I'm having LASIK surgery tomorrow morning. Between the freaking out today (big time) and the recovery tomorrow, it'll be a couple of days till I come back. I hope you don't become too hyposarcastemic in the meantime. I'll overdose you on Thursday, I promise.
Thank God for science. We have a definite shortage of the important things in life. Like schizophrenic mice. I can sleep so much better now.
It's not an uncommon occurrence for us to only have one or two rooms with fully functioning cardiac monitors and working equipment on any given night. We spend a ton of time stealing pieces from one room for the room next door, and then trying to find somewhere to steal more for the room that we stole from to begin with. It's a vicious cycle.
But last night, I had an equipment malfunction that was so unexpected that I stopped for about 3 seconds in complete shock before my brain started working again.
I was hooking up the new patient in bed 4 to the monitor, having stolen the 3-leads from bed 3 and the BP cuff from bed 5, and as I reached over the back of the gurney to hook up the O2.......
...... the underwire of my bra got hooked on the bed's IV pole (which was obviously not fully extended) and as I stepped back, my boobs popped out like a can of refrigerator biscuits when you pull the pull tab.
Now, I don't mean all the way out, there was still a scrub top between the girls and the world, but my underwire was stuck, and by default, so was I. So I wiggled a bit, and stood up on tip-toe, and just about when I was about to cry from embarrassment because I was going to have to ask for help getting free.....
....the damn IV pole finally released me. At which point I had to get the girls back in their flopper stopper without flashing the little old man who might not have been having an MI prior to getting here, but sure the hell was going to if I fell half naked in his lap!
So with a shimmy and a tug, I got 'em back inside the headlight hider, and after I finished getting him settled, I ran for the can like I had a case of Cranky Prof's ass-plody so that I could adjust them correctly.
I can honestly say I now feel sorry for those girls that have their boobies pop out on the dance floor. It is not an experience I'd care to repeat.
I submit for your vote the following:
Obnoxious drunk MVA refusing to cooperate with anything; which is the most satisfying- the punitive 14 gauge or the punitive 18 French?
(And any of you who might feel the urge to respond with some comment about punitive procedures being unprofessional, shut the hell up in advance. They were both clinically indicated.)
There have been several posts lately about one of my personal pet peeves.
GruntDoc started it, and Scalpel wins my "Analogy of the Year" Award.
Look at the bright side. It's job security...... Until the hospital goes under.
.....have compiled a story entitled "Perspectives", a three part story written from three different points of view. "The following events are not fictional, but they may have happened at different times, with different patients, at different places. Each one of the authors has had patients just like these, in situations just like those described. If you want to know what it's like to live a day in the life of an ambulance driver, or a small town cop, or a small town ER nurse, join us for the story. It's the same story. On the same night. With the same people. "
Go read Matt's part first. Then swing by and read Ambulance Driver's. And then read Babs' finale.
It's enthralling reading. Keep the Kleenex close by. Especially for the end of Babs' part.
You guys are fantastic. Thank you.
What Color Crayola Crayon Are You?
Nurse Secrets Vol. 1 is Vivid Violet.
You'll see why.
I Am That Person is Mauvelous.
Because any nurse that does what she does is just that. Marvelous.
Why Nursing Ratios Are Failing Patients is Unmellow Yellow.
Anything that fails patients is unmellow.
How the Other Half Lives is Jungle Green.
Sometimes it's a jungle in the ICU; perhaps we should remember that before we eat each other alive.
Yeah, That's What I Do is Eggplant.
There's more to this job than meets the eye.
The Devil Gives Coumadin is Radical Red.
He is the Devil, after all.
What the Shadow Knows is, well, Shadow.
Duh.
Whatever Happened to IM Injections? is Cotton Candy.
That's what pain meds seem to be to some people these days. Candy.
Seeking Words of Balm is Cerulean.
That's the color of tears. Take a Kleenex with you.
The Circadian Rhythm Caper is Fuzzy Wuzzy Brown.
If you're a night shifter working day shift, fuzzy wuzzy is exactly how you feel.
The Alzheimer's Patient is Purple Heart.
For courage.
A Golden Moment is Sunglow.
That sweet feeling when you've helped someone.
Psychobabble is Screamin' Green.
What other color could Psychobabble be?
Helloooo, Nurse! is Shocking Pink.
Because it's always more fun when it's shocking.
Have You Saved Anyone's Life, Dad? is Bittersweet.
Sometimes, even when you love your job, you reach your limits.
Alternative Reality is Tropical Rainforest.
I think that's where magic water comes from, isn't it?
Hangman is Midnight Blue.
Oh how I wish I had nights like this.
Top Ten Hospital Medications of all Time is Wild Watermelon.
Because I already used Cotton Candy.
Please Don't Try This At Home is Granny Smith Apple.
The voice of reason speaking out, just like my Granny used to.
Machine Mambo is Shamrock.
Because with a little luck, Hannah will go to sleep tonight.
Talk to Me is Outer Space.
