Clock Fall

This happened in the middle of the night. We're supposed to turn the clocks back in the Fall. This clock must have gotten confused and thought that it was Fall down, not Fall back.

It landed on a dog bed, I don't know if anyone was on the bed at the time, but Murphy is giving the bed a wide birth when he must walk past it.

Golytely And Run Fast

When patients need GI procedures, they have to drink Golytely to flush out their digestive tract. It tastes like metallic ocean water and most people have to drink a gallon of it. It begins to work in about an hour. I had a patient drink it tonight and was very lucky that he had good bowel control and was able to run to the bathroom. There are few things worse than giving Golytely to an incontinent, bedridden patient.
Masks and air fresheners are a nurse's best friends when a patient is on Golytely. It helps, but a space suit would be better.

Flying Blood

I was having a hard time disconnecting some blood tubing. I was using all of my strength when suddenly the connection gave way, sending a spray of blood down my front, over my shoulder, across the floor and against the wall. One tiny droplet hit my eyelid. It was Red Cross blood, so
hopefully it was more or less screened.

Meet The New Neighbors

My new next door neighbors started moving in yesterday morning. They rented a truck and got all of their friends and extended family to help move them. At least that's who I hope they all are. If they are all going to live there, it's going to be a bit crowded.

Of course I watched the entire process. I'm curious about other people and how they live and I figured that this would be my only chance to see what's in their home.

I watched as a drawer full of panties was dropped in the street, bikini cotton pastels. When would I have another opportunity to find out what kind of underwear my neighbor wears? I also saw the leopard print furniture. It would go quite nicely in my house, not that I would have the courage to buy something like that. My entire downstairs is shades of beige. But the leopard print would help hide the dog dirt on the furniture.

Last night after I went to bed, I could hear them still moving things and it was around 2 am. At dawn, they were still moving things. Tom Tom, of course, isn't happy about people walking on his street, so he has been barking nonstop at the front window. I'm sleep deprived and the new neighbors are probably sorry that they bought a house next to a barking dog. If they will just stay inside their house, the barking will stop. Is that too much to ask?

Dumped On Again

Day shift dumped on us again. The patient was supposed to get a laxative suppository at 10 am. They, once again, waited until 2:30 pm to give it. That left us, once again, to deal with the consequences. Because the patient is bedbound and incontinent plus not having "gone" since last Tuesday, the consequences were nasty.

I ordered a pineapple, jalapeno pepper pizza tonight. They wanted to know if it was okay if they put tomato sauce on it. Isn't that like asking if I wanted a crust and cheese? Politely, I answered yes, but inside I was screaming, "Are you out of your mind?"

A patient was discharged and walking toward the exit when he asked if he could have a hospital bed. We get this all of the time. The patients are here several days, a discharge planner visits every patient and talks about what equipment the patient will need at home and when necessary, makes the rental arrangements. So, why is it that at night when the discharge planner is gone, do the discharged patients suddenly realize that they want a bed or other major piece of equipment? Do they think that we stock this stuff and can just hand them a bed on the way out? This just drives us crazy.

Saturday is when men with power tools injure themselves. So, it being a Saturday, we got a patient who shot himself in the wrist with a nail gun. He's lucky that it missed the arteries. He was too groggy from the procedure to remove the nail from the wrist bone, so we couldn't ask him how it happened, but it doesn't really matter. It's Saturday, he's a man and he has a power tool.

Lastly, we had a patient who thought that the Mexican Mafia was after her. She thought, also, that we put something in the foot of her bed to make her feet burn. Damn. She's on to us.

Blondes Frolicking In The Sun

This morning was warm and sunny. After several days of gloom it was a joy to spend some time with the boys in the sun.

My Trash Can

Should I get a new one? (No, I don't know what happened to it.)

Warm , Furry, Cuddles

These are pictures of a baby squirrel that was adopted by a mommy dog.

Thanks, Sarah

Everybody Got To Go To The Vet Except Me

Life's not fair, Tom Tom. I know that you are miserable because you got left home alone, but trust me, you would not have enjoyed the trip to the vet. Well, maybe you would have enjoyed the trip, but not the destination. I know from experience how much you dislike the vet, not that he has ever done anything bad to you. That was another vet that took away your manhood.

I'm not exactly happy either. You know how rambunctious your two brothers are. Getting them in and out of the car and trying to control them in the vets office was not the highlight of my day. Kelsey barked the entire time and sat on the furniture. Murphy kept dragging me around the office. No other dogs behaved as poorly as mine. By the time I got out of there, I was $250 poorer and looked like a tornado hit me. It's embarrassing having such unbehaved kids, not that you ever act like that. It seems to me that the last time you went to the vet I had to carry you because you refused to walk.

I know that you're unhappy, but you'll get over it. Besides, can't you smell where your brothers were?

A 4 Billion Dollar Mistake

None of were happy about having a new medical administration record (MAR) forced upon us. But then, most people don't like change. I figured that eventually we would all adjust.

The new computerized system cost 4 billion dollars. That seems like a lot of money to fix something that wasn't broken, but I'm just a lowly nurse. What do I know?

With a system this complicated, there were bound to be problems. I figured that after a week or so, the bugs would be worked out of the system. Who knew that I was such an optimist?

