Showing posts with label POTW. Show all posts
Showing posts with label POTW. Show all posts

Saturday, April 4, 2009

POTW

When visiting the ER it's important to remember that equipment is used for life saving purposes only. The very rare exception is if you're 2 years old and your parent blows up a latex glove to entertain you so you'll quit screaming.

A good example of what not to do is to play around with your wife by trying to hook up the heart monitor leads to your nipples and claim they're "nipple stimulators." And it's worse when I'm standing there trying to get the blood pressure cuff on your arm and you're flailing around laughing...while you're here for severe pain.

Also, please note to please keep PDA at a minimum. I have to clock out when I have to go vomit and it leaves my paycheck too short and my child to possibly go without food. Examples of things that might make a person vomit especially while standing within arm's reach of you: 1) pretend to give your husband nipple twisters and 2) play tonsil hockey while your 13 year old son sits at the foot of the bed.

Thank you for being respectful of our rules here. They truly are for your safety....and my sanity.

Friday, March 27, 2009

Now THAT'S an Emergency

You know your back pain is an emergency when you stop to get coffee from Starbucks before making your way effortlessly into the ER at 6:30am.

Argh. Stay home and take some Tylenol. Or follow up with your doctor in an hour.

Sunday, March 1, 2009

POTW

The other night when I got into work it was MAYHEM. I'd heard the helicopter had just recently taken a pt to LeBonhuer, a brain tumor had been discovered, and they were bagging a 1 year old rolling through the door on an ambulance (who ended up okay, by the way). The halls were filled with patients and the noise level was the equivalent of the mall the day after Thanksgiving.

You get my drift? CRAZY.

This patient of mine who I hadn't even had the pleasure of meeting yet was meandering around the hall almost standing on her tiptoes, peering around at who knows what.

"Ma'am, can I help you?"

"Yeah. That doctor said she was gon' let me go home but I hafta sign some discharge papers."

"Yes ma'am. The doctor has to type them into the computer. As soon as she has them done, I'll bring them into you so you can get home. I know you've been here a long time."

"Yeah. And y'all ain't even done nothin' for me. My thumb pad is STILL numb after 7 hours here. I mean, I don't think I can go to work tomorrow with my thumb like this! I could be DYING with my thumb like this and y'all don't even care."

*My head tilts down, eyes look upward, and my mouth falls open slightly. I caught the drool before it hit the floor.*

She didn't think she could work the next day because her thumb pad was numb?! Come on!! We've got providers somehow walking around seeing patients and throwing up inbetween assessments!

I bet her sick days are up by the end of March.

Wednesday, January 28, 2009

POTW

How do I keep this rated G? Or even PG? Let's just say if you are ever considering sticking very LARGE items up your rectum, you just might wanna think twice.

It could cause you to tear the anal tissue, bleed everywhere, go into the early stages of shock, get poked 50 times, have a urinary catheter, get admitted to the ICU, and have to have a colostomy (ie, poop in a bag out of your stomach). And then...tell all your friends how you got to this point.

And then you could consider saying to your nurse, "Well I guess I won't be doing THAT again!" No, seriously? Why not? Shiesh!

Maybe this one should be up for patient of the YEAR?

Monday, January 5, 2009

POTW

If you are ever a patient in a hospital, and you have the urge to vomit, I beg of you to do so in an appropriate place. If you do not have a barf pan, the floor is a good place; it's hard to miss and easy to clean. Your blanket would be a superb place since it is convenient and can be tossed effortlessly into the laundry bin.

The bedside table drawer is a perfect example of a HORRIBLE place to vomit.

Need I say more?

Tuesday, October 14, 2008

Helplessness

So I had a rough night at work almost two weeks ago. It was one of those moments in time that is stamped in your memory forever. It was also one of those times which you have to think about and process before being able to write about it...at least without crying.

To those who are pregnant (Hilary, Amanda, Sarah) or have had a miscarriage, GO AWAY. This was one of those rare instances where something bad happened, which will certainly NOT happen to you preggo ladies. However, for the sake of your sanity, click elsewhere!

I'm a relatively new nurse. Not still in orientation phase, but I definitely have not had enough experience that I'm "calloused." I don't mean that in a mean way, but from what I can tell, I believe when you've been in a medical profession where you interact directly with patients for a long time, your mind becomes calloused--to events, people, situations. Sure you still feel a twinge of sadness due to events, but I'm not sure it's ever as touching as the first time you encountered such a situation. With that being said, this was my first time.

