Ice Cream

I'm working the oncology/pulmonary floor, the Oaks (the psych hospital), and Cape Fear Hospital (a small, cushy hospital that mostly deals with ortho) this week. Working the oncology floor is very different than working in the outpatient cancer center, since the patients are much sicker. On Friday, I actually saw a patient I'd educated in the outpatient center. She looked very different, a month later. I actually didn't recognize her-- her mother recognized me and I, in turn recognized her mother, but I would never have recognized the patient out of context. Cancer sucks. I try to fight it by offering to send everyone ice cream but the patients aren't always up for a sweet frozen treat. So instead, I sent this patient fresh fruit and beef broth (her requests). It's not going to fix her severe pain episodes but it's the best I can do, since I don't carry morphine with me.

I also saw a couple of adorable geriatrics today at Cape Fear. I wanted to hug them both and feed them pudding. The man was raving about his lunch (with bits of salmon sprinkled on top of his shirt, since the bibs at Cape Fear, unlike at his nursing home, aren't very good) and proceeded to discuss his favorite dessert--strawberry ice cream with blueberries--and the fact that at his SNF, he gets a PBR every night after dinner: "it puts you right to sleeep!" The woman was just cute as a button (and as tiny as one too). She's determined to get her weight up (she says she's going to try to drink 3 CIBs per day, instead of the two she drinks at home) but assured me that my weight was fine. I had been worried and had been about to ask her opinion of my weight, so that was sweet of her to say...