OK, just so you know, nurses are overworked. My last two work days have been incredibly stressful, partly because I have only recently been turned loose from orientation, where I had somebody with some experience helping me that I don't have anymore, partly because the patients I had were extremely sick and/or demanding, and partly because one and possibly more of our physicians are complete dicks.
I am an oncology nurse in a major cancer center, so you expect people to be really sick and also dealing with some fairly emotional issues. I'm really good with people and can usually smooth the roughest of feathers, but I came up against someone the other day who could not be charmed. Tough enough, but it was the same day another patient was in serious trouble (she died later that night), and I had two patients with intractable pain and nausea. So I was running from one to the other with morphine and antiemetics while trying to keep the one patient alive and the other appeased. (I am constantly amazed at people who think that "nurse" is another word for "concierge").
Anyway, as you're voting this year,(which of course, you will do because you are a concerned citizen), vote for people who are concerned about nurse staffing ratios. Hospitals, in order to control costs, are always sometimes trying to give nurses more patients, while also asking them to take more responsibility for the care of said patients, and to learn more complicated equipment and such. We also are required to learn about a dizzying array of new medications coming on the market at any given time, and when we get too busy, it's not safe for patients. Laws need to be passed in this country to mandate safe nurse/patient ratios.
On a lighter note, you will be happy to know that the E! network has a new reality series beginning October 2 called, "House of Carters", showing what happens when Backstreet Boys' Nick Carter decides to have his brother and sisters move in with him in order to straighten everybody out because they had such horrid childhoods. Holt worked for the family for a time at their compound in the lovely Florida Keys and I can tell you, these kids never had a chance. A perfect example of how easily money can corrupt people with negligible intelligence. I would post a link to the promotional site if I knew how to post a link, but I don't, so you will just have to find it yourself.
Also on a lighter note, Holt and I went to the local high school football game on Friday to watch Martin march with the band, playing his mellophone. Martin never missed a step, and the band sounded great. The team also won 57-13, which is not really much of a game, if you ask me, but it gave the band the opportunity to play the school fight song a lot from the stands. When you work in a high stress occupation, it is also nice to experience a little slice of Americana once in a while.
Thursday, August 31, 2006
Wednesday, August 30, 2006
Ah, life!
Hello, fellow travelers. Yes, yes, I know I've been away a long time, but I kind of got busy. The last time we talked, I was struggling through my first year of nursing school. Well, I made it through that one and the next, and passed the big test with flying colors. I now sign RN after my name, even on checks, and three or four days a week have peoples' actual lives in my hands. It is by far the most rewarding thing I have ever done with my life, on a personal level as well as financial. Not that I in any way am doing this for the money, it would never be enough. But it is a nice change to have a predictable income at our house, as it has been a very long time since that happened.
I would love to be able to share stories of my work life, but unfortunately what with the confidentiality laws and all, I must not, unless I can think of really sneaky ways to do it and protect the identities of patients and myself from getting sued or fired or both. We'll see.
I have been thinking a lot lately about what it means to be alive at this particular time in human development. All the attention on foreign countries and such has made me think a lot about what it means to be American as well. It seems to me we have lost something very basic here. It struck me today as I was thumbing through a magazine about kitchen remodeling. (Mine needs some updating.) I wondered at the vast assortment of products available and how each one was presented in a "you NEED to have this" kind of a way. So many of us are looking for something, trying to fill a hole with the latest, greatest whatever, or thinking that we need a huge house, or a new car, or better clothes, when really and truly, what we need is just each other. I worry about an America that sets such great store by what we possess, and such little store by supporting each other. I worry about what will happen when it all comes crashing down (as it surely will) around us and all we have is each other to depend on. Other people in the world know how to get by with practically nothing, but what will we do without cars, or microwaves, or grocery stores? Do we still have the drive and the injenuity to make it work out? Or will we descend into chaos? Hmmmmm.
I would love to be able to share stories of my work life, but unfortunately what with the confidentiality laws and all, I must not, unless I can think of really sneaky ways to do it and protect the identities of patients and myself from getting sued or fired or both. We'll see.
