So you saw me, huh? You noticed my keen interest as I stood at your bedside hanging your two o’clock Ancef dose. In between scanning the medication and pushing the multiple buttons on the IV pump, I intermittently perused the remaining contents of your forgotten lunch tray.
You might have wondered why I kept looking back to the ignored Salisbury steak on your plate, and how the brown gravy had inched closer and closer to the pile of mashed potatoes. The ones you only took one bite of because “hospital food sucks.”
You probably assumed I was calculating the percentage of how much, or rather little food you had eaten. You knew we kept track of that stuff.
You might have even figured I was simply planning ahead, reminding myself to remove your tray out of your sight. And indeed I was thinking that.
I was thinking both those things, but they don’t explain the reason my eyes glazed over as if I was in a dream, or the way my nose twitched slightly as I sniffed at the air. Or even the way I clamped my lips shut to prevent the liquid of my salivation to escape and hit the floor. I’d just have to clean it up after all.
You see, your tray called to me, and it said, “Eat me hungry one. Although I am cold, I am good. I am food.” And it was. Real food, not like the saltines and sugar-free jello that cruelly awaited me in the patient kitchenette area.
I didn’t get lunch today, and I know I told you I was going an hour and a half ago, but I didn’t. You probably thought I did. But I didn’t.
It wasn’t that I wasn’t hungry. Lord no. I was. My banana scarfed down quickly during report this morning at 6:30 had faded away come 10am. When eleven arrived I was ready to eat, but I knew lunch trays would be coming.
You’d need your blood sugar checked before you ate, and so would all the other patients too. Then naturally I administered your insulin as you began to eat. But not before helping you to the bathroom.
By this point I figured I might as well give the noon meds too. Reglan, Lasix, and Flagyl of course. And when is it not time to hang a fresh bag of Protonix?
But after that I told you I was going, right? I checked with you and my other patient, to make sure you had everything you needed. I got you a warm blanket, adjusted your thermostat, and got you a much-needed pain pill too.
“Go eat young lady!” You instructed, and I said, “I will,” smiling in anticipation as I headed out the door.
I can’t tell you what happened after that, and even if I could, according to Hippa you see, there wouldn’t be a single incident I could point to as the stealer of my lunch break.
It was a conglomeration, an ensuing wave of chaos that is my norm. A new admission rolled onto the unit, and all hands were needed at the bedside. I checked blood with a co-worker, and I gave the girl with the one-on-one, balloon-pump patient a potty break. Poor dear.
And just when I thought I might break away I heard the tale-tale sound of a critical alarm. Nurses ran, and I did too. And in that moment we all forgot about eating. We just fought, and we fought to keep a life here on earth a little while longer.
This is my day, and it’s what I do. I rarely get my breaks, and I hardly get a lunch. I heard someone’s ordering pizza, and I know I’ll stand in the doorway of the break room choking down a cold slice until a doctor tracks me down asking for pertinent information that only I can give.
While I looked at your peach cobbler I didn’t care so much that the cafeteria was closed. And even though my stomach growled while I carried away your lukewarm tray I felt my strength renewed. It was renewed because we won our fight down the hall, and that somehow made a missed lunch break okay. I was still hungry, and my feet hurt, but I was fine. I was fine with it all.
I’m a nurse. It seems we’re built with industrial-sized bladders, a plethora of patience, and the ability to eat on the go, albeit sometimes a lunch of crackers and jello. Maybe applesauce or pudding. I like chocolate.
But when I’m driving home it’s not the lack of lunch breaks that I think about. Instead I think about you, how concerned you were asking, “did you enjoy your lunch?”
I think about that, and the one we saved. Sometimes the one that slipped away.
But typically at two o’clock I probably thought about your leftovers abandoned on you plate, and now you know why I eyed them so longingly.