Chappell 1 “Narrative Essay (Very) Rough Draft” I had been in hospital rooms many times before, but this was the first time that I was the patient anxiously awaiting their results. I sat on the hospital bed and nervously kicked my legs back and forth as I stared at the door, willing the doctor to walk through it. After a long wait I grew tired of this, and shifted focus to my surroundings. I had been admitted to Scottish Rite hospital, a branch of the Children’s Healthcare of Atlanta. Being a children’s hospital meant that the nurses wore cartoon print scrubs, the walls were painted in bright colors, the televisions were always turned to either Disney Channel or Nickelodeon, and everyone treated you like royalty. They did everything they could to mask the fact that it was indeed a hospital. However, I was too old to be fooled. I knew exactly where I was and what that meant, and that was that nothing good could come from being here. “I’m sorry for the wait,” said the doctor as he finally walked through the door. I had become so lost in my thoughts I hadn’t realized another …show more content…
twenty minutes passed, meaning we had been waiting over an hour just to speak with him. Before he said anything else, he turned on the bright screen up against the wall and posted one single x-ray against it. The black and blue picture lit up as the skeleton of my back was put on display. I froze as soon as I spotted it, and turned to my mother. Her face had drained of all color as she stood there as shocked as I was. Chappell 2 “As you may be able to see, she has a fracture straight across her L5 vertebrae, as well as through both the pars on either side,” said the doctor. I stared at the x-ray in disbelief, this could not be happening. Though I had been in an immense amount of pain over the last three months, I had willed myself into believing I was fine. This had been partially influenced by my parents and my coaches, because anytime I mentioned it they would tell me I was over exaggerating and that serious back injuries at my age were highly unlikely. This was both a comfort and an annoyance. I thought it must have meant that I was being weak and overly sensitive, so I made sure to work even harder every day and to push the pain out of my mind. Clearly, that was a bad decision. The injury happened three months prior to this day, on November 7th, 2009. Early on that Saturday morning, I was warming up on the uneven bars at the Nifty November competition. I had been a gymnast my entire life, and this was the first competition of the level 8 season. Entering level 8 was a big deal for me, because I was now able to qualify for major competitions such as regionals and nationals. There was a lot of pressure to do well, but just as much excitement. For nearly ten years I had been training every day for several hours. Gymnastics consumed by every thought and dictated my every action. I spent more time in the gym than I did in my actual home, and my team and coaches were my second family. I honestly thought I could never live without them or the sport. I couldn’t have been more wrong. As I warmed up my routine, I over rotated and fell off the top bar. I landed on straight legs, and then crumbled to the ground. It was the most intense pain I had ever felt, it began in my lower back and radiated throughout my entire body. Although deep down I knew I shouldn’t go on, I was too stubborn to scratch the event. I had never left a competition early, and I didn’t want to start then. So I got up, finished my warm up, and returned to the bench to wait for my next turn. Chappell 3 The next day, I woke up in so much pain I could barely move. As soon as my feet hit the ground I wanted to scream, and had to quickly lay back down. The pain shot through my entire lower body. I had broken several bones before, it came with doing such a high intensity sport, but none of them had ever felt like this. I didn’t tell anyone about the injury that day, or for the several days that followed. I was hoping it would just go away, but it never did. When I finally told my parents and coaches, their reactions surprised me. They said I was over exaggerating my pain, that back injuries were so rare and it was probably just a muscle spasm and to keep going like normal. So that was exactly what I did. For the next three months I pushed the terrible pain out of my mind and kept training and competing to the best of my ability, but on February 17th, 2009, I finally hit my breaking point. It was the day of the Tiger Paw Classic Gymnastics Invitational at Clemson University. This was one of the biggest competitions I had ever been to, and I was very excited to be there. With so much adrenaline pumping through me, I temporarily forget about the pain. That lasted until the final event, the Vault. I never liked the vault, it wasn’t that I was bad at it, I just never cared for it. It was the event that put the most pressure on my back, and the one I had been having the most difficult time doing over the last three months. You are allowed two chances, and your best performance is the one you are scored on. When my turn came, I ran at full speed toward the stationary object and jumped as hard as I could onto the springboard. I almost screamed at the pain that exploded through my body. Once I saluted to the judges, I walked over to my coach and broke down in tears. It was the next day that I was brought to Scottish Rite, and so we are back to where we began. Looking at the fractures in my back was a weird feeling. I was happy to have proof I wasn’t exaggerating the pain, but mortified at the reality of the situation. My back was broken, and that Chappell 4 meant no gymnastics, and no gymnastics meant no life. I’m not being overly dramatic when I say that either, my entire life revolved