It was Friday night in the ER about 3:30-4:00 am. My night was going well considering I had been up approximately 20 hours. I was told I had an 18 week pregnant lady coming back to my room with abdominal cramping. One of the nurses told me she had been there the night before and everything was checked out, seen as normal, and she'd been sent home. Honestly, I didn't think too much of it since she'd just been cleared less than a day ago.

I heard screaming down the hall. I walked back towards her room and she was already in the bed. The first thing I noticed was a little blood on the blanket between her legs. Honestly, in my mind I thought, "Oh, hopefully it's just a little bleeding/spotting we can get stopped and have her OB come in and see her." Thankfully, another nurse (much more experienced than I) was in the room already with the patient, holding her hand. She clearly understood the "emergentness" of this situation much better than I did at that moment. I wasn't naive for long. The other nurse assisted her in opening her legs to check to see if she was dilating. Much worse. She was crowning...and quickly.

I ran down the hall looking for a doctor to assist. I found him and led him into the room. To be honest, I wanted as far away from there as possible and absolutely didn't want to go in. My sleep deprived, hormonal, motherly mind wanted me out. However, she was my patient, and I didn't wanna leave in case I was needed.

The baby was pulled out and laid into a bedpan, the only thing on hand during the premature delivery. I tried my best not to look, but during a moment when someone's arm moved, I saw. That poor, precious baby was completely formed. His little eyes were still fused, but his fingers and toes were all there, perfectly and delicately formed. His little arms and legs were so tiny. I remember the content look on his face as he lay in that bucket. It was the most peaceful smile almost. I thought to myself, "Hopefully he passed away without pain, safe in his mommy." There was nothing we could do for an 18 week baby. Medical science just isn't that advanced. That little soul would have had so, so much more growing to do mentally and physically before he could have fended for himself outside of his mommy. Mom was bleeding pretty heavily, and they had to get it stopped. They clamped the umblicial cord. That's where my mind took a photo.

The baby which I thought had passed away safe within his mommy's womb, picked his head up and turned it towards me and formed his mouth into an "O". I lost it. Was he trying to cry? Was it just some sort of reaction? What he trying to gasp for air because his blood supply had been cut off? I got out of that room as quickly as possible. I cried. Harder than I've ever cried. I wanted to pick up that poor baby and hold him as he died so that he felt something besides a bedpan on his body. I was mad. Mad that there was absolutely nothing we could do for this little soul. Not a thing except watch him die in a pool of blood. I felt guitly. Guilty because I remembered feeling my baby kick at 19 weeks exactly, just days older than this baby. I had a beautiful, healthy baby boy at home, and there lay this little boy who did not stand a chance. And that poor mother. She was never given the chance to parent that little boy. To cuddle and kiss him. To tickle his tummy. So many emotions.

I was relieved to fall into my husband's arms that morning and tell him what happened. I was grateful to hold my sweet baby moments later and look into his bright blue eyes and see his sweet smile. It took days to get over that eventful night. To be able to talk about it without crying. How some people have abortions, I just don't know. That sweet living child was just that--living. It's beyond me.

So that was my first time. Probably not the last. But I must say, if I ever become calloused, and I look back to this night and see those pictures so firmly stamped in my head, there is no way that emotion won't flow.

Thursday, September 25, 2008

POTW

I stepped out into the waiting room early this morning about 4:30. I attempted to pronounce Mr. N's name the best I could. He was from the Middle East so it was not a name I was familiar with. As soon as I called his name, he jumped up and walked very quickly towards me, eager to be seen. He looked like an intelligent man in his 30s. I walked him back to his room. He had a seat on the bed. I began my line of questioning:

Me: Tell me what's going on tonight. (Obviously, I'm looking for one main problem here)

Mr. N (in an accent, mind you): Well, my wife is out of the country for the first time ever. She's visiting her family in the middle east. I got worried because I was home alone and scared something was wrong so I came here to get checked out.

Me: Okay. So what brings you here?

Mr. N (speaking rather quickly): Well I did not eat anything today because I was so busy except for some coffee this morning. So about 11 o'clock tonight I started feeling weak. Like my arms and legs were so weak and tired.

