The Best Nurses Day Gift: Enough Time With Patients

What's Left Behind, oil, graphite, and mixed media on wood panel. 18" by 18." Copyright J. Paradisi. What’s Left Behind, oil, graphite, and mixed media on wood panel. 18″ by 18.” Copyright J. Paradisi.

Julianna Paradisi, RN, OCN, writes a monthly post for this blog and works as an infusion nurse in outpatient oncology.

I can’t remember which handle on Twitter asked nurses last week for their stories about the best or worst Nurses Day gifts from their employers, so I will tell mine here. It began badly, but became the best.

Nurses Day in May is a cute little rhyme. In Oregon, where I live, May also brings hay fever allergy, which is neither cute nor rhymes, but like Nurses Day, is an annual event.

I woke up on the morning of Nurses Day with a headache and my voice hoarse from allergy. Previously, I had traded shifts to work this day in place of another nurse with an acutely hospitalized family member. If she and I were playing Rock, Paper, Scissors, her need was scissors to my paper.

Calling in sick was not an option. It’s part of the unwritten Nurse’s Code, which is really more of a guideline, but don’t test it. Calling in sick after agreeing to work for a coworker will not garner sympathy from your unit.

When I arrived for work, another nurse remarked that my hoarse voice sounded sexy, like actress Kathleen Turner’s. Despite my crankiness from inadequate respiratory gas […]

The Depression Project

By Marcy Phipps, RN, a regular contributor to this blog. Her essay, “The Love Song of Frank,” was published in the May (2012 issue) of AJN. She currently has an essay appearing in The Examined Life Journal.

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Lately, as a long-time runner, I can’t help but draw parallels between working on a nursing research project and training for a distance race set far in the future. Especially in the middle of a long run, when frazzled edges smooth out and clarity settles over me, the similarities between the two are striking. Both require inspiration and a goal, fluid planning and accommodation for the unexpected, and patience.

I casually refer to the nursing research project I’m involved in as “The Depression Project.” It was borne of concern among the ICU nurses about the mental states of the trauma patients in our unit. As the bedside care providers, we often come to know our patients very well; we don’t just care for these people, we sincerely care, and so we’re troubled when we observe, time and again, trauma patients who seem to lose the motivation to engage in their recoveries. They become flat and despondent; they lose hope.

It’s clear to the nurses that while the physical injuries sustained present enormous challenges, the emotional toll is sometimes just as debilitating—yet underestimated. And so we devised a study to illustrate the correlation of depression and recovery.

It’s […]

The Patient With No Name: When Nursing Illuminates Literature

By Marcy Phipps, RN, a regular contributor to this blog. Her essay, “The Love Song of Frank,” was published in the May issue of AJN. She doesn’t usually write about books in her posts, so we hope you enjoy this change of pace.

I didn’t know much about The English Patient when I picked it up recently at a library book sale—I only dimly recalled that the novel had been made into a movie I’d never seen. Since it was published by Michael Ondaatje in 1993, I can hardly blame a lack of time for my lapse. Yet I found myself glad I hadn’t read it until now, as my own nursing experiences suffused my reading of it, leaving me more deeply moved than I might have been otherwise.

The novel is set in the final days of World War II, in a bombed Italian villa that had served as a war hospital. As the story opens, the makeshift hospital has been recently evacuated, with patients and medical staff relocating to Pisa. One nurse remains, though—a young Canadian named Hana. Described as “shell-shocked” due to her experiences during the war, she refuses to leave the damaged hospital or a nameless English patient, who she insists is too fragile to be moved.

Other characters come […]

“Let Patients Help”: Nurses and e-Patients

Joy Jacobson is a health care journalist and the poet-in-residence at the Center for Health, Media, and Policy at Hunter College, where she teaches writing to nursing students.

In the March issue of AJN, a letter writer responds critically to my news report, “Leveling the Research Field Through Social Media,” published last October. My report summarizes some recent trends in medical research, including patients using Facebook and other social networking sites to push for the funding of research into treatments that the science may not support. I go on to discuss PatientsLikeMe, which describes itself as “a health data-sharing platform” designed to “transform the way patients manage their own conditions.”

The letter writer objects to the idea of patients sharing their own data online. Can vulnerable, mentally ill patients, she asks, consent to participate in online research? Is enough being done to safeguard them? “I suggest we disseminate information to nurses that helps them steer patients away from Web sites such as PatientsLikeMe,” she concludes, “until programs and processes are in place to better protect the public we’ve pledged to serve.”

Several PatientsLikeMe researchers responded to this nurse’s points; a synopsis of their responses was included along with the reader’s letter in the March issue. “What we are doing is new and as such should be scrutinized frequently and rigorously by peers to ensure we are meeting the ethical standards one would expect for our patients,” they write. “We believe our […]

Tilting the Earth

Elizabeth R. Plumer, PhD, JD, is a biochemist and intellectual property attorney. She lives in Saco, ME.

When an MRI revealed that my four-year-old daughter’s brain cancer had returned, I took the only action possible: I bought a dog. I scoured the Sunday papers and found just the puppy I was looking for, a Rottweiler. No deep psychological analysis was necessary to decipher my choice. I wanted a dog to protect my daughter from external threats, even if it could not protect her from the one threat that mattered most.

We named our puppy, Maggie, after Rod Stewart’s Maggie May, because from the moment she entered our lives, she stole our hearts. Maggie whimpered through that first night until I fell asleep on the couch with her gently snoring on my chest.

It was like having a newborn in the house again, and just as I had filled photo albums of my daughters, I took pictures of Maggie and my girls together. In one, taken the first summer we had her, Maggie lies in the shade beneath the swing set as if on sentry duty for my four-year-old and her seven-year-old sister. My girls hold steady on their swings and smile into the camera. The younger one wears one of my husband’s T-shirts over her bathing suit and sports a pixie haircut, […]

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