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Advanced Practice Nursing
  • Learning to Savor the Small Moments

    I have found as I navigate this bizarre world of both patient and provider that it is the small moments that can make the biggest impact. We often are not even cognizant of the impact until much later, but they make an impact and a difference in our journey and path we forge trying to achieve the wonder that we call remission from symptoms. This week for me has been fragile, full of triggering moments leaving me feeling as if I’m dangling on a cliff’s edge one moment and then left speechless with a small moment of how far I have come the next.

    I encountered a woman this week who is the twin of a nurse I had during the last psychiatric hospitalization, back in June 2013. She was a kind white haired woman who took the time to sit with me during her shift and check in. She talked with me about how we were nearly neighbors, told me things about common threads we wove, and talked to me at length about sometimes how long it can take to find the right cocktail of medication for bipolar disorder. She knew because of a family member. She shared that with me. She shared that when it works and you find the magic combination it’s like Christmas morning.  It did not take as long for me to find the magic combination as it took for her family member. I digress. I was so excited when I saw this woman this week for I was sure it was my former nurse. I wanted nothing more to embrace her and tell her how her words helped me and were an integral part of the reason I am here today, doing what I do. She is one of very few providers from my inpatient stays who made a difference and I wanted her to hear that and see it in the flesh.

    I had one horrible psychiatric hospitalization in February 2013 that left me feeling disoriented and not ready for reentry when I came out. My husband, when he picked me up, handed me a Starbucks venti chai latte extra hot with soymilk along with a brand new iPhone 5 fully loaded with all the apps he thought I would like. Both have been my crutch ever since and typically not far from my hand. The other night, my youngest (by two minutes) informed me I spent too much time with my phone and that it was going to stop. I looked at him and agreed. Last night, I picked up all the boys and took them on a date. No phone. We had a ball. I learned so much about them and we laughed, played games, and talked through our meal. I didn’t pick it up again until I was in bed for the night. They have slowly been learning I am a safe, dependable parent, but now they can learn I am a present parent too. I just have to figure out what we can do tonight – phone free and without my crutch.

    The best part about my job as a psych APRN is when a patient finds their own small moment that is pivotal for them, helped them see the hope in a situation they thought otherwise and they bring it to me. My patients don’t know my story; they don’t understand the passion I pour into my career to see them succeed, as it is irrelevant to achieving remission for them. And they definitely don’t get to see my happy dance after they leave on their small moment days. But it’s there.

    Now I just hope my front office staff never figures out YouTube.