Sunday, August 1, 2010
Pooped.
Today I was free from my Nursing Assistant duties and got to spend the whole day with my preceptor nurse, Sara. For some reason I am exhausted today... I am not sure why either. I got to bed around 10:30, and woke up at 5:30, and my tasks today were easy. However, I was cold, tired, and wanting to be home alllll day. When I arrived to the house I jumped in the freshly cleaned shower (Sarah had bleached it, bless her), and stayed there for about 20 minutes just letting the water wash over me. I felt bad "wasting time" or water, but I needed it. I made breakfast for dinner and plan on going to bed VERY early. Of course I wanted to do some record keeping before...
Today I helped set up a tube feeding, emptied a Jackson Pratt drain, removed a foley catheter, hung IV's, assisted in teaching a spanish-speaking patient how to check his own blood sugar, and participated in a bedside chest tube removal and insertion. The chest tube insertion was the highlight of the day. A patient involved in a motorcycle accident a few weeks ago was admitted to the hospital because of fluid build up in his lungs. His wife, and himself were taking a road trip when a deer hit them. The two ate pavement, and the husband broke his ribs. He stayed in a po-dunk hospital for a few days and then was sent home. A few weeks later he was outside, felt a sharp pain, and was unable to breath. He was put to sleep while a chest tube was placed to help drain the fluid off of his lung. The drain had not been draining much, and the patient had a high heart rate with difficulty breathing. The main doctor, Dr. 1, said everything was fine, but my nurse, myself, and the patient's wife (a neonatal nurse practitioner) thought the patient appeared to be getting worse. He was pale, sweaty, and seemed to be in an increasing amount of pain. The nurse called Dr. 1 to voice her concerns, but he was un-phased. My nurse decided to call another doctor, Dr. 2, to come look at the patient. Dr. 2 did not like what he saw and called Dr. 1 and basically asked him why the heck he wasn't worried. Dr. 1 finally ordered a chest x-ray which showed the fluid had not decreased since admission. Dr. 1 decided he was going to put in a new chest drain at the bedside. All of the nurses scurried around to get everything for him, for they did not want to inconvenience the doctor any more [for doing his job.] Dr. 1 wouldn't give the patient any more pain medicine than he was already prescribed because he thought the patient had enough. Therefore, the patient moaned, yelled, and whimpered while Dr. 1 cut his chest and shoved a new hard tube into his diaphram. At one point the patient flinched so hard that his knee hit Dr. 1's arm, pushing the tube in even further. Nice, huh? Apparently surgeons are rather insensitive to pain because their patients are usually sedated in the operating room. Kind of ridiculous. The poor patient said, "the other patients are going to get scared. I feel bad." after the procedure was done.
Dr. 2 was a really nice man, and I overheard him telling someone how he won't let his children be doctors because of how much it takes over your life, and how he had missed seeing his children grow up. He said that each year he says, I will do this or that, but that he never can get away. He asked, "when will I have time for my wife, when I am pushing her in a wheel chair?" He said that in med school they tell you it will get better, but it never does. He did, however, say that he has made some changes and now only works 60 hours a week. That is crazy. I don't think I could ever do that. This is not the first medical professional that I have heard say they won't let their children go into medicine or healthcare. Interesting.
Another patient left Sara and I a sweet note when she left thanking us for our care. She said we were her favorite :) As she left she gave me a hug and said that she "felt like she knew me." This is the second note that has been received with my name mentioned. It does a heart some good.
