...a horrible, painful death, losing my hair and my boobs and puking my guts up, and there's nothing I can do about it.
Well, if that's the case, I'm done with my diet, effective immediately.
Skinny and dead ain't any better than fat and dead.
There are many people that shouldn't be allowed to procreate.
Some of them need to have painful things done to them until they die. These ones in Detroit and these ones in Texas are at the top of my list right now. (I nominate CrankyProf to come up with the punishment. Her ideas are always so, um, colorful.)
But sometimes, the stupid ones actually fix themselves. And we can breathe a sigh of relief while simultaneously wishing that more of the ones that shouldn't be breeding, weren't breeding.
Well, it's only two days into the challenge, but 911Doc is properly utilizing the shift key with great skill.
Apparently he's adopted a special new motto, as well; this just arrived in my inbox.
The accompanying message was in aLteRnatiNg cApiTal and loWercAse lEtteRs. My eyes may uncross before Christmas. Or they may not.
Irony is a very powerful thing.
The irony of people who can't even take care of themselves having children has the power to infuriate me.
The irony of children keeping their parents alive much longer than they should and then not taking care of them has the power to make me cry.
But sometimes irony has the power to make me laugh in devilish delight. This is one such situation.
There is a serious underestimation of the importance of poo.
Lack of poo production can make you cranky. It can make you tired. It can make you sick. But cranky, sick, and tired are one thing. What about dead?
If you're schizophrenic, and you take clozapine, your bowels can become so impacted that you vomit your own poo, aspirate it, develop pulmonary edema, and die.
No poo=death.
What if you're smuggling drugs? Once you swallow that balloon, you have set in motion a cycle that is beyond your control. The only way you can make any money off those drugs is if you can take a poo. These guys learned that lesson the hard way.
No poo=death.
Edith Rodriguez took too much Vicodin and did too much meth, and she died. From the official Coroner's Report:
"This 43-year-old Hispanic woman died as a result of consequences of a perforated focal colonic diverticulitis. Autopsy findings show a megacolon/pseudo-obstruction associated with the effects of recent prescription medication intake. Methamphetamine use was also a contributory factor to her final demise."No poo=death.
I admit it.
I'm a Grammar Nazi.
If you think that there is nothing wrong with the sentence, "Hey MonkeyGirl, that patient in Room 20 needs triaged," then you, too will suffer my wrath.
I also can't stand it when people use the wrong "your" or "to", or the misuse of 's.
And spellcheck exists for a reason, people.
When PEOPLE TYPE EVERYTHING IN CAPITAL LETTERS, I FEEL LIKE THEY ARE YELLING AT ME THROUGH THE COMPUTER. Probably because all of the ass-chewing memos we get from our nurse manager are in ALL CAPS.
but i have to say that one of the most annoying things on earth is 911doc's inability to use the 'shift' key in the comments section. i'm fairly certain that he does it intentionally, because it not only makes me insane, it drives nurse k crazy. and we have mentioned it to him too many times to count.
So it is with great joy that I announce the possibility of a serious win-win situation for MonkeyGirl. This is what was said today in the comment thread of my last post.
There you have it. If this plays out, I'll get a reprieve from 911's annoying typing habits, and Crass-pollination will be back! Oh happy day!Nurse K said...
911--Here's a deal I'm willing to make. Starting from Saturday (tomorrow) until next Saturday, if you consistently use the shift key appropriately as well as appropriate punctuation, I'll come back to blogging. If you agree and succeed, it's a deal. What do you say? Otherwise, if you stay with lower case letters or slip up even with one comment, I'll just keep putzing along as I was previously planning, perhaps returning in 2008, perhaps not.911DOC said...
It's a deal. I didn't know I didn't punctuate well though! Maybe I'll just be quiet for a week?Nurse K said...
Nope. That's cheating. Lack of regular commentary will be judged as apathy toward the cause. I was only saying punctuation needed to be good because I wanted to prevent a situation where you'd fix the lower case letters and, instead, rattle my chains by goofing up the punctuation instead. Don't worry, if there's a missing comma here or there or whatever, I won't freak out. Your first comment is excellent. You're well on your way to crass-pollination again.
911DOC said...
Thank you Nurse K.
Nurse K said...
Since you've accepted, I will now open my blog with "the challenge" on there. All these people who keep emailing and demanding to read my archives can be satisfied in the meantime.MY OWN WOMAN said...
I miss Crass-pollination. I punctuate appropriately most of the time and I use the shift key correctly. I think "mass punishment" is wrong and just because 911 doc is bad, that doesn't mean the rest of us who try to be good little boys and girls should be punished. Mr. 911 doc, please be a good boy so the rest of the world can live better via Crass. Thank you.
