Cowboys

Im not overly fond of cowboys.

Especially in this part of the world. It seems to me that being a cowboy involves:

A: driving trucks with "dualies"
B: wearing ugly polyester shirts with snap buttons
C: missing at least 4 teeth in a complete set
D: wearing starched jeans and a cowboy hat (except they curl their lip and pronounce it "het")

However, I like to go out with friends, so one night, Dean and I decided to go to a club called "BIG TEXAS." Yeah. You get the picture.

They actually charged us to get in. I think they should have OFFERED us money to go past the front door.

A few hours later, after enduring songs like "Now I lay Me Down To Cheat" and "Her Teeth were Stained, but her Heart was Pure", I was pleasantly buzzed, and feeling a bit cocky. I was standing in place, talking to a couple of friends, sort of dancing in one place. (I wasnt on the dance floor because there was a line dance going on....I was worried I would be crushed by all the fat girls that always seem to pour onto the floor at the first note of Boot Scootin Boogie.)

So Im dancing in one place, and feel a bit of a draft near my ass region. I turn around, and this COWBOY is waving his "het" at my ass. I glare at him and he says, "Darlin, you need to coooool down."

I look at him and say, "Can I see your "het"? (Good thing I wasnt missing teeth or that question would have been the equivalent of saying, "Wanna fuck?")

He says, "Why shore darlinnnn"

I took his hat, and threw it like a frisbee out onto the dance floor. I was aiming for the chick that was wearing sequins but I missed.

Cowboy Fuckface looks at me and gets in my face and says, "Yer MEAN!" By this time, I am ready to kick him in his denim encased crotch....but suddenly, I feel these iron hands close over my shoulders, and I am picked up and moved behind some guy. It was my husband. The cowboy took one look at him and walked away in a hurry.

This all took place about 6 months ago. Last week we decided to go to BIG TEXAS again (except the neon lights are burnt out so all you see is "___ __XAS" blinking pathetically. Like a dumbass, I left my wallet in the truck (yes it was locked) and some skank stole it and went on a shopping spree.

I bet you a million dollars she was related to that cowboy.....karma always gets you sooner or laer.

Happy New Year

I wouldnt say that nursing is an art. Truthfully, I think my reasons for being a nurse are selfish: I like to make other people feel good, because it makes me feel good. As much as I complain and whine about the emotional vacuum it creates, I feel like my feet are planted more firmly on the ground when Im at work.



So. The hospital I am currently employed at needs a charge nurse. I can see why too: the unit is huge. 43 beds. It is often short staffed. The patient demographics suck. Alot of the staff are understandably burned out. New Years eve was no exception. Im filling in as charge nurse, but New Years Eve, instead of charging with only one primary patient, I had 5. That means I have to look after 5 of my own patients, plus be in "charge" of the rest of the floor.



Basically that means I have to delegate without pissing people off, and handle situations before they escalate.



I arrive at work at 1830. I am greeted with the staffing arrangement. Im not impressed. Then its time to do the narcotic count. Thank goodness there are no discrepancies. Then its time to get report on 43 patients. In the middle of this, a day nurse tells me that a certain doctor, who has MAJOR phsycological issues, is refusing to reconcile the medications on a patient who is about to be discharged.



Ever been yelled at? I mean REALLY yelled at by someone who you have never met? It sucks. Anyone who knows me understands how hard it is for me not to pop back twice as hard. For example, the other night, an asshole urologist was interrogating me about why his patients were still in the hospital. I wanted to look him in the eye and say, "Im sorry, what did you say? I was too busy looking at all those warts on your face." Instead, I said, "Im not sure, but Ill try to find out for you." (Dont get me wrong....I dont kiss their asses, but I certainly hold back when it comes to retorts. I have the emotionless facial expression perfected when it comes to dealing with asshole doctors.)



Anyways, Dr. Fucktard is on the phone, and continues to demean me, and any other nurse who has the pleasure of talking to him. His personal mental struggles end up putting a patient in danger, so I have to write him up in what is described as an "objective and factual" manner. How do I write, "HES A GIANT ASSHOLE" in professional terms?



