I just called in sick to my unit. The nurse that answered the phone told the other nurse, who was precepting me for the first week I was there that I wasn't going to come in tonight.
"She needs to call the staffing office and the nursing supervisor" I'm an orientee...I basically do the work at this point, while my preceptor sits at the nurses station and says "let me know if you need help" and then when I ask for some "you have to do that for yourself, you GOTTA LEARN..."
I told the nurse on the phone, "yeah, I was going to do that after I told you guys I wasn't going in. Hopefully, they'll find another orientee to cover for me."
Christ on ice skates! No brilliant thinker there. This is what I work with.
Today, and yesterday, too, really, my head's been aching. Right behind the eyeballs, sometimes behind the frontal sinuses.
Could be that I'm not sleeping right. Could be a tumor. Could be the heater dumping CO into the house (almost died of carbon monoxide poisoning once, in Minnesota) or it could be the lack of coffee since I'm not drinking it during the day, but after I wake up at night.
In any case, my head is killing me and I'm going to call in sick tonight. I have had two nights off in a row, and if I take tonight off, I'll effectively have a total of 4, or is it 5, nights off in a row.
I desperately need a break. This place is working me to the ground.
I went to class yesterday at UCSF (med surg emergencies) and it was interesting. During the break, I went up to talk to the Nurse Educator and mentioned to her that I was interested in their critical care training program, and that I'd missed it for summer despite applying in the first week of march. She gave me some people's names and told me to apply now, etc, and seemed excited about my education and my experience in an ICU. The drawback: if I go here, it will be in February, and I'd have to commit to one year of service to them. This puts me out of the running for Columbia, and forces me to REapply. Worse, this forces me to have to ask for reference letters. Right now, I can't imagine this; I'm the boob that doesn't know shit--what sort of reference letters would I get from my current employer? I shudder to think.
I got an email from someone at Columbia, in the CRNA program. She describes understanding what I was going through all last year, since she and her SO are now hating New York and want to leave, but if she leaves, she's in the same boat I am...having to find a new place, and reapply to new programs, so they're toughing it out for an unbearable 3 more years.
This matches the email I got from another gal, who went back home to San Diego, with hopes of applying at USC and a few other schools, but essentially said the same: how can I ask for references now, and how can I let my spot go?
it's a tough call.
If I go to UCSF, I could get 2/3 tuition paid by them to continue on in their NP program, but what would I do? I really wanted to do anesthesia...would acute care be a happy place for me? I don't think so, but it would be a far cry better than bedside care, which is wearing me the hell out.
Tired, Tired. and wanting so desperately to find a residency that will actually train me on some acute care. You know that type of thing I want: This means this...when a patient has labs that look like that it can be only one thing...that sort of thing.
I had an admission, AND a discharge last night. 4000 forms.
I learned a lot about paperwork.
When the shit hits the fan, and I'm on my own in a few weeks/month, I'm not going to know shit about shit. I wouldn't mind the paperwork if I were getting SOME, ANY, critical care stuff.
Ah, he's starting to crash? Hold on...I know just the form to fill out!
came home this morning and konked out just before 9:00. I felt myself fading like I haven't done in a while--the knowledge that in T-60 I would be out like a light and nothing was going to wake me. I got myself between the sheets and sure enough, didn't wake until just before 3:00 PM.
My sleep has been so screwy, and my schedule for everything all topsy-turvy. I've decided to make 3:00 like my 7:00 am. Wake up, have an espresso, my Omega fatty acid supplements, make a late lunch for the hubby who's been tiptoe-ing around (and getting the dog to be quiet) all morning, and then the morning ablutions.
Finally, a schedule. Some regularity!
Last night I was in a deep, deep funk leading up to going to work. I worked with Wilma, a very nice Philipina in her 50s, maybe, but looking like she's in her mid 30s. She's quiet, and she's always tired, so I mostly let her pretend she was looking at the cardiac monitors while she dozed off, and did my thing on my own. Later she checked my paperwork.
I take the patient's flow sheets into their room, and write down their urine output for the hour, write down their vital signs, check them, turn them if need be, etc, and somehow this helped me stay on top of the charting. Ironically, both my patients last night were history of EtOH abuse, one with urosepsis and pancreatitis with a possible hx of un-dx DM.
