On My Own

Pretending she's beside me... all alone, and it's awful. No, not my singing voice or the wrong lyrics to Les Miserables, it's actually the soundtrack to my professional life as of recently.

I'm officially off orientation, so the nurses that I have been working with and who have been guiding all of my actions are pretty much out of the picture. Not to say that I'm without support altogether-- when I have questions, there are lots of staff persons to help me out. But really for the most part, I'm on my own. And what a terrible feeling from the pit of my stomach all the way up to my throat and all the way down to my colon (or something) that leaves me with. Ugh.

Anyway, I'm not going to get into the gory details too much, but I just wanted to update all my Noodle fans on how my very first and second on-my-own-and-I-feel-so-alone days went:

1. First thing in the shift Monday morning, a patient takes a turn for the worst and ends up having cardiac arrest. I had to call a code and I was pretty much unable to assist because of fear, emotion, memories of finding my grandmother dead in her hospital room a couple of months before... all kinds of stuff. It was awful. I couldn't stop crying... and not that little whimpering "woe is me" business. I mean, like, full body "can't stop shaking because I'm so overcome with emotion" sobbing. I had to be herded away to the breakroom for a while until I could calm down. And even though I continued to give care to the rest of my patients the rest of the shift, I was really unable to settle down. I must have spent about seven or so hours crying. What a terrible experience.

2. Last thing that shift right before the next group of nurses arrived to the unit, a patient on IV blood thinners who was confused and blind ended up getting out of bed, severing his IV tubing by what looked like teeth marks, and I found him standing in the room with blood pouring out of the cut tubing, gown soaked, bedsheets soaked, blood all over the floor. Sheesh. I disconnected the IV tubing that had been causing the blood to pour from his wrist, yelled at him to stay put and not move an inch, called for someone to get housekeeping, threw a towel onto the floor and escorted him to the bed where I again barked at him not to move an inch, and then called the doctor. Things with the patient ended up ok, but God-- what a shitty end to a shitty day. I needed a vacation.

3. But unfortunately, I was back the very next day. Really the only big challenge I faced that day was with a patient who accused me of forcing him to take too many medications. Now, granted this guy was sick. He didn't feel good and so he was in a bad mood. I can understand that. But force him to take too many pills? I don't think so. Some of my patients are served a nice cocktail of 30 or more pills at 10am alone (yes, thirty or more just at that one time), so I didn't think that the SIX PILLS I was giving this guy was that many. He did though, and when he refused to take some of them and I had already spent thirty minutes trying to encourage him to take premedications so he wouldn't have anaphylactic shock from the dye he was to receive for a procedure later, I just left and called his physician for an IV premedication order. Much easier, much less of a hassle. Also, this guy was fasting so that he could have this procedure done, and he was hungry. I understand that. But he also didn't want to be in the hospital and knew that the sooner he had his tests and procedures, the sooner he could be discharged. So, knowing all of that, why would you purposely sabotage your progress by eating right before you're supposed to have the test done knowing fully well that you're supposed to be fasting. ARGH! I came into the room to check on this guy and found that his wife had brought him a giant plate of chicken wings and french fries. So I called his doctor (again) to inform her... what an annoyance. Now he was just going to have to go another day with not eating. Oh well, sucks for him. Other stuff happened with this guy that was getting in the way of my giving him appropriate care... all because of his various behaviors, but I made sure to document it all and to inform his medical service. Nothing else I could do about it, so after writing all about it in his chart, I let it go. Good riddance.

Anyway, so that was my last two days at work. I had off today, thank God, but I'm back on tomorrow for some more of the same bullshit, I'm sure.

It probably sounds like I'm so incredibly jaded... and I guess at this early stage in my career, I am. I'm sorry about that-- it's getting in the way of my being able to spend more time with the patients I enjoy. I mean, everyone is getting the same good care from me equally, but it's all really cramping my style. And I love what I'm doing (for the most part) as far as helping people and taking care of them when they're unable to care for themselves... all very altruistic and yadda yadda yadda, and that part feels great. But I'm still wondering when I'm going to start to enjoy my job overall... when will I stop wanting to quit at the end of each day, or even better yet, when will I actually look forward to going in to do the work in the field I so desperately wanted to join in the first place? For my sake and for everyone else's, I hope it happens soon, though that sinking feeling extending the entire length of my GI tract somehow hints at otherwise.