Personal Information

Alright folks, let's get personal. I mean real personal. Like I usually only talk about work stuff or nerdy stuff...but this it going to get deep.

Ready?

I'm a nervous pee-er. Really.

And, storytime. I recently picked up another part time job, and had to do the standard pre-employment drug screen. Knowing that I'm a nervous pee-er I drank approximately eight gallons of water and one cup of coffee prior to leaving my apartment. I was going to waltz in there and pee like a racehorse. Like Secretariat! I was going to be the champion of all pee-ers.

I proudly handed my paperwork to the lady at the window, and she led me to the room of peeing. I signed in all the right places, and boldly took the proffered specimen cup. She gave me the complicated instructions of "pee and don't flush." I nodded assent and walked into the bathroom with the confidence of England circa 1588. Mind you, the door must remain slightly open and the lady must check the crapper afterwards to ensure no shenanigans.

When I sat down, it all went to hell in a handbasket. As soon as my cheeks touched that throne of porcelain, I knew...I had to poo. Not even like a semi-need to poo. It was an "if I attempt to pee AT ALL I'm going to christen this toilet instamediately."

This breaks all drug-screen codes of honor, all protocols of yellow gold, all processes of elimination.

I was...in deep shit. What to do?! Say I couldn't pee, to avoid the humiliation of dropping the kids off at the pool and everyone knowing? Try to poo with the stealth of a ninja and pray for the elusive Ghost Poo? Let it rip and revel in the glory? Or poo and pretend like I had no idea how it got there? It was an agonizing, prolonged decision. The lady knocked on the door at one point to make sure I was still alive. Sadly, I had been trying to will myself to disappear away, but it hadn't happened.



So I bore down and made the decision. I went for the "poo and pretend like it never happened" option. If I act like there is no poo in the crapper, can the lady really call me out on it? Truth is, I was never going to manage a pee without the poo, and this screen was necessary. So I committed.

AND IT WAS A MIRACLE! The heavens opened up and smiled upon me, God took pity on my plight, and I was blessed. Blessed with the Ghost Poo! Like it never happened! Ah, life is good. I then proceeded to pee and finished that drug screen like the champion I know I am.

However, I can't help but wonder...does my good fortune mean that someone, somewhere, will attempt a discreet poo and be struck with the Newton's Third Law Poo instead? Will they drop a bomb so loud that everyone knows it happened? I can only speculate. And if it does happen...to you, stranger, I am sorry.

***
And while we are on the subject of peeing, I give you this:

Anticipation

As I walk into the trauma nursing station at 7pm, the doc looks over and groans. "Ugh, you're up here again? You're such a shit magnet."

Thanks, doc. Although...he was right. It was a hot mess of a night.

Unfortunate

It's bad to drive when you're so sloshed you can't stand up straight.

It's really bad to hit a parked car when you're so sloshed you can't stand up straight.

It's extra bad when that parked car you've just hit (while sloshed and unable to stand up straight) belongs to the cop that just got out a minute ago to ticket someone else.

It's even worse when you don't just hit that parked cop car, but go all out and total it while flipping your car.

Oh, but it's the worst when that cop happens to be the city police chief.

And when said police chief asks you in the ER if you think your alcohol intake has affected your driving tonight, and you respond, "oh no chief, I've driven way worse than this before."

Yes, you're fucked.

Change up, part deux

New Nurse Insanity: The Adolescent Years

Hmmm. We'll give this new blog title a whirl, and see if I like it. Feel free to keep up suggestions!

A short lesson in texting

Our ER sends out mass texts when there is a need for staffing. As with any texting, there is a limit to the number of characters that can be sent at one time. I woke up the other day to this message:

Hi everyone! Will have needs for tonight, 3p-7p and 7p-7a. Please call! D is in charge and requests your ass

I can only hope they meant to complete the message with "isstance."

