Of A Healer: In Death’s Arms

*Warning this piece contains some graphic medical descriptions and medical field situations that some may find disturbing.*

“Hey, could you come here?” Bev called as she stuck her head out of a room.

I hear a note of panic rising slowly in her voice, but didn’t think anything of it as she stepped back beyond the glass door and curtain.

“Yeah, hang on, I’m coming,” I called back launching a pair of used gloves into a nearby garbage.

It was the end of shift and report was finished with only five minutes to spare. The day had been long and arduous and I was ready to be off the unit and out in the real world.

Not that I’ll have time to appreciate it, I thought stepping into the room and seeing a blinding orange sun sink beneath the horizon.

Dark when I get here, dark when I leave, I repeated in my head with a forlorn look.

I glanced back out into the hall where a flock of residence and medical students had gathered outside the room, no doubt waiting to make the assessments.

They’re flocking this way, I thought to myself and pulled on some gloves.

“How can I help?” I asked looking around for Bev.

“We’re in here,” she called from the bathroom, “sorry, he’s just not feeling really well.”

In Bev’s arms a elderly gentleman wretched and gasped saliva into the toilet.

Bev stood behind him hands supporting his waste as he shook slightly from the effort.

“I just need you to hold him here,” she said with a small grunt, “while I grab the Nurse and let her know he’s not feeling good.”

The man wretched again, but to no avail. His body shook again.

I jumped forward eager to help as she held onto him for a second more. I could see, for a moment, her hand shaking and face growing pale.

Something was wrong.

“Is he alright?” I called after her, but Bev was already gone running out the door.

The patient shook in my arms as another wave of nausea hit him hard.

His breaths were coming in strange sporadic gasps and the shaking was getting worse.

“Hang in there, I said, planting a foot and knee just behind his legs.

This isn’t good, I thought now feeling fear raise the hair on the back of my head, where the hell is Bev?

S-s-sit,” gasped the man as he tried to turn his head towards me.

“Yeah maybe we should sit down-” I was about to say, but his knees buckled and his entire body weight landed on my ready knee.

“Hey!” I yelled, ” anyone out there? I could use a hand!”

Where is everyone?

Suddenly the patient pitched forward and belched out a fountain of green bile into the toilet.

Caught by surprise, I gave a yell and held onto him even tighter. More bile fountained from his mouth hitting the toilet and tiled wall. Light green missed with bits is dark.

That’s too much fluid, I thought as adrenaline broke through the shock.

“Help!” I screamed as his whole body weight pulled against me. Both my arms were wrapped right around the man’s waste and we leaned towards the wall beside us.

Fluid continued to pour uncontrolled from his mouth. To my horror his head flopped forward as he slipped into unconsciousness and more fluid poured from mouth and nose. Fluid was being pushed out of the tear ducts in his eyes.

“CODE! SOMEONE CALL A CODE THIS MAN IS DYING!” I screamed slamming my body against the wall in an effort to pull the bathroom call light and signal to anyone what was going on in the room.

Where are the freaking residents? I thought wildly as I staggered under unconscious weight.

“CODE! SOMEONE CALL A CODE NOW!” I continued screaming as a I heard voices begin to yell out in the hall.

Bile was draining onto the floor, running down my arms and onto my feet.

I could feel the sticky warmth rolling over my skin and had to choke down my own vomit.

“WE’RE HERE!” Someone finally responded flinging open the doors as the rest of my strength left me and we both slid into the tiled floor.

The man’s body lolled sickly over my own as I tried to prevent his head from cracking against the ground. I was beneath him, feeling the warmth of his body on my legs and lower torso.

It was at that very moment I felt the patient’s body tense, ever so slightly, as if he were regaining consciousness. For a moment I thought he was going to open his eyes, push away from me, or speak; but then his body went boneless.

A gurgle escapes his mouth as more fluids dribbled out, but then he was gone.

“No,” I croaked, realizing what I had just felt, “No!”

Someone above us wretched and there was more yelling as medical teams poured into the room.

I grabbed wildly at the man’s neck trying to feel for a pulse, but his head just flopped against my arm.

“I’m not feeling anything!” I yelled, reaching for his arm, “there’s nothing on his arm. No pulse!”

“Let’s move him out of the room,” called a nurse from the code team. Med-students and nurses alike pulled the man off of my body. But I was in shock and couldn’t let go of his head.

“He’s gone,” I said astonished to find myself sobbing as his body was pulled out across the floor. Tracks of green bile traced the spot from me to the now lifeless body.

“He’s gone.” I cried as someone pulled me up from the floor and pulled me out the open bathroom door. I looked down to see someone working on his chest, cartilage snapping along the man’s sternum as they compressed his heart.