Nurse K said...
Feel free to alert 911 if he accidentally leaves a lower case comment. He can always delete it before I find it.
I'm thankful that my mommy not only still loves me, but she still speaks to me after all the crap I put her through during my "rebellious" stage.
I'm thankful that I have a sister that has no problem using her uterus for something other than decorative purposes, so that I didn't have to produce any grandchildren for my parents to spoil.
I'm thankful that my husband not only cooks, he does the dishes.
I'm thankful that I have a sister who remembers all the same bizarre things about our childhood that I do. Reminiscing is much more better when the other person isn't looking at you like you're crazy because they don't recall whatever weird occurrence you're talking about.
I'm thankful that even though I only call my brother when I want something, he still answers the phone and helps me with whatever my "tiny problem" is.
I'm thankful that all of the things that I bitch and moan about are trivialities. Some people have real problems.
I'm thankful that I'm getting paid time and a half right now to do half as much work because it's Q-U-I-E-T.
I'm thankful that I'm not a vegetarian. What's the point of Thanksgiving without turkey?
I'm thankful that all of the PRN nurses that never work anymore (see my rant about that here)have to pick up shifts during the holidays. It's nice to have the A-Team back, even if it's only for 8 hours. Especially when the head-on MVA with 4 serious/critical patients comes in. Besides, everyone needs a smack on the ass and a "Good game!" every once in a while.
I'm thankful that nobody puked, peed, or pooped on me last night.
I'm thankful that the neuron that fires when it's time to use the turn signal is functioning in my brain. So many people in this world are missing that neuron. And they're always in front of me.
I'm thankful that 911Doc uses the 'shift' key in his posts, even if he can't figure out how to use it in the comments.
I'm thankful that I'm not a Notre Dame fan.
What are you thankful for?
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| You scored as Batman, the Dark Knight As the Dark Knight of Gotham, Batman is a vigilante who deals out his own brand of justice to the criminals and corrupt of the city. He follows his own code and is often misunderstood. He has few friends or allies, but finds comfort in his cause.
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My aunt is a nurse in Bangladesh.
She has been there for over 30 years.
God's obviously not through with her yet; she made it through Cyclone Sidr.
Many thousands were not so lucky. And the death toll is not the only tragedy. There are many thousands more injured, and the homes and livelihoods of millions were destroyed.
If you are the sort that prays, please add Memorial Christian Hospital in Malumghat to your prayers. Because the thought of trying to provide medical care in a third-world country after a killer cyclone makes our healthcare mess seem sorta insignificant.
....and there are plenty of both floating around here today.
Apparently, I have upset a migraineur.
My opinion is that the family of Edith Rodriguez is not entitled to millions of dollars for her death, because though it is a tragedy that she died, her previous drug-seeking behavior was a major contributing factor in her death. I think that one of the reasons that our healthcare system is floundering right now is that there are a whole shit-ton of people with a huge sense of entitlement and absolutely no sense of personal responsibility.
I can back this up with a anecdotal evidence from a minimum of 20-25 patients each night in my ER. (Note I said minimum.)
Did I say that everyone on state-funded medical programs is abusing the system? No.
Did I say that drug-seekers never need legitimate medical care? No.
Did I say that she deserved to die just because she had been drug-seeking on previous visits? Nope, not that, either.
But apparently, a clairvoyant migraineur named Linda (since she left her name, I can't call her an anonymous troll, though she exhibits the behavior of an anonymous troll) has deduced -from the things that I didn't say- that I am "unfit for medicine as a career" and that my opinion is "is not the response of a professional person who is dedicated to healing nor, frankly, is it the response of a person with normal emphatic[sic] capabilities."
And with her incredible clairvoyant abilities, she has also figured out that "You obviously have allowed the job to beat those things out of you and have become so cynical that you can’t even see it."
But the best part was when she told me "You are the first and only person I’ve ever told to get out of medicine."
*sigh*
You're right, Linda. I am a horrible person. In fact, it's a wonder that I can even look at myself in the mirror in the morning after a long night of abusing patients with "migraines" that "just need some of that Dilaud-stuff."
I do terrible things to them the whole time they are in my ER. Things like *gasp* turning out the light, and *swoon* getting them a cold washcloth for their face and a warm blanket. You know, just in case they really do have a migraine. Since I know what it feels like, being a migraine sufferer, myself.
