Smelly ugly feet
make me cringe and want to gag,
I dress the wounds now.
Smelly man you stink
like BO and rotting jock
strap, use the damn soap
So I had this patient that obviously had some smelly feet and some nastiness going on. It was suspected that he had MRSA. And from the smell of the wounds I would agree. We're not even supposed to have MRSA patients on my unit because of the wee little ones and all the surgical patients. It's just too much risk for the patients. But he was on our unit nontheless. I dressed his wounds and took care of him.
But now it's slow so I wrote an Haiku for him.
3.16.2009
12.23.2008
A Random Rambling Update
It's the end of Decemeber and I can't remember the last time I posted anything. I suppose blogging just kind of lost it's appeal for a while. Or maybe it's more that I just haven't had anything of interest to say. Although, I'm not really sure I've ever had much of interest to say.
I'm looking back on the year and noticing the changes in myself. It's amazing. I've come a long way. I've officially been working as a nurse for just over a year now. I'm not sure how I did it but I finally found some confidence in my abilities. Time. Time always seems to help. That and mistakes. I've learned so much from my mistakes. It only takes one time to be yelled at by a doctor to figure out what not to do.
My insanity has finally found a nice quiet place in the background. It's like I've tamed it or something. Conquering the beast. Once in a while it flares up, gets a bit roudy but then it simmers down (totally makes me think of Saturday Night Live - Simmer Down Now).
So, yeah. That's all I have to report. That and the boyfriend is amazing. He's supported me through so much and has always been great about everything. He doesn't always understand what's going on with me but he's always there for me. It makes me just overjoyed. I've never known love like this. It's quite refreshing. And it makes me feel so much more secure in everything. Secure is good. Safe. Comforting.
Enough rambling for now. I should go back to work.
I'm looking back on the year and noticing the changes in myself. It's amazing. I've come a long way. I've officially been working as a nurse for just over a year now. I'm not sure how I did it but I finally found some confidence in my abilities. Time. Time always seems to help. That and mistakes. I've learned so much from my mistakes. It only takes one time to be yelled at by a doctor to figure out what not to do.
My insanity has finally found a nice quiet place in the background. It's like I've tamed it or something. Conquering the beast. Once in a while it flares up, gets a bit roudy but then it simmers down (totally makes me think of Saturday Night Live - Simmer Down Now).
So, yeah. That's all I have to report. That and the boyfriend is amazing. He's supported me through so much and has always been great about everything. He doesn't always understand what's going on with me but he's always there for me. It makes me just overjoyed. I've never known love like this. It's quite refreshing. And it makes me feel so much more secure in everything. Secure is good. Safe. Comforting.
Enough rambling for now. I should go back to work.
3.31.2008
Cleaning Up A Big Mess
Ages again since I've posted. I wasn't able to sit long enough to focus on the keystrokes. But now I am. Since the medicine. Yes, the medicine.
I saw the doctor finally. I'm not healed. I'll never be healed but I will be treated and that means I can have a nearly normal life. Isn't that grand? Nearly normal? What everyone dreams of, I suppose. Don't get me wrong; I'm not really complaining. I just thought it would turn out differently. Okay, I hoped it would. Secretly, deep down, I knew this would be how things turned out for me. It hasn't been easy for me. Nothing in life is easy, I know. I just kind of hoped things would be a little easier now that I've started my life. I have a this wonderful man that I want to settle down and grow old with, maybe even have - dare I say it- children. We're starting a life together. I want it to be perfect. I want to be the perfect little wife and make him incredibly happy. But I know that's not going to happen. It won't be perfect because we're not perfect. We are who we are. No more no less.
And therein lies my problem. I have no idea if I am the person I thought I was. For so long I thought I could trust myself but now I've found out that I've been partially mistaken. So how do I rebuild trust in myself? It's hard enough when it's someone else. Is there a book on this? A manual perhaps? I'm sure there's a half dozen on sale now if I just look on Amazon. I have faith that somehow this will turn out well. I will turn out well. It's just hard to keep the faith.
Though I've had this recent struggle, I've been living a wonderfully challenging life that has helped me grow and appreciate the little wonders in life.
