Sunday, April 10, 2011

The Mule



Revised version as it appears in Nursing 2012, November 2012 edition.



1993, New York.

The elderly Filipino woman was shaking when she was brought by the EMS paramedic to Triage. She clutched my hand, pleading in silence.

The EMS paramedic bypassed the other triage nurse and zeroed in on me, correctly guessing that his patient and I share the same ethnicity.

“We picked her up at the airport,” he told me. “Her plane had just arrived fromBrazil. The flight attendants noticed that she was very agitated and crying uncontrollably. It seems she’s traveling alone, but she won’t talk to us.”

Anybody’s grandma

She was in her late 60s, with gray hair and a stooped posture; she looked like anybody’s grandma. In fact, she looked a lot like my own departed grandma. She held tightly to her purse and her eyes filled with tears. My initial reaction was to pat her shoulder in a gesture of comfort. As I rubbed her back, I felt her tremble.

At that moment, two men in suits appeared and handcuffed “Grandma” to the stretcher. The narcotics agents informed us that she was suspected of swallowing condoms of cocaine and she had to be isolated from the general population. They planned to wait for her to pass the condoms. I hoped that the cocaine packets would remain intact. Rupture of the packets would result in severe intoxication, seizures, and death.

Her story was all too familiar. She was a drug courier—or, in the colloquial term, a “drug mule.” But she was much older than the couriers who’d come to our ED in the past. None of the other couriers I’d seen looked like “Grandma.”

In my naiveté, I wasn’t prepared to think of the possibility of my patient as a drug mule. As I looked at her in disbelief and disappointment, she averted her eyes. Thrown off by my preconceived notions of what a drug mule should look like, I couldn’t help but ask, “Why?” She kept her eyes closed, but tears ran down her cheeks.

The agents were frustrated with the lack of information. “We need to find the people who contracted her to carry the drugs,” they told me. Their interviews with the patient were met with silence. She looked afraid; she provided all the demographic data for the registrar but refused to give any contact information. Maybe she didn’t want to give any information for fear of repercussions.

Taking a turn for the worse

Suddenly she grimaced in pain as she pressed on her stomach with her free hand. Alarmed, I yelled for the physician STAT. The patient’s BP was rising and her heart rate was racing. I was afraid that the cocaine packets had burst inside her.

“How many packets did you swallow? Tell us, please!” The patient hesitated, but as she squirmed in pain again, she mumbled, “Ten.”

The next few minutes were frantic as we prepared to send her to the OR for exploratory surgery. We were racing against time.

As she was wheeled out of the room, she turned to me and said, “I did it for my family.”

No room for preconceptions

“Grandma” didn’t survive the surgery. As we later learned, she died because she needed money to pay for her daughter’s cancer treatment back home.

Although we’d expected it, the news of her death affected the ED nurses who knew about her story. Our stereotypical image of a drug mule shattered, we were also touched by her sacrifice for her daughter.

To what extent would you go to help a loved one? we asked ourselves. How tragic that our patient felt trapped by her circumstances and fell prey to the drug lords who took advantage of her need.

I learned an important lesson that day: No patient is stereotypical; as unique as we all are, we respond differently to the chaos in our lives. There’s no place for preconceptions in nursing. We should be able to rise above our personal feelings and take care of each patient the best we know how, without passing judgment.



Sunday, April 3, 2011

My Favorite Things in the ER




I said I will only be staying for two years. Either I am a glutton for punishment, or just have an insatiable lust for adrenaline rush, or I really do love the ER. Twenty years later, the ER had taken a stronghold on me and I would never ever think of going anywhere else.


These are my favorite things:

1. EXCITEMENT GALORE- Nothing boring about ER. Every day offers something new and surprising, or out of this world. Days pass quickly, and however we try to manage our time, there's always something that needs to be done (including a bathroom break).



2. QUIET INTERLUDES, although infrequent, and temporary, are greatly appreciated and much-needed after a hectic day. Empty stretchers in the hallway are a welcome sight. This precious respite from the usual bombardment of patients allows time to sneak to the bathroom, catch up on each others' lives, and the chance to spend more time with our patients. Grab the moment to breathe because it means that a busload of patients are coming soon to break the peace.




3. HAPPY DRUNKS make up for the aggravation of having to fight off the nasty drunks. One day, a happy drunk masqueraded like a Luciano Pavarotti. His booming and impassioned O Sole Mio was surprisingly well-modulated and brought a smile to everyone, including our Alzheimer's patient, who stopped squirming in his stretcher. Somehow the familiar melody broke through the cobwebs of his mind, and he joined our happy drunk in total harmony.



4. LIVES SAVED We lose some, but most of the time we snatch patients from the brink of death. A 17-year old patient should have been a vegetable after a cardiac arrest, but we cooled him down and saved his brain. Five days later, he walked out of the hospital with full neurological functioning, ready to plan dates with his girlfriend again.



5. A SOILED METS CAP. A 9-year old boy felled by a direct blow on his chest from a baseball. He recovered from Commotio Cordis and came back to the ED to thank the staff. Pedro was in full Mets uniform, his blood-stained Mets baseball cap clutched in his tiny hands.



6. THANK YOUS.- A hurried discharge from a harried doctor left a patient and her family bewildered and frustrated. I spent just a few minutes to explain the discharge instructions. And I got a hug and a sincere thank you.



7. BULGING VEINS. Nurses always have a euphoric response to bulging veins, the ones which bulge before you even apply a tourniquet. No 22-gauge angiocathethers, no need for a vein probe, no need to call our vein expert. Just that quick pop, a gentle slide into a vein and Yes, you're home.




8. ELDERLY COUPLE HOLDING HANDS. The hopeless romantic in me triumphs at the sight of one elderly couple who held hands as they patiently waited for the ambulette we ordered to return them home. The husband comforted his wife with the sprained ankle. He catered to her unspoken needs. The wife soothed the husband who was getting impatient with the wait. I enjoyed watching them, even as I felt envious for the experience of spending a lifetime with a soulmate.



9. BABIES. Sometimes, babies are too eager to see the world and could not wait for the delivery room on the 5th floor . When the mother announces. "The baby is coming out!", the ED stops in anticipation and waits with bated breath. When the baby wails, the staff breaks into applause and coos as the baby is placed in incubator. Always a happy sight. We've seen enough deaths, so a new life reaffirms our purpose in being.



10. TEAMWORK. When the going gets rough, the ED staff gets going. Way past their scheduled off if the ED gets a call of a mass casualty. We trudged through several feet of snow, dodged drunks along the way, and stumbled through black-out streets. We held hands as we gasped in disbelief and watched helplessly at the horrifying scenes of 9/11 as played on tv. And then together as a team, we prepared the ER for the victims who never came. We hugged each other, and worked side by side to care for the rest of our patients.