So, the deep funk: I like Wilma and she managed to get me out of the funk because she always makes me smile. All day I had been thinking about how much I dislike this place...how I'm not learning anything remotely acute care, but rather their system for paperwork flow. This is a huge part of nursing, I'm aware, but I NEED a year's worth of acute care stuff. Columbia's Anesthesia program won't care if I know how to take off orders, or how to admit a patient, or discharge them. They are going to want to know if I can recognize someone who's about to head south fast, and what to do about it. (I don't.)
So, while my friends in NY have all JUST finished up 20 week residencies with classrooms and preceptors to ask questions to, I've just been learning where the linens are, who to call to page an orderly, where to take a body after patients die, etc.
Yesterday I came to the harsh realization that I've been miserable because of "Expectations." In the Buddhist sense attachment (to anything, ideas, hopes, expectations) breeds suffering and I sure have been doing that. I guess I was expecting I'd be picking up some stuff, learning some acute care stuff, when in fact they've overworked me to get me to learn to "prioritize and manage the load of two patients."
While they smile and say "let me know if you need help" they gladly refuse it to you when you ask and say "nope, you have to learn to do that for yourself." or if you ask them a question about a situation, med or pathophysiology, they say "Well, what do YOU THINK it is?"
Fucker...if I had the first inkling, or time to look shit up, wouldn't I do that before asking you?
Then the monster comes out of my head and I clamp down. I put my head down and work without asking anymore questions. I just try to make it thru my shift and my mind goes to its happy place: Back at Columbia, sitting in a classroom, in the anesthesia program with all this behind me.
Funny, eh? My happy place has become Columbia...yes, that's how bad it is NOW.
Ah, the snow, and crappy food...the lack of organization and bullshit. The good ol' days!
So, I came to the crap decision yesterday that no matter what, I have to find a new ICU placement. One with a residency, proper classroom setting, books, hand outs, organized curriculum...in short: UCSF.
Those nurses are on top of stuff. It's odd how during the first two classes, I was ahead of them as far as EKG and recognizing cardiac arhythmias, but during the hemodynamics class, a short month later (they had been continuously going to critical care classes, and I was returning for a second class) they were leaps and bounds ahead of me. Blew me out of the water with their quick answers when I was in the complete dark about what the lecturer was going on about.
But I know how to take off orders.
excellent.
So, I updated my resume, and I will see if I can get into the next training cycle at UCSF. When I quit this job, I'm going to go in and tell my nurse manager that I've found a critical care program that I want to attend. They had said they would look for a program for me to attend, but instead they've been sending me to these peicemeal courses hear and there which don't add up to the same thing.
She'll object, saying I need to run it by the education department and our boss will have to approve the spending and they've already spent X amount on my courses, while walking away from me, but I'll say "no...I'm resigning to go attend a critical care course offered by another hospital. Thanks for everything."
BWAH ha ha ha.
That's going to be awesome. I know this is petty, but it's pay back for all the shit they've been putting me through.
I will undoubtedly lose the ability to go back to Columbia...maybe. Becuase they won't understand what I was doing at this ICU for 6 months and if it was bad enough to leave, why should they count it? OR I will have to obligate myself to a year's service and then won't be able to return to New York and lose my spot.
Then it comes to why I was in a funk: If I lose my spot, I have to reapply to all sorts of schools all across the nation. I have to RE-ask everyone for letters of reference. Think on that one--I'll have how much experience? and have to ask people "hey, as a new nurse, would you recommend me for this?"
That in itself is going to take a few years. And my health will probably deteriorate to the point where I can't endure school anymore, the hours, the sleep deprivation...what in my 50s?
So the funk comes from being trapped midway, in a place I hadn't even intended for more than a year for myself. My fate's been decided for me in a place I never wanted to be.
Originally, I was going to go for my NP in Acute care. At least, with MS, I could be an Acute Care NP. I would do some bedside assessment, go back, write a few things in the chart, and leave. This job is so god damned physical that it was a crap shoot I'd be able to do it for even a year.
I'm spent.
So, there is the funk for you. Imagine if you had come to the realization that you're probably going to be trapped indefinitely at a job you never picked, on your way to another job you WERE hoping for.
We'll see what UCSF says. At the very worst, I'll reapply to UCSF and go back to the idea of Acute care NP. I've heard it's easier to get into UCSF once you have a BSN.
that's all I have to say about that. Be well, peeps.
I think I see your problem, here...you have no brain.