Change up

New Nurse, in the hood isn't quite a new nurse anymore. She's looking for a blog name change...which got me thinking. I'm not quite a "new" nurse anymore either. I'm definitely not yet an experienced nurse, but I guess I'm past the newbie stage.

So I'll join the blog name changeapalooza. Any suggestions?

Awkward

I tell ya, there is really nothing like wearing a brand spanking new set of scrubs to work, and having your first patient be an ortho requiring much splinting. Forty minutes and a lot of plaster later, and I'm covered from head to toe in splashies.

Including my boob.

Yeah, I accidentally leaned too close and an armful of plaster smacked right into the 'ol funbag. Good times. Especially since I had to walk around the next 11 hours looking like I just had a toss in the hay with Dr. Gypsum. I'd tell you that everyone respected me and politely ignored the mildly awkward situation, but that would be a total lie...

Busyness

Look, I know you're really busy, sitting there with your iPad. That email is really taking up a lot of time and I understand that you've had a lot of patients tonight. It's that witching hour too, so I know you're kinda sleepy and 0430 isn't a good time for thought processes. That's probably why you wanted to discharge this dude right away. And believe me - I tried. I went in there all gung ho with my discharge papers and to-go pack of meds.

But when a patient, who happens to be of the right age...and with the right medical history...and is an extensive smoker...and hasn't seen a doc in six years happens to tell me that he is having new onset crushing chest pain with radiation to the left arm...I don't give a shit if you're fake busy and don't want to do any more work ups tonight. I'm going to ignore the grumbling I can hear under your breath regarding my seeming inability to be firm with a discharge. I don't care if you give me the evil eye when I smile and hand you the EKG. I really couldn't be bothered if you're annoyed that I made you get back up out of your chair to go see this patient again.

Because that EKG I handed you had some tig ol bitty tombstones on it, and that patient did not pass go and did not collect $200. He went straight to the cath lab.

And that is why I don't care what you think about me.

Shock

I've seen and heard some awful things in my twoish years in the ER. Child abuse, nursing home patients all but abandoned by their family, a little kid crying over their dead parents after a horrific accident, the mishap that ends up being murder...I've seen a lot. Most of it doesn't surprise me; but every now and then something happens that really makes me wonder how humanity is going to survive. Are we really this cruel on a daily basis?

We've had a recent string of unbelievably bad car accidents, where people come in so jacked up it's hard to believe they're actually alive. The other night, another MVA rolls in and we get four or five patients from it. All but one were minimally hurt - scrapes, a broken wrist, that kind of stuff. The last one...he won't ever be the same person. If he survives the long recovery process, that is.

Suffice to say, the accident was life changing for the one patient and a nuisance to the rest of them. I'm one of the nurses taking care of the real bad patient, and I'm standing at the charge desk for a second to sign for the blood products that we're massively transfusing while this guy is trying to die. One of the other patients was getting a portable XR, so the family had been kicked out of the room for just a second - and they are in the next room to the bad patient. The curtain is closed, but they can hear what is happening. They can see the dozens of people involved. I then overhear one of them griping about the accident: "I can't believe that guy was so stupid. He wrecked that motorcycle, and my girlfriend had to slam on the brakes and someone hit her from behind. That fucker wrecked and now her head hurts. I hope that gravel tasted real good; he deserves it."

No. No, no, no. I wished I could have violated HIPAA in every way and dragged this ass into the room. I wanted to shake him, and point at the kid dying and say really?! This guy wrecked his motorcycle because someone ran a stop sign and hit him. This kid is dying. If he survives, he will never walk again. Your girlfriend has a sore lump on her head and this patient is forever changed. No one deserves this. Ever. I wanted to yell at him, snark at him, hit him, or something.

But I didn't. I got my blood products, and went back into the room, and continued trying to help save this patient's life. Because that is what this patient really deserved.

Are we really that cruel? Yes. people are.

Ninja what.

OH. MY. GOD.

I have discovered the utter amazement that is American Ninja Warrior on TV.

This could be epic.