Seduced By A Beekeeper

So on the outside, this man seemed perfect. Lean, beautiful body, beekeeper, karate expert, masseuse, speaks mandarin, seems of high intellect, owns his own business (albeit in the very entry stages). The man has me on the hook, however, he has put me off because he is not ready and broke it off initially, he has stood me up in the past, not called me for 3 weeks, and I keep going back like hummingbird to nectar. As a strong powerful woman, I can not understand these concessions-- he must be some powerful person for me to withstand such torment. And I now have to say no freaking way. So I am now putting it out publicly, for perhaps some sort of accountability to myself to resist.

When I told him he hadn't talked to me in 3 weeks, he seemed shocked. I really didn't notice. I was busy. Holy shit, busy. Try being a coparenting soccer mother with 2 jobs and assisting with running a non-profit company on the side. And maintaining friendships and relationships. That is the definition of being busy.

Contigo and Human Rights Declarations

I thought it might be nice to entree with something not so serious, intense, life and death. So, I went to some new outdoor bar/restaurant place this evening with a nurse friend, the place is called Contigo, ate some lentils and greens, pickled onions and green tomatoes, a sort of sausage that I can not describe. It tasted tasty, not a typical salty meat, I think it was called "laso". And it is in my hood, even east of Airport. Ah, yupification.

So as to keep this not like my journal with too many personal details, I will highlight a specific health care injustice tonight. I started a new job managing a free health clinic on Tuesday nights. I almost cried that night. People show up to this place on Tuesday for a walk-in appointment with a physician or nurse practitioner. They draw a number, as if they were waiting to pick up some cold cuts at HEB. The line forms at 6 pm, we issue tickets to the crowd. Depending on the number of volunteers that night will determine the number of patients we can see. Only my first night, I am unsure of the volume of people that normally get turned away, but this Tuesday we had to turn away about 12 people, all struggling emotionally and physically. It was rough, I have a hard time saying no. I would see them if I could, I guess that it is wise that I never got my MD. I would never stop.

This is where the cameras and documentarians need to come in. I turned to the social worker-- "this is the fucking sad state of our health care system". I told him, I wish they, the people in the line, knew that, where it seems that I actually hold some power, I don't. If I could see everyone, what would happen? Word would get out and we would have 1000 people at the door every night. But what does the conscious, ethical person do? If 1000 show, get the news there, get the cameras there, get the people that give a shit there. I think they might regret hiring me.

I firmly believe in the Universal Declaration of Human Rights, a UN document that may as well be issued as toilet paper. However, the tenets are perfect and valid to me, I feel that these are the reason I am alive. The most important article to me is #25:

"Everyone has the right to a standard of living adequate for the health and well-being of himself and of his family, including food, clothing, housing and medical care and necessary social services, and the right to security in the event of unemployment, sickness, disability, widowhood, old age or other lack of livelihood in circumstances beyond his control."

C'mon people, and all ye brethren of whatever religion you hold dear, understand what we are supposed to be doing.

This Has Got To Be It...

So I had left my hospital gig right after Thanksgiving to start at a federally qualified health center as a charge nurse. In charge of what? you may wonder... Basically it is in charge of kissing ass, smoothing over, putting out fires and helping patients navigate through an endlessly bureaucratic health care maze. As attractive as that all sounds, the worst part of it was this doctor I had to work with. She would pick a target, ride their ass like a pony for 2-4 weeks, annoy the hell out of them until they put up a protest and then moved on to someone else. Man, she picked on the wrong woman. We had our "meetings" in which I had to use every last bit of strength to keep from slipping into a morass of moral turpitude, to keep from extending my fist and punching her in the mouth. And I have never gotten into a physical altercation with anyone in my life, ever. She was quite despicable in a calm, smiling face kind of way. I have never quite met anyone like her before.

So I says to my boss, I am out. You can help me get another position within the company or I will be leaving in 2 weeks. Thankfully, he likes me and hooked me up with my current gig. Completely night and day. I am now managing 3 nurse practitioners and they are so laid back. They ask me for suggestions, they are not rude, they do not have crazy unrealistic expectations. Now that I am out of the crazy I realize how crazy it was. I have escaped and I am scared to actually get too excited about my new position, in the case that I have yet to see the ugly. I don't think there is too much of that where I am now... We shall see.

