Good work

Dr. Coldwell and I at my wedding:-)

My phone had been on the fritz since my running episode.  Unable to use the very bottom of my touch screen, I was unable to access my keypad, voicemail or missed calls.  So when I got a new phone there were a few voicemails waiting on me.  The majority were out of state and were staffing agencies and calls regarding a trip I had won to the Bahamas but there was one from a local unknown number.  I listened and much to my surprise and excitement it was a call from a woman that I worked with at CMC.  They were planning a retirement party for one of the doctors/CMC reunion party.  I was and still am ecstatic!!

I began my journey at CMC upon returning from New Jersey when I was 22 years old.  I had just started my second semester of nursing school and had planned on being a Neonatal Nurse Practitioner so I knew that I wanted to work with children and I applied at all of the hospitals.  I remember my interview.  I had worked since I was 15 years old so I wasn’t new to the interview process.  But all of my other jobs had been in fast food, banks, sales and my most recent—a CNA on an adult med/surg unit so this one was different.  This was the starting of my life journey in my career field.  This was what I had been planning on going into since a senior in high school.  During the interview I told the manager about being in nursing school and wanting to be a NNP.  She explained that CMC was different—boy was it ever.   CMC was a long term rehab facility for children with special needs.  We were much like a hospital within a hospital.  (Some of you may remember the old CMC off of Skelly—I was not able to work there but from what I am told it was even better than the unit I did get to be a part of.)  We had two physicians who admitted patients.  Although I respected both, I grew a great affinity for Dr. Coldwell.  A thin, older man in his 70’s with a soft voice who walked with a slight lean forward.  At first glance, he may have appeared “too old”, “too frail”, and even to some “too quiet” to be a doctor.  At first glance, he probably didn’t come across as the man who still ran a mile a day or the man who is probably the most brilliant person I know.  But his love for these children shined through in all that he did.  His knowledge ran over.  Often times, even now, I found myself mentally taking notes as he talked over my IQ level—not purposefully but he treated us nurses and even nurse aides as equals.  I still remember seeing his pure love shine through in the simplest manner as I was walking through the hall of CMC.  We had received a visit from a previous patient whose foster mom had come back to say hello.  As I approached the elevator, my heart melted as I watched this thin man pick up this little boy who was maybe three at the time and at least thirty pounds.  He lifted him up so the child could push the button to call the elevator—a simple joy all children love.  The smile on the child’s face as well as Dr. Coldwell’s was unforgettable.  That simple act of kindness and love still fills my good CMC memory box today. 

I stayed at CMC for five years—my longest employment at any one place although I did have a very short leaving.  When I was in my final semester of nursing school, I took an externship in the neonatal intensive care unit because after all, I wanted to be a NNP.  I despised the NICU.  I didn’t enjoy the routine at all.  Vitals, diaper change, feed, chart and repeat every 3 hours.  Sure, there was more excitement at a delivery, when taking in a new patient but there was little patient/nurse interaction.  I felt like I nursed the machines—constantly watching monitors, tubes and IV lines.  I missed the interaction with my CMC patients.  They had so much personality.   I’m not saying that these babies didn’t but I didn’t get to interact with them as much as I did my CMC patients.  A lot of our CMC patients didn’t have family that visited and we were their family.  So we had fun like families do.  We would dance and sing, play games, have movie nights, go out to watch fireworks, and take trips to the water sprinkler.  The children were wild and unruly at times but they were such a joy to care for.  Every day was something new and exciting.  (Side note—we did do our CNA and nurse duties also!!  but I feel like we did a better job at taking care of the whole patient by making things fun and truly interacting with them.  Consider that we had patients who were there for years because their care was too complicated to send to a foster home or because no one had taken them home yet.)  It was at CMC that I formed some of my best friendships as well.  The majority of women that I worked with, I still talk to this very day.  I cannot say that about any other job or even so much for high school either.    

After 5 years of working there, we had gone through a lot of changes.  I had transitioned from CNA to Registered Nurse.  But the unit was changing.  There was a strong push to get our patients into homes and out of the hospital—an understandable desire but not always the best option.  Our unit was going to mandatory 12 hour shifts.  This didn’t affect me as much as it did some of the women who had worked 8 hour shifts for years and whose care for their children revolved around being off at 3:30 every day.  Our manager had left and now our unit was being run by someone who had no idea what we were even about.  And then finally, our unit was being closed for “cleaning” and we were being moved up to the general pediatric floor.  We were told that this would just be temporary but we all knew this was just another step in phasing out the CMC unit and patient intake.  I was young and unhappy.  I didn’t like the tone that the unit had taken on.  I didn’t like the politics of management and I didn’t want to be a part of that team anymore.  We had already lost 5 of the other women I called friends and I felt like it was my time to go as well. 

Since leaving, the unit has completely closed.  After the nurse manager deciding who the doctor can admit, a flurry of floating the nurses to other units and a complete disrespect for the orders the doctors wrote for, the patient load dwindled to nothing.  The hospital stated in a press release that CMC would be closing due to the lack of need but we all know that it was due to money.  Long term care for pediatric patients doesn’t pay like the NICU.    It’s painful to think that there is no longer a CMC.  We have often joked and thrown the idea around that we need to just open another CMC.  A center with physical therapy, occupational therapy, speech therapy all in one location.  A center where tube feedings and medication schedules can be established or modified.  A holistic center that cares for the children that are truly left behind.  (We saw children from birth to 21 who had issues varying from sickle cell anemia, prader willi, shaken baby, head trauma, seizures, PKU, MVA’s, drug withdrawal newborns, near drowning, autism and more complicated genetic metabolic issues.)