I just want to go to bed now and yet this is when I have to stay up. So, I'll tell you about the baking I did earlier tonight. I made my super good oatmeal cookies that I always make (I'll share the recipe with ya, in case you want to make them) and I made a pretty decent carrot cake with the pulp from my juicer.
I've been using the Champion Juicer with more regularity. As with all juicers, the clean up is what makes you not pull it out of the cupboard, but I am getting used to it so it goes faster each day.
It's great to be able to get all the vitamins from all 5 or 6 veggie and fruit servings in one glass, without filling up. I juiced 4 carrots, a pear and a plum. If I had to eat those, I'd be so full it would pretty much take me all day to eat them, and I wouldn't be able to eat anything else. I'm the first person to advocate eating LOTS of veggies and fruits for the fiber, but I'm losing weight steadily, and at my height, I'm starting to look like I have an eating disorder...I think the people I work with think I have issues, anyway. They're very concerned with what I eat and when and how much, but they all outweigh me by several, several pounds.
Anyway, I always hate throwing out the pulp, and I was pleased to see the Jack Lalane juicer comes with a recipe book for creatively using the pulp.
SO--here goes; my take on carrot cake. Adapted from How to Cook Everything by Mark Bittman...it's one of the most used books in my kitchen.
1 & 1/4 cups whole wheat flour 1 & 1/4 cups all purpose flour 1/2 cup cornmeal 1 tablespoon baking powder 1/2 teaspoon salt 3/4 cup sugar 2 eggs 1/4 cup (half stick) melted butter 1 & 1/3 cups milk 1 cup grated carrot (mixed with fruit pulp is good, too) 1/2 teaspoon vanilla extract 1/2 teaspoon ground cinnamon
mix dry ingredients together, mix wet ingredients together in separate bowl, combine by making a well in the dry ingredients and add wet ingredients. Mix until well blended. Pour into a greased 5x9 loaf pan and bake in a preheated oven at 350 degrees for about an hour+15 or 20 minutes.
tastes a bit more like corn bread, than an overly sweet carrot cake. I really like it and will make it again.
Now here's those cookies. Every time I make these they're very popular and I must have given the recipe away a dozen times now.
1 stick (8 tablespoons) butter, softened 1/2 cup sugar 1/2 cup brown sugar 2 eggs, room temp 1 cup whole wheat flour 1/2 cup all purpose flour 2 cups rolled oats 1/2 teaspoon ground cinnamon pinch of salt 2 teaspoons baking powder 1/2 cup milk 1/2 teaspoon vanilla extract Then, I add a couple of fists full of either raisins, or milk chocolate chips, tonight I made them with bittersweet chocolate chips and a bit of chopped pecans.
in a large bowl, mix the flour with the softened butter, into a crumbly meal. When it's well blended, add the rest of the dry ingredients and mix well with a fork. Slowly add the wet ingredients, and mix. Bake on a cookie sheet in an oven preheated to 375 degrees for about half an hour or just until the edges start to turn golden brown. The book says 15 minutes, but in my oven, they're still wet at this time.
and that's all I have to say for tonight I guess. (sigh)
well, the nights on are not a problem...staying awake, I mean. I think for my first night I had been on about 4 hours sleep total for the entire three days leading up to that night, and last night, I managed to get about 4 or 5 hours of sleep.
I mean yesterday.
Or, the day before yesterday. I'm not sure. That's one downfall of this night stuff--you never have the same point of reference as other people do...for most of us, our sleep cycle separates the days. You wake up and it's a new day. For people who work nights, the new day starts at midnight and ends, who knows when...when you go home and fall asleep, you wake up and it's still the same day. You take a quick nap before going to work that night and it's still the same day! How can it be that I go to work twice in one frigging day!?
When do I take my vitamins, brush my teeth, bathe, shop for food, etc? It's not the same as when you sleep nights and walk the earth by day. There's a definite "time" to do things that gets all out of whack when you reverse sleep patterns like this.
In any case, I think my first career choice prepared me well for sleep-deprivation. If sleep were water, I'd be a camel.
Another downside is that one must adjust to activities allowable during nocturnal hours. I had all these great ideas about baking (this has the two-fold benefit of warming up the house, because we usually turn the heater off at night, and filling the pantry with yummy baked things.) I was envisioning myself studying while waiting for scones and bread to come out of the oven. Or cleaning out my study and organizing my bookshelves, the closets, sewing and knitting...