I was floated the other night to a unit that accepts new admits and observation patients from the emergency department. It's the over flow unit and most of the patients there are on telemetry monitors for cardiac conditions. I'm not trained to handle cardiac conditions of this nature. In fact, I'm not even supposed to float until May. I'm "too new." But there on the list was "1W" written next to my scribble of a name. I grabbed up my things and proceeded to ask for directions to the unit. I had been there once during orientation to see the layout of the hospital. Months later and I still get turned around from time to time.
I walked the eerily quiet hallways to the unit. I badged in, secure unit. Kind of scary already.
Three nurses were running around and paid no attention to me. Two doctors were on the phones at the nurses station yelling at unseen parties. No doubt there had been some sort of confusion and orders were missed. I walked up to the one smiling face. I told him my name. "Two South, eh? Welcome. You can put your stuff back here and then get report from the nurses. We're getting three admits right now so you'd better hurry."
Three admits now? Change of shift? What the he-
My thought was interrupted by the sight of a familiar face. A nurse from my own unit. She was frazzled beyond anything I had seen when she was on our unit. The pit of my stomach dropped. She's been here for years and she's at her wit's end. What can I do? Yikes! I threw my stuff down and looked at the board for my assignment. Four patients here and one admit. I can do that. No big deal. Except my admit was already here and slightly different. She was direct. Not from the emergency department. The doctor sent her and no one knew why. She had been waiting for almost an hour and no one had a clue why she was in the hospital. Not so great. The nurse before me took over. She gathered the information I needed and helped me get things together. I had another patient I was transferring up to another unit. Her name was familiar.
I dove in, head first, one thing at a time. Priorities, that's what they taught us in school. My transfer needed to go. But first she needed some blood work done and an antibiotic. I checked in on her. Her smiling face was familiar. I had just had her as a patient a week ago. The poor thing had fallen at home and smashed her skull open. More staples than I have fingers sealed her scalp shut. When last I saw her she had the most ridiculous looking dressing on her head. It reminded me of the gaudy hats women wore ages ago. Big feathers and fluff. She just had the fluff and a band around her chin.
She was looking much better now. Except her leg was now infected. When she fell her leg also broke her fall. Swollen to twice it's normal size, it was wrapped in a large bandage. This was serious. I felt so awful for her. She had already spent her birthday in the hospital. Now this. I talked to her briefly through a mask. To top it all off she was on isolation as a precaution for a more serious infection, MRSA. It's been in the news so much as of late. I explained what the plan of care was for her and started on her paperwork.
I stopped in quickly to see my four other patients. Everyone was getting ready for bed. They were all ill and quite tired from the activities of the day. It doesn't help that the staff is in every two to four hours checking on them. Who can really sleep well in such a situation?
The night was so busy I barely sat long enough to take a phone call from a doctor. I ran from one room to another passing pills and pushing IV medications. No one was available to take my patient up to her room so I took her up myself. Three bags, one IV pole, a cane, and her clothes all in a wheelchair with her. Not the most graceful transfer ever but I did get her to her room without running her into the wall. Success!
Getting back to the unit as quickly as possible, I picked up another patient to replace the transfer. Our sister hospital was now on bypass, meaning they were no longer taking patients. They were full. This means tons more work for us. I now had 6 patients, which is my normal when I'm on my unit. But these patients were different. I had everything from severe back pain to alcohol detox to deep vein thrombosis to heart attack and stroke. Not an easy case load. Usually I have hip and knee replacements. I muddled through stopping to ask where supplies were and how to read monitors. Most of my patients were wonderful. They were just ready for sleep and happy to have a nurse that listened. So often we run in the room and run out without listening to a single thing people say. It's a sad truth. There just isn't the time sometimes.
The evening never really did calm down for anyone. There was an hour break when we were able to catch up on charting. Peace. Peace in charting. Who would have thought? Morning came quickly. I passed more meds and gave report to the next shift wishing them luck.
I left wondering, had I done everything I possibly could have to make my patients comfortable and safe? Was there anything I had left out of my charting that would lose a case in the court of law? That's something they've been pushing a lot of lately. Law. Not charted, not done. Did I chart everything. I drove home in a daze. Just when I was feeling a little more upset about the evening, a text came rang my phone.
"Good morning, love. How was your evening?"
Just that was enough to make it all better. It was day. The next day. I made it through the night and I was fine. No one died. No one suffered. I did the best I could with what I had. And now, the love of my life was thinking of me, hoping I was fine. It could have been worse. But it wasn't. It was just as much as I could handle.
