I failed my pregnancy test

So I had a minor procedure at my hospital today (all is well, I'm fine). Prior to the procedure, I had to take a pregnancy test... and I failed:
By dropping the urine specimen cup INTO THE TOILET.  (Only me, I swear to GOD.)

Luckily, I grabbed it out of the toilet before it went totally under, but all my hard work due to having nothing to eat or drink after midnight the night before (it was 12:15 pm by this point) was GONE! My resulting foul mouthed little outburst was heard by a nice elderly gentleman waiting outside the door, too. Not one of my finer moments.
Just so you know, I did manage to finally get a negative result, incidentally, so my oven is bun free.

Then I was telling a friend about how proud I am to work at my hospital because everyone was just so nice and knowledgeable; it was just a great hospital experience, honestly.  This friend then said to me (regarding my experience), "Well, it's kinda like the Colonel getting the best piece of chicken when he stops in..." What a sweet analogy. ♥ I do think that my hospital really *is* just that good, though. I'd never work in a different one. I am definitely home organization-wise.

The highlight of my day, though was when I was coming out of the anesthesia and the nurse said to me, "Are you having any pain?" and I said, "Yeah, it hurts like fuck." LOL
then 1 minute later, she was coming back with the morphine and I said, "Did I say a curse word? Sorry."*blush*  I heard every staff member within earshot cracking the hell up over whatever shit I was blabbing about to anyone who came near me. It was excellent comedic practice for my hospital stays when I am in my 80s.

So anyway, I'm loving this new J. Lo ass. These butt implants RAWK.

Your mother was a hamster and your father smelt of elderberries!

So it's midnight and I am stuffing my face with sour cream and onion potato chips and I'm on my third blueberry lemonade Smirnoff. (which is deee licious, I  might add).
Two weeks ago the menfolk of my house went away to boy scout camp- leaving my daughter and I to do girly stuff.  Lacking all originality, I decided this should mean shopping, manicures, and dinner.

So we are happily jaunting through the mall when we both spied a book store... not just any book store but a used book store.  This was a gold mine to myself and my word devouring spawn! Used books mean they are cheaper; therefore, we can buy more of them than we had ever dreamed! Among the shelves of well loved volumes of classics (by the way, my favorite classic of the summer is Jane Eyre. I read it over vacation and I desperately want to see the 2011 movie version out on DVD now), my little Bambi legged mini me  fleshloaf and I began using.. wait for it...

British accents.

I really don't know why we did it or what even prompted it, but before we knew it, we were having long, drawn out conversations in the thickest, most obnoxious British accents imaginable. We were giggling incessantly and purposely saying words just to see who had the better accent.

Finally we had our books picked out and I found a treasured Erma Bombeck book. (she was one of my favorite writers because she mastered the art of making a person laugh and cry in practically one sentence. So far, I think i just make people cry.) So we pile up our precious stacks of books and there's a kind elderly gentleman behind the counter. He grabs the Erma Bombeck book and says "You like her?" I said "Oh yes!" (I used minimal words due to him hearing a British accent the whole time I was in there). Then he told me all about how he was at Erma's funeral in Arizona, was a personal friend of hers and her family and how he's "not from around here" then about how she was even funnier in person than in her writing, etc etc.. then he asked, "how long have you been here in the States?" I said in a lowered voice "my whole life.."  He said, "What? But your accent ..." I leaned over the counter, held my hand up to the side of my face and loudly whispered, "..we were pretending.." my daughter LOST IT laughing that I confessed our diabolical ruse to the kindly old gentleman.  He paused for quite a few seconds and looked at me from over the top rim of his glasses and simply said, "Oh Erma would have LOVED you."

I can only hope she would have.  I can only hope.



“When I stand before God at the end of my life, I would hope that I would not have a single bit of talent left, and could say, "I used everything you gave me.”

 Erma Bombeck quotes (U.S. humorist, 1927-1996)

Destined for Greatness

I am going to be the BEST confused, restrained old lady patient EVER.  None of my old people have a fucking clue what year it is, where they are or what they are doing in a hospital bed.  They DO; however, remember what they made for dinner the day JFK was assassinated.  That should really be a routine neuro exam question along with asking patients for name, age, and date of birth because EVERYONE who was alive at the time always knows where they were when Kennedy was assassinated.(although, once I got a look of utter shock and the response "OH MY GOD, KENNEDY WAS ASSASSINATED??")  It's really quite fascinating how the brain consistently messes with people's perceptions of reality; and what sticks with people well into old age.

