This is bizarre!
Check out the claim:
“Laboratory tests over the last few years have proven that babies who start drinking soda during that early formative period have a much highter chance of gaining acceptance and “fitting in” during those akward pre-teen and teen years.”
Well then my kids all should have been voted “Most Popular” because they were exposed to Diet Pepsi from the get-go through breast feeding. I loves me my Diet Pepsi!
I always wanted to be more popular. Now I can blame my parents.
Did people really believe this tripe?
Tomorrow, Gina at Code Blog: Tales of a Nurse will be hosting Change of Shift.
The theme is, well, being human.
You know, those times when maybe you don’t quite act like a professional?
My problem wasn’t thinking of one.
My problem was picking which one to use!
I can take a lot. I do take a lot.
But play me for a fool, push me far enough, and I will break.
To claim otherwise would be playing myself for a fool.
He was elderly. From South America. Or South Africa. The location isn’t important.
He didn’t speak English.
He had arrived via 911 transport from a nursing home.
Because he vomited.
I’m sure there was more to the story.
But that was the story I got.
The family arrived later. All ten of them. In the middle of the night. They were cool. They stayed in the waiting room.
I didn’t mind. I can work in front of family. And now I had someone who could not only give me an idea of the patient’s baseline, but who could also communicate with the patient.
When Family Member arrived, I started to explain what tests we would run, when I was cut off mid-sentence.
“Why did he vomit?”
“Well, we aren’t sure, we are running tests to see what the problem might be, we are looking for….”
“It’s not that. Get him a blanket. He’s cold.”
I got him two more warm blankets to go with the five that were already on the bed.
“….and we will also be checking for…”
“He doesn’t have that.”
Two differential diagnoses ruled out secondary to Family Member insistence that they do not exist.
I had already set up to place an IV.
I exposed the forearm and placed the tourniquet. Ah, a good one!
I turned to put on my gloves.
I turned back.
The arm was covered.
I explained that while I could keep the rest of the patient bundled up, I had to expose the arm for the IV.
I inserted the angiocath.
“Do you have to do that? It hurts. Can you not do that?”
“Actually, I need to do it so that I can get blood samples and give him something for nausea.”
“Are you in yet? It hurts? Do you have blood yet? Oh God! It hurts. Why don’t you have it yet? When will you stop?”.
I had the line within 15 seconds, max.
I left the room to get the nausea medicine.
I came back in, exposed the forearm where the closest IV port was located and turned to get the syringe.
When I turned back the arm was covered.
I gave the medicine and covered the patient back up.
I turned to dispose of the syringe and then turned back to the patient.
Family Member was feeding the patient a peanut butter and jelly sandwich!
Where the hell did that come from!
In the middle of the night!
“Oh, he can’t have solid food right now! He was vomiting!”
“Please put it away until we know what is wrong with your father/brother/husband/uncle/whatever.”
I entered the room a few minutes later to do a straight catheterization for a specimen.
The light was off.
No biggie, those lights are bright!
I turned the light on, explained what I was going to do and bent my head to open the package and set up.
The light went out.
“It bothers his eyes.”
“I understand, but I have to see what I am doing.”
The light went back on.
I exposed the little bit of anatomy required for the straight cath and turned to put on my gloves.
I turned back to the patient to place the drape.
The patient was covered.
I threw up my (gloved) hands in obvious frustration and said in a voice that I’m sure was a bit to loud and a bit too harsh, with a more than a touch of “pissed off”:
Hon, you have GOT to BACK OFF and LET ME DO MY JOB!
Family member apologized and the catheterization commenced.
The patient was covered by the time my gloves were off.
I heard the click of the light switch as I left the room.
I was not proud of that outburst, and it won’t garner an “Excellent” on the patient satisfaction survey.
But I was past frustrated and more than angry.
I was seething.
And I erupted.
And I wonder why I’m on medication for high blood pressure and acid reflux.
I need to find another field of nursing.
But that’s fodder for another post.