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.

9.30.2008

Pop Quiz!

It's the first day of my second clinical rotation, and my first day IN the hospital. We're 1.5 hours into the day, if you came to find me, what do you think I'd be doing?

a. Giving a patient a bath.
b. Changing a patient's linens
c. Taking a tour of the unit I'll be working on
d. drawing a picture of a "healing space" with colored pencils.

It's hour 4 of my second clinical rotation, and we're just about to be dismissed to lunch. How much of the preceding time was spent going over how to do the actual paperwork/what will be expected of us?

A. 3 hours
B. 2.25 hours
C. 1 hour
D. 35 minutes

It's hour 8 of my second clinical rotation. How much direct patient contact have I had today?
A. 1 hour
B. 2 hours
C. 4 hours
D. Zero hours


Answer Key (with rationale):
1. D: because obviously, doing some froofy artsy granola bullshit is far more important than that other stuff.

2. D: because obviously doing some froofy artsy granola bullshit is far more important than knowing what the hell I'm supposed to do next week when I research my patient.

3. D: because obviously doing some froofy artsy granola bullshit is far more important than knowing how to actually do direct patient care.

Like I've said before. Artsy shit will not save your stupid ass in a code. Not once, has someone said: "This man has no pulse! Quick! Get a posterboard, STAT!" Even if someone shits themselves, will you hear "Oh my, George crapped himself again, better draw him a picture of the ideal healing space. That oughta right 'im."

This is what I hate. The spend eons on stupid shit that doesn't matter, and gloss over IMPORTANT things at the speed of light, and expect you to grasp it in a nanosecond. Assholes. Then they bitch at you when you don't teach it to yourself, when A. that's their job, and B. if they'd spend a little less time worrying about my fucking chakras, and a little more time about the foley catheters, maybe we'd be a little more technically sound...

Anyway. School's lovely, thanks for asking.

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