A lesson learned. I only get as much as I can handle. Even when I think I can't, I do. I always make it through because that's what I'm here to do. Get through and be better in the end.
I saw the doctor finally. I'm not healed. I'll never be healed but I will be treated and that means I can have a nearly normal life. Isn't that grand? Nearly normal? What everyone dreams of, I suppose. Don't get me wrong; I'm not really complaining. I just thought it would turn out differently. Okay, I hoped it would. Secretly, deep down, I knew this would be how things turned out for me. It hasn't been easy for me. Nothing in life is easy, I know. I just kind of hoped things would be a little easier now that I've started my life. I have a this wonderful man that I want to settle down and grow old with, maybe even have - dare I say it- children. We're starting a life together. I want it to be perfect. I want to be the perfect little wife and make him incredibly happy. But I know that's not going to happen. It won't be perfect because we're not perfect. We are who we are. No more no less.
And therein lies my problem. I have no idea if I am the person I thought I was. For so long I thought I could trust myself but now I've found out that I've been partially mistaken. So how do I rebuild trust in myself? It's hard enough when it's someone else. Is there a book on this? A manual perhaps? I'm sure there's a half dozen on sale now if I just look on Amazon. I have faith that somehow this will turn out well. I will turn out well. It's just hard to keep the faith.
Though I've had this recent struggle, I've been living a wonderfully challenging life that has helped me grow and appreciate the little wonders in life.
I was floated the other night to a unit that accepts new admits and observation patients from the emergency department. It's the over flow unit and most of the patients there are on telemetry monitors for cardiac conditions. I'm not trained to handle cardiac conditions of this nature. In fact, I'm not even supposed to float until May. I'm "too new." But there on the list was "1W" written next to my scribble of a name. I grabbed up my things and proceeded to ask for directions to the unit. I had been there once during orientation to see the layout of the hospital. Months later and I still get turned around from time to time.
I walked the eerily quiet hallways to the unit. I badged in, secure unit. Kind of scary already.
Three nurses were running around and paid no attention to me. Two doctors were on the phones at the nurses station yelling at unseen parties. No doubt there had been some sort of confusion and orders were missed. I walked up to the one smiling face. I told him my name. "Two South, eh? Welcome. You can put your stuff back here and then get report from the nurses. We're getting three admits right now so you'd better hurry."
Three admits now? Change of shift? What the he-
My thought was interrupted by the sight of a familiar face. A nurse from my own unit. She was frazzled beyond anything I had seen when she was on our unit. The pit of my stomach dropped. She's been here for years and she's at her wit's end. What can I do? Yikes! I threw my stuff down and looked at the board for my assignment. Four patients here and one admit. I can do that. No big deal. Except my admit was already here and slightly different. She was direct. Not from the emergency department. The doctor sent her and no one knew why. She had been waiting for almost an hour and no one had a clue why she was in the hospital. Not so great. The nurse before me took over. She gathered the information I needed and helped me get things together. I had another patient I was transferring up to another unit. Her name was familiar.
I dove in, head first, one thing at a time. Priorities, that's what they taught us in school. My transfer needed to go. But first she needed some blood work done and an antibiotic. I checked in on her. Her smiling face was familiar. I had just had her as a patient a week ago. The poor thing had fallen at home and smashed her skull open. More staples than I have fingers sealed her scalp shut. When last I saw her she had the most ridiculous looking dressing on her head. It reminded me of the gaudy hats women wore ages ago. Big feathers and fluff. She just had the fluff and a band around her chin.
She was looking much better now. Except her leg was now infected. When she fell her leg also broke her fall. Swollen to twice it's normal size, it was wrapped in a large bandage. This was serious. I felt so awful for her. She had already spent her birthday in the hospital. Now this. I talked to her briefly through a mask. To top it all off she was on isolation as a precaution for a more serious infection, MRSA. It's been in the news so much as of late. I explained what the plan of care was for her and started on her paperwork.
I stopped in quickly to see my four other patients. Everyone was getting ready for bed. They were all ill and quite tired from the activities of the day. It doesn't help that the staff is in every two to four hours checking on them. Who can really sleep well in such a situation?
The night was so busy I barely sat long enough to take a phone call from a doctor. I ran from one room to another passing pills and pushing IV medications. No one was available to take my patient up to her room so I took her up myself. Three bags, one IV pole, a cane, and her clothes all in a wheelchair with her. Not the most graceful transfer ever but I did get her to her room without running her into the wall. Success!
