Toilet Flushers Unite

On June 4^th, I underwent a gruelling, 14-hour surgery in Toronto to remove a rare and aggressive tumour from the right side of my face. During my brief hospital stay, I developed a fool-proof method in separating the wheat from the chaff when it came to my assigned nurses.

Each nurse, upon starting his/her shift was required to empty the small silicon bottles leading to three ports draining my various wounds (two in my neck and one in my upper left thigh). The bottles, efficiently and classily pinned to the front of my gown, held the mesmerizing amber fluid expelled from my body.

When the nurses began their shifts, they would start my personal care by opening the silicon bottles, carefully pouring the golden liquid into a jar in order to better measure and observe and then re-sealing the silicon receptacles for further collection. Then came the liquid disposal – and thus my determination on whether this was going to be a smooth or bumpy 12 hours in my life.

My hospital bed happened to be situated directly across from an alcove with a sink – with a door to the right opening into a tiny closet like room containing a toilet. The nurses who went to the alcove and made the extra two steps toward the toilet, dumping the fluid and then flushing it into oblivion – meant I would receive the care I deserved. However, when the nurses simply dumped this beautiful, albeit pus-filled fluid down the sink drain (and didn’t even bother to rinse out the basin) – a sink where my roomies and I brushed our teeth and washed our hands – this signified that these particular nurses believed in lazy shortcuts that more often than not would be of no benefit to their patients.

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In my previous post, I mentioned the two sink-dumpers. This one is only about the wonderful and amazing toilet flushers. Enjoy.

Humphrey

Humphrey – or Humps to his friends (like the Black Eyed Peas song) was just what I needed when I began my hospital recovery. Not only was he sweet and friendly, eager to chat, quick to explain everything he was doing – he was there when I needed him – when I had to go to the bathroom, when I needed pain medication. It was Humphrey who encouraged me to get out of bed and move to my chair for my meals. It was Humphrey who told me I needed to ambulate the ward and who went with me patiently for my first turn around. He was encouraging and friendly and pushed me toward the independence I needed to make it through the next 24 hours of lousy nurses.

Jennifer

Following Humphrey, I got two duds back-to-back (who shall remain nameless – except in my earlier post) but then just like that – Jennifer clocked on as my night nurse. She was tall and beautiful and I’m willing to bet – super athletic. She had a long ponytail and wore flattering navy scrubs. She walked with an intense and efficient purpose, her ponytail swinging. When she came to provide me my night- time meds and my eye drop, she explained that she felt sleep was most beneficial to me so wouldn’t awaken me for my hourly drop. And that when I awoke to use the bathroom, I could buzz her for it then.

Ruth-Ann

Nurse Ruth-Ann followed Jennifer as my day nurse. She was slow and meandering which had me worried (though she passed my wound drainage test) but I was worried for nothing. Though she lacked the intense gait of Jennifer, Ruth-Ann was a lovely and caring nurse. She did what was asked of her, was easy to talk to and most importantly was there when I needed her. She also informed me that upon visitation, Brennan could sign us out for a brief foray into fresh air. Something one of the sink-dumpers had told me was impossible!

Olivia

I have a story to tell you about Nurse Olivia. She happened to be my roomie’s nurse the night before and based on what I had heard and seen – she scared me. She let my roomie have it after he ate dinner in bed (a hospital no-no) and subsequently spilled his drink all over the bedding. So you can imagine my concern when I found Olivia at my side, introducing herself while at the same time measuring out the amber liquid from my wound bottles (disposed of in toilet, I’m happy to report). She was curt and abrupt in tone – though eager to make small talk and even though she sounded mean, she was not. She was no-nonsense – and I kind of liked it.

When she came by with my nightly meds and eye drop, she announced: “Go to sleep now and I’ll wake you in one hour for your next eye drop.”

I looked at her with puppy dog eyes. “If I fall asleep, can you leave me? And then when I go to the bathroom, I’ll buzz you for it?”

Olivia put the eye dropper down on my table slowly and then looked at me.
“What’s more important to you? Sleep? Or your eye?”
Well, when she put it like that. Sheepishly, I responded in a meek voice: “My eye.”

“Okay – tell you what. I’ll let you sleep three hours. Then I’ll wake you up for the drop.”

It was as good as I was going to get so I took it.

I dropped into a sound sleep and awoke to use the bathroom several hours later. I realized it had been four hours – and Olivia hadn’t awoken me. I got out of bed and padded to the toilet and after washing my hands, I tiptoed back to bed. I planned on buzzing Olivia to let her know I was ready for the drop. But there she stood – next to my bed – eye drop already clutched in her hand.

“I let you sleep for four hours. Happy?”

Then she gave me the drop and some more pain meds and she was off. And yes – I was happy.

Rosalin

It was Wednesday and I was going home so I was over the moon. And still – I was lucky enough to finish my stay with another pretty great nurse. Rosalin was cute and kind and hyper-efficient. She removed my final ports and helped me prepare for pickup.

The Unknown Nurse

This next blurb isn’t about me. It’s about my roomie. And I will go into more detail about him in a later post. But I will tell you this – he was nothing more than a kid in a horribly tough situation. “Ryan” had been waiting for surgery since I had arrived as his roomie several days prior. And the wait had taken its toll on him so on the Tuesday afternoon when I overheard his doctor inform him and his parents that surgery had finally been scheduled for later that evening, I was happy for him.

At around midnight, Ryan was brought back to our room. His jostling stretcher passing by my bed woke me up. I could hear him mumbling softly and indistinctly to his night nurse – a young man I never caught the name of. His nurse went and found him some suitable food so that he could eat something before retiring for the night. And with each of Ryan’s mumblings, the nurse would respond softly and kindly – answering his questions and laughing softly at what was surely some crazy, coming-off-of-anesthesia nonsense. When Ryan’s nurse was buzzed by his other patients on the ward, he would ask another nurse to take care of it for him so he could remain at Ryan’s side. I heard him tell Ryan: “Don’t worry, buddy. I’m right here next to you. I won’t go until you fall asleep, okay?” And he did just that – stayed next to Ryan, just on the other side of my curtain – for the next couple of hours.

Just before dawn, I saw a young man in scrubs standing outside my door writing in a file. I asked him if he was Ryan’s night nurse – he was. I told him what I knew Ryan’s parents would tell him – had they been there, bearing witness to his patient and loving care of their son: that he was the most amazing nurse I had come across in my brief hospital stay; that had my child been in hospital, requiring care – I would hand-pick him as their nurse based on what I had heard throughout the night; that not only are his patients grateful to him for his care and compassion – but so are his patients’ roomies.

I am grateful to each of these nurses mentioned throughout this post – and I want everyone to know that.

On Monday April 26, 2021, my life changed forever when I heard the words: “You have cancer.” This blog post is the ninth in a series entitled: Cancer Culture and revolves around my personal experience surrounding this devastating diagnosis.

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