Dead Miss X

OH! So I forgot to address the dead woman.

When I first got to the hospital, I was put into a semi-private room, which was like okay, whatever, I heard people come and go. One woman had an abscess on her foot and her husband? boyfriend? girlfriend? lover? was very VERY worried about it and didn't seem to understand the what the phrase, "I don't know any more about it!" meant.

But there was one woman, mid-forties, large, light brown hair, white, whose name I don't recall. When she came in, I was on one of my four-hour advil-induced highs, wherein I had no fever and overall felt relatively okay, so I was able to gather information (when you're in a hospital, you get bored easily, so pretending you're a spy listening in on conversations that nurses are having with other patients becomes inordinately interesting). She came in because her oncologist had said she was dehydrated, which for a patient with stage 3 colon cancer undergoing chemotherapy can be a big deal. She came in during the late-evening, probably around 7, and I never talked to her one-on-one, just saw her on one of my many trips to the bathroom to pee out the saline that was coursing through me (which, by the way, is so weird! I barely drank any water all day, but I had to pee like a incontinent racehorse). 

Anyways, from the moment she came into the room, she was wheezing heavily. She had some serious trouble moving air, which I assumed was from her enormous size, since she fared better sitting up. But, throughout the course of the night her wheezing just got worse, and even I thought that someone needed to help her, to put an oxygen mask on her or something, because she was clearly having difficulty. But med-techs came and left the room, just asking if she was in pain, but not really paying any heed to her wheezing. At about 7AM the day after she came in, a tech was in the room with a nurse because they were having trouble taking her vitals when I heard the following:

"Miss X's eyes rolled back into her head"
"What?"
"Her eyes! They rolled back into her head"
"Miss X! Miss X! Are you with us?? Oh god she's not moving air...get me the suction and oxygen...oh god she's coding! Pull the code line! Pull the code line!"
"The what? Where?? Where is it?"
"The blue line!! Pull it now! Get me oxygen"

*Tech pulls the line, about 50 seconds after asked to...has trouble finding it, mean while Tyler and I are still in the room, I am attached to a IV, which is attached to the wall**

**Three more nurses run in, with a doctor asking to be briefed, chest compressions start, frantic movement around the room, another doctor comes in asking to be briefed**

**Another nurse pops over, notices me sitting there in horror, listening to this woman die, unsure of what to do and how to exit the room. She asks Tyler to leave, which he was already getting ready to do, and says they'll send a wheel chair for me**

**Some time passes and they continue to work on Miss X. Another doctor comes in, the room seems to be frantic and in chaos, people not really sure what to do during a code. I am still in the room**

**Miss X's body suddenly starts to fart a lot, and there are weird noises**

**Finally a nurse seems me trying to unplug my own IV because Miss X's bodily death-functions are starting to really frighten me...so she helps me up and out, muttering about how people should have gotten me out right away**


So I end up outside, sitting in the nurses station, with one shoe on, in a patient gown, slightly frightened at the incompetency I heard/saw in the room. Questions swirled: Why hadn't they taken me out right away? Why didn't they know where the code line was? Why did it seem like mass chaos instead of an organized well-oiled machine? Wasn't that what was needed to save a life, not the bumbling that occurred in there? Why hadn't the woman been helped with her breathing earlier?

All of these questions continue to bother me. Particularly, I am frightened by the complete shock I heard at this woman coding. I feel that hospitals need to run like practiced machines: while it may not be common for people to code in that hospital, the staff should be prepared through practice runs to handle it when it does happen. Precious seconds are important at that time.

Honestly, she probably would have died sooner than later with a cancer that bad (from what I gathered from the not-so-subtle nurses), but she didn't have to die like that. She was in distress for a while, and people wasted the time they should have been using to save her, bumbling about trying to find an oxygen machine.

Therefore, I have a couple of resolutions:

--When I am a doctor, I will work at a teaching hospital, one where you are constantly kept on your toes by residents and interns who have just learned the material, and nurses who constantly have to be on their toes to correct the mistakes made by those residents and interns, and too cocky attendings.