around the sport. After the initial diagnosis, the doctor informed us that I would have to be out for at least three months. I could have no physical activity other than walking, and I would have to wear a back brace every day. I sat emotionless throughout the appointment, only speaking when asked something directly. I was afraid if I tried anything else I would break down right there. I was able to hold myself together until we reached the car, and then I lost it. It was a loud, horrible, screeching cry that I had never experienced before. It lasted for at least thirty minutes before exhaustion calmed me down. Once it was over I could barely speak, I was reduced to a zombie for the rest of the day. My parents were very sympathetic to my situation, mostly because they felt bad about not believing me in the first place. My coaches were shocked when they heard the news, they had never had such a severe injury at their gym before. My teammates didn’t know how to react, they were all just as dedicated as I was and couldn’t imagine what it would be like to be forced out of the sport, even if it was supposed to be temporary. I assured them that everything was going to be fine, and once I was back I would work harder than ever to regain my abilities and get back to competing. This never happened. When I returned to the doctor after three months passed, he informed us that my back had not healed. After more x-rays and MRIs, it was determined that there wasn’t enough bone for my back to ever fully heal without surgery. I was only twelve at this time, and they didn’t recommend the surgery for someone so young. I was not going to be able to return to gymnastics, and with an unhealed broken back I would now have to live with a continuous pain forever. Or at least, until I decided to have the surgery, which would always hold risks no matter what age I was. Chappell 5 I’m not proud of the way I acted in the several months following the news I would never return to my life as a gymnast.
I felt like a victim that had been robbed of her identity, reduced to an empty vessel with no purpose or goals. This was absolutely ridiculous, because a person’s identity can’t be wrapped around one thing. Just because you’ve lost something you care about doesn’t mean you have lost all purpose in life. Although it took more time than I’d like to admit, I did finally realize this. I discovered that without gymnastics I now had time to try new things, things I never would have been able to do if I was training all day every day. After that I began a new life, and it all started with a
book. I had always loved to read, but I never had time for it before. I could only read around ten books a year, but with all this free time I was now reading about ten books a month. With the discovery that I now had time for reading, I realized I must have time to spend on other things I loved, such as art, music, and traveling. The traveling was the biggest turn around in my life. I could never go anywhere as a gymnast, it was a year round sport that left no time for breaks. Without it, I could now travel with my family whenever I wanted. Since then, I have been to twenty-three countries and over one hundred cities. These experiences have defined who I am and the future I wish to have. I know without a doubt that had I stayed a gymnast I would have been set on a completely different path in life. Even though I will always cherish my time as a gymnast, and continue to miss it, I couldn’t be happier with the life I’ve had without it. Even though breaking my back was a traumatic experience, it really did change my life forever. I once believed that I could never live without gymnastics, but I was right when I said I truly could not have been more wrong.
The first thing I realized during my tour was that I was really uncomfortable. Mary explained that the inpatient facility we were touring which houses male and female adolescents and young women was once before a hospital and that is exactly how it felt. The front entrance to the facility was welcoming, but as soon as we stepped through the doors from the waiting room into the facility it felt cold, plain and scary. During the tour, I witnessed patients taking naps in their rooms (with their doors open), adolescent patients talking together in the game room, and patients of the young women’s program having group. Mary gave a very detailed tour and explanation of their inpatient program.
To determine if the hospital can perform this many operations, one should compute the equipment (operating room) and labor (surgeon) requirements per day and compare it to the current equipment and labor capacity per day.
I am a nursing student at Penn State University. I study diseases, and what they do to the body. I make flash cards to help me memorize the symptoms. This year I started my clinical rounds at a local nursing home. I had never seen a nursing home before. In my head, I pictured a hotel-like place, with old people rolling around in wheelchairs saying “good morning” to the nurses. I pictured a big room where they would go to play checkers and watch black and white films. I pictured a nursing home like they are depicted in movies. It was not like that. Many of the residents are no longer able to communicate. Many need help eating. Many are confused. There, I saw those small, flimsy flash cards come to life. I live a happy, healthy life alongside my happy, healthy family. I knew that there were diseases, and that the diseases can be terrible. But until this year, I had
The Seton Family of Hospitals board meeting originally scheduled for Tuesday, February 23 from 8:00 to 11:00 am has been rescheduled to Thursday, February 25 from 2:00 to 5:00 pm in the Seton Administration Office building in the St. Elizabeth Ann Seton Boardroom.