I have been thinking a lot lately about what it means to be alive at this particular time in human development. All the attention on foreign countries and such has made me think a lot about what it means to be American as well. It seems to me we have lost something very basic here. It struck me today as I was thumbing through a magazine about kitchen remodeling. (Mine needs some updating.) I wondered at the vast assortment of products available and how each one was presented in a "you NEED to have this" kind of a way. So many of us are looking for something, trying to fill a hole with the latest, greatest whatever, or thinking that we need a huge house, or a new car, or better clothes, when really and truly, what we need is just each other. I worry about an America that sets such great store by what we possess, and such little store by supporting each other. I worry about what will happen when it all comes crashing down (as it surely will) around us and all we have is each other to depend on. Other people in the world know how to get by with practically nothing, but what will we do without cars, or microwaves, or grocery stores? Do we still have the drive and the injenuity to make it work out? Or will we descend into chaos? Hmmmmm.
Saturday, October 23, 2004
They Eat Horses, Don't They?
Well, I'm a little tender in the tail today, fellow journeypeople. You see, earlier in the week, whilst on a jaunt about the countryside (otherwise known as "the back 40"), my trusty steed, whose name I have permanently changed to "European Tablefare" spooked at a horse-eating leaf which blew across his path and threw me in the dirt. I landed squarely on my tailbone, which I believe to be fractured, though in typical fashion among those of us in the medical community, I've not wanted to pursue a definitive diagnosis of same. I am tempted to limp along to the emergency room today for an Xray, however, as I spent all day yesterday sitting in one of those fold up metal chairs and I would rather die than sit in one ever again. Oh, the pain!
I was sitting in that chair while attending Hospice volunteer training. I am hoping to carry on my dear mother's "Angel of Death" work, whereby one gives a dying person permission to die enabling them to slip peacefully into the abyss. Hospice is a wonderful organization, by the way, and you should support it with your charity dollars, if you have any.
This week's stressful chack off at the Nazi School of Nursing was Vital signs. I was very prepared, practicing taking blood pressures on everyone I met and not allowing my children to have friends over unless the friends agreed to let me check theirs while they were here. I had the delightful Ms. Fry as my evaluator for this test, a jolly young woman with whom I would probably hang out if circumstances were different. My partner on whom I had to perform the evaluative tests of temperature, pulse, respirations and blood pressure was Ms. Swisher, who is a great student and all around nice person, but, unfortunately, the only one of my fellow students I had not practiced performing the evaluations on. Ms. Fry had the choice of assigning us oral, timpanic, axillary or rectal temperature, and I was grateful that she gave me timpanic. I completed the temperature reading with flying colors, then reached for Ms Swisher's wrist. I could not detect a radial pulse. Ms. Swisher tried to reassure me and told me many other students had had a difficult time finding it. I tried the other arm. I finally managed to find the pulse. For the test, the instructor takes one arm and the student takes the other. Both count the pusle and have to come up with the same number. In my nervousness, I believe I counted 29, 40 instead of 29, 30, as I was exactly 10 off from Ms. Fry at the end of 30 seconds. At any rate, I failed pulse taking the first time. I went on to get perfect scores on respirations and blood pressure, but had to go back the following day and repeat pulse taking with Ms. Corgan as my adjudicator and Ms. Frampton (who has an easily locatable radial pulse) as my subject. This time, I got it right, and so I continue.
It's Saturday morning and I've just seen the most wonderful program on TV Land. I don't have any idea what it was called, as I was just mindlessly flipping channels, having been awakened much too early by the barking family dog, Tater, and having recently attempted to wean myself off caffeine by cutting the real coffee with decaf, but it was an exploration of the gambling habits of the much beloved star of "Eight is Enough", Dick Van Patten. It showed him in a box at the racetrack with Tim Conway and Jack Klugman betting hundreds of dollars on losing horses. Then he was playing tennis doubles with his son, Nels, who I gathered is a tennis pro, Alan Thicke, and Bernie Kopell, of "Love Boat" fame. Alan Thicke was paired with Nels VP and Bernie and Dick played against them. Alan Thicke bet Nels that DVP would want to bet on the game, and sure enough, Dick wanted to make a wager. Everyone talked about how much he cheated and how he always liked to set up the teams so he would win the bet. The next segment was a celebrity poker match with old has been TV stars, including Dick Van Patten and sons Vincent and Nels, Scott Valentine (I can't remember what he was on, but he has aged well!) Robert Mandan, David Groh, Mickey Rooney, Connie Stevens, Charlene Tilton, Jim J. Bullock, Barry Williams, Susan Olsen, Steve Landisburg, Richard Kline, and Dom DeLuise. The whole thing was hilarious and I demand you watch it!
