Breaking All the Rules
When there are things at work that rock my world a little more than usual, I tend to write that patient a letter. This is one of those times.
You looked a lot (too much) like one of my nephews, which is maybe why my breath hung in my lungs a little longer when I saw you.
I remember everything about that day. I broke all the rules from the second I met you.
The first rule I broke was when I volunteered to be your nurse. It wasn't my turn to get a patient, and typically we try not to get things out of order like that, but I couldn't help it. I mean, you were already sitting on my lap eating orange jello 0.2 seconds after we met, so it seemed like the most obvious choice. I think I will always remember you, but mostly when I see orange jello. You ate so much orange jello. Actually, probably not as much as it seemed because you held the spoon upside down so I don't think a lot of it actually made it in your mouth. But you looked super cute trying. I wanted to help you so I took the spoon a few times, but then I figured after the day you'd had you should feel in control of something, and letting you hold your own spoon however you wanted was the very least I could let you do.
I think the next rule I almost broke was when we took all the pictures from the top of your head to the bottom of your toes with that really big camera (x-rays). We said "cheeeeeeeeese!!" and every time you said it with the same excitement…I almost forgot why we had to take the x-rays. I almost forgot I was still your nurse and that I had a job to do. I wish you could have forgotten, too…especially hope you forget that one x-ray where I took Mr. Donkey away so he'd be out of the picture and you looked at me with the saddest face I've ever seen and I realized that was the worst idea ever so I gave him right back. Still sorry about that, buddy. Also sorry for when I almost lost your Thomas the Train sticker. Sheer panic (me, not you. You were unaware at that point that he might be lost). That was a close one, Thomas.
Another rule is not to let a patient eat before test results are back or before we rule out anything surgical. Broke that one, too. You said you were hungry when we first got you in the room, and we had already unabashedly dived into the orange jello situation...so the next thing you knew there was a turkey sandwich (bigger than your head), vanilla pudding, and a cupcake that sweet officer gave you. Then you wanted juice, so we gave you apple juice. Then you wanted Sprite, so Sprite it was. Lord have mercy, we were grown adults completely forgetting how to say no. It seemed like a superpower you had and you were well aware of it. Or maybe it was the way you said "tank you" after everything that made us completely forget how to control ourselves and not be crazy people spoiling you rotten. You could have asked me to run a marathon and I would have signed up for the Boston. I would have handed you the moon.
The only time I think I didn't break a rule was in cat scan. You waved at our friends on the way to take more pictures in that biiiiig machine that goes "whoosh whoosh whoosh" all the way around. We pretended we were "sleeping" to trick the radiology techs (but really I just wanted you to hold still, and you did!). You were so good at pretending—I wondered how many times in your little life you had pretended not to be in situations you were in.
You were loving all the attention from the staff and the officers, but I could see your little eyes were tired. So I asked you if you were tired and you said, "yeah, I'm sweepy." I turned off the light and you snuggled up next to me and I traced my fingers over your little cheek. You fell asleep so quickly I thought you were pretending again. The Officer and I whispered back and forth about you. We wondered who could do these things. How shocking it is every time we see just how much of a monster people could be.
Another rule where I work is, typically, if your patient is stable and you can take more patients you should take more patients. You were stable, but I didn't leave your room. I broke that rule for the whole hour and a half you slept. No medical intervention, just being a human. Just a snuggly, quiet, safe place for you. A part of me would feel a tinge of guilt when I could hear my busy coworkers outside. I knew there would be more busy days in the ER, but I didn't know if I'd ever get to snuggle you while you slept again. I don't regret feeling like I was letting my coworkers down if it meant you felt safe for awhile. I'm sure they didn't care, either.
I told them I would take you home. That's probably against a rule in some policy I haven't read, so I'm not sure. If anything, it's probably frowned upon to literally bring work home with you when you are in my line of work, but I was a goner by the time you finished that first jello cup.
