A Departure From Good Taste

So I worked last night. On a side note, everyone liked the red hair. After a couple washings, the bright orange faded to a nice, strawberry blonde. Yay. What did surprise me was how many doctors complimented me on the new 'do. I never even knew they noticed what I looked like in the first place.

Anyway, we ended up transferring a couple patients to different floors more centered to their particular condition. Because my floor is still relatively shiny and new, all the rooms are private, and are designed in such a manner than families can stay the night, in the patient room, if they so wish. Not so on other floors, which have semi-private rooms, thereby requiring all families must camp out in the waiting room if they want to sleep over (which again begs the question, why would anyone want to sleep over at a hospital ,especially if their loved one wasn't in crappy health?)

One patient we transferred, had a daughter...maybe in her 40's. While most family members who do opt to stay over will wear the most modest of night attire if they don't sleep in their street clothes, this woman was wearing a pink teddy. A satin pink teddy. I had heard of this teddy, and thought I missed the spectacle after the patient was transferred downstairs. So, I was sitting at the front desk charting, when a flash of pink and bad bleached hair charged by the desk. It was scantily-clad daughter, who was on a mission to fetch the rest of her parent's belongings. I wasn't entirely certain of just what I saw, so I peeked around the corner and saw her scouring the old room, looking for anything that wasn't nailed down. Sure enough, tacky pink teddy (probably from K-Mart) and ass cheeks hanging out of the bottom of the getup.

I shake my head in disbelief even as I now write this.

The daughter comes out of the room and comes face to face with me. She complains that her Dad is now in a semi-private room and she can't stay in the room with him. "Uhh..." was my reply. A funny thought occurred to me, and I pictured this woman setting up camp in the waiting room, teddy and all. The daughter charged off the floor, never to be seen by us again...but never forgotten.

Later, as we sat at the desk and joked about it, one just had to wonder just why someone would wear something like that around a sick parent. Someone speculated that was her attempt to possibly catch the attention of an up and coming doctor, someone who could better afford more tasteless nighties for public wear.

I must say I am almost getting to the point where I can say, "Now I have seen everything." I've seen a patient wearing an orange sequined thong under his gown. I've seen family members walk around patient rooms in their underwear, or sometimes nothing at all. I've seen a Dad making out with his daughter. And last, but certainly not least, I've been the unfortunate witness to a mother and daugher in the shower together...naked (I still have nightmares about that one).

Where in the hell do these people come from?!?!

They really need to tell people in nursing school that you will encounter these things in practice...maybe then it won't be as shocking...or nauseating.

Give me an open, gushing wound any day.

Random Blathering

My last of 5 days off, and as usual, the most exciting thing I got to do was laundry. Late last week, I lamented to Paul about not usually doing anything when I have big blocks of time off. He simply said in all his infinite wisdom, "Go somewhere."

Yes, I like to travel, but I don't like doing it by myself. So together, we hatched a plan to take a small road trip equally benefitting to both parties. Not traveling by myself, I could take some pics, and he could buy junk (because Metrosexual Paul is also a compulsive shopper). Before he left work that morning, he promised to call and we would plan further.

Big mistake.

In true form, Paul did not call, and I resorted to my backup plan of laundry (because everyone else was working). I was hacked, and am still fuming about it. I did manage to get a hold of him today to make my displeasure known, and as usual, I got a lame excuse (sick, sleeping, etc). I don't put up with this behavior from any of my other friends...why should I make allowances for him? Ass. He never calls when he says he will, he doesn't return calls, he flakes out of plans...and if that boy ever said yes to a plan and actually stuck with it, I would have a huge cranial bleed. Sheesh!

At any rate, I went and got my hair done yesterday. Instead of plain blonde me, there's now sassy red me. I have been known to go red from time to time, usually with much success. I went to Kant's house last night and her sister made a comment about it being Halloween hair. Now, I am somewhat self conscious about it. I'm not red head...I'm pumpkin head...and I will be going back to have the second phase of redness done...but still. This is not shaping up to be a red-letter week (maybe more of an orange-letter week). The scary part is, I still have to work 3 shifts this week.

A nap sounds good to me right now, I think I will go take one.

I can't believe it!

Nebraska not only lost to Missouri this weekend, they had their asses handed to them on a paper plate.

Huskers, you have disappointed me greatly.

At least the Chiefs won their game...

Things all alcoholic liver patients should know...

