Special Sauce

A mish-mash of twisted thoughts from a fevered ego. Updated when the spirit moves me, contents vary and may have settled during shipping. Do not open towards eyes. Caution: Ingestion of Special Sauce may cause hair loss, halitosis, and a burning sensation while urinating.


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So I'm now in the second of 2 well-earned days off this week. My aunt and uncle are in town, and we're having a blast. We went to quilt shops yesterday, and my dear, sainted mother picked up sock monkey print flannel (sort of like this) to make me a rag quilt (which I think I'm smart enuff to help with). I love the one my aunt made me, but it's just a smidge too short for good snuggling. (And the monkey one? I won't have to share.)

Anyway. That means I had 4 days worth of stories to tell.

#1. Wear. Your damn. Helmet. I can't say it often enough. And if you're too stupid to wear a helmet, at least sign an organ donor card, and carry it with you. Mhmkay?

That said: Dear doctors, when the nurse asks you for a shitload of Haldol, it's probably for a really good reason. Giving her a microscopic amount to give a patient that's been yelling, screaming, moaning, attempting to climb out of bed, (succceding at climbing out of bed), and pulling down everything within arm's reach, THEN telling her it's ok to put on restraints too, if she feels it's necessary, is a recipe for disaster.

Not only will the patient continue to scream and disturb everyone around them, they'll do it LOUDER, and continually ask for a "knife to cut these damn things off!" because you haven't sedated the patient, you've just totally pissed them off.

I swear, I heard that woman in my sleep.

Also: I realize that "hospital" and "Hilton" or "Hotel" sound very similar. In fact, they both begin with the letter "H." Neat, huh? However, the hospital is NOT a hotel. We will not "Get [you] a fucking milkshake," we rather get irritated when you decide to wander the halls without your heart monitor, dripping blood from your nose. We will "take away [your] fucking cell phone" too, if we have to. You've got a phone in your room. USE it. Oh, and if I was your nurse, I wouldn't have pleaded with you the 5 times you tried to leave AMA. I'd have just let you leave, and let YOU figure out how to get the nasal foley out.

Needless to say, there was much rejoicing when this jackass got transferred to another floor.

Side note: Little old ladies, I don't care if you "feel FINE", your doctor obviously thought that 245/120 blood pressure was a bit of a risk factor, and that perhaps uncontrolled atrial fibrillation was also not a good thing. Do not bitch at me because you're in the hospital. Do not bitch at me because we won't be letting you out of bed for a little while. Believe it or not, you ARE sick. That dude in the white coat with the shitload of education might know a little more than you do about your ticker, okay? If I let you run laps around the hallway, you're liable to keel over and die. Not on my watch, grandma.

And once again, I think it's awesome that you have a really great extended family. Your culture really encourages everyone to look out for each other. That's really cool, and sometimes I'm a little envious. However, your loved one lost his best friend, and his leg not too long ago- he's still on a critical care floor, and we have some rules. Namely, TWO of you (or dos, if you prefer) in the room at a time. Two does not equal six. (Dos y seis no estan similar.) Do not make us call security every shift, like the last unit did.

PS- if your family members hands are restrained, that's probably for a reason. If you untie them and he pulls out his NG tube, the nurse is going to want to strangle you with it. (And I'll probably watch and laugh.)


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