It has been several weeks and it's hard to say who hates the system more, the pharmacists or the nurses. The pharmacists now spend their entire shift sitting in front of a computer transcribing doctor's orders. They keep getting so far behind that it is taking 4 to 6 hours to get the MAR's and meds delivered to the nurses. The MAR's are also filled with mistakes for virtually every patient. The nurses now spend a large part of their shift looking for and correcting mistakes, but still, mistakes are slipping through the cracks. Whoever designed the program didn't make it pharmacist friendly. It shouldn't be that hard to enter in data.

The nurses hate the new system because, besides all of the mistakes and delays, it is hard to read the MAR. The order in which the drugs are listed is stupid and the common or brand names for the drugs are rarely listed. If a patient has only routine orders, the MAR will be 8 pages long. If a patient is actually sick, the pages may double. And instead of just giving us what we need to know, there will be a paragraph or two of fluff that we have to sort through for each drug. I thought that with time my eyes would adjust and the words I was looking for would just jump out at me. But it's not happening, I have to read everything. It's wasting our time and mistakes are being made.

We would all love to declare the new system a failure and go back to the old system, but who wants to admit that they made a 4 billion dollar mistake? No one in charge does, so we're stuck with a system that doesn't work.

Victoria's Secret Panties

I don't really want to talk about what happened, but I was at work and I needed to change my panties. No, I'm not incontinent. Fortunately, at my job we have lots of panties. Just because it's silly, we call them Victoria's Secret panties. That's one of them in the picture.

They are unisex and one size fits all, sort of. I know that it's hard to believe, but that really is a pair of panties and not a dish towel. It's two pieces of stretchy, nylon netting sewn together on two sides with a small seam across the bottom to form a crotch. I took some scissors to mine and cut them almost up to the waist band on each side. That gave me the high-leg cut that I'm more accustomed to.

Once stretched out on a person, the netting is see through, so I will not be modeling it for you.

Another Piece In the Puzzle

The nurses in the unit with the mysterious ceiling devices are now wearing armbands. I guess that means I'm safe because I'm armband free.

The chosen nurses will be wearing these devices for 23 hours a day. Pretty strange, huh? Batteries will store data so the researchers, I'm guessing, will know things like when the nurses exercise, sleep or have sex.

I'm sure glad that I have my freedom. ( Although I might feel differently if the armbands were pink and sparkly.)

Am I Being Paranoid?

Like mushrooms, these things have suddenly popped out of the ceiling of another unit in the hospital. They are even in the patient's rooms. I just have one question. What the .... are they?

The official explanation is that they are being used to track nurses for a study. I would like to know if there are cameras inside. Do I dare bring a screwdriver to work and open one up to see what's inside? I can sneak in a screwdriver, but how do I sneak in a ladder?

Please Swallow It

The patient was NPO, meaning that she wasn't allowed anything by mouth. She wanted to know if it was okay to swallow her saliva. I told her that not only was it okay to swallow, but that we would prefer it.



In our medical administration record, the pharmacy adds notes for the nurses to remember when administering certain drugs to patients in the hospital. I saw an interesting one tonight. It said not to administer with alcohol. Huh? Do they think we're running a bar here?



There are some nurses who, whenever they chart their assessments on Caucasian patients, will write that the patient's skin is pale. This drives me crazy. Of course their skin is pale. They're white. What they should be looking at is the patient's mucous membranes to see if they are pale and therefore likely to be anemic. What they are charting by implication is that all white people look anemic and all people of color look like they have good blood counts. One of these days, I'm going to start crossing off "pale skin" every time I see it and writing next to it, Caucasian skin. Am I being too picky?



No other floor in the hospital had a private room available, so we got the patient that no one else wanted. Why did he need a private room? Was it because he was infectious? No. Was he a VIP? No. He was just stinky. So, why didn't they just wash him? They could have wheeled him out to the driveway and hosed him off. With a dose of versed he wouldn't have remembered a thing. Things would be different if I was in charge.

The Strangling Nurse

Some time back, I mentioned a nurse who shaked an aide. It turns out that I didn't have all of the facts. The nurse actually grabbed the aide by the throat and choking her, dragged her by the neck down a hallway. The aide was left with bruises around her neck which was documented by a physician. The nurses who witnessed the attack all signed statements describing the strangling.

So, what has become of this strangling nurse? After a brief stress leave, she is back at work. And, management has said that all of the witnesses ganged up on her by signing the statements. I wonder if this includes the doctor who documented the bruises? Was he also part of the gang? I'm so flabbergasted that I almost feel like I've been dropped in a parallel universe.

Management should really talk to a lawyer about the potential liability issues here. I'm staying out of this, but the hospital's very deep pockets would be wide open if this nurse ever attacks again. Just plain old common sense would dictate that you don't keep stranglers on the job. (I guess that the strangler nurse's long time butt kissing efforts paid off in the end.)

Terminally Cleaned Room

We had just discharged a patient who had MRSA, VRE and C Dif. All of these are highly infectious organisms, two of which are virtually incurable. The housekeeper was told to terminally clean the room, a term that none us had ever heard before.

Curious, I sat outside the room and watched it being cleaned. It looked like a routine cleaning to me. As usual, the telephone, TV remote and call light were not cleaned. What was different was that the linens were dumped in the trash.

