Life in my head...

Horrors of the heat pump

This summer we moved into our dream home, our first "real" home (we own it), and I have been happy about every bit of it.  I didn't even get too upset when the neighbors' grandson set the wooded lot next door on fire.  But now it's cold--well, it's cold to this Southern girl--and I'm suffering from chilblains and the angst of poor heating.  We have a heat pump, and it's wonderful in the summer.  Now that it's been in the 20s or teens every night, and low 40s in the day, I'm freezing!!!!  If I set the thermostat on 72, it might get to 65 in the house if I'm also cooking and running the dryer.  Thank God we used to live in a house with just a floor furnace in one room and I own a multitude of quilts.  Tim has even slept in pajamas or scrubs for several nights!  I'm awfully happy that I got a brand new flannel nighty from LL Bean for Christmas.  I'm thinking I need to borrow an idea from the Brits and take a hot water bottle to bed.  Every night now there is some good-natured bickering about who gets to warm who's feet on which pair of legs.  We have gas logs, but they are not hooked up.  I'm thinking that needs to be a priority in the next couple of days, especially since it's supposed to sleet tomorrow.  Sleet!  Brr, pardon me while I go pull the long-johns out of storage.

It's difficult

It's very difficult to work around babies and pregnant women every moment when one is TTC (trying to conceive for the uninitiated).  I manage pretty well.  I haven't snapped, "Just be grateful!" to anyone complaining in early third trimester that they're so tired of being pregnant.  I don't get too envious when around my pregnant coworker.  I really am happy for her, and she's so encouraging.  No one seems to get too put out with me constantly talking about cycle days and peeing on pregnancy tests.  When I had a migraine tonight, one of the docs kindly ordered me a blood pregnancy test so I could take a Relpax without worry.  But, when the negative result came from the lab, I asked to leave work early.  Not just from the head pain, but from the sheer frustration of the 'always a bridesmaid' feeling.  Tim doesn't understand.  Yes, he wants me to get pregnant, but if it doesn't happen right this minute, his life will go on unimpeded.  But I've wanted to have a baby for the entire time we've been married, so I feel like this has been an eternity.  For him it's just been nine months of trying.  He looks at me like I've just gone nuts every time a new purchase shows up (ovulation predictor kits, fertility saliva microscope, basal thermometer, Preseed), Evening Primrose Oil, assorted books), but for me it's serious, and I feel the passage of every day. 

I love my job, but with each progressing infertile day, I wish I worked at Target.  Scratch that, they have a baby department.  Okay, sometimes I wish I worked at Home Depot.

Just when I was pretending to be normal

I've been put on probation for work for excessive absences (for the record, I was absent 12 times in the last 12 months).  The punishment for this offense is probation, and the terms are this:  I can be absent twice in the next 6 months.  Great.  Just what a sicky needs. The whole concept of this is just counter-intuitive to me.  Well, in my meeting with the manager, I told her I honestly thought I couldn't live up to these terms (especially during cold and flu season, I work with newborns, I'm not supposed to come to work sick!).  I told her I would probably apply for intermittent FMLA, and she didn't seem pleased, but I have to keep this job.  The owners of the hospital have a monopoly, they own all the hospitals in a 3-county area.  If I lose my job at my current hospital, I'd have to really travel to work.  Anyway, I went to HR, and was made to feel like a lazy parasite sucking the blood out of society, but I do have the FMLA approved now.  Trouble is, I feel like the spotlight is on me, and that every absence will be scrutinized.  I know that they can't say anything to me if I miss for a migraine, but that won't stop them from thinking it.

Interns, Residents, and other Parasites

As you may or may not know, I attempt to work as a registered nurse in a labor and delivery unit.  I say attempt, because if I make the mistake of picking one of the medical school's patients, I'd be more productive if I just shredded paper and threw it down the elevator shaft all shift.  I've worked at hospitals that were teaching hospitals, where the majority of physicians are in the teaching program, and at least there you know that you'll spend a large part of your day trying to correct misconceptions and attempting to play "patient advocate" every minute of the day.  In a hospital like my current one, the majority of our patients are cared for by real, honest-to-God, thoroughly trained physicians.  The rest unlucky souls are subjected to Human Anatomy Model Syndrome by those trying to learn to be doctors.  Don't get me wrong, some of the students, interns, and residents I work with are superb.  They know their limits, they ask lots of questions, they realize that the staff may all be "just nurses", but we have more experience and we know what we are talking about.  In short, they are well on their way to being great doctors.  And then there's the minority.  Those that walk on the unit and try to tell me how my interpretation of the fetal monitoring strip is wrong, that I MUST respect them because they have an MD near their names, that they are the end-all, be-all of existence.  If ego were all it took, they'd be doing heart transplants on newborns tomorrow.  These are the scariest ones, because they won't take suggestions.  I haven't spent the last 10 years reading magazines and drawing a paycheck for looking cute in scrubs.  These are the type that get excited over tragedy, because it's more experience for them.  I have actually heard, regarding a stillborn, "I wish she'd hurry up and have it, I wanna see it!"  As a nurse, caring for someone who is suffering a tragedy, this is untenable.  Yes, we all like interesting stuff at work, but health care is all about someone's life. 