More Complaining

In the midst of my orientation in the ER, my preceptor was pleased as pie that I managed to start 2 IV's and push some meds. She looks at me in all seriousness and exclaims, "You did two things at once. You multitasked!" I utilized all self-restraint to not hit her in the face-- she really thought she was paying me a compliment, which I should appreciate. And staying up until 4 am three nights in a row sucks. It is messing with my rhythm and my brain power. I have stopped writing other than these few posts and I have no energy to play the piano. I have stopped caring about hygiene. It is time to figure out a plan B.

Crispy Critters

Emergency room nurses are referred to as "crispy critters" and certainly for reason. A young male, young in the hospital sense, is brought in from home. He is HIV+ and became so weak he could not get out of his ez chair for days. Consequently, he was covered in shit and piss. The man was so nice, sweet and he deserved to retain his dignity. But he reeked so badly that even the saintliest saint would cough, exhale deeply, basically struggle to keep from retching or uttering expletives. EMS had been so kind to cut his shirt off of him; however, it was pasted to his back by his highly concentrated urine. This man is obviously not fully functional, he does not have an MD, does not know his t counts, cd4 stuff. He states that he does not have any family, but I bet he means no family that will associate with a homosexual Hispanic HIV+ sibling/son/uncle. All I wanted to do was help him get out of his cakey pants and undies. I try to enlist my preceptor's assistance-- "there is no time", she states. Not even one minute to cut his clothes off and rub him down with our hospital issue wet wipes? So I did it by myself. What is wrong with that crispy critter? She should have been an investment banker-- you don't have to give a shit about anyone and you make a whole lot more money.

Pretension

I am currently taking some critical care nursing classes and the teacher, like many docs, says the word centimeter as if she were French-- "sahnt ah meeter". What is up with that?

I have discovered the world of the princess nurse-- critical care. OK, whilst that princess title is not completely fair, like you do have to think, process and have some definite skills and know-how when someone is going down the tubes fast, you have 1-2 patients. They are laid out in front of you with a glass wall-- so you can sit your ass down and see the 2 patients at all times. Large monitors monitor everything and display it all so that you can see their every vital sign while still sitting on your butt. Visiting hours are infrequent and strictly enforced-- eliminating the all-too-frequent overdemanding family members/friends that make a med-surg nurse's life utter living hell. Additionally, most patients are entubated and therapeutically sedated, so they can't complain to you about anything. Not that being in that state is a good thing, it just makes the psychological drain on the nurse less. However, the people that do discover this wonderful goodness NEVER LEAVE, leaving me in my post for an indefinite amount of time. Boo hoo.

On other notes, Texas doesn't sell hard liquor on Sundays, something I did not know until today. Bummer. Additionally, wild iguanas live in my neighborhood-- are they native to Texas??

My Ego is Bruised

My patients don't remember me!

In another move by our so-distantly-removed-administration, nurses now, in addition to all of their millions of other jobly duties, are charged with calling all discharged patients the day after they leave the hospital to be sure that they are "very satisfied"-- and to sleazily prime and coach them for the Gallup polling they will receive apres. Call after call I made yesterday, some of them my previous patients. In my mind and my selective memories, I am dazzling, bright, extremely hilarious. I tell jokes, my patients are laughing a lot, I keep them updated, I work to get them what they want which usually means I am bugging a lot of other people... Damn, do they realize how much this tires my 32 year old mind and soul? The best I got, and I mean c'mon people, was a "oh and that girl in the red scrubs, she was good". What? Just freaking good?? I remember this woman, I brought her pain medications before she even asked me in anticipation-- I swiftly got her out of there when she was ready, I helped her clear up her yeast infection. Good?

It's funny though how you give what you are and then get it back again. One patient, whom I did not care for but saw him and his boyfriend briefly, was a retired nurse and understood all of the crap we go through. Even in pain, he was extremely pleasant, kind, polite, funny, understanding, etc. Upon calling this man, he could not compliment everyone enough even though he may have been the best and easiest to care for patient we have had this year. So I guess I have stumbled upon a lesson for myself, so that instead of worrying about whether my patients want to congratulate me and fondle my ego, I should focus on giving out what I would like to receive back more and not worry about being honored in some damn parade.