What's odd is this patient had been here for several weeks with her raging infections and every time her sheets were changed, they were put in with the rest of the dirty laundry. That's our policy. We're not in the habit of burning or burying dirty sheets. So, who's crazy here? Why do we put dirty sheets in the laundry when the patient is still here, but throw them out once the patient is discharged?

The grossest part for me was when I had to give her my pen to sign her discharge papers. When she handed it back to me, it was covered with tiny bits of flaky, dry skin from her whole body rash. I washed my pen, but it still feels dirty. And now my hands feel dirty and everything my hands have touched feel dirty and...Is this how OCD starts?

The next occupant of the room was a doctor who, of course, had to have a private room. If he only knew.

This is a lesson to everyone. Don't ever request a private room in a hospital. They are usually used for isolation patients and the room cleaning between patients is less than ideal. Request a ward. That's where the clean patients are kept.

A Quiet Code Blue

At the beginning of the shift, we were in the middle of getting report when a nurse could be heard faintly in one of the rooms yelling for a code blue. Within seconds, the overhead speakers were announcing a code blue on our floor. I rushed into the room and put my hand on the patient's chest, her breathing was unlabored. Her pulse was good too. The nurse said that she couldn't wake her up.

I asked if we could cancel the code blue and everyone agreed that would be okay, so the code was cancelled. We wanted to cancel it because they are such a pain. Usually about 50 people will show up for a code and most of them are just lookey-loos who get in the way and then there is a ridiculous amount of paperwork that follows. Her condition wasn't so critical that we couldn't have a quiet code. A quiet code is just calling on the phone the people that you need without overhead declaring a code. It avoids a lot of hassle.

The patient had just come back from surgery, had received pain killers and we figured that she had just been overdosed. It happens frequently. I prepared a dose of the antidote and pushed it directly into her IV line. Usually the patient wakes up within seconds, but not this time. She just laid there with her eyes rolled back.

The anesthesiologist was called and asked to come immediately. The oxygen content in the patient's blood began to drop. An oxygen mask was placed on her face and the oxygen was turned all of the way up. The oxygen level continued to drop and the patient was starting to gurgle and foam at the mouth. We knew she was in big trouble at that point.

The anesthesiologist arrived and intubated her. While she was being bagged, he started making phone calls. Several doctors arrived and they began discussing what to do. It was thought most likely that she had suffered a major stroke, so she was transferred to ICU and tests were done.

Later, we checked to see how the patient was doing and she was fine. It turned out that she did have a drug overdose. I gave the amount of antidote allowed by protocol, but it just wasn't enough to counter-act the huge dose of morphine that she had received. I'm glad that it turned out that she was just another drug overdose. That we can fix.

Will That Be Cash, Check Or Charge?

At work, I clicked on the computer screen to look up some lab results and this paragraph greeted me:

DON'T FORGET TO ESTABLISH YOUR "COLLECTION CONNECTION"... EYE CONTACT, SMILE, ADDRESS YOUR PATIENT BY NAME AND OFFER OPTIONS SUCH AS CASH, CHECK OR CHARGE! REMEMBER...EVERY PATIENT HAS THE RIGHT TO PAY FOR THEIR SEVICES AND YOU HAVE THE POWER AND ACCOUNTABILITY TO HELP THEM DO SO WITH CONFIDENCE AND COMPASSION."

Every patient has the right to pay? Oh yeah, we have patients all day long demanding the right to pay their hospital bill. We have to fight the patients off with a stick while they plead to let us pay their bill. Of course when people fall and break their hip, the first they do before calling the paramedics is to get together cash, checks or credit cards so that they can exercise their right to pay the bill.

It sounds like they're asking nurses to be cashiers or bill collectors. Whoever wrote this does not know what nurses do. I've never discussed money with a patient and I never will.

There are some people whose job it is to visit every patient each day and collect their copay. Some people are frightened by this. They don't have access to money while in the hospital and yet they're being asked to pay. Some people are afraid that we may dump then on the sidewalk if they don't come up with the money and so they start begging family members to pay for them. It's all quite sad and the nurses spend a lot of time trying to calm people down. Other people feel that since they're paying such a large copay that they want to get their money's worth and begin acting like they're staying at the Hyatt, although I'm pretty sure that the Hyatt doesn't do bedpans.

Three Dumb Things That I Did Yesterday

1) I trimmed my bangs while I was in a hurry. One side turned out too short. I could trim the other side to match, but then both sides would be too short. My bangs are going to be lopsided for awhile.

2) I forgot to watch Desperate Housewives.

3) I nearly set the house on fire. I got up to go in the kitchen and laid the newspaper on top of some burning candles. I got distracted by the computer and didn't come out again for nearly an hour. The paper, for whatever reason, never caught fire.

I shouldn't be allowed near scissors or fire.

Don't Shop When Full

They say never to shop when hungry. I think that it's just as important not to shop when full. At least if I had done my Costco run on an empty stomach, I might actually have some food to eat this week. Everything I saw while shopping with a tummy full of pizza, beer and ice cream, nauseated me.

So, I got chicken and hamburger for the dogs, pomegranites, some sort of squash and pretty pink slippers. My feet will be warm and pretty(Sorry, Dave, the slippers didn't come with lights), the dogs will be well fed and I'll be eating pomegranites and maybe squash all this week. I think that I need to go back to the store.

If I Eat These Will I Die?

