Things Are Looking Up...

This week has been both wickedly stressful and weirdly relaxing.  Well, today was relaxing.  Okay, it was relaxing after 3:25 p.m., once I heard that the surveyors would not be back to visit radiology.

It's the lovely time of our every-three-year acccreditation survey.  Ever heard of Joint Commission?  They are the surveyors that every hospital leader fears.  The words "JCAHO's here" send ripples of terror through a management team faster than me seeking out a Dairy Queen on a 90 degree summer evening.  They do white glove tests on your equipment, quiz you on your own policies and procedures, observe your staff when your staff don't know they're watching (Handwashing!  Labeling meds!  Not eating tacos or drinking Diet Coke in the operating room.  Y'know, the little things).

They've been to Radiology six times since Monday.  Three times to the department itself and visits to three of my off-site imaging facilities.  Everyone did great.  But I've never seen people look so relieved when they finally left.  We have about 1100 standards to meet across all of Imaging and we only had one citation, so I'm totally chalking that up to a major, stress-let-down-migraine-inducing win.

Well, until next week.  We fully expect them to be back next week to survey our two remaining hospitals.  After the 348th snowstorm this year clears.  [As usual, I'm back-up administrator on call this weekend and will most likely have to go into the hospital Saturday night for the duration of the storm.  I have a 10-page Aquinas paper due next week, so I'm seriously debating hauling my books to work so I can write Saturday night.  Does it even get any better than that?  Feels like a Saturday Night Live skit!  I hope Tina Fey plays my character!]

But it's kind of nice because when JCAHO is in town, all meetings are automatically canceled.  You may have to spontaneously escort a surveyor somewhere or get called to the board room to answer questions.  But when you're not being bugged by the surveyors, you spend your time roaming around the department, making sure the nuclear hot lab door is closed, that someone hasn't left a wheelchair in the hallway, and that staff are using isolation protocol correctly.  

So after hourly department rounds, I found myself with a plethora of free time today.  I knocked a bunch of stuff off my three page to-do list and actually breathed.  I ate lunch in the staff break room.  I caught up with my assistant's home life (her two 'tweeners are hitting that sassy girl phase).  I filed stuff stacking up since Christmas.

I needed to declutter my office.  I needed to declutter my LIFE.

I decided that the unnecessary things have to go.  Family drama?  Gone.  I simply cannot worry about my brothers any more and how they may be screwing up their lives or hurting our parents.  I cannot worry about some out of town friends' work/life balances.   I cannot assume so much of other peoples' stress.  I'm working on my boundaries.  Taking care of ME is enough work.  

I'm reading this book called "Notes from My Blue Bike" and it's about intentional living.  It's the biggest cliche of the world, but I am trying to find joy in the little things.  And to cut out the unncessary, draining things (and people).  I do not owe anything to the energy vampires in my life.  

I live a pretty frickin' awesome life.  I have a husband that would do anything for me and is making me gain weight because of his stellar, nightly, multi-course dinners.  I have a family that loves me, friends who challenge and support me even during the toughest times.  I have a few very close friends whom I love dearly and without whom my life would seem so very empty.  My job is fabulous and I'm well-compensated for my hard work.  I am chairing my first board of directors and officially chairing two ethics committees now - two dreams I've had for years.  I'm going to Rome in a couple months, on the corporation's dollar, to tour Rome with a distinguished tour guide (I cannot wait to see Pope Francis up close- apparently we have an audience with him as part of a group).  I'm pursuing another master's degree in my beloved field of Theology.  I have a beautiful home in a safe neighborhood.  My car usually runs (if the snow's not too deep).  My gym membership is $5/month through work.  My commute is only 10 minutes now.  We stock good wine in our wine fridge.  The Lake Michigan beach house is booked in July.  I'm a blessed gal.  God is good.

And I usually feel as though there is 2,000 pounds on my shoulders.  I've been overheard complaining about how I hate my life and feel trapped.  I'm chalking THAT to seasonal affective depression and the fact that it has rained/snowed/sleeted/iced EVERY SINGLE WEEKEND since the New Year.  The most annoying optimists are even looking glum these days.  I told my assistant that I'm taking a day off the first time it hits 70 and is sunny outside.  I'm going to plant my butt on the deck with a chaise lounger, book, and chilled beverage.  Even if it falls on a random Tuesday.

