Debbie Moore-Black is a nurse who blogs at Do Not Resuscitate.
It was that bewitching hour. 0300. Behavioral health unit/behavioral health intensive care unit.
She was a small young woman. Her eyes appeared black as coal, as if her soul had been sucked out repeatedly. There were bruises around her eyes, black and blue punch marks up and down her arms. Several superficial cuts on her forearm—self-destruction. She was quiet, almost invisible. She wanted to sit in the corner of her bed, …
I was raised in the Catholic Church. The solemn, reserved, respectful quiet as the priest whispered out his occasional reverent chants. That’s what I knew. That was the only thing I grew to love of the Catholic faith.
This friend of mine. We met years ago by happenstance. She was a firm believer in God, her husband, her dog, her daughters, and her Christian novels that she read feverishly.
She also loved …
In the ICU, there was an experienced nurse. She was full of information and knew the policies and procedures inside and out. She was proficient in her role as an ICU nurse.
But she was flawed. Something was wrong.
Each day, she came to work wearing a gold bracelet, which she made sure everyone knew was valued at $15,000. She wore two-carat diamond rings. She would arrive, showing off her fancy pocketbook …
Fred was the cool guy.
Back in the 1950s and 60s, smoking cigarettes was considered movie star quality. That circling of smoke in his parked car with the girl of his dreams.
He started smoking at the tender age of 15.
Fred had it figured out. Cigarettes were glamorous. Cigarettes were cool.
Doctors advertised that smoking was good for you. It helped you keep weight off, and it relieved your anxiety.
In 1965, the Surgeon …
(Trigger warning: suicide attempt)
It was dinner time at this hospital’s psychiatric unit. They shuffled into the dining area—slippers, pajamas, disheveled, sad, lonely, depressed … and forgotten.
Head count. All were present except for one: Rita. Faithful Rita. Always at every therapy session, including poetry therapy, art therapy, and bingo night. Always smiling and laughing, cheering up the other patients. Rita was 54 years old and a mother of three. Her husband …
After 45 years as an ICU nurse specializing in surgical trauma ICU and eventually PACU nursing, Marsha wasn’t ready to retire. She was restless and bored and decided to continue her PACU expertise at a freestanding surgical center. While juggling that job and an endoscopy center, she started to notice a recurring theme: time is money.
The endoscopy freestanding clinic performed colonoscopies, EGDs, and sigmoidoscopies—up to 42 procedures a day. More …
I waited in line at the pharmacy, a familiar chain store. The man in front of me waited patiently for the technician to ring up his meds. I overheard her say to him, “$125.00. That includes your insulin.”
The man bowed his head and smiled politely, showing many missing teeth. He was dressed modestly. I did not know his name. I did not know him. I had never met him before. …
I understand it well. You persuade yourself that everything is fine. And then you persuade others that your marriage is perfect.
You’re facing a terminal illness, but you’re the exception because it surely can’t happen to you.
You’re in poor health with unexplained aches and pains, but you avoid visiting your doctors, instead praying to Jesus to alleviate your pain. To heal you of whatever it might be.
Denial. I was a workhorse. …
My mother. 63 years old. Colon cancer.
She first noticed rectal bleeding. She made excuses. Maybe it’s hemorrhoids.
She put her physician on a pedestal. He said, “You’re too young to die,” and there was no need for further tests.
Her daughters, both RNs (one an ICU nurse, the other an anesthetist), pleaded with her to get a colonoscopy. She refused. We pleaded with her getting a second opinion. She refused. Her once-plump …
My first post-op night after my nephrectomy was a mix of fantastical and almost devastating.
I woke up in the PACU after my surgery, extremely confused and disoriented. I felt like I was trapped inside a video game, desperately trying to escape.
Upon entering my new post-op room on a medical-surgical unit, it had that brand-new, hotel-like decor – shiny and pristine. The nurses, techs, and NPs greeted me with words of …
A small, cliquish bevy of nurses was working their way through orientation in the NICU straight out of nursing school. They were happy and thrilled to be accepted into this specialized nursing unit: the NICU.
Practicing good hygiene, washing hands up to the elbows with soap each time one entered a baby’s cubicle, and gowning and gloving was a standard and mandatory protocol before touching the babies.
These were preemies in the …
A solid mass silently grew on my kidney. An unwelcome addition. Asymptomatic. Discovered haphazardly during a CT scan of my lungs … And it revealed itself.
At first, I was devastated. Will cancer ever leave me alone? It has already visited me twice before. First, breast cancer, also asymptomatic, detected during my very first mammogram at the age of 42, and then a troublesome mole that tested positive for melanoma.
I seemed …
After 32 years working as an ICU nurse, I believed I had developed a strong capacity to confront death alongside my patients. I had become accustomed to the challenging scenarios: co-morbidities, multi-system organ failure, emergency intubations, ventilators, pressors, central lines, art lines, failure-to-thrive cases, code blues, and the grim sounds of ribs cracking during CPR.
It was not uncommon to witness families desperately shouting, “Do everything,” even when there was little …
25 years ago, at the age of 42, I had my first mammogram, which was part of my routine checkup. I had no symptoms at the time.
I was devastated when the radiologist discovered a shadow in my left breast. To confirm this, a biopsy was scheduled, and indeed, the biopsy confirmed that I had breast cancer.
I consider myself fortunate because we caught it early, and there was no involvement of …
I like to thrift shop. Aisle after aisle weaves a story of people and their lives. Pieces of trinkets I’ll never need. But I can feel the hidden simple beauty, and then I have to have it. My children can line my gravesite with the thousands of collectible pottery… those awkward, strange gems I know I can’t take with me.
And then …
His 5-year-old daughter asked her mom, “Today is daddy’s birthday. Can we have a picnic at his grave?”
Bryan was 49 years old. He could really do anything. He could do renovations, carpentry, electrical work, play music, be a father and a husband, a son, an uncle, a brother, and a brother-in-law. He had an incredible sense of humor, was down-to-earth, and a big teddy bear to his children. No one …
She was oil, and I was vinegar. We didn’t mix. Ever. Even though we wanted the best outcome for our ICU patients, we stood on opposite poles of the earth. Sometimes, there’s only room for one alpha dog, one ultimate bully. And that person wasn’t me.
Mr. Williams, 68 years old, received the tragic news from his physician. He was experiencing strange and unusual symptoms: slurred speech, muscle weakness, lack of …
ICU: Our acuities were high, and staffing was low. Our ICU, with 24 beds, was already full. The staffing situation for that night was so poor that instead of our RNs having a 2:1 patient-nurse ratio, we were forced into 3:1 assignments.
Despite the challenging circumstances, we couldn’t have asked for a better team of ICU nurses. They were the best in their field, supported by two dedicated Respiratory Therapists assigned …
Jason had always cherished the Fourth of July—it was his moment to shine. At 19 years old, he saw himself as a real man, a car mechanic who garnered the attention and admiration of the ladies. With a fit and muscular physique, he relished his workouts and delighted in showcasing his daredevil spirit.
The day was marked by a grand cookout, where Jason reunited with his high school friends. The smoky …
He was 82 years old when he came into our ER, writhing in excruciating abdominal pain. After an ultrasound and a subsequent CT scan, the devastating diagnosis was revealed—end stage pancreatic and liver cancer.
Despite enduring a pain level of 10, he managed to maintain his sense of humor, joking about “biting the bullet.” However, he admitted that the pain had become unbearable.
This resilient individual was not just any patient; he …
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