His body was bouncing around like a rag-doll and his stomach rolled in waves, filled with fluid.

I gagged and made for the door of the room where familiar faces stood gawking and waiting to run supplies as needed.

They looked at me in my scrubs covered with filth. Their mouths moved as a hundred questions assaulted me from all sides, but all I could do was keep walking. I gagged again and the found the energy to push myself into the nearest secure med-room.

The door clicked behind me and I sank down to the floor too numb to even cry.

The only thought in my mind, I just felt someone die.

-M.E. InkOwl

Of A Healer: Batman

We worked together, moving Beth from side to side. She was approaching 85 and having had several major abdominal surgeries to remove multiple cancerous tumors her body was slowly shutting down. Severe edema made both of her legs swell to twice their size and was slowly losing her strength to stand and move.

The work was taxing in every way and as we finished unfolding clean sheets and positioning her just so Beth gave a tremendous sigh.

“What’s that for?” I asked with a grin, “you been working hard or something?”

Beth gave my arm a playful slap and between breath’s said, “you’re too funny for your own good kid.”

I laughed and gave her arm a squeeze, “well we couldn’t have done that without you Beth. You’re one in a million.”

“No,” she said grabbing hold of my hand and squeezing it tight, “you really are, I couldn’t get through this without you.”

I watched tears form in her eyes as she tried to convey her sincerity. It was touching and awkward at the same time because she was such an independent soul. I could tell it from the look in her eyes how uncomfortable she was laying in that hospital bed.

“Hey, I’ve got a funny story for you,” I said hoping this would distract her.

“I’m not going anywhere,” she answered in a gruff voice, but I saw her body slightly relax.

“The other night I had headed off to work and my son, Ira, was talking with my wife. They were clearing off dinner and in the middle of it Ira stops and says, ‘Mom, Daddy sleeps till four in the afternoon, right?’

“Without thinking my wife said, ‘Yes, Daddy has to because he works all through the night at the hospital.’ Ira stood there for a long moment thinking about this fact. Finally, he said, ‘So he sleeps during the day and works all night.’

“‘Yup, he does,’ she said with infinite patience. There was another moment of silence and then Ira’s eyes went all wide and he suddenly screamed, ‘Mom! Dad’s Batman!'”

Beth’s body rocked as she laughed at the story. I couldn’t contain myself and laughed as well. For a single moment, we weren’t in a large hospital room with whirring IV machinery and bubbling lines. The smell of sterilized surfaces and carefully filtered air disappeared and what mattered in that moment was Beth’s laughter.

A genuine look of mirth and energy filled her face as she smiled brilliantly to the room at large. It was a moment we both needed, and when it ended I helped Beth sit up higher in her bed. She grabbed my arm and with a voice full of gratitude said, “I’m so glad I have you here to help, Batman.”

“Anytime,” I said, giving her hand a squeeze, “anytime.”

-M.E. InkOwl

 

Of A Healer: Julie

She’s on her way out, the docs just told us,” she said, tears filling her eyes.

I reached over and placed a hand on her shoulder, sharing the look, sharing the fear.

“I-, I don’t know how long she’s going to be with us, but I know she would appreciate a visit from you,” she said with a sniff and knowing smile, “you are Julie’s favorite.”

I nodded and gave her what I hoped was a strong smile.

“You both have been my favorite patients to care for,” I said with a pause, “Well not you, you’re her sister.”

She chuckled, a rich and warm sound, as we stood in the bustling hallway.

Behind us elevators dinged open on different floors, hospital staff talking to one another, and family members passing by. Behind us, framed in a wide bank of windows, the sun was setting over the city, catching the summer pollution and igniting the sky. Milliseconds passed by, but they might have well been years.

“I’ll go visit, don’t worry,” I whispered as we pulled each other in a tight embrace.

“She’ll want to hear you,” she breathed in my ear.

We parted, knowing that we would never see one another again. Tears fell from her face onto the ground. And all I could do was nod my head, so I did.

I walked away.

Hitting the entrance button to the Intensive Care Unit I walked quietly down the hall, glancing briefly into each room I passed. Seeing a familiar name on the outside of a room I paused to take a breath.

Inside machinery whirred and lights blinked on and off. Julie lay on the hospital bed, a small form almost engulfed in blankets and pillows. Her eyes were closed. Dark lashes laid on iridescent skin. Purple shadows law below each closed lid and there was a hollowness to her face.

A breathing tube traveled from the bulky ventilator machine down into her mouth, giving a mechanical movement to Julie’s chest. She was beautiful, broken, yet beautiful.