These little squash things were so cute that I couldn't resist buying them. I got a whole big bag of them at Costco for about $5. The only problem is, I don't know if they're ornamental gourds or edible pumpkins. It would be okay to just use them for decorating, as I've done below, but I would like to eat them too. Do I dare have my squash and eat it too?

The Good Husband

I just got back from the grocery store and behind me in line was a man in his pajamas. He was carrying a half-gallon of ice cream and two packages of chocolate ice cream bars. As I left the checkstand with my groceries, lettuce and ice cream, I heard him say to the checker, "The wife made me get out of bed for ice cream." What a relief. I was a little nervous about shopping so late anyway and standing in line next to a man dressed for bed didn't help matters any. What a pleasure it is to see a well-trained husband.

Kentucky Wedding Photos

I'm sorry. I know that it is tacky and in poor taste to make fun of others, so I will keep my comments to myself. Besides, the photos speak for themselves.


(Thanks, Sarah)

Fear Of Buttons

In order to get inside the parking lot at work, it is necessary to hit a button and take a ticket. This afternoon, I was stuck behind a young man who just sat there in his idling car. Sometimes that happens with older folks, but this guy was too young not to understand the concept. Just about the time that I was ready to get out of my car and help him, he reached out his window with a piece of paper. With the paper he hit the button and pulled out a ticket. The gate lifted and he drove in. Poor guy. My guess is that he has OCD or phobia problem and was afraid of the germs on the button. I bet that he's not a nurse. He would get over that germ fear really fast if he had to face his fears on a daily basis. Either that, or he would run screaming from the building, never to return.

I'm not making fun of him. I have my own issues when it comes to irrational fears. We all have our challenges. I have a patient right now who is facing the challenge of going through life without legs, no vision and non-functioning kidneys (diabetes is not easy to die from). And other people face the challenge of going through life facing the terror of having to press a button. Does anyone find life to be easy?

When Food Hits The Fan

I was walking out of the patient's room carrying a half-eaten dinner tray. An oscillating fan on high blew across my path, knocking the lighter items off the tray and against me. I ended up with red jello, grape juice and salad dressing across my chest. And people wonder why nurses no longer wear white uniforms. The stains were hardly noticeable on my garish, tacky print top.

On the narcotic sheet, someone wrote down the date as 5/20. Everyone else who signed out narcs after that also wrote down the date as 5/20, including me. I know what my problem is, but what was wrong with everyone else? They're not blondes.

A phone rang and the patient picked it up. He listened without saying anything and hung up. The phone rang again, he put the phone to his ear and listened. I told him to say hello. He said hello and was pleased to have the person answer back. All it took to start a conversation was to say hello. I sometimes forget what I'm supposed to say when I answer a phone, but I remember that I'm supposed to say something. He is just one step further down that road of mental confusion. The next step after that is to hear a ringing and not know what is making that sound or what to do about it, kind of like me and my alarm clock.

Pushing My Buttons

We have a devout Jewish patient staying with us. It's a bit of a challenge to take care of him because there are so many times when he can't use anything electronic. I understood about Yom Kippur, Rosh Hahanah and the Sabbath, but this week there was some kind of mystery holiday that also had the electronic restrictions. I can't find this holiday on my calendar and none of my Jewish friends have a clue either.

During these special times, since he can't use his call light, he expects us to check on him every 30 minutes around the clock to see if he needs anything. We really can't do that, so a rabbi was found to tell him that God wants him to use his call light. He wasn't convinced. So now he has family staying with him and they come out and tell us if he needs anything.

He can't turn the lights on or off or use his bed controls, but he can ask us to do it for him. This puzzles me. I'm not sure that I see the distinction between his pushing a button and us doing it because he asked us to. Maybe when it comes to matters of faith my form of logic doesn't apply, but I just don't understand and I would like to. Why is it okay to tell someone to do something for you, but not okay to do it yourself? Lawyers would call this a distinction without a difference. What am I missing?

Food, not unexpectedly, has also been an issue. We have Kosher food for him, but he doesn't like it. This I understand. I've eaten some of his leftovers and it is bad. It's like a very bland, salty, greasy TV dinner. So, his family has been bringing food from home. This is fine, but they're not happy about storing it in the refridgerator with everyone else's non-Kosher food. They decided that if their food was wrapped in two plastic bags it would be okay, but now they have their own ice chest. They're not happy about using our non-Kosher microwave, but they are able to get by with the two plastic bag trick. Of course we push the microwave buttons for them when they can't use electronics. (I gave him some medicine made from a pig and didn't tell him. Was that a bad thing to do?)

At their special times, they also can't use the phone, so we have to make calls for them and deliver messages. The person on the other end can't pick up the phone, but listens to the messages we leave on the answering machine. They also can't drive during the holidays, but somehow they get here. They live about 10 miles away. I assume that they ask someone to drive them. Can anyone explain?

TB In The Air And Sound-A-likes

We have a patient with possible TB. In each unit we have a special room for TB patients that has negative pressure. This prevents the TB infected air from being sucked into the ventilation system and circulated throughout the hospital. The only problem is that our negative pressure room is broken. Does that stop them from putting a rule-out TB patient in that room? No. Does anyone care that we and everyone else in the building is breathing air that may be contaminated with TB? No.

