Perspective

Sunday I worked--another insane shift, and another insane assignment. But that's another post.

I was assigned to our reverse isolation pod where we put our heart and lung transplants. I was assigned two very sick transplants with complications, but across the pod was a fresh lung transplant from Friday. When I came on shift he was doing pressure support trials in preparation for extubation. He was pretty anxious--as most people intubated without sedation are--but even more so because he was a lung patient.

He passed his trials with flying colors and was quickly extubated. His family came in afterwards, thrilled to be able to talk to him. The family was bubbling over with happiness and enthusiasm, which is pretty typical of post transplant patients and families. They are just so thankful that their loved one has been granted a second chance afforded them by their new organs.

The patient was doing his best to match his family's mood, but it was pretty clear to me that he wasn't doing as well as he was making out. His wife kept asking him if he felt better, and he would agree that he did, managing a tentative smile for her.

He was a little more forthcoming with his nurse when the family wasn't present. He admitted to some pain and feeling somewhat short of breath. He also was pretty fatigued. Most of all he was just tired of being in a hospital bed with all the ridiculous lines and tubes we insist on attaching. And rightly so I think--we do tend to take things a little far with what we expect our patients to tolerate. He had come to our hospital from 750 miles away for the transplant consult, and it had taken 10 months to get where he was because of some other complications that needed to be resolved before he was a true candidate. Imagine being away from home temporarily...but for 10 months. Did I mention we don't have TV's in our open pods? In short, he was just cranky.

A couple hours later I overheard him ask his nurse how much of the surgery he would be awake for. I stopped what I was doing to look across the pod and listen in.

The nurse gave him a blank look and asked, "What surgery?"

A little annoyed, he shot back, "The one I've only been waiting 10 months for!?"

"Uh, you had your surgery on Friday, today is Sunday."

His turn to give a blank look.

She repeated, "You got your lungs on Friday, you've had your transplant already."

"No shit??" A slow smile spread across his face.

Thanks to the anesthesia the last thing he remembered was changing into a gown...

It's amazing to see the shift in his perspective and his mood based on that one small piece of information. Suddenly he was pleasant, jovial even. He was happy to see his family, even when they stayed to long, or asked him for the 50th time, "How do you feel? Are you better??"

So let me ask you, when you woke up this morning, did you face the day like it was gift? Like you had been blessed with a new set of lungs?

Or are you still waiting (for 10 months now!) for something good to happen?

If I may draw from the wisdom of Frog on the kids show Little Bear, (a favorite in my house), "A day is just a day. It isn't good or bad." We decide if it's good or bad.

What will you do with your new lungs today?