New plan.

We visited my fiance's family for Christmas yesterday. His mom and her husband are both R.N.'s, and of course we talked about my new career a lot. I especially talked to his mom, just venting my frustrations and concerns with my time management skills. She gave me a couple of great tips on how to better manage my time, especially in the morning when assessments and medication delivery are of the essence. I'm going to try her suggestions tomorrow! Thanks, Maureen!


Bye, for now! Stay happy, and healthy!

Decisions, decisions.

After I graduated and passed my NCLEX, I had a choice to make.

I initially wanted to work on a mother/baby unit, being that it was my favorite part of nursing school and I did my final practicum on a postpartum floor. The atmosphere is so much different than on a regular medical/surgical unit. Women having babies are generally happier, more receptive to your teaching, and have less germs and viruses than most patients in the hospital. And the babies are so freaking cute and fun to play with, and what do you do when they start to scream and cry? Give them back to mom!

So, I worked hard to get offered a job at a prestigious hospital for women and babies. I talked to one of my instructors, got the names of some nurse hiring managers there, made an awesome resume, and handed it in, in person, all dolled up in my pretty blouse and high heels. I name-dropped during both of the interviews I got, and was hired immediately on a mother/baby postpartum unit. My dream was coming true. The only drawback: the only shift available was for a night shift nurse. Ugh.

During all of this, I applied for some other jobs for backup. Inluding a Critical Care Nursing Internship Program. I chose neurology because I don’t like cardiac, and I was a psychology major for a couple of years when I first started college. I chose neuro/surgical because I didn’t want to deal with lifelong neurological deficits, and tracheostomies, and things like that. I was actually surprised that I got offered the job there, as well. And it was days. Now I had a tough decision to make.

Do I take my dream job, that I’ve wanted ever since I was in my third semester of nursing school, and risk having to turn into a nocturnal being who might hardly ever see her friends and family again? Or do I take this other, rather challenging job and jump into the deep end of nursing, doing critical care? On one hand, the night shift earned at least $8/hour more than a day shift nurse. On the other hand, if I have critical care experience, it will be easier for me to find a job later on when I want to start traveling.

So me, being the overachiever that I am, decided to go with the more challenging, lesser paying of the two. And now, I’m wondering whether or not I made the right decision. I’m constantly stressed out, I’ve been grinding my teeth so hard my gums bleed and I get migraines, and I’m doubting myself all the time. Lately, every time I work it makes me want to jump off of a tall building. I cry a lot after work, just from the sheer anxiety levels and the sadness I feel from these people I take care of who are more sick and helpless than I’ve ever seen before. Learning not to let my emotions get the best of me is going to be a lifelong lesson, I think.

Anyhow, sorry for the melodramatic post. If you’re thinking of becoming a nurse, or have already started pursuing this career, don’t let this get you down. Every new job has its’ ups and downs, and I’m sure I’ll get over this initial terror and anxiety I feel. Yesterday was a better day for me, and tomorrow will be as well. I’m just not used to not being perfect at something the first time I try it, and it can be frustrating.

Bye, for now! Stay happy, and healthy!

Happy Christmas Eve!

Language barriers.

I have a big problem with nurses mistreating people because they don't speak the same language. Just because someone doesn't speak english doesn't mean that they're dumb, confused, or mentally unstable.


I noticed the other day that a man, sitting on his bedside recliner, had been wheeled out into the hallway and restrained via a belt that tied him to the chair. I queried as to why, and was told that he was confused, unsteady on his feet, and kept trying to get up. They were preventing him from a fall, which could possibly lead to his being injured.


Throughout the night, the poor man began to get angry and tried repeatedly to free himself from the restraint. He would unbutton his shirt and trying to wriggle out of it, without much success. No one seemed to notice, or care, so I would go over to him and tell him in my best spanish that everything was okay, whilst redressing him and holding his hand. He would tell me that everything was not okay, that everything was bad, and that he wanted out of the chair. I'm not much of a spanish speaker, but I could tell, based the few words that I could understand, that this man knew exactly what was going on, and didn't like the way he was being treated. He wasn't confused. He wasn't mentally ill. He knew who and where he was, and he knew that he didn't want to be tied to that chair anymore.