The social worker asked how serious I was about becoming an emergency placement for you, and I told her I was super serious. They started background checking and that's when I broke another rule…I got my hopes up. And while you were sleeping soundly I was running through plans in my head of what the next couple days would look like if I actually took you home from the hospital. I got attached. Got too close. I barged through ever imaginary line I was probably not supposed to cross. And, sweet boy, I would do it all again.
You didn't leave with me, and I was sad about that. I held it together the rest of my shift and through dinner with a friend, but I cried when I got home. My heart was broken for you…and selfishly for me.
Listen, baby. There aren't a lot of times you get to choose how your heart breaks. But if I could choose…if my heart breaking is what let yours heal, even just for a little while, I'd choose that every time.
I believe a lot of people look at your situation and wonder how a God can let those things happen. But there has been a shift in me the last few years, and although I still wonder those things sometimes, I've mostly come to believe that He hates it as much as we do. That His heart broke for you immeasurably more than ours ever could. And while I held you for that little time, I felt His compassion for you. And I believe when you left that ER and it wasn't with me, He wasn't surprised. Although that wasn't what I wanted, I remembered later that night that He knows the number of hairs on your head, and I'm trusting that as much as I want good for you, He wants it even more. I've seen Him redeem some of the darkest situations, so I figured I could count on him to redeem yours. I may never see you again, but while you slept I prayed. I ran my fingers through your hair and begged with every breath you took that Jesus would redeem the things your little eyes had seen. Prayed with every ounce of faith I have against every statistic they say you should be. Prayed that He would work all things together for your good. Prayed that you would grow up to know Him. Prayed that you would grow up to be compassionate, kind, patient, brave, gentle, fierce, and strong. I also prayed, probably the most desperately, that you would know deep in your bones that you are worth so much.
Wherever you are now, I hope there's plenty of orange jello. And I kind of hope you're more successful with a spoon. But more than anything, I hope you are wanted, safe, and loved.
You broke my heart and I broke the rules. But it was in all the best ways. I'll forever be thankful for you.
xo,
Miss Kenzie
You looked a lot (too much) like one of my nephews, which is maybe why my breath hung in my lungs a little longer when I saw you.
I remember everything about that day. I broke all the rules from the second I met you.
The first rule I broke was when I volunteered to be your nurse. It wasn't my turn to get a patient, and typically we try not to get things out of order like that, but I couldn't help it. I mean, you were already sitting on my lap eating orange jello 0.2 seconds after we met, so it seemed like the most obvious choice. I think I will always remember you, but mostly when I see orange jello. You ate so much orange jello. Actually, probably not as much as it seemed because you held the spoon upside down so I don't think a lot of it actually made it in your mouth. But you looked super cute trying. I wanted to help you so I took the spoon a few times, but then I figured after the day you'd had you should feel in control of something, and letting you hold your own spoon however you wanted was the very least I could let you do.
I think the next rule I almost broke was when we took all the pictures from the top of your head to the bottom of your toes with that really big camera (x-rays). We said "cheeeeeeeeese!!" and every time you said it with the same excitement…I almost forgot why we had to take the x-rays. I almost forgot I was still your nurse and that I had a job to do. I wish you could have forgotten, too…especially hope you forget that one x-ray where I took Mr. Donkey away so he'd be out of the picture and you looked at me with the saddest face I've ever seen and I realized that was the worst idea ever so I gave him right back. Still sorry about that, buddy. Also sorry for when I almost lost your Thomas the Train sticker. Sheer panic (me, not you. You were unaware at that point that he might be lost). That was a close one, Thomas.
Another rule is not to let a patient eat before test results are back or before we rule out anything surgical. Broke that one, too. You said you were hungry when we first got you in the room, and we had already unabashedly dived into the orange jello situation...so the next thing you knew there was a turkey sandwich (bigger than your head), vanilla pudding, and a cupcake that sweet officer gave you. Then you wanted juice, so we gave you apple juice. Then you wanted Sprite, so Sprite it was. Lord have mercy, we were grown adults completely forgetting how to say no. It seemed like a superpower you had and you were well aware of it. Or maybe it was the way you said "tank you" after everything that made us completely forget how to control ourselves and not be crazy people spoiling you rotten. You could have asked me to run a marathon and I would have signed up for the Boston. I would have handed you the moon.
