parking lot at Wal-mart and those stupid pedestrians jump out in front of your car impeding the parking process, and when you are a pedestrian and those stupid cars don't slow quite respectfully enough while you're crossing....
You see this magnified in the ER setting. Everyone knows that they are not the only patient, but most people want to be treated like they are. People know there are sicker people than them, but they still feel it's unjust for them to wait with how miserable they feel. People recount each twinge and ache and unusual feeling or symptom as though conveying the most interesting and important information in the world.
I was thinking about this the other day after having a particularly trying little patient. She was in her 80s and came by ambulance for a flare up of asthma that was pretty much improved by breathing treatments in the ambulance before she came to us. The complaining started about as soon as her 5 foot frame hit the gurney.
"Oooooh... these beds are horrible! They must not care about people here, to have such horrible, uncomfortable beds! They must want you to suffer. I can't be the only one who has complained about these awful beds!" (She wasn't the first, but we usually don't hear the first compliant until at least a couple of hours have gone by). And that was just the beginning. The bed was horrible, the pillows were awful, she needed another pillow! "There - no not there, THERE!" She needed more blankets, then all these blankets were making her claustrophobic, take them off, OFF!
To make things even more lovely, despite a very detailed description of how to utilize the call light, she forwent the troublesome pushing of a button, and opted instead for the heart wrenching "Heeeelp! HELP!" whenever she wanted something. Be it a rearranged pillow, blankets on, now off... At about the 6th or 7th desperate pleading call for help that is really a request for more ice chips, the nursing staff begins to be a little less prompt in response, which never looks good to bystanders who only hear the frail voice of an old woman crying for help which seems to be unheeded...
Since the condition that brought her through our doors was pretty much fixed before she arrived, I tried to jump ahead on the "how do we get you out of here, I mean home" process since, well, she didn't need to be here and was on the verge of dissolving those last precious strands of patience. So I asked her about family or friends we might be able to call. She told me there was no one.
It's always sad when you realize that someone is literally alone in the world. Sad because of course they are lonely. And also sad, because that little voice insisting we should be the center of the universe is only held in check by the people in are lives who continually remind us, "um, no, you most definitely shouldn't be". She was alone with only herself to care for. Only her own needs, and pains, and frustrations and disappointments to think about and tend to.
I thought about this little woman who tried my patience that day as I bristled with irritation at some thoughtless pedestrian in the Target parking lot while I was trying to park. I was humbled in that moment by the realization that I too wish the world would bend and flex to accommodate me and my preferences, and I'm strangely irritated when it seems to fail too. I constantly need to be reminded that the universe has a much more deserving and glorious Center... and if I will recognize that truth more fully, perhaps I will feel more gracious at work towards trying people on busy days.
And in parking lots.
You see this magnified in the ER setting. Everyone knows that they are not the only patient, but most people want to be treated like they are. People know there are sicker people than them, but they still feel it's unjust for them to wait with how miserable they feel. People recount each twinge and ache and unusual feeling or symptom as though conveying the most interesting and important information in the world.
I was thinking about this the other day after having a particularly trying little patient. She was in her 80s and came by ambulance for a flare up of asthma that was pretty much improved by breathing treatments in the ambulance before she came to us. The complaining started about as soon as her 5 foot frame hit the gurney.
"Oooooh... these beds are horrible! They must not care about people here, to have such horrible, uncomfortable beds! They must want you to suffer. I can't be the only one who has complained about these awful beds!" (She wasn't the first, but we usually don't hear the first compliant until at least a couple of hours have gone by). And that was just the beginning. The bed was horrible, the pillows were awful, she needed another pillow! "There - no not there, THERE!" She needed more blankets, then all these blankets were making her claustrophobic, take them off, OFF!
To make things even more lovely, despite a very detailed description of how to utilize the call light, she forwent the troublesome pushing of a button, and opted instead for the heart wrenching "Heeeelp! HELP!" whenever she wanted something. Be it a rearranged pillow, blankets on, now off... At about the 6th or 7th desperate pleading call for help that is really a request for more ice chips, the nursing staff begins to be a little less prompt in response, which never looks good to bystanders who only hear the frail voice of an old woman crying for help which seems to be unheeded...
Since the condition that brought her through our doors was pretty much fixed before she arrived, I tried to jump ahead on the "how do we get you out of here, I mean home" process since, well, she didn't need to be here and was on the verge of dissolving those last precious strands of patience. So I asked her about family or friends we might be able to call. She told me there was no one.
It's always sad when you realize that someone is literally alone in the world. Sad because of course they are lonely. And also sad, because that little voice insisting we should be the center of the universe is only held in check by the people in are lives who continually remind us, "um, no, you most definitely shouldn't be". She was alone with only herself to care for. Only her own needs, and pains, and frustrations and disappointments to think about and tend to.
I thought about this little woman who tried my patience that day as I bristled with irritation at some thoughtless pedestrian in the Target parking lot while I was trying to park. I was humbled in that moment by the realization that I too wish the world would bend and flex to accommodate me and my preferences, and I'm strangely irritated when it seems to fail too. I constantly need to be reminded that the universe has a much more deserving and glorious Center... and if I will recognize that truth more fully, perhaps I will feel more gracious at work towards trying people on busy days.
And in parking lots.
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