I was sitting in that chair while attending Hospice volunteer training. I am hoping to carry on my dear mother's "Angel of Death" work, whereby one gives a dying person permission to die enabling them to slip peacefully into the abyss. Hospice is a wonderful organization, by the way, and you should support it with your charity dollars, if you have any.
This week's stressful chack off at the Nazi School of Nursing was Vital signs. I was very prepared, practicing taking blood pressures on everyone I met and not allowing my children to have friends over unless the friends agreed to let me check theirs while they were here. I had the delightful Ms. Fry as my evaluator for this test, a jolly young woman with whom I would probably hang out if circumstances were different. My partner on whom I had to perform the evaluative tests of temperature, pulse, respirations and blood pressure was Ms. Swisher, who is a great student and all around nice person, but, unfortunately, the only one of my fellow students I had not practiced performing the evaluations on. Ms. Fry had the choice of assigning us oral, timpanic, axillary or rectal temperature, and I was grateful that she gave me timpanic. I completed the temperature reading with flying colors, then reached for Ms Swisher's wrist. I could not detect a radial pulse. Ms. Swisher tried to reassure me and told me many other students had had a difficult time finding it. I tried the other arm. I finally managed to find the pulse. For the test, the instructor takes one arm and the student takes the other. Both count the pusle and have to come up with the same number. In my nervousness, I believe I counted 29, 40 instead of 29, 30, as I was exactly 10 off from Ms. Fry at the end of 30 seconds. At any rate, I failed pulse taking the first time. I went on to get perfect scores on respirations and blood pressure, but had to go back the following day and repeat pulse taking with Ms. Corgan as my adjudicator and Ms. Frampton (who has an easily locatable radial pulse) as my subject. This time, I got it right, and so I continue.
It's Saturday morning and I've just seen the most wonderful program on TV Land. I don't have any idea what it was called, as I was just mindlessly flipping channels, having been awakened much too early by the barking family dog, Tater, and having recently attempted to wean myself off caffeine by cutting the real coffee with decaf, but it was an exploration of the gambling habits of the much beloved star of "Eight is Enough", Dick Van Patten. It showed him in a box at the racetrack with Tim Conway and Jack Klugman betting hundreds of dollars on losing horses. Then he was playing tennis doubles with his son, Nels, who I gathered is a tennis pro, Alan Thicke, and Bernie Kopell, of "Love Boat" fame. Alan Thicke was paired with Nels VP and Bernie and Dick played against them. Alan Thicke bet Nels that DVP would want to bet on the game, and sure enough, Dick wanted to make a wager. Everyone talked about how much he cheated and how he always liked to set up the teams so he would win the bet. The next segment was a celebrity poker match with old has been TV stars, including Dick Van Patten and sons Vincent and Nels, Scott Valentine (I can't remember what he was on, but he has aged well!) Robert Mandan, David Groh, Mickey Rooney, Connie Stevens, Charlene Tilton, Jim J. Bullock, Barry Williams, Susan Olsen, Steve Landisburg, Richard Kline, and Dom DeLuise. The whole thing was hilarious and I demand you watch it!
Friday, October 08, 2004
Oh, the humiliation!
Good Lord. Sorry I haven't written anything this week, but I have been very busy trying to pass dressing changes, and it hasn't been pretty. I have donned more sterile gloves this week than Noah Wylie has in eight seasons of ER. My fingers are starting to crack and bleed from all the hand washing. And still the prize eludes me. I have lived my entire life for external gratification and, while I have earned the respect of my peers for sticking with it in the face of such utter humiliation, I still have not heard the roar of my instructors' praise.
