Other Random Thoughts
1. Baldness:
Yesterday, during my meeting with Nurse Jenn, she said something that totally surprised me. It was towards the end of my meeting, I was already redressed in a short sleeve shirt [which I despise by the way, but have to wear so they can access my arm.] Nurse Jenn looked at me with a small smile, her blue eyes very intense, and said, "You know this is only the second time that I can ever recall someone coming to chemo without a headcovering. The first time was just last week." What? People in the chemo infusion room don't go bald? I assumed that this was the safest place in the world to be bald!
2. Understanding
There were some new people in the infusion room yesterday. The family that I noticed the most was located in the next chair, and I would guess that they were Japanese. As expected from an Asian family, they had the curtain drawn tightly around the chair, but it sounded as though there were probably three family members congregated in there, and none of them spoke English. An interpreter arrived and the dialog was hard to believe. Whereas I can ask my nurse a host of questions, can be assured and informed all through the process, these people were given about 5 minutes of time. The nurse didn't know how to talk in a way that gave the interpreter enough information. She giggled too much. No one asked if they wanted a blanket, or if the patient was comfortable. So much of what makes me feel safe and cared for was missing from this very short dialog between the nurse and her patient because no one knew how to do this well. Later, another interpreter was used for a different family with better results, but it still wasn't enough.
3. Redesign
While the Cytoxan dripped into my veins, I felt stares. I looked up and indeed two women with perms were staring at me. Well, I am showing my baldness, okay they can stare. It was clear that they worked for the hospital since they wore landyards with ID, but they kept staring. It was beginning to feel rude. After about a half hour of staring went by, one of them approached me. "We are studying the space design of the cubicles," she said. "We weren't really staring at you."
"Would you be interested in what a patient thinks of the design?" I inquired. Reluctantly, she said "Yes." And so I was off to the races! The table attached to the chair isn't close to being big enough to actually use. It can hold either my water, or my book. Certainly not those two items plus my glasses case. And, most of us younger patients work. Couldn't we have a movable work table for our laptops? "Maybe when we buy new chairs," she stated. I said, "No no. The chairs are fine, we just need supplemental furniture on one side, allowing the nurse access to her cabinet. Cost $50 per infusion area tops." Though she looked like she had received way more into than she had ever expected, much less wanted, she thanked me before moving on.
4. Being Considerate
I arrived for my Neulasta shot early. Since we had to go to Costco for yet another prescription as well, we had left with plenty of time, just in case. As we walked into the hospital lobby, my stomach told me it was time to begin snack-preparation. We went to the lobby restaurant [Souper Soups] and bought a sandwich for the two of us to share, and then headed to the ninth floor. I was sent back to the treatment room almost immediately, 12:50 pm to be exact. My blood pressure was taken, and was MUCH lower today. Diagonally across from me was the same woman that I made laugh two weeks ago, and she waved. Straight ahead was someone new.
The new woman is an elegant woman, perhaps about 50. She looked petrified. Her drip was already started and I could see that she was cold. She was all alone. When the man with ice cream came around, she refused saying she was too cold. She asked her nurse to bring a blanket. "No problem," was the reply. Ten minutes passed, and she asked yet another person to bring a blanket. "Sure, just a sec."
When her primary nurse returned without a blanket, the woman said "My daughter dropped me off, and my husband will pick her up." Her eyes filled with tears. "I don't know how we are going to do this." At 1:30, Nurse Judy finally arrived filled with apologies since she was 30 minutes late. She was on the phone with Hospice, it had taken longer than expected.
"Judy, this woman across from me has asked for a blanket twice. She is cold, she is all alone, and she is petrified. It has been 25 minutes and she still doesn't have a blanket." Nurse Judy was pulling the Nuelasta out of the box. "I will take care of that right after your shot." I looked at Nurse Judy, "Or I will go do it right now, if that is what you want!" I laughed and said "That is what I want. I have all day if we need it."
And Nurse Judy was as good as her word. She went and got a warmed blanket, and opened it up and put it around this woman, who smiled at me and mouthed "thank you." My shot today hurt like hell for the first time. Isn't that a bummer?
