You Guys are Killing Me

I happened to be one of only 2 female nurses in the department this shift. The other 4 were guys, all the docs were guys, the medic was a guy. The other female was in triage which left me to chaperone all of the many pelvic exams, female rectal exams, and any other exam the docs thought they needed a chaperone for. This is a somewhat unusual situation, and escaped nobody's notice that I was becoming increasingly annoyed to become the "crotch nurse in the land of testosterone". Hmmph. Big Mick (he is Irish, and big, but this pseudonym is not meant as a slur, believe me) noted that it was going to be a long "boys night". I predicted that the testoterone would literally drip off the walls. Eamon thought the boys might surprise me by getting in touch with their femininie sides. I told him I really didn't want to work in Brokeback ER, to which he plaintively replied "I just can't quit you!" Eamon, I don't know which is more disturbing, the fact that you know the reference or the quote or both. Whoo hoo! Let's talk about huntin' and fishin'. Which they did. Interesting night, I never thought there was that much to learn about ice fishing, snowmobiling, and potato guns. Ah, well. After all, this is New Hampshire

Fear of Flight?

Well, this was an interesting bit of fun. Local EMS brings for our entertainment an "out of control" 16 year old male with a history of ADD, no Ritalin for 10 days, who has been on a two day Red Bull bender. Mom and Dad have been unable to do anything at all with him, his usual impulsivity and anger issues having been exacerbated by the caffeine and sugar.

Charge Queen: We need to get security down here, I put him and the mother in the family room but he's a flight risk.

Me: Flight risk? Is it because Red Bull gives you wiiiings?

Charge Queen: EDnurseasauras, that is bad! But funny.

Maxine Lives!

You know Maxine; the cartoon character that graces numerous emails (especially from my mother- she just LOVES Maxine). She is that crazy old bat with the bunny slippers who dispenses knowledge from the bottom of a wine glass. One of my patients turned out to be a seeming prototype for Maxine, minus the bunny slippers. I happened to pick up the phone for a patient advice call. We get dozens of these every day, and since the bottom line is come to the ER because we aren't allowed to give any actual common sense information, we tend to take turns. The caller said that she had experienced bilteral wavy lines in her vision which lasted about 30 seconds, and she had a mild headache. She said that she called her opthamologist who told her she should get right to the ER because she could be having a stroke. Sound advice. She was looking for confirmation, I guess, and also wanted to know if she would "be sitting in the waiting room for hours and hours". After informing her that the visit would take as long as was necessary, she agreed to think about it.

About 2 hours later she lands in my room. Longish gray hair, hiking boots instead of bunny slippers, but I'd know that sneer anywhere: yup, it's Maxine in the flesh. And cantakerous as hell. Won't get undressed. Won't let me draw blood. Won't let me start an IV. Won't let me do an EKG. Won't even sit on the bed. Stands in the doorway with arms folded across her chest. She is ANGRY. Dr. Dewshe Bagghe takes this one (oh, joy), talks with her for a bit and gets her to agree to 1) an EKG, 2) Labs, and 3) a head CT.

The tech accomplishes the bloods and EKG, but Dr. Dewshe, master of communication that he is, conveniently forgets to tell me the CT is with IV contrast, so in I go to start a good-sized line. That done, it is time for her CT. I tell her she needs to take off her hair appliances, earrings, necklaces, etc. She asks if the CT is "the one that's a tube". I explained the CT, and she seems a bit more relaxed. I told her I needed to take her to CT in a wheelchair, expecting a huge fight, but she relented. I notice a book she has in her lap, and ask her how she is liking it as it is something I have read (some off-beat fantasy about dragons, I have eclectic tastes in lit.). We chat about books on the way to her test, and I tell her I will see her in about 10 minutes.

Upon her return, I check her vitals which are all normal, and comment that at 74, she appears many years younger than that. This prompted a really great conversation about life and living it, how she walks the woods with her 3 dogs daily, is an avid reader, and manages to learn something new everyday. She was afraid she WAS having a stroke, and nothing made her more afraid than the prospect of losing her intellect, mobility or especially her independence. I thought she and my mom would get along great. Now, my mom is 75 and another go-getter who will sneak a flask onto the senior citizen bus trips; they tend not to serve ETOH. God forbid mum and her cronies don't have a little wine with lunch. Actually, I want to be just like her and raise as much hell as she does when I am her age. Her Christmas card was her on the back of a motorcycle on her 75th b'day, an event at which she and 6 of her friends drank the rest of us under the table. And remained pretty sober at that; maybe they were just pickled.