Me: Okay....

Mr. N: (cricket chirping inserted here)

Me: (We obviously needed some prompting here): So what did you do?

Mr. N: Well, I ate a little something after 11:00 and I felt better.

Me: Okay, well that's good. So, what's going on right now?

Mr. N: Nothing now. I feel fine.

I reran the entire story somewhat like this: "So you didn't eat anything today, felt weak around 11, ate something, and now you feel fine?"

Yep. This guy must have some severe separation issues with this woman of his. I sure hope she comes back soon so someone will feed this starving soul!


Tuesday, September 2, 2008

I'm Back!

I'm getting so much grief for not blogging and posting new pictures for the fam! So sorry! My life is a tad more hectic than it used to be what with a baby to tend to 24/7 and all. ;)

Sunday night was my first night back at work. Drew woke me up that morning at 6:15 which was fine since that's what time we have to get up anyway to make it to church at 10:00. (Wake up, nurse, mommy shower, baby bath, mommy eat, nurse, dress mommy, dress drew, pack diaper bag!) I attempted to get a nap that afternoon, but it was reduced to 45 minutes when my child insisted on staying awake. Leaving him was SO hard. Even though I knew he was in good, competent hands with people who love him just as much as I do, I couldn't help but wonder, "What if he needs me and I'm not here?" I made Andrew promise on his life that if Drew wouldn't quit crying he would put him in the truck and drive him up to me. I also made him and Kacie promise to send me texts and voicemails throughout the night to tell me how he was doing.
I was sooo looking forward to coming home. I was hoping my relief would arrive on time and I could walk out before 7. Well, guess what? My patient turned bad on me at 6:40. Perfect timing! I didn't leave until 7:30, but when I got home I kissed my baby's face off!! When I went to nurse him, he looked so happy to have me back instead of a bottle. He was smiling and laughing so much I couldn't even get him latched on. Needless to say, the feeling was mutual! I am so thankful that my work schedule worked out so I could just work one day a week. That wasn't the case until just recently after much prayer and consideration. Praise God for His blessings! The only downside-I'll SO miss my weeknight nurse & doctor friends!

I can't go to work without some kind of patient story. The lady in the hall called out to me as I was walking by. I kindly asked what she needed. She said, "Do we get a discount for not having a television while we're here?" I said, "Only if I get a bonus for no break tonight." I laughed. She didn't.

My iron bladder boy is still peeing out of his diapers. We bumped him up to cruisers even though he's still 4 lbs underneath the Cruisers limit. They definitely hold better (ie hold more), but he still leaks out all the time when he lies on his back. Today he'd been asleep in my arms for about 45 minutes. I decided to attempt to put him in his bassinet. I promise I hadn't been away 5 seconds and I heard him squirm. I turned around and there was tee tee everywhere! Happened again at his afternoon nap. We've made sure his "shooter" was pointing downward, tried bigger diapers, and tried turning him on his side instead of his back to no avail! I've never heard of anyone else having this problem!

He will be 8 weeks old tomorrow. WOW! We go for his 2 month check up on Sept 9 during which he'll get his shots. Y'all...I'm dreading this like the plague! He and I are both going to bawl. Those nurses and doctors are going to think I'm crazy. Crazy about my baby hurting! I am, however, looking forward to having him officially weighed. The difference in his weight and mine on the scale is 12.5 lbs. Speaking of weight, I still have 10 lbs to go and have remained the same for almost 2 weeks. I think I've hit a rut!

The big excitement at our house is that Andrew & I are going on our first post baby date Saturday night while mom and dad keep Drew for a few hours. We're super excited! My friend Lori challenged us to try and not talk about Drew while on the date. She said it's almost impossible! I have a feeling she's right!

And back by request, many pictures of my sweet boy!




The outfit from Aunt Dianne


The dimple caught on camera--finally! I have one in the same spot! Isn't it adorable?!




"Thank you. Thank you very much!"



Thursday, April 10, 2008

POTW

Triage note: "Mom states child has piece of flesh hanging in nose." Listed as non-emergent (aka-go home).

Did she try to get it out? Why, no. It was an emergent situation that required her to act on her feet to get to the ER ASAP! Has the child been sniffing dead flesh? What might you think this "piece of flesh" would be? That's right. A booger.