That is where you go under anesthesia, isn't it?
Preparing For the Battle: Nursing School! is Atomic Tangerine.
Hey, if you're going to have a battle, I say take a big weapon.
The Collar on the Shirt is Sunset Orange.
At the end of the day, sometimes all you need is a good compromise.
Stroke Centers; Marketing or Medicine? is Green.
For the color of money.
Trusted Professions is Royal Purple.
Selflessness breeds trust.
Working Memory Training from a Pediatrician Perspective, Focused on Attention Deficits is Wild Blue Yonder.
Because that's where my memory and my attention usually go on a regular basis.
Dumb Day and Disc Decompression of Delaware is Blush.
Because it's a bit embarrassing to be caught in a lie....
The Charlie Weis Malpractice Saga and The results are in! is Manatee.
Sorry. He just looks like a big old manatee.
12 Reasons Medical Tourism is So Popular is Caribbean Green.
Having your hip replaced while on vacation seems so win-win....
The Best Drug Treatment Programs is Inchworm.
Sometimes, recovery moves about that slow.
**************
And that wraps up this edition of Change of Shift. Thanks to everyone who played; you sent in some great posts.
I'd love to wrap this up with something original and witty, but frankly, Blogger's been kicking my ass for about 4 hours now, and I just need a beer. So I'll leave you with this.
Three nurses went to heaven, and were awaiting their turn with St. Peter to plead their case to enter the pearly gates.
The first nurse said, "I worked in an emergency room. We tried our best to help patients, even though occasionally we did lose one. I think I deserve to go to heaven." St. Peter looks at her file and admits her to heaven.
The second nurse says, "I worked in an operating room. It's a very high stress environment and we do our best. Sometimes the patients are too sick and we lose them, but overall we try very hard." St. Peter looks at her file and admits her to heaven.
The third nurse says, "I was a case manager for an HMO."
St. Peter looks at her file. He pulls out a calculator and starts punching away at it furiously, constantly going back to the nurse's file. After a few minutes St. Peter looks up, smiles, and says, "Congratulations! You've been admitted to heaven ... for five days!"
It's nice to know that it's not the Bacon Cheeseburgers making me fat, it's my friends. Now I'm going to get rid of all my friends and go to Sonic by myself. In fact, since I won't have my friends there making me fat, I can have the Oreo Blast, too. Thank God. I was wondering what I was going to replace my Diet Dr. Pepper with, you know, since it's all unhealthy and all, now.
Just recently, I had the dubious pleasure of taking care of a late 40-ish woman who had an O2 sat of 36% with a corresponding pulse of 140 on both the sat monitor and the cardiac monitor, and perfect capillary refill. 15 liters of O2 via NRB brought her up to 90% within a couple of minutes. She walked in. Only complaint besides SOB was a little weakness. Go figure. She ended up on Bi-Pap, with a dx of pneumonia. 36%. I shit you not. No diaphoresis, color was good, no confusion, just a little tachypneic (34-36). Of course, she was running a temp of 102. Her blood was HOT when I put it in the tubes for labs. Kinda neat.
Also just recently, I helped out with a 28 year old chick with a 3rd degree heart block. Let me tell you, I was a bit surprised when I hooked up what we all thought was going to be a bullshit chest pain chick to the EKG and saw complete AV dissociation. That bought her a trip to the Big Cardiac Center in the City. Sheesh. She'll go through a couple of pacemakers before she dies- the batteries only have a lifespan of about 10 years, right?
I have pretty good perspective. I've worked in nursing homes, on ambulances, in the lab, on med/surg, in the step-down unit, and briefly in CCU prior to my "stick" in the ER. I've been on both sides of most of the battles, and the battles are the same, though the fighters change.
I'm of the opinion that the biggest reason we fight amongst ourselves in the hospital (and pre-hospital, too) is simple lack of perspective. If we knew how it was on the other side, perhaps we would be a little bit more accommodating, and less critical. There have been a lot of posts lately about this, but two of them really caught my eye, and I think you should go check them out.
May at about a nurse very eloquently shares the med/surg perspective.
And Miranda5 at O Brave New World reminds me quite effectively of what it was like to work as a unit secretary. *shudder of horror with thumb sucking*
There are a couple other viewpoints coming up in Change of Shift; make sure to check them out. And if you have submissions, please get them in by tomorrow.
Thank you, that is all.
After their 11th child, an Alabama couple decided that was enough, as they could not afford a larger bed.
So the husband went to his veterinarian and told him that he and his cousin didn't want to have any more children.
The doctor told him that there was a procedure called a vasectomy that could fix the problem but that it was expensive.
"A less costly alternative," said the doctor, "is to go home, get a cherry bomb, (fireworks are legal in Alabama) light it, put it in a beer can, then hold the can up to your ear and count to 10."
The Alabamian said to the doctor, "I may not be the smartest tool in the shed, but I don't see how putting a cherry bomb in a beer can next to my ear is going to help me."
