I walked into your facility not just as a patient or colleague (I am an Operating Room Nurse at another location), but also as a grieving mother. After taking countless patients into the operating room for the very same procedure I was about to have; year after year, day after day... this time, it was me with tear-filled eyes and looming disbelief.
By the time I had reached your facility, I hadn't slept or ate much in two weeks, and I felt I was falling apart at the seams. I received a call from my own doctor on a busy Friday afternoon while I was running around my own OR corridor trying to coordinate my day- with news that no expectant mother ever wants to hear... "I don't think this pregnancy will be viable... something is wrong." My entire world crumbled to pieces in that very moment. This couldn't be real. All the air was sucked out of my lungs and turned into tears pouring out of my eyes. It would be the longest two weeks I've ever lived before having confirmation that this news was in fact, true. There was no heartbeat.
My procedure was scheduled quickly by the grace of an amazing physician Dr. Paniccia and perhaps the grace of God that I was added on without having to wait throughout the weekend. The night before was probably the longest. I couldn't sleep because I wanted to cherish whatever time I had left still carrying my child, still pretending none of this was real and it was all hopefully just a horrible nightmare I'd wake from. The sun hadn't even risen before I was on my way to you. The ride sitting side by side with my husband was silent other than hearing my own heartbeat pounding in my ears. As I exited the car and walked into the facility, my knees felt weak... with each step, my heart broke more and more as I was desperately praying to wake up from all of this.
I was greeted kindly at the door ad luckily brought into the holding area immediately. The relief I felt not having to wait in a public place surrounded by strangers wondering why my eyes were bloodshot and full of tears was everything to me at that moment. My nurse in the holding area was Laura Valentine. I found that to be an incredible coincidence. It was Valentine's Day, and my husband and I decided the night before that we would name our daughter Valentine in honor of the day, she'd be straight to Heaven. I immediately felt comfortable in her introduction because I knew she was meant to be there. She was so kind, supportive and so sympathetic to what I was feeling. I have been the patient many times before, but this time was different. I wasn't there for illness. I wasn't there for injury. All I knew was that I walked in pregnant and would be walking out with emptiness that would never be filled again. Our children are irreplaceable.
Dr. Galea and Dr. Paniccia answered all my questions and addressed every concern and request with care and compassion. Linda Dolan was my nurse in the OR. She made me feel comfortable and as much at ease as was possible granted the circumstances. Kevin Blasse was the Surgical Technician and when I walked in, I noticed he had just been gowned and not been spun. When I asked if I can spin him, his eyes widened with confusion as he did not know I myself, was an OR nurse... and I told him it would be an honor. He kindly obliged and gave me a very much needed laugh. In those few seconds, I got to smile and feel "normal."
As I walked back to the table and positioned myself for anesthesia knowing that this would be the last few minutes of this pregnancy. There was nothing I could do but thank everyone for being there for me just before I drifted off to sleep. I woke up in recovery under the care of Angela (who was so sweet and so attentive, and obviously another person meant to care for me as we shared a name!) and soon after was dressed to go home. My husband had gone to get the car, and as I was walking to the door, I had again realized in that moment that I had walked into the building pregnant... and was walking out with empty arms. Not the way it happened with my beautiful daughter only 21 months earlier (an extremely difficult pregnancy that was a threatened miscarriage more times than anyone would ever believe!). Princess was there to give me the tightest hug and wish me well. I had met her and Tom (NP) the night before during my PST, and it was nice to see her smiling face at that moment.
The OR is a funny place. Considering the number of patients, we handle on a daily basis, we are often forgotten about in letters and reviews. Through the masks and gaps and funny gowns, the fog of anesthesia, and fear of the unknown, our names are forgotten unintentionally. I wanted to make a point of personally thanking your staff again for being such warm and caring people during the absolute most horrific day of my entire 37 years. Thank you, thank you, THANK YOU. Thank you for the unending supply of tissues. Thank you for the hugs. Thank you for sharing our own stories, too. Thank you for not making me feel alone. Thank you for not making me feel uncomfortable about any requests. Thank you for allowing me to cry when I needed to and laugh when I could. Thank you all for being you and for doing what WE do every single day. Thank you for making me feel how I strive to make my patients feel. I hope to never see you again under these conditions but wanted to make sure that my gratitude was expressed to all of you just one more time.
Keep being amazing. Keep being compassionate. Keep being you, because you're all doing an incredible job.