Booger- a piece of dried mucous in or of the nose. (from dictionary.com)

I bet that's the most expensive booger to ever exist. She should submit that booger to the Guinness Book of World Records. Maybe they'd give her some money for the photo rights.

Friday, March 28, 2008

Patient Quote of the Week

I can't pin this on one parent. Too many have made this statement (or a similar variant) in the past two weeks that I'm considering handing out fliers at the front door stating the true facts.

Quotes:

"She was running a fever at home so I gave her some Tylenol, but 6 hours later....(dramatic pause)....the fever is back again!!" AHHHH!!! YOU'RE KIDDING!

"I gave him some Motrin at 5am cause he was running 102 fever, but when I picked him up from the sitter's after work at 5pm, his temperature was right back up! So we brought him on in." Glad you made it in the nick of time.

Imagine that. Tylenol & Motrin are not one time doses. NEWSFLASH: THE BOX WILL TELL YOU THAT IF YOU JUST READ IT!!

Vent over.

Friday, March 7, 2008

Shoutouts, Updates, Venting

First of all, a very LARGE shout out to all my faithful readers at my work. You guys are amazing, and it means a lot to me that you care enough about me & my family to follow our lives via our blog. I hear comments from you all the time about how you faithfully check me between your favorite sites or that you caught up with my latest news (It's a Boy!) first thing at work the other night. That means SO much to me personally! A special thanks to: Heather, Dr. Gillespie, Dr. Herren, Shelley, and LeeAnn!

Speaking of my amazing coworkers, I came into work one night this week to a huge array of blue balloons, a DELICIOUS cake, and my favorite foods (macaroni & cheese, cheese dip, and coke). It was so incredible that these people loved me enough to put in all this effort just to celebrate my little boy. They make my job worth it. Thank you guys SOOO much--from the bottom of my heart! Did I mention what the cake said? (Background story: Dr. Tripp Dargie said the baby was going to be named Little Tripp after himself. Dr. Rob Rayer decided it should be named Litle Rob. To satisfy them both, they combined Rob and Tripp to get "Rip." So the cake read: 'Welcome to the World, Rip Laney!' It was priceless, and I think his name will stick at work! ;) Pictures to come soon!


The bedding for the room came in the mail (yay!), and I went and picked out wall colors this morning. I can't wait to paint and show it to you. Kacie came up with an awesome idea based on an inspiration picture from HGTV's Rate My Space. Unfortunately, it's supposed to snow this weekend which will deter me from ventilating the room to paint. So it looks like painting will be postponed for now.

On a very exciting note, we're going to attempt to go and register for our "big items" this weekend. We've been advised by more than one person to steer clear of registering for clothes, bibs, receiving blankets, and bath products. So, instead, we're just going to register for the big stuff (play yard, swing, highchair, travel system, etc). I've been reading my Baby Bargains book religiously. I seriously don't know how I would have made the decision on which product to register for if it weren't for this book. It's amazing!

To completely confuse you and jump to another topic, I must tell you what someone said to me at work last night. She was in the ER with her mother awaiting their ride upstairs (and out of my room) when her mom decided she needed to go to the bathroom at the moment her ride arrived--of course. Her daughter then goes on to say, "I don't know why you nurses don't wear white anymore. I use to work in a hospital, and we HAD to wear uniforms. We looked so profession. You look like you're wearing blue jeans! (I was wearing blue scrub pants--like 5 other people at the nurses' desk). Back in my day, we had the skirt, hose, heels, and pressed striped tops with hats! We looked professional!! (And might I add ridiculous?)." I couldn't believe she had the gall to tell the person who was trying to help her 90-something year old mother to the bathroom that I looked unprofessional and frumpy. I can't say I cried when they headed up to the floor. I'd like to see her wear a white skirt, heels, and hat on some of our nights in the ER. The gall of some people.

Sorry this post is without much of a visual. I need to take a 21 week picture, but I'm gaining quite a bit of weight (yikes!). It probably has something to do with macaroni & cheese, cheese dip, cokes, and eggs. ;) 7 lb. weight gain so far. Official weigh in is Tuesday at my OB appt. Mom says they're going to put me on a diet of carrot sticks. They'll be disappointed to know that's not in my repertoire of the 5 fruits and veggies I actually do eat. ;)

Last note: Lori was supposed to go in to be inducted for a C section to have Abigail this morning at 7:30 because Abigail's abdomen was enlarged too much for a vaginal delivery. No word yet on the outcome. Keep praying for them!

