Sunday, August 3, 2008

NSR Week 7

Welcome to Normal Sinus Rhythm, Week 7! The theme this week is "kids." Posted with each link is an excerpt of the original post; head over there and leave a comment if you have the time.

If there is a theme you would like to see in a future NSR, leave a comment here or send an email to nsrblog@gmail.com. We would really appreciate input on this project.

This week, Rogue Medic starts us off with Not Successful Resuscitation.
I have always hated the phrase, "I'm sorry for your loss." It sounds like a Hallmark card for a stranger you've never met. What happened? "Passed on," "Sorry for my loss," "No longer in pain," "No longer with us,". . . . We ask too much of the family member when we provide vague descriptions of what is going on. Unless we use the words "is dead," or "has died," we aren't helping them to recognize what has happened. These are attempts to say the right thing, but they just seems so far from adequate, at least to me.


Peter brings us a piece from his archive, I'll Be At Your Side.
What I like best about this job are the moments you observe between people, moments that show the bonds that life creates, that show the love in people's hearts, particuarly the love of a parent for a child.


Mom? Epi brings us a story of her own children.
It had been four months since I started at the Evil Green Empire. I had just started working a new schedule that gave me my nights and weekends off, but effectively kept me away from home during the day on weekdays.


Gertrude tells us about Asthma.
The engine officer meets me outside the school stating he needs a refusal form for dad to sign. I walk into the nurse’s office to see a small girl in a chair. She is crying. She is in the classic tripod position working hard to breath. Little accessory muscles at work. Before I even talk to dad I put the stethascope to her back and hear nothing but wheezes and rhonchi, everywhere.


Sam tells us about Gracie.
A tech is carrying her in. She's seizing in his giant arms, her little hands hitting his chest, her tiny feet kicking towards his neck. She can't be more than 3. He puts her down as gingerly as he can, and I realize that other than the doctor, I'm the first one in.

1 comment:

J. S. said...

"The engine officer meets me outside the school stating he needs a refusal form for dad to sign. I walk into the nurse’s office to see a small girl in a chair. She is crying. She is in the classic tripod position working hard to breath. Little accessory muscles at work. Before I even talk to dad I put the stethascope to her back and hear nothing but wheezes and rhonchi, everywhere."

I work in Fire based EMS system. This happens more times than I would like to admit. Anyone who is more concerned about getting back to dinner at the firehouse than treating a patient needs to look for another job! JS