I understand the meaning of maintaining sterility and can explain the rationale for every movement. I just can't seem to get through the stupid procedure without making a critical error. The first time I was tested, I forgot to wash my hands after touching the garbage can. I was nervous and distracted because there was extra stuff on the supply table that I was not sure if I was supposed to use so I took it and made extra work for myself in an effort to appear an overachiever. However, it threw off my carefully choreographed rhythm and I forgot the essential hand washing. On my next try, (for a different instructor) I did everything perfectly, except my gauze caught on the dummy's stitches (they're made of fishing line) as I was swiping the wound. I started my swipe over, knowing that I would never do that in real life, that the gauze would not get caught on the stitches in real life and stating to the instructor, "I would never do this in real life." It didn't matter. She let me finish the procedure, then said,"I'm sorry Ms. Dependent, I have to fail you." So today, I tried again, for a third instructor. I made it past the first three hand washings, gathering my supplies, draping the client for warmth and privacy, and had even used the term "serosanguinous exudate" properly. As I was donning my sterile gloves, the final step before actually cleaning the wound, the paper they are packaged in flipped back and MAYBE contaminated my left glove. I didn't even realize it, but the instructor was watching me like a hawk. "Are you happy with your gloving technique?" she asked. I panicked, knowing there was something wrong, but having no idea what it was. "Um, well, it was kind of hard to get the right one on, but I thought I did OK," I said. "I think the paper flipped back and contaminated your left glove," she said. I am a big picture person, and the detail had evidently eluded me in my haste to get to the wound cleaning part. It was unbelievable, I have been getting compliments on my gloving since the first week of school. I must have looked completely panic stricken, because she said, "Let's just call this a practice session and you can practice really hard over the weekend and do it again for me on Monday."
I am grateful for yet another chance, but keep in mind, I have been practicing for a couple of weeks now. My peers, who think I am smart, all run to me as I enter the lab. "Oh, Code, please watch me do a dressing change and tell me what I am doing wrong." I have critiqued many, and helped them to overcome their difficulties. When others watch me, they say, "Oh, you do that so well. I love the way you set up your sterile field." I performed the procedure no less than THREE TIMES in the lab this afternoon with NO ERRORS. I just can't seem to repeat the phenomenon when a person of authority is watching.
Ah, well. Monday is another day. I had better get it right, though. There is only one instructor left and the lab is running out of gloves and gauze pads.
I understand the meaning of maintaining sterility and can explain the rationale for every movement. I just can't seem to get through the stupid procedure without making a critical error. The first time I was tested, I forgot to wash my hands after touching the garbage can. I was nervous and distracted because there was extra stuff on the supply table that I was not sure if I was supposed to use so I took it and made extra work for myself in an effort to appear an overachiever. However, it threw off my carefully choreographed rhythm and I forgot the essential hand washing. On my next try, (for a different instructor) I did everything perfectly, except my gauze caught on the dummy's stitches (they're made of fishing line) as I was swiping the wound. I started my swipe over, knowing that I would never do that in real life, that the gauze would not get caught on the stitches in real life and stating to the instructor, "I would never do this in real life." It didn't matter. She let me finish the procedure, then said,"I'm sorry Ms. Dependent, I have to fail you." So today, I tried again, for a third instructor. I made it past the first three hand washings, gathering my supplies, draping the client for warmth and privacy, and had even used the term "serosanguinous exudate" properly. As I was donning my sterile gloves, the final step before actually cleaning the wound, the paper they are packaged in flipped back and MAYBE contaminated my left glove. I didn't even realize it, but the instructor was watching me like a hawk. "Are you happy with your gloving technique?" she asked. I panicked, knowing there was something wrong, but having no idea what it was. "Um, well, it was kind of hard to get the right one on, but I thought I did OK," I said. "I think the paper flipped back and contaminated your left glove," she said. I am a big picture person, and the detail had evidently eluded me in my haste to get to the wound cleaning part. It was unbelievable, I have been getting compliments on my gloving since the first week of school. I must have looked completely panic stricken, because she said, "Let's just call this a practice session and you can practice really hard over the weekend and do it again for me on Monday."