Hope you all have a fabulous weekend! Spend it with the ones you love!

Friday, February 29, 2008

PsOTW

- man comes in by ambulance for "bunion pain."

- woman comes in with her 14 month old with fever of 101. Says, "I gave him some Tylenol at 6 this morning and his fever went away, but when I picked him up from daycare at 5 his fever was back! So we decided to come on in." Good idea. That Tylenol stuff is one time dose only!

- I'm standing by my desk charting. "Ma'am!! Ma'am!!" Ugh. Is she calling me?? I turn around to see a woman waving a dollar bill through a 1 1/2 foot crack in the door that leads out of the ER into a hallway.

"Ma'am! Ma'am!" she says, still waving her dollar in the air like a handkerchief.

"Yes ma'am?" I reply.

"Do you know where the coke machine is?"

"Are you in the ER waiting room?"

"Yes."

How could you have missed it? It's smack in the middle of the seating area. "Okay, well there's one in the waiting room. It's right in front of the area where you were triaged." I stare at her.

"Can you come show me? I don't know where it is cause I'm not from Memphis."

WHAT?!

I could not help but roll my eyes to the top of my head and snicker as I tried squeezing my expanding stomach out the crack of the door. What in the world does being from Memphis have ANYTHING to do with this situation?! I'm not from Memphis either, but I know where the coke machine is. I'm just glad she didn't end up being my patient. Clearly, she wasn't the brightest crayon in the box.

Tuesday, February 12, 2008

Patient of the Week


or POTW for short.

She's up for "Most Likely to Reek of Urine"

How else do you get proper treatment and get seen "right away" than by coming in by ambulance? Everyone knows that an ambulance ride automatically equals skipping the foreseeable torturous wait. NOT.

Arrival: Stinky rolls in on the ambulance at 7:15 and heads straight to triage.
Stats: 29 year old female.
Complaint: Pain with urinating and lower mid abdominal pain x 3 days.

Can you, unlicensed medical professional, guess what she has without reading any further? That's right. A bladder infection. An ambulance for a bladder infection. That's your tax dollars, right there.

The Scene: So she rightfully waits 6 hours at least to get seen before she gets called back. I open the door to the waiting room, 49 eyes staring back at me (one guy had only one eye). I call for her. "Stinky?" No one jumps up towards me. Out of the corner of my eye I see a lot of fumbling around occurring. Dare I peak around the corner? There sits Stinky in a WHEELCHAIR covered up in 5 hand stitched blankets, being doted upon by her mother and sister. Impossible. I understand from first hand experience that a bladder infection is painful--but her white count was not nearly THAT elevated. I approached her. "Can you not walk?" I said. "NO! It hurts too much!" she said, in shock that I would even ask such a thing of her in such frail condition. I was met with agreeing looks of shock from the endearing family members. We roll along back to the room.

"Hop up onto the stretcher for me."

Stinky's head goes down and her eyes look up at me as she smiles. "Do I have to?"

"Well the doctor's going to want to assess you when s/he gets here and you'll need to be on the bed for that. Might as well go ahead and get it over with." I smile politely.

She starts laughing and puts her head back down, shooting her eyes back up at me. Still giggling like a schoolgirl she said, "I wet my pants."

Apparently, it was so painful to walk the two steps from the wheelchair to the toilet that she just wet her pants, the wheelchair, and her blankets when she felt the urge to let loose. 29 years old! She thought this was so funny. I looked at her with one eyebrow raised. Something had to be wrong upstairs.

Let's top it off with the fact that I went in to give her her discharge papers and she would barely wake up. Wouldn't open her eyes. Would hardly turn her head towards me. And acted like she couldn't sign her name. All because of a bladder infection.

So if you see a girl with yellow crusted blankets rolling around in a wheelchair, don't stand too close or put your foot near her chair. You might get peed on.

Tuesday, February 5, 2008

Patients of the Week


Last night was rough. We had almost 70 patients in the ER at 7pm, all waiting to be worked up. You have to know that on a night like this, the weirdos and crazies are going to crawl out of their dwellings to make their appearances. Here are a couple from last night, for your entertainment. (Names have been changed to protect the innocent...er, guilty.)