Getting back to the unit as quickly as possible, I picked up another patient to replace the transfer. Our sister hospital was now on bypass, meaning they were no longer taking patients. They were full. This means tons more work for us. I now had 6 patients, which is my normal when I'm on my unit. But these patients were different. I had everything from severe back pain to alcohol detox to deep vein thrombosis to heart attack and stroke. Not an easy case load. Usually I have hip and knee replacements. I muddled through stopping to ask where supplies were and how to read monitors. Most of my patients were wonderful. They were just ready for sleep and happy to have a nurse that listened. So often we run in the room and run out without listening to a single thing people say. It's a sad truth. There just isn't the time sometimes.
The evening never really did calm down for anyone. There was an hour break when we were able to catch up on charting. Peace. Peace in charting. Who would have thought? Morning came quickly. I passed more meds and gave report to the next shift wishing them luck.
I left wondering, had I done everything I possibly could have to make my patients comfortable and safe? Was there anything I had left out of my charting that would lose a case in the court of law? That's something they've been pushing a lot of lately. Law. Not charted, not done. Did I chart everything. I drove home in a daze. Just when I was feeling a little more upset about the evening, a text came rang my phone.
"Good morning, love. How was your evening?"
Just that was enough to make it all better. It was day. The next day. I made it through the night and I was fine. No one died. No one suffered. I did the best I could with what I had. And now, the love of my life was thinking of me, hoping I was fine. It could have been worse. But it wasn't. It was just as much as I could handle.
A lesson learned. I only get as much as I can handle. Even when I think I can't, I do. I always make it through because that's what I'm here to do. Get through and be better in the end.
2.05.2008
If I Say Stop, Will It?
My head is stuffed again. I don't know how to keep it clear and organized. My usual tactics no longer seem to work.
I left for work last night not feeling quite myself. Something was amiss before he had even stopped by my house.
"Do you ever have doubts about me?"
The question had escaped my lips before I had even realized it. I had been thinking about what a friend had been saying about his girlfriend. The moment the words had left my lips I wanted to suck them back in, retract them, keep them from entering his ears. But I couldn't. He paused and and answered. And of course, I didn't really want to hear the answer in the first place, but the fact he said "yes" bothered me even more. I had nothing to say. In the middle of my chest I felt my heart sink and my stomach flipped. Paralyzed by shock I sat there, curled up in his arms with my head resting on his shoulder. I wanted to pull away. That little voice (that usually tends to be a bit of a bitch) was screaming in my head sit up and stare him in the eye. But I couldn't. Nothing would move. I'm not even sure if I had taken another breath. Everything seemed to stand still.
If I'm perfectly honest with myself, I know that I, too, have had doubts in the past. History has taught me that I just don't seem to work well in relationships. This is the best relationship I've ever had in my life. It couldn't be more ideal and perfect. We have our difficulties. But we always make it through. We never really fight except when it's time to figure out dinner plans. Neither of us will make a decision. Deep down, my worry is me. Not him. Am I good enough? Am I healthy enough? Can we survive my issues? Will my health keep us from growing old together?
I guess I'll only know in time.
That just doesn't sit well with me, though. I've never felt so comfortable with someone. I give 100% and, amazingly, he does just the same. We support each other so well. In almost every way I can think of, we make a great pair. He's everything I ever wanted and all I ever dreamed, a littl bit of everything.
I never wanted to need someone. Up until now, I didn't think I really needed him. I can survive without him. Life will go on. The sun will rise and the Earth will turn just as it did before he was a part of my life. I just think I'll feel lost without him. He's so much a part of me I would feel as if my arm were missing. Or my leg. My chest would be hollow.
Of course, this is all crazy talk. Per my usual. As far as I know, he hasn't gone anywhere and he may not even have a clue that I'm worried. Though, I'm always worried so I'm sure he just assumes I'm worried about something.
Enough is enough. It's time to see the doctor. I can't keep doing this. It's really wearing on me and I can't imagine what it's doing to those around me.
I left for work last night not feeling quite myself. Something was amiss before he had even stopped by my house.
"Do you ever have doubts about me?"