Anyway, Miss Maxine was given the good news that her CT was fine. Naturally she was opposed to hospitalization and signed out AMA. But before she left, she kissed me on the cheek (2nd time in 32 years I've allowed that), thanked me profusely for being so kind, and went on her merry way.

I hope she is out there raising hell.

Idiotic Names

Maybe it's because of all these idiot celebrities naming their kids pretentiously (did it start with Dweezil Zappa?), but I have had a rash of stupidly spelled names of late. Stupid because these kids are going to spend the rest of their lives spelling their names.

Here are a few samples of stupidity:
Jewelly pronounced "Julie"
Jessaca
Pshawn, the "P" is silent (no pshit)
Kortny
Holleigh
Alexeigh
Mykele pronounced Michael
Linsy (did you mean "LINDSAY?")
Khelli

Here is a selection of some plain Stupid Names:
Crystal Snow (the Ice Queen?)
Precious
Princess
Treasure
King (except for my uncle, and the middle names of several of my male relatives--it IS a family name)
Badger (hahahaha! "BADGERS? We don't need no stinkin' badgers!")
Audra and Jared (if you are over 40, remember "The Big Valley" TV show?)
Marvolene (WTF?)
Feral
Maverick ("did your mother not like you?")
Tyler Harley Davidson (a girl, yikes)
Summer, Winter, Spring and Autumn (not from the same family)

Names Guaranteed to Get Your Kid Beat Up:
Boral (combination of Bob and Coral?)
Lexus
Third (yikes)
Juniper
Quita (could never finish anything?)
Juicey (no lie)
Boswin
Storey (Ah, the Story Girl. Welcome!)
...and to go with the above, Anne of Green Gables Johnson
Shiclet (accent on the last syllable; "Chiclet?")

Here's a doozy or two from when I used to babysit a million years ago:
Tamsen Olivia Freelove Jones. Yikes!
Teena Bean (just sounds weird)
Peter Lapin (Lapin means rabbit in French)
Bambi. Yup. Went to high school with her.

You need a license to drive a car, but anyone can have a kid; and they can name said kid anyting they want to

Survivor Waiting Room

At times of high volume at Pseudocity Medical Center the waiting room often seems like a combination of bus depot, bomb shelter, and the morning after a party gone horribly wrong. Regardless of the complaint that brings them in for their non-emergent emergencies one thing is certain: they all know where they are in the queue. Never mind that various posters remind the huddled masses that patients are not treated on a first-come, first-served basis.

It is a high stakes, competitive game that is run in the waiting room; the frequent customers all know the rules and have developed a Survivor: ER mentality. Alliances are developed, a few with outstanding warrants are "voted off the island." They never tire of challenging the system.

On a recent very busy shift, I was in the penalty box (AKA triage box, otherwise known as goal-tending). The truth is, I really like being in triage and would rather do that than anything because it is the shortest possible contact with complete idiots. Also, it is a challenge to get my really sick people into a treatment room ASAP which I sort of enjoy. But I digress.

One of my patients was SICK. Pale, sweaty, nauseous, looked and felt like absolute crap but with pretty normal vitals. He was of the scary category of patients who are Young Enough to Die, so I wanted him back into a room. I got a wheelchair, but he would have none of it, so I explained my strategy in the Survivor: ER game:

"Look, sir, I know you want to be all macho and walk out back, but the truth is the natives out there are pretty restless. Now, I could let you walk, but an angry mob scene would be really bad for business, and they would probably do some serious damage to me when I come back; not to mention IF we even get out of this box in one piece. The only way I can protect you is if you sit in that wheelchair. I know you can't keep up with me walking, and the triage motto is "No One Gets Left Behind". I'll draw their fire: you go in the chair, it's our only chance".

The patient took the chair; his wife was laughing so hard she could barely walk.

Another strategy to avoid the "I was here first" scene is to call a patient from the door and tell them they have a phone call, or that there is some problem with their insurance, or that we made a mistake and they are supposed to be in XRay. We have a non-urgent side that is strictly first come, first served, but for a returning wound check, IV antibiotic etc (and they are nice people who don't deserve to be sitting with the rabble) we can try to expedite their visit. Hey, it makes us feel good, and scores one for us. There isn't much we can control so we take it when we can.