Today I helped set up a tube feeding, emptied a Jackson Pratt drain, removed a foley catheter, hung IV's, assisted in teaching a spanish-speaking patient how to check his own blood sugar, and participated in a bedside chest tube removal and insertion. The chest tube insertion was the highlight of the day. A patient involved in a motorcycle accident a few weeks ago was admitted to the hospital because of fluid build up in his lungs. His wife, and himself were taking a road trip when a deer hit them. The two ate pavement, and the husband broke his ribs. He stayed in a po-dunk hospital for a few days and then was sent home. A few weeks later he was outside, felt a sharp pain, and was unable to breath. He was put to sleep while a chest tube was placed to help drain the fluid off of his lung. The drain had not been draining much, and the patient had a high heart rate with difficulty breathing. The main doctor, Dr. 1, said everything was fine, but my nurse, myself, and the patient's wife (a neonatal nurse practitioner) thought the patient appeared to be getting worse. He was pale, sweaty, and seemed to be in an increasing amount of pain. The nurse called Dr. 1 to voice her concerns, but he was un-phased. My nurse decided to call another doctor, Dr. 2, to come look at the patient. Dr. 2 did not like what he saw and called Dr. 1 and basically asked him why the heck he wasn't worried. Dr. 1 finally ordered a chest x-ray which showed the fluid had not decreased since admission. Dr. 1 decided he was going to put in a new chest drain at the bedside. All of the nurses scurried around to get everything for him, for they did not want to inconvenience the doctor any more [for doing his job.] Dr. 1 wouldn't give the patient any more pain medicine than he was already prescribed because he thought the patient had enough. Therefore, the patient moaned, yelled, and whimpered while Dr. 1 cut his chest and shoved a new hard tube into his diaphram. At one point the patient flinched so hard that his knee hit Dr. 1's arm, pushing the tube in even further. Nice, huh? Apparently surgeons are rather insensitive to pain because their patients are usually sedated in the operating room. Kind of ridiculous. The poor patient said, "the other patients are going to get scared. I feel bad." after the procedure was done.
Dr. 2 was a really nice man, and I overheard him telling someone how he won't let his children be doctors because of how much it takes over your life, and how he had missed seeing his children grow up. He said that each year he says, I will do this or that, but that he never can get away. He asked, "when will I have time for my wife, when I am pushing her in a wheel chair?" He said that in med school they tell you it will get better, but it never does. He did, however, say that he has made some changes and now only works 60 hours a week. That is crazy. I don't think I could ever do that. This is not the first medical professional that I have heard say they won't let their children go into medicine or healthcare. Interesting.
Another patient left Sara and I a sweet note when she left thanking us for our care. She said we were her favorite :) As she left she gave me a hug and said that she "felt like she knew me." This is the second note that has been received with my name mentioned. It does a heart some good.
Saturday, July 31, 2010
Piano Playing
I almost find it aggravating how many touching moments I have had this summer because then I want to write them down so that I do not forget.
My patients speak such wise words... I find it both a blessing and tragedy that people often learn the most important truths about life when they are faced with death. For example, when a patient with only months left tells you: "I expect to hear you play a song on the piano this time next year", you know it is time to start dabbling on those keys.
Today I had a patient who began showing signs of ALS (https://health.google.com/health/ref/Amyotrophic+lateral+sclerosis) in April, and lays in her bed almost completely paralyzed today. I didn't talk to this woman very much, but the few conversations we had left my heart aching. She had no appetite, no mobility, a tube feeding into her stomach, immense pain, and a horrible prognosis. And she was only in her 50's. She has 5 children and 7 grandchildren, and the chances of her seeing another birth or wedding are slim. How do you cope with something like this? How do go from a full functioning life to having a doctor tell you that within months you will soon be unable to speak? Before I knew much about this woman, I felt compelled to pray for her. I didn't want to seem like a weirdo, so I did it silently as I set up her bedside table. I asked about her life a little bit, and she told me how her husband and herself used to travel as gospel singers. She said she was trained in piano and was about to start learning violin, but that the onset of ALS had kept her from picking it up. She told me, "see, you shouldn't wait to start doing the things you want to do, you never know when it could be too late." I told her that I had always wanted to learn to play the piano and she smiled saying, "well I bet I will be back here in a year, so when I do, I am going to expect that you have started to play." I nodded, half wondering if she really would be back, half wondering if I would ever actually try to fumble my way through a tune. I told her that my grandfather used to play piano, but that he had recently stopped. The woman told me to tell him to keep playing, and reminded me that one could never be too old to learn. I decided to go out on a whim and asked her if I could pray. What could it hurt? She graciously told me yes and opened up her hand for me to grab. After my short words, she thanked me, and quoted Philippians 4:13, "I can do everything through Him who gives me strength", emphasizing that He said EVERYTHING. She told me to continue to be strong and courageous in my offering of prayers, and to keep letting God use me like that. She shared that her husband was a docile man, but that he was a prayer warrior, always being asked to pray for people. (I met him later that evening and he was indeed a sweet man, rubbing his wife's sore feet. He had love written in his eyes. He was black and she was white.)