As if.
I tiptoe around the house so as to not wake the hubby and dog, still on diurnal schedules.I'm sure I'm being overly careful. He keeps telling me I don't have to be so quiet, but I don't want to wake him. All my kitchen cabinets squeak like mad and I'm sure, wake the elderly neighbors next door to our common wall house every time I open them.
So, so far...my first night off has consisted of realizing that I need every gadget sold on infomercial prime time.
Is it that when we are laying awake, insomnia-stricken, our judgement is impaired and we really want that Magic Bullet to mix up omlettes and muffin mix and then grind coffee beans and make guacamole and salsa all in under 10 seconds? Am I supposed to overlook the fact that all the food has been prepped, chopped for them, or is sized to fit perfectly already? Why don't they count this prep time in the total time it takes to make their food? I can't wash and rinse, chop and prep all my veggies as they did and THEN use the blender. I also don't have 400 of them, so I'd have to stop and wash it between menu items. Did you get a little egg in your mochacino? So sorry.
Another sucky thing: I've watched more television in this last week than I have since I've been home from New York. Well, ok, maybe that's a bit of an exaggeration, but it FEELS that way. I don't like the tv, but I find that I'm watching it for company, and what's worse--my standards have dropped significantly.
I'm actually watching some idiotic Brendan Frasier movie (really bizarre!) and enjoying it--I have to find out what the name of this movie is and rent it to get the beginning of the story. It seems to be a sort of Tim Burtonesque craziness, or something.
I appologize for the prattling on...what the hell is a blog if not self-indulgent babble? I'm trying to not make it sound like the monologues of Sex and the City, but I'm not sure it's working.
So, with that, I will leave you, my friends, for tonight. Happy Thanksgiving/gobble-gobble/slaughter of the indigenous day. Whichever you observe.
Me? I'm planning on sleeping through most of it. That would be tomorrow, right? Or later today...Ah, I don't know.
(PS--I just googled "brendan frasier monkey" and found out the name of this movie. It's called "Monkey Bone" and was evidently harshly reviewed (D+) by most online reviews I saw. It's hilarious, though...I guess the reviewers were nocturnal sleepers and failed to see the brilliance of it all)
(Don't they use sleep deprivation as a form of torture, to break your will and brainwash you or make you susceptible to suggestion? Hmmmmm...perhaps this is why 3 am is prime infomercial time.)
Well, after trying to switch my sleep over to days and life to nights (unsuccessfully!) I went off to work last night at 11 pm and was surprised that I wasn't the least bit tired and the night flew by.
I was lucky in that the patient census is down, so I only got one patient. I was upset that Marie, my preceptor, informed me that I'd have to take the admission if there was one, but from her facial expression, she gave me that it wasn't her decision, that that came from higher sources and that she felt bad about it.
I told her I was feeling like "higher sources" were trying to pressure me to quit by treating me this way, which she denied--I told her I didn't feel I was actually learning anything "acute care" but rather How to juggle paperwork for two patients all day long.
The night crew, as everyone told me, was way cooler, way more mellow, way friendlier, and super awesome. The other orientee, Andrea (a former traveler nurse with 2 years ER experience) was also there and she was very supportive and offered lots of advice. The other nurses were keen on planning thanksgiving eve dinner together, a potluck, and then a celebratory going out together to celebrate my and Andrea's arrival to nights. How cool is that? The other nurses on days purposely excluded me from conversations when I tried to join in. "oh, is that your new place?" I'd ask with interest as one of them was showing another pictures of a living room on the computer.
"No." (silence) and then back to talking to the other nurse about the pictures.
Not, "no, this is a place i'm thinking of buying..." or "No, this is a picture a contractor sent me of his work because I'm thinking of hiring him." Nothing but 'get the fuck out of this conversation.'
The night crew was full of opinions about the day staff and all I could do is smile and say "ya know...I....I can't talk bad about people"
But they knew I knew whom they were talking about, or what they were saying.
The day staff came on at 7 and didn't say hello. I left for the day and wished them all a good day and the only person to answer was one of the night staff that still remained.
Good ridance, bitches. Take your strangeness and be gone. Nights rock. Now all I have to worry about are the codes.
