The Body Bag

In the past, we have been known to place a body bag on the bed with a sheet over it when a code with a long down time is coming in. It facilitates movement of said body to the morgue.

In the last few months, every time we place a body bag on the bed, the patient gets pulses and a pressure back.

They can be asystolic for 30 minutes when we move 'em over, but by god, the body bag brings 'em back.

I think we should incorporate this into our ACLS protocols.

PS: I've made "Not dead yet!" and "I'm getting better!" jokes twice in the last week. Once, one person got them. It's a travesty. Monty Python should be required viewing during ER orientation.

Forgive

I'm a bit burned out at the moment.

As soon as I can turn all of my gripes into something entertaining instead of something whiny, I'll post them for your reading pleasure.

In the meantime, I'm just going to sit here and hate my job.

Normal MG will be back soon. I hope.

True Dat.

Quotes of the Week

From the drunk schizophrenic chick as I straight cathed her for a urine sample, "Oh, hell no, you bitch! Get out of my mother f&%$ing bladder!"

From the gang-banger who had a run-in with Sumdood when he was out just minding his own business with his buddies: "Oh, man! My momma's gonna kill me when she finds out I got shot again!"

From the sweet little old lady with the complete heart block who couldn't even sit up without becoming symptomatic: "I hate to be a bother for you girls. I'm sure sorry I couldn't wait to go to the doctor in the morning."

People are funny.

Well, that felt good.

I'm sure you all read about Joe Snow. A gazillion of you linked back, and a bunch of you donated.

We made $1100.00.

In increments of 5.00, 10.00, 20.00, even 50.00 and 100.00, you guys donated to the kids of a perfect stranger, just because it felt like the right thing to do.

Thank you.

I talked to one of the event organizers on Friday, and you could hear the gratitude in his voice over the phone line.

To them, it was a windfall.

Though I would have loved to have made thousands of dollars, I had realistic expectations, and you even surpassed them a little.

Again, thank you.

My readers ROCK!

Paul

Let me tell you about Paul.

Paul is one of the providers in my ER.

Paul is brilliant medically (or so I've heard).

Paul looks 16, drives a Corvette, and if he didn't wear that bizarre green and pink striped shirt, would be pretty good looking.

And he makes me absolutely crazy. On so many different levels. Some of them too disturbing to relate here.

Even worse, Paul reads this blog. And Paul wants to be on the blog. So every time he does or says anything within earshot or eyesight of yours truly, he follows it with, "Are you gonna put that on your blog?"

The answer is always, "No, Paul, you're not funny enough for my blog."

Until the other night when Deborah Peel came in. She's a regular, comes in about twice a month for various psych issues. This time, she was just drunk. REALLY drunk. Almost .400 drunk.

Paul saw/treated her. Obviously, she wasn't going to be sober enough to go home anytime, oh, this week, so he signed her out to the next doc. I was in her room redrawing her ETOH level when he stuck his head around the corner to say goodbye. To me or Deborah, we'll never know.

Because he got a devilish gleam in his eyes and headed into the room with his arms spread wide, saying, "Deborah, honey, I'm leaving now, can I give you a goodbye hug?"

Did I mention that Deborah is about 100 years old, toothless, and stinks to high heaven?

She said, "Hell yeah, baby, you can give me anything you want, you sweet little thing! You're CUTE!"

Hug happened, my eyes burned, laughter exploded, and Paul left. At which point, Deborah looked at me and said, "I wish I was going to remember this in the morning. He's sure a cutie!"

As I walked out of the room, she said, "Hey, why don't you write down his number for me so I can have it when I wake up. I won't know where I got it, but I'll still have it!"

If I'd known his number, I think I might have.

Cats and teeth

Last summer I caught my cat chewing on my toothbrush. Apparently I'm not the only one who ever has.

Joe Snow: When your job is more than just a job

It was a dark and stormy night.

Actually, it wasn't storming anymore; the heavy storms of the previous day were gone. And it wasn't dark yet. It was a warm evening after a hot day, and a group of kids were swimming in a creek to cool off. But the creek's current was too strong to be safe, and two of them were washed away, over a dam that used to run the old mill on the banks nearby.

Members of the local EMS Emergency Response Team rushed to help. They did all of the things that they had been trained to do. Yet somehow, in the middle of it all, something went terribly wrong.

Two rescue boats capsized in the churning waters, and four men went into the creek. They were caught up in the undertow caused by the water falling over the dam, and by the time they made it out of the water, one of them had been under for over 5 minutes.

