Rush Job

Yesterday started off in a rush. I'm late, to begin with. It's dark out and cold. No time to warm up the car. Put the radio on the right station so I can maybe win Modest Mouse tickets. So I park in the CEO's spot (he's never there on Saturdays and sometimes I get a ticket, sometimes I don't--much worse to walk in late) and rush across the street to the door. I'm about 5 paces behind a female resident who of course doesn't hold the door, letting it slam on me, which means I have to fish for my badge and swipe it. I grimly overtake her in the hall, passing her. Bitch. Then I lovingly let the elevator doors close on her before she can get on. Ha. No, I don't. I do pass her but when it comes to letting the elevator doors slam, when those damn elevators are so slow. I just can't do it. I'm a nice person with deep bitch fantasies. So I just sit and wait and fume and think bad thoughts as she catches up and jumps on the lift. Doctors treat nurses like we aren't even people. Like we're just ghosts. Well, they're so tired, we probably are to them.

Walk into our break room, which seems sort of empty. The reason? 3 nurses down. One hit a deer, two are no calls no shows. Hycwicz is one of the no calls/no shows. True to form, everyone is just sitting around. 'Where's Hycwicz? He's always here." Always. Hycwizc, aka "Wiz" is always here, 1/2 hour early, bald and ugly, scarred carp shaped head, knotted body of a boxer in his faded scrubs. He's like God, or Cerberus. He must be dead I think. "Did anyone call him" I ask the night shift sup, Mark. Mark's a friend of mine, funny, hip. Goatee, nice body, spiky bleached hair. Wiz hates his guts. Of course not. Of course no one called him. I call him--he thought he was going to class--scheduling conflict--he'll be in as soon as he can. As an aside, to anyone reading this: Give people the benefit of the doubt. 9 times out of 10 they deserve it. Call House Mom--"Maggie, I need 2 nurses." "I can get you them by 11." That'll have to do, I guess. 18 critically ill patients. 6 nurses.
"I'll stay til Gerald gets here." Mark says. (Gerald is Wiz's Christian name). So 2 down now. I take four patients. And I'm chargin'. At 9 we get another nurse, an agency guy, trembling in his boots--takes a pt coming back from the OR who went in for something simple but crumps upon arrival back in the unit. Pressures falling--Regina, prissy, plump, childless, hanging desperately to pretty (aren't we all) judgmental and treacherous weighs in--"He shouldn't have that critical a patient.--" She always does this. Always disses other nurses. I hate it. Never wants the responsibility of running the show, but always sitting up in the balcony throwing walnuts. An idea hits me like a flash--"Regina--you're right. But who knew? 14 was fine when he left the unit. Darling, would you please give our new guy your easiest patient and take over? You're such a good teacher, and they're going to be doing so many procedures on him--in fact, if you don't mind, I'll send all the orientees to you right now, so they can watch what's going on? Do you mine sharing your expertise?" Well, what could she say? I'll make a big deal of it with Nancy, our general mgr--how wonderful Regina is, blah blah blah barf and I bet queenie never dissses another nurse to me again. Cross your fingers.

Wiz showed up later and they found us another nurse by 11, so we did get staffed finally. I hand Wiz the supervisor pager-"Just keep going," he says. "You're driving."
So, 2 codes, 3 admits and 4 transfers later, it all worked out. It ended anyways, and no one died. I think everyone wants to kill me--but oh well.

I'd love to tell you more--so much great stuff to tell--but they just called me in to work.