"Trust me," said the doctor.
So the man went home, lit a cherry bomb and put it in a beer can. He held the can up to his ear and began to count.
"1....."
"2....."
"3....."
"4....."
"5....."
At which point he paused, placed the beer can between his legs and continued counting on his other hand.
If you sign up for an overtime shift at the beginning of the month, and the shift isn't until the end of the month, and you don't remember that you signed up for said shift until a couple of hours before it starts, and you don't get a nap, and your plans for the night have to be cancelled......
You are guaranteed to have a shitty night.
Overheard in the "Doctors' Area" of the nurses' station:
Dr. A: "She's whiny and manipulative, this is her third visit this week, her med list is as long as my arm, she's allergic to everything but Dilaudid, her pain is always 10/10, and she 'thinks she might have fibromyalgia'".
Dr. B: " Tell her that she needs to follow up with her PMD to manage her pain. Fibromyalgia is a long and complicated diagnosis to reach. We can't do it in the ER."
Dr. C: "That's not true. I can diagnose fibromyalgia in the ER. Go pump up the blood pressure cuff. If she cries, she has fibromyalgia."
.....if you kill a child in this manner, you should have the same thing done to you.
I believe there is a special place in Hell for people like this.
"Namonya"
She was an 18 year old female. She was right. She had it.
I told her that in honor of this occasion, that is what she should name her first born daughter.
She looked at me like I was crazy and told me she already had two daughters.
Then I remembered where I live.
I went to the bathroom finally at 0200 (I swear my bladder holds at least 1500 cc's). When I was washing my hands, I glanced in the mirror and realized that I had a booger in my nose. Not huge, but not small. Definitely visible.
Not one of my co-workers had the balls to mention it to me.
For future reference: If I have a booger in my nose, please tell me. The desire to melt into the nasty ER floor from embarrassment is not something I'm comfortable with.
This one put tears in my eyeballs. This is one reason why I live across the country from all my loved ones.
Dear God,
Please let the Harry Potter Fanatics read their books quickly so I don't have to hear about it anymore.
It's a book, people.
Yes, I like Harry Potter.
No, I'm not dropping 25 clams to read a book in a day.
It's a book, people.
It's not like knowing the ending is going to ruin your life.
It's not like it's going to have any effect on the real world.
It's a book, people.
There's millions of them out there.
Please stop talking about this one and just go read the damn thing.
Thank you,
MonkeyGirl
Dear God,
Please let Barry Bonds hit 3 more home runs quickly so I don't have to hear about him anymore.
I just want him to go away.
Thank you,
MonkeyGirl
I'm a bit of a Tour de France freak. MonkeyHusband's fault.
Anyway, if you don't watch cycling (which is all of you), then you don't know that Alexander Vinokourov's chain snapped in a freak accident in stage 5. He went down hard, tore up both his knees, an elbow and a hip. Then he got back on his bike and finished the stage.
That night he went to the hospital, got his knees and elbows sutured, and afterward, hurt so bad he couldn't walk out of the hospital.
The next morning, he got on his bike and took a 124-mile ride through the foothills of the Alps. What did he do the day after that and the day after that? He proceeded to climb the Alps on a bicycle. With his torn up knees and hip and elbow.
And when he's hurting so bad that he wants to cry, what does he do? He drops back to the doctor's car, and they give him some Motrin. Because he can't take any pain meds or he'll have to drop out!
How many of you have had a patient request Lortab and a work note for a headache? Or a hangnail? Or a sore throat, for crying out loud? I have. Pretty much every day!
Freakin' pansies. We need to re-do the pain scale.
"On a scale of 0-10, 0 being no pain, and 10 being Alexander "The Freakin' Stud" Vinokourov riding over the Alps with torn up arms and legs, how would you rate your broken fingernail, you drug-seeking leech?"
And there will be no work notes. Pansies.
*This post was edited to make my mommy happy. Please mentally replace the "freakin's" and the "pansies" and such with the correct cuss words in order to fully appreciate how strongly I feel about this. Thank you.
So this 32-year old crazy guy in Colorado said that he was "the Emperor" and tried to take over the Governor's office.
Got shot dead by a state trooper. "Trooper Jay Hemphill, a 12-year member of the state patrol, shot Snyder twice in the head and once in the chest, officials said."
I'm impressed.
I'm hosting Change of Shift here next week- send me your submissions at ermonkeygirl(at)hotmail(dot)com or through the Blog Carnival. No particular topic. Everything's welcome. Within reason. You know, medical-ish.
PS: I'm having performance anxiety. Please get your entries to me by 8 PM on the 25th so I can have some time to tweak if necessary. Thanks.
Shadowfax has "The Weirdest Damn Thing I've Ever Seen" over at Movin' Meat.
Wish I'd been there.
This specifically made me think of my sister, but I know there are many of you out there that will get a kick out of it.
(Thanks DW!)
The CDC says that the problems with the healthcare system can be solved by medical professionals starting their education all together, "to foster cooperation and a sense of common mission."
