So I don't know exactly where to put this, but I kind of need a release.
i wanted to labour over a convoluted way of how to create a thread out of events for me today, but there's no accurate way to describe what I'd like to vent, so I'll vent it
As some of you know I work in a hospital in Liverpool, based primarily on a cystic fibrosis ward. Now for those of you fortunate not to know what cystic fibrosis involves, it's basically a genetic condition that causes the over production of mucus in the body. This mucus mainly forms in the lungs leading to chronic lung infections, causing scar tissue on the lungs, however it effects everywhere. It effects the body's ability to absorb food properly, leading to underweight appearances, a majority of lads with it are infertile, they can have their own special version of diabetes.
Hell, the amount of medications you're on just for symptom control can cause horrendous side effects.
Average life expectancy is now around 40
It's basically a condition I wouldn't wish upon my most hated enemy.
So, as I work on this ward with this chronic condition with repeated chest infections, you kind of get to know the patients. You form a relationship, where there are private jokes between you, and a strong trust is formed. Over time it becomes more and more like you're looking after a friend rather than a patient.
So this one particular patient has had a rough upbrining. Foster care, anger issues, anxiety issues etc. He takes a while to warm up to us properly. A couple of admissions come and go and he's having a laugh and a joke and he trusts us. Even more time passes and we both agree on Andy carroll and balotelli. We both watch similar tv shows and films.
As bad as it is to say, when I hear he's getting admitted, I get happy because I get to see him and see how he's doing.
As he progresses and his condition worsens, his anxiety gets worse. He can't be in a room with more than 2 people, he doesn't leave his bedroom when he's at home. He increasingly isolated himself.
He gets admitted, and he asks if I could be the only person who goes in and out of his room. I'm touched, honoured and most of all happy that I can break through his anxiety and try and help him.
This is why I got in to this profession.
This is my chance to truly help someone.
I do my duties and help him along and he improves! It's one of my proudest achievements that I could help someone through the dark days.
He's discharged and he seems better mentally.
During all this time there's plans to move all the staff from the ward I work, to a new ward with a different strain of cf; meaning I would no longer be caring for people I have grown to love, in a way, for the last few years.
This is both upsetting to staff and patients.
So the change over happens and I'm getting used to a new bunch of cfs, all of whom are lovely thus far.
I hear from the CF Team that the patient earlier mentioned is getting admitted again. He's not well, but he's not too bad in the grand scheme
So I think "I'll go see him later, see how he's doing".
Go up to see him... "sorry, you cant. We want him to get used to the new nursing staff"
"oh.... Ok"
I turn around and walk out the ward. Biting my lip as I do.
Who the fuck do they think they are? Gang of cunts.
A few days passed and I'm asking daily about him and a few others. I'm hearing he's getting more and more anxious, causing him to get more and more unwell. The anxiety and stress is hindering his treatment. Hes becoming more withdrawn and refusing everything.
Then he takes a turn for the worse.
His chest infection and anxiety become too much, he's having perpetual panic attacks. In the blink of an eye he's commenced on an infusion designed to settle him.
I'm finally allowed to see him and I'm shocked to my core. He's no longer the lad I knew. He's unconscious and unresponsive. The light and twinkle of mischief have gone, to be replaced by vacancy.
The image I've got now is the one of today.
Not the one of the lad I've joked with.
Just this.
I'm quite open to admit when I went back to my own ward after seeing him, his mother and brother, I cried.
I cried for how he is
I cried for how he became this way
I cried because I was powerless to help.
The lad is 20 years old.
I'm very much a believer of "if you don't laugh, you'll cry", and today I couldn't find anything to cling to for solace.
So. Yeah.
I don't know how to explain this in a thread way.
Bad Things that will stick with you forever?
The random ball of feelings thread?
I dunno.
I don't care.
I just needed to vent
i wanted to labour over a convoluted way of how to create a thread out of events for me today, but there's no accurate way to describe what I'd like to vent, so I'll vent it
As some of you know I work in a hospital in Liverpool, based primarily on a cystic fibrosis ward. Now for those of you fortunate not to know what cystic fibrosis involves, it's basically a genetic condition that causes the over production of mucus in the body. This mucus mainly forms in the lungs leading to chronic lung infections, causing scar tissue on the lungs, however it effects everywhere. It effects the body's ability to absorb food properly, leading to underweight appearances, a majority of lads with it are infertile, they can have their own special version of diabetes.
Hell, the amount of medications you're on just for symptom control can cause horrendous side effects.
Average life expectancy is now around 40
It's basically a condition I wouldn't wish upon my most hated enemy.
So, as I work on this ward with this chronic condition with repeated chest infections, you kind of get to know the patients. You form a relationship, where there are private jokes between you, and a strong trust is formed. Over time it becomes more and more like you're looking after a friend rather than a patient.
So this one particular patient has had a rough upbrining. Foster care, anger issues, anxiety issues etc. He takes a while to warm up to us properly. A couple of admissions come and go and he's having a laugh and a joke and he trusts us. Even more time passes and we both agree on Andy carroll and balotelli. We both watch similar tv shows and films.
As bad as it is to say, when I hear he's getting admitted, I get happy because I get to see him and see how he's doing.
As he progresses and his condition worsens, his anxiety gets worse. He can't be in a room with more than 2 people, he doesn't leave his bedroom when he's at home. He increasingly isolated himself.
He gets admitted, and he asks if I could be the only person who goes in and out of his room. I'm touched, honoured and most of all happy that I can break through his anxiety and try and help him.
This is why I got in to this profession.
This is my chance to truly help someone.
I do my duties and help him along and he improves! It's one of my proudest achievements that I could help someone through the dark days.
He's discharged and he seems better mentally.
During all this time there's plans to move all the staff from the ward I work, to a new ward with a different strain of cf; meaning I would no longer be caring for people I have grown to love, in a way, for the last few years.
This is both upsetting to staff and patients.
So the change over happens and I'm getting used to a new bunch of cfs, all of whom are lovely thus far.
I hear from the CF Team that the patient earlier mentioned is getting admitted again. He's not well, but he's not too bad in the grand scheme
So I think "I'll go see him later, see how he's doing".
Go up to see him... "sorry, you cant. We want him to get used to the new nursing staff"
"oh.... Ok"
I turn around and walk out the ward. Biting my lip as I do.
Who the fuck do they think they are? Gang of cunts.
A few days passed and I'm asking daily about him and a few others. I'm hearing he's getting more and more anxious, causing him to get more and more unwell. The anxiety and stress is hindering his treatment. Hes becoming more withdrawn and refusing everything.
Then he takes a turn for the worse.
His chest infection and anxiety become too much, he's having perpetual panic attacks. In the blink of an eye he's commenced on an infusion designed to settle him.
I'm finally allowed to see him and I'm shocked to my core. He's no longer the lad I knew. He's unconscious and unresponsive. The light and twinkle of mischief have gone, to be replaced by vacancy.
The image I've got now is the one of today.
Not the one of the lad I've joked with.
Just this.
I'm quite open to admit when I went back to my own ward after seeing him, his mother and brother, I cried.
I cried for how he is
I cried for how he became this way
I cried because I was powerless to help.
The lad is 20 years old.
I'm very much a believer of "if you don't laugh, you'll cry", and today I couldn't find anything to cling to for solace.
So. Yeah.
I don't know how to explain this in a thread way.
Bad Things that will stick with you forever?
The random ball of feelings thread?
I dunno.
I don't care.
I just needed to vent
