She gave me the bird

I walked into her room and she showed her utter respect for me by placing her hand up in front of her face, and then, slowly, purposefully, and with a big smile on her face, she fully extended her arm high up over her head, and extended her middle finger.

Believe it or not, that was her way of showing respect for me. I worked damn hard the other day to get her off the vent, and she passed the weaning screen with flying colors, was awake and alert, and chomping at the bit to get off the vent. Then the doctor came in and basically gave me the big, "Rick, she's not coming off the vent."

Ahhhhhhhhhhhh!!!!! That was the first time I ever begged to extubate. "RICK! I am NOT EXTUBATING that lady today!!!!!"

So she needlessly stayed on the vent an extra day. She was awake and alert, able to read a newspaper, sit on the edge of the bed, watch TV, write notes on her sheet of paper, and the doctor refused to extubate.

She was one of my favorite patients ever. She showed her appreciation for my friendship and my hard work with the bird. Yep, that one event made me proud to be an RT. I smiled and had a nice long discussion with her about books.

What's a humble RT to say to a suicide attempt?

When I get called to ER to do an EKG, it's rare that I know anything about the patient before I go into the room. But it doesn't take long to figure things out.

All I knew from the point of entering the room was that she was a nice looking 23 YO female who had been crying lying on the ER bed of room three.

I pushed my machine to the back of the bed and provided my humble presentation. "Hi, I'm Rick from cardiopulmonary, I'm here to do an EKG. It's quick and painless"

"Why do I need that?" She asked without looking up at me.

"It's just to check out your heart?"

"I can tell you my heart is fine."

"Are you having chest pain?"

"No. My heart is fine."

Grasping at straws here, I said, "The doctor wants me to check out your heart. It's routine for what you came here for." I had no idea what she was here for, but I knew she did. To be honest, by this point I didn't' want to know.

"There's nothing wrong with my heart."

"I have to put stickers here, here and here," I said, pointing to areas on her chest where I would need to lift her shirt. "I can keep you covered." At this point I thought she might refuse at any moment.

"Yeah, I don't care if you see me. I don't care about anything anymore." I stared placing my stickers where I needed them, never exposing her out of respect for the young lady.

"You don't have to tell me. I don't care about anything!" She paused, then added, "I don't want to be here."

"I know what you mean." I said.

"You don't know what I mean."

Ah, how stupid. This is why I usually keep my mouth shut.

"My only regret," she continued, "was that I didn't take more. I knew I should have taken more."

What do you say to someone who tried to kill themselves. Knowing what to say is something beyond my scope of expertise, and is usually why I keep my mouth shut, do the job I'm ordered to do, and leave the room.

She's going to be admitted, I decided. And by law she was going to be kept back in the psyche unit for at least three days. And I'm certain the doctors will talk to her about this. But what if they can't talk her out of doing it again.

"Do you have children" I said.

"Yes, I have three."

"Won't your children be sad if their mommy wasn't here no more?" While she was preocupied in thought, I pushed the button on my machine.

"They live with their dad."

"Still, won't they miss you. Don't they love their mommy?"

"I don't care about anything anymore."

The nurse came back in as I was pealing my stickers off the patient. "As soon as Rick is done with you the police are going to come in and talk with you."

"I don't want to talk with them. I don't like police."

"They are really nice guys," the nurse said. "Remember, you promised me you would cooperate with all the good people who want to come in and help you."

"I don't want help," the patient said. When I go home I'm just going to do this again, and I will succeed this time."

On that note, I wheeled my machine out the door. This was another reminder to myself how well off I have it.

I always thought that if I was ever having suicide thoughts I wouldn't do it because I'd always be thinking about how much I would hurt the people who do love me, most particularly my kids. Man, could you imagine what that would do to kids.

But that's just me. However, as I am reminded from time to time, when you are really depressed, you don't think straight. And you do stupid things. You don't think that killing yourself is a permanent solution to a temporary problem.

However, my initial impression about this young lady is she was seeking attention. I will never know for sure. Either way, and even though she said otherwise, I hope that she thinks about what I said to her. I hope she doesn't do it again for her kids sakes if nothing else.

But what do I know.

Two very interesting patients

Here is something interesting that I doubt happens very often.

It started out as just your typical breathing treatment. She was a 66-year-old end-stage COPD patient who was a regular. I knocked and entered the room.

In bed #1 was her room mate, a lady who looked younger and healthier than my patient. Since she was new to me, and since I was going to be in and out of the room all night, I introduced myself. "Hey, I'm Rick from RT. I'm here to annoy your room mate."

"She's a pretty nice person," the lady in bed #1 said, smiling.

I approached the more sickly looking patient in bed #2. "Hey, Mrs. Lunger, it's time for your before bed peace pipe."

"I'm ready," she said.

Banter ensued between the two very pleasant patients and myself. But that's not what made this encounter so interesting. My patient kept referring to the lady in bed one as "Mommy."

At first I never thought anything of it, just thought these two ladies just got along very well as room mates.

Later, however, as I was wrapping up the treatment and stuffing it into the bag, my patient said, "So, what do you think of my mommy. She looks pretty good, hey."

They both giggled.

I never would have guessed.