So after the nurses finish their 2-3 years and move on, 10 years later, when the docs get out, we'll all have a big sense of family.
Of course, many of us that work in the trenches together already have a sense of family, and it had nothing to do with where we went to school, nor will it solve any of the problems in healthcare.
In fact, the people that are in the trenches, who already have "cooperation and a sense of common mission", are the ones whose ideas are being ignored when it comes to healthcare reform. You know, because they're not politicians, and all. Because they're busy working. In our broken system. Drowning in the liquid crap that is JCAHO and such. I'm just sayin'.
Brandon Reed, 22, of Hamilton, Ohio, was electrocuted while trying to steal the copper from power lines.
If you ruin the lives of a couple of old people by screwing them out of their house with a clerical error, shouldn't you be responsible for fixing it?
Energizer to buy Playtex for $1.16 billion
"For a tampon that keeps going, and going, and going......"
I was looking at the World Wildlife Fund website the other day (because it has cool pictures, OK?) and I had a thought about another endangered species that hasn't gotten much press.
You've all probably heard of it: the North American Turn Signal. Closely related to the Japanese Turn Signal, and the Korean Turn Signal, this elusive beast was once seen on all of America's open roads. But due to the overall decrease in common sense and courtesy across the country, sightings of the Turn Signal are becoming more and more rare. Ironically, the Running Red Light is becoming much more common, with increased sightings every year.
Especially where I live. In front of me. All the time. Jackasses.
"This award should make you reflect on five bloggers who have been an encouragement, a source of love, impacted you in some way, and have been a Godly example to you. Five Bloggers who when you reflect on them you get a sense of pride and joy… of knowing them and being blessed by them.”Here are the rules for this one:
Our Pharmacy is down in the basement. I usually take the stairs when I'm going down to pick up meds for a patient, but I just didn't feel like it tonight. As I was waiting for the elevator to come down from the 3rd floor, a 50-ish gentleman walked past me and opened the door to the stairwell.
I glanced up at him and realized that I was waiting for the elevator while a man with one leg, on crutches, just went up the stairs.
I took my fat ass down the stairs.
A friend of mine emailed me the "Knick Knack Patty Whack" joke. I haven't read it for a while, but it always makes me laugh, so I sent it on to my daddy.
He responded with just one line; "Pardon me Roy, is that the cat that chewed your new shoes?" It was enough. I had the tune from "Chattanooga Choo-Choo" in my head all night long.
Today he cemented his win in the corny joke-off with this email:
After Quasimodo's death, the Bishop of the Cathedral of Notre Dame sent word through the streets of Paris that a new bell ringer was needed. The Bishop decided that he would conduct the interviews personally and after several applicants demonstrated their skills, he had decided to call it a day.
Just then, an armless man approached him and announced that he was there to apply for the bell ringer's job. The Bishop was incredulous. "You have no arms!" "No matter," said the man. "Observe!" And he began striking the bells with his face, producing a beautiful melody on the carillon.
The Bishop listened in astonishment; convinced he had finally found a replacement for Quasimodo. But suddenly, rushing forward to strike a bell, the armless man tripped and plunged headlong out of the belfry window to his death in the street below.
The stunned Bishop rushed to his side. When he reached the street, a crowd had gathered around the fallen figure, drawn by the beautiful music they had heard only moments before. As they silently parted to let the Bishop through, one of them asked: "Bishop, who was this man?". "I don't know his name," the bishop sadly replied "....but his face sure rings a bell."
(Ba-dum-bum)
The following day, despite the sadness that weighed heavily on his heart due to the unfortunate death of the armless campanologist, the Bishop continued his interviews for the bell ringer of Notre Dame. The first man to approach him said, "Your Excellency, I am the brother of the poor armless wretch that fell to his death from this very belfry yesterday. I pray that you honor his life by allowing me to replace him in this duty."
The Bishop agreed to give the man an audition and as the armless man's brother stooped to pick up a mallet to strike the first bell, he moaned, clutched at his chest, twirled around, and died on the spot. The monks, hearing the Bishop's cries of grief at this second tragedy, rushed up the stairs to his side.
"What has happened? Who is this man?" the first monk asked breathlessly. "I don't know his name," sighed the distraught Bishop, "...but he's a dead ringer for his brother." (Ba-dum-bum)
This just goes to prove that my retarded sense of humor is genetic.
I overheard a couple of the docs joking about Fentanyl Lollipops tonight.
Laughing Doc: "How many licks does it take to get to the center of a Fentanyl pop?"
Laughing Harder Doc: "One, Two, Three...*crunch*. Three."
Amanda over at It's All About the Walls (her subtitle is "...there is no way to viably paint your house with explosives..." *snicker*) nominated me for the Power of Postitive Schmoozing Award.
Any time I get nominated for anything, I think, "Nah, not me." But I'll play. Cuz I know real Schmoozers.