The question had escaped my lips before I had even realized it. I had been thinking about what a friend had been saying about his girlfriend. The moment the words had left my lips I wanted to suck them back in, retract them, keep them from entering his ears. But I couldn't. He paused and and answered. And of course, I didn't really want to hear the answer in the first place, but the fact he said "yes" bothered me even more. I had nothing to say. In the middle of my chest I felt my heart sink and my stomach flipped. Paralyzed by shock I sat there, curled up in his arms with my head resting on his shoulder. I wanted to pull away. That little voice (that usually tends to be a bit of a bitch) was screaming in my head sit up and stare him in the eye. But I couldn't. Nothing would move. I'm not even sure if I had taken another breath. Everything seemed to stand still.
If I'm perfectly honest with myself, I know that I, too, have had doubts in the past. History has taught me that I just don't seem to work well in relationships. This is the best relationship I've ever had in my life. It couldn't be more ideal and perfect. We have our difficulties. But we always make it through. We never really fight except when it's time to figure out dinner plans. Neither of us will make a decision. Deep down, my worry is me. Not him. Am I good enough? Am I healthy enough? Can we survive my issues? Will my health keep us from growing old together?
I guess I'll only know in time.
That just doesn't sit well with me, though. I've never felt so comfortable with someone. I give 100% and, amazingly, he does just the same. We support each other so well. In almost every way I can think of, we make a great pair. He's everything I ever wanted and all I ever dreamed, a littl bit of everything.
I never wanted to need someone. Up until now, I didn't think I really needed him. I can survive without him. Life will go on. The sun will rise and the Earth will turn just as it did before he was a part of my life. I just think I'll feel lost without him. He's so much a part of me I would feel as if my arm were missing. Or my leg. My chest would be hollow.
Of course, this is all crazy talk. Per my usual. As far as I know, he hasn't gone anywhere and he may not even have a clue that I'm worried. Though, I'm always worried so I'm sure he just assumes I'm worried about something.
Enough is enough. It's time to see the doctor. I can't keep doing this. It's really wearing on me and I can't imagine what it's doing to those around me.
1.13.2008
A New Year.... Where Will It Lead
2008. Wow. My first entry in months. Well, not totally true. There are a couple other entries but I didn't post them. Just too personal. So the question is, where have I been?
Well, I've been here. Sort of. Things are great and not great. Work is wonderful. I love my pediatric patients. I like my ortho patients too. And let's not forget about the gyne patients.... well, they're not all bad. On a rare occasion we get a medical that's really a psych. That just makes life interesting. It reminds me how much I love psych. One day... I'll go that route. Not just yet though.
Work is taking a lot of my time. My schedule has been all over the place. I have so much going on. And I'm finally getting my life in some sort of order. I spend my spare time, when I have any with my family and the few friends I still see, and of course the love of my life.
I've been going through a rough patch. I'm in the process of getting some medical attention for a few things. Luckily my health insurance just started so that works out. It's been pretty tough but I have a great support system. My boyfriend has been amazing. He's new to some of this. At least, he's never had to deal with it on a personal level. He has his patients but it's always different when it's family. My parents are really great and they really help me out. I don't know what I'd do without them. I do know. It's just not a pretty thought.
Dark days. That's how it's been. And patches of the most beautiful weather you could ever imagine. I miss the days in between. The ones with morning showers and clear blue skies in the afternoon. I want a happy medium. I had it once but now it's gone. The black clouds snuck upon me and blocked everything out. I didn't realize it had happened until it was too late. I looked around and somehow had managed to push almost everyone away. Nothing seemed good and everything was impossible. Que triste, no? And then suddenly the sun was shinning and the skies were the bluest I had ever seen them. I could leap from the ground up into the sky and touch the puffy white clouds. I could soar with the birds. Anything was possible.
In mid flight I began to fall, crashing into the ground. Everything hurt and I remembered how awful things are. And everything went wrong again.
And now I teeter between the two. No happy middle. At least not for long. One extreme to the next. I can't seem to control the pendulum. For now, I have to trust those closest to me to help with that. Help. It's one of the most difficult words for me to say. I don't like that I can't do it on my own. I should be able to take anything. I know I can't. But I feel like I should. Why does asking for help feel so much like failure? I don't understand.