Next, we have a nursing home patient who was admitted for AMS....which means "altered mental status". When you see AMS as a diagnoses, you know you are going to be dealing with A: pleasantly confused man or woman or B: a crazyassed bastard thats going to take a swing at you unless you get some sedation. The little guy that we got was a swinger. He only weighed 100 pounds though so he wasnt threatening. What WAS an issue was the fact that his bladder was so distended, it looked like it was ready to pop. He couldnt pee. I would have AMS too if I couldnt pee. We tried to put a catheter in him, and it was a bloody mess. Five different nurses tried five different times. All we got was blood. It was horrible. We had to hold him down.



So we call the doctor and he requests an emergency urology consult. Its 3am. Its New Years Day. The one urologist consult I got ahold of snapped, "I am NOT taking emergency consults" and hung up on me. Next step? Emergency surgical consult. The doctor was paged NINE TIMES. Called at his home, his pager, and his mobile. In the mean time, the patient is trying to get out of bed. I dont blame him...he was probably worried that those crazy nurses were going to come back and try to stuff a tube up his penis again.



After 12 hours of trying to help this little man, and having to write up another doctor for "delay in treatment" that could "result in harm to the patient", it was time to give report to the day shift. We finally got a hold of the doctor, but it wasnt a happy moment. This poor little confused man had suffered for the whole shift. And I couldnt do anything about it except sedate him when he tried to climb out of bed.



Next year Im going to go out and get shiftaced instead of working.

Mexican Culture

My oldest grand daughter is 1/2 Mexican (gorgeous curly hair, brown eyes, and skin that tans in 5 minutes). While accompanying me in my car, she decided to enlighten me on the diversity of her culture. The conversation went like this:


"Nana?"

"Yes sweetie?"

"Do you remember our TV in our room?"

(I panic, thinking she is going to ask me the brand name, or something specific about it, when in reality, I just know its there and that it keeps the kids quiet when Amy needs a break). "Sure I do."

"Well, it broke. So daddy when to a thrift store and bought another one. But in three days, it stopped working. So daddy sold it."

By this point, Im not really listening....although Im ashamed to admit, I got bored with the converation as soon as she said it was bought at a thrift store. So I half heartedly say, "Is that right? Hmmm?"

Then she says, "So I asked mommy why daddy would sell a TV to someone if it wasnt working in the first place, and mommy said 'because thats what Mexicans do.' "

I almost had to pull over because I was laughing so hard. I need to start paying closer attention to what the child says....I could be missing some good stuff.

Clean Panties

It never ceases to amaze me how often I am reminded of what I take for granted.
Take Nellie for example. Her stomach is probably the size of a tennis ball, yet she managed to suck down a 24 oz smoothie in less than 15 minutes. I failed to remember this when she told me, "Nana I have to pee."

Keep in mind that I had Pixie in my arms in the front seat. I naively thought that I would make things easier for Amy by taking the kids to the van so she could finish up some shopping. I had grandmotherly visions dancing through my mind. I could practically FEEL a halo above my head. I was radiating patience and loving kindness.

So when Nellie informed me that she had to pee, I stupidly replied, "Ok sweetie. We will be home in a few minutes ok?"

About 30 seconds later, she cries out, "The pee is coming out right now!!!!" Before I could even whip my head around, I could hear it spattering on floor.

My brain went into overdrive. Random crazy thoughts started to fly through my head....

*Oh my god, the van is going to smell like pee.*

*Couldnt she have held it? I mean Ive held it for hours before and never peed on the floor.*

*God Im a sadistic bitch. Shes 2. Her bladder is the size of a walnut. Im the worst grandma in the world.*

*What am I going to do now? If I put her in her carseat, shell get the seat all wet. If I strip her down naked, Ill get arrested.*

*How am I going to deal with this when I have Pixie in my arms? If I set her down, shell start screaming. I could get arrested for that too*

*God I cant wait to have a drink when I get home*

Instead of actually saying what I am thinking, I look at her beautiful face and say, "Its ok sweetie it was an accident."

I get out of the van into the bastardly heat, put Pixie in her carseat (thank god she is the best natured baby I have ever seen), and try and lift Nellie out of the backseat without dripping pee all over the place. I also notice that she peed on her Little Mermaid Ariel doll and hope that it does not become an issue later.

I set her down next to me and start scouring the van for anything that can be of use to me. I wanted to break into song when I found diaper wipes, a pair of panties, and a dress.

So I poured the pee out of her pink Crocs (no wonder parents by those things, theyre easy to clean...and pour pee out of), wiped her up, and redressed her (without getting arrested). By this time, Amy had returned, and after a few explanations, we were happily on our way home.