I am grateful for yet another chance, but keep in mind, I have been practicing for a couple of weeks now. My peers, who think I am smart, all run to me as I enter the lab. "Oh, Code, please watch me do a dressing change and tell me what I am doing wrong." I have critiqued many, and helped them to overcome their difficulties. When others watch me, they say, "Oh, you do that so well. I love the way you set up your sterile field." I performed the procedure no less than THREE TIMES in the lab this afternoon with NO ERRORS. I just can't seem to repeat the phenomenon when a person of authority is watching.
Ah, well. Monday is another day. I had better get it right, though. There is only one instructor left and the lab is running out of gloves and gauze pads.
Wednesday, September 29, 2004
Ha, ha, ha, ha, Stayin' Alive, Stayin' Alive
Well, all the damage reports won' t be in until they run a few more days worth of 24 hour a day reports on all the damage, but it seems my own personal family survived hurricane Jeanne pretty much unscathed. We WILL need a new roof, but we needed one anyway, so this will just clinch the deal. There are a few trees down in the neighborhood, but none in my yard, so I just pretend I don't see the neighbors' trees down in their yards as I drive by and I haven't let it be known that I own a chainsaw. Lots of flooding around and some trailers blown apart, but nobody dead to my knowledge, so that's a good thing.
I have gained about ten pounds since we started having hurricanes just from eating the food. The day this last one hit, I kept telling myself I should study, but was so exhausted from all the prep stuff that all I could do was sit in my chair, watch Tom Terry (my favorite weatherman), and eat potato chips and Oreos. So today, I started back on the cheese and meat diet, with which I have had much success in the past. I have to start wearing white next week and we all know what THAT does to a chunky girl!
In school today, I learned how to insert a Foley catheter. I did pretty well, except the fake penis I had to practice on had some sort of obstruction and the cathether wouldn't go all the way through. Words I never thought I'd hear an instructor say, "You have to pull up really hard on that penis so you can push it through." Apparently, we will get to work on real penises at the end of the semester at the old folks' home. Penises have always been really special to me and it kind of makes me sad that I will see so many of them that they won't be special anymore.
Well, I suppose I shall be a good citizen and watch those presidential debates tomorrow. I am awfully tired of it all, though. I will be surprised if either of them have anything to say that interests me. I would be even more surprised if either of them, once elected, could do anything to make my life better. Our society is pretty f&%^ed up if you ask me, and we've gone so far down the pike, I don't know if we'll ever find our way back. Too bad nobody thought to drop some breadcrumbs......
I have gained about ten pounds since we started having hurricanes just from eating the food. The day this last one hit, I kept telling myself I should study, but was so exhausted from all the prep stuff that all I could do was sit in my chair, watch Tom Terry (my favorite weatherman), and eat potato chips and Oreos. So today, I started back on the cheese and meat diet, with which I have had much success in the past. I have to start wearing white next week and we all know what THAT does to a chunky girl!
In school today, I learned how to insert a Foley catheter. I did pretty well, except the fake penis I had to practice on had some sort of obstruction and the cathether wouldn't go all the way through. Words I never thought I'd hear an instructor say, "You have to pull up really hard on that penis so you can push it through." Apparently, we will get to work on real penises at the end of the semester at the old folks' home. Penises have always been really special to me and it kind of makes me sad that I will see so many of them that they won't be special anymore.
Well, I suppose I shall be a good citizen and watch those presidential debates tomorrow. I am awfully tired of it all, though. I will be surprised if either of them have anything to say that interests me. I would be even more surprised if either of them, once elected, could do anything to make my life better. Our society is pretty f&%^ed up if you ask me, and we've gone so far down the pike, I don't know if we'll ever find our way back. Too bad nobody thought to drop some breadcrumbs......
Saturday, September 25, 2004
Anything for a Story
I am constantly amazed at the utter stupidity of TV news reporters and directors. This is never more evident than during hurricane prep, when every bright, young reporter is sent out to every possible landfall location to see how people are preparing, and then report on the damage as the storm passes. I love the kids who stand out in what is really just a typical rainstorm for us and say,"It's really starting to come down now. If you look over there (camera pans right) you can see some branches that have come off the trees already." Then the camera lands on a few palm fronds laying in the street.