I don't want to wait until death to begin living. Why spend our entire lives working for a goal that may never be reached? Why not live our lives responding as the blessed children we are, open to receive from our Father.
My patients speak such wise words... I find it both a blessing and tragedy that people often learn the most important truths about life when they are faced with death. For example, when a patient with only months left tells you: "I expect to hear you play a song on the piano this time next year", you know it is time to start dabbling on those keys.
Today I had a patient who began showing signs of ALS (https://health.google.com/health/ref/Amyotrophic+lateral+sclerosis) in April, and lays in her bed almost completely paralyzed today. I didn't talk to this woman very much, but the few conversations we had left my heart aching. She had no appetite, no mobility, a tube feeding into her stomach, immense pain, and a horrible prognosis. And she was only in her 50's. She has 5 children and 7 grandchildren, and the chances of her seeing another birth or wedding are slim. How do you cope with something like this? How do go from a full functioning life to having a doctor tell you that within months you will soon be unable to speak? Before I knew much about this woman, I felt compelled to pray for her. I didn't want to seem like a weirdo, so I did it silently as I set up her bedside table. I asked about her life a little bit, and she told me how her husband and herself used to travel as gospel singers. She said she was trained in piano and was about to start learning violin, but that the onset of ALS had kept her from picking it up. She told me, "see, you shouldn't wait to start doing the things you want to do, you never know when it could be too late." I told her that I had always wanted to learn to play the piano and she smiled saying, "well I bet I will be back here in a year, so when I do, I am going to expect that you have started to play." I nodded, half wondering if she really would be back, half wondering if I would ever actually try to fumble my way through a tune. I told her that my grandfather used to play piano, but that he had recently stopped. The woman told me to tell him to keep playing, and reminded me that one could never be too old to learn. I decided to go out on a whim and asked her if I could pray. What could it hurt? She graciously told me yes and opened up her hand for me to grab. After my short words, she thanked me, and quoted Philippians 4:13, "I can do everything through Him who gives me strength", emphasizing that He said EVERYTHING. She told me to continue to be strong and courageous in my offering of prayers, and to keep letting God use me like that. She shared that her husband was a docile man, but that he was a prayer warrior, always being asked to pray for people. (I met him later that evening and he was indeed a sweet man, rubbing his wife's sore feet. He had love written in his eyes. He was black and she was white.)
I don't want to wait until death to begin living. Why spend our entire lives working for a goal that may never be reached? Why not live our lives responding as the blessed children we are, open to receive from our Father.
Friday, July 30, 2010
Nurse Sarah
Here is a picture I took of myself yesterday after work. I was going to get one of my roommates to take it but she was asleep. Thank goodness for photo timers. For fun, I have also included a picture my Aunt recently sent of me as a wee tot.
Thursday, July 29, 2010
Banana Bag
I feel like I have been hooked up to a BANANA BAG this week. What is a banana bag you ask? It is a bag of IV fluids that contains vitamins and minerals to replenish a deficient body. I know it is only thursday, but I have had such a great day today (and the past few days) that I cannot help but relish.
Monday: I woke up early to drive back to Charlotte for an interview at the YMCA. It went well, and the employer will look for a position for me. She even passed my information on to a bunch of her colleagues to see if they had a spot that was more fitting to my schedule. She then allowed me to take a free spinning class. So much fun! I had two delicious meals, one being Flying Biscuit with a friend, another was homemade indian food from one of my bff's new boy friends. He has made a good impression on me... Or my stomach at least. I hung out with my wonderful roommates Kate and Bekah in our BEAUTIFUL NoDa home. I still cannot believe I live in such a place. It blows my mind. I had the best night of sleep I have had in weeks.
Tuesday: Relaxing morning with fresh French pressed coffee from the comforts of my own home and yogurt with blueberries. Yum. Then a run downtown where a homeless man gave me a medal. I chose to believe that it was a kind act that ministered to my character. A man with nothing saw me and was compelled to scrounge the bottoms of his napsack for a keepsake. That is beautiful! The only hang up of the day was that my key to our building didn't work, which just meant I had to go back to visit Bekah at work to get hers. Then I decorated my room with lattice, a window, and the old desk; I am going for a cottage/vintage feel. Bekah came home early from work and we chatted while multi-tasking. We ate leftover indian cuisine for dinner, waited on Kate, and then faced the storm to go to Church. The message spoke to all of us, and we laughed as things said in the sermon paralleled conversations we previously had with one another. I was convicted about areas of pride in my life and how I view "my calling". It was a good reminder that what I do in the future has little relevance to how I live my life now. Life is not about what I can do, but how I respond. Good stuff!
