About Amanda Anderson, MPA, MSN, RN

Amanda Anderson is a PhD candidate and research project assistant at the State University of New York University at Buffalo School of Nursing and a fellow in Clinical Scholars, a national leadership program supported by the Robert Wood Johnson Foundation. She is also on the editorial board of AJN.

Delirium at the Hands of Nurses

by Augustin Ruiz, via Flickr by Augustin Ruiz, via Flickr

Amanda Anderson, BSN, RN, CCRN, works as a nurse in New York City and is pursuing a master’s in administration from Hunter-Bellevue Scahool of Nursing at Hunter College. Her last post for this blog was “A Hurricane Sandy Bed Bath.”

Leo is young but I’ve cared for him in the ICU many times. It’s late, but he’s awake, talking, in a voice like Kermit the Frog’s. My eyes traverse the path between his, the patch of hair beneath his moving lips, and the newly healed trach site on his neck. He is too long for the bed frame that supports him—we’ve taken off the footboard, and his big feet stick out from the white blanket over his legs.

Tonight, Leo is stable, but this hasn’t always been the case; I’ve known him since the beginning, months and months ago. A long and nasty alcohol addiction led to a bad case of pancreatitis and multiple interventions to save his life. The saving is what I’m most familiar with—the sedated, unstable, intubated, tenuous Leo, not this chatty, relaxed, stable Leo.

Leo is my only patient tonight, a rarity in a busy urban hospital. The unit is empty and slow, not much care to give, nothing requiring immediate attention. So, I sit with him […]

2016-11-21T13:06:35-05:00September 11th, 2013|nursing perspective, Patients|2 Comments
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A Hurricane Sandy Bed Bath

Amanda Anderson, BSN, RN, CCRN, works as an intensive care nurse in New York City and is pursuing a master’s in administration from Hunter-Bellevue School of Nursing at Hunter College.

Hurricane Sandy/NASA Goddard photo Hurricane Sandy/NASA Goddard photo

When Hurricane Sandy hit, the bloated feeling from snack and rom-com binging proved my deepest suffering. Safe, dry, and bored on Manhattan’s Upper West Side, I was little harmed by the storm. My commute across the park proved adventuresome, but I slept in my own bed; I had a bed.

As the city calmed in the weeks following, I watched my fellow New Yorkers erupt in volunteer revolutions. Feeling guilty about my idle skills, I signed up with New York City Department of Health’s Medical Reserve Corps, the organization staffing emergency shelters.

On my scheduled morning, I arrived to find the clinic behind an old door marked with a handwritten sign that said “Medical.” Inside, a crowded group of older professionals—MDs, NPs, social workers—listened as a frazzled and tired pediatrician gave shift report.

Few medical needs plagued the shelter, but one reported client stuck out—a feisty octogenarian evacuee, Ms. E. Her lengthy medication list suggested cardiac problems, and her arthritic frame limited her mobility. Stairs were out of the question.

Report dragged on. I left to find […]

2016-11-21T13:06:56-05:00July 24th, 2013|Nursing|3 Comments
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