Yesterday, during my meeting with Nurse Jenn, she said something that totally surprised me. It was towards the end of my meeting, I was already redressed in a short sleeve shirt [which I despise by the way, but have to wear so they can access my arm.] Nurse Jenn looked at me with a small smile, her blue eyes very intense, and said, "You know this is only the second time that I can ever recall someone coming to chemo without a headcovering. The first time was just last week." What? People in the chemo infusion room don't go bald? I assumed that this was the safest place in the world to be bald!
2. Understanding
There were some new people in the infusion room yesterday. The family that I noticed the most was located in the next chair, and I would guess that they were Japanese. As expected from an Asian family, they had the curtain drawn tightly around the chair, but it sounded as though there were probably three family members congregated in there, and none of them spoke English. An interpreter arrived and the dialog was hard to believe. Whereas I can ask my nurse a host of questions, can be assured and informed all through the process, these people were given about 5 minutes of time. The nurse didn't know how to talk in a way that gave the interpreter enough information. She giggled too much. No one asked if they wanted a blanket, or if the patient was comfortable. So much of what makes me feel safe and cared for was missing from this very short dialog between the nurse and her patient because no one knew how to do this well. Later, another interpreter was used for a different family with better results, but it still wasn't enough.
3. Redesign
While the Cytoxan dripped into my veins, I felt stares. I looked up and indeed two women with perms were staring at me. Well, I am showing my baldness, okay they can stare. It was clear that they worked for the hospital since they wore landyards with ID, but they kept staring. It was beginning to feel rude. After about a half hour of staring went by, one of them approached me. "We are studying the space design of the cubicles," she said. "We weren't really staring at you."
"Would you be interested in what a patient thinks of the design?" I inquired. Reluctantly, she said "Yes." And so I was off to the races! The table attached to the chair isn't close to being big enough to actually use. It can hold either my water, or my book. Certainly not those two items plus my glasses case. And, most of us younger patients work. Couldn't we have a movable work table for our laptops? "Maybe when we buy new chairs," she stated. I said, "No no. The chairs are fine, we just need supplemental furniture on one side, allowing the nurse access to her cabinet. Cost $50 per infusion area tops." Though she looked like she had received way more into than she had ever expected, much less wanted, she thanked me before moving on.
4. Being Considerate
I arrived for my Neulasta shot early. Since we had to go to Costco for yet another prescription as well, we had left with plenty of time, just in case. As we walked into the hospital lobby, my stomach told me it was time to begin snack-preparation. We went to the lobby restaurant [Souper Soups] and bought a sandwich for the two of us to share, and then headed to the ninth floor. I was sent back to the treatment room almost immediately, 12:50 pm to be exact. My blood pressure was taken, and was MUCH lower today. Diagonally across from me was the same woman that I made laugh two weeks ago, and she waved. Straight ahead was someone new.
The new woman is an elegant woman, perhaps about 50. She looked petrified. Her drip was already started and I could see that she was cold. She was all alone. When the man with ice cream came around, she refused saying she was too cold. She asked her nurse to bring a blanket. "No problem," was the reply. Ten minutes passed, and she asked yet another person to bring a blanket. "Sure, just a sec."
When her primary nurse returned without a blanket, the woman said "My daughter dropped me off, and my husband will pick her up." Her eyes filled with tears. "I don't know how we are going to do this." At 1:30, Nurse Judy finally arrived filled with apologies since she was 30 minutes late. She was on the phone with Hospice, it had taken longer than expected.
"Judy, this woman across from me has asked for a blanket twice. She is cold, she is all alone, and she is petrified. It has been 25 minutes and she still doesn't have a blanket." Nurse Judy was pulling the Nuelasta out of the box. "I will take care of that right after your shot." I looked at Nurse Judy, "Or I will go do it right now, if that is what you want!" I laughed and said "That is what I want. I have all day if we need it."
And Nurse Judy was as good as her word. She went and got a warmed blanket, and opened it up and put it around this woman, who smiled at me and mouthed "thank you." My shot today hurt like hell for the first time. Isn't that a bummer?
posted by *susan* at
12:38 AM
1 Comments:
I love your observations. Maybe what we see in the chemo suites are microcosms of how people live otherwise, except it's under pressure. Sometimes, though, people being human (i.e. blowing it) is hard. Your generosity shines.
Love,
gr
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Anonymous, at 11:31 PM
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