Thoughts

Last night, I wound up going into the ER for abdominal and back pains. I had put it off for a day, called my OB, who said it was probably nothing, but if it continued, got stronger, and a few other things, I should go to the ER and get checked out. It could be baby related, or it just could be a pulled muscle, or a gallbladder problem that was presenting with unusually located pain. My OB is affiliated with a hospital an hour away, and he said a closer ER would be fine if it got to that point.
Finally about 8 pm the pain became so strong that my husband and I decided that a visit to the local ER was in order. We bypassed our small community hospital, in the rare event that it was a baby related problem, and proceeded to a larger hospital with a good OB unit. I expected them to send me to the ER, rule out any baby problems, and then look to see what might be going on.

When we arrived, we were ushered up to labor and delivery, since I was 20 weeks. The nurses were incredible--kind, patient, knowledgeable. They quickly reassured me that everything was ok with the baby; his heart rate was good, and there was no indication of premature labor. All this I was expecting...and then they left me there. THe RN finally told me that the on call certified nurse midwife would be in, but she was on call and was coming from home. They also told me it was probably a kidney infection but they'd have to wait for all the tests to come back.

It was after midnight before she got there. The CNM walked into the room, introduced herself, and began yelling--literally yelling--at me for coming into the ER. She said this was normal pain and that I can't come into the hospital in the middle of the night for a second opinion. She then said she had a hard enough time seeing her own patients and didn't want to see anyone else's. I answered, politely(because my husband was about to kick her out of the room), that I was following my doctor's orders in coming into the ER. She then continued to berate me for coming into the hospital for such a "stupid problem"(her words, not mine), and waking her up, until we had had enough and ended the conversation then and there. We never got an actual diagnosis, but my discharge instructions told me to drink lots of fluids.

The RN, meanwhile, ushered the nurse midwife out quickly, then stepped back in and closed the door. She had the hospital's complaint line in her hand and gave it to my husband.

I cried on the way home--from exhaustion, and pain, and simple shock at being treated the way I did.

But it made me think.

How do I treat my patients? Am I as kind and compassionate towards the 2 am call for a red, numpy knee as I am the 2 pm call for severe chest pain? Am I as reassuring to the 90-year-old lady with back pain that has since resolved as I am to the 9-year-old with a broken leg? How about the frequent flyers who call three times a week and pretend to be unresponsive when we get there? Or the 0130 call for a drunk? Am I always compassionate, concerned, and kind; or do I silently berate my patients for waking me up for "stupid crap."

It's a wake up call. Being treated the way no patient should ever be treated, especially when I am scared, and in pain, and emotionally vulnerable, and feeling how much that bothered me---and knowing that maybe I wasn't as compassionate towards that middle of the night call for leg pain last week as I could have been(understand, I have never and would never berate, humiliate, or otherwise emotionally hurt a patient the way this CNM did. But sometimes, I, too, fall into the thinking that it's "just a BS call" and get a little sloppy.). We aren't asked to judge our patients, even though it's so easy to do. And it's easy to forget, when we're being pulled out of a warm bed or ambulance in the night, that our patient is probably scared, in some pain, and just doesn't know what else to do but call for us. Most of the patients who call 911 and request help, even if they aren't truly sick and probably could have taken a car to the hospital, are simply doing the best they know how. Are there people who abuse the system? Absolutely--but does that give us any right to emotionally abuse them? Does it give me a right to give that patient any less than my best care, both physically and emotionally?

So as I head off to work, still somewhat reeling from last night, and still in pain, I pray that my patients today, in me, will see only love, kindness, and concern. For who knows--mine may be the only kind voice that they hear all day.

My son

We are having a son. His name is Joshua Robert, and for the most part, we don't ever call him the baby anymore--we refer to him as Joshua. We had originally discussed whether or not to find out the gender, but in the end, decided we wanted to. For me, at least, it's easier to bond with a baby that I can call by name.

I have no idea about little boys, and I have no idea how to raise one to be a man.

