It's been a rough and wild road, but I think I'm getting somewhere here. I know where to find the portable oxygen tanks. I know what a barium swallow video looks like. I know how to disconnect a feeding tube. I know who to ask for a neuro-opthamologist consult. I know what a neuro-op does (well, kinda). And I know that while I've learned a lot, I still have a lot to learn. Last Friday, I got solo hijacked by a patient's family... "do you work with Mrs. F?" I was so excited to say yes and to get a chance to speak with them. That was how I felt right up until they asked, "So why isn't she spending any time out of bed? It's she going to develop bedsores?" I know that this question is well within the realm of OT and that I should be able to answer it, but the words just didn't come and in that moment "I don't know" didn't seem like an acceptable answer. I wanted a response that would exude my intellect, impress them with the wealth of OT knowledge. I wanted to not sound like an idiot. But instead I panicked. In my head I thought, "Oh no! Why isn't she out of bed!?! Isn't she going to develop bedsores?" And the more I fumbled through an answer, the more the concerned family member felt anxious about the situation. Luckily at that point, the case manager with years experience, walked in to speak with the family. I fielded the question to her and she immediately answered with a soothing harmonious response. It was nearly perfect. We all released a huge sigh of relief. Then I realized that her answer was my answer. Mrs. F isn't ready to sit up and out of bed yet. Her body is not able to support her in that position. Her brain is having trouble telling her body what to do. She would fall over sitting upright in a wheelchair. I knew it! And I did say some of that, but I just couldn't deliver with the confidence and credibility that the case manager did. In the end, the family was satisfied. I spent some more time with them and even invited them to visit my next treatment session with Mrs. F. They came and it was a good educational session. Hopefully their carryover will benefit Mrs. F's recovery which is coming along very slowly, complicated by her hallucinations and delirious behavior. But man she is fun to work with!
A note on Sailor Jerry, aka Mr. P. Last Friday I went to check the boards and noticed his name was gone. Read the chart which was in the discharge pile at the nurse's station. Pt. administered 6 ml morphine IV. All comfort measured in place. Expired 13:30. Wife, daughters, and Dr. W present. So that's it. He was right, he was my 1st dying patient. I'll always remember him. May you rest in peace now Mr. P.
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