--I will not be satisfied with mediocrity in my career. Being satisfied with mediocrity leads to general absentmindedness. When you are a healthcare professional at any level, RN, tech, LPN, doctor, you cannot afford that, peoples lives are in your hands. That sounds so ridiculous, but it's true, and I felt that no one questioned this woman's seriously distressed breathing, and that is settling, and thinking someone else would deal with it.

Maybe she would have died anyways, I don't know, but what I saw at the hospital, her death, and so many other problems, very much bothered me, and made me even more sure that when I am a doctor, I will not let myself become complacent. I will be constantly meticulous and work in an area where I am forced to stay so.

Okay, now I'm off to play video games.

M

Sick and stuff

So it's been over a month since I've posted and here are some things that have happened:

1. It became November
2. The new Harry Potter came out
3. I almost visited my friend, Sam. Almost.
4. I missed a week of school.
5. Oh yeah, I got Pneumonia
6. I heard a woman die.

So last week, on Friday, T-'s dad came and I felt like crap. My head was hurting, as were my eyes, I was exhausted, my body ached, and I was nauseous. However I assumed I had a day or two virus/illness. Saturday it got worse, but I went out, stubborn as I am. I went to the farmer's market, whole foods, and HEB with T- and his dad, and got home with a fever of 102.5 and vigorous chills. My mom suggested I go to the hospital, she was very worried I had a bacterial pneumonia, but again I argued: No mom, I have a short-term flu, I'll be fine.

T-'s dad left on Sunday, and I felt worse and began throwing up. My fever went up, it was not 103.4. So we went to urgent care since I didn't want to wait for hours in the emergency room at the hospital. They gave me an IV, advil, and a butt-shot of Rosefin (an antibiotic). They also took a chest x-ray, and confirmed the first of many things my mom was right about: I had a lower right lobe Pneumonia, small but present.

When my mom heard this she said she WAS coming down to SA because she knew I was seriously, seriously ill (something I thought was over zealous and over-reacting, however I would soon find I needed to thank my lucky stars my mom came down).

See, the amazing thing about my mom -- she's a genius. I'm not lying, my mom has her faults, as we all do, and we are both stubborn women which can cause head-butting some times, but I cannot deny that my mom is a brilliant doctor and an awesome mom. When she got there, she took my temperature: 103.7. She stomped her foot and said "M-, you're very very sick, you need to go to the hospital" so she took me to the ER. She thought I was very sick, I thought she was over-reacting.

Long story short -- she was right, right about everything. Over the next 4 nights, I was kept in the hospital. For the first three days, they gave me antibiotic after antibiotic, changed my IV three times, gave me IV morphine, innumerable doses of advil and tylenol, and watched my vitals -- trying to see if my fever would go down, and nothing happened. The antibiotics didn't seem to be having an effect, advil worked for four hours, breaking my fever, but it came back like clockwork, higher and worse than ever usually: 104. I had chills, meaning I was septic (meaning I had bacteria in my blood).

Worst of all, my body was not producing its own antibodies. I had a massive illness and my white count was normal. NORMAL.  And my protein levels were those of a "malnourished HIV patient" to quote my brother. Apparently, I got so caught up in TFA and teaching, that I forgot to eat, for several weeks. I had noticed my weight drop dramatically, but I didn't really pay attention to it. I was too lazy to make food for myself, so I just ate random stuff around the house, not taking in enough protein. So they pumped all this medicine into me, because I couldn't make my own antibodies...but it didn't seem to be working.

Eventually on the fourth day, it seemed to take affect, my fever only went up to 100.2, and then the next day, I didn't have a fever at all.

So far it's been a little less than a week that I haven't had a fever, and I'm loving it. I'm still coughing a lot, I get tired very easily, I need to drink tons of water, and oh yeah, I'm still on tons of antibiotics, but no fever so far.

I'm disappointed in myself. When I got out of the hospital, everyone told me that I was life-threateningly ill, primarily because my body was too weak to fight off illness. I didn't take care of myself, so I had to have other people come and take care of me. I'm not trying to sound melodramatic, but it's disappointing.

My mom is old, she's not well, and I should be taking care of her. Instead she's down here taking care of me. So a new rule: my job with TFA takes a back seat to my health. I love my students, I love that I'm helping some of them, I love that I heard that some of them were worried about where I was, but I need to look after number 1, and that's me.