-A woman brings her child in for a fever of 104 at home and a cough. What else do you do with a child with a fever except bring him to the ER!? Give him Tylenol? What are you thinking? Bring that kid to the ER! Now, when there are 70 people waiting to be seen, you can imagine the wait time is long. Last night was no exception. This lady waited 6 hours in the waiting room with this 9 month old. She finally gets to come back to a private room with a stretcher and a television. The kid gets a chest x-ray and plays in the room, smiling, laughing, drooling. Less than an hour and a half later she's up at the nurse's desk (we've addressed this previously--google "use of call light"). This is how the conversation goes:

Mom: We're gonna leave and I'm just gonna take him to his doctor in the morning.

Me: Yes ma'am, I know you've waited a really long time, but you're the next person the doctor is coming to see. It will only be a moment before he will be in your room.

Mom: No. I'm tired. I think we're gonna go on home.

Me: Ma'am I just looked at his chest xray and the radiologist commented that he has bronchitis and possible pneumonia. If he does have pneumonia, he could need blood work, IV antibiotics, or at least a prescription.

Mom: I'll just take him to the pediatrician's office in the morning. (Wondering if she just heard what I said about her son having pneumonia.)

Me: Are you sure because you've been waiting 7 1/2 hours and it's FINALLY your turn.

Mom: I just wanna sign the paperwork and leave.

Me: Alright. I'll get it for you. Let's go ahead and give him this Tylenol I was drawing up for his fever.

Mom: No thanks. I'll give him some at home. (Right...just like what totally slipped your mind when he originally had fever.)

And she left. After waiting all that time when she was next up in line and I informed her of how sick her child could be. I'm voting her mom of the year.
---------------------------------------------------------------------
I'm voting this guy "most likely to live with his mom his entire life." (Warning: It's long, gross, and you'll be amazed).

Ambulances are rolling in. We have zero beds. Heck, we don't even have any chairs. "No rooms at the inn!" should be flashing outside. The next emergent dude rolls in (31 years old) with his wife and mother at his side, looking intensely worried. Nausea, vomiting, diarrhea for 3 hours. He called 911 for this instead of asking his wife to drive him. I'm sure he thought he was going to need life support before he could get here. Guess what? Inn's still booked. Out to the waiting room. 2 hours later I'm bringing him back to a room. Granted, at this time he's a little clammy, pale, and throwing up a little bit of clear liquid. He needs some fluids. He gets some and after the second bag and some phenergan and pain medicine, is looking much better. When we all started saying how much better he looked, I think it upset him. Now is when I name him Titty Baby. I understand that men are bad sickly people. I do. But this guy took it to the extreme. Check this out:

He says he has to have diarrhea. I say we'll walk him across the hall (approx 15 steps from his bed) to the bathroom. He says he can't make it because he's too weak to walk and needs a bedpan. What? You're a big healthy (albeit probably a LITTLE weak from vomiting) 31 year old horse of a man! So, abandoning my best instincts, I get the man a bedpan thinking 1) after the first bout of diarrhea in a bedpan, he won't need to do this again cause he'll have his strength back and 2) what 31 year old man would actually use a bedpan if he had two working feet?! He proceeds to use the bedpan (after he had ME put it under him) with his wife, mother, and I all part of the audience. Sound effects and all. The orchestra was in full force. He then says he can't pull it out. So I, nice nurse, pull it out. I now have to obtain a stool specimen of the most disgusting smelling diarrhea ever. And it's not in chunks so it can't be "scooped" out. It must be poured...over a toilet, preferably. So I walk it 1/2 mile to the closest bathroom and obtain said specimen. Ew. I go back into the room, and you will not believe this---

His wife is wiping his butt with the baby wipes I'd given him. This grown man, fully capable of sticking his hand in between his own two legs was being wiped by his diligent, enabling wife. This happened multiple times.

You would think with such great "cleaning service" you wouldn't miss the opportunity to catch your output in a bucket. No so for Titty Baby. He has diarrhea in his bed....THREE TIMES. Diligent wife changes his sheets for him every single time and piles them in the floor. I guess having his butt wiped by someone else just wasn't cutting it anymore.

