Tiger's Christmas card photo

My Dad is great for many reasons, one being that he sends me emails like this:



All I'm sayin is...had Tiger cheated on me, I wouldn't be holding that club anymore because it would be embedded so far in his nether regions it would be invisible.

Enabling

"I have cramps and I have endometriosis really bad. I get percocets for the pain. My pain is a 10/10 right now."

I see. So what did you take for your pain today?

"I took a tylenol yesterday, but they don't never work."

Apparently that bag of cheez-its you're plowing through at 0300 isn't helping either. Face, meet palm. I should also mention that she was wearing skinny jeans and 5 inch heels, texting the entire time, and sucking down a pepsi like it was the last one on Earth. Oh, and had visited the ER six times in three months for cramps...that math just doesn't add up.

Without hesitation, the PA wrote her a prescription for to-go 5 percocet, plus a script for 14 more. For. Cramping. I called the PA up and told him I wasn't giving it. He could if he wanted, but I wasn't doing it. After soundly berating my decision, he ended up giving her the discharge stuff and doing the teaching himself.

Whatever. At least when she comes in at the age of 35, cracked out and addicted to all sorts of painkillers and whatnot, my conscience will be clear.

Blogging is a lifesaver.

So I'm a new nurse. I often feel overwhelmed, wonder what the heck I'm doing here, and wonder if I'll ever be smart enough to be a good nurse. I get sick of the stupid people, and often want to tell people it's their own stupidity that has made them sick. I want to really tell it to the drug seekers. I want to stay home some days. I want to go home some days in the middle of the shift. Some days I think to myself, "I'm never coming back."

But then I go home and blog about it, and it's all better. And I owe it to Nurse K!

I started reading her blog way back in the dregs of nursing school, got inspired to start my own blog, and when I read this post I thought, "well played, shrtstormtrooper. Well played."

Experienced nurse to new trainee: "Just to warn you, this job will beat you down. You'll be tired, you'll not want to come some days, you'll question if you're really cut out for this, SOBs and drug seekers may even make you spiral into a depression that you can't explain. It's okay, I'm your preceptor, I'll help you through it."

I just wanted to say 'if the shit is getting you down, start a blog and never, ever tell anyone about it ever even if you're the 3rd most popular nursing blogger in the country.' ;-)

Maybe one day my blog will be just as popular. And no one at my job will ever ever know about it!

******
Is it too soon to joke that GM is on the fritz?

CNBC: General Motors CEO Fredereick "Fritz" Henderson to resign

Say Eight!

Brian Regan. Funny. Watch it.



Go ahead, merge.

Hearts

A patient I was taking care of recently asked me how long I had been a nurse. I most always try to downplay the question because sometimes people get uneasy with an experienced nurse - and sometimes rightfully so. Usually I'll tell people, "I've been here almost a year," which while is completely true, sort of sounds like I've worked somewhere else, too. Most people are satisfied with that answer; some are not. This patient was of the latter group, and asked me when I graduated school. I told her and then waited for the inevitable comment about the obvious new nurse-ness, something glaringly obvious that I missed which pegged me as inexperienced, or even something negative.

Instead of something negative, she mentioned that I had been very sweet to her, and remarked that even with my new nurse-ness, she appreciated the care I had given. She mentioned how a lot of her nurses had been crusty and mean and impatient, but that I had been very pleasant and willing to listen to her complaints. I thanked her, then jokingly replied that I haven't been a nurse long enough to be heartless yet.

She says, "you nurses never lose your hearts, you just learn to protect them better."

A very interesting perspective, I must say.

Physics is fun!

The LHC is back up and running! I was excited about this a year ago when I blogged about it, and I'm still excited. Mainly because I'm a giant nerd, but also because it's really cool.


Beams of protons circulating at nearly the speed of light and then smashing into each other? Awesome. Learning more about the Big Bang (or Horrendous Space Kablooie, if you will)? Awesome! Giant superconducting magnets operating at almost absolute zero? 0°Kelvin? -459°F? Um, awesome!

But I digress. And even if you're not interested in any of this, I'm sure you'll be interested to know that even with the powering up of the LHC and the potential black holes created and subsequent end of the world, we can check to make sure we're okay with just one little clicky.

Go ahead. Clicky Linky.

I can die happy

I saw Star Wars in Concert tonight.

Star Wars. Big Screen. Lasers. Full Orchestra. Anthony Daniels in person!

Sweet mother it was awesome. It was 24 years of Nerd-dom finally come to fruition. It was glorious!



You're jealous, I know. Or maybe not. I don't care either way, because I saw it and it was awesome and if I kick the bucket tonight, I'll die happy!

You want some more? Okay. I can't resist anyway...

Somebody get this girl her kidneys!

I am shamelessly reposting this from Movin' Meat because It. Is. EPIC!

-The boy in bed twelve ate pop rocks and coke.
-F**K! We don't have much time!

See more funny videos and funny pictures at CollegeHumor.

We've lost them. All of them.

This is so glorious I watched it multiple times. And then a few more. Thanks, Shadowfax.

Cause?

New(er than me) Nurse: Her sats were 95% room air earlier in the day, and then just a few hours later they were 60% on a mask and she had to come here. Her lungs were clear on the first check, can sats really drop that fast?

Old Grizzled Nurse: Depends on how heavy the pillow is.


