The job

Well. I waited a month. A month. A month after interviewing for "the job" and I was told "the news is that there is no news and don't expect any news anytime soon. Financial reasons. And we received another qualified applicant so we're gonna interview them too."

WTF?

Sociopathy 1:25

Some people do not have a conscience. In fact, 1 in 25 people don't have a conscience. 1 in 25. They're called sociopaths. They're not all murderous villains. Some just don't want to work and can manipulate the system to make that happen for them. They have no inner voice telling them what they want is wrong. Some are murderers, criminals. Most are CEO's, teachers, police officers. No kidding. I learned this in a recent class I attended regarding toxic people. An it is probably the most important thing I have learned to date.

You see. All this time I thought everyone had a conscience. Everyone but crazy murderers that is. And that everyone operated on the same principles. Everyone wanted to do good, do the "right" thing. When you realize that 1 in 25 people don't care about what is right or wrong. Rather they care about how to get what they want weather it be fame, fortune, a promotion, power, to be taken care of, drugs. Right and wrong play no part. When you realize these people exist it all makes a little more sense.

That jerk boss who stole your ideas and got promoted. The co-worker who scapegoated you. The peer who bullied you. The boss who manages to look good at the expense of others. The boyfriend who never gets a job and you continued to support. The addict who keeps going to the hospital and nothing is wrong with them but they get lots of pain meds and a million dollar work up. People who fake a disability. They all have one thing in common. No conscience. They have figured out how to get whatever want. A free ride, drugs, attention, power.

1 in 25. That's a lot of people.

Labeling IV bags

Why? Someone explain why I have to label a bag of normal saline with a sticker that says it's normal saline when the bag already had normal saline printed on the side?

It drives me nuts.

I didn't add anything to the bag of normal saline. What nurse does that anymore?

The last time I added a drug to a an IV bag was when we used to heparinize flush bags for art lines. I understand labeling that IV bag.

I don't get labeling a bag of NS with another label, covering the original label with my label.

Welcome to the department of redundancy department.

Interview rash

You probably can't tell very well from the photo of the crook of my arm but there is a little red prickly rash there. I call it my interview rash. It actually was way worse but has been getting better by the minute.

My big job interview was today. And my friendly little outward expression of anxiety and stress showed up behind my knees a few days ago. It progressed to my arms yesterday. Itchy. Red. Not good. No Bueno.

The interview went well. I should call it "the inquisition" (and I have). Only because it's two hours long. And with two different panels of interviewers. Torture.

I think I nailed it. I owe some of that perceived success to my sister-in-law. She told me "It's a game. You have all the answers because they are YOUR answers. There is no wrong answer because they are YOUR answers." I also owe some of my confidence to my sister who shared her experiences of interviewers whose goal it was to make you cry. I chanted in my head as I walked down the hall toward the room to the interview. "they are my answers, my answers, none of them are wrong, they're all right, it's a game, it's a game, just smile and give my answer, I can do this!"

I think it might have worked. I'll let you know if I get the job.

Yes

Ahhhhhhh. Do I need to say more?

A nurse's nightmare

When I went to bed last night I didn’t know I would bespending the night enduring the worst nursing shift of my life.

But I did, well sort of, I did it in my dreams.  I dreamt I was running around trying totake care of my patients and getting nowhere.  

First, I received a new admit and a patient from PACU, bothat the same time and I couldn’t find anone to help me get them into bed.  My new admit was a very old man in his 80’s or 90’s.  He was covered in urine.  His foley catheter was overflowing andthere was so much urine under him it looked like he was laying in a kiddy poolfilled with urine.  It sloshedaround when I moved the gurney across the room.  The room was full of furniture and supplies, none of whichwere useful to me and all of which were in the way.  I couldn’t even find his bed.  I couldn’t find a new foley catheter.  He had a dozen family members crammedinto the room surrounding his gurney and they were all watching me, waiting forme to get him off the gurney, into bed and cleaned up.  But I had no help, couldn’t findsupplies and the room was a disaster! 

I started running around the unit looking for supplies andlooking for someone who could help me. Supplies were everywhere, in bins similar to products at Ikea, and noneof them was what I needed.  Therewere miles and miles of hallway too, just like Ikea.  There were nurses everywhere, all of them unavailable tohelp me.  There were managers andcharge nurses having meetings in the hallway, and they all looked at me as if Iwas nuts for asking for their help. I started to cry.  I bawled even, as I ran around the unit looking for suppliesand help. 

