I just read a story in the news titled something like: “She was discharged from the ER twice, then she died.” It was a link I couldn’t help clicking and after reading the story I arrived at a familiar conclusion: It is hard to be an ER doctor. The down and dirty of the story
It has occurred to me that crisis response in the ER parallels our personal lives. When a nurse gets an acutely ill patient, their initial arrival is met with many helping hands. The doctor is right there and extra techs and nurses flock to the room to help stabilize the patient. The need is obvious
Is there anything a mother fears more than harm to her child? We’re haunted by their vulnerability- the fact we can’t control all the forces that could hurt them. We can buckle them in carseats that look like they were built for bombers, feed them food that’s never even heard of pesticides, slather them in
Maya Angelou famously stated that “people will forget what you said, people will forget what you did, but people will never forget how you made them feel.“ I hate that quote. Don’t get me wrong- it’s true and insightful and important. But I hate it because it indicates something outside of the realm of facts
It was one of those days. Everybody was crying. I was crying. My two toddlers in the backseat were crying. I was overwhelmed and frustrated and angry. “Stop it!” I cried at the crying toddlers, which only made them cry louder and now with a tinge of fear, adding guilt to my frustration. Oh, the
