conversations in a hospital #10

this is, by far, one of my most favourite patients ever.
a horribly sad story, she was almost killed by her brother and his girlfriend...they attempted murder and left her with a closed head injury, subdural hematoma, a gash in her neck so big that i'm surprised she's still alive, and ultimately a traumatic brain injury...
she has improved dramatically in the few months she's been here, but has gone between our trauma unit and the trauma/neuro ICU multiple times, near death, battling multiple infections, and the deepest pressure sores i have ever seen...
she is now eating and talking and moving, but is moody, sometimes agitated, sometimes tearful, confused as to place and time and generally everything, but i am sure that she has brief moments of lucidity...and she's just funny as all hell sometimes...
~

on initial assessment, trying to locate the pt's feet under a gazillion blankets:

me: where are your feet?
pt: i usually like to find them at the bottom of my ankles.

on the afterlife...

me: do you still talk to your mom?
pt: well she's dead, so it's a little difficult...of course, i still do sometimes

on italian heritage...
(which, by the way, she is not...but i am...and she seemed to be using random memories as her own experiences to share with me...too funny)

pt: i mean, how many pictures of an italian horse do i really need?

leaving the room:

pt: be careful!
me: why?
pt: it's crazy out there.

you know you're a nurse when...

as i was sleeping off my night shift last night i began dreaming of intermittent catheters and giving myself an IMC...only to wake up and realize i had to pee like crazy.

the hipster reigns supreme

it was all mustaches and mohawks at the hip hop show

"do you think his one speed is in the tour van?" bob asks (re: eyedea of eyedea & abilities).

i believe the correct nomenclature is fixed gear.

~
Music to my ears: themselves - the free houdini

eulogy to my nonna

did you smile when you saw the light?
did you finally give in...or had you been waiting?
the bittersweet irony of choking on chicoria. oh irony, how i love you so.
you make life worth living (dying for?)

my sweet sweet nonna.
i cried.
but i'm not sure if it was because society tells us to cry at death.
because really, with any faith, should we not be celebrating life?

say hi to nonno.
R.I.P.