He was pulseless and apneic when they pulled him out, but they managed to get pulses back and got him to the hospital.

Where he died 3 days later.

Joe Snow was 32 years old. He left behind two young sons.

Now I can tell you for fact that Joe wasn't thinking about his own safety at any point of that failed rescue. He was focused on the two boys that had gone over the dam. They were the important ones. He was there for them, because that was what he did. He wasn't there because it was his job. He was there because that was what he did. He helped people. And they needed his help.

I've been there. I've realized after the fact that while I was helping someone, I could have died. I was standing 3 feet from a burning car with a nearly dead baby in my arms, because that was what I did. And it was worth the risk.

But I didn't pay the ultimate price. My family didn't pay the price. Joe did.

I'll be honest with you; I didn't even know Joe Snow. I only read about his life, and death, on the internet, after talking to a friend of mine that used to work with him.

But I've been a part of the EMS family. I may have traded in my jumpsuit and boots for scrubs and Crocs, but I still know what kind of a person risks their life to try and save someone else's. I've worked with those people. I still do.

So when my friend asked me to mention Joe on my blog, I had no problem doing so.

His boys are 7 and 9 now. And they don't have their Daddy anymore. For the last two years, his EMS buddies have held a benefit Bass Tournament with proceeds going to the boys.

I would very much like to help, too. I get 500 hits a day on this blog. If everyone donated only $5.00, we could raise $2500.00. A little more, and we could raise a little more. Spread the word, and we could actually make a difference. 97.1% will go to Matthew and Michael. PayPal charges 2.9% and I don't have any "administrative costs".

Sometimes a story just touches you, and you want to be a part of it. Please be a part of this.


UPDATE: MonkeySister found this link to the local EMS Department that sponsors the event. Thanks, Sis!

TOTAL: 1100.00 as of 4/25/08
***********
Most of the articles that I read were subscription only from the local paper where this happened, so I can't link them. But here's a couple of articles about the storms that hit in May of 2006 and another of the multiple rescuers that were involved that night.

Happy Blogiversary to me!

Musings of a Highly Trained Monkey is one year old today!

Let's celebrate in the comments section:
Tell me if I SUCK or if I ROCK.

I'll keep track and let you know what the final tally is.

****UPDATE****
Apparently the fibromyalgeurs were all hanging out in the ER yesterday, because none of them were on the internet trolling my blog. Consequently, I ROCK! Yay, me! Thank you for all of your ego-stroking words of confidence. And EE wins with her "paper" comment. Though Platy's "the rocks are taking it in a landslide" was a close second.

.....but I bet she's the life of the party!

Deborah Peel came in by EMS last night because she overdosed on her prescription medications. She was fairly somnolent, but arousable enough to answer some of our questions. Here's how the first part of her triage went:

Triage Nurse: "Deborah, what did you take?"

Deborah Peel: "Ambien...."

MonkeyGirl (to the other nurse beside me): "So she's gonna be sleepy...."

Deborah Peel: "Phenergan..."

MonkeyGirl: "And she won't be pukin' on us..."

Deborah Peel: "Mirapex..."

MonkeyGirl: "Holy Hell, get the restraints, quick before she starts gambling and having illicit sex!!!!!"

Seriously, if regular doses cause such things to occur, what does an overdose do?!?!?!?!?

A little retraining is in order

Remember these thermometers?

We now use them almost exclusively, because our good Welch-Allyns have all disappeared. Each one comes with five probe covers. So every fifth patient gets a free thermometer.

One of our techs was observed using one on multiple patients- sans probe cover- and wiping it off with an alcohol prep in between.

I only hope he was just using it orally.

FedEx screwed up and I got a post out of it!

Remember this guy?

Today FedEx delivered my $300 telescope lens to him, and his box of cool shit from NASCAR.com to me.

I coulda made the driver take care of it tomorrow, but MonkeyHusband was having a stroke. So I trotted my fat ass down the street to retrieve said lens.

His wife, kid, and house are quite normal-appearing.

Huh.

It's scary how easily NASCAR rednecks can infiltrate the general population.......

A scary thing just happened....

I just pulled this picture up at the nurses' station.......... and nobody got it.

Of the 10 people (of varying ages) that were sitting here, there was only one other person that knew what it was referring to.

I know that there are people in the world that don't find Monty Python as funny as I do, but I never thought I would be surrounded by them in the ER!