I believe that this says it best: “As it goes, schmoozing is the natural ability 'to converse casually, especially in order to gain an advantage or make a social connection.' Good schmoozers effortlessly weave their way in and out of the blogosphere, leaving friendly trails and smiles, happily making new friends along the way. They don’t limit their visits to only the rich and successful, but spend some time to say hello to new blogs as well."
Now, I am, shall we say, socially retarded. I'm brutally honest and I don't think before I speak. That's why I love the internet. I can (and do, on a daily basis) read the comments I've typed, decide they're retarded, and not hit the "publish this comment" button.
But some people manage to comment all over the blogosphere almost every day, and never sound retarded. I envy them. They are truly the Schmoozers. And these ones are the ones that Schmooze with me the best.
Mielikki at First Do No Harm is like that friend who calls you every day just to say hi and make you smile. Plus her blog is great. (I almost comment on it all the time. Sometimes I actually click the "publish" button.)
Joeymom at Life With Joey is the reason I don't strangle my stepdaughter. She is my calming influence in the stormy life that is pseudo-parenthood. Her insight (and comments) are like a big cyber-hug.
Nurse K at Crass-Pollination not only schmoozes with me, she schmoozes with the big dogs, and sometimes, when the big dogs take exception to her schmoozing, she takes out her huge brass balls and bashes them over the head with them. We should all take notes.
AD already tagged Loving Annie, but that just proves she's a great schmoozer.
OK. That's all the schmoozing I can do for now. I'll swing by everyone's blogs and (maybe) comment a bit later.
Not literally, thank God.
But at 2000, there were only 7 patients on the board, and the waiting room was empty. That is very bad ju-ju. I thought to myself, "Self, this could get ugly." It did.
At 2300 EMS started coming in. No quality, just quantity. 3-4 at a time quantity. For several hours.
At 0100 I had to decide: Scarf dinner while it's hot and then risk losing it when I put the Foley in the Land Whale in bed 7, or do the Foley first and risk losing my appetite. (I scarfed first. It stayed down. Barely. Yuck.)
At 0300 I made my 3rd trip upstairs to CCU in as many hours.
At 0500 I sat down. Which reminded me that I had to pee. When I got back, I no longer had time to sit down. Oh well. I got to sit on the toilet for 45 seconds.
What a crappy shift.
If you are born without fibulas, and your legs are amputated, and you not only learn to walk, but set World Records in Paralympic events, and you want to try your skill with the able bodied runners out there, even though you are a tad slower, we might let you, but we'll have to think about it. After all, you might have an unfair advantage.
Give me a freakin' break. I have to admit, though, I really liked the part about how the only reason he started running was to treat a rugby injury. No legs, and he plays rugby and runs. That, my friends, is a stud. I know lots of people with two perfectly good legs that never leave the couch.
Change of Shift is up over at NursingJobs.org- Go check it out!
And, get this, I'm hosting next on July 26th! Woo-hoo! So send me your submissions at ermonkeygirl (at) hotmail (dot) com. After you read this week's, of course.
Complete with a set of these-
With the rearview mirror wearing some of these-
And the bumper sporting a pair of these-
Seems as if Osama bin Laden's son got married. Favorite quote?
"Felix-Brown also reportedly says she does not mind that the scrap metal merchant has another wife and a child in Saudi Arabia."
I haven't been on a bus for over 15 years, and this could very well be one of the reasons why.
There's something inherently funny about The Speaker calling George W. a lunatic. "They are the ravings of a lunatic. Tangential, free associating, sometimes almost word salad, the disjointed and rambling mutterings seemed to have the vague purpose of serving as comic disguise for total leadership and policy failure. "
Pot, have you met kettle.....
I know, I know. I was going to stay on the sidelines. I just couldn't. She's too crazy.
....and this big ball of steel jumped in my trunk!
What are the chances of that?
Look at the bright side; if it had hit 'em head on, some of those people going to the hospital via ambulance for their whiplash might actually have needed to go to the hospital via ambulance.
Some days you are the tiger, some days you are Roy Horn....
Meerkats freak me out. I'm just sayin'.
No, you may not bring your CZ next time, dear. Stop saying that so loud or the keepers will have us arrested.
I think this made the trip worthwhile.
(I'm not evil all the time, you know.)
My step-kid makes me crazy. And she's perfectly "normal", (albeit a bit manipulative, thanks to her crazy mother). I don't have any of the "patience genes" that moms are born with.
I read every day about how life is going for Joey (and his mom), an autistic kid I've never met. And posts like this one give me goosebumps. Way to go, Joeymom!
..........I'm just standing on the sidelines stirring the shit.
Nurse K has some fantastic advice for The Speaker For All Nurses today. Go check it out. And be sure to click the links. I promise, it's worth it. Well, unless your sense of humor sucks. But that's your problem.
John Mark Karr, who made what turned out to be bogus claims of killing JonBenet Ramsey, was jailed Saturday in a domestic argument at his father’s house in suburban Atlanta.
