Saturday, February 27, 2010

ok. OK. OK!!! Enough!

My ER, all 6 beds of it is a Level I Drama center.
For the last 2 shifts I have experienced more Drama than I care to. I really hate it, frankly.

To sob at the top of your voice because you have a headache. Doesn't all that angst simply make it worse? And while we're at it

To lie to me and tell me that your mummy is coming to get you afer you have received narcotics for your chronic complaint when she is, in fact, in Florida. Where she undoubtedly moved to get away from you. You are 42; grow the fuck up.

To like on the floor panting in front of the triage area moaning and telling me you can't move because you have an infection in your neck. I am not picking you up. You walked in, didn't you?

To scream at age 38 when I start an IV. The gentleman in the room next door is silent even though his hand is broken in several places and he is missing part of a finger, not to mention the burns on the same arm from an industrial accident. I really wish I could tell you about how brave he is and how stupid you appear, but HIPPA laws prevent me from mentioning it. I regret that the largest IV I have in the box is an 18 gauge.

For you to make me triage you, for your 13th visit for dental pain in the last 12 months, AS WELL AS your two very young kids. I am not stupid, and using your two kids as a smoke screen with bogus "earaches" does not legitimize your visit. In fact, is is unconscionable not only that you are doing this but that you still have not applied for Health Kids. IT'S FREE, for crap's sake. Oh and by the way you smell like the bottom of an ashtray. That's REALLY not ok.

For your inbred daughter to start to drive off while my co-worker is standing beside the car after we drag your Drama Queen ass out. It is bad enough that you are too lazy to get out of the car; it is cold out, and snowing, and we are not wearing jackets. There is no need to injure us as well. We don't get paid enough.

That I have to deal with the Organ Bank for people that are deader than dirt. The family said "NO". You people are relentless; you are the Grim Reapers of health care and I would rather deal with funeral directors any day of the week. They are unfailingly pleasant and polite.

That five Drama Tweens from the same school ski trip wasted our time with knee immobilizers and crutches with nothing injuries; not so much as a single swollen joint among them. Alas, they all have cell phones and the parents, too stupid to keep their little darlings home, are also too stupid to tell them to put the phones away in triage.

and finally,
That Sherry is going to Haiti for two weeks with 3 days notice with Remote Area Medical group (RAM). There are 10 nurses in our department; four of us have volunteered. Aside from Sherry, Mikki joined RNRN, and Cathy and I have signed on with Project Hope. Although I just got an email from Project Hope; they are pulling up anchor but are leaving a crew on the ground for some time I believe, the details were not yet worked out. So we'll see what happens, which one of us gets the call and which will answer.

Project Hope was why I became a nurse in the first place. The S.S. HOPE, started in 1958, was the first peace time hospital ship. When I heard about what it was, I was 6; I really wanted to be a nurse and take care of sick kids on that hospital ship. Half of that plan came true anyway. By the early 70's, my plan was to go to nursing school and learn to be an ER nurse. I wanted to go to Viet Nam, but the war ended when I was in my 2nd year. After graduation I still thought that the Navy was a good plan, but my boyfriend (now husband of 32 years) talked me out of it. In the late 80's I wanted to join the National Guard; but my kids were too little and again Mr. Ednurseasauras talked me out of it.

Which is kind of why I waited 3 weeks to tell him about volunteering with Project Hope. He took it pretty well, being as understanding as he could be about my motivation, but as always, supportive.

Guess I'll wait to tell my mother if/when I am called to serve....