Come Into My Parlor

Amy Getter, MS, RN, lives in Eugene, Oregon, where, in her own words, she “works with people with life-limiting illness who are enrolled in a hospice wherever they consider ‘home.’”

by Ramon Peco/via Flickr by Ramon Peco/via Flickr

I fondly remember becoming acquainted with my first “parlor,” in a 100-year-old home that my family moved into during my teen years. The walls were dressed in faded, peeling, paisley-patterned wallpaper and a tarnished brass chandelier hung from the ceiling. French doors closed it away from the rest of the living area, giving it a slightly mysterious aura. Far-off city lights blinked at me from elongated paned windows. I immediately claimed it as my bedroom.

The word parlor (derived from the verb “to speak”) may have first been used in medieval monasteries. An “outer parlor” was designated for receiving outsiders and attending to business needs and the “inner parlor” was for the monks’ private use. During the mid-19th century, formal parlors evolved and could be found in homes like the one my family lived in.

Weddings, funerals (being “laid out”), and other social events occurred in the parlor. Home businesses emerged (such as “funeral parlors”—offering an option for laying out the deceased in someone else’s home!). In recent years, care of the infirm and preparation of the […]

A Breath of Fresh Air, Relatively Speaking

By Tara Duffy, RN. Tara is an RN at Strong Memorial Hospital in Rochester, NY, where she works in the Wilmont Cancer Center. 

I hear it, taste it, smell the construction to my left as I walk into the hospital. It is a sight for sore eyes—as in causing them, not soothing them—so I try to pay it little attention.

Her smile catches my attention. I have not seen it in weeks.

“I hear you got outside today?” I ask.

by utahwildflowers/via Flickr by utahwildflowers/via Flickr

The smile widens as I write my name on the whiteboard. She is a vibrant woman, full of life yet dying to be home.

“I did . . . it was greeeeaat,” she sighs.

I instantly envision the hospital surroundings—smokers circle at one exit, construction on the opposite.

“Where did you get to go?” I ask, hoping to learn of some hidden gems beyond these doors.

“Right out front,” she responds, matter-of-factly.

The construction site, I think to myself, instantly dismayed.

“It was sooo great.” Her smile surfaces again.

I suddenly realize she is speaking in relative terms.

“Just that fresh air,” she pauses as I envision the filth and ruckus, “was soooo nice.” She exhales deeply.

My smile widens with hers. I am instantly humbled. I manage an “I bet.” […]

Are You Glad Ariel Castro Is Dead?

Lorry Schoenly is a correctional nurse blogging at CorrectionalNurse.Net. This guest post is a modification of a recent post on her site. Follow her on Facebook or Twitter.

Ariel Castro's home in Cleveland, OH/Wikimedia Commons Ariel Castro’s home in Cleveland, OH/Wikimedia Commons

What were your first thoughts when you heard the news of convicted Ohio kidnapper and rapist Ariel Castro’s successful suicide while in protective custody in a state prison reception facility? Based on my Twitter and Facebook timelines, there have been a variety of responses in the public, nursing, and correctional health care communities. Many are glad that society is saved from the cost of caring for such a heinous criminal. Some are critical of the mental health and security oversights that led to this opportunity for self-injury. After all, Castro’s suicide potential score must have been off the chart. Fellow blogger and forensic psychiatrist Annette Hanson (@clinkshrink) provides a thoughtful post with her take on the subject: “Your Patient Died. Who Cares?”

This major news item is a reminder of the personal and professional conflict frequently experienced by those of us who care for criminals, many of whom are pretty unlovely, even monstrous, people. The very definition of professional nursing, however, requires us to […]

2016-11-21T13:06:32-05:00September 18th, 2013|Ethics, nursing perspective, Patients|3 Comments

My Supporting Role

In nursing as in acting, connecting is key.

The Actor, by Picasso/Wikimedia Commons

When I graduated from nursing school, I was given a pen, stethoscope, tape, and scissors. In my current practice as a pediatric nurse in acute care, I’ve found that it’s all too easy to let technology with all its conveniences and safety measures take center stage. I have a bedside computer, cell phone, and cardiac monitor, among many other technical tools.

Yet the importance of creating a therapeutic milieu for patients and families has remained unchanged. Now the challenge I have is how best to use technology as a prop and a backdrop and not as the main event, how to prevent data collection from creating a barrier between me and my patient.

Of course technology has many advantages. In the past, I had to spend long stretches of time away from the bedside, creating written medications sheets and care plans. I remember spending hours looking up each medication dose and side effects in reference books. Transcribing written doctor’s orders and medication information was an art form. Now we obtain the most current doctor’s order and medication information in seconds with a click of a button.

Making technology an asset, not an obstacle.

While these conveniences have given me more time […]

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 and talk about […]

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