I stepped close to her bedside, taking hold of a hand that was warm to the touch. They law across her stomach, as if she were expecting a visitor any minute as if she were waiting for me.

“Julie,” I said, placing my head close to her ear, “I’m here.”

There was no motion in her body, except for the rhythmic fall of her chest. I looked at her face. Only days before had there been a wide smile on her lips and a joke waiting to spring up. She had been full of zeal.

“Spit and vinegar,” is what she would have said. But now she was here, waiting.

“I just came by to tell you hi,” I paused, trying to control the rising emotions, “and I wanted to tell you something. You should know I’m a big baby when it comes to these things, saying good bye.”

I sniffed, feeling tears trickle down my face, “I always cry, no matter what.”

My tears fell down onto her blanket, wetting the fabric.

“I just want you to know that you are incredible. You’ve left an impression on me and I can’t thank you enough.”

I ran a hand across my nose and then looked for a tissue. Finding one I grabbed it and pulled my emotions under control.

“Julie, thank you for letting me care for you,” I said, giving her forehead a gentle kiss, “good bye, my friend.”

-M.E. InkOwl

Slowing Down

For all you who are following this blog, The Ink Owl will be slowing down its posts for this next year. I’m planning on doing four posts a month so that I can focus on larger writing projects that need my attention.

I’m excited to briefly mention that I was able to pitch a story that has caught the eye of a potential publisher! Now I need to devote as much time and attention to this story as I possibly can.

So forgive the absence and please continue to follow, at a slower pace. As always you can check out more of my writing on GoDogGoCafe. I look forward to one day soon share this exciting new experience!

Thank you all for your comments and support! This blog has become quite a special place because of your encouragement.

Now to put my pen to paper!

-M.E. InkOwl

Self-love: Love, A Process

“I now see how owning our story and loving ourselves through that process is the bravest thing that we will ever do.”
― Brené Brown


Brené Brown holds a masters of social work and is a research professor for the University of Huston. For more than fifteen years she has been studying topics such as courage, vulnerability, shame, and empathy. You can learn more about Brené Brown by visiting her website here. Here are links to more of her published works on Amazon.com:

Self-Love: Truth and Courage

“Vulnerability sounds like truth and feels like courage. Truth and courage aren’t always comfortable, but they’re never weakness.”
― Brené Brown


Brene Brown holds a masters of social work and is a research professor for the University of Huston. For more than fifteen years she has been studying topics such as courage, vulnerability, shame, and empathy. You can learn more about Brene Brown by visiting her website here. Here are links to more of her published works on Amazon.com:

The Black Cat Blue Sea Award

black-cat-award

I am overjoyed to celebrate yet another award for The Ink Owl. Invisible-No-More has been kind enough to nominate this blog! This award is primarily used to highlight those writers and bloggers who write regardless of how many readers they have, that write for anyone and everyone, and that write and make an impact on others. I am so very flattered to be nominated for this award!

Rules

  • anybody nominated can nominate up to eight other bloggers
  • the nominee answers three questions posed by the nominator
  • the questions you ask while nominating can be any three questions

Questions

Where do you look for inspirations for your blog posts?

I take a lot of inspiration in from my the everyday experiences in my life. Especially those experiences that involve getting out into the natural world (which isn’t as often as I would like). The stories just come up out of nowhere when I’m out walking with my kids by the city pond and bird refuge, or on top of a mountain, or just walking around the neighborhood.

How has your blog changed / evolved over time? Was the change in line with your expectation?

I started my blog out to help me move past a very difficult time in my life and now it’s turned into a place for me to hone and practice my writing skills, as well as make a place for me and my writing to be found in this vast world. When I started blogging I had no idea what was going to happen, so I think through happenstance this is where my blog went and I am very happy with it.

What would you like to be doing in the future? Are you still blogging?

I would love to be publishing my first novel sometime in the near future. And for the time being I will keep the blog up and running.

Nominations

1. Silent Hour

2. Sailor Poet

3. Stevie Turner

4. Fearless In Jesus Christ

5. The Lonely Author

My Questions

  1. What started you on the path to writing?
  2. Where do you get your everyday inspiration?
  3. What does writing mean to you?

Please do not feel obligated to fill out your own award, this is a nomination that is me giving you a nod for your quality of work!

Liebster Award 2018

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I am pleased to announce that The Ink Owl has been awarded the Liebster Award for discovering new blogs! Ida Auclond was kind enough to nominate my blog and I couldn’t be more excited. Go check out her blog for beautiful and uplifting stories focused around life, mental health, and self-compassion. Thank you Ida!

