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Raise your hand if you have a murmur I can’t hear because your baseline heart rate is 150bpm 

Sweet Preemie Warrior,

As I walk to the unit, I thank Jesus for my job as a NICU nurse. As I scrub in, I pray that God will use my hands and feet to serve Him. I pray that His Grace will light my path for the long hours ahead. Entering the unit, I take report from a nurse finishing her shift and hear the story of the little warrior assigned to my care. I prepare to provide the critical and sometimes very complicated care you need. I sometimes hold my breath as I prepare to meet you, To cover the sound of my heart gasping as it sees you for the first time. Lifting the cover blocking the bright lights of the Hospital I see you and begin my patient assessment with the knowledge of science and a clinical nursing mind. Yet when your little eyes meet mine they penetrate my soul and speak to my nursing heart.  My spirit prays with words that are not my own. I pray for mercy compassion and tenderness to fall from my hands as I hold your little head to calm you in a moment of fear. I pray for strength and perseverance to burrow into your heart and fortify you from the inside out. I pray for peace and comfort to wrap you in warmth with such quiet power that you fall into a healing sleep. I pray that each feeding we administer gives you the nutrients you need in your long NICU battle. I pray that the presence of Hope and Faith shower your Mommy and Daddy and bring them comfort during the long hours of sitting next to your crib. I pray that every Doctor, Nurse and RTT that touch your tiny body are given wisdom and tender hands and are guided by our heavenly Father as they provide care.  I pray little one that our Father in Heaven will use me in some way to protect, care and love you during your NICU journey. Your little eyes speak to me and bring my heart to its knees in prayer. Every tiny victory you have brings me joy that fall out of my eyes in shiny happy tears. Every setback breaks my heart and makes me more determined in prayer and protective advocacy of your care. I pray that angels stand guard around your isolette and sing you lullaby’s long after I punch out. I want you to know I see you Sweet Preemie Warrior. I see you. I promise to pray for you, fight for you and fight with you as you navigate the art of growing in strength and stature. Thank you Jesus for the love and passion that you have filled my heart with for your littlest warriors. I am honored, humbled and blessed to love them, fight for them and to care for each little one you place in my life <3 

I spat my drink out. 😂

I had two patients the other day: a 520g micropreemie and a 5.1 Kg tank that the Panda warmer just could not handle. 😂 Both super cuties.

this is why we need vaccines (x) | follow @the-future-now

So true..

Reblog if you’re more than happy to have people trance you through your inbox!

I’d love some of that~

Yess

😂😂😂😂😂😂😂 @mxxn-kitten

The Osiria Rose has a exquisite colour combination. The petals are blood-red on the inside and pure silvery-white on the outside.

Beautiful

Punish me daddy 😝😜

God yes

Reblog if you’re more than happy to have people trance you through your inbox!

I’d love some of that~

Yess

The Question

I was thinking the other day about “The Question”, as I call it.

You know the question I’m talking about.

It’s asked by family at dinner, friends at their houses, and strangers in the bar:

“Oh you’re  (in EMS/a Nurse/Doctor/etc? What’s the worst thing you’ve ever seen?”

We all know that question, we’ve all heard it.

The first time I heard it was from my brother. I was back home. getting a drink with him and his girlfriend. He asked the questions.

I paused and considered. 

What do you say?

Do you tell them the actual worst thing? The things that you still think about, that you may have felt with emotionally but still pop up unwanted every once in a while?

Should I have told him about the time I had to tell a father his 8 year old daughter had died in the night and there was nothing we could do?

Or about the 14-year old who had carved the word “BITCH” onto her leg with a razor?

Or maybe about the 15-week old fetus that was still hanging out of it’s traumatized mother?

Instead, I told him about doing CPR on a man and making eye contact with his daughter. Something relatively tame.

Now, I don’t blame people for asking this question. They don’t know. They’re genuinely curious. They don’t know what we, as healthcare providers, see day in and day out.

That doesn’t make it any easier on us though. 

We have a damn hard job, don’t we?

It’s hard to explain, too. Impossible, in some cases. 

We all have our demons, our calls, our patients who don’t ever truly leave us. 

I guess my point in all this is that we are a special breed of people. Not everyone could do our job and still remain a sane, functional human being. 

So, my hat is off to all of you. All of you EMTs and Medics, Nurses and Doctors, every one of you who has gone home after a long day and cried, and still cry. 

But remember, you are not alone in your grief. We are a family. 

Dysfunctional though we may be, we are, and we will support each other. A listening ear, a tight embrace, we will be there for each other. 

Because if we aren’t, who will be?

Reach out if you’re having trouble.

We are not invincible. 

Not mine but so powerful.

Trying to help another nurse out when her patient is a wreck...

An attending, fed up with a repeat patient.

my granddad just called me to tell me how big his cauliflowers are growing and it was so cute theyre “TWICE as big as the ones you get in the shop”

i told my granddad this post has 3,500 notes and he said ‘who are they? do i know them?’ he wanted me to list everyone and see if he knew anyone

If you don’t reblog cauliflower granddad, then you’re just a mean person.