Let me share the fun stuff with you.
Officers received a 911 call late Friday from the house about an argument between Karr, his girlfriend and his father.He has a girlfriend? What are you, chick, retarded?
Officers took Karr to a hospital after he complained of chest pains, and took him to jail late Saturday morning.Ah, good old Jail Pain. I see the MI crisis was diverted, as usual.
The nose is an amazing thing. It's like a little tunnel into the brain. Smell a particular thing, and all of a sudden you're awash in the memories of the first time you smelled that smell.
Sometimes it's good.
Every time I smell frying bacon, I think of my Grandma Jo's thick cut, burned to a crisp bacon that is the measuring stick by which I judge all bacon. (No, it never measures up.)
Beef stew in the crock pot reminds me of when I was a kid coming home from church on Sunday afternoon to the same smell, though it was usually pot roast then. (Yes, they smell the same.)
Fresh baked brownies always remind me of making brownie sundaes with my best friend and her mom, a long, long time ago, in a place far, far, away. (Both literally and figuratively.)
One of the Psych guys I work with smokes a pipe. Every time I smell pipe tobacco, I think of my Grandpa. He died when I was 11.
Sometimes it's not so good.
Every time I take a patient up to the ICU, the smell reminds me of visiting my grandma in the hospital. (Though that was also long ago and far away.) Believe it or not, in my brain, ICUs smell like Black Cherry Soda. No, I don't know why.
When I was driving across the country a couple of years ago, I passed a tractor trailer on the side of the road with the cab completely engulfed in flames. The smell of burning insulation and smoke, and the heat from the flames launched me into a flashback to when my house burned down, and I literally had to pull over at the next exit to calm down. (Panic attack while driving = bad)
When someone comes in reeking of marijuana, I always remember the time I was in line for Space Mountain at Disneyland with my friends and some guys behind us were smoking pot. Best Space Mountain ride ever. (The memory is good. The freaks that trigger it never are.)
When someone comes in with a bad GI Bleed, I remember the time I ran a call on the ambulance as a new EMT in the middle of the summer in a tiny mobile home without air conditioning, and discovered that Vicks is your friend.
Whenever I smell Cetacaine, I remember my root canal that I couldn't get done for two weeks, and when the pain got so bad it was making me puke, I would numb it with Cetacaine for a short reprieve. The smell of Cetacaine now makes me puke.
And sometimes, when I roll the LOL from the nursing home to clean up her poo, I flash back to the first time I smelled C-Diff. It's as good as any lab test. (Some of you know what I'm talking about, don't you? You wish you didn't, but you do.)
Just saw a commercial for one of those loan places. Gary Coleman was the celebrity spokesperson.
The APR is 99.25%.
That means that you borrow 2500 bucks and pay back 10,000 over 3 1/2 years.
Or, you could borrow $5000 and pay back $21,500 over 7 years. That's only 60% APR.
Not that I would take advice from Gary Coleman.
Fossilized remains of the mighty Lortabasaurus have been recovered in China; native Chinese villagers have been boiling the bones in soup and grinding them into powder for their healing powers....
If you have had recent hip replacement surgery,
and your hip becomes dislocated when you bend over to pick something up,
and EMS had to give you narcotics just to load you on their stretcher,
and you are lying on my gurney in a horribly contorted position with silent tears coursing down your face,
and you rate your pain as 10/10,
there are two things that you must know.
1. I believe you.
2. You don't need to apologize for being a wimp.
"Hip dislocation" is now located directly below "femur fracture" on my "List of things that I don't ever want to happen to me."
I was surfin' the net tonight at work, and I was on MSN checking out the headlines. So there's a headline that says, "How not to cry when you're at work". First I laughed because of the headline itself. Then I thought, "That is so bloggable."
So I clicked on the link.........................and got the full screen "Access Denied!" error message that our hospital's filter program puts up if it doesn't like what we're looking at.
In other words.... you may not look at this story. We want you crying, dammit!
Al Gore's son was arrested for possession of marijuana, Xanax, Valium, Vicodin, and Adderall after the cops pulled him over for going over 100 MPH in a Prius.
Forget the drugs. How the hell did he get a Prius to go 100 MPH? GruntDoc? You drivin' that baby of yours 100 MPH? My freakin' Accord barely hits 90 before it starts having seizures.
And if Al Gore was my dad, I'd need Xanax and Valium, too.
So I was contemplating.
I usually get an average of about 5 comments on my posts. Unless it's really funny or I really piss someone off, and then I'll get 10 or 12. I'm quite proud if I get more than 15.
If it wasn't for Sitemeter, I would think that I only had about 20 people reading this blog. But Sitemeter says there's anywhere from 500 - 700 during the week, and around 400 on weekends. (That in itself boggles my mind.)
But I really like comments. Even the ones that don't agree with me. Well, except the crayzees. But they usually just go bug Nurse K. And Doc Dino. Anyway, comments make me happy.
