Dedicated to a Fallen Officer

Well the year has been off to a bit of a rough start. Not anything really horrible but just a lot of things all at once. The first thing isn't really a bad thing. Last week everyone came down with a respiratory virus and because of all the meds I had to take to function, Mira is now weaned. So it's not a horrible thing like I said, because she was losing interest for the last month anyway and she doesn't seem to miss it at all, plus because I dried up I didn't have any engorgement pain (which I wouldn't wish on my worst enemy). So really it was the best way it could have happened. I had been starting to worry about how I was going to wean her since we're coming up on a year (ack!) but this took care of it for me. There is a part of me that's the tiniest bit sad, because this is another reminder that she's getting close to no longer being a baby anymore. But there's a lot of me that's happy. I've talked to women who gush about how much they love nursing and they may as well have been saying that they love to gouge their eyes out with a rusty nail - that's how much sense it makes to me. I did like the cuddle time, but other than that I hated every second of nursing. I only stuck with it for so long because I know it's what is best. Looking back I'm surprised I stuck with it for almost 11 months - I had lots of problems and I didn't like it and when she was little it would take Mira an hour to feed, and when she needed to eat every 2 hours, that was all I did, plus I had no support from Mark at all through the whole thing. I won't air my dirty laundry here (as tempting as it would be to get some sympathy), but at least it's not an issue we need to worry about anymore. So that's done, and now I can wear dresses and turtlenecks and whatever I want to wear again (now that the last of the padding has fallen off I'm less than my prepregnancy weight) and I can ingest whatever I want without worrying about how it will affect another little person - basically, for the first time in almost 2 years, I have my body back. And that is certainly something to celebrate! :)

My free time (what little I have) has been spent studying for my Advanced Metabolic Module test next week. My unit has some advanced educational opportunities for the nurses so we can train in different pt populations. We can have specialized training in Advanced Respiratory, Neurotrauma, Cardiac, and Metabolic pts, plus there's ECMO (extracorporeal membranous oxygenation, which is basically heart-lung bypass, which I will never touch). It involves class time, research, presentations, plus of course hands-on training with that pt population. Besides ECMO, the metabolic pts are the sickest and busiest and have a million things wrong with them - which means there's a million things I need to know for my oral testing next week. I'm sure I'll test out and wonder what I was so worried about, but right now it's stressful to try to learn everything and try to remember what an elevated GGT indicates and what electrolyte imbalances occur with a metabolic acidosis. Since Mira is mobile, the only times I have to study are after she goes to bed (which is when I'm ready for bed), or at work (which doesn't guarantee I'll have time to study). So this is a cause of more stress - I think I'll have to find a babysitter for her for a couple days in the next week so I can leave the house and cram.

The sad stuff involves funerals - not anyone very close to us but you'll see why these are sad. This weekend I went to the funeral of a child I took care of a LOT last summer. I calculated that I spent well over 200 hours taking care of him and he was hands down the sickest pt I've ever had. From a completely detached point of view, this poor boy needed to die. He was so sick for so long - I can't go into details because of HIPAA but he really is in a better place now. But it's beyond devastating for parents to lose their child, especially after going through so much. The parents both hugged me and told me "Thank you for all your help." That was so validating for me - the end result was the same, but at least I helped get him better so he could be at home with his family when he died. Maybe I did make a difference.

This next funeral made national news so everyone is probably already aware of it but I'll review the basics anyway. On January 4th, 12 officers from various Utah agencies went to serve a drug-related search warrant and the suspect shot 6 of them, killing one, Officer Jared Francom of the Ogden Police Department. Ogden is about 20 minutes north of us. The suspect, in a perfect just world, would have had his brains blown out at the scene. The department would have had a lawsuit from the family and they would settle out of court because it's easier and cheaper than going to court, but at least a jackass who had the audacity to purposefully shoot 6 police officers, who were doing their job to protect and serve, would be gone and taken care of. At least the prosecutor will be going for the death penalty, which he should. Obviously this is a subject that is very emotionally charged for me, as you might imagine. We don't personally know any of the officers involved but law enforcement is a very tight-knot brotherhood and you don't have to have personally known an officer killed in the line of duty to lose a brother. Mark goes on calls like this all the time. It could have been any officer. Every day an officer goes to work, they don't know if they'll come home safe. Most of the time they do. But there's always the chance that they won't, and they know that. Maybe that's one reason these police funerals are so hard - but they are absolutely incredible at the same time. It's worth seeing, if it didn't mean an officer had to die to see the amazing show of support from the law enforcement community. Apparently there were officers from Chicago and Philadelphia at this funeral. When an officer from Mark's dept was killed on duty a few years ago there were officers from as far away as Florida. Law enforcement is the perfect definition of a brotherhood. We weren't able to go to the funeral, even though we wanted to - Mark had to work his regular shift and that was when I was really feeling under the weather and I could barely get off the couch. But we watched the procession on TV and there were some amazing and beautiful pictures and videos posted. Here are some pictures.

Notice the firefighters saluting on the ladders

Just to explain this next video so it makes sense to everyone: at a police funeral they do something called a final 10-42. You'll hear a long beep, which alerts everyone on the radio to stand by for emergency radio traffic. Weber Dispatch calls on the radio for Officer Francom, whose number is Whiskey 12. Whenever an officer signs off duty at the end of his/her shift, they tell dispatch they are "10-42." Dispatch calls for the fallen officer 3 times, and when they don't get a response, they announce that officer is 10-42 and the end of watch. I can hold it together during a police funeral until the final 10-42 and then I lose it and bawl uncontrollably because it's so sad. Click on the link to see the video.

Officer Francom's Final 10-42

Here's another really touching video. Just to make it even sadder, someone put Josh Groban as the background music.

Officer Francom's Funeral

I will put up another post with more updates on Mira in a few days. I'll have more pictures and videos organized by then and I don't feel like adding them on here. I don't know why this has been so emotional for me, except that it's a harsh reminder to me, again, that who's to say something like this won't happen to Mark someday? Don't worry, I'm fine, I just need some more time to reflect and I'll be ready to have some cheerful posts again soon. And believe me when I say there will be some AWESOME cute pics! But just not here.

I'll end this with a poem - I think it sums everything up well. I'm sure most people who read this blog have some respect for police anyway, but maybe you can take an extra moment to truly appreciate what law enforcement does for the community.

"The Final Inspection"

The policeman stood and faced his God,
Which must always come to pass.
He hoped his shoes were shining.
Just as brightly as his brass.

"Step forward now, policeman.
How shall I deal with you?
Have you always turned the other cheek?
To My church have you been true?"

The policeman squared his shoulders and said,
"No, Lord, I guess I ain't,
Because those of us who carry badges
can't always be a saint.

I've had to work most Sundays,
and at times my talk was rough,
and sometimes I've been violent,
Because the streets are awfully tough.

But I never took a penny,
That wasn't mine to keep....
Though I worked a lot of overtime
When the bills got just too steep.

And I never passed a cry for help,
Though at times I shook with fear.
And sometimes, God forgive me,
I've wept unmanly tears.

I know I don't deserve a place
Among the people here.
They never wanted me around
Except to calm their fear.

If you've a place for me here,
Lord, It needn't be so grand.
I never expected or had too much,
But if you don't.....I'll understand.

There was silence all around the throne
Where the saints had often trod.
As the policeman waited quietly,
For the judgment of his God.

"Step forward now, policeman,
You've borne your burdens well.
Come walk a beat on Heaven's streets,
You've done your time in hell."

Author Unknown