Nellie summed up the whole ordeal quite nicely.

"Mommy, thank you so much for having clean panties in the van."

Im Getting Paid For This?

Every once in a while I have what amounts to be an AWFUL night at work.

The night started out a bit rough. It seemed like every patient had new med orders, and I had to start antibiotics on at least 3 patients. Not really a big deal, but sort of a pain in the ass. I had one patient who weighed close to 500 pounds, and when I went into assess him, he said "I have a load down here that needs to be cleaned up." (Like I couldnt smell it when I walked in the door). I told him that I would attend to it as soon as I could. He said, "Can you do it now?" I said "It takes more than 2 people to clean you and I need to find some help." He then had the nerve to tell me that he was hungry. Arrrrrrgggghhhh!!!! I was pissed off, disgusted, annoyed, and felt sorry for him all at once.

Another patient was old and on tube feedings. She kept calling for her daughter. I had to go in and reorient her at least once every hour. When I reminded her that she was in the hospital and that her daughter would be in tomorrow, she would look sad and disappointed. It was heart breaking.

My other patient was only 50 years old, homeless, and going through massive DT's. He kept calling to say that he was "sweating one minute and cold the next". I told him that it was part of detoxing, and that the alcohol was getting out of his system, making him feel sick. I loaded him up on Ativan and Librium and prayed that he wouldnt start hallucinating.

Another patient needed to have 4 units of blood, and 6 units of platelets. This means alot of monitoring to make sure he doesnt have a reaction.

By this time I had about a million things on my mind at one time. I went into start some new antibiotics on my 5th patient. He was a talker. One of those patients that are lonely and dont want to let you out of his room. So Im trying to prepare his meds, listen to what he has to say, and answer him at the same time. I hook up his antibiotics and just out of habit I said, "What are you allergic to?" He said, "Cephalosporins." My heart skips a beat and I say, "What happens when you take it?" He said, "Cardiac arrest."

Guess what antibiotic I was about to hang? Rochephin. The medication order went through all the safety gates and still ended up being filled and sent to the floor. Even though the allergy was on his profile, the computer still allowed me to scan his armband and the medication. Had I not asked him what he was allergic to, I would have started the infusion and he would have died.

By this time I am disgusted with myself. Disgusted that I was almost complacent, horrified at the fact that I could have killed him, and furious that there have been times where I have taken for granted that a computerized system is fail safe. What in the name of god was I thinking?????? Not only would I have lost my license, my job, and more than likely been sued, I could have taken a human life due to my near miss. It weighed on my mind and my heart for the rest of the night.

Then at 6AM, the charge nurse tells me Im getting another patient. I smile and say "Ok." but inside I am boiling and SERIOUSLY considering leaving my job. I dont get PAID enough for the literal and figurative shit I wade through each and every day. One of these days its going to be MORE than a close call and I could really harm someone because of the increasing work load they put on nurses. In fact, I was ready to quit and work at Starbucks. Who cares if its less money? Its good coffee and I dont have to put up with ridiculous requests from needy patients and its practically impossible to kill someone doing it.

The patient arrives to the floor and I am making every effort to appear calm and competent. Her son is with her and is mad at the ER doctor. He tells me that we "better not even think about discharging her before the doctor sees her." I get her information into the computer and she tells me she needs "something to eat, some water, something to put my teeth in, my jammy pants put on, my special pillows, and something for pain." I go to adjust her precious freaking pillows under her neck and she laughs and says, "Oh my! I thought you were going to kiss me! You are young enough to be my daughter you know." I laughed and said, "Is that right?" She says "Yes. You sure can. You know you are very good at your job."

I looked at her and thought to myself.....if only she knew....if she only knew what the last 12 hours have been like....

"I can tell that you really love what you do," she said. "It shows on your face when you smile."

Testicles

I only write when I am in the mood. Or drunk. Tonight I happen to be both! *wee-hoo!*

So me and Dean went on a cruise last week. That was preceded by a one week visit from Andrea, which was pretty much 7 days of drunken misbehavior. For those of you who are thinking, "Arent you a little OLD for that?"..... bite me. We had a blast.

Anyways....we went on a cruise. Three stops: Jamaica (which entailed a bunch of extremely pushy/poor black women trying to scrape a living in tiny flea market surroundings), Grand Cayman (swimming with stingrays, which was so fucking awesome!!!!!) and Cozumel.