A nurse gave morphine to a patient who is allergic to morphine. The doctor ordered it and the nurse failed to catch the mistake. So, when the patient started to swell up and become itchy, she called the doctor. The doctor ordered Zestril, a blood pressure medication. Without questioning it, that's what the nurse gave.

Another nurse intervened at this point and not believing that the doctor intended to give a blood pressure pill for an allergic reaction, called the doctor herself. The doctor was livid and said that he had ordered vistaril, an antihistamine. Vistaril and Zestril both end in an ril, but do such different things. It's kind of scary that a nurse would blindly follow a doctor's orders no matter how silly or dangerous they were.

Besides ordering medications that patients are allergic to, doctors also do silly things like ordering the wrong drug, such as Tylenol for constipation or stool softeners for fever. My personal favorite is the doctors who check the box that they want the patient's arm suspended from an IV pole when the patient has had surgery on their leg. We can't just do things because the doctor ordered it. It's a wonder that patients leave the hospital alive.

Words Women Use

FINE :

This is the word women use to end an argument when they are right and you need to shut up.

FIVE MINUTES:

If she is getting dressed, this is half an hour. Five minutes is only five minutes if you have just been given 5 more minutes to watch the game before helping around the house.

NOTHING:

This is the calm before the storm. This means "something," and you should be on your toes. Arguments that begin with 'Nothing' usually end in.

FINE, GO AHEAD:

This is a dare, not permission. Don't do it.

LOUD SIGH:

This is not actually a word, but is a nonverbal statement often misunderstood by men. A "Loud Sigh" means she thinks you are an idiot and wonders why she is wasting her time standing here and arguing with you over "Nothing."

THAT'S OKAY:

This is one of the most dangerous statements that a woman can make to a man. "That's Okay" means that she wants to think long and hard before deciding how and when you will pay for your mistake.

THANKS:

A woman is thanking you. Do not question it or faint. Just say you're welcome.

Oh, and before we forget,

"WHATEVER":

....it's a woman's way of saying *!#@ YOU!

Fashion Victim

Sarah and I had another one of our "ladies who lunch" days. It's really cold and wet for this time of the year. It's strange to be wearing jackets and knit scarves. Chinese chicken salads and cold drinks were probably not the best food choice today. We were freezing after lunch.

Of course after lunch, we had to do some shopping. We walked through the mall and came across a woman wearing tight shorts with, what it appeared to be, 4 inch heels. (Sorry about the blurry picture, I was trying to be discreet and turned off the flash.) A big umbrella completed
her outfit.


She was younger, taller, thinner and more glamorous than us, but I think that we were a tad more comfortable in our sloppy clothes and comfortable shoes. I doubt that I could even stand in those shoes, much less walk around a mall.

I no longer keep current with the latest fashions. I'm not sure if she is just a victim to the latest fashion or if she was being creative in coming up with her outfit. Has anyone else seen women walking around with shorts and high heels?

Don't Be Late

It was raining hard on the way to work. This was my view of the freeway. The charge nurse didn't allow enough time for driving under these conditions so she was late. I had no choice but to make the patient assignments. I gave her a much heavier load than she was accustomed to, which provided me with plenty of amusement watching her run around in circles. I could justify my actions by saying that I want her to stay in practice and not lose her nursing skills, but really, I'm just evil. I bet she's never late again.





Have I ever mentioned that I'm clumsy? Tonight I dropped a bowl of tomato soup on the carpet. I bet the stain never comes out. My shoes and pant legs also got splattered.





Tonight, an elderly patient needed his diaper changed. As I started to remove it, he slapped my hand and said, "No, don't pull my pants down." I called for reinforcements and we got him changed. Afterwards, he held my hand, looked into my eyes and said, "Why did you roll me over and do that to me?" I guess that he forgave me, though, later he told the aide to tell that blonde nurse that he owes me two payments. ( No, I don't know what that means.)

I also had to help a man in the bathroom. He was so big that his hands could no longer reach his bottom. I had to do the wiping for him. That is a common problem. I wonder what they do at home? A lot of people with that problem live alone.

The End Is Near

My poor dogs think that the world is coming to an end. My cover dog, who is bigger than I am, is under my computer table trembling violently and panting. I'm having to type with one finger, so that I can pet him. My other two dogs are huddled next to me and Tommy is crying. Dogs off in the distance are barking.

Around 1 am we went through the same thing, only with 3 shaking dogs in bed. At 4 am, it happened again. What a rough night it was.

I actually like thunderstorms. It's too bad that they scare my dogs so much. I wonder if I called work and explained that I needed to stay home to comfort my dogs if they would understand. Probably not. They probably wouldn't understand if I said that I needed to get some sleep either. I guess I'm going to work. I hope nothing happens that requires me to be alert and oriented tonight.

Freeway Accident Lottery

Yesterday, on the way to work, I found myself at a disaster scene before I arrived at work. Up ahead, a car was consumed in flames. Firetrucks were off in the distance stuck in traffic like everyone else.

LAPD officers were on the scene helping the victims. One man was lying in the freeway lane with an officer kneeling next to him. I'm guessing it was neck or back injuries. There was no obvious blood, he was conscious and breathing fine, but they apparently didn't want to move him out of the lane.

Several other cars were involved in the accident and the occupants were standing or sitting by the side of the freeway watching the car burn. That's all anybody could do.

