Telephone, Elevator and Kissing Problems

Our secretary told me to pick up the phone so I did. On the line was a doctor who wanted to know if I was a certain patient's nurse. I said no and would she like to speak to her? She responded my ranting and raving about how that was what she had been trying to do for the last 10 minutes. Geez! All I did was pick up the phone. She obviously was frustrated, but that's not a mature way to handle it.

I didn't listen to her for very long. In mid-rant, I simply hit the hold button and got the correct nurse for her. I guess she feels that because she's a doctor, she can behave however badly she feels. What's sad is that she's right.

A patient arrived on our floor after surgery in agony. I needed to start a PCA (patient controlled anesthesia) pump. Because all of our pumps are stored in the basement, that's where I had to go to get one. I work on the eighth floor.

It was a long wait for the elevator and when it finally came, it stopped at every floor on the way down. I grabbed the pump and eventually made my way back to my floor. Opening the pump, I discovered that a part was missing. I had to go back to the basement and get a new one.

My journey on the slow boat to China was repeated with one twist. I was one floor away from the end of my journey when the elevator began beeping and suddenly dropped several floors. I was not happy.

The elevator door opened on the fourth floor and there was no one waiting. Someone had turned a special key to capture the elevator and then left. I yelled out to no one in particular, "Did someone capture this elevator?"No one took responsibility so I turned the key back and finally made it back to my floor. Thirty minutes elapsed during my adventure. That's sure a long time for someone to be in agony. If we could only store some equipment on our floor, this never would have happened.

My favorite patient grabbed my hand and started kissing it again. He traveled up my arm like Gomez did to Morticia on the Addams Family. Then deciding that both of my hands were like ice, he pressed both of my hands against his mouth and smacked his lips like a little kissing machine.

The evening wasn't all bad. For dinner I had a Camembert sandwich (my favorite) and baklava for dessert. Just so that I don't develop Dave's "problem," I also ate a large apple.