Wednesday: Woke up early to go for a run with my friend Michelle and then came home to make a journal to give to a Raleigh roommate for her trip to Africa. I had lunch with another friend in which I killed some pride. It was a bit scary, but I figured the cost was worth it. Pride has no place here. And guess what? It wasn't bad at all, it was freedom. I drove back to Raleigh and ran some errands. Sarah and her boy friend had made a delicious blueberry cake that I got to taste, and then I went to bed.
Thursday: The BEST day of all. The banana bag of all banana bags. I started my day with some meditation on the fact that I am not defined by what occupation I have, or what role I play, but that it is how I respond. I was given the opportunity to work in the ICU and absolutely loved it! Perhaps it was my outlook, or maybe it really was a good fit. Who knows. When I arrived I went into the break room and listened to discussion. I was told to follow a nurse named Veronica (she is from Nigeria, very cool!), but when the charge nurse announced this at the meeting, Veronica's bulging eyes indicated that no one had informed her about this pairing. I was a bit concerned that it would not be fun or go well, but I was determined to respond out of joy. I asked V about ICU and if her children were going to be nurses and she told me she told them all never to be. I asked why and she said it was because her job was stressful, and that she wasn't paid nearly enough. She said I should continue my education and not stop at being a nurse... that I should be an CRNA (Nurse Anesthetist), or a Nurse Practitioner, or a doctor, but that I should never be a bedside nurse. She told me she didn't like teaching either. All of that was a little discouraging, but I pressed on. There wasn't too much for me to do because ICU nurses only take care of 1-3 patients at a time, enabling the nurse to provide for most of the needs. I decided I was not going to sit around so I started asking everyone on the unit. Slowly, they all started to give me tasks. At 12 I went with V to a meeting and she became more and more open to me. She pulled a seat next to her and included me in conversation. She was nice from the start, but I began to feel more like a welcomed presence instead of a her seeing me as a pesky student. At 1 I had my evaluation with Yolanda, the 5th floor nurse manager, and was very encouraged by that as well. Just like everyone else I meet, she too gave me career advice, telling me to work at the bedside for a few years before trying to specialize or go back to school, and how to make myself marketable. I listened with a grain of salt, because I know I can't take everyone's advice. My favorite part was when she commended my current status. She said that both of the nurses i work with said I was eager to learn and doing very well. She told me that the patients all loved me and one had even talked to her about me and told her things she already knew (probably about how I was a student, etc). So cute! After the meeting I went back to the ICU with even more fuel. I took an initiative and started performing tasks before I was asked. V warmed up to me even more, and began teaching with greater depth. She told me about the patients conditions and encouraged me to think critically. I really liked the ICU and fit in well there. It was clean, organized, quite, and warm :) As a nurse, you have to constantly be thinking and making decisions. Everything isn't black and white. Towards the end of my shift, V was impressed with my observations and gave me a high five. She told me that usually they don't need Nursing Assistants but that I was a huge asset and she wanted to talk to her nurse manager about getting me on board. She told me I was going to be a great nurse. I always thought I would be bored with how much you sit and watch your people in the ICU, but I found it refreshing. My body wasn't dead tired when I got home from work! Instead, my mind felt like it had been stimulated. I also wasn't exhausted from dealing with people. I got to talk to my patients a little bit, but it wasn't a constant bombardment of emotional support, anger-determent, or mere entertainment. I also go to practice my spanish today with one of the new admissions. I was very surprised by how much I remembered from so long ago. It was so much fun!
Monday: I woke up early to drive back to Charlotte for an interview at the YMCA. It went well, and the employer will look for a position for me. She even passed my information on to a bunch of her colleagues to see if they had a spot that was more fitting to my schedule. She then allowed me to take a free spinning class. So much fun! I had two delicious meals, one being Flying Biscuit with a friend, another was homemade indian food from one of my bff's new boy friends. He has made a good impression on me... Or my stomach at least. I hung out with my wonderful roommates Kate and Bekah in our BEAUTIFUL NoDa home. I still cannot believe I live in such a place. It blows my mind. I had the best night of sleep I have had in weeks.