Life is uncertain. Usually people arrive at their destination safely, but sometimes they end up lying in the road watching their car burn. No one knows who's next in the freeway accident lottery.

This Makes Up For A Lot

Last night, I had two apples for dinner. Tonight I had this. It's always feast or famine around here. My tongue hurts from eating so much candy. But what choice do I have? It disappears so quickly that I have to eat it while it's still there.

A nurse was giving report on a patient with a minor injury and she mentioned that the patient wanted to die. I must have looked shocked because she quickly added that he was okay now, he had a large BM. Huh? Is that all it takes to get back the will to live? I was thinking that we needed to get a psyche consult. Silly me. Going to the bathroom solved all of his problems.

Tonight an elderly patient kept chanting Mama. After a couple of hours of that we decided that we had had enough. We began flipping through manuals to try and figure out the fastest way we could deliver a dose of haldol without violating our policies. A supervisor wandered by and I mentioned that we were not going to listen to that all night. She laughed and said,"So, you're going to drug her?" I said, "exactly."She understood. Good old haldol, a nurse's best friend. (Who says that we don't do chemical restraints?)


A patient wanted his blinds closed, but he said that I should go find a big man to help me because in the morning when the blinds were opened, the big male nurse had fought and struggled hard to open them. I wasn't strong enough. I simply smiled, walked over to the blinds and gently pulled on the string. The blinds closed smoothly without effort. Smugly, I left the room. Skill over brute strength won. The big strong man didn't know which string to pull.

What's That Buzzing Sound?

Last night I climbed into bed and heard an annoying buzzing sound off in the distance. I thought perhaps a pond pump was acting up again or maybe it was the neighbor's pool filter. I closed the window, but that didn't help muffle the noise. It was too late to do anything about the noise, so I just did my best to sleep.

I did okay until 4 am when I woke up. The buzzing was driving me crazy. It just felt like that sound was right next to my ear, then I realized that the sound was right next to my ear. It was my alarm clock. Fumbling with it in the dark, pressing buttons and moving switches at random, it suddenly went silent. Do I ever feel blonde.

Human Breasts In Costco

Walking around a corner in Costco yesterday, I encountered an attractive young lady pulling her tank top down and exposing a breast. Her husband handed her a baby and she began nursing. It seemed odd to see a breast used for its intended purpose.

Later, when I was checking out, she came over to ask the checker a question. Her large breasts were barely contained by the low cut top. The checker and helper, both red-blooded males, stopped what they were doing and focused all of their attention on her. It wasn't until she turned and walked away that they finally resumed working on my order. It was hard not to laugh.

Somehow, I don't think that breast fed babies were on their mind when they ogled her swollen, engorged breasts. But then, how do I know what they were thinking? Maybe rather than lusting after her, they were thinking about a healthy baby being well fed. I shouldn't be so quick to judge.

Cat Tuna For Dinner?

How did things go so horribly wrong? This is Saturday, our night to order food out. Anticipating a large dinner, I only had tea, soymilk, berries and broccoli before going to work.

We ordered Thai food for dinner and by the time it arrived, I was starving. There was just one thing standing between me and a plate of rice noodles. My dinner didn't arrive. I heard it being ordered, pad thai with tofu, but it wasn't delivered.

The restaurant refused to bring it (their menu is now in little paper bits in the trash can), the cafeteria was closed and I was too busy to leave to go get something. My only choice was to eat patient left-overs or go hungry. I found a tuna sandwich and took a bite of it. It tasted like cat food and the bread was wet. No way I was going to eat that. The only other food all involved instant mashed potatoes, canned gravy and processed meat. Eating that was out of the question too.

I had two apples with me and so that was my dinner. And people wonder how I stay so thin.

The Kind Lawyer

One afternoon, a wealthy lawyer was riding in his shiny
limousine when he saw two men along the roadside eating
grass. Disturbed, he ordered his driver to stop and he got
out to investigate the situation.

He asked one man, "Why are you eating grass?"

"We don't have any money for food," the poor man replied.
"We HAVE TO eat grass."

Shocked, the lawyer said, "Well, then, you can come with me
to my house and I'll feed you!"

"But sir, I have a wife and two children with me. They are
over there, under that tree."

"Bring them along," the lawyer replied.

Turning to the other poor man, he said, "You come with us, too."

The second man said, "But sir, I also have a wife and SIX
children with me!"

"Bring them all!" the lawyer answered and they all jammed
into the huge limo.
Once underway, one of the poor fellows turned to the lawyer
and said, "Sir, you are too kind. Thank you for taking all of us
with you."

Genuinely touched, the lawyer replied, "Glad to do it!
You'll really love my place...the grass is almost a foot high!"

Feeling Like A Whore

I really hate going to the doctor, especially when I'm perfectly healthy. But, I had no choice. I was almost out of Retin-A and the only way to get more was to see the doctor. I'm fighting this aging thing tooth and nail and I need Retin-A to fight wrinkles.

So, to get my med, I had to take my clothes off and let the doctor touch me. I felt like a whore, trading my body for drugs. I gave him what he wanted and he gave me what I wanted. Now, I have enough refills to last me another year.