A bubbly and upbeat nurse was quick to greet me. Nurse Kate is a registered nurse in the state of Ohio with a BSN and currently working on her Masters. She would be the person I would be shadowing that day. She led me in and out of all the emergency rooms for 10 hours. The rooms were a lifeless blue color with typical hospital beds that could be transported anywhere in the hospital. The grayish tile on the floor looked almost new. A curtain acted like a door, but there were walls separating the actual rooms.
A woman walks into the emergency room with terror in her heart as they take the lifeless child from her hands. As panic consumes her, screams fill the ears of those surrounding her. People in scrubs take the blue-faced child out of sight, rushing to keep the small heart pumping. A blond-haired, brown-eyed woman has her hands performing C.P.R. on his tiny chest, “He’s breathing!” echoes in the room. He was yanked back from the light by the hands of a registered nurse. Without a doubt, registered nurses are some of the most crucial people in the medical field.
As a child the sight of an ambulance would send shivers down my spine, the flashing lights and loud horn, the panic as cars comes to a stop, and the terrifying events that followed. Being a witness to such commotion never seemed as horrendous until I became the person inside the ambulance. After experiencing headaches, sore throat, shortness of breath, and the lack of ability to move my left arm my parents sent out a distressed call to the paramedics who then rushed me into the E.R. Within the hour I was no longer on a gurney, but instead was on a hospital bed, tangled in color-coded wires to keep me alive. Hours passed, possibly even days, when I opened my eyes, only to find the words “ Sabrina’s room” on a dashboard in big pink letters. Injected into my left arm was an IV tube that dispensed antibiotic fluids into my suffering body. As I turned my head to look into the mirror I saw that my hair was shaved and a scar remained with staples over it, forming into the shape of an arc.
Healthcare is an evolving industry with a business side that equally compliments its human side. In recent years hospitals across the country have been shifting gears to meet deadlines and health measures predetermined by governing bodies. Often enough these targets are focused on profitability rather than the health of patients. One hospital that stands out amidst these controversies is Pennsylvania Hospital, known as the nation’s first hospital it has stood
We were both young women, in our twenties, when I started working at the hospital. I was fresh out of university, inadequately armed with my family ingrained stiff upper lip, politeness, and compassion. You had already been a patient for 14 years. I find myself walking those accursed grounds again, this time in my mind, tracing your probable journey. It was common to most patients.
I walk through the doors of the emergency department and I am greeted by a cacophony of sound and a barrage of fluorescent lighting. I hear the familiar hum of blood pressure cuffs filling with air, the steady blip of cardiac monitors, the low buzz of people talking punctuated every so often by an exclamation. In the waiting area, there are forty people waiting in chairs and five people queued up to see triage or registration. To an outsider this environment might look like chaos but as an emergency room nurse the chaos has become familiar and quotidienne.
It had only been two minutes since the phone call, but it felt like an hour. I began to panic after I walked down every hallway that I could find on both floors and still had no luck in finding the nurse’s office. I was convinced that this office did not exist and that all my efforts in finding it would be for nothing. I was embarrassed about asking for help because I did not want to feel like a little kid. Even though I was still thirteen, one of the youngest in my grade, I was 5’11” and in high school, so everyone expected me to act like an adult.
I was able to shadow a physician and a nurse at my current placement in Family Medicine.
Lying sprawled out on the floor within an aisle of a Barnes and Noble bookstore, the crisp snapping of pages on my sweaty fingers accelerates my heart rate to a rapid level. My mind has escaped to a new paradise, I have lost connection with the world around me and have encircled myself with an array of mystery novels. However, they are not the conventional mysterious reads about ghosts and haunted houses, but instead, they are the inspiring and captivating stories of medicine. I find myself entering a trauma operating room, with a little boy on the operating table who has just been airlifted from a car accident. I can hear from outside the operating room his mother crying and banging on the window, screaming “do not let my little boy die”.
It happened at the end of freshman year, so suddenly. June 21st 2017 I was sent to Georgetown behavioral health, the hospital that changed my life. The day was oddly grey in the summer of Georgetown, I was playing video games with my step sister and cousins, my step sister is loving and caring, she’s like an innocent little flower, my cousins are twins with blonde hair and blue eyes, i love both of them but they can be annoying at times. my step parents, Cheryl and Jason Barzee, and my aunt, Lisa Malick, walked into the room, calmly asking the other kids to leave.
When I did gymnastics I felt empowered. When I did gymnastics I felt happy. When I did gymnastics I felt alive.