The sun sets and the night rolls in and for most of the world around us, it’s just another work day ending with dinner on the table and catch-up chores or a little TV before bedtime.
Not so on a critical care cancer floor.
Bells, whistles, toots, beeps, footsteps and worry…a lot of night music as the hour hand moves so slowly. There is no down time on this floor. Critical care doctors, nurses, technicians are no less intense on the other side of the clock. In fact, with illness and cancer is no different, the body seems to be more vulnerable in the wee hours of the night.
Caregivers huddle in corners of their loved ones’ rooms. They curl-up on a chair meant for sitting, but this night, they bend and shape their body until it mimics a resting pose and they try to get some sleep. Critical care floors are not meant for sleep: not for the patient or the caregiver.
The experts visit constantly. One taking vials of blood, another taking vitals, another recalibrating an IV pump or changing out an empty bag of medicine. It’s a constant visitation and it needs to be, for the welfare of the patient. My recollections of these kinds of nights are clear and I experienced another last night and I can tell you nothing has changed in the last few years.
It’s the sounds that stay with me. Tearing open sealed instruments, the sounds of Velcro opening on a padded leg boot or the gentle unfolding of a sterile gown.
I doubt these sounds will ever change. It is the symphony of cancer and care. A lot of night music fills the air.
August 31, 2011 @ 8:46 am
Ahh music.. The poetry of the air. 🙂
August 26, 2011 @ 11:37 am
After leaving the hospital I could still hear, smell and almost feel the things that were literally my whole life while I was in there.
I really, truly understand what you mean by that night music, although for most of the people who have heard it, it does not really carry a pleasant tune…
August 25, 2011 @ 5:10 pm
I recall “the night music” when I spent 4 nights with my wife after her triple bypass. I often wonder what really happens to patients who don’t have someone stay with them through the night. We discovered after 3 nights that the “nurse call” button as well as the “alarm for a patient getting out of bed” did not work. Luckily I was there.
I must also say that the nurses we encountered were just so special….caring, kind but still efficient in doing what they must do to care for her. She suffered hallucination, vivid hallucinations. She’d wake me in my chair in the wee hours to proclaim that the her bed was upside down or that someone had moved the TV or that a large hairy spider was on the wall. Sometimes she’d get out o bed and would be uncontrollable by me. I was afraid I’d hurt her if I grabbed her too tightly. One of the night nurses, Jessica, would come in an in a soothing voice calm her and then gently lead her back to bed. Jessica listened to the night music and for her, the melody was soothing and helped her calm the demons and hallucinations caused by the necessary meds. Jessica and all of the nurses like her that work the night shift dance to the night music in perfect rhythm. They know the fear that the patients feel as well as any family member present…the noises, the routine, the various beeps are all unsettling to the uninitiated. I am so grateful for them…their care and concern. They are special in my eyes.
August 25, 2011 @ 2:19 pm
I will never forget my gratitude when my husband’s surgeon approved “no interruptions after 10:00 p.m.” so that we could both rest. It made a big difference. It didn’t mean that we awoke all refreshed, but we were able to face the day a little better.