Cancer - This Nurse’s Nightmare P3
I went back to work with my badge of courage, a scare that runs from under my right shoulder blade to five inches above my right wrist. I have never tried to hide it. I think of this as something to remind me that I am a survivior. As little as I thought about it, others could not let their curiosity go unanswered. Did your husband cut you? I had long since been divorced. Were you in a fight? I would turn, smile sweetly, and say “yes, I was in the fight for my life, I had cancer and won!” The response was usually “oh, I’m sorry.” Why was the first thing they thought of me was that a Black woman could only have a scar like this from violence?
Well I was back to work with a long list of what I could not do. Did I follow this? Heck no! I was a Psych nurse and at times had to do physical take downs. There I was right in the middle of a fracas. My nursing team would protect me when there was enough staff to not need my help. One night I thanked them for trying to take care of me. They all piped up saying, “Lillie we don’t want you to have to go back to the hospital because we don’t know who we will get to replace you.” From what I heard through the grapevine, the Head Nurses that were brought in during my absence left a lot to be desired.
After 11 surgeries I thought all my pain would be gone but it was not. For the next eleven years I worked in mild to moderate pain. I was just glad that I still had a functioning right arm. Yes it was scarred and slightly shorter, but it worked and so did I. But that “pleasure” would be shot lived.
I fell again. This time I did break my nice metal parts.My doctor John Murphy, a wonderful man who had followed me all these years, searched to find a doctor to repair this mess I called my arm. My first doctor, William Bowman, refused this pleasure. But I would like to thank him for his care during my first surgeries. Kaiser San Diego sent me to the Kaiser in Baldwin Park, near Los Angeles. There I met my new doctor, Dr.Helmstatter. I was set for more surgeries. One 2 hour biopsy done by Dr. Murphy in San Diego, and then the biggies. I endured 5 hours to remove the old parts and ten hours to replace them, three weeks later. I am now 4 years post surgeries and retired. I could not take the chance on breaking these parts as they said they would not be able to repair the arm again if there was a “next time”. I came through that nightmare and survived it. The sky is blue and all is right with the world.
Stay tuned for more of This Nurse’s nightmare.