You know what I hate?  Redirecting people who are REALLY confused. I'm always worried I am going to totally freak them out.  For example; imagine if you thought it was 1955 and you are 10 years old and lived with your parents. (that's a whole other ball of wax, those poor little old people who cry for their parents who've been dead for 20+ years, but I digress).  Now imagine if someone told you that it's not 1955, it's 2011 and you just had a stroke and you can't move your right side...
WTF? I can't imagine how confusing and scary that must be for a person. I never had a class specifically addressing confused or pts with dementia, but I think the general consensus is to reorient and tell them reality.  To that I say BULLSHIT. They will forget what you told them in all likelihood in 5 minutes anyway, why traumatize them for 5 minutes? Over and over and over again.  What the hell good does THAT do? (aside from making them require megadoses of antidepressants) I tell them where they are and that they are safe, etc., etc.  but I never go into great detail, unless they ask.

Anyway, I have decided that due to my extensive experience with the aged and confused population, their overall behavior and unpredictable natures have prepared me for the title of being the ULTIMATE old, confused lady.  I figure, by the time I am in my 90s, shit that I see now will be ingrained in my long term memory well enough that I will be able to remember some pretty fuckin awesome tricks.  Perhaps I will conduct classes on the sly in the nursing home.  Classes like how to:

1. Kiss the hand of the nurse and tell her how much you love her then seconds later begin kissing the call bell and telling IT how much you love IT.
2. Throw your clothes off then pretend you have "no idea what happened.  I woke up and my clothes were all over the floor, can you help me get dressed?"
3. Go for an MRI and cause the nurse to get a phone call from the MRI tech informing her that you (the patient) removed an ear plug and began chewing it like a wad of gum.(needless to say, that MRI will be over before it even begins)
4. How to slide out of restraints of any kind then complain about how "The service in this hotel is TERRIBLE. I keep getting all tied up and no one at all comes to help me get loose."
4.part b. Asking every staff member you come into contact with for scissors.
5. Repeatedly asking "when the hell is this ship getting to port? I'm sick of the ocean."
6. Tell the nursing staff about the ghost that keeps on opening up your closet door and hovering over you. (okay, that one might scare me a little... I don't think there is a patient room in a hospital that someone didn't die in, so that could actually be true)

So you see, I am destined for greatness.  I am learning from the masters exactly how to be the most. awesome. patient. ever. Just you wait and see.

My most dangerous and hilarious patient encounter EVER

Back when I was still a nurse's aide in 2009, I was assigned to do a one to one watch on a prisoner. In case you aren't familiar with how it works, hospitals use their nurse's aides to sit in rooms with people who are in danger of hurting themselves or others. If the patients are dangerous, they are put into 4 point locked restraints in addition to the one to one watch.

On this day in particular, I had a prisoner with a prison security guard with him.  Since the security guard was not hospital staff, they still needed me there.  The prison guard had the VERY IMPORTANT job of reading the paper and ignoring the prisoner while I sat arm's length away from the prisoner and getting cursed at and threatened.  The prisoner also had a penchant for spitting, hence the spit shield (an over the face hood made of black netting).  The prisoner was not only inappropriate and verbally abusive, he was also a bit out of it.  Because of this, he kept asking why my panties were over his face. :/

So, dinner arrives and I am informed by the nurse that I have to feed this guy because if we untie his hands he will try to escape.  I am not happy about this because that means I have to raise his spit shield and very likely be spat upon.  AWESOME. Before I decide to raise the shield, I figured I better be sure the guy was actually.. I don't know.. hungry.  So I look him in the eye and say, (very sweetly I might add), "Are you hungry?" He looks directly into my eyes and says in a gruff, muppetlike voice "Yeah, I'm hungry.. HUNGRY FOR YOUR PUSSY!"
:/

The prison guard heard it and I could tell was about to call him a piece of shit or something and I held up my hand to the guard as if to say "just hold on.. don't say anything".  At that point I removed the lid from his tray, slammed the lid down on his bedside table and said, "WELL YOU ARE GETTING SPAGHETTI AND MEATBALLS." Prisoner's demeanor immediately changed to defeat looked down at the tray and opened his mouth for me to feed him and proceeded to obediently eat his meal with no obscenities or spitting. Then he let me brush his teeth after. (his breath was TERRIBLE). The prison guard could not have looked more proud of me. ;)

P.S.  This is what a spit shield looks like. (and for the record, my panties NOWHERE NEAR that size)

Screw this housework noise

I'm SO getting a maid.  Then you know what I'm doing? Hiring a personal trainer.(apparently, if you are a woman you get quite the discount if it's a gym frequented by men) Then my husband will be all "omg, what a great workout housework is!" Then I will hand him a mop and a vacuum and say, "You're looking a little soft. There you go, Mr. Universe!"  Then I can fire the maid.