I almost choked on my chicken noodle soup. I love night shift.

Shrtstormtrooper, the Barbarian

Sometimes it's hard to watch tv marathons throughout the night without getting crazy ideas. It's even harder when the marathon show in question is Mythbusters.

I stayed up late tonight so I could sleep most of the day today, and of course I ended up staying up all night. Fortunately Discovery Channel had a Mythbusters marathon on. Usually Adam and Jamie admonish us with the warning of "don't try this at home!" but today they encouraged me to go ahead and try. And who am I to argue such scientific reasoning?

The myth in question was whether or not two intertwined phone books (no glue, no rope, no brace of any sort) with actually hold themselves together against a lot of force. For the record, they can withstand 8000 lbs of pressure. In case you wanted to know.

A little side challenge is what piqued my interest, though. Can you rip a phone book in half? Surely not! Ah, but wait, says Adam. I followed his directions. I found a phone book in my drawer. And BOOM. Look what I can do!


I feel like the Hulk!

Excuse me while I whip this out

While sitting through a staff meeting today and listening to the management discuss the changes to come, this is all I could think of:



Methinks it's pretty close to the truth...

Deep rooted issues?

I had wickedly crooked teeth as a kid, and my parents forked out the money to get me braces. Which is something I'll be eternally grateful for, without a doubt. Unfortunately, visiting the dentist once a month for two years has left me with an ever growing fear of that metal instrument-welding spawn of Satan.

Well, maybe "Spawn of Satan" is too harsh. My dentist was actually a super nice guy, and I went to him (very sporadically) even after I turned 18 and was too old to go there because he still gave me stickers and a new packet of floss each time. I even went back to his office to get XRays for both of my wisdom teeth removal adventures.

Somehow though, through the years of endless fittings and metal mouth and snapped wires and bleeding gums and wisdom teeth removals, I've slowly become terrified of going to the dentist. I'm not really sure why; I think it might be the sounds and the smells and the tastes and the dislike of having someones fingers in your maw and then they ask you a question and chuckle when you "aaahh mmmnnnii eehh" your Baleen whale response. So really, it's everything.

Thus, I haven't been to the dentist in years. I've lost track, but I think it's probably 4 or 5 years since I've gotten a flouride treatment, good cleaning, or filling. Even the thought of sitting in that chair gives me chills now. I am seriously scared to go see one. Like, numbing, paralyzing fear. I can't even watch oral surgery on tv, and I normally love blood and guts and gore and watching those televised OR cases.

Today, while brushing (and flossing, thank you very much) I was pondering the state of my teeth and decided that I really do need to see a dentist. I'm 24 years old, own a new car, rent my own apartment, have a career-type job, and pay for my own health insurance. I should be old enough to make my own dental appointment, one would think. So I gave myself a long pep talk about the benefits and necessity of regular exams. I thought of my friend AB from nursing school who is also a dental hygienist, who reminds me often that I need to get my butt in gear. I thought of the likely cavities lurking in my mouth, and how I don't want my teeth to fall out and I should take care of myself better. Man up, I told myself.

Seriously, my pep talk lasted a good 20 minutes. I finally Googled some dentists around here, picked a decent looking one, and held my cell phone with the number dialed in for a solid five minutes before I pressed send.

It rang, and rang. And rang.

And then it dawned on me.

Today is Sunday.

Sunday.

Frick.

It might take me another year or two to work up the courage to try again...

Nausea leads to...

So I had multiple patients tonight tell me, when describing their symptoms, say, "Lady I ain't right, I been VOMICKING all night!"

Vomicking.

JHC, if you're going to try and BS me into believing you're about to sprout a tail and hooves, at least say the damn words right.

People piss me off. Poor spelling and grammar piss me off even more.

Vomicking!? I'm still effing annoyed at them...

"Lando gave some tips while we were talking..."

OH SWEET MOTHER THIS IS GLORIOUS!



So glorious it deserves an all-caps introduction!

"You're fat, so start running"

That's the name of my iPod jogging playlist. Every time I sit on my couch and open iTunes, that title stares back at me. I choose a song, and then minimize the screen so I don't have to look at that little nagging title anymore. I'm not even fat, I'm what I'd call "soft." I've always been small, but there isn't an ounce of fitness in me anymore.

The Fabo often tries to entice me into running things with her. "It'll be fun," she says. "You'll get free beer afterwards!" "You can even get a t-shirt!"

But she can't fool me. Running is like death warmed up, and actually paying to run in a public place is just outrageous. You may recall last year when she tried to sucker me into running a half marathon with her. I grudgingly agreed, and ran a few times to try to shape up. And then the Fabo hurt her foot, and couldn't run the race. I was devastated. Or not. Mostly because it was really cold outside, and I am lazy. So that race didn't happen, and I was okay with that.

And so it goes.

And then this morning the Fabo says to me, "Look! A five-miler! And look at that sweeeeet shirt you get with it!"

Maybe because I've been up all night with insomnia, or maybe because I'm feeling guilty for not seeing Fabo more often...I said yes.

Sigh. So I'm running a five miler in the middle of December. What, oh what, have I gotten myself into? Unless of course, she manages to have a Naked Hugh Jackman placed at the end of it for me like I have requested...in which case, I will gladly run all day just to get a piece!