Tag: Community

Notes from a Traveling Nurse

Last week, while on call, I cared for my first NICU babies.(in my Career) Honesty, when I arrived on the unit with my colleague,(Scrub Tech) as many babies are too sick to be transported to the OR, I thought I might lose it. Like faint — at first.  It was hotter than the NM desert in July compared to the arctic air of the OR rooms. After arriving back into my body — sometimes when I get anxious, I can leave it, I felt I would lose it again — as in tears. And then, as a Health care provider does so well, we shift from emotion to focus; tending to the now, to the baby and everyone caring for this tiny 3 day old human attached to nonhuman things. Things that drip and beep and breathe — yes, do the breathing via a tube, for a child less fortunate to wail and breathe big breaths of life after exiting her young mother’s womb, too soon. 

I have to be honest, I was overwhelmed by the size of the NICU here in this small city of Louisiana. 40 beds, to be precise and all but maybe 2, were occupied. It made me think about the dynamics of the community I currently reside in. Dynamics as in the demographics here — including education, wealth inequality, and crime. There are quite interesting familial patterns, I’ve come to learn about, through discussions with both Police Force and Health Care workers. Crime is very high — Domestic Violence being in the top 5(in the U.S.) here in Northern LA. Many kids have turned to the streets, and well, we know where this goes from here. Very young Mothers, being just one effect — a small outcome that turns into much larger and cyclical social outcomes. 

We are all well aware that violence in our society is at an all time high, though many prefer to avert their eyes, cast judgement whether to the left or to the right. I mean this year(2021 is just a continuum, my friends) has been like one big dodge ball game, shit spinning in a fan — have been my two analogies — where everyone is either extremely reactive or have their heads in their asses. The latter don’t want shit hitting them in the face…but in reality they don’t recognize, they too,  can be shitty human beings — yes, this goes for the Woke as F***, Yay Science and Trumpists fans too. It is a community, whether young or old, rich or poor, black or white, red or blue that holds us together. Unfortunately we’re like those little babies right now, on life support, attached to nonhuman things — waiting to be loved. Unified. Again. 

Knowledge

My best knowledge has come from being in the world. From my patients the past twenty years. From community, villages, cities other than the one I was born. Beyond the walls of North America and within. However, mostly from “outsiders.”

I’ve been educated by children. Yes, children. Ironically, I feel the West needs to grow up. I’ve been nourished by different colors, points of view; families full and rich with love. Ritual. My schooling came beyond states of emergency and from facing my own fears. Lessons mostly arrived from Mother Nature. I’ve learned from others’ dream, sorrows, and overwhelming generosity. Dancing, celebrating, eating together regardless of our complexities. And just because — We are Human. Humans with tremendous capacity for intimacy, respect and joy.

Yes, books are beautiful and bountiful and just plain orgasmic, sometimes. But not a thing has made me more FULL and knowing than direct communion with that, that I AM. And sometimes that is an old gas station for yours and my, viewing pleasure.

Resuscitation -Take I-

In these most unprecedented times, the public has been swarmed with a range of portraits/narratives into a medical system that has been quite frankly, working in the closet for years. I don’t think there’s ever been a moment where we’ve had more of a closeup, inside the walls of our hospitals. This closeup though, needs further attention. First and foremost, may we observe lightly as well as think deeply and more objectively into the lens we are viewing from outside the walls. Things are never as what they appear to be….we know this. We live in such a time of glossy and or fake news/entertainment, agenda driven squares and quite frankly, an ever evolving lack of self authority and responsibility.    

In order for us to transcend — renew a sense of responsibility in our Care systems, I think we must begin to storytell. We need stories from deep within the hearts of medical providers. We need the tragic and the beautiful. The moments we have been touched by our patients, when we have learned something from them, and moments we’ve realized, mistakes were made. We need the stories of birth and of death and how we can accommodate both transitions better. We need to hear humans over machines; hearts over minds, at times and the stories that are impacting our environment as well as the health of the providers/patients within these walls. 

Recently, I have listened to many perplexed and anxious medical minds and bodies on the forefront. And we perhaps, have an even more bewildered and scared mass of bodies waiting outside, to be seen by these insides. My hope is we resuscitate a culture that’s too often boot straps and boxing gloves. That we become alive and healthy again through truths, stories and broader perspectives of what it means to be a human in health care. The good, bad and the ugly. Hey, and if you want to do a dance at times, dance.  I guess just looking into the intention, within that celebration. Because remember, the outside is always looking in, fortunately and unfortunately with a more scrutinous eye.  At the end of the day may we all be Ambassadors for something larger than ourselves. 

The Salve

Yesterday I felt a grief down in my bones.  A feeling, like something is missing. Something that can’t be reached through a screen. Even beauty or God, for that matter. That feeling; it’s more of a salve than a prescription. It’s a connection. My skin resting in a hug. Hand holding hand. It’s checking vitals. Not with a cold device between your heart and mine. Rather vitals as, “what is vital to you dear human?”  

It is warm sand again, between my toes. Sharing a gin in a small back room where all mouths are poets’ mouths. It is the company of a healer not just my own healing company. The company of little ones, old ones and even homeless ones. There was this one man in silver rings, wearing black, always.  Summer and winter under the scaffolding on Howard Street, our eyes would meet. We would bow our heads in honor. I wonder how he’s doing presently…as he is God too. Also beauty.  

That feeling; that salve I so viscerally want to taste. It is Humanness. The sweet and sacred collective. The community. The planet, yours and theirs. May we be brought home soon dear ones, minus the masks we once(and always) wore.