On top of this he: 1) couldn't lift his arm to get the blood pressure cuff around it 2) pretended to talk out of his head (blaming it on the phenergan he'd received 5 hours prior--yeah right), 3) acted like he couldn't speak at all, and then mumbled when he did so no one could understand him, and 4) acted like he couldn't hear a word I was saying and was "asleep" 5 seconds after telling his wife how much he hurt all over.

People, I had had it. This was the biggest man baby known in all of history. He took "Most Amazing Patient of the Week" home in a wrapped package. And the wife? Seriously? My husband would have to be in pretty bad shape for me to wipe his butt...and I think I can speak on behalf of my husband and say he wouldn't WANT me wiping his butt unless he had no hands!

Anyone wanna work for me Wednesday night? It'll probably be lots of the same.

(p.s. Please excuse any grammatical errors in this post. I'm exhausted and don't want to proofread it.)

Tuesday, October 9, 2007

Things NOT to Do in the ER





What a night. I am not a hard hearted nurse...except to those who abuse me and the medical system. These people need a list of rules handed to them as they walk in the door. They should have to sign in agreement before medical treatment is started. Here are some of my top "do nots."

1. Do not ask me for a warm blanket, a pillow, and some apple juice before I can even ask what's wrong with you. Fake shivering won't get you anywhere either.

2. Under no circumstances should you stand at the far end of my desk staring at me. I see you out of the corner of my eye and I purposely ignore you. I do not show you the call light in your room for nothing. Use it! I'll get to you when I have time.

3. Do not give your elderly mother a suppository 30 minutes before you are being discharged. That's just mean.

4. Do not come into the ER with your 2 month old baby and no diapers, wipes, or formula and THEN have the nerve to ask if I have Enfamil with iron...and ONLY the kind with iron. I'll tell you who DOES have that. Kroger. They're 1 mile down the road. Who in the world leaves without bear necessities for a child?

5. Do not bring your laughing, playing 4 year old into the ER at 3 a.m. for their alleged ear infection. You know you just want a work excuse.

6. Do not ask if I can use a butterfly needle to start your IV. That's so annoying.

7. Don't pitch a fit when I tell you you have to have an IV started. If you're in bad enough pain to be in the ER, you should expect an IV.

8. Do not talk to the other patient in the hallway about how no one cares about your situation and you haven't been seen in X hours while we're standing in front of you. We have ears...and those statements will make your wait longer...and your pain meds delayed.

9. Do not come into the ER and complain that you haven't eaten all day and you're starving. That's not my fault, nor is it my problem. Missing a meal or two won't hurt you. Even worse, if you're a family member complaining that your relative hasn't eaten all day, quit being mean and lazy and go to McDonalds. They'll give it to you faster than we will. And it tastes better.

10. You absolutely cannot take home our sheets, pillows, and blankets.

11. Do not come into the ER wanting your 10 month long, chronic headache to be healed. Never make the statement, "I'm not leaving until someone finally figures out what's wrong with me!" Those people always eat their words. We are for EMERGENCIES...not chronic problems.

12. Don't come in with a pain somewhere in your body without taking SOME sort of medication first. You lose our sympathy that way.

13. Do not call an ambulance for your cough. Yes, that happens. Unless your lung it hanging out of your mouth, your coughing butt will go straight to the waiting room...for a long time.

14. Do I wear an apron? Do not come give me your coffee order. This is not McDonalds. I am not a waitress. Do not ask me to change the channel on your television for you or, "find what channel Murray is on." I have better things to do...like save lives.

15. Do not get mad when you have to wait 7 hours to be seen for your sniffy nose. This is an EMERGENCY room. You are clearly not the priority patient.

16. Don't lie to me. I will find out. And when I do, I won't believe one more word that comes out of your mouth...and I'll document it for future nurses.

17. Do not ask me to come dim your lights, tuck you in, and get you 5 more blankets when I'm running full speed down the hall with IV fluids and medications filling my hands. Tuck your own self in.

18. Absolutely do NOT come back to the room with "stomach pain" while drinking a Sprite and eating Cheetos.

19. It is not necessary to bring your entire family tree to the tiny ER room with you. They only get in my way. Text message them in the waiting room.

20. Don't ask me 15 times, "How much longer until I get a room?" Trust me--I want you out of here as much as you want to get out of here. You'll know when I know.

