I want to write all about how my heart is breaking for one of the patients on my unit. I want to tell you all about what is wrong with her and how long she has been there, how they assign her to me every time I work and what her prospects are. Because I take care of her so often, people ask me almost daily my opinion on when she is going to die. The "if" questions stopped a long time ago. I want to tell you all about how I thought she was going to die in surgery (I cried on and off the whole day she went in (I was at home, thank goodness)), but she made it. I want to talk about how I kind of wanted her to die in surgery; to just go to sleep and never wake up.
I don't blog my hospital stories because I'm nervous about patient privacy, but this woman has worked her way inside of me and I want to write this down so I remember her when I read this in 5, 10, 15 years. I'm not sure why I have grown so attached to her because she sleeps most of the day and isn't much for talking because she's in constant pain. I just feel so sad for her. I want her to get better so badly, but then I want her to not get better and go on hospice so she can have as much narcotics as she wants.
I promised her on Tuesday that I'd come back and paint her nails on Wednesday, and she smiled at the idea. She smiled and I haven't seen her smile in weeks. But then I was sick on Wednesday and didn't go to work. I'm not scheduled to go back until next Tuesday, and I have a lot of anxiety that she won't be there to hear why I didn't come back with my pink nail polish like I promised.
I feel like breaking that promise was one of the worst things I've ever done.