But what I want, baby Joshua, is for you to grow up strong, and brave, and compassionate. I want courage, and sacrifice, and honor, and loyalty, and duty to be far more than just words to you; I want them to be concepts that define you. I want you to help little old ladies get safely across the street. I want you to never start a fight, but to know that some things are worth fighting for. For those things, for those fights, I don't want you to start them, but I always want you to step in and finish them. I want you to know when to be tough, and I want you to know when you to be gentle. And I want you to know that real men are loving, kind, and do not feel that they need to belittle or harm others in order to be strong. And you should also know that, as your mother, I will never tolerate you hurting someone else. I want you to know that there are still heroes in this world, there are still those who serve others selflessly. I want you to grow up to be a hero.

I want you to be someone who runs in when the whole world is running out.
I want you to be someone who is kind when it is easier to be mean.
I want you to be someone who is compassionate and loving towards those who don't deserve it.
I want you to work hard, even when you are tired, and it is cold and uncomfortable.
I want you to always finish what you start, and always be truthful, and do what you say you will do.

You are fortunate. Not all little boys have what you have. You have a strong, brave, loving and gentle father to look up too. You have a daddy who does not just speak of courage, and honor, and selflessness, but lives them every day. And more than anything else, little Joshua, your mommy and your daddy already love you so very much.

Letter to my baby

My dear, sweet little baby...

You've been around for eleven weeks now, which makes me fourteen weeks pregnant. You've managed to do some amazing things in those eleven weeks, like grow big enough that your daddy and I know you're there. Last night you curled up into a ball on my left side, and there was just enough of you that we could see you sticking out. And then the fire tones went off, and like you usually do, you flipped and flopped and rolled over till you were all stretched out. Your daddy can feel you, just barely, since you're still so small, and he thinks poking my belly to feel you move away is the greatest thing, ever. We can't feel you, exactly, just the hard spots you make, but we can feel that hard spot as it moves from side to side.

Your daddy just got a new job that pays almost $20,000 a year more than what he was making, and he only works two 24/hour shifts a week. This is wonderful, because your mommy right now is still too sick, and always exhausted, to think about working more than on call when she can. There's enough paperwork to keep me busy for a year, but somedays, I can barely get off the couch. This job has better benefits, too, and you and I can go spend afternoons with your daddy when he's at work and have dinner with him. Your daddy and I have decided that for the first year of your life, I will probably not work much. I will take one class a semester towards my RN degree, but for your first year, little one, it's going to be you and me. While I had never expected to be anything close to a stay-at-home mom, I suspect I will need lots of naps for a while, and not needing to worry about work. I can still pick up shifts when I want, especially when your daddy's home, but mostly, it's just not something I have to worry about for a while. We are very thankful for your daddy's new job.

Well, little Joshua or Olivia, it is late, and the only reason your mommy is still awake is because someone had chest pains, and she and your daddy went on the call. You bounced up and down when the tones went off, like you usually do, and then quieted as we talked to the patient. But now your mommy is very, very tired, and she has a paper due, and needs to go crawl in bed next to your daddy and fall asleep. And he will kiss you goodnight and tell you that he loves you, and, hopefully, you will fall asleep quickly inside me, nice and warm and safe, and know, in your tiny unborn baby way, that you are so very much loved.

Momma

Baby update

We saw the baby this week. It looks like a baby now, instead of a blobby mass. We watched as it twisted and turned, rolled end over end. The doctor had a hard time catching the baby still enough for long enough to measure. My baby has two arms, and two legs, and a little head, and we watched as it sucked its thumb, which we have captured on the ultrasound pictures.

And we started making the decisions regarding prenatal testing; being me, I want everything under the sun, and early, so that if something were to be wrong, we would still be early enough in the pregnancy that appropriate decisions could be made. But in the end, we picked and chose through the prenatal testing(nothing invasive, unless a marker shows up regarding some form of birth defect), and made an appointment for December, and walked out with the doctor's confidence that this pregnancy will end in a healthy, beautiful baby.

My due date did change, though, to June 3rd, which is a little more in line with my dates. So I am 12 weeks pregnant, almost done with the first trimester. The nausea has lifted somewhat, though occasionally at night I still throw up if I haven't gotten a nap in. The tiredness and soreness is gone, too, so I'm getting back to exercising and school and keeping my house clean. And, of course, back to work...

What we do for fun

November 4, 2009

MONTEREY -- An underwater diver was rescued from a full water tower at the Monterey Correctional Facility early this afternoon.