1. If you have an alcohol problem, you will kill your liver.
2. No one looks good in yellow, so jaundice doens't flatter anyone.
3. If you need a new liver and are an alcoholic, you will not get a new liver if you don't stop drinking.
4. If you don't stop drinking, but think you can fool us into thinking you have, we have ways of finding out the truth. Science doesn't lie.
5. Dying from liver failure is ugly, bloody and not peaceful.
6. If you have the misfortune of living through the experience, you will wish you were dead because we pump you with so much lactulose (to get rid of the excess ammonia in your blood), you're going to think you are melting out of your butthole.
7. High ammonia levels = crazy psychotic patient. We will tie you to the bed.
8. When you are crazy psychotic patient, it is not cute to ask the nurse for some Jack Daniels.
9. Tell your family it is not the nurse's fault you are in the crappy shape you are in.
10. We really don't feel too sorry for you because you did this to yourself.

Day off!

I'm done for 5 days. A crappy 3 day stretch capped off with a gruesome, ugly, and very bloody death...so naturally, it was my patient.

Today, I shall go shopping. New underwear always makes me happy. Maybe some new scrubs. I can't wait!

While the cat's away...

My bosshole is officially on vacation for two weeks. Two weeks!!!

WOO-HOO!!!!

About last night...

Last night sucked. I got my ass kicked and handed to me on a paper plate. My only consolation was the chips and salsa I brought. One really sick person who had a daughter who read a medical article in Women's Day and was an authority on medicine...cow, one somewhat sick person, and someone who was a total asshole. Dude...if you are going to be the poster boy of noncompliance, sign yourself out AMA and free up that bed for someone who actually wants to get better. And don't cuss out my techs for no reason. That's a sure fire way of getting an ass-chewing from the short, and sometimes intimidating, blonde nurse.

I may look cute, but don't piss me off.

I still don't like it...

I sought clarification from the Bosshole on the Stroke Tele Unit. It figures, he comes from a neuro floor and wants us to be neuro-based too. Initially, we were to only be stepdown for MICU...now he wants to throw NICU in the mix as well.

A bunch of my coworkers discussed this the other night with the nursing supervisor. You would be hard pressed to find someone on nights who actually thinks this is a great idea. So, alot of people are talking about transferring to other floors. Problem is, we don't want to leave our coworkers. That is why I stay. We are a close-knit tribe on nights, and we don't have the squabbling problems the day shift does. We get along with most everyone, we work well together, we value each other's input and see out their opinions when ours simply isn't enough.

Our nursing supervisor agreed. She told us that the night shift on our floor has established a cohesiveness not found on any other floor. We relayed our frustrations to her...about the Stroke tele thing, about our Bosshole, about some of the problems as of late. All news to her. I don't think there is much she could do, but it was nice to actually have someone listen to what we were saying.

I go back tonight for 3 nights. Get it all over with, I say. I made some salsa yesterday, and made too much of it. So, I am going to take some to work. It might make the night more tolerable. That and a Starbucks latte!

Sad night, part 2

Well, the 30 year old patient died this morning. It was the saddest thing. He had been looking rather bad all night, so we figured it was imminent. He rallied yesterday...out of bed, talking. They usually rally before they die. Sometimes this is a bad thing as it always gives the family hope.

This patient's sister came to keep vigil. We had a cot for her and she had it right next to the bed so she could hold his hand. A couple times I would go in to check on them, and there they would both be sleeping, and holding hands.

I was in another patient's room when one of the new grad nurses came in. "I think he is gone," she whispered. I went to the room and I could tell by looking at him that she was right. Death robs even the palest person of any discernable color. He lay there, his cherubic face peaceful as if sleeping. The sister was still sleeping, I did notice that she wasn't holding his hand. I felt my throat tighten.

I touched the patient, he was cool. I looked for any breathing. I felt for a pulse. I listened for a heartbeat. I found nothing. I looked at the new grad and shook my head. She leaned over and gently shook the sister.

"He's gone."

She gasped, bewildered. For days she has been told this was going to happen, supported her brother in his decision to let go...and still it did not prepare her for the reality that her little brother had just died within arm's reach. She held his cool, pale hand. "I...I wasn't ready." She smoothed his hair and she fought the tears. We left the room so she could be alone with him. Other staff members on our floor had heard of his passing, and they met me outside the room. Everyone had tears in their eyes...myself included. We all had taken care of this patient at some point or another during one of his many hospital visits. He was dealt a wicked hand of sickness that spanned his entire life. In the 30 years of his life, he nowhere near did half the things that I've gotten to do in mine. Death was a blessing for him, and I am grateful that it was peaceful.

