deedley doodle. I don't want to study anymore. I kind of don't care anymore... except then when I stop studying I think.... maybe I should start studying again. It's a viscious cycle. So Basically I think more about studying then what I am actually studying. That way, when I take the test, I see a problem and say.. oh yeah.. remember when you were daydreaming about austrailia and listening to ingrid michaelson.... yeah... how do I do this again? Crap.
What else. Work was interesting this weekend. I guess it usually is. I don't think I am ever bored there. I dont' know if I really like what I'm doing, but while I'm there I don't have time to think about if I actually enjoy what I'm doing. I'm afraid to even go to the bathroom at times. What if my vent becomes disconnected and the alarm goes off ...and everyone thinks, eh, somebody else will get it. But then when I come back like 2 minutes later after peeing I find my patient all blue and not doing so hot. Sucky. This last weekend I was helping my preceptor get somebody off the commode and into bed, and all the sudden he just started bleeding from his butthole. A WHOLE lot. He passed out while we were helping him back to bed. When we got him back to bed he basically was hemmorhaging out his butthole. Nooooo goooooodd. So I hit the code button because I was closer. that's basically all I did. Then 20 other people showed up in the room and I left because I can't do anything until I'm 'code certified.' Which will be in like a year or two. More like two.
Today I was looking back at my old blog in june about this guy with a testicular sepsis thing, you know, just for fun/laughs. Like how when you write a diary when you're 8 years old and go back to read what you wrote and laugh at how weird it was. Anyways, there was this comment from a random person, who said she was a nurse, and said i made the nursing profession seem very unprofessional and I shouldn't tell stories like this. Well... you didn't have to read it whoever you are. I guess that's all I have to say. Here is the same story I wrote before, re-written so you will like it....
June, 2008
I came to work today. I love being a nurse. I love helping other people and being compassionate towards others in their most extreme time of need. I also love green grass and fresh smelling laundry. I had the privelidge of taking care of a bariatric man today. I also had the wonderful company of his bi-polar wife. It was a very interesting and knowledgeable day which I will never forget. This poor man, with his large girth, could not reach down to wash himself properly. With all of the unhealthy food readily available, it is extremely understandable, and sad, that someone could get to be this size. It is not his fault, it is ours. He was not blessed with any opportunity for education, even with his tuition payed for from the government because of his american indian descent, he was unable to finish school. Therefore he was forced to work at a casino. In this unhealthy dirty environment, he picked up a smoking habit, and aquired testicular septicemia. All I can hope for at this point is that our medicare system, and a caring nursing team can support him through this difficult struggle.
Is that better?
More depressing news, ayesha is dead. My dad brought her to the junkyard while I was at work on saturday. I think she was smoking by the time she got there. ahhh ayesha. My one and only love. You are dead. I don't want to buy a car until I have more money saved up. Do you think if after it snows I could just buy a nice sled, a rope, a long stick and a hot dog and have sofie just take me everywhere?