You seem to have a lot of anger, and some other issues as well. "I couldn’t care less if you think I’m one of “those people” but I have been treated terribly and dangerously in the ER on two different occasions precisely because I said the word “migraine” in triage even though I have never asked for narcotics nor do I want to be treated with them. I have a family member who has a prescription for Vicodan[sic] and if I wanted to I could take them by the bucket full…I don’t because I’m not a drug addict and they don’t work for my migraines…Imitrex does, but sometimes I run out and become incapacitated. I have had a “doctor” try to give me an injection of a painkiller I’m allergic to because he did not read the chart—because he decided ahead of time that I’m one of “those people”.
I have never referred to anyone as "those people". Generally, if I'm referring to a group of people, I will be a bit more descriptive. For example, "Soul-Sucking Drug Seekers" is a term I would use to describe...... wait for it.... soul-sucking drug seekers.
Went to the optometrist yesterday. My vision is getting worse again, not better.
Had to get glasses for driving.
My eyes are f****d up enough that he called the surgeon to see what to do.
Back on steroid drops for 6 weeks.
New eye drops at night before bed, too.
Oh, and 1000mg of Vitamin C a day. Talk about nasty flashbacks from my childhood. Blech!
If they're not better in 6 weeks, I may have to go do this all over again.
I'm going to be sulking for a while. Don't be offended if you don't hear from me.
I found a link in a comments thread over at MDOD (thanks Brian and Jennifer). Go check out this news story about the abuse of the EMS system in Cleveland.
I'm not in Cleveland, but I swear I've seen every single one of those patients.
And I doubt if even 1/10th of the ER abusers call EMS. So multiply the BS by at least 10 and there's a night in my world.
Jeez. No wonder I don't have a soul. It's been sucked out by the losers and freaks.
Question: What do you hear immediately prior to hearing, "POP! SNAP-SNAP-SNAP-SNAP! THUD!"
Answer: "Go ahead! Taze me! I can take all four of you motherf****rs!"
*sigh*
If ever there was a candidate for social diagnostic intubation, it was this guy.
Two things I heard on ESPN this weekend:
Last night on SportsCenter, the sportscasters were discussing various games while a Marine stood on each side of the broadcast desk, like a pair of bookends. One of said sportscasters went to the commercial break saying, "This is our show. There are many like it, but this one is ours."
Today, at some point between the sadness of Michigan choking and the joy of Ohio State choking, I heard someone say, "Maybe if they played Coast Guard , Notre Dame could win against an Armed Forces team."
My mom lives in the Republic of California. I live much closer to the other coast. If I don't call her at least twice a week, she worries that I'm dead or something. (Side note: When you're 1/3 of a century old and your mother still ends every conversation with some variation of, "Stay out of trouble," you've been in trouble too many times.)
I called my mom yesterday and she said to me, "I can't talk right now, dear, I'm watching the Osmonds on Oprah."
It's not enough that I have to have to fight my sisters for "Top Daughter on the Totem Pole" honors, now I have Oprah and the Osmonds to contend with.
I can't beat Oprah.
*sigh*
Damn Oprah.
An 80-something year old man came in for the second time in a 2-week span.
He was from a local nursing home. He was pretty much out of it.
He had aspiration pneumonia. Again. From his PEG tube (or more accurately, from the improper use and care thereof).
Son was at bedside. Nice man. I remember him from the first visit. Very polite, very caring. He sat there the whole time his father was in the ER.
Dad has a DNR, signed in 2005.
Right under where the "Do not resuscitate/Do not intubate" box was checked, another box was checked, also.
Betcha can't guess which one it was, can you?
Yup. The "No feeding tube" box.
Disregarding your father's wishes so that you can keep him around longer isn't the act of a loving son. It's the act of a selfish one.
Family of woman ignored at ER files suit
Perhaps a better title would be "Drug seeker dies after crying 'wolf' too many times; Family thinks that they are entitled to millions because ER should have known that this time was the time that she was actually sick"
This bullshit makes me vomit.
A friend just e-mailed me a great Halloween joke, and if I wait until next year, I'll forget. So pretend it's Wednesday night, not Sunday night.
**************************
A bald man with a wooden leg gets invited to a Halloween party. He doesn't know what costume to wear to hide his bald head and his leg so he writes to a costume company to explain his problem. A few days later, he receives a parcel with the following note:
Dear Sir,
Please find enclosed a pirate's outfit. The spotted handkerchief will cover your bald head and, with your wooden leg, you will be just right as a pirate.
Very truly yours,
Acme Costume Co.
The man thinks this is terrible because they have emphasized his wooden leg and so he writes a letter of complaint. A week goes by and he receives another parcel and a note, which says:
Dear Sir,
Please find enclosed a monk's habit. The long robe will cover your wooden leg and, with your bald head, you will really look the part.
Very truly yours,
Acme Costume Co.