My older brother was my hero when I was a kid, and I pretty much grew up trying to please and impress him. At the age of five, he had taught me the names of all the tools he used when working on his car, so I like a surgical nurse, would sit on the sidelines next to his tool box and wait for him, under the car, laying on a scrap of cardboard or a carpet remnant, to say "five eighths combination..." holding out his hand, expecting a 5/8ths combination wrench to be placed there.
I remember that teaching me the fractions was the hardest part for him, and nearly where he gave up on me. Did I mention I was about FIVE?
Through my adolescence, there was only one really close GIRL friend, and we were like twins--went everywhere together, dressed alike...we even had our own language that we had made up--hillarious.
We eventually grew up and apart as is common, but it was mostly a major rift between us that stemmed over lies and lying that tore our nearly lifelong friendship apart. I can't forgive ethical and moral flaws. Flaws are one thing...to find out things about someone's moral fiber that deeply goes against yours is sometimes too much.
Having spent so much of my life surrounded by male things--cars, sports, and so on, I've not been encultured properly to the world of women. I even chose a very male-dominated profession which I hadn't realized, was pretty hassle-free and laid back for the most part.
Nursing, for the most part, is still a very female dominated profession. While I do work with a few men, and find that it's easier to interact with them, largely I find I'm spending most of my time trying to decipher what the hell things mean when they are said the way they are.
I got into trouble the other day when my preceptor said "we need to call Dr. S and ask her _____." OK, I thought. :| right?
Think about that comment coming from a guy: "We need to ______." It means absolutely NOTHING. It's a statement like "the sky is blue" or "the cat is in the yard." This is a form of PASSIVE speech which doesn't effectively communicate to the listener anything. It's great for prose, and fiction (again--stupid paperback books women spend endless hours reading...what is the POINT of fiction writing for crying out loud?! You might as well be wasting your time in front of the televion, while you're at it!)
But, I digress.
Passive speech: "We need to do this and that." Active speech: "Call Dr. So-and-So and tell her this and that." THAT would have at least conveyed to me that it was an expectation for me to handle this task. At the end of the day it was "did you call Dr. So and so to tell her____?"
"Uh, No, I thought you were going to do that." What I really wanted to say is "What's this 'WE' shit...what are you, Queen Elizabeth?" But I didn't.
A militant lesbian I once worked with pointed out how women almost always speak passively, and that she liked that I didn't do this. "You ever notice that women will talk AROUND what they really want, rather than just coming out and SAYING what they want? They will say 'It's cold in here' when what they really mean is 'Shut the window.' Why is that? Why?"
When I had to write papers for AFROTC, we were severely marked down for using a passive voice EVER. The simplest thing was analysed. The book is on the desk. Period...not "the desk, upon which the book had been placed..."
Men are more direct. Men speak actively. "Get the fuck out of my way" not "I can't see the television" or "you make a better door than a window..."
I need a woman to English dictionary. Perhaps I need to write it. "We need to..." translates as a direct order. Come to think of it, the mafia uses indirect speech to communicate. This eliminates blame on anyone giving an order. "That guy makes a lot of noise" might translate to "kill that bastard before he talks too much."
Come to think of it, women are like a mafia. One is definitely either in or out, and I'm always on the out. But, I'd rather be. My life is much happier without being part of the whisper pow-wows that take place in corners of the nurses' station, about he said/she said, he did/she did, or any OTHER type of unneccessary BS. "Who gives a RAT'S ASS?!" I keep wanting to say when I hear anything like this...If you only knew how much time out of a womman's life is wasted on talking shit that does NOT MATTER in any way...life is too short to be spending my time watching "Desperate Housewives" or "Grey's Anatomy", then talking about it all the next day as if they're real people (UGH!) or reading fiction, or talking shit about other people behind their backs.
In short, the few women that I've come to be close friends with over the years (my mom especially) are NOTHING like the archetypal woman; I really hate women, usually. I don't understand them, don't like their company, don't love working with them for the most part. The thing I'm starting to realize is how rare it is to find a female who does not belong to this she-wolf pack of catty, vicious beasts.
Working with these types has certainly made me appreciate my female friends as being exceptions to the catty woman norm, and I salute them for being bigger and better than that, for talking about more than television, or fiction novels, or other people behind their backs (ah, my preceptor was also busted talking shit about one of the female docs, whom I think is great, but they hate her, inside our locker area when the doc had come in to the lounge to have lunch, and was on the other side of the door hearing what they really thought of her...how embarrassing--you think this would cure her of ever talking shit behind someone's back? It would cure me, but she probably got over it quickly.)