I think my time at CMC was all part of God’s plan.  My desire to be a NNP got me into nursing school and on the search for a job in a hospital with children.  But through my time there, God revealed a passion for children who needed extra care throughout their lifespan.  He revealed a passion for those who had often been rescued through life saving techniques only to be left behind.  CMC changed and molded me into a nurse who cares deeply for these children with chronic health issues and even more for those children who have no family to go back to.  I will forever be thankful to God, to CMC, to my manager for hiring me, to all of the wonderful women I worked with, to the children I cared for and to my mentor, Dr. James Coldwell.  A future CMC or even just an outpatient clinic to provide primary care services may be in our plans—only God knows how He will use this experience.

“For I am confident of this very thing, that He who began a good work in you will perfect it until the day of Christ Jesus.” Philippians 1:6

Two of my favorite CMC ladies at my wedding @naomimaliske and @Genamaute

...whatever you do, do all for the glory of GOD

We received a photo in the mail today from a man that we do not know.  We have never met this man but he heard the story of our son Gideon.  This picture that was a pencil drawing of a newborn photo that our friend and photographer, Sara Rose, had taken was drawn by a man who acted on God’s direction.  Joe McNutt drew us a picture and sent it to us without ever knowing us.  Along with the photo, came 2 articles and a brief letter from him.  The letter simply stated that he was a heart recipient and he thinks about his donor everyday and to remember that our gift is never forgotten.  The articles told his story… 

It seems Joe was a health nut.  He never smoked, never drank, ate right and ran 5 miles a day but in 1993, he had a heart attack.  In 1994, he had another one and this one placed him in the hospital for 3 months and at the top of the transplant list at Baptist Medical in OKC.  He was bed bound for his entire hospital stay.  One night his 4 year old grand-daughter was leaving from a visit with him and he asked her to climb in his lap and pray for him because God listens to children.  She began to pray for her various family members and then she prayed for her grandpa to get a new heart and for the doctors who would be putting the heart in.  She left at 1020 that night and at 1030 the nurse came in and ecstatically told him that there was a heart for him.  There was a slight problem though because the heart was small and Joe was a big man.  There was a risk of using a small heart in his big body but it was his decision since he was at the top of the list and there was another man there that could use it and who it would fit better.  He asked for time to think, at which she said okay but to hurry because they needed to start prepping someone for surgery.  He prayed and decided to give the heart to the other man.  –I want to stop right here.  Here is a man who has a 16% ejection fraction and when he stands that number drops to 9%.  He has been confined to a hospital bed for 3 months.  He has a heart standing in front of him, ready for the taking.  There is a chance that it may not be efficient but it’s a heart and obviously a viable option because they are offering it to him.  This man gives up that heart to someone else not knowing when or if his next chance will come. 

He was left in the room wondering, “What have I done?”  Then 10 minutes later, the nurse comes back and excitedly exclaims that they have another heart and this one will fit him!!—so here I see a man given a heart, he prays about it, receives an answer to give it away, follows through with that decision and then God blesses him almost instantly with a more fitting heart!  Talk about obedience. 

So this man loved art.  He started drawing when he was in the 1^st grade and moved onto oil paintings when he was in the 6^th grade.   He went on to work for the FAA in a time before computers and drew blueprints, signage, training materials and instrumentation designs.  Then in 2001, 7 years after his heart transplant, he was in a terrible car accident that left him with severe nerve damage that affected the feeling and function of his hands.  His painting came to a screeching halt.  In 2007, he decided to give pencil sketching a try because at least if he messed up, he could erase it!  In the summer of that year, he received the LifeShare newsletter and he was touched by a story that had been published about one of the donors.  He decided that he would draw the family a picture and capture their son.  On the signature, he wrote “Glory be to God” and enclosed a letter much like the one sent to us.  He has since sketched over 200 photos for LifeShare donor families.  The article states that when his right hand becomes to shaky to continue, he will hold his right wrist with his left hand so that he can finish.  Can you imagine?  I can see this man’s heart from miles away.  I can picture him being obedient to God, sketching, shaking and steadying as he completes this photo for a family that he has never met.  Talk about sacrifice.  Talk about seeing how something that God has used for good.  At any point, this man could have turned from his faith.  At any time, he could have just given up but he listened to God’s calling and now he sketches these beautiful photos, these beautiful memories to people that he has never met.  He will never know the value, the meaning that this photo has for me, for my family.  Sure, I will write him and I will thank him but he will never truly know and feel what I am feeling.  He will not know my tears or hear my sobs.  He will not experience what is in my heart.  My letter to him could never bear witness to my true gratitude.  I can only say in agreement, Glory be to God.  Glory to God for being a faithful, loving God who has men like Joe who listen and follow through with His plan.  Glory to God.

A memory book

Lifeshare sent us an application to complete, if we wanted, that would place a 150 word text along with a photo in a book of all donors from 2011.  Below is our submission.  It also may be in the Sunday Oklahoman...

A Mighty Warrior of God

Gideon Grayson Hamm December 8, 2010-March 10, 2011

Long before you made your appearance but while you were in my womb, God told daddy to name you Gideon.  Translated, it means “Mighty Warrior of God.”  We knew then that you would do great things in the name of Christ.  We prepared to raise you to be like Jesus: strong, mighty, compassionate and giving.  We never knew that in three simple, short months you would fulfill all of these and more.  Through your young life, you not only got to give a heart to another three month old baby but you helped in bringing many to Christ so that their souls may be saved through Christ and His promise.  You truly changed us and many more that we have never met but who simply heard the story of Gideon. We love you.  You are mommy and daddy’s mighty warrior and we rejoice that you have comfort in God’s arms.