Last night, channel nine, (which I only watch because that is where Tom Terry, the best meteorologist in the country works) sank to a new low. They did a story about two old bats with booze legs, leathery skin, and bleached blonde hair, who are staying put in their condo on the beach in Melbourne. (I swear neither one of them was my mother, although, she is an old bat and is staying put in her condo in Ormond Beach, but does not have bleached blonde hair. Or booze legs.) They stayed put during the last storm, they said, and this one would be no different. They cackled as they showed the reporter how they pressed their hands up against the sliding glass doors as they bowed in under the strain of the winds in Frances. "It was pretty scary", they said, "but we had fun." They showed the reporter the supply of steaks and wine, lots of wine, they had acquired for consumption during the storm. One wonders if they have a gas grill, or if they just light the charcoal right in the house.
Anyway, the anchors had to come on in the next segment and do a sort of discalimer. "We just want you folks to know that putting your hands on your sliding glass doors and trying to hold them in during the storm is not really a good idea." NO DUH.
Well, the winds ARE picking up here, but so far there are no branches down. I'll keep you posted.
Last night, channel nine, (which I only watch because that is where Tom Terry, the best meteorologist in the country works) sank to a new low. They did a story about two old bats with booze legs, leathery skin, and bleached blonde hair, who are staying put in their condo on the beach in Melbourne. (I swear neither one of them was my mother, although, she is an old bat and is staying put in her condo in Ormond Beach, but does not have bleached blonde hair. Or booze legs.) They stayed put during the last storm, they said, and this one would be no different. They cackled as they showed the reporter how they pressed their hands up against the sliding glass doors as they bowed in under the strain of the winds in Frances. "It was pretty scary", they said, "but we had fun." They showed the reporter the supply of steaks and wine, lots of wine, they had acquired for consumption during the storm. One wonders if they have a gas grill, or if they just light the charcoal right in the house.
Anyway, the anchors had to come on in the next segment and do a sort of discalimer. "We just want you folks to know that putting your hands on your sliding glass doors and trying to hold them in during the storm is not really a good idea." NO DUH.
Well, the winds ARE picking up here, but so far there are no branches down. I'll keep you posted.
Friday, September 24, 2004
Live...From the Eye of the Storm
OK, so I've just about had enough of these stupid hurricanes. Could we just have a normal weekend, for heaven's sake, without all the scurrying and nailing and things? My boards from "Frances" just came down last weekend, having been left up in anticipation of "Ivan", who threatened for a while, but didn't even come here. I have no time or energy to go put them back up for "Jeanne", so this will probably be the proverbial "big one" we've heard so much about, and I will lose part of my house. Oh, well. I am once again, watching the news non-stop, looking for any nuance in the sattelite photo that could determine for sure where she will go. My man, Tom Terry, on channel nine, seems to have an instinct where hurricanes are concerned. He was the ONLY weather man who said hurricane Charley would go where it would go a whole DAY ahead, and no one at the NHC would listen to him. He's saying Jeanne will come right over my house, so I'm paying attention. And I predict a network job for Mr. Terry as soon as this hurricane season is over.
What I am not doing is panicking. My other half, Tone Blaster (I don't refer to him as my better half, because he's not) has seen fit to be "out of town" on "business" this weekend. It's a good thing, because if I had to deal with his incessant running in and out the door checking the weather whilst hammering up boards on the outside of the house and ordering the children to turn off the TV and pick up the yard again, I might have to choke him in his sleep. I am simply too stressed.
We've plenty of baked beans and pop-tarts, so Jeanne can just come and get me, by gosh.
What I am not doing is panicking. My other half, Tone Blaster (I don't refer to him as my better half, because he's not) has seen fit to be "out of town" on "business" this weekend. It's a good thing, because if I had to deal with his incessant running in and out the door checking the weather whilst hammering up boards on the outside of the house and ordering the children to turn off the TV and pick up the yard again, I might have to choke him in his sleep. I am simply too stressed.
We've plenty of baked beans and pop-tarts, so Jeanne can just come and get me, by gosh.
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