Gack!

Air Freshener for the Mind

And just as good as a nice smelling patient is a nice acting patient. When there's a polite, educated patient in the department, we all want to go talk to them. It's like Brain Bleach. It makes all the bad stuff go away.

Of course, I usually just want to find out where they're from. Because it sure the hell ain't HERE!

Air Freshener

It's so nice when a patient comes in smelling of soap or fabric softener or something that indicates a sense of hygiene is present. (No, bathing in cheap body spray doesn't count.) Everybody wants to take care of the good-smelling patient. He had more nurses in and out of his room than anyone else in the ER.

Though, to be honest, a lot of it was to escape the nasty smells that permeated the rest of the department. BO and colostomy oozin's don't really make for a pleasant environment.

The Six Word Memoir Meme

AD tagged me with a meme, and we all know how I love memes, so here it is.

The Rules:

1. Write your own six word memoir.
2. Post it on your blog and include a visual illustration if you want.
3. Link to the person that tagged you in your post and to the original post if possible so we can track it as it travels across the blogosphere.
4. Tag at least five more blogs with links.
5. Leave a comment on the tagged blogs with an invitation to play.

I came up with two, and I couldn't decide between them, so I'll post them both, and those of you that know me, (as well as those of you that think you do) can decide which is better.

1. Too smart for my own good.

2. I only pretend to not care.

**********************************

I'm tagging this time, because I'd like to see how creative some of my favorites can get with six words.

I hereby tag:

Whitecoat,
911Doc,
GuitarGirl RN,
Scalpel,
and
EE.

I expect you all to play. Don't make me come over and beat you.
************************

This picture was taken by a good friend of mine while we were doing one of about ten 3-day EMS stand-bys at a wildfire in California almost 10 years ago. We staged at a monastery (with real monks!) in the mountains along the coast of Highway 1 north of Big Sur. The bench I was sitting on overlooked the ocean, and when the smoke and fog didn't obscure the view, it was spectacular. I've never been paid so well to be on vacation before or since. Though it would have been nice to be able to take a shower.....

Reality Check

It has been pretty busy in our psych annex lately. We have a normal capacity of 4 beds, and we can stretch it to 5 if we need to. We've had at least 4 full every night that I've worked this week, and when one leaves, somehow another knows to come take their place.

Last night was particularly hectic, with a lot of screaming, throwing things, leathers, and Tasers. (In case you're wondering, when the cops outnumber the nurses, that's a crazy night.)

After we finally settled down the inmates patients clients, the previously suicidal drunk in bed 1 looked up at me with stone-cold sober eyes and said, "When can I get out of here and away from these crazy people?"

Which is more disturbing?

The 14 year old that gave birth to a baby in her school bathroom and then killed it trying to flush it down the toilet,

or

The pregnant transgendered man that used to be a woman that was on Oprah?

WTF is this world coming to?

New Scrubs; or, That Damn Cat!

Meet Hobo. Hobo's been tossed around a bit, and now he's landed at my house. Here are the facts of the matter, in no particular order.

• I'm allergic to cats. Especially furry ones. I'm back to taking a Benadryl chaser with my Flonase cocktail every morning.
• The Fibromyalgia cats are confused as to why there is a ball of fur trying to play with them while they are trying to sleep. (He apparently only needs 21 hours of sleep a day, as opposed to their 23 hours.)
• He likes the brat. He'll let her play with him for hours, and he sleeps on her bed.
• I have to vacuum 3 times a week now. My socks have furballs on them.
• My scrubs are navy blue, and MonkeyHusband's are black. It takes 10 minutes to de-fur ourselves to go to work every night.

I've decided that I'm going to replace my navy blue scrubs with some nice, new, don't-show-cat-fur ceil blue scrubs. So imagine my glee to get an email from a place that I actually shop, wanting me to put a link on my blog!

I bought all of my current scrubs, as well as MonkeyHusband's, from Scrubshopper.com last year. Their prices are as good as anywhere else (better on some sale items), and their customer service is great.

And they have these, too. And these.

So click on the logo above, or over on the sidebar, and go check 'em out. You can get 10% off if you enter Coupon Code SSBLOG10 at checkout. Cuz Scrubshopper luuuurves them some bloggers!

You're welcome.

Funniest thing I saw today

Courtesy Marko.

Pretend I wrote this.

I could have. But I didn't. It's as good as if I wrote it, though. Probably better. Yeah, better.