I'm still new to my HMO. I'm accustomed to having a family doctor who would take the time to talk to me and make me feel like he cared about me. My visit today was very fast and efficient. My appointment was at 11:20 and by 11:45, I was back in my car. During that time I registered at the front, saw the nurse, changed into a gown, saw the doctor, changed back into my clothes, dropped my prescription off at the pharmacy, registered at the lab, got blood drawn, changed into a gown, had a chest X ray, waited for the results, got dressed, took the X ray to my doctor and picked up my prescription. It felt like an assembly line. I can't really complain about the care, but it just felt so impersonal.

I want medicine to be the way it was in the old days. I want a doctor who remembers me, knows my parents and family history. I want a doctor who is not surprised to learn that I am not menopausal. I want a doctor who doesn't just chatter on about how perfectly healthy I am, without asking if I have any concerns. Most of all, I miss my old family doctor who would sit down, look me in the eyes and take 20 minutes to talk with me. HMO's suck.

Viagra and A Cold Shower

With his wife and daughter present, the patient asked me to bring him some viagra. I looked at him blankly, trying to figure out if he was some kind of pervert or was just trying to be funny. Suddenly, his wife started laughing and said that he meant vicodin. What a relief to find out that he was only in pain and not looking for sex.

Walking by a bedside table tonight, I accidently knocked a picture of ice water on top of a patient. (I can't tell you how many times I have done that.) He was soaked from his waist to his toes and covered in crushed ice. No, it wasn't the viagra patient. This one didn't need cooling down, not that the other one did either, it turns out.

Shooting Up In The Bathroom

I sneaked a vial out of the drug fridge. Checking over my shoulder to make sure that no one was watching, I withdrew a tiny bit of the drug into a syringe. Casually, I placed the syringe in my pocket and went into the bathroom. Locking the door, I pulled up my top and pushed my waist band down. Quickly, I stabbed the needle into my tummy. In an instant it was over and I got my fix. I should be good for the next year. (It was just a flu shot.)

Stick It Where It Hurts

Someone came around work carrying a basket filled with syringes. Flu shot time. After seeing the ridiculously huge needles they were using(Gauge 18), I declined. But I still want a shot.

Later, I'll sneak a dose from the drug fridge and shoot myself up. Only, I'll use a much smaller needle, smaller dose and put it barely beneath the skin into my tummy fat. It will work just as well with less pain. (Nurses make the worst patients.)

Is that stealing?

Pea In The Sink

All of the patients have a sink right next to their beds, so it's not unusual for patients to dump their urine bottles or bedpans in the sink. (Patients can be such disgusting creatures.) This time I found a different kind of pea in the sink.

Yom Kippur Miracle

At 5 pm, the patient used his call light to let me know that he needed his dinner tray in the next few minutes because the Yom Kippur fast was to start at precisely 6 pm. Of course he needed something complicated, a kosher renal diet. It's not like we have those just lying around. I don't know why he didn't let us know earlier. I guess that it wasn't until the sun was starting to set that suddenly he realized that he was about to lose his last chance to eat for 24 hours.

Getting dietary to send up a tray is not a simple matter. First of all, with the trays being delivered at 6 pm, dietary is a mad house at 5 pm with them busy assembling trays. It is rare for them to answer their phone at any time, much less during the busy dinner rush. It seemed hopeless, but a miracle occurred. Someone in dietary answered the phone. After some arguing, she agreed to send up the tray and even more amazing, the tray actually arrived as promised. There must have been divine intervention. This is not the way things normally operate.

The dinner wasn't anything fancy, just a frozen kosher TV dinner. I cooked it and gave it to the patient at 5:15. He was most appreciative and asked God several times to bless me. (I'm not sure that it's a good idea for someone as sick as he is to fast, but who am I to judge? Someone up there apparently wanted him to have that last meal.)

Butterfingers

It could have been worse. At least it's not a picture of a dropped bedpan. (I've done that too.)

Just Too Cute

They're so cute, I want one. Do you think that they would make good pets?

Thanks, Sarah.

On Second Thought...

A few months ago this sleek, glossy sign appeared next to the elevators.

Yesterday, this paper sign appeared next to the stairs. There must have been an oops.

DROP IT! NOW!

Walking by a patient's room, I noticed that he was cutting through his IV line with a dinner knife. Calmly, I asked him to stop. He looked at me and started sawing faster. One of his lines was a central line, meaning that the line snaked through his veins to his heart. Cutting that line would not be a good thing to do.

When reasoning failed, I yelled at the top of my lungs, "Drop it ! Now! I approached him and he pointed the knife at me and threatened to stab me. I left the room to gather some supplies and asked a coworker to come help me.

We came back into the room and stood on opposite sides of the bed. Suddenly, I lunged at him. I had his knife hand in both of mine. My coworker grabbed his free hand. After some struggling, I was able to squeeze the knife out of his hand. As soon as I had the knife, I violently threw it across the room. I'm not sure why I did that, but it felt good.

We began tying him up. It wasn't easy. He was a fighter and broke the first set of restraints. Someone ran to another unit to borrow another set while we held him down. Of course, in the end we won. We always do.

He was calling us and especially me, every nasty name he could think of. Even though he was not in his right mind, it still bothers me when I'm called those kind of names. I don't know how psyche nurses can stand that on a daily basis.

Then he started yelling as loud as he could, for someone to call the police. He was also shrieking things like, "there is a blonde bitch in her with murder in her eyes and she's going to kill me." He was probably right about the look in my eyes, but wrong that I was going to kill him. I only wanted to kill him. Everyone on the floor had to listen to him screaming for help for about 15 minutes until the "cocktail"I slipped into his IV line took effect. After that, he was no trouble at all.

