Damn. Been forever.
Okay, so everyone is wondering what I’ve been up to. Well. Let me tell you. I’ve been up to…
my elbows in shit. No lie. See, here’s the thing. When I hear a call light go off, I look to see who it is. No big thing, right? Apparently SO, for certain people who think that the definition of nurse is “someone who is never around when you need them, especially if you are a blind diabetic with COPD and a GI bleed, in the bathroom”. Frak. Dammit, I spent more time cleaning up bloody poop in the room next door than I spent with my own total care patient.
This went on for four weeks of clinicals, yo. Somehow, I and SlackerNurse were always paired. They tried to do that to help us out, right, so we were together for four weeks. Holy shit, that’s all I did, answer her frakkin’ call light! The first two weeks weren’t like that, but on the second week her patient went south, called a fast team. Hell, I don’t know what she thought it was going to be like when the anesthesiologist said, “Now, SN, you’ll have to monitor his BP every five minutes once I give this bolus.” She smiled and said, “Okay!” and got busy setting the auto-BP. Then when his second pressure was iffy, she got worried…his third was total crap. She lost it. We almost had to escort her from the floor, no lie. She needs to be in a little clinic or something.
So anyway, from that moment on she was like, “If I’m not in there, they can’t blame me,” or “If I don’t see it, it’s like it doesn’t happen,” or some such shit. So who took care of her patient, and my own, and helped everyone else, and ran interference so we lowly SNs could actually chart? Me, of course. “Miranda, could you…” “Miranda, Slacker needs help with…” hell, everything. Ambulating her patient. Checking their pulse. Getting a bedpan. Charting safety rounds. God.
Because it’s all about the patient…right?