There wasn't much I could do. His nurse wouldn't let me undo the restraint, and I didn't want to push the matter too far. I'm still the new girl, and I don't want to start making enemies now. But I did what I could. I moved my chair right next to him, sang the only song I know in spanish over and over to him (Des Colores), and finished my charting for the night. I probably sang to him for an hour, and he would alter between periods of singing along and dozing off. It was really a sweet sight, to see him so calm and peaceful after all of the combatitive energy he had before. I also got several puzzled looks from my coworkers.


Screw them, I don't care.


Bye, for now! Stay happy, and healthy!

Random letters to random people.

Yesterday was a rough day for me. I work on a critical care unit, and sometimes I wonder if I should have chosen a job at an easier level and worked my way up to this. I feel like I’m trying to run a marathon just after I’ve just learned to walk. Usually, I like to challenge myself, and can do almost anything I put my mind to. But this is by far the hardest things I’ve ever done, and the fact that I’m not naturally a pro at it is especially frustrating, for a perfectionist like myself.

Here are some random letters to random people that helped shape my day:

Dear Lady: I’m sorry I gave you too much pain medicine and dropped your blood pressure down to the 80/30 region. But when I got there that morning, you were having an absolute fit because the nurses at night failed to manage your pain, and I was just trying to help. I’m glad you’re ok now, but you gave me a hell of a scare.

Dear Patient’s Daughter: Hovering over your mom all day long isn’t going to get her better any faster. I know she’s in pain, she had spinal surgery for crying out loud, but she has got to get up out of that bed. Do you want her to end up with bed sores and pneumonia?

Dear Laboratory: Please send medications when we call for them. We are trying to prevent people from having brain spasms and seizures on this floor, and that’s hard to do when our medications arrive 4 hours late. It’s not that difficult. Hang up the phone, put the medication in the tube, and send it. Piece of cake!

Dear Oncoming Night Nurse: Please don’t treat me like I’m a lazy, stupid, careless nurse because I didn’t hang that potassium. I busted my ass all day, I’m new, and you have plenty of time to hang it while all of your patients are asleep.

Dear Other New Nurse: You had a rough day, I could tell. Next time, please ask someone for help so you can eat lunch.

Dear Preceptor: Thank you for talking to me at the end of my shift. I was overwhelmed and on the verge of tears, but you told me that I did a good job, and I really needed that.

Bye for now. Stay happy, and healthy!

I have been fired.

Yes, I got fired yesterday. I know what you're thinking. "Not even a month on the job, after years of schooling and months of training, you got frigging fired?? Wow you must be a crappy nurse." Well, actually, the other nurses tell me that it happens fairly often. My preceptor got fired last week by an angry man with schizophrenia.


I didn't know this before, but as a patient in the hospital, you have every right to fire your nurse and demand a new one. Let me start from the beginning. My patient, a rather anxious, talkative fellow, had begun to complain about his meals in a loud manner. He wanted ice cream, dammit, and roast beef sandwiches! I checked his chart and his history, and reminded him that because he was a diabetic, he was also on a diabetic diet, and I couldn't bring anything other than what was on his tray. And that this was a hospital, not a restaurant, and we didn't have roast beef.

That was perhaps not the best choice of words, because then he got more worked up about it and began to insist angrily that he was not a diabetic, he had never been a diabetic, and how dare we make up false accusations about him even being a diabetic in the first place? It was all getting very conspiracy-theory, and I racked my brain trying to think of what I could say or do to extinguish the fuse before the bomb really went off. I promised him that I would talk to the doctor and see what I could do. I turned around a walked out of the room, trying hard not to take the barrage of swear words and insults too personally as I left.

So I called to the doctor on the phone (which still terrifies me) and explained the situation. My charge nurse also wanted me to tell the doctor about his behavior, so I relayed the information. The doctor had me change his diet, and said goodnight.

Two minutes later, my phone rings.

“Did you say that Mr. _________ was being rude to you?”