The only time I think I didn't break a rule was in cat scan. You waved at our friends on the way to take more pictures in that biiiiig machine that goes "whoosh whoosh whoosh" all the way around. We pretended we were "sleeping" to trick the radiology techs (but really I just wanted you to hold still, and you did!). You were so good at pretending—I wondered how many times in your little life you had pretended not to be in situations you were in.
You were loving all the attention from the staff and the officers, but I could see your little eyes were tired. So I asked you if you were tired and you said, "yeah, I'm sweepy." I turned off the light and you snuggled up next to me and I traced my fingers over your little cheek. You fell asleep so quickly I thought you were pretending again. The Officer and I whispered back and forth about you. We wondered who could do these things. How shocking it is every time we see just how much of a monster people could be.
Another rule where I work is, typically, if your patient is stable and you can take more patients you should take more patients. You were stable, but I didn't leave your room. I broke that rule for the whole hour and a half you slept. No medical intervention, just being a human. Just a snuggly, quiet, safe place for you. A part of me would feel a tinge of guilt when I could hear my busy coworkers outside. I knew there would be more busy days in the ER, but I didn't know if I'd ever get to snuggle you while you slept again. I don't regret feeling like I was letting my coworkers down if it meant you felt safe for awhile. I'm sure they didn't care, either.
I told them I would take you home. That's probably against a rule in some policy I haven't read, so I'm not sure. If anything, it's probably frowned upon to literally bring work home with you when you are in my line of work, but I was a goner by the time you finished that first jello cup.
The social worker asked how serious I was about becoming an emergency placement for you, and I told her I was super serious. They started background checking and that's when I broke another rule…I got my hopes up. And while you were sleeping soundly I was running through plans in my head of what the next couple days would look like if I actually took you home from the hospital. I got attached. Got too close. I barged through ever imaginary line I was probably not supposed to cross. And, sweet boy, I would do it all again.
You didn't leave with me, and I was sad about that. I held it together the rest of my shift and through dinner with a friend, but I cried when I got home. My heart was broken for you…and selfishly for me.
Listen, baby. There aren't a lot of times you get to choose how your heart breaks. But if I could choose…if my heart breaking is what let yours heal, even just for a little while, I'd choose that every time.
I believe a lot of people look at your situation and wonder how a God can let those things happen. But there has been a shift in me the last few years, and although I still wonder those things sometimes, I've mostly come to believe that He hates it as much as we do. That His heart broke for you immeasurably more than ours ever could. And while I held you for that little time, I felt His compassion for you. And I believe when you left that ER and it wasn't with me, He wasn't surprised. Although that wasn't what I wanted, I remembered later that night that He knows the number of hairs on your head, and I'm trusting that as much as I want good for you, He wants it even more. I've seen Him redeem some of the darkest situations, so I figured I could count on him to redeem yours. I may never see you again, but while you slept I prayed. I ran my fingers through your hair and begged with every breath you took that Jesus would redeem the things your little eyes had seen. Prayed with every ounce of faith I have against every statistic they say you should be. Prayed that He would work all things together for your good. Prayed that you would grow up to know Him. Prayed that you would grow up to be compassionate, kind, patient, brave, gentle, fierce, and strong. I also prayed, probably the most desperately, that you would know deep in your bones that you are worth so much.
Wherever you are now, I hope there's plenty of orange jello. And I kind of hope you're more successful with a spoon. But more than anything, I hope you are wanted, safe, and loved.
You broke my heart and I broke the rules. But it was in all the best ways. I'll forever be thankful for you.
xo,
Miss Kenzie
I'm glad you wrote today. The world needs more nurses like you.
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