21. Do not request your own pain meds. You'll be sure not to get them, drug seeker.

22. DO NOT talk on the cell phone while I am in the room talking to you or your sick child/mother/baby's daddy. Your conversation about tonight's episode of your favorite tv show ranks at the bottom of importance. And if you choose to continue talking as I'm finishing giving your 12 year old her medical instructions, DON'T hang up the phone and ask what I just said. I'll tell you you can read the discharge papers. I'm not talking for my health.

23. Don't tell me, "I can't pee right now." You either try or I go up and get it with a catheter. Your choice.

24. Don't tell me about the appointments you have to keep this afternoon so I'll hurry up. It certainly doesn't work that way. Since you are here, it "must" be an emergency. Surely you can explain to your doctor/lawyer/boss the "emergency" you had to miss work/appts for.

25. When the doctor leaves the room after telling you you are going to be discharged, don't come find me at the desk to tell me you're going to get to leave. Yes, I know that, and I'll be in to discharge you as soon as possible.

So basically....sit down, shut up, answer questions, and listen to our advice. People who are truly emergencies usually do this without being asked anyway! ;)

Friday, August 17, 2007

Explosion of pictures...for the last time in a while

My favorite time of the week: the weekend! We're going out of town from Friday night until Sunday to visit Andrew's mom in Greenville, so I'm kind of excited to get away. That reminds me that several weeks ago when Andrew's mom was in town, we took pictures with "old faithful 2 megapixel HP camera" that I never published. Better late than never, as I always say!








I slept terribly yesterday afternoon because I got 6 phone calls from Lowe's telling me my mixer was in. I was like, "Shiesh people. It's not like I'm waiting on edge to cook my potatoes. Leave a message on call number 1!" Due to the lack of sleep, you would think I would be exhausted. Well, you would think correctly. Then why am I still awake? Because I'm so, so hungry and there's NOTHING to eat in this house besides beans and tomoto sauce. Blah. So I keep sitting here thinking I'll miraculously remember something in the kitchen to eat. Thinking...thinking...Nope. The beans have not turned into eggs and biscuits...yet.



Guess what happened this week at work, faithful readers? An overweight woman who had no idea she was pregnant (and didn't look pregnant) had a full term baby in the ER...in the commode! She had gone to get a urine specimen while her brother waited outside the door. He came around the corner, made a motion for the nurse and said, "My sister says there's something that came out of her in the toilet, and it's making noise." Either someone is crawling through the sewage system and coming up out of your toilet or there's a baby in there. I guess this man really wasn't sure which would be more probable. I'm just really glad she didn't flush before looking. Now, I've never been pregnant, but it seems to me that you could not deny a baby using your bladder as a trampoline for 9 months. This woman's face was one of pure shock. She really had no idea! It was quite the excitement in the ER for several hours!


For anyone who is interested in benefiting yourself, I'm opening a fund for "Audra's New Camera." How does this benefit you, you ask? Well, you don't have to read blank pages with no pictures or terrible quality pictures on my blog. Not that desperate, you say? Oh well, I tried! I really, really want a new digital camera because our 5 year old one is at the end of its hard life. It really stinks to attend family functions and not have a camera to capture the memories. Either way, my husband says it's not in the cards this month...or next month. Probably not the month after either. Guess we'll just have to take snapshots in our memories. Thanks, hun. I have a terrible memory.


On a much GRANDER note...we're going to see The Lion King play at the Orpheum next weekend!! My aunt Deda (shoutout to aunt Deda--hi!!) so very, very graciously volunteered to take us. We are so pumped! We're going to meet up with the entire family to go out to eat at the Pier by the MS River and then to the Orpheum for the play at 8:00! It's going to be a blast!! Too bad all my pictures from that night will be in my memory. ha ha ha!


Thank you, Deda for giving us this awesome opportunity! You are the best! We love you and Mr. Herbert so, so much!

I realized the other day I never put up pictures of the new furniture in the house. Without further ado...







Isn't it beautiful? We absolutely love it! Side note, though--dark wood shows dirt SO easily!



Well, my stomach is growling like a ravenous monster, so I better feed the thing. Guess I'll cooke me some tomato sauce beans. Yum yum! ;) Hope you all have a good weekend!



And just a little picture to sign off with....my nerd husband with this awesome shirt:


The shirt reads: "Don't Pretend Like You Don't Want Some of This". He actually wears this in public, people!

Ah, the crazy lives we lead!!

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