Now the man is really upset since they have gone from emphasizing his wooden leg to emphasizing his bald head so again he writes the company another nasty letter of complaint. The next day he gets a small parcel and a note, which reads:
Dear Sir,
Please find enclosed a bottle of molasses and a bag of crushed nuts. Pour the molasses over your bald head, pat on crushed nuts, stick your wooden leg up your ass and go as a caramel apple.
Very truly yours,
Acme Costume Co.
Grand Prize:
Woman with the .395 BA, when asked, "How much have you had to drink tonight?": "Oh, about as much as any other regular
motherf%&#r, I suppose."
Honorable Mention:
Confused LOL, whenever her BP cuff inflated: "There goes my sister puttin' the voodoo on me and squeezing my arm. She always was jealous of me."
"Picture This" of the night:
Room 1- 500 lb Caucasian man with fever and SOB.
Room 2- 500 lb African American man with CP and SOB.
At the same time.
We have a regular. She's a few fries short of a Happy Meal. Actually, she's short the most of the hamburger, too. And the drink.
She's one of those people that you'd like to feel sorry for, but she irritates the holy hell out of you, which effectively cancels out the sympathy factor most of the time. And she has a beard. Which is kinda scary.
Her schtick is to pretend to OD on her meds so that they'll send her off to one of the psych facilities for a few days. She's lonely at home, and when she's an inpatient, she gets some attention.
It's getting harder and harder to find placement for her, because chronic fake suicide attempts are apparently only covered for a finite number of times, and she's approaching that number. But, sad as that is, it's not the story.
She's been in twice this week.
The first time, it was a typical visit. "I took too many of my pills." Only this time, Nurse Ratched, my most favoritest co-worker ever in the history of the world (except for Nonchalant Nurse Who's Seen and Done Everything, of course) wasn't having any of that.
NR: "No, you didn't."
Bearded Crazy Lady: "Yes, I did."
NR: " No, you didn't."
BCL: "I did. I really did!"
NR: "Bearded Crazy Lady, you always say that you took too many of your pills, and we always test your levels, and they're always normal. Your vitals are perfectly normal, and you're not acting the way you would be acting if you had taken what you said you've taken. So, again, no, you didn't."
BCL: "Yes, I did."
"No, you didn't," "Yes, I did," ensued for several cycles. I'm pretty sure Nurse Ratched would have kept it up for hours if the Doc hadn't come in. She seemed to be enjoying herself.
Anyway, end result was the same as usual. Normal drug levels, monitored for however long we usually monitor her, shipped away for a 72 hour hold. Diagnosis changed from suicide attempt to suicidal ideation.
Fast forward 4 days. (For those interested in doing the math, that's 72 hours + transportation home + a couple of hours to realize that she's still lonely.)
EMS brings in BCL for yet another possible OD. Only this time she's tachycardic, lethargic, and adamant that she didn't take anything. Nurse Ratched is working again, because, well, that's all she does. She'll be dead of exhaustion before she can make it to retirement.
Nurse Ratched: "BCL, what did you take?"
BCL: "Nothing. I didn't take nothing."
NR: "Precisely my point. If you didn't take nothing, then that means you took something. So what did you take?"
BCL (with a look of confusion, as the logic escapes her): "Nothing! I didn't take nothing!"
NR: "Yes, you did."
BCL: "No, I didn't."
NR: "BCL, you come in here all the time saying you took too many pills, and your vitals are always perfectly fine and you're acting normal. Tonight, your vitals are all cattywhompus and you're slurring your words, but you say you didn't take anything. I think you're lying."
BCL: "No, I'm not! I didn't take any pills!"
NR: "Yes, you did."
BCL: "No, I didn't."
Again with several cycles of "Yes, you did," "No, I didn't." This time, Nurse Ratched wasn't enjoying the exchange. But the irony didn't escape us.
In any case, she did, in fact, take too many pills. She was admitted for observation, and then shipped away for her 72 additional hours of attention.
We should see her again at the beginning of the week.
**Disclaimer: I am not making fun of psych patients in general, nor am I saying that there are not people who legitimately need help. I am merely making fun of this particular person, her abuse of the system, and these particular visits.
On the phone: "I have some warts, um, you know, down there where warts don't belong, um, and I need to get rid of them before my boyfriend sees them. If I come in, can you, um, freeze them off or something?"
To the retard in the 500-year-old Hyundai in front of me:
If you are attempting to merge onto a freeway with a speed limit of 70 MPH, and the on-ramp is 1/4 mile long, and you can only make it up to 50 MPH by the time you get to the freeway, you are a danger to yourself and those around you, and you should never drive on anything but surface streets.
Thank you, that is all.