Two days before we arrived in Cozumel, I grew a testicle.

Are you shocked? Think how I felt when I developed what felt like a shot-put with spikes on top of my pubic bone!!!!!

*background info: when Andrea was visiting, she gave me a bad ass bikini wax (after I had consumed at least a half bottle of wine. It hurt like hell, but my binky looked smooth and pretty. This was in preparation for the cruise. I may look like shit in a bikini, but by God, my bikini line was smoother than a babys ass*

Anyways.....something was amiss. I developed a fever, and what felt like a fiery inferno on my panty line. I have never been in so much pain in my life. Go ahead and laugh. If it was you, I would do the same.

One day before arriving in Cozumel, and after it got REALLY bad, I decided to see the "Ship Doctor". I called ahead of time to make sure this was a *real* physician. I got a smart assed reply from a foreign nurse, who kindly informed me that yes, he was a *real* doctor.

I made my way into the bowels of the ship and filled out their stupid little form. 5 minutes later, I am face to face with Dr. Enrique Quesidilla and he asks me if he can "look at it." By this time, I dont care WHO sees it, I just want the fucking thing GONE so I can enjoy the rest of my cruise. I yanked down my granny panties (sexy ones with lace were just too painful to endure) and he said, "Oh....my goodness. I think you need to see a surgeon in Cozumel."

EXCUSE ME?????? See a surgeon in freaking MEXICO????? Are you KIDDING ME?????

I then decided to play my nurse card. I informed him that A: there was no way I was going to see a surgeon in a third world country and that B: I am a nurse, please, just give me some drugs and I will be fine.

$200 dollars later, I had a left ass cheek full of Rochephin and Toradol, and promised that I would stop by in the morning to update them on my condition.

Thankfully, my friend had a big assed bottle of Vicodin, which she so kindly shared with me. I took 2 with a couple of Funships (a wicked rum punch I could not stop drinking). My hoo-hoo still hurt like hell, but I truly didnt give a shit. No wonder everyone in Hollywood is addicted to Vicodin.)

By this time, walking was absolute agony. I had to swing my left leg out at a 90 degree angle to walk. The worst part was the damn kids on the ship. They dont walk, they RUN. And flail their arms about. A little kid came flailing towards me with his arms and legs pistoning and I immediately shielded myself and turned sideways. For a brief moment, I felt in sync with the male race.

If getting hit in the nuts hurts HALF as bad as walking with an abscess on your bikini line does, I pity all the males who have ever been nailed in the balls (except if they deserved it).

Personalities

I am the new girl at work. It sucks because I have to try and behave myself and keep quiet. For those that know me, they understand what a difficult task that is for me.

Its been about 8 weeks since I started at a new hospital. At first I hated it. Now I dont hate it quite so much. However, last night, I managed to piss of not ONE....but TWO people! *hooray for Nic!*

Whats weird is I dont even know what made them so angry! One person is this red headed witch of a woman who I am REALLY trying to like. Its not easy. All she does is complain about the day shift and gripe about how broke she is and how much she likes to gamble in Lousiana and how shes so busy and blahdeblahfuckingdeBLAH. So she starts out her shift in her usual bitching and moaning way. She even asked me if I was going to be in her "area" because she was a in a "bad mood" (tell me something I DONT know you fat COW). So instead of just ignoring the whale, I offered to help her if she needed it (she declined) and then tried to cheer her up (to which she accused me of "making fun" of her).

The moral of the story: Some people dont want help, and dont want to be cheered up.

The other person is an older male that has been out for knee surgery. Anything I said to him, whether it was a direct question or an innocent comment, was completely ignored. I honestly thought he was deaf until he had a hissy fit and said that he was not going to answer me because it was obvious that I was trying to "bait" him. (Bait? What is he, a fucking fish? If I wanted to catch something, it sure as hell wouldnt be him.) I stared at him in bewilderment and asked him what his problem was. He turned around and didnt answer me. (If he had long hair and a ponytail, Im sure he would have flipped it indignently!)

The moral of the story: Sometimes men are bitches too.

Dont get me wrong; I know I have a strong personality. Im certain that there are lots of people that dont like me. When I was younger, it worried me. Now that Im older, I try to tell myself that I really dont care (which is bullshit, because deep down, we all want to be liked.)