Lemme tell you all, I got my ass kicked two nights ago. Like I didn't sit down for more than three seconds until at least 0500. I had legit super sick patients all night long. I wasn't even in traumas, so they were all sick medical people. When I got home in the morning, I drank a beer and went straight to bed. Saturday night sucked.
So when I went into work last night, I said to myself "self, this is going to be a good night, hear me?"
I entertained that thought until I rounded the corner into traumas, looked into my room, and thought "well fuuuuucckkk. It's going to be that kind of night."
Had it been a STEMI, or trauma, or hell, even a vented OD patient I would have shrugged and said bring it on. No, I got the patient type I hate the most - a trached patient. Trachs are the most disgusting thing on the planet. You've never seen a loogie until you've seen a tracher cough a lung booger all the way across the room. Ugh. Just, ugh. And it wasn't just any trach patient, it was a sick patient.
So whatever, I suck it up and deal. Three hours and much foolishness later, I finally get the patient upstairs. The room gets cleaned, and the EMS radio rings. I answer. Since I've got the only open room now, it's coming to me. And just my luck, it's a friggin trach patient. Again. I haven't had a trached patient all year, and now it's two in a row. My lucky day.
This guy is sick sick. I didn't come out of the room for three hours, and didn't chart a single thing until he had a bed assignment upstairs. Nothing went right. We couldn't get a peripheral line. The doc didn't want to do a central line. The patient fought us - as much as a quadriplegic can put up a fight. He was a DNR but wanted everything up to CPR and intubation done. He was septic. The foley wouldn't pass. His O2 sats wouldn't get above 88%. He coughed a lung booger on me - he somehow got it past his trach mask AND my gown. The nursing home forgot to send his paperwork. The admitting doc doesn't want to come in and see him.
FML. It was awful. He finally gets upstairs, and now I'm home, and it's time for a damn beer. Scratch that, it's vodka tonic time. I'm not getting out of bed today unless the apocalypse strikes. And even then it's debatable.