You are currently browsing the monthly archive for July 2010.
Monthly Archive
Ready for the Extraordinary Today?
July 16, 2010 in COMMUNITY & SOCIAL ENTERPRISE, FAITH, HOME & FAMILY, Uncategorized, WORKPLACE | by coachjsteele | Leave a comment
How many of you go to work on any given day expecting a fairly normal routine day, somewhat ordinary and predictable? Most days, I confess that I do.
Today my wife Jackie and I took our daughter Gabrielle to Connecticut Children’s Medical Center in Hartford Connecticut. It is a facility that we have probably become way too familiar with. We saw a nurse named Amy that will forever be remembered and loved by us, especially me for a “day” that was anything but ordinary.
Gaby spent about 8 months out of the first two years of her life at CCMC. We knew every doctor, nurse, respiratory therapist, intern, nurses aid, cleaning staff and fellow that ever walked the 3rd floor of that facility from 2002-2004. Most of these unplanned trips were due to Gaby contracting pneumonia and the trips had many stories that were scary, stressful, and exhausting; but believe it or not they became somewhat routine for the life you lead as the parents of a child with congenital muscular dystrophy.
This day was different though, very different. Kind of like that bad storm or tornado day that you never forget, and you remember the look of the sky that day, and it makes the hair on the back of your head stand up. Gaby had pneumonia, and had been in the hospital for about 2 weeks. Jackie was exhausted and I told her to go home as we “routinely” rotated every other day staying at the hospital or at home with our other 3 children. It was my turn to be with Gaby on this night, a night I will never forget. She was getting a breathing treatment not unlike what asthma patients get with a nebulizer and inhaled medicine, something she had received probably more than 100 times in her life. I was talking casually to the respiratory therapist as we were the only other individuals in her room. I checked her monitors which included breaths per minutes (normal about 30), heart rate (normal about 100 beats per minute), and oxygen level in the blood (normal over 90%). All were fairly ordinary when the treatment began.
Then I noticed that her blood oxygen was a little lower than usual at 90%, but didn’t give it a second thought as like a fire drill, most of the time these readings can be false alarms. Not this time. Within minutes the room was filled with a dozen staff (nurses, doctors, respiratory therapists, etc). I was confused and scared, then I started to pay attention to the monitors more closely, heart rate dropping to 70s while blood oxygen dropping into the 60s. I never saw her vitals that low. When I looked over at Gaby surrounded by medical professionals, she appeared grey and lifeless. I began to pray. This is when Amy jumped on the bed and began using a rescue breathing bag to attempt to revive my daughter. People were screaming, and Amy was working feverishly while my daughter’s numbers dropped like a rock; heart rate 50 and blood oxygen 40s. I was almost at the point of passing out when her life which looked to be fading away, began miraculously to turn around; and her vital signs slowly (and I mean slowly) were creeping back to acceptable levels. As Gaby stabilized, Amy got off her bed, completely drenched in sweat, and her face was white as a sheet. I think she wanted to hug me and I know I wanted to hug her, but neither of us had the strength to even speak.
I’m sure Amy thought that being a nurse in a pediatric intensive care unit would be satisfying and intense at times, but something tells me that being a part of saving my daughter’s life that day was more than she bargained for. How do I know this? Every year we return with Gaby for a routine overnight to check out her tracheotomy, ventilator, etc and we see Amy. For six years straight now, I always thank her for that day; yet Amy has never said a word to me in response – she is clearly uncomfortable, and usually just leaves the room. She also remembers that day was not an ordinary day, even for an experienced intensive care unit nurse. Amy was a part of something EXTRAORDINARY that day, and it was this EXTRAORDINARY event saved my daughter’s life.
Are you ready for an EXTRAORDINARY day today? Are you in the place where you feel you can be a part of an EXTRAORDINARY life changing event? If not, it may be time to seek these types of opportunities and arrive at work ready to change someone’s life forever.


ddna.org
tangoalliance.org
Recent Comments