But I don't comment very often on other blogs, (though I read a ton of them every day), and I don't usually reply to comments on my blog, with a few exceptions. I figure that I've said what I have to say in my post, and comments are for people to respond to what I've said.
Besides, I rarely check back to the comments I make on other blogs, so I figure people don't check back on their comments here, either.
So what's the common consensus amongst my reading population?
Are more comments better?
Should the blog author respond to individual comments?
Should I comment more on the blogs that I read?
Does the fact that I don't allow anonymous comments cut down on the amount I get?
I'll allow anonymous comments for a bit; tell me what you think.
I'm mostly just curious, but feel free to rant if necessary.
OK. I admit I'm not very ladylike. I don't own a dress. My idea of dressing up is wearing a nice shirt with my jeans. I discuss poo in public. I burp. I scratch things that itch. I talk about the fact that my new scrub tops make my boobs look bigger. I don't follow all the rules of proper social interaction.
I did not, however, realize this:
| You Are 96% Gross |
 Ewwww! You really have some disgusting habits. Now go take a shower... with extra soap. |
I will not be visiting Six Flags Kentucky Kingdom. I like my feet. Well, I don't like them much, but I do like them attached to my ankles.
I will not be going to Boomers. I like to think, talk, walk, eat, you know, all of those things that traumatic brain injuries potentially screw up.
I will not be dropping by Rye Playland. If the people who work there aren't even safe, I don't have a chance.
I don't intend to stop over at Disneyland Paris. Well, mostly because it's in France.
I have no plans to go to Magic Springs and Crystal Falls. Holy Crap! Can you imagine?
Of course, the main reason I won't be visiting any of these places is because I'll be working in our lovely ER for 12 hours, taking care of the drunks who inevitably fall in the firepit, the drunks who burn themselves with fireworks, and the drunks who get beat up by Sumdood. (Sumdood likes the 4th of July.)
Have a good one!
Found this over at The Haversian Canal.
OK, this is the first time I've volunteered for a meme, but this looked fun. Via Babs, RN; post pix of yourself as a wee thing.
I know a certain mother of three who is all up in arms today about smoking. She e-mailed me this article , (which I assumed meant she wanted me to blog about it) with this statement from her:
Tell me again why it's not illegal to smoke at all? It literally kills people... Does marijuana kill people? (Yes, if they are high and try to operate machinery...) I'm so confused. How does a product that's only redeeming value is that it kills people still on the market?There are several things that I think you have to consider with this topic.
Each year, nearly 35 million people make a concerted effort to quit smoking. Less than 7% succeed in abstaining for more than a year — most start smoking again within days.This is consistent with what I have seen. Non-smokers have no idea how hard it is to kick the habit. Addiction is not something that can be quantified, nor does it have an easy solution. That's one of the reasons why so much money is made by smoking cessation products and programs every year.
From 2000 to 2002, the tobacco industry spent around $4 million lobbying in New York State, according to reports filed with the NYS Temporary Commission on Lobbying.I know this is a biased article. But it points out that
Despite the fact that a 2002 poll showed that 84% of New Yorkers surveyed support bills banning smoking in public places, such legislation died in the state legislature in 2001 and in 2002.It does give you something to think about.
Health care costs for smokers at a given age are as much as 40 percent higher than those for nonsmokers, but in a population in which no one smoked the costs would be 7 percent higher among men and 4 percent higher among women than the costs in the current mixed population of smokers and nonsmokers. If all smokers quit, health care costs would be lower at first, but after 15 years they would become higher than at present. In the long term, complete smoking cessation would produce a net increase in health care costs.What does this show? Well, one of two things. Either health care costs aren't a valid reason to call for nationwide smoking cessation, or we should euthanize healthy senior citizens before they start costing us money. I'm fairly certain that euthanization is not a viable option.
This year, about 168,000 cancer deaths will be caused by tobacco. And an estimated 186,550 of the 559,650 cancer deaths expected in 2007 will be attributable to poor nutrition, overweight and obesity, and physical inactivity.So it all translates to job security. The End.
I was at a grocery store where I normally don't shop, and I stopped at the deli for some sandwich fixin's. I asked the Deli Girl for a pound of their best roast beef.
DG: "Which kind did you want?"
MG: "Whichever the good stuff is. I don't know what you call it here." (Mind you, there are no prices or labels anywhere.)
DG: "Well, the expensive stuff is the Angus Roast Beef."
MG: "OK, then I'll take a pound of that."
DG: "Well, we're all out of that."
MG: "OK, then I'll take a pound of whatever is below that."
The long and tedious process of slicing the meat begins. I swear, she weighed every single slice. 10 minutes later, I finally have my roast beast.
DG: "Here you go. Remember, you want to ask for the Angus."
MG: "But you said you're out of it."
DG: "Yeah, we're usually out of it. But that's the one you want."
OK, so I'm remembering why I don't shop here.
MG: "OK. Thanks."
Fast forward a week or two.
MG: "So, what brings you in to the ER tonight?"