Well, I've been here. Sort of. Things are great and not great. Work is wonderful. I love my pediatric patients. I like my ortho patients too. And let's not forget about the gyne patients.... well, they're not all bad. On a rare occasion we get a medical that's really a psych. That just makes life interesting. It reminds me how much I love psych. One day... I'll go that route. Not just yet though.
Work is taking a lot of my time. My schedule has been all over the place. I have so much going on. And I'm finally getting my life in some sort of order. I spend my spare time, when I have any with my family and the few friends I still see, and of course the love of my life.
I've been going through a rough patch. I'm in the process of getting some medical attention for a few things. Luckily my health insurance just started so that works out. It's been pretty tough but I have a great support system. My boyfriend has been amazing. He's new to some of this. At least, he's never had to deal with it on a personal level. He has his patients but it's always different when it's family. My parents are really great and they really help me out. I don't know what I'd do without them. I do know. It's just not a pretty thought.
Dark days. That's how it's been. And patches of the most beautiful weather you could ever imagine. I miss the days in between. The ones with morning showers and clear blue skies in the afternoon. I want a happy medium. I had it once but now it's gone. The black clouds snuck upon me and blocked everything out. I didn't realize it had happened until it was too late. I looked around and somehow had managed to push almost everyone away. Nothing seemed good and everything was impossible. Que triste, no? And then suddenly the sun was shinning and the skies were the bluest I had ever seen them. I could leap from the ground up into the sky and touch the puffy white clouds. I could soar with the birds. Anything was possible.
In mid flight I began to fall, crashing into the ground. Everything hurt and I remembered how awful things are. And everything went wrong again.
And now I teeter between the two. No happy middle. At least not for long. One extreme to the next. I can't seem to control the pendulum. For now, I have to trust those closest to me to help with that. Help. It's one of the most difficult words for me to say. I don't like that I can't do it on my own. I should be able to take anything. I know I can't. But I feel like I should. Why does asking for help feel so much like failure? I don't understand.
10.15.2007
Slacker
Again, I've been slacking.
Life took hold of me and I lost sight of some things. Blogging being one of them.
I've sat for my state boards. I passed. Hooray. I found a job. Hooray! I'll be working in a smaller town. I have a nursing position in a pediatric/orthopedic unit. I start November 12th. I'm really very exicted.
All the pieces are falling into place. Things I hadn't counted on working out are.
It seems like I have so much to say, so much to update, so much to spill out over blank screen in front of me. I just haven't the time nor the ability. Soon. I've scheduled some time Saturday morning. I may even have some time tomorrow afternoon after I do my HR paper work and physical.
Often I've written of the dips. This is one of the highs. Just when I think I've reached the peak and life is going to take me down a stomach-flipping dip, I find I go a little higher. I'm always amazed. There really never is a dull moment in my life.
Life took hold of me and I lost sight of some things. Blogging being one of them.
I've sat for my state boards. I passed. Hooray. I found a job. Hooray! I'll be working in a smaller town. I have a nursing position in a pediatric/orthopedic unit. I start November 12th. I'm really very exicted.
All the pieces are falling into place. Things I hadn't counted on working out are.
It seems like I have so much to say, so much to update, so much to spill out over blank screen in front of me. I just haven't the time nor the ability. Soon. I've scheduled some time Saturday morning. I may even have some time tomorrow afternoon after I do my HR paper work and physical.
Often I've written of the dips. This is one of the highs. Just when I think I've reached the peak and life is going to take me down a stomach-flipping dip, I find I go a little higher. I'm always amazed. There really never is a dull moment in my life.
8.29.2007
Sixteen Solid Pounds
The storms caused a bit of flood in our basement. I was cleaning. Seems like all I ever do these days. Tons of papers had to be tossed away. I unboxed and reboxed many old artifacts. I wrapped memories in tissue paper and tucked them neatly into containers of packing peanuts. The pile for donation to charity was almost as large as the pile to send to the storage locker. Finally my life was coming together. I felt lighter and a bit more free.
I picked up a box to get to the child's rocking chair beneath it. Suddenly the bottom fell through and there was a thud. I stood there stunned for a moment. Then there was the pain. Like a flash. My father yelled down to me, "Are you okay?" I quickly sat down in the chair a few steps away. "I don't know," I replied with genuine uncertainty. The pain had subsided but I felt strange. I slid my shoe off and began pulling my sock off. Red trickled down my foot. "No, I'm not. Please bring ice now!" My brother stepped to my side and my father looked down. Instinctively I held my hand over my toe, guarding it from them. I couldn't feel the pain at the moment but I was sure it would come any minute. The great toe on my right foot took the brunt of the force from the sixteen pound bowling ball that had been in the water-logged box.