And that is all I am going to say about that...

Fun Blog of Note

I discovered this blog in the recommended section. It's pee-your-pants-funny.

Sad night...

I'm at work. We have a patient who is my age that is dying. He is a "frequent flyer" on our floor as he is always sick, and always needing to be hospitalized. I guess he got tired of being sick and tired, so he said "no more". Now he is dying, and it is very sad for everyone because we have all taken care of him, and become attached in our own little way.

The on-call doctor, who has been a resident for a whopping 3 months, is being a dick. His attitude, "He wants to die. Let him die." He's callous, rude, and so full of himself because he's a doctor. I can't wait until he crosses me. I can't wait to rip him a new one. He doesn't understand why we are so sad...after all, it's only a patient. A stranger we don't know. Bastard.

Meanwhile, the doc who has been taking care of this patient for years and years, the one who a lot of people thought an asshole, and had no heart...cried because the patient wanted to give up. Pleaded with the family members to help convince the patient to reconsider. I think very highly of a doctor who will cry for his patients. Nurses do it routinely, but you don't see docs do it too often. I remember seeing a doctor cry with a family because their loved one was dying. It was this resident's first death. I'm sure she will always remember it, and I hope she doesn't ever lose that compassion that enables people to grieve with those who grieve.

What's that smell???

I took Sam out last night before I put him in his kennel. The back yard behind my building is rather dark, and all I can make out is Sam. So, he runs to the end of the retractable leash and starts barking at something. Then he starts tugging at the leash like he wants to chase something. Annoyed (which seemed to be the theme for yesterday), I took Sam back in the house.

I was cleaning up the latest casualty of Sam's toys when I smelled it. I sniffed just to be certain. I opened my sliding patio door and caught full wind of it.

"Skunk!!" I yelled to Mom who was on the computer. After a minute, she began to smell it and started gagging.

I guessed that whatever Sam was barking at, was indeed, a skunk. And Sam scared the stink out of it. Fortunately, the skunk was too far away to actually spray Sam. Had that happened, I would have had to sent Mom to the store to buy out their inventory of tomato juice just to give Sam a bath.

This morning, I stuck my head outside to see if the smell had gone away, and came nose to nose with a pair of Jehovah's Witnesses. I listened to their introduction, and politely told them I wasn't interested. Ordinarily, I would offer them a Book of Mormon in exchange for their Watchtower, but I was too tired, and all I could think about was going back to bed.

This is shaping up to be a great day...

Benadryl = Weird dreams

I took some Benadryl last night in an effort to get some sleep. I do, after all, have to return to work tonight. I don't particularly care for Benadryl...it makes me groggy and gives me weird, and sometimes frightening, dreams.

So, I dreamed I was in this cross-county race on a yellow, inflated banana. I ended up dropping my cell phone when my racing party overturned, so after the race, I had to go back and find it. I came across Tom Cruise who was an asshole (ofcourse)...and he was 2 feet shorter than me. Down the road, I came across Nicole Kidman, who was decidedly a lesbian. And her girlfriend was Queen Latifah. I won't even tell you what I saw in their room.

I found my cell phone on a table in the projects, along with someone's pink cell phone, and a deflated ball.

We did not win the race.

A team in a turbo-charged tomato did.

A lesson to any parent...

Let's try this again...

This is why you should not let children ride in the front passenger seat. Those airbag warnings are there for a reason. My eyes were not open because I was physically unable to at the time. It wouldn't have mattered anyway...I was blind at the time.

My face hurts just remembering...but look how skinny I was then!!

On Crosses and Friends

I'm sitting here at home in my pj's. Paul was supposed to have called me today to meet for lunch. It's now 3:30pm, lunch has passed and no phone call. Grrr! If you say you are going to do something, then do it! Don't sit and jerk my chain around because you have trust issues!!! I could have gone and done something else instead of sit here and wait for the phone to ring! Be prepared for an ass-chewing when you finally do remember to call, you twit!! That is, if I decide to take your call in the first place. Hmph!

I went ahead and ate some leftover pizza for lunch. I should have had a V-8.