Truckers and Angels

TJ was a trucker from Michigan, just passing though our little part of PA.  He had just docked his rig and was behind a rather large mound of dirt.  As he made his way around his cab he felt.. something.. sudden shortness of breath, chest pain.. then a sudden definite sense that he was about to die. He gathered what breath he could and let out a cry for help-- knowing full well that from behind that mound of dirt, what little bit of yelling he could do was likely to be muffled. He yelled anyway.

And someone heard him.

He was rushed to my hospital (which happened to be just a block away from where he was). He went to the emergency dept where he lost consciousness within minutes of arrival. He was in congestive heart failure and cardiogenic shock.  He was intubated in the ER and was sent to the medical ICU unit for a week while he stabilized.  His wife was contacted and she tearfully drove straight through non stop from Michigan to be by his side. She sat with him while he was completely knocked out being kept alive by a machine.  Another family in the ICU heard about their plight and paid for her to stay in a local hotel for a week.(Later, the hospital put her up in a special house they use for situations exactly like they were in)  Once TJ was stable they found he had severe aortic stenosis and aortic insufficiency-- he needed a new aortic valve.  So off to surgery he went.

Once TJ was in the OR, in the middle of the surgery, his aorta suddenly dissected.. The surgeons and nurses furiously worked to transfuse blood as TJ slipped further and further away.. after countless units of blood, an emergent Bentall procedure was performed.  TJ lived through the surgery. He lived through the night. And after 4 days in the Cardiac Surgical ICU?  He was all mine.

TJ had two mediastinal and 2 pleural chest tubes protruding from him, indwelling foley catheter, external epicardial pacing wires (capped), in insulin gtt set ay 4 mLs an hour (2 units/hour), a midsternal incision with an acticoat dressing over it, IV venofer running, 4L of O2 via nasal cannula and a humble, scared look on his unshaven/been through war of a face.

I helped him out of his wheelchair and into his recliner.  I frequently checked on him, I ambulated him around in the hallways, I taught both he and his wife about different meds and side effects of them... and he told me his story.

So last night I was saying goodbye to him and I will never forget the things he said to me. He said, "I was never an overly religious man.. but I truly believe it was no accident that I was right around the corner from one of the best cardiac teams on the east coast when my heart gave out. God had one hand on my shoulder and one hand on that surgeon's shoulder when he was operating on me.  The kindness shown to my wife by you people is just as appreciated as the top notch medical treatment you have given to me. I don't really know how to thank any of you enough for all you have done and continue to do.."  and with that, the Grizzly Bear of a trucker wiped huge tears from his kind, blue eyes and I gave him a big hug and I thanked him by telling him, "It's patients like you that make this job the best job in the world, so on behalf of everyone here, thank YOU for allowing us to care for you."

TJ's birthday is coming up on Sunday... his goal is to be home by then.  Something tells me, he's going to make that goal.  I don't think his angels would let him miss it. ;)

PAPER IS MAGICAL

Have a problem with your business?

Add a form!

Patients falling on the floor too often?

Hang a sign on their door!

Too many loose ends in your office's workflow?

Give everyone a checklist!

Let's get down to brass tacks.  Sometimes, circumstances in a workplace change.. sometimes for the better; but more likely than not, for the worse.  Is it REALLY necessary to insult the intelligence of your staff by even hinting that a piece of paper is going to fix an increase in falls?  Dude.. we've got fuckin stroked out (may as well be tripped out) people flinging themselves out of bed all the frigging time.  Do you really think a SIGN is going to help the staff??  How about.. oh I don't know.. STAFFING THE FLOOR PROPERLY?

Hey!! Wanna see my new shirt? It says "ARRRRR" on top and "ENNNNN" on the bottom.

(second half of this message is for the person who told me to lighten up on my blog)  I don't know though, these girls are pretty heavy, not sure how much lightening up they are going to do. *shrug*