“Yes…”

“Let me talk to him.”

.......

Shit! Now I’m a tattle-tale. My patient is going to know I was the one who ratted him out, and he’s going to be seriously pissed off. What could I do? The answer: nothing. So I accepted my fate, transfer the call, and awaited my punishment.

It was like clockwork. Two minutes later, my patient begins to call for me. Louder. Angrier. I must have turned as white as a sheet, because another nurse asked me if I was okay. I gathered my strength, told her that if I wasn’t back in 5 minutes to come looking for me, and headed towards his room. I tried to stop my hands from shaking as I handed him the ice-cream he wanted earlier, and asked him how he was doing. But I swear to you, he could sense my fear. Like a dog, or a bear, or whatever animal it is that can sense your fear and rip you to shreds. I’m not very good at confrontations.


He very expressively announced where I could shove that ice-cream, and basically told me that I was horrible human being. He used more f-bombs, and told me how insulted he was. He said I was no longer to talk to him, that I could come in the room and do what I had to do, but there would be no line of communication between us. After I left, however, he must have realize that if he wanted his pain medication he would have to break this new no-talking rule of his and ask me for it. So he then proceeded to called my preceptor into the room and informed her that not only was I ex-communicated from him, I was also exiled from the room altogether. Long story short, she became his new nurse, my patient load dropped from 3 to 2, and I ended up having a nice, easy afternoon after that.


Walking past his room for the rest of the day was scary. I half expected random objects to come hurling my way at any given moment. Considering the fact that he was HIV+ (coupled with the fact that I have a sick, twisted mind), blood-tipped needle-darts were on top of the list of flying missiles I was imagining. But the Gator game was on so he was adequately distracted, and it was actually kind of perfect because my preceptor is a huge Gator’s fan. She was even wearing her blue and orange scrubs. They were like old pals, and their beloved Gators won 31 - 20 agains ‘Bama, clinching the SEC title.

I beat myself up for this for a while, at first, because I’m really a nice girl and was nothing but sticky-sweet-as-sugar kind to him all morning. But then I got over it. And you know what? That guy can suck it. Seriously.

Bye for now! Stay happy, and healthy!

UPDATE: Tebow didn't get the Heisman trophy??? Really?? What a bummer!

Christmastime, already?

We just put up our Christmas tree today! I can’t believe it’s that time of year already. I worked on Thanksgiving, so it was almost like it didn’t really happen this year. And now, it’s like, bam! Christmas!

I thought that since, you know, I’m a nurse, I’d at least be a millionaire by now. ‘Cause nurses get paid, amiright? Unfortunately, I’m barely making more money than I did while I was bar tending. I’m still in my preceptorship, which means I’m still training and I don’t get any extra money for overtime or differentials for evening hours yet. I thought that this would be the year I could buy bad-ass gifts for my family and friends, because I’d be a millionaire, remember? I didn’t, however, take into consideration the massive credit card debt I accrued, or the student loan debt I have yet to start paying off. But I’m not going to try not to sweat it. At least I have friends and family that I can worry about severely disappointing, right?

I can remember what I was doing at almost this exact moment last year. I was trying to con my nursing instructor to let me take my final exam early. I made up an elaborate lie about how my family was going on a vacation to South America, and really wanted me to come with them and share the experience. But in reality, I just wanted to go on this Mexican cruise with a friend of mine. She ended up buying it, and I got to go on my cruise. Mexico in December is amazing!

Bye for now! Stay happy, and healthy!

Hot Pink Pants

Ever want to dress like you’re an 80’s rock star? Without getting funny looks and dumbfounded stares? Become a nurse! Yes, that’s right, you can wear any color pants you want, without fear. Neon green, bright blue, shiny purple, whatever suits your fancy. And no one will think anything of it. Seriously!

The first set of scrubs I bought for my new job consisted of a printed top, and… hot pink pants. I never, in a million years, thought I would be rocking hot pink pants, and it not being a dare, or Halloween or something. I mean, I’m a fairly conservative girl when it comes to how I dress. Jeans are a huge part my wardrobe. So when I was walking through the hall of the hospital where I work, and caught a glimpse of myself strutting along in my hot-pink scrub pants, it really threw me off.