I haven't been sleeping well lately, and I don't know why. As of lately, I haven't been able to fall asleep until 3-4am. So, I read...write in my journal...attempt to do the bookwork I'm supposed to do for my job (because that sort of boring thing should be a clear path to Snoozeland)...snuggle with George (the cat). Last night, I decided to poke through my jewelry boxes. I found a cross and a St. Christopher's medal that I had long forgotten about. Both items are of importance to me, even though I am LDS. Generally, LDS folks "don't do" crosses. I never found this odd, until Paul the Catholic thought it so. Now, he tells me when he sees a cross, he thinks of me, and it gives him cause to laugh. I've tried to explain the whole LDS-cross thing...but I don't think he gets it. In my faith, we chose to dwell on the Resurrection, and not the Crucifixion. It's not that we think crosses are bad. It's a symbol of His death. While it is important that He died for our sins, it is also important to note the empty tomb and the fact that He rose and conquered death.

I've seen members wear crosses to church, and no one says anything if they notice it. When we see crosses, we don't go running in opposite direction with blood pouring out of our eyes. If a Mormon wears a cross, they are not damned to Hell and excommunicated from the church. That's the beauty of the LDS church. We are given the free agency to make these choices for ourselves. Isn't that the whole point of being here??

At any rate, the cross used to be my mother's (who is also LDS). I never asked where she got it from (perhaps I should). She gave it to me shortly after my Dad died. I guess she thought I needed it, and maybe I did. I remember after he died, that I felt very lost and confused. I wore the cross on a chain around my neck for a while. I took it off to wear something else, and just never put it back on. It just went into the jewelry box to be forgotten. This was over 11 years ago.

The St. Christopher's medal is another story. I was involved in a bad accident 5 years ago, which left me burned and blind. At the time, I worked with a lot of Catholic women. I loved those women as if they were my own family, and they stuck up for the mouthy Mormon girl when another nurse told me I was going to go to hell for what I believed in (she was Southern Baptist...shocking, I know). I didn't know a lot about the Catholic faith before I worked with these great ladies, but they schooled me. I respected them because they held fast to their beliefs, and respected me because I held to mine. Anyway, I was in this accident. One of my coworkers (Phyllis) went out and bought a St. Christopher's medal, and went to her priest to have it blessed. She told him, "It's for my Mormon friend." He thought it was an odd request, but did it anyway. Phyllis later presented me with this medal. She wanted me to have it so I would be safe when I went anywhere. Incidentally, St. Christopher is the patron saint of travelers. I wore the medal for a long, long time. Do I believe in Patron Saints? Not really, but Phyllis believed in them, enough to go to the trouble of getting the medal, and having it blessed for a non-Catholic. It was important to her, and she had faith it would help me. Because of this, I wore the medal. It came off when I needed to wear a different necklace for my brother's wedding...and it too fell by the wayside of my jewelry box, to be forgotten.

So, now I have these two little silver pieces on one silver chain. I don't even know if you can put a cross and a saint medal on the same chain. These two little things are important to me because they were given to me by people I loved, in times when I was going through great struggle. Sometimes, you can find inspiration in the faith of others...and my cross and medal serve as a reminder of that.

In the darkest moments of my life, I am grateful that I had people who cared enough to share their light with me.

Ho-Hum

Today, I am doing laundry. The maintenance guys are working on a toilet in my building, so I have no running water until they are done. No shower either. So, I wait patiently.

I woke up and Sam smelled like an emesis basin. I discovered that he ralphed in his kennel. So, I managed to give him a bath while I still had running water. I also used my purple shampoo on him to get rid of any yellow tones in his fur. He's a lovely sparkling white! Now, instead of vomit, he smells like wet dog. I can handle that smell a lot better. Vomit smells remind me of work.

I have to take my carpet shampooer in to have a new cord put on it because Sam chewed the old one into many pieces. Little bastard. That one is going to cost me $60 to fix because they have to send out for the repair. Sheesh.

A couple calls to make, an application and various paperwork to complete. Is there no end to the excitement in my life?

The End of the World

First...the tsunami. Then, hurricanes. Then the mudslide. Then the massive, town-leveling earthquake. Now, Trish got high-speed internet.

The world is definitely coming to an end.

But seriously...the number of natural disasters is staggering. The body count rising. As my Mom so put it, "Kind of makes you wonder..."

Indeed.

I even dreamed last night I was in a place where the storms kept coming. Rain and wind, flooding. No power. Death everywhere. I'm glad I woke up...and I love to sleep.

I do have to wonder, though, to what point do people become desensitized and stop caring? I think it is called "Compassion Fatigue". I've seen nurses get it. The point where nothing phases you and you stop caring. I wonder how the Hurricane refugees (yeah, I said refugees) feel in light of seeing the devastation left by the earthquake.

