Some Patients...

require patience in mass quantities while others just remind me why in hell I decided to be a nurse. 

To be brutally honest, most patients fall into the first category.  We have this doctor who admits people for the most bullshit reasons.  When we get an admission and his name is the admitting doctor the nurse getting that patient either sighs deeply with a sense of despair or starts campaigning for it not being their turn to get the admission. Without fail, these patients will be the ones who set the alarms on their celphones so they never miss a chance to ask for the narcotics and the Phenergan.  They also want us to double as waitresses all night because they're up and have the munchies. 

0200, any night, the call light goes off:
"Can I help you?"
"I... is it time for my pain and nausea medicine?"
"No, not yet.  It's due in two hours."
"Oh."
"Is there anything else I can help you with?"
"Can I get a Coke with ice, a sherbert and some crackers and peanut butter?"

Sure they can.  They're feeling sick to their stomach and want that Phenergan (which has a sedating/narcotic effect) so we sally on over there with an armful of snacks so they can kill two hours before their next dose.  It makes me want to scream. 

Then there are the ones who come in with legitimate medical problems/post-op.  They feel like they're few and far between, but they aren't.  The others just make it feel that way.  I had this wonderful gentleman as a patient through my last shift.  He was a pleasure to help.  His family were friendly and pleasant.  He has a genuine desire to get better and is the ultimate in compliance with doctor's orders.  He'll be discharged before I'm back Saturday night which is good for him, but disappoints me.  I'll end up with a whole group of 8 of the previous type of patients.

Bitter is the soul of the already burned out nurse.

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Infinite Fish

Hey, I found my directory of Infinite Fish backgrounds. Boy, these sure bring back memories.

I play!

Texas Redux

All the talk and back and forth and maybes have resulted in the decision that we are going to move back to Texas.  The tentative timeframe is to move in/by 2010.  My contractual obligation to the Health Alliance will be up that year and Rusty's given the go ahead.  I'm happy!

Not that I don't like it up here.  I do.  It's mostly gorgeous, lots of hills and green, green grass far into summer.  I just don't have any support group up here.  I lean on Rusty.  All the time.  He deserves a break and I deserve girls to talk girl stuff to.  Oh, and I miss my family so very much.  Great niece and nephews are all growing up while I'm not there.  It makes me sad when I visit and Joey doesn't remember me.  This will be great!

I've already started scoping the real estate market.  The logistics of choosing a home, buying said home, and then moving our worldly goods back down from Kentucky are blowing my mind though.  Bleh!  I'm making lists and more lists.  We have to balance out our needs versus our wants. 

Such as...  We want land.  However, we want to be close enough that we can game and socialize with the Dallas area crew with ease.  So the land becomes a want instead of a need.  It's a bitch.  I'm super looking forward to all the work though.  It'll so be worth it in the end.

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Puppy Ups and Downs

Sooo.  We have a new puppy in the family.  Her name is Domina due to the Roman eagle proudly splashed across her furry chest.  I'm serious, check it out:


Domi's mommy is a husky/german shepherd mix and her dad is a mystery... He's a deadbeat, good lookin' guy, I'm sure.  Her feet are gigantor, her bladder teeny, her puppy teeth very, very sharp.  She's freakin' adorable. 

Puppies don't really make for relaxing times when hanging out at home though.  Domi pees.  A lot.  I'm constantly running her ass outside just to play it safe because you just can't tell when she's gonna pop a squat on ya.  It's exhausting.  And trying.  Very trying.  More so for Rusty than for me.  He didn't really know what he was getting into with a puppy whose age is measured in weeks, not months.

What you get into is pee.

Lots of pee.

She was 8 weeks old when the above picture was taken.  She was born on January 25th.  So in the pic below she's 1 day short of 10 weeks old.  Bodie looks pissed because she is.  She still hates the camera and I was making her stay there so I could get the photo.  Then Domi wanted to leave.  Then she was just confused by my yammering at her, hence the head cocking.

There are galleries up on the Gallery page of Fleatopia for more puppy tussling and cuteness than any sane person can handle in one sitting.  Go look!

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