Personal Narrative: The Hospital Room

A New Perspective It was another day going to Doylestown Hospital. I walked into the gastroenterologist’s waiting room with my mother. It was like any other waiting room, cramped with tired patients, uncomfortable seats, and tattered old Reader’s Digest magazines that just appeared to be there to take up space since no one ever seemed to read them. After a while a friendly looking nurse brought me back the gastroenterologist’s office. I sat in my seat anxiously waiting to see my doctor and hear the results of my liver biopsy, hoping the results would be better than the ones from my upper endoscopy. He then entered the room and took a seat in front of me at his desk, wearing the usual friendly yet at the same time impersonal look on his features.

My second clinical day at Mercy Defiance Hospital, progressive care unit, was overwhelming but rewarding and very educational. Through the 8 hours I was there, I learned a lot. I engaged myself in many self-directing learning practices to futher promote my professional growth. My first time interaccting with my patient,I was joined with my clinical instructor. While in the room, I got to listen to to my patients heart, lungs, and bowel sounds. I was able to see and examine the patients ostomy bag, as well as help them to the bathroom. There were ways that I can improve my professional growth, suchas,having the confidence to not second guess my self about things to do in assessments. For example, I know how to assess the lungs, I should not second guess where to listen for the sounds. One of my goals for next week dealing with professional growth would be to have the confidence to know what I have learned and use it. My second one being to go into the room with a confident attitude and believe in myself.

“Right this way,” the nurse ahead of me was prompting me to a brightly lit hall that was completely foreign to me. I couldn’t help but be terrified by the sights and sounds around me: people chattering, machines methodically beeping, gurneys rushing past. It was my first time in a hospital and my eyes frantically searched each room looking for any trace of my father. She stopped suddenly and I turned to the bed in front of me but I could not comprehend what I saw. At such a young age, I idolized my father; I had never seen him so vulnerable. Seeing him laying in a hospital bed unconscious, surrounded by wires and tubes was like witnessing Superman encounter kryptonite. My dad’s car accident not only made him a quadriplegic, but also crippled

A music box like sound twinkled with a bright tune throughout the hospital. Its tune was heard from the quiet and calm patient rooms, through the long white hallways, and to the comfortable hospital lobby where I stood waiting. I wonder what that sound was? Well, who cares? I’ve got other things to worry about. It was my first day of volunteering at the Fountain Valley Regional Hospital. The first tasks I was assigned were to greet, to help, and to escort visitors to their destination. My shaky hands were clasped together in an attempt to stay calm. Jeez I hope I don’t get lost while escorting a visitor.

Do you ever realize how life is one big unknown and how it could change within a split second? There are moments in life we wish we can return to and make the most of. Everyone should live their lives to the fullest and cherish every single memory one make. Thanksgiving

A unique experience that I had at Norton Women’s and Children’s Hospital was that we also covered labor and delivery and the mother-baby unit. Most of our programming and interventions on these units involved bereavement and grief support, sibling education/support, and memory/legacy making. From my coursework and volunteer experiences at the University of Charleston, South Carolina, I had a solid foundational background with grief and bereavement through our child life courses, our death and dying course, our experiences with Shannon’s Hope, and our experiences with Rainbows. A family is forever changed when there is a loss of a family member, specifically a child (Pearson, 2005). A parents reaction to the death of a child greatly differs

It was the worst thing in my life. One sip of the wrong drink and my best friend, Brady, was in the Intensive Care Unit, with a small change of survival. How was I supposed to know that his ex-boyfriend was going to poison the water supply? No one is supposed to know about that, until it already happened.

Katlynn was out of the hospital after about a week and a half. All of us girls cleaned the house spotless upon her arrival. That may not sound like much, but we were young girls that lived on a farm, so being messy was pretty much our thing. Katlynn came home and we all showered her with hugs. The first week she was home we watched her like a hawk, trying not to make it noticeable. Since Kate got out of the hospital she has to take pills every morning and night, and she had to make a trip to Mason city twice a year. Today she only goes once a year because she hasn’t suffered a seizure since. There have been a few scares here and there, though. It’s been seven and a half years since that terrible day, and Kate’s doing great. She is at the age

I was walking down the halls of The Children’s Hospital of Pennsylvania after an appointment. Every hall had a different theme, the point being to attract the little kids, but one, in particular, had caught my eye. The waves and fish on the walls lead me to a window that glassed a room full of kids. I saw doctors with them, but they looked as if they were just playing with the kids, doing everyday things. A passing doctor caught my stare and approached me, and being at least 12 at the time, I blurted, “what is this?” The doctor went on to tell me that I was watching Occupational Therapy. He explained that not everyone can do the things I do every day, and it was the therapist’s job to help them. Being 12 at the time, I was naive to the fact

I applaud you for being an emergency room nurse and being attentive enough to be able to catch a potential complication for the patient. My husband had an anaphylactic reaction to Morphine after a knee surgery several years ago. Recently, my husband went to an emergency room with chest pain and diaphoresis. The admission clerk immediately took my husband immediately took my husband back and alerted the nurse. The facility he went to is one my husband that has all of his current history which included his allergy. The nurse obtained lab, an electrocardiogram, and ordered a chest x-ray. She then informed the doctor of my husband’s status. The nurse then brought a syringe full of medication and nitroglycerin to my husband’s bedside. She gave my

On Thursday June 14, 2017, I had to return a page from the emergency room (ER) doctor for and admit. When I returned the page the ER doctor wanted to admit a patient with stage 4 brain cancer that was a DNR for hospice care. I told the ER doctor that this was not an appropriate because this patient needed and wanted hospice care and that the hospitalist did not need to be involved. The ER doctor proceeded to tell me that I don’t want to do my job and I need to admit the patient so he could get the care that he needed. When he told me that over the phone I almost lost my cool and professionalism in a matter of seconds. I hung up the phone and walked down to the ER. I went into the patient room and spoke to the family members and they told me

I was at Beloit Memorial Hospital on September 17th 2012 giving birth. I was in a lot of pain and the nurses had the anesthesiologist paged to relieve my pain. The staff from anesthesiologist office never showed up. I suffered through many hours of hard labor with no relief from my pain. I feel very frustrated with the Beloit Memorial Hospital on the way I was treated.

The finish line approached fast, my confidence had built as I forced my way towards the end. Still in front, I couldn't quite believe it. I was finally over the line. The roar of noise pierced my ears, serving to snap me back into this reality. The feeling of relief was immense. Arms all around me, like a cradle I wanted to fall back into, as my legs felt like giving way. I was exhilarated but

I earned 14 hours for service for this activity. I continued working in my shift in the ICU. In the ICU, the main jobs are refilling the drawers in the not occupied rooms and ensuring that the supply closets are full. Sometimes, I clear the storage unit, that contains towels, sheets, pillow cases, and rags, from yarn. The yarn is used to tie the a stack of linen together and they are usually all over the place. If I get the chance, I throw out the excess yarn and untie the stacks. When I was doing this, a nurse thanked me because everyone is so busy and does not have time to clean up the yarn. I continued to do my jobs, but towards the end of my shift, I begin to become tired. I developed time efficient system that allowed me to maximize the

AS 2.4: With my hands gripping the arms as I sat on the edge of the seat, I gazed at the action on my television screen. My family is jumping with excitement as they watch the rider take the lead. Faster and faster and faster they go as they pump their bright, red legs covered in mud and scratches. We scream at the TV as they get closer to the finish. They pedal harder, gritting their teeth and gripping their handle bars as they stand off their seats. Only moments away now, they pedal faster than a cheetah chasing after it’s prey.