It's Christmas Time Already?

Costco made me tear up and that's not easy to do. I don't cry easily. What happened is that on a hundred degree day, as I walked past the Halloween decorations with the shrieking witches and haunted house music, I heard Christmas carols. Looking past the Halloween decorations, I saw Christmas trees. And there was Christmas music.

It is only September. It was enough to make a grown woman cry.

Rock Star

An honest-to gosh rock star has been staying in our hospital. Okay, he's no Mick Jagger. If I could tell you his name, it's doubtful that you have heard of him. It's unlikely you have even heard of his sub-type of dark, heavy metal music. But, he makes his living as a rock star. As proof, he showed me a magazine article featuring him. I also did an Internet search. He is who he says he is and actually has a loyal following.

Rock Star got sick while touring in Europe and was flown back to our hospital for treatment. That, in itself is really odd. Doesn't he know that celebrities go to Cedars or UCLA? HMO's like us, are for ordinary people. But he is a nice guy. Despite the tattoos and stringy long hair, he is handsome, well-mannered and even has a college degree.

The problem is that he is high as a kite and we are keeping him that way. He may be bright, it's hard to tell, but everyday that I visit him, he introduces himself as if we had never met before. Usually, people remember me, but I'm not taking it personally. Although wide awake and wired, Rock Star's eyes are glassy and he is totally focused on getting another hit.

We have had patients with high drug tolerances, but he is a record holder when it comes to drug dosages. I would die, if given his dose. You would probably die too. We could split his dose between us and still die of an overdose.

This is what he gets:

Dilaudid 134 milligrams by mouth every three hours PLUS
dilaudid 2 milligrams pushed into his IV line every hour.

The usual dose for severe pain is 4 milligrams of dilaudid by mouth every three hours or, one or two milligrams in the IV line every two hours. The first time I saw someone preparing his medication, I was sure she had made a terrible mistake. No one takes 33 and a half tablets of pain medication. She had to be off by a decimal point. (The last time a nurse was off by a decimal point, the patient spent some time in ICU on a vent.) But, 33 and a half tablets was what he needed to just barely get by.

Despite the high doses, Rock Star constantly complains that he is under-medicated. He was especially angry at one nurse who, instead of pushing the concentrated drug in his IV line, mixed it with a bag of IV fluid and infused it over fifteen minutes. That robbed him of the rush. If he really just needed pain relief, the slower infusion would have done the trick. Rock Star was sure that the nurse was just doing that to spite him.

Rock Star needs to get back on tour. We'll probably send him on his way with a big bag of pills, but he won't be getting any IV pain meds. That part is non-negotiable. We have another patient who is also addicted to dilaudid. He refuses to leave unless the doctor gives him X number of pills. It is worth it to us to give them what they want so that they will leave. It is odd that we have to negotiate with drug addicts who are holding our rooms as hostage. If I were in charge, I would have security escort them to the door and leave them by the curb. Perhaps that is why I'm not in charge.

A Train Wreck

I don't know about other areas of the country, but the train crash in Chatsworth is a big story here. We treated some of the victims in our hospital and everyday, the front page of the local newspapers has some news of the crash.

A not very reliable source at work told me that one of our nurses was killed in the crash. I tried to independently verify the information. As the days went by, the Times kept adding the names of victims, but the nurse was never mentioned. I decided that the rumor was false.

Coming to work today, I noticed that the flags were flying at half-staff. After considering the possibilities, it seemed most likely that we did lose a coworker. I checked my E-mail and found the notice of her death. It was official.

I didn't know her, but I knew of her. I knew her name and what she did at the hospital. Her job was to get involved whenever the hospital made a terrible mistake and do whatever it took to make amends in order to avoid a lawsuit.

She was the peacemaker, although her official title was hospital ombudsman. It must have been a difficult job. I will not be applying for her old job. I would rather clean up poop and vomit than deal with that kind of stress and conflict. It is a good thing that there are people like her that thrive in that kind of environment.

One of my patients died at the end of my shift tonight. It was expected, but watching him slowly die all evening and then stop breathing, I kept thinking of our nurse. She was dead too, only instead of being old and terminally ill, she had been in her prime. Life is dangerous. You never know what is coming at you from around the curve.

Wetting A Finger

There is a new sign up at work. It tells us not to lick or spit on our fingers at work. Amazingly enough, that is becoming a problem.

Our pyxis machine, which holds our medications, will not open unless our fingerprints match its records. It will not read our fingerprints if our fingers are bone dry. We have become desperate in our attempts to moisten our fingers so that the damn drawers will open. We all have our own ways of getting a finger wet.

If I'm anxious, rubbing my finger against the palm of my hand will work. If my palms aren't sweaty enough, then a quick wipe on my forehead or nose will do the trick. This is one of the few times that oily skin is a blessing.

Other people have resorted to licking their finger or spitting on it. We wouldn't really care, except that then their spit gets all over the machine and who wants to touch nurse spit?

They want us to use either alcohol wipes or moisturizer to moisten our finger. We don't like alcohol because it dries out our skin. We don't like moisturizer because it leaves a white gooey substance behind that has to be removed with alcohol.

I'm going to continue to use sweat or facial oil to get my meds. Nursing just keeps getting dirtier and dirtier.

Coccydynia

The number one way that people are injured at work is by falling out of chairs. Considering that we routinely work with biohazards, sharp objects and heavy bodies that need moving, I found it odd that chairs are more dangerous. And, exactly how does a person fall out of a chair, anyway? In my entire life, I had never fallen out of a chair.

I fell out of a chair a couple of weeks ago and now I get it. The chairs have wheels. All I did was stand up for a second to reach something and sat right back down. The chair was gone. Had I just landed on the floor, I would have been fine. Unfortunately, my tail bone hit the wheel. Now, I'm suffering from the heartbreak of coccydynia. That's just a fancy way of saying that my butt hurts.

It hurts to sit down, stand up, walk and worst of all, go to the bathroom. It is a type of injury that is slow to heal, but usually gets better without treatment. I did not report my injury at work like I was supposed to. It's a hassle and I really didn't want to have to go to the ER and have a doctor I might know, examine my bottom.

Who knew it was so hard to sit in a chair?

The Latest Camera

I bought a new camera, my fifth digital one. Being clumsy is expensive. Although, in my defense, I didn't drop all of them. One was already broken when I got it out of the box. Fortunately, I got it at Costco, so returning it was not an issue.

I was tempted to buy another shock resistant Olympus camera. That camera has survived countless falls from ladders and even some water dunking, but it just doesn't take great photos. It still works, but it takes photos when it wants to, not necessarily when I hit the shutter button. My patience has run out.

I bought a Canon Powershot A590 IS. It is another fragile camera, so its life expectancy is short. The photo above was my first picture with the new camera. I'm also glad that Blogger will upload the photos. With my Nikon, I had to go through a tedious process of posting photos on Photobucket and from there, downloading to Blogger.

The picture above was taken at bedtime. I'm watching TV and the boys are watching me.

Dragging A Leg

I'm not sure why a person would drive around with a leg dangling out of the car trunk, but considering that this photo was taken in a hospital parking lot, it does make me wonder. Either something horrible happened or the driver just enjoys being pulled over by cops.