I'm selling out the sisterhood here, I've been told. Fuck the sisterhood. Bros before Hoes, I say.
I was musing on the way to work today that I'm going to miss the crisp November mornings. The light has been amazing these past couple of days...the sky an indescribable shade of blue, the clouds black and pink, the trees are red and dropping their leaves--in Italian, we'd say "Mozzafiatto" (a breath flattener, or breathtaking, I guess. I like flattener of breath better.)
I have only two more day shifts to work before switching to nights, and though part of me is anxious to get away from the strange games women play (I think the night crew is a bit more laid back) I am going to greatly miss daylight.
The mediterranean is in my DNA, for crissakes...how am I to live without the sunshine?!
Those of you who know me know me well enough to understand this: I have a plan.
I plan to use the nights when I'm off to study for going back to school. I will pour over acute care/critical care books and get really really comfortable (hopefully) with the physiology of acute care.
It really bums me out to have been taking care of a very good looking young man (44) who was recovering from a surgery, and then coded, only to be lying in a vegitative state for the last week or so...it's so damned sad. ugh--I can see how this can happen to anyone, and I try to treat every one of my patients with the dignity, care and respect that I would want to be treated with, and what's more, that I would want anyone I care about to be treated with. I can see my own end, someday, lying in a vegitative state in a random hospital bed, full of bed sores, unable to move under my own power, no one giving two fucks about me being there, the nurses saying "doesn't she have any family?" and so forth. It's a damned shame how most of us come to an end, it is.
In short, it's depressing this job. Every day I wonder how people can do this for years and years. We develop a macabre sense of humor, to be sure, and we develop a sense that our time is numbered. We too shall walk down this path to the end of our own personal trails...
I guess I am looking forward to going back to school. In fact, I don't want to let the opportunity go by me and give up my spot at Columbia to risk not getting into another program. Screw it, I'll just suck it up and go back next year and be done asap.
Tomorrow I'm going to hang the thick dark purple (almost black) curtains I got for the downstairs bedroom, where we have to relocate to. It kinda creeps me out a bit to go back down there to sleep...that's my old bedroom, the one I slept in as a teenager, the one I snuck in and out of in the middle of the night, the one G and I moved back into when my mom grew very sick toward the end of her life...I can almost hear her padding around lightly upstairs, back and forth to the bathroom at night. That's going to be hard. I'm almost afraid I'll dream she cracks the door open and says something to me the way she used to. After she died, we moved upstiars and changed everyhing around. Her room became my study, lined with bookshelves, and my drafting table, and desk...and her sewing machine. The room I slept in as a baby is now my bedroom, but it gets WAY too much light for a day sleeper, so back downstairs I go.
Where's Anne Rice when I need her? This sort of thing would have appealed to me when I was about 21 years old...but at twice that age, I only dread the idea of day sleeping.
I have found a gorgeous (but expensive) pool for a morning swim, after my hectic shifts, and then I'll come home, walk the pooch, and settle in for a sleep.
I'm going to start collecting pictures of sunny beaches to put on my desktop at work--just to remind me. A terrace in Tuscany, with the orange glow glinting off the terra cotta tiles of neighboring roofs, the swaying palm on a white sand beach of some tropical island...it's only temporary, I tell myself. And everyone has had to do it. It's not the end of the world.
Still, my biggest fear is dying suddenly without having a chance to ever see the sun again. New York is 10 months away. Miles to go before I sleep and all that sort of stuff. PS--how do the Nordics handle this long dark winter crap?!
Pretty much, I have been taking care of two patients now on my own for about a week. The hard thing is that this place is still paper charting. I can't stand the paper charting!
Admitting a patient from the ED takes forEVER! There must be 40 forms and shit that get all compiled and cross referenced, filled out in triplicate and sent off to different places...ARGH!
On top of the hourly ins and outs, and vital signs, etc.
I'm actually thinking for most of the day "it's only for another 9 or 10 months...then it's back to School.
I go on nights in two weeks...not looking forward to THAT, either!
The nice thing is how every single one of us at the ETP anesthesia program have stayed in contact and pretty much all the same shit I'm saying is the exact same stuff they're saying. They treat me like crap, I feel like an idiot...yadda yadda.
Nice to know I'm not alone.
So far, my patients are doing great, their meds are on time and no screw ups there...but that paperwork...oy vey GEVALT!