DG: "Hey, we got some Angus Roast Beef in this morning."
MG: "Um, OK, did you come in just to tell me that?"
DG: *dumb giggle* "No, um, I have a, um, I, um, have a rash, you know, down there. And I have, um, you know, this um, smelly stuff coming out. "*dumb giggle*
Ew. I can't ever shop there again. Not that I'll miss it, but I just can't go back there now. I'm not even sure she washed my hands before she touched my roast beast. Oh my God. I ate Gonorrhea. Not just any Gonorrhea. A dumb stranger's Gonorrhea. Not that I would like to eat the Clap from someone I know, either. Aw, Jeez.
Dear Mr. Peterson:
Thank you for getting rid of Trent Green.
Please give Larry Johnson a raise. He is the only thing I have to look forward to this football season.
Thank you,
Monkey Girl
PS: Could you rebuild a little faster, please? I can't use that excuse forever.
Mom sues over son’s problem-ridden execution
I think that the family of David Manning should be on the jury for this one.
Two things happened this weekend.
1. Mielikki at First Do No Harm nominated me for a Thinking Blogger Award.
I was actually nominated for this award about a month ago by JerseyGirl, and it kinda embarrassed me, which prompted this post. (Go read it, it still applies.) I'm equally embarrassed by this go-round, but I realized that in order to prevent further occurrences, I must add the award to my sidebar. Let's go back to being mean and sarcastic now, shall we?
2. Ambulance Driver added me to his Blogs I Read Every Day list.
I have been dreaming of this day for over two months. The reason y'all have the chance to sit in awe of my stunning wit and incredible sarcasm is because one day at the beginning of April, after looking at my sister's latest family pictures on her blog, I hit the Next Blog button at the top of the page. A Day in the Life of An Ambulance Driver lit up my screen. This post, in particular. After spending an hour laughing my ass off, I said to myself, "Self, if we weren't married, we would stalk this guy until we were able to kidnap him and spirit him away to entertain us in humorous and lascivious ways. Since we are married, we will start a blog and see if he'll read it." AD, count your lucky stars- you don't have to go into the Witness Protection Program.
You can guess from the title of this post whether it was #1 or #2 that excited me more....
Is there anything quite so lovely as a sunny day, 80 degrees, no humidity, a light breeze....
with the smell of cordite wafting through the air as a 75 grain Hornady bullet strikes the 10 ring 100 yards down the range?
A friend of mine pointed out this article about the rising numbers of ER visits.
The quote that caught her attention was this one: The survey by the U.S. Centers for Disease Control and Prevention also found most people who visited emergency rooms had private health insurance, although the uninsured were twice as likely to use emergency services as people with insurance.
That didn't make sense to me. How can most people that visit the ER have insurance, yet the uninsured are twice as likely to use the ER?
So I looked up the actual report put out by the CDC.
There's a few things that Ms. Maggie Fox at Yahoo!News neglected to mention. She said that The report found that 46 million of the visits made to ERs in 2005 were by people with insurance, compared to 19 million by people without insurance.
She neglected to mention that there were 19 million visits made by people on Medicare, and nearly 29 million visits by people on Medicaid.
With reimbursement rates being what they are, I think that those 50 million people might impact the uninsured/insured issue just a bit.
The article says, "People with no insurance are twice as likely to use the emergency
department as the privately insured."
But according to the statistics, people with private insurance use the ER for 6.6% of their visits and primary care docs for 53.4%, while uninsured people use the ER for 27.8% of their visits and primary care docs for 33.6% . That means that percentage wise, uninsured people are actually four times more likely to use the ER than insured people, and they are nearly as likely to go to the ER as a primary care doc.
There's a lot of statistics that you can cherry-pick to your heart's content. But the underlying message is quite disturbing.
Young woman comes in via EMS @0200.
Not too bright, not too nice, not too clean.
C/O pelvic/abd pain x 2 weeks with vag bleed x 1 week.
Over the course of the next few hours, I obtain samples of blood via needle, urine via Foley catheter, and cervical swabs (no, not from her neck) for GC/Chlam cultures.
She's d/c'd with a dx of UTI and normal monthly menses.
After exiting the ER and climbing into the cab, she climbed back out and ran back inside to tell me, yes, me, "Thank you so much for being so nice to me." She then left again.
Much hilarity ensued. Charge nurse said, "OOOOH MonkeyGirl, she liked you."
Cynical, obnoxious nurse responded with,"No kidding. She let MG get to third base, didn't she?"
Ew. I need a shower.
Shall we die huffing freon?
Perhaps drinking cocaine?
Maybe smoking on oxygen?
What about a little auto-erotic asphyxiation gone wrong?
Or taking down the stage after a Rolling Stones concert?
And it can be dangerous to work at a recycling plant, or a sewage plant!
I guess if you're gonna go, you might as well go interestingly..... The end result does tend to be the same.
| You Are Trinity |
 "Touch me and that hand will never touch anything again." |
