"sniff"

        Before I became an ICU nurse I unwittingly sojourned as 'RN supervisor' at a Nursing home.  I say unwittingly but really I mean unfortunately as it was two of the most trying months of my life, yet it proved to be an experience that would forever shape by journey as a nurse.  Nursing homes in the medical field are refereed to as "SNFs" pronounced like "sniff." Truly as sad and pathetic a sound as
it is a place, still I always try not to use this abbreviation and prefer to use the longer more obscure name of Skilled Nursing Facility, as if this will make atonement. My patients there taught me so much about what the end of a life can look like, some ushered it in with a type of dignity and gratitude, but others, and I am afraid most, approached it scratching and screaming. These people that lived in this Nursing Home that was ironically named The Beautiful House thought me so many lessons. They were characters every single one of them, and it was at the cost of getting screamed at by my 5 foot nothing dragon of a boss that I fought to give them each the best care I possibly could. In retrospect I never could have lasted there, not just because my nursing ambitions were calling me to acute care, but because I have never been able to look the other way in the face of sorrow.
I wrote this in my journal after quitting,
    "Yesterday was my last day at the nursing home. My experince there could be likened to a near drowning experience. Granted, I've never been in an actual sinking boat but I feel sure that's what it feels like - water rushing in faster than my hands can scoop it out. At some point I got my hands on a pail and it felt like i was matching the water, one gush in one pail out, slowing the sinking, but never getting ahead of it." It was here in this mire that I met some truly amazing people and most of them the people that worked along side me. Small red cheeked Maria who came straight from her other 8 hour shift to work the 3-11pm shift with me. Blunt and bossy Atim who told me one day in her solemn Nigerian accent, "I am always pleased when I see I am working with you, because I know you will help me to turn the patients." There was Ellen who although only being an LVN could have done my job better 5x over and ran circles around me. Tall and lanky Gabe the young RT who one time after being  loudly reprimanded by the nursing director in front of half the staff for some obscure error apologized so dramatically that even our fiery nursing director was left (for one blissful moment) speechless and totally embarrassed. I never knew if he was making an elaborate joke or was simply extraordinarily humble, but of course it doesn't matter I loved him for it either way. And then there was Veronica. Who was first described to me by a patient as "you know the one that used to be a dude" and was for me the most excellent CNA that I have ever met, always coming into work early, always covering short shifts, always picking up the slack for others and staying late, all while wearing the most extravagant make up and exuding buckets of sass. I found out later that she had got a full ride to UCLA for microbiology but left to figure out her sexuality. What I remember most about her was one day when she held the hand of my totally confused and agitated patient and gently yet firmly explained to her in Spanish that the nurse (aka me) had to place an IV. As I sweated over this IV placement, Veronica received a swift backhand from this surprisingly strong 80lb grandma. To my astonishment is was belting laughter that she met the blow with; we both laughed about it for what seemed like days. I didn't learn many nursing skills or much about critical thinking during my time working at this nursing home, but I did learn what it means to find happiness and humor even in the most frustrating circumstances. Life doesn't always drop us off where we expect to land. I know this now, working in the ICU, more than ever. I have patients whose normal lives have been interrupted by massive life changing events like car accidents, a stroke or a heart attack. With good medicine and good care these events don't have to be the end of life as they know it though. Sometimes it opens the eyes to the beauty of life around us; makes us truly thankful for each breath in, every minute with our loved ones, and every single precious day.