Finally a few nurses took me seriously.  I frantically explained that I neededhelp and they followed me to the room of the old man laying in the urine filledkiddie pool.  Then, one afteranother, nurses kept filing into the room, each washing their hands with pilesof soap and each one using the isolation gowns, (did I mention this patient wason isolation?)  They just stoodthere not knowing what to do for me and clogging up my room.  This apparently seemed like a good timeto put a  new foley catheterin. 

With my manager and the educator and all my peers standingthere watching me, I kept dropping the foley catheters on the floor and wouldhave to get a new one.  Thensomehow the new ones were full of urine already.  The scene bounces between the foley catheters, the mounds ofsoap the nurses were using, my patient in a kiddie pool of urine and mecrying.  

I start to direct peopleto move the furniture out of the way so we can get the patient off the gurneyon into bed and realize I have to ask the dozen family members to leave.  I can tellthey don’t want to go but I ask if all can leave but one so that we can havesome room to arrange the patient comfortably.  They start to file out of the room, as I escort them to thedoor there is a little young lady in scrubs yelling at me at the doorway.  Like I had done something wrong.  

I’m pretty sure she was a nurses aideand I think she was mad that I needed so much help.  I was crying and yelled at her about how bad my day was andhow little help I had and if she knew what I’d been through she wouldn’t beyelling at me.  

I went back to theroom and started directing people on moving pieces of furniture.  There were tables, and chairs.  Big ones and little ones and abassinette and little rocking chairs and a sofa.  The patient's bed was on the opposite side of the room fromwhere it needed to be.  Of course,everyone is washing their hands after each piece of equipment they touch, andwith copious amounts of soap, then getting on new gowns and gloves.  I got exasperated with the isolationgown at one point and threw it and my gloves off saying “I just don’t careanymore”.  Immediately after, I gotsome nasty bodily fluids on my hands. Looking down I realized I had a big cut on my left palm that was nowcontaminated with bodily fluids. So I began washing with lots of soap and water.

Eventually Igot the help I needed.  The roomwas arranged.  The bed was where isshould be and the multiple chairs were lined up out of the way for the familymembers.  I had a clean foleycatheter to insert and I wasn’t crying anymore.

This was the most vivid nursing dream I have ever had.  What does it mean?  Is it a metaphor for the nursing profession?

Being surrounded by supplies and unable to find what youneed.  Two patients needing you at the same time.  Fellow nurses unavailable to help.

Family members with expectations far beyond what one humancan actually deliver.  Not a single doctor in sight.  Managers and charge nurses who appear to do nothing but clogthe hallways.  CNA’s with attitude.  Family members in the way.  And apparently nurse co-workers who are obsessed with soap, and isolation gowns.  Cluttered rooms.  The crying.  Taking shortcuts that get you in trouble.

UGH!  I hope that's not what nursing is.

Applying for a job

About 6 months ago I applied for the nurse manager job in my critical care unit. I didn't get it. An ER nurse got the job. I was upset. I felt that one of the applicants from the ICU should have gotten it. After all, the three of us from the ICU that had applied for it had devoted years to the care of critical patients. She was an ER nurse.

Turned out that this ER nurse is really good. I like her a lot. And I like how she manages the unit. I probably would not do as good a job as her. In fact, I'm sure of it.

A few weeks ago I heard an educator was leaving her position. I was so excited! Then so deflated as I heard they weren't going to replace her. Hence, I have spent the last few weeks in a funk. The ICU was full of really sick and hopeless, heartbreaking cases. I was sick with a headache almost every day. Surely a brain tumor misdiagnosed as chronic sinusitis. And I felt that I would never get a chance to advance my career. My attitude was poor. Every little annoyance at work bothered me.

Don't get me wrong. I love being an ICU nurse. I love taking good care of my patients. But I know I have so much more to contribute. I would have applied for the hospital President's job if I didn't think they'd laugh at me. Unit Based Educator is a perfect job for me but it was gone. A casualty of the recession. Or so I thought.

As I checked the job openings there it was. The Unit Based Educator job that I wanted. So I applied. And I am hopeful again. I am already looking for an interview outfit. Let's hope no one noticed my bad attitude these last few weeks. And let's hope my vocal nature won't hurt my chances.