So instead of complaining about how stressed I am and how my treadmill of existence won't slow down enough to let me stop hyperventilating, I'm really trying to look upward.  Instead of forging stoically ahead, I'm trying to stop and insert some intentionality into my life.  I'm so blessed and all I do is complain.  

Hence my Lenten resolution to stop complaining.  For Lent, one is supposed to give up negative things harming one's relationship with others or God.  Lent is like a New Year's celebration, a chance to start anew and develop better habits.  Ash Wednesday is like the Catholic Opening Ceremonies, designed to kick off the Lenten New Year with intentionality.     

   

I really like Lent.  In addition to the Friday's with cheese pizza and mac and cheese with fish sticks, Lent challenges me to look hard at my inward tendencies...and change those things that I can really tell are getting in my way of living the life God wants me to live.  

Here's to looking upward.

I Won't Whine if I Can Wine

So I've been doing a lot of moping around lately.  

"Oh!  I'm so stressed!"

"Oh, I have to get up at 5 a.m.!  For the 24th day in a row!"

"Oh, I have to work through my favorite Olympic events so I can finish a paper!"

"Oh, I'm so tired of hearing myself talk and complain."

I'm giving up complaining for Lent.  I was going to give up wine (what WAS I thinking?!).  But I did decide to give up whine.  Whining is not helping anyone and it's making me feel like crap.  

So I've decided to stop whining.  And keep wining.  In moderation, of course.

We found this little liquor store that actually ended up having a stellar wine selection.  We don't have a cellar but I've found that having a full wine fridge is a step in the right direction.  Wine makes me slow down.  I take better notice of my breathing and overall existence.  It slows my pace after a frenetic week and a glass of wine on a Friday night makes me melt back into a human being.

Then again, so does tea.  We've become fanatics of Teavana.  I really like the strawberrry lemonade and peach tranquility.  Just a little while ago, Jack made a Samauri chai in the ol' teapot.  It smelled like holidays, with the cinnamon and chai smells.  

But Jack ambled into the living room and proclaimed that the tea tasted like clowns.

I choked back a chuckle- "as in, Stephen King's clowns?" 

Oh, Jack.  

I came home tonight to a big present from a nun I used to work with (and for).  It just felt special to get a present at home from a nun.  Aren't I the one who should be buying the nuns presents?  Whoops.

Presents and cooked clowns.  The life we live....

This last weekend, we went to visit Vera and Mr. Vera in Chicago.  I hadn't been up to Chicago since November.  The whole time we drove up the interstate, I sang in my head (okay, and out loud), "Sweet Home Chicago."  Even though we have lived in Indianapolis for a year, I still feel more at home in Chicago.  And I'm from SB.  We've moved so many times that I'm not always sure WHERE I feel at home most.  On the way home back to Indy last night, Jack and I reflected on this.  The only constant in our lives has been change.  I'd kinda like to have a regular home for a while.  At least a year.

But we fell right back into our old routine in Chicago.  Excellent food, stellar wine [more wine!  What did you expect from me when I've been working 75 hours a week?!], and even more stellar friends.  Life is so much better when you have awesome friends.  

Friends are family that you choose.  

Friends like these get you through the crap life throws your way.  The Joint Commission is at work this week and today was probably the only day I didn't need tennis shoes with my suit.  Tomorrow and Wednesday will be nuts as I escort surveyors around the campuses.  Oh, fun.  

[See, I'm going to have to work on this whole not whining thing!]

Long story short, I am trying to look at the proverbial bright side.  Instead of complaining that my beach house has 178 steps I have to climb, I should be grateful that I even have a beach house.  Kind of a wanky metaphor, but instead of complaining how hard my life is, I'm trying to rejoice in the opportunities and learning experiences I have each day.  

No whining.  Just wining.  

Angels Among Us...

Sometimes, you have to come home from work and watch "America's Funniest Videos."

You know, while you're waiting for the news to be over so that you can watch the Olympics.  