The ignition source for my current fury is an asshat who didn't like something I said, and got really crappy with me.  "Do we need to call the attending?  Huh?   HUH?  Do you have a problem?"  Yes, junior, it's you.  And, by the way, ALL of the attendings will be hearing about your attitude and behavior.  The attendings know me and trust my judgment, they rely on me to care for their patients.  You, junior, on the other hand, are just a passing face in the crowd, and I'm now making it my mission in life to see that your rotation through our unit is sheer, utter hell. 

As the chief attending puts it (and he's quite right), "A nurse can be a resident's best friend or worst nightmare, and the resident usually decides which way it will go."

Decision's been made, and this month should be fun.

Tips from a nurse

Well, I was going to write a diatribe about drug-seekers and space-wasters, but I decided that anyone outside the medical profession wouldn't understand, and anyone with a chronic illness might get upset with me.  In fact, I just deleted several paragraphs.  I'll just leave it at:  if you need medical care, get it.  If you are bored sitting at home because your boyfriend's out with his buddies, coming to the hospital for nothing will get his attention, but it will also seriously piss off the nurses and doctor.  And these are the people you will really need to be on your side when you come in for an actual problem.  If you are hurting, tell us, but don't feel the need to overdramatize.  We are much more likely to believe someone that is quiet with a clenched jaw than someone who decides to scream and throw themselves in the floor.  People in real pain do scream, but it's usually a little more believable than the prom queen acting in the school play.

And now I will sit and chant for 30 minutes, "I love my job.  I love my job."

Beautiful morning

I worked last night, and I had a pretty good night, except for one incident as the shift started.  As I drove home this morning, with my windows down and the radio up, smelling the honeysuckle, I thought about how much I owe to my wonderful neuro, Dr. Krusz.  This is the best I have felt in years.  And Dr. K isn't just a great clinician, he's a great guy.  I'm generally observant about how MDs and DOs treat their nurses, and he seems to really value his nurse.  He never rushes, he always is empathetic, he seems to understand everything about the life of a migraneur.  And most important, he's very concerned with his patients' pain.  All of this leads me to the rest of my thought, and the incident last night.  There are wonderful doctors in the world.  I'm fortunate enough to be a patient of 3 of these wonderful people (neuro, PCP, and OB/Gyn). 

But then, there are the other ones.  The ones that don't want to be woken up, no matter how dire the situation, the ones who never pass up a chance to be crappy to a nurse, the ones who are in general, a**holes.  I have worked in many hospitals, and I have encountered examples of the best and the worst.  Unfortunately, the bad ones still get patients.  Why?  Are they nice to their patients and then turn into the Wicked Witch when around nurses and their staff?  I think so, in many cases.  It's truly sickening.  Which is one reason that my personal policy is to not give my hard-earned money to anyone that cannot treat a nurse with respect.  It's a policy that has served me well, and I usually have great doctors.  I chose a surgeon for that very reason one time, driving a long distance to see someone my OB declared, "a great guy and a great surgeon" when the one more convenient to me was just awful to nurses. 

I've also noticed that female physicians tend to suffer from megalomania more frequently.  Okay, no flaming and no nasty emails.  It's an opinion, and I have a right to it.  And I also don't want to hear about how they have a harder time in medical school, and therefore develop the bitch persona.  I went through law school and passed the Bar without feeling that I was in an Old Boys' Network.  I'm just saying that in my experience, a nurse is more likely to be treated like crap by a female physician, and that they tend to have personal issues more often.  Which again brings me back to last night.  I can't divulge details due to the possibility that someone somewhere might recognize the situation, and thus I would be violating federal law, but it was definitely a case of witchy with a 'b'.

So, what should you take from this rambling epistle?  If you want to find a good doctor, ask a nurse!

I love my job

Someone approached Tim at work yesterday. I had cared for his wife during her labor & delivery. He told Tim that out of their 3 deliveries, I was by far the best nurse they had ever had. I got tears in my eyes when he told me that. Okay, life doesn't completely suck, like I sometimes claim. Sometimes someone notices what we do, and they do appreciate us. I tried to stay at home once, when my migraines were completely out of control, and I was miserable. I still hurt, and I felt useless. I know when I have a baby (please, God, let it be soon) I'll want to cut down my hours and work 3-11 so Tim can have the baby in the afternoons. But quick work completely? Not if I can help it!

Back to work today

I love my job. I really do. There is nothing more rewarding than caring for laboring women and their babies. Every birth is a gift from God, every new baby is a treasure. After all these years, it still hasn't lost its charm. But I hate hate hate hate night shift. I need to wean off my sleep meds, and how can I do that while working nights? I barely sleep at night, sleeping during the day only occurs with extreme exhaustion and meds. Even with the meds, my day sleep is broken. Oh well, if I am to have a treasure of my own, I have to get off the meds. And for years I did without them (and sleep). And if I am to work in L&D, it must be at night right now.