Here’s a summary of what went through my head that morning:

“Who is that chick pimping hot pink pants? What in the hell is she thinking? Pfft, she probably works at the circus or something.”

“OH. MY. GOD.”

Well, I got over it pretty quickly. I no longer look down occasionally and cringe in horror. It’s actually kind of liberating, learning how to deal with bright, blinding colors after so many years of denim (and the occasional corduroys). I figure, if I can look halfway decent in hot pink pants, I can probably strut my stuff in anything and get away with it. I mean, there are tons of female role models rock stars that have worn hot pink pants before, right? Madonna? Cyndi Lauper? Cher? Now I can pretend I’m a rock star, too! You’ll never know what’s going on inside your nurse’s head while she’s removing those staples from your scalp. For all you know, she’s basking in the glow of the spotlight, up on stage, singing “Love Shack” in front of thousands of screaming fans at Woodstock. Or maybe that’s just me…

Bye for now! Stay happy and healthy!

So one day, I decided to start my own blog...

Yeah, I know. “You and everyone else! You really expect me to keep up with another freaking blog?” Well, to put it bluntly, no. I really don’t expect anyone, anwhere to ever read this. And I don’t blame them. As a matter of fact, I’m going to write this blog with the intention that no one will ever read it. Yes, I think that will help keep me honest. And lower my inhibitions. Like drinking.

So, anyway, a little background about me. I am a registered nurse. I am uniquely inexperienced. I finished nursing school a few months ago. Hooray! Best day of my life, next to passing the NCLEX!

Before I started nursing school, I floundered through 6 years of college, majoring in psychology for a little while, dropping out, taking classes, dropping out. You know the routine. But finally I decided that I had to buckle down, and 2 years later, here I am. Also, before I started nursing school, I had never, ever set foot in a hospital. Except for that time that my mom gave birth to me, that is. I had no idea what a nurse did, except that they “helped take care of people.” And that’s what I wanted to do. I wanted to help people and take care of them.

I thought that being a nurse, you know, I’d be brushing peoples’ hair and bringing them chicken noodle soup, sappy stuff like that. You know, being nice to people. Helping them. Taking care of them. Let me tell you, right here, right now: THAT’S NOT WHAT THEY DO. They do some of the most horrifying, painful, and embarrassing things to people that you can imagine. Well, that might be an exaggeration, but it’s not totally off the mark. Being a nurse is one of the most unglamorous, unappreciated, and downright disgusting professions in the world. I mean, it pays well, there’s lots of perks, and people respect a nurse. But it will humble you.

I talk about poop. A lot. Us nurses literally sit around, talking about poop, for hours on end. Pooping is critical to a persons hospital stay. It’s important. On my unit, you almost have to poop before you go home. Not pooping will keep you in the hospital longer than you need to be. Have you ever encouraged a full-grown adult to try and poop before? Until a month ago, neither had I. Now I do it several times a week. No, I’m being nice. I don’t just encourage them. I threaten them with suppositories and enemas if they don’t poop. If you think about it, it seems ironic that the way to get something to come out of a person’s butt is to shove something in to a person’s butt.

Really, I am very concerned about any sort of fluid that comes out of your body. Took a piss? I need to see and measure that. Did you just blow chunks? Yep, I gotta see what it looks like. Is your incision draining pus and blood? You guessed it… lemme see. Like I said, not exactly glamorous.

Well, I think I’ve just made sure that, if anyone did stop by and read this, I’ve successfully sent them screaming and running away. Sorry about that. But this blog is for me to vent about my life, and especially being a nurse. I have to act happy and upbeat all day, and pretend that what I’m doing isn’t horrifying and bizarre. But it is! Not to say it isn’t rewarding to see someone go from not being able to move from the neck down, to walking out of the hospital on their own two feet. It’s a wonderful feeling knowing you had a part in that. But… it’s gross, too.

Bye, for now! Stay happy, and healthy!