My brother helped me up two flights of stairs. I felt weak and a bit light headed. I made it to my bed and my father and mother quickly went to work on my foot. My brother held my hand and cracked jokes, that were actually quite funny, to keep me distracted. There was no way to tell if my toe was broken at the moment. There was too much blood. My pretty pedicure was ruined for sure. The least of my worries. The matrix of the nail, the very base under the cuticle was now exposed. The nail was still attached at the sides and a bit in the middle. My parents cleaned the wound and medicated me. I tried to stay calm and help. My body wouldn't stop shaking. Shock. I could tell you the pathophysiology of what was happening to me. In all the pain and commotion I managed to get my brother to take pictures. I know, I'm odd. It's okay.
That was Monday evening. I've been home since then with my foot elevated. I clean the wound twice a day. I still can't tolerate any weight on the foot. Tomorrow is a trip to urgent care. My boyfriend seems to think I should have gone the first night. I thought I'd be fine. The problem is, it's still bleeding. It's still swollen and we need to be sure it's not broken. I don't have health insurance. This isn't going to be cheap. There's sure to be X-rays and pain medication and all that. And they'll probably want to remove the nail. Did I mention it may not grow back considering the amount of damage done to the root? Do you think a press-on nail will look too ridiculous? Just when I was starting to get into the whole girly thing of wearing open toed shoes and pedicures and what-not!
Darvocet and crutches are my friends the past few days. In fact, I've just had some pain medication now. My head is starting to feel fuzzy and my toe is throbbing a little less. I'd share the photos but they're far too icky. I'm sure it would look worse if the nail hadn't been painted.
Seriously, I'm a walking - or hobbling- accident waiting to happen.
I picked up a box to get to the child's rocking chair beneath it. Suddenly the bottom fell through and there was a thud. I stood there stunned for a moment. Then there was the pain. Like a flash. My father yelled down to me, "Are you okay?" I quickly sat down in the chair a few steps away. "I don't know," I replied with genuine uncertainty. The pain had subsided but I felt strange. I slid my shoe off and began pulling my sock off. Red trickled down my foot. "No, I'm not. Please bring ice now!" My brother stepped to my side and my father looked down. Instinctively I held my hand over my toe, guarding it from them. I couldn't feel the pain at the moment but I was sure it would come any minute. The great toe on my right foot took the brunt of the force from the sixteen pound bowling ball that had been in the water-logged box.
My brother helped me up two flights of stairs. I felt weak and a bit light headed. I made it to my bed and my father and mother quickly went to work on my foot. My brother held my hand and cracked jokes, that were actually quite funny, to keep me distracted. There was no way to tell if my toe was broken at the moment. There was too much blood. My pretty pedicure was ruined for sure. The least of my worries. The matrix of the nail, the very base under the cuticle was now exposed. The nail was still attached at the sides and a bit in the middle. My parents cleaned the wound and medicated me. I tried to stay calm and help. My body wouldn't stop shaking. Shock. I could tell you the pathophysiology of what was happening to me. In all the pain and commotion I managed to get my brother to take pictures. I know, I'm odd. It's okay.
That was Monday evening. I've been home since then with my foot elevated. I clean the wound twice a day. I still can't tolerate any weight on the foot. Tomorrow is a trip to urgent care. My boyfriend seems to think I should have gone the first night. I thought I'd be fine. The problem is, it's still bleeding. It's still swollen and we need to be sure it's not broken. I don't have health insurance. This isn't going to be cheap. There's sure to be X-rays and pain medication and all that. And they'll probably want to remove the nail. Did I mention it may not grow back considering the amount of damage done to the root? Do you think a press-on nail will look too ridiculous? Just when I was starting to get into the whole girly thing of wearing open toed shoes and pedicures and what-not!
Darvocet and crutches are my friends the past few days. In fact, I've just had some pain medication now. My head is starting to feel fuzzy and my toe is throbbing a little less. I'd share the photos but they're far too icky. I'm sure it would look worse if the nail hadn't been painted.
Seriously, I'm a walking - or hobbling- accident waiting to happen.
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