He was working for a private contractor brought in to address problems with rust inside the tank.

Few details were immediately available this afternoon but the prison superintendent said the man got tangled in a series of lines and cables being used inside the tank.

The entire ordeal lasted over two hours, with the man trapped beneath the surface for about 75 minutes.

He was airlifted to Upstate Medical Center in Syracuse with unspecified injuries, although hypothermia from the length of time spent in the cold water was one of the concerns officials mentioned.

You can see the video here:

www.weny.com

Yes, that IS Rob and I bringing the ambulance in and then loading the patient into the helicopter.

Fire

This is how we rock,
This is how we roll










The best part? When you get on scene after flying twenty miles, and walk up to someone and ask if anyone has seen your husband, and the reply is, "Yeah, he's inside." And at that moment, over the radio, command starts yelling for everyone out, because it's about to flashover.
Yeah. Wonderful moment in the life of a firefighter's wife.
(A year from now, as long as I don't get pregnant again, I will be interior again. And then he can follow ME in)

Love and sacrifice

So apparently pregnancy makes one go crazy.

Besides the general pregnancy aching/nausea/insomnia, I have also developed a nasty head cold that I can't take anything for, because I am allergic to Tylenol, and all cold medicines approved for pregnant women include Tylenol.
And then three days ago I lost my anti-nausea pills and spent the next 72 hours hovering over the toilet and lying in bed. Fortunately, we got a rare mid-October snow storm here in upstate New York. I don't believe that there is a God-Who-Changes-Weather-Patterns-for-Me, but if there was, it could not have come at a better time. It snowed, I went to work up at the racetrack, and they cancelled the whole day since they couldn't put cars on a snowy track.
I told my husband this was the best thing that has ever happened to me, except for him, of course. I went home, took a bath, put my pajamas on, and went to bed for the rest of the day.
And then when I woke up(after my husband had gone on 2 EMS calls), it was late, and I was craving melons in the worst way, so my wonderful, dear, sweet husband went out in the cold and the night, bought me watermelon, cantalope, and honeydew. He then came home and cut them all up into biteable chunks for me to eat some and take some to work today.
Clearly, my husband is awesome.

He worked up at South Seneca Ambulance today(8am-midnight), and I was back at the track, so he got up, put my lunch together(just the melons), and we went to work. I have still been feeling like crap, and was hoping today was cancelled--no luck there. So I felt worse and worse all day, until finally we were done, I came home--and discovered the cat had thrown up or had diarrhea ALL OVER MY HOUSE.

Pre-pregnancy self would have yelled at the cat, grumbled about it and cleaned it up.
Pregnant self texted husband twice, called him once, and left him a message yelling that he shouldn't go on calls when I need to talk to him, (Irrational, yes, but that's the way I was feeling) since pretty much the only reason he won't answer my calls is he's either at a fire or with a patient.
And then I cleaned it up.

I think it's just the combination of being sick and pregnant and just plainly being worn down, but it's starting to feel like Rob is never home when I need him. He's home enough when I don't need him, but when everything is falling apart, he's at work. And, yes, he does work three jobs, and fire/EMS is not an especially family-friendly career.
And my suspicion is that if I asked, he would go do a 9-5 job somewhere--and hate it. And why would I want that? I was the one who pushed him to paramedic class, knowing full well the cost, since I was already a medic by then. I was the one who wrote the line in our wedding vows...
I promise to love you when love is easy, and when love is hard. When I need you, but you need to leave because someone else needs your help even more.

I knew, a hundred times over, what I was doing when I married a firefighter-paramedic.
And I love him so much, no matter how sick I get, no matter what I have to clean up when I get home from work. I see the sacrifices he makes for me(even, maybe picking up a few hours of my work shift tomorrow because I'm so sick, but don't want to call in), and I see how he treats his patients. We worked together on the ambulance long before we married, and I think that's what made me fall in love him--Rob's gentle, caring, compassionate ways towards his patients(the drunks at 2 am, maybe not so much).

So he'll be home tonight, and we have THREE DAYS OFF next week together...and we found my anti-nausea medicine. So now I'm going to take a warm bath, and put my pajamas on, and go to bed early.
He'll be home soon.