If I can't take care of myself, I can't help other people. Because of my foolishness and bad luck, I will have to miss a good deal of school because I will be too weak to really go and give it my all with my students, and really -- with my kids I need to be giving it my all. So now, I take care of myself.

Going to go play video games --

M

"Real" real life

It's weird to think about life post-TFA, and going through the steps to fulfill my dreams post-TFA. My principal asked me a few days ago asked me if I was going to stay on past the two years. That question started me thinking about my life post-TFA. The "real" real life.

Recently, and by that I mean since June, I have been so wrapped up in the teaching world, that I forgot there was a world out there that had to do with what I ultimately want to pursue: medicine.

So tonight, after I spent a bit of time planning week 12 and finishing a few worksheets for wk 11 (next week), I decided to open up that good old MSAR book and look at what schools I wanted to apply to. Doing this sort of took me down a reflective path -- I thought about college and what I did, and what I could have done differently.

I loved college. I didn't know that you could "make" a sister out of your best friend, I didn't know you could become best friends with someone who you worried about frequently, and I definitely didn't think you could fall in love with a boy that would eventually become the man you still loved over 3.5 years later. College was a whirl-wind of experiences, both academic and social.

Socially -- I would not change a thing. Academically -- I could have done better my first 2 years in college. But I was finding myself, finding my own study skills, trying to see what would work, realizing that you must "sacrifice for success" to copy SHHS's saying. So it took me those 2 years to learn the self-control I have now, the self-control I pride myself on.


So now I'm going through the MSAR book, looking at the GPAs and MCAT scores that are the average at most schools woefully, but when I step back -- I'm happy with how my life has turned out so far, and I wouldn't trade it. So, I'm taking a deep breath, I'm sure a medical school will accept me based on the fact that it is clear that I will be an excellent doctor, rather than my not-super-stellar numbers.

Good night :-)

No Sunday Blues

This weekend has been fabulous.

Friday we went to a party at Mr. Butt's home in the KW area. It's a beautiful neighborhood with old houses built in the style of southern plantation homes. The houses are architecturally amazing, with swooping roofs, gargantuan cream-colored columns, and large porches that look out onto perfectly maintained lawns -- it's beautiful, and screams wealthy. Well, Mr. Butt is wealthy, he owns HEB, the go-to grocery store across much of south Texas, parts of north Texas, and Louisiana (I've learned that most things that are in Texas, will be in Louisiana as well -- it's weird). He took a small company located in San Antonio, and expanded it across Texas making it a billion dollar enterprise. Anyways -- he donated a good deal of money to TFA, taking our 2010 corps from 50 CMs to 100 CMs, and graciously welcoming us into the community with a few different get-togethers and parties. Well, the one this weekend was quite fun. He had dinner, amazing dessert (I think it was churro bread pudding), and a great DJ. It's probably a first for me, but I thought the DJ was better than the food! He was amazing, he mixed Poker Face with Smells Like Teen Spirit, and he played all the right songs. It was DJ ChickenGeorge I think? Anyways, we walked home after that.

Saturday I had to go to PDAS training which was mandatory, early morning, and boring. But the leaders were energetic, played games, and interspersed interesting slides into their lecture to make it more fun. However lunch was surprising (or I guess not really in many ways), they had no vegetarian food. The woman said "Hmmm..no, I don't have vegetarian options available...OH! I have chicken salad!" So naturally I just went to Sonics. But Saturday night we went to J-'s for a Halloween party! T- and I spent 45 minutes trying to figure out what our costumes should be...I went from Static cling, to tribolium beetle, to alien, to killer static cling, to a box, when finally, I saw T-'s fedora and we decided to be...INDIANA JONES and his side kick Ilsa. The party was fun -- a lot of cute costumes, but we peaced out kind of early, we were both tired...

Sunday was a lazy day, we both woke up at around 10 o'clock (my phone died, and with it my 9AM alarm) but it was nice to wake up late...ate breakfast, watched the Daily Show, took Jacques out for a walk around the Blue Star area, went to T-bell, and HEB, and now we're back at 3:17.