Drive Like A Bird

This bridge is located in southern France, and is the highest bridge in the world. The red towers in the photo were removed following completion of the bridge.

Sometimes heights bother me, most of the time they don't. I can't predict in advance if heights are going to affect me . I would hate to get half-way across on this bridge and then find out that the height was a problem for me.

Well, it looks like there's still an alternate route on the ground. Slow, but less stressful. (Not that I'm going to France anytime soon.)

PMS

Ahhhh....the many faces of PMS.

1. P ass M y S hotgun

2.P sychotic M ood S hift

3.P erpetual M unching S pree

4.P uffy M id-S ection

5.P eople M ake me S ick

6.P rovide M e with S weets

7.P ardon M y S obbing

8P imples M ay S urface

9.P ass M y S weatpants

10.P issy M ood S yndrome

11.P lainly; M en S uck

12.P ack M y S tuff . and my favorite one..

13.P otential M urder S uspect, And as an example:


Q: How many women with PMS does it take to change a light bulb?

A: One!!! ONLY ONE!!!! And do you know WHY? Because no one else in this house knows HOW to change a light bulb! They don't even know that the bulb is BURNED OUT!! They'd sit there in the dark for THREE DAYS before they figured it out!! And, once they figured it out, they wouldn't be able to find the light bulbs despite the fact they've been in the SAME CUPBOARD for the past 13 YEARS! But if they did, by some miracle of God, actually find the bulbs 2 DAYS LATER, the chair they dragged to stand on to change the STUPID light bulb would STILL BE IN THE SAME SPOT!!!!! AND UNDERNEATH IT WOULD BE THE WRAPPER THE STUPID LIGHT BULBS CAME IN!!! BECAUSE NO ONE EVER CARRIES OUT THE GARBAGE!!!! IT'S A WONDER WE HAVEN'T ALL SUFFOCATED FROM THE PILES OF GARBAGE THAT ARE A FOOT DEEP THROUGHOUT THE ENTIRE HOUSE!! IT WOULD TAKE AN ARMY TO CLEAN THIS HOUSE! I'm sorry. What was your question?

(Thanks, Sarah. How did you know how I was feeling?)

A Scratched Buttocks, Col. Sanders And A Ship

The patient was missing a little piece of skin from her buttocks and we were trying to decide what happened. One nurse thought it might be a pressure ulcer. I thought that it was just a scratch. The patient indignantly replied, "I did not scratch my butt." Gently, it was explained that it could have happened many ways, such as from the bedpan or from a nurse's nails helping her with the bedpan. Most likely, though, she scratched herself on the butt. A large number of our patients have scratches there.

One of my patients had elective surgery and suffered a major stroke afterwards. She now has severe dementia. She spent the evening chanting, "Come here, Colonel Sanders. Come here." Before the surgery she was fine except for a worn out knee. Now, she's going to be chanting nonsense for the rest of her life. (If that ever happens to me, please kill me.)

We had another patient who kept asking, "When is the ship coming?" A lot of confused patients ask questions like that. Sometimes they're waiting for a bus or a plane, but they often think that some form of transportation is going to come for them. I once stopped a patient who was walking down the hallway carrying his suitcase. He was stark naked. I asked him where he was going and he answered, the airport. I told him that his flight was delayed and put him back to bed to wait for his plane.

The saddest patient of all tonight was a relatively young man with hepatitis C who most likely has liver cancer. He does not know yet. He has a large family for whom he is the sole support. The doctor's notes said that his prognosis is grim and that he's not a candidate for a liver transplant. My stomach is in knots. I wish that he had been put on a different floor because it's just too depressing to take care of young sick people who are only going to get sicker. I prefer my crazy, old orthopedic patients.

Resourceful Retrievers

This is a picture of one of my Goldens cooking dinner. (I wish)





Thanks, Sarah

Chewable Liver Flavored Supplements

I used up the last of my glucosamine, so I looked to see if I had an extra bottle lying around. (I tend to stockpile stuff.) No big surprise, I did find an extra bottle.

I wasn't wearing my glasses, but I could see that the label had something to do with arthritis. I started to remove the lid when I noticed a dog like creature on the label. Something didn't seem right. I put on my glasses and saw that it was dog glucosamine.

I had forgotten all about it. Despite containing beef liver for flavor, Murphy wouldn't touch it. I suppose I could take it, but I hate liver even more than Murph does.

Cover Dog

This is my cover dog, Murphy, being amorous with Sarah. She has that affect on men. Notice the toys scattered all over the carpet? It looks like preschoolers live in my house.

Murphy is 9 years old. He likes to help me when I work in the garden. See how he's dripping wet and standing in freshly turned dirt? Let's see, what does water and dirt make? Well, whatever it's called, it's all over my house.
This is Murphy when he was 9 months old. On a hot day, I see no reason to not soak in cool water together. Actually it was nice of him to share with me. It was his pool. (I appear to be naked, but I think that the odds are good I was wearing something. ) Now he has a fish pond which he much prefers. It's stinkier.

How Could I Resist?

Thanks, Sarah. (Why is it that if I get cute pet photos, it comes from Sarah, but if it's something racy, it comes from Dave?)