Abandon Hope, All Who Enter Here

First. While I don’t dispute that Scrapper needs a med change and/or a muzzle, I’ve decided I’m not responsible for what results when the Voices get a hold of my Mac Book Pro. If doctor’s have no control over the care of their patients in the hospital….

Nevertheless, I am working on the anger. I’ve always believed that Anger is nothing more than a symptom, and it’s best to treat the cause rather than the symptom. In order to diagnose the cause of anger I make myself the defense attorney. It gives one a different perspective, broadens understanding and fosters forgiveness.

I have spent the past few days building a major defense on the incorrect dosing of Rich’s diazoxide.

After all, your Honor, the defendants are only human, not to mention overworked, and let us not forget that we only have the victim’s word that he was started on the bottom line of the dropper and never received more than one full dropper. Let us not forget that he was severely sleep deprived AND hypoglycemic—hardly a reliable witness that would hold up under cross-examination. It seems obvious here that the real question is “Where was the Wife?” It’s hard to credit any true concern when she was seldom at his bedside Monday through Friday, and never once questioned what the nursing staff was doing or giving. Why wasn’t the Wife demanding to see his med list? Requiring staff to demonstrate their dosing methods and calculations? Ultimately, isn’t the Wife responsible for his care? If she chooses to put her job and fiscal responsibilities above her husband’s care she can hardly expect others to cover for her neglect.

Thank you, your Honor. I rest my case.

At which point I had a three hour cry that ended around 9 am this morning. Not convenient, but necessary.

Now that my anger has evolved into guilt I can move on. Not that I ever intended to cause anyone any grief over this. I’m not stupid. No matter how high I might jump ugly, the most that would happen is that one or more nurses would get written up, and that is not what I want and NOT the way to prevent this from happening in the future.

The real problem here is that people with no concept of patient care are making the decisions about patient care, i.e. staffing. These decision makers will NEVER experience the results of their decisions, and I know this from experience, because if they or one of their family members is ever a patient, the Ts will be crossed and the I’s will be dotted, and staff will work their asses off and shit through their ribs to make sure Life is Perfect for them. I know this because I have witnessed this phenomenon first hand, more than once.

It is much the same as Congress determining our health care when they never have to experience it for themselves because they have their own “special healthcare”. La-de-da, la-de-da.

Second to the guilt, I’ve discovered that the cause of my anger is feeling betrayed and abandoned. Not to say that those feelings are reasonable or justified, but thank the goddess, feelings don’t have to be reasonable or justified. They just ARE.

To even attempt to tell you what life with cancer is like is just plain ignorant. Either you already have the relationship, in which case I can add nothing to your knowledge, or you don’t have the relationship , in which case nothing I say can create a whisper of the image for you.

I WILL tell you that fighting cancer is hard enough without getting hit from behind by the people that you trust to have your back. I look up to RNs the way an apprentice looks up to the master craftsman. The RNs I’ve worked with have been my best teachers and I love them like family. They set an example of what a nurse should be. So whenever Rich was in their care, I stepped back with trust and respect. I knew they were caring for him the way I would care for their husband. I was trained to check every dose three times before giving it. “You do not blindly trust anyone to determine the dose you give. It is on you. You follow the doctor’s orders and you do the math and YOU are responsible.” That was the mantra my nursing instructors drilled into my brain. I live by it.

I happen to love White Stripes. One of their songs has become a terminal loop in my brain...."NURSE" Check it out.

My anger is the symptom of feeling betrayed. And scared. If I can’t trust the nurses responsible for his care in the hospital, and the doctor’s have no control over their orders being carried out… then I am truly alone. I was able to fight because I believed we had a team that was fighting with us and for us. Not only do I find myself alone in this fight, I can no longer trust my team.

My brain keeps flashing to the end of “Thelma and Louise”. When they realized it was just the two of them, and no one was going to stand up for them, they took the cliff. NOW I get it.
Calm down. I’m not suicidal. Trust me, I’m not the kind who telegraphs such intentions. If I were really about ending it all, no one would know till it was over.

My favorite movie line of the day….

“We’re all alone out there, and tomorrow we’re going out there again.”
Anyone? Anyone? William Hurt, The Big Chill.