I’m in a tricky situation. I want to write about my experiences having spent the last two weeks on a neurosurgery ward, but for confidentiality purposes I think it’s best that I don’t. I could change names and dates, but I think that it could degrade or exploit the atrocious circumstances people have found themselves in. I’m not in to that.
So I will just say that there have been many strong emotions (including the odd tear) and it’s been a rollercoaster of different experiences which has resulted in me wanting to work as a neurological nurse when I’m qualified.
Seeing patients who are in the same terrible situation as I was has been a surreal and humbling experience for me. One that I’m extending by another week!
I took a risk for this
Unfortunately I have just received an email from my friend in Mallorca who has been told that he only has a week or two to live. I won’t lie, thats pretty shit.
When parents are told their baby will die, what would you do or say to them?
I would do the only thing I’m good at. I would try to eek those few seconds of laughter out of them just to enable them a precious moment of respite. I believe more than ever that this how we can all beat a terminal illness, whether that be cancer or any other life limiting condition.
Those few seconds that the child or family are laughing are completely free of heartache and heartbreak.
Even though you might feel your eyes burning with tears and your heart feels like it’s being weighed down by an anchor, the joy you feel when you succeed with getting these moments will energise you to keep doing what you’re doing.
Even when it’s painful you can never let it stop you
What more is there than to love and be loved. Well I love kids and I love giving a piece of my heart to each of them. Good jesus, I think the cringe police are knocking on my door.
[Picture courtesy of google images]
We do get attached to people, it’s in our nature to do that. It’s a risk, but it’s one that keeps me going. I think I’ve found my niche to beating cancer until there is a cure for it, or any other illness that takes people’s lives away from them too early.
I won’t lie, I do feel quite upset about my friend Atique. I’m not sure why, maybe I believed he had a bit longer to live. It’s not like I know him all that well either. I won’t get to see him again, but I knew that.
Life with a brain injury is tough, hopefully I’ve shed some light on that by now. But it hasn’t affected my love for people and helping them when they’re at their lowest and most despairing. When they need help and have nowhere to turn. When they’re on their last chapter.
And yes, I cry for them. I feel heartbroken for them. Maybe that is what keeps me fighting a brain injury and making it as a nurse, something I’ve always wanted and sworn never to give up on.