So, I worked last night. I was the only "seasoned nurse" with a bunch of new nurses, so by default, I was the charge nurse and go-to girl. If you had a question, I would most certainly have an answer...at least that's what being the charge nurse is supposed to mean. In truth, I was sick, running a fever, pounding headache, and I didn't want to answer anyone's questions because it required me to think, which made my head hurt even more. I would have called in, but the staffing being the way it was...I didn't. We have one girl who's called in before so she could get ready to go to a party. I am not so pathetic, and I really didn't want to screw over my coworkers in such a manner. Sick as I was, I went in to work.
For the better part of the night, I was nauseated. We got a patient who tipped the scales of 600lbs plus. I walked in her room, and the smell was so horrible, I thought I would hurl right then and there. Who knew what lay in the folds of the abdomen and cankles of this patient, but I swear I thought I saw a green fog hovering over her bed.
The night passed on, and in the morning...I had to go to then annual Competency Fair. For those who don't know what Comp Fair us, you are lucky. It is a day where you go and take little quizzes, do return demonstrations on skills such as NG tube placement, blood gases, and other menial blather nurses do. We also have to sit through little presentations...all the while keeping track of all we have done with a little check-off sheet. When everything is checked-off, we get to leave. I'd rather set myself on fire than ever go to Comp Fair.
For us unfortunate night folks who worked the night before, we were given a sticker that said, "I worked last night, I get to go to the front of the line." Ideally, we were to wear these stickers to facilitate a faster procession through the gauntlet of catheters and needles. In reality, no one cared. I had to wait in line behind all the people, the freshly dressed and well rested people. Bitches.
Towards the end, I was starting to get annoyed. I stood in front of this HUGE posterboard display and some med-surg nurse (I hate med-surg) blathered on about...oh hell, I don't remember what she blathered on about...but all she did was read from the posterboard. Like I can't read it for myself. At the end, she wanted to know if anyone had a question...so naturally, someone had a dumb question. I wanted to go smack them both.
Three hours it took me to go through this. I skipped the flu shot and drove home. I walked into my apartment building and found the door wide open. Shit. Inside, I found two little Mexicans working on my toilet. I then remembered that my apartment complex sent out letters saying they were replacing all the toilets. Yay. Too tired to care, I went into my room, shut and locked the door, and proceeded to pass out.
I woke up this evening to a quiet apartment. I jumped out of bed to admire my new, gleaming white toilet.
I miss my old toilet already.
My new toilet is tall. My feet don't even touch the floor when I sit on it. If I can't touch, Mom's legs are going to fall asleep everytime she has to go. My blue fuzzy lid cover won't fit on the new toilet either.
This sucks. I'm buying my own place, then I can have the toilet I want. They don't call is a throne for nothing.