Rules

  • Create a new post thanking the person who nominated you, linking to their blog. Include the award graphic.
  • Answer the questions provided.
  • Make a new set of 10 questions for your nominees to answer.
  • Nominate 5-10 recently followed bloggers and share your post with them so they see it.

Questions

If you had to name one song summing up your life over the last few years, what song would that be?

-I would have to say: “A Million Dreams” from The Greatest Showman, to a ‘T’.

If you had to describe yourself in a single word, what would it be?

-Engaging

If you could magically acquire one talent or personality trait, what would it be?

-To be introverted, it’s something that I’m trying to work more on being because it’s so different from who I am. It would be an interesting and eye opening experience to be able to step back from the social scenes of life and just observe.

If you had no obligations (family, money, etc.), what would you spend your life doing?

-Write! and while were on this subject, can I have a cabin in the woods to write in?

If you had to use a piece of fiction (book, movie, video game, etc.) to describe your goals, what would it be?

-“Okay For Now” by Gary Schmidt, read it, just read it.

If you could have anybody, real or fictional, help you reach your goals who would you choose and why?

-Danny Kay or Terry Pratchett. I could always use more of their kind of humor, understanding of the world, and outlook on life.

If you could have any superpower, what would it be and why?

-The ability to heal anyone I touched. My vocation is in a cancer hospital. Recently I’ve been surrounded by a lot of dying people. I’ve held a lot of mourning family members, and I’ve shed a lot of tears with all of them. It would be nice to ease the pain, and allow for families to have more time together.

If you could live anywhere, real or fictional, where would it be?

-The Shire, I close my eyes and day dream about living at the end of a row of hobbit holes, with my own round yellow door and garden on the roof. That or Basin Idaho. It’s amazing and a complete backwater-boonies experience. It’s a place to relax the mind and rejuvenate the soul.

If you could change one piece of fiction’s ending, what would it be and how would you change it?

-“The Shepard’s Crown” by Sir Terry Pratchett, I wouldn’t change any of the existing ending, but I would write in Sir Pratchett himself to continue the narration of his astonishing and wholly satisfying Disc World series. If only to make him immortal so the stories would never end. I’ll never forget finishing the Audio-book of Shepard’s Crown and realizing that would be the last new book I’d ever read from him again. I have to admit I cried. It was horrendously awkward and there were a few people that just kind of stared as they walked by. But it was such a moving and bitter moment, almost as if a close friend had passed and I would never be able to have our conversations again, just the memories.

If you could have a device to do any one thing in your place, what would it do?

-The Nest, because my living room is always baking and the kid’s bedrooms are always ice cold in the winter. Always.

Nominations (In no certain order)

1. Lori Writes The World

2. Earth to Ash

3. Aurora Phoenix

4. Darkness Of His Dreams

5. The Backyard Poet

6. Ronel The Mythmaker

7. Brave And Reckless

8. Wallie’s Wentletrap

9. Poems and Paragraphs

My Questions

1. What time of day is ideal for you to write?

2. What things inspire you to write?

3. How long have you been writing for?

4. What kind of education do you have?

5. What’s the purpose of your blog?

6. Favorite genre to write in? (You can list multiple ones)

7. You’ve been given a free two month vacation in an Italian Villa in Tuscany to write, what projects do you take? (Yes it’s all inclusive all you have to bring are clothes and writing materials.)

8. What do you struggle with when it comes to writing?

9. What hurtles have you had to overcome to be where you are with your writing today? (You can be as vague or detailed as you’d like.)

10. Favorite piece (or pieces) of literature?

Thank you all for the reads, likes, and comments. I am so happy to celebrate this award! For those that do not participate in these nominations, do not feel obligated to participate! Just understand that this is me letting you know you are fantastic writers!

-M.E. InkOwl

Self-love: Authenticity

“Because true belonging only happens when we present our authentic, imperfect selves to the world, our sense of belonging can never be greater than our level of self-acceptance.”
― Brené Brown


Brené Brown holds a masters of social work and is a research professor for the University of Huston. For more than fifteen years she has been studying topics such as courage, vulnerability, shame, and empathy. You can learn more about Brené Brown by visiting her website here. Here are links to more of her published works on Amazon.com:

Self-love: A Reminder

“Imperfections are not inadequacies; they are reminders that we’re all in this together.”
― Brené Brown


Brené Brown holds a masters of social work and is a research professor for the University of Huston. For more than fifteen years she has been studying topics such as courage, vulnerability, shame, and empathy. You can learn more about Brené Brown by visiting her website here. Here are links to more of her published works on Amazon.com: