Bad Words

Profanity is rarely heard at work. That has been changing rapidly this week. The adjustment to the new hospital is not going well and people are starting to use colorful language to express their frustration. Pictured in the photo are the "little shits" aka pocket pagers. They are in the box and not in our pockets because we are sick of the little shits. I don't know if it's us or them, but they are not working properly.

They go off at random times and sound like whoopee cushions. I don't know about you, but I don't want to carry something in my pocket that makes farting sounds.

We can't call each other on the phone because only one of the twelve phones in my unit can receive calls. Normally, there are three or four Verizon vans parked out front of the hospital every day, but I guess they don't work weekends.

We have gone back to hollering each other's names to find each other. It's not classy, but it works.

Our Pyxis machine is confused. It is treating the narcotics like over-the-counter drugs and over-the-counter drugs like narcotics. It makes us count how many iron tablets are in the drawer (179 at last count) each time we take one, but it just lets us take as much morphine as we want without us verifying the count. This is a golden window of opportunity for drug thieves. Missing narcotics would eventually be noticed, but so much time would elapse before then that it couldn't be blamed on any individual.

Nurses are calling in sick in large numbers. I can't imagine why.