The amazing part of this weekend was that I never once felt like crying, like I was overwhelmed and overworked. I got home tired on Friday, and T- swept me up to take Jacques out for a walk then off to Mr. Butt's. Saturday I got home from PDAS fully prepared to work, but at T-'s suggestion and my own thoughts...I decided to take Saturday for myself, so I read, relaxed, and tried not to think about work at all. And today is Sunday...and I'm genuinely happy.  I am going to get to work after this, but I don't really mind, and I know I'm not going to work past 7:30 or 8. I suppose I never realized how important relaxing was. I always think that if I'm relaxing, I'm doing something horrible, I need to be doing work at all times. And you know what, I would be a better teacher, student, doctor, or whatever if I did work all the time, if I made sure it's all I really thought about 90% of the time. But I wouldn't be a happier person. I wouldn't be a healthy person.

I have one life, and it's so hard to remember that. It's so hard to realize how precious life is when there's so much to do, but it's good to remember it sometimes, like this weekend, take a break.

I really have T- to thank for that. He's made me so much more of a relaxed person, and I love him so much for that.

This was a long post, but its been so good...so good, to not feel like crying Saturday afternoon because "the weekend is almost over"

What am I doing?

Sometimes I look around my apartment, my classroom, even my car, and wonder "How did I get here? What am I doing?" 

I never would have thought less than a year ago, that I would be in Texas, teaching high school Biology. It wasn't a dream I've had for years, in fact it wasn't even a thought in my head other than discussions over dinner or cookies about educational policy with Sam and Tyler. I didn't think I would get into Teach For America -- so after I sent in my application, I didn't give it much thought. It's like applying to a good school -- everyone does it, but who thinks they're going to get in? 

But I'm here, I'm an adult. I'm teaching children. They look to me for information -- if I don't teach them, they won't know it, I'll permanently affect their future. I still feel like a child myself though. I suppose I'm being introspective since it's near my birthday, and another year will be added to my age. I promise myself one thing, I might be an adult, but I'll always be a child. I'll always be curious, I'll always want to play, and I'll always be a practical idealist. 

I don't want to be jaded, I don't want to see the world through rose-tinted glasses either -- I want to be happily in between. 

So happy early birthday to me. I might not be where I thought I'd be, but I'm doing something...cool. It's an experience, and I hope I'm doing something good along the way. All I know is that it's an experience, and it's up to me to make the best out of it, and I will.  But I won't get jaded while I'm doing it, I won't let myself harden in the face of difficulty and fulfilled stereotypes.

I'm a practical idealist woman-child, and I always will be.

Best Banana Bread EVER.

If you're stressed, if you're hungry, if you just want to do something -- MAKE this banana banana bread:

http://www.thefreshloaf.com/node/6639/my-favorite-banana-bread-recipe-it-has-no-eggs

It's amazing. I don't have eggs in the house, and generally I just don't eat eggs period, so this is a GREAT recipe for old bananas that are gonna go bad. I used walnuts and chocolate chips, and it's SUPER awesome. It comes out a little dense...but if you want to change that, just toss in a little bit of baking powder along with the baking soda..it'll make it more cake-y :-)

Enjoy!

Weekends

Weekends go by way too fast. Friday night is great because you know you have two day of no work ahead of you. Saturday morning is lazy...sleeping in, enjoying the fact you don't have to get up at 6:15 to go to work...but by mid-Saturday afternoon I'm realizing I have to go back to work in a day and a half...so I've reached the point of no return: recognition that the weekend is almost over. For the next day and a half, I mope about thinking about how I have to go to work on Monday, freaking out at least once about that fact on Saturday and maybe once more on Sunday.

I really need to change that -- thinking about how the weekend is almost over, when it's STILL Saturday. It just increases my stress level and ultimately makes me unhappy. Ergo, I'm turning over a new leaf (something I say I'm doing every Sunday, but this time hopefully I'll hold to it) -- weekends, every second of them, are fun. They are meant to be enjoyed, and even if they're almost over, they're not yet, right? It's my attitude that maintains weekend fun-ness.

Okay, introspection over, back to work/relaxing. At least I'm not AT work doing work and I can sit and pet Jacques while I grade :-)