Tuesday: Relaxing morning with fresh French pressed coffee from the comforts of my own home and yogurt with blueberries. Yum. Then a run downtown where a homeless man gave me a medal. I chose to believe that it was a kind act that ministered to my character. A man with nothing saw me and was compelled to scrounge the bottoms of his napsack for a keepsake. That is beautiful! The only hang up of the day was that my key to our building didn't work, which just meant I had to go back to visit Bekah at work to get hers. Then I decorated my room with lattice, a window, and the old desk; I am going for a cottage/vintage feel. Bekah came home early from work and we chatted while multi-tasking. We ate leftover indian cuisine for dinner, waited on Kate, and then faced the storm to go to Church. The message spoke to all of us, and we laughed as things said in the sermon paralleled conversations we previously had with one another. I was convicted about areas of pride in my life and how I view "my calling". It was a good reminder that what I do in the future has little relevance to how I live my life now. Life is not about what I can do, but how I respond. Good stuff!
Wednesday: Woke up early to go for a run with my friend Michelle and then came home to make a journal to give to a Raleigh roommate for her trip to Africa. I had lunch with another friend in which I killed some pride. It was a bit scary, but I figured the cost was worth it. Pride has no place here. And guess what? It wasn't bad at all, it was freedom. I drove back to Raleigh and ran some errands. Sarah and her boy friend had made a delicious blueberry cake that I got to taste, and then I went to bed.
Thursday: The BEST day of all. The banana bag of all banana bags. I started my day with some meditation on the fact that I am not defined by what occupation I have, or what role I play, but that it is how I respond. I was given the opportunity to work in the ICU and absolutely loved it! Perhaps it was my outlook, or maybe it really was a good fit. Who knows. When I arrived I went into the break room and listened to discussion. I was told to follow a nurse named Veronica (she is from Nigeria, very cool!), but when the charge nurse announced this at the meeting, Veronica's bulging eyes indicated that no one had informed her about this pairing. I was a bit concerned that it would not be fun or go well, but I was determined to respond out of joy. I asked V about ICU and if her children were going to be nurses and she told me she told them all never to be. I asked why and she said it was because her job was stressful, and that she wasn't paid nearly enough. She said I should continue my education and not stop at being a nurse... that I should be an CRNA (Nurse Anesthetist), or a Nurse Practitioner, or a doctor, but that I should never be a bedside nurse. She told me she didn't like teaching either. All of that was a little discouraging, but I pressed on. There wasn't too much for me to do because ICU nurses only take care of 1-3 patients at a time, enabling the nurse to provide for most of the needs. I decided I was not going to sit around so I started asking everyone on the unit. Slowly, they all started to give me tasks. At 12 I went with V to a meeting and she became more and more open to me. She pulled a seat next to her and included me in conversation. She was nice from the start, but I began to feel more like a welcomed presence instead of a her seeing me as a pesky student. At 1 I had my evaluation with Yolanda, the 5th floor nurse manager, and was very encouraged by that as well. Just like everyone else I meet, she too gave me career advice, telling me to work at the bedside for a few years before trying to specialize or go back to school, and how to make myself marketable. I listened with a grain of salt, because I know I can't take everyone's advice. My favorite part was when she commended my current status. She said that both of the nurses i work with said I was eager to learn and doing very well. She told me that the patients all loved me and one had even talked to her about me and told her things she already knew (probably about how I was a student, etc). So cute! After the meeting I went back to the ICU with even more fuel. I took an initiative and started performing tasks before I was asked. V warmed up to me even more, and began teaching with greater depth. She told me about the patients conditions and encouraged me to think critically. I really liked the ICU and fit in well there. It was clean, organized, quite, and warm :) As a nurse, you have to constantly be thinking and making decisions. Everything isn't black and white. Towards the end of my shift, V was impressed with my observations and gave me a high five. She told me that usually they don't need Nursing Assistants but that I was a huge asset and she wanted to talk to her nurse manager about getting me on board. She told me I was going to be a great nurse. I always thought I would be bored with how much you sit and watch your people in the ICU, but I found it refreshing. My body wasn't dead tired when I got home from work! Instead, my mind felt like it had been stimulated. I also wasn't exhausted from dealing with people. I got to talk to my patients a little bit, but it wasn't a constant bombardment of emotional support, anger-determent, or mere entertainment. I also go to practice my spanish today with one of the new admissions. I was very surprised by how much I remembered from so long ago. It was so much fun!
