TEXAS MEDICAL CENTER, MICHAEL E DEBAKEY VETERANS HOSPITAL – 2026 for me has been a rough year medically, with two bowel obstructions, two episodes of Diabetic Ketoacidosis (DKA), and a surgery to remove most of my toxic gallbladder. So this year I’ve spent well over three weeks in the hospital, which is my worst year since 1999, when I spent the entire summer, Memorial Day to Labor Day, plus another month following a major surgery and other treatments, stuck in a hospital room. It’s a lonely existence, but more than likely, the boredom contributed to my current mindly existence that allows me to write stuff even A.I. is unable to think up. Over the years in my hospital stays I’ve been subject to many nursing students’ assistance, both female and male, some good, most shy and a little underwhelming in their performance, but over time they would improve. I’ve had a student nurse once, just before he graduated, that was so capable, he handled the entire shift himself. He has since gone on to work at Breckenridge in Austin, and is probably a charge nurse since it’s been about 16 years in the profession for him. Besides their nurse instructors, in my opinion the most helpful person to a student nurses career preparation are the nurses they are paired with during their hospital shifts in the final school years.
Now, not all RN’s in hospitals are natural teachers to their nursing student charges, but this past weekend I witnessed a well-above averaged coupling, where my nurse Kristy, an RN of Cambodian origin, who was a baby during Pol Pot’s killing fields being babysat by her 3 year old brother while her Mom worked the fields. Kristy worked with Audrey, 20, a third-year nursing student from Texas Women’s University, having been back in Houston since the fall, following two years of foundation-forming prerequisite courses, which are taught north of Fort Worth. Audrey is from Friendswood, which is special for me because my most impactful teacher, Mary Alice Hopper-McEachern, lived there with her husband during my first-grade year at Pearland ISD’s then, Brookside Elementary (E.A. Lawhon). My parents and I revered Mrs. M because I literally was a kindergarten terror coming out of Gage Elementary in Houston the previous year, and Mom and Dad went hat in hand to explain my wildness to her as best they could. Mrs. McEachern specialized in Special Education before it was even an official program, and was essential in starting me on my learning journey after numerous paddlings (completely necessary); and her threat of removing art projects from me if my behavior was lacking was a stroke of brilliance, and led me to a wonderful lifelong relationship with learning. My degree is in technology, but because of Mrs. M, I’ve come to love the arts, entertainment, music, food, drink, history, space, finance, etc. Incredibly, I was the first student Mary Alice ever saw graduate from high school, she and her husband having moved from Port Lavaca before her students graduated. In fact, I still have the pen graduation gift she gave me. I eulogized her in 2017 when she passed away.
It was a lazy Saturday I would say, and the stars were essentially aligning for an excellent day of care in the hospital for me. And after a setback a few days earlier, when I had a bowel obstruction on Thursday 4/9, I was forced again to entertain my old friend, the nasogastric tube, which extended my hospital stay, but at the same time normalized my surgical incision from my gallbladder surgery, of now I feel no pain when getting in or out of bed, so I was essentially waiting for my bowel obstruction to clear. The BO snuck up on me, and even being a patient who is well recognized in detecting its symptoms it still happened, as did an IV infiltration earlier on my right arm when it bulged in size by half. After I was started on real food, my surgical team cut me off cold turkey from my 150 IV fluid rate when my bowels were not ready, and I should have recognized it as an issue and asked for a reduced rate, but by the time I realized my abdomen was too distended to recover from drinking oral fluids alone. And when my IV fluids were restarted it would be Sunday 4/12 before I was able to restart oral fluids.
When Audrey arrived on the morning of Saturday 4/11, I could read that she was energetic and willing to learn, and as I saw Kristy’s natural ability to teach, of which she confesses that she doesn’t see herself as a nurse educator, but otherwise I could see the afternoon was going to be an event. Interestingly, I provided the last vital element in this celestial alignment; a well experienced patient that is willing to assist Audrey in her journey. It’s nothing that I haven’t done before, being as helpful to any student nurse who is willing to listen and learn. I showed Audrey all of my expectations in handling IV lines, and the machine itself. I also gave a lecture on judging patient experiences, which for me is very important. For instance, if you don’t review my fifty mile-long record before approaching me, and come to me saying things like, “have you poohed, or peed?,” and it’s not just nurses, it’s the BCM doctors themselves; to me it’s like being a PhD, being talked down to by a bunch of first grade white coaters. It’s unprofessional, and I’m embarrassed for them in the use of their rhetoric. Truly, I believe a nurse-patient relationship should begin in a 1-10 of ‘what do you classify your patient experience as being , 1 – Novice to 10 – We’ll Experienced.’ For me it’s a ten with bowel obstructions, but being a new DKA patient, and having had my first surgery in 16 years, I would lower my experience in those areas to a 6 or 7. Based on the patient’s experience, nurses and doctors can adjust their speech in addressing the patient’s concerns. I think that Audrey has a better understanding of that now, and will be a much better nurse for it.
As the day grew, Audrey slowly took over Kristy’s concerns, hanging IV bags, distributing medications from the nurses roving computer/medication station. I gave her some extra insights in giving crushed medications in distilled water through an NG Tube. When it came time for a suppository, Audrey had no qualms in the anal insertion of the medication in my holy of my holies. Thankfully the result was successful in getting my bowels moving again.
And as their shifts drew to a close, both Kristy, Audrey, as well as Audrey’s colleague Sara, gathered around my bedside where I showed them pictures from my iPad Pro of when I had cancer 28 years ago with my first NG Tube, when I looked literally like a Holocaust victim. I also showed pictures of my time in East Berlin, and Iraq, which garnered some ‘Wows.’ I didn’t show the pics to impress them, but more as a gesture to exhibit that each patient has a history, a unique life built around a set of circumstances that presented them in their current happenstance at the hospital. I kidded with Audrey, and her placement of my suppository, comparing the achievement to the NASA Mach 32 patch that the Artemis astronauts can wear on their kit around the office showing some extra pride in going to the moon and back. Perhaps her badge could be a gloved finger inside an anus? It would be an interesting thing to wear on her scrubs, but I could detect that even in my jestful moment over a suppository placement patch, Audrey was secretly proud of helping me feel better. And I’m grateful for her work and sacrifice to such a noble cause at such a young age.
In my experience with TWU nursing students over the years, I can tell they come from a cut above other schools, and this experience between a great nurse, a great student, and a sometimes unruly patient was special, a rare alignment of patient care elements can really spark a brilliant medical career. I want to thank Kristy, Audrey, and Texas Women’s University for what they do. I believe that with my recent surgery, my body can now find some peace for a while, and drag me away from the feeling that I can be fine in the morning, and on the way to the ER in the evening. I’ve known so much pain in my life, but thankfully I’m still grateful to be alive and to be doing what I do.