Actually, the Olympics are pissing me off.  Indianapolis too closely resembles Russia (Siberia) these days.  Yesterday, we hit the snowiest day in the history of mankind in Indianapolis.

Do me proud, Indy!  Our freaking snowblower broke during the "freak" blizzard of January 5-6, when it was -40 degrees. The first time.  Jack and I reasoned, "Hey!  We live in Indy now!  This was a once-in-a-hundred-years storm!"  

The first time.

We should have fixed that #*@&^#&! snowblower!  I'm still sore from shoveling the other night.

I'll admit it...I'm over it.  Like, forever.  If I ever complain even once about 93 and humid this summer, you can dump my margarita over my head.  And then roll me into an ant hill. 

*************

I started the above post a few days ago, meaning to return.  If it helps, it's now 65 degrees, the snow melted in a scant 30 hours, things are flooding, and oh, now we have a tornado watch.  Why not!?

So today was easily in the top 10 of worst days ever.  Raging weather-related migraine aside, I lost my first patient.  Well, my first real patient.  We have lost a few patients but their deaths were a result of last-ditch efforts or hospice care that eased them peacefully into the next life.  

This one was an outpatient.  She was walking and talking when she arrived.  She did not go home. 

At the time of the Code Blue, I was standing in one of the main hallways.  We always freeze when we hear "Code Blue" paged overhead.  Especially when we hear "Code Blue, Outpatient Services," there is a 95% chance it's my department.  I stand there like a mime, waiting for the shoe to drop, so I can dash off in the right direction of the Code. 

This time, it was "Code Blue, Outpatient Services, CT Scan."

Off we went.

I arrived about 20 seconds after the Code was called and saw my staff already initiating chest compressions to restart the patient's heart until the ER team arrived to help.  I'm not at liberty of sharing any more details since the case is going to formal review, but many silver linings came out of this one.

The team responded so gracefully.  These radiology staff are not trained in emergency or trauma medicine.  They are not used to seeing projectile bleeding (well, for that matter, neither am I).  They're not used to physically feeling a patient grow cold, knowing that individual is dying in their arms.  They've never witnessed repeated, unsuccessful attempts at shocking a patient to restart their heart.  It's tough stuff and no amount of training prepares you.

Another first for me today, I had to go with the ER doctor to talk to the family.  They had no idea things had turned so grim.  When I spoke, someone else's voice came out of me.  She sounded calm, professional, and together.  I felt a big disconnect because inside, I was shaking like a leaf.

After the incident cleared and the staff cleaned the patient up so that the family could visit her one last time, I called a formal debriefing (more of a de-stressing).  One of my colleagues is a trained debriefing professional and I knew I needed a pro for this one.  In a group setting, she asked everyone how they were and what they were feeling.  It was the first time many, even the ER nurses, had a debrief.  While I don't want to have too many Code Blue's in Radiology, I will definitely continue that practice. 

It's so hard to see my staff struggling with this.  And I realized, driving home, that I felt a growing heaviness on my own heart.  While we had no negligence in this case, it's my job to keep patients safe.  It's my job to make sure that when they walk in, they are able to walk out.  I felt a deep stabbing of yuckiness at the terrible direction this one case took.  It wasn't our fault and still, we were helpless in changing that patient's end.  

I kept hearing the phrase "Maybe God needed her more than we did" come out of my mouth.  I'm not really sure what that means but I think it was me, trying to make some sense out of a terrible situation.

The upshot to this was the intense teamwork I saw, not just in Radiology, but across hospital management.  People came out of the woodwork to support me and help me make calls (when you have an unexpected death in a hospital, there's a ton of paperwork and phone calls.  You have to notify everyone from the CEO to Risk Management to Public Relations - in case someone starts a media firestorm).  When I finally stumbled back to my office, several directors had left voicemails, offering to help me.  Once word started to spread, some took it upon themselves to help me notify the necessary individuals.  

I felt like they were angels, swooping in to take some of the burden off of these weary shoulders.  

So while the outcome of one of our procedures today was awful and totally unexpected, I found solace in the fact that our team did the very best they could.  And that I'm really not alone out there; that in the moments when I most need support, there are angels hiding in the wings to come to my assistance.