Tuesday, July 27, 2010
Mike
Note: If you are a person who gets nervous when I talk about living in a city and the "what-if's", please do not read this blog.
I drove to Charlotte yesterday for an interview and am staying for a few days to hang out with my roomies, decorate, etc. This morning I decided I wanted to go on a long run down town, so I looked on MapMyRun.com for routes that other people had taken. I found a 10 mile route, but decided to alter it to make it shorter. The ran began at Freedom Park, so I drove to the spot, parked, put on my watch and Runner ID, and began my ran. As I approached a gas station on East Blvd about 5 minutes in (a nice, safe area of Downtown Charlotte), an old black man on a bicycle stopped near my path. He was trying to get my attention so I stopped. He had a smokey grey beard, baseball cap, and dirty bookbag. He appeared clean. He started saying something about how he was sorry to stop my running, but that he had something he wanted to give me. I was a little cautious, but there were plenty of people nearby, and a cop had actually just pulled up about 10 feet away to fill up his gas tank. The man introduced himself as "Mike", shook my hand, and asked me my name. I told him "Sarah" and he said, "I knew that. I'm psychic. Last girl I met I thought her name was Sarah too, but actually it was her daughters name." He chuckled and told me he had a medal for me. As he began unzipping his bookbag, he pulled out an old grocery bag. I told him I was nervous and he said, "I know I look like a terrorist, but I'm not. I just have something I want to give you. My daughter used to hand these out to people." Sure enough, he pulled out an old Kiawah Island Half Marathon blue medal. He told me how he was an x-military man and that he used to run but now lifted weights (he grabbed and flexed his bicep as he said this. I smiled at him. He told me to go get back to my run and that he hadn't wanted to interrupt me. I told him it was not a bother, and started off again. I dropped the medal off at Dilworth Coffee (Bekah was working). I told her I would explain the story later and continued on my way. I ran the next 7.5 miles downtown filled with thoughts of people, life, love, and God.
I must say, I have the best playlist ever.
I drove to Charlotte yesterday for an interview and am staying for a few days to hang out with my roomies, decorate, etc. This morning I decided I wanted to go on a long run down town, so I looked on MapMyRun.com for routes that other people had taken. I found a 10 mile route, but decided to alter it to make it shorter. The ran began at Freedom Park, so I drove to the spot, parked, put on my watch and Runner ID, and began my ran. As I approached a gas station on East Blvd about 5 minutes in (a nice, safe area of Downtown Charlotte), an old black man on a bicycle stopped near my path. He was trying to get my attention so I stopped. He had a smokey grey beard, baseball cap, and dirty bookbag. He appeared clean. He started saying something about how he was sorry to stop my running, but that he had something he wanted to give me. I was a little cautious, but there were plenty of people nearby, and a cop had actually just pulled up about 10 feet away to fill up his gas tank. The man introduced himself as "Mike", shook my hand, and asked me my name. I told him "Sarah" and he said, "I knew that. I'm psychic. Last girl I met I thought her name was Sarah too, but actually it was her daughters name." He chuckled and told me he had a medal for me. As he began unzipping his bookbag, he pulled out an old grocery bag. I told him I was nervous and he said, "I know I look like a terrorist, but I'm not. I just have something I want to give you. My daughter used to hand these out to people." Sure enough, he pulled out an old Kiawah Island Half Marathon blue medal. He told me how he was an x-military man and that he used to run but now lifted weights (he grabbed and flexed his bicep as he said this. I smiled at him. He told me to go get back to my run and that he hadn't wanted to interrupt me. I told him it was not a bother, and started off again. I dropped the medal off at Dilworth Coffee (Bekah was working). I told her I would explain the story later and continued on my way. I ran the next 7.5 miles downtown filled with thoughts of people, life, love, and God.
I must say, I have the best playlist ever.
Friday, July 23, 2010
Wow
This gave me chills and brought tears to my eyes. How beautiful is this? A homeless man came up and started singing with this musician. Wow.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=xDmibnRyhj4&feature=related
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=xDmibnRyhj4&feature=related
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