It's a scary world to be in right now, that's for sure.

Happiness if comfortable shoes.

After my ill-fortune with the shoes from hell that I wore to Paula's wedding, I decided to unceremoniously toss those horrible, horrible things. I had taken them with me on both cruises I had been on, and both times, while they looked nice on...they were murder after wearing them for an hour. Each time, I swore never to wear them again...then I would forget...only to remember that vow the next time I wore the shoes. So anyway, I decided to buy another pair of black sandals. This time, I bought Danskos...and they are the best shoes EVER. I own two pair of clogs I wear to work. I love my new sandals. I actually heard my feet sigh when I put them on. I wore them around the apartment. My new height enabled me to see a whole different angle to the freezer. I can't wait to wear them out...but now the weather is colder, and past sandal wearing time...and I am NOT one of those people who wears socks with sandals.

I have come to the sad conclusion that I will never be able to successfully wear a pair of stillettos. I have wide Flintstone feet that are just not cute. From now on, I shall buy only Dansko shoes for all my shoe-wear...unless I have to buy athletic shoes. Dansko doesn't make those...yet.

My mother went to the cabin this weekend, and I am left to my own devices. Lately, I've been consumed with this computer thriller game I bought. It is called "Still Life" and it rocks. I bought two books to read last night...so I can spend the remainder of my time off reading, playing my game, and not working.

Cause for Vomit

I just read that Tom Cruise and Katie Holmes are expecting. Oh joyous rapture! I thought she was a virgin and going to stay that way until she got married. And she gave it away to that asshat!

I once talked to an Indian resident who claimed to be a virgin. Only to find out later from one of the nurses he dated that his idea of being a virgin was merely the Catholic method of "Pull and Pray". Maybe Katie thinks if neither party got their jollies off, it didn't count.

Tom Cruise is now reproducing. I can't help but feel sorry for the child, but then again...it may just grow up dumb and never know that his parents have a collective IQ of 12. Ignorance is bliss.

Would it be too much to hope that Katie has post-partum depression?? I'd like to see Daddy Tom push the misses some Flintstones vitamins and tell her to go bike 10 miles on the treadmill and watch her have a nuclear meltdown. Hee!!

You are required to test out to drive a car, yet anyone with penis and vagina (because it takes both) can produce offspring. There should be a competency test for prospective parents. Nothing that folks with an average IQ couldn't pass. But it would keep Tom and Katie from inflicting their dumbness upon the world by unleashing the fruit of their loins.

So, I am going to go now and take a purge.

I'm not doing it, and you can't make me!!!

My floor is in upheaval. When I applied, I knew that a transition to progressive care was in the works...which was all fine and good. I don't want to be a PCU nurse, but I'll hang out long enough to gain my experience, then go off to do what I really want to do.

Now, the bosshole is dropping this "stroke certification". He says its mandatory, our unit educator says it's not. I like the educator better, so I am going to listen to her. We've come to realize that our bosshole is passive-aggressive. He blows sunshine up your butt when you go to complain to him, but then sends ambiguous spiteful emails to the entire staff later along the lines of, "I'm not going to say who did it, but this happened. Let's not let it happen again because its a very bad thing." Some of the things directly undermines nursing judgement, and that is a very bad thing.

Anyway, I don't want to be stroke certified. I don't like neuro-anything. If I wanted to work on a stroke/neuro floor, I would have applied to work on one in the first place. A lot of my coworkers feel the same way. It's bad enough we are going to go to PCU...which entails some long term, heavy, sick as hell patients. Now, this gets crammed down our throats. Mandatory certification in anything is a load of crap. To make things worse, we are now looking at an overstaffing issue on nights...which means we could start getting floated to other floors. Some of my coworkers have said they would quit before that happens. As it stands, those who worked overtime before, are unable to do so now, and are having to get agency jobs for their overtime hours. No one likes to float, to which our bosshole replies, "That's just the nature of our job." Bullshit.

On the whole, I like being a nurse. I know what it is what I was meant to do in life. I love the people I work with...for the most part. However, I don't like my floor. Usually, I'm a nice, fun person, but when I clock in, I turn into an asshole. I may cut back to part time to retain all my benefits, and then go work somewhere else...like agency. There are other reasons I stay, but I won't go into that right now.

I work tonight and tomorrow then off for seven. Seven days off!!! What will I do with myself!!! I'm going to go hang out with Kant, maybe find other stuff to do as well.

I can hardly wait!