At week 14, this novice RN is reveling in new found confidences. I have had some amazingly busy patients recently and it has been such a great experience for me to see that I can, in fact, swim (as opposed to the much feared floundering/sinking... visualize an overacted scene from
Jaws). I'm not saying I am the next Michael Phelps, but I'm out there with my floaties around each arm and am dog-paddling the heck out of that water... "Look at me Mom!". I have had many opportunities to put on my critical-thinking-hat recently (my professors would be so proud), from juggling patient care for three very different psych-related cases, to providing care and appropriate interventions on a patient whose status was declining. Surprisingly enough, I have remained calm under pressure and have not been thrown by adversity or complications. And I must say, yet again, that I am absolutely
loving my job. The pediatric world is nothing less than amazing and I feel I am right where I belong. While driving to work the other day, it dawned on me that if I worked on an adult unit, I would feel very intimidated by the night shift rotation. Here's the scenario I laid out in my mind: it's 0400 and time to take those last set of vitals on your 100 kg, 49 y.o. male patient who was admitted for chest pain (either brought on by those 5 packs of cigarettes/day or that last Big Mac)... oh, and by the way, he
hates hospitals... which means he hates you. So be a big girl now and go wake him up to assess him. No thank you. I like my kiddos. I like talking about 'Thomas the Train' and by the way, my favorite color is green. So instead, I get to wake up a little 3 y.o. boy who will gladly let me do my assessment in-exchange for a warm milk [during which, he opens his bright brown eyes, looks around bewildered and asks, "What's that
noise?", to which I reply, "That's grandma (snoring)" and he looks back at me in complete disbelief that his "Mimi" can make such a sound]. Or I get the predictable teenager, who just sleeps through the entire thing. It's a great world indeed.
In other news, my very skiddish dog Miles has been accompanying Pete's mom to the elderly home where she visits his grandmother/ her mom. And would you have ever guessed that the same dog who "heads for the hills" if a plastic bag flies by him, is now considered some sort of therapy dog?! Well let me tell you friends, not only does he let everyone pet him (whether they come by foot, cane, walker, or wheelchair), they actually call him "Smiles" there! I think I have perhaps watched too many
Curb Your Enthusiasm episodes, because my dark humor leads to me envisioning him taking full advantage of some cute elderly woman with alzheimer's disease: he sits, raises his paw to shake, she does and rewards him with a treat; he sits, raises his paw to shake, she does and rewards him with a treat; and so on... and all the while he's thinking, "Lady, I can do this all day." and she thinks "Oh, look, a dog!".
Now, onto the gritty part of the post. (For those with weak stomachs... here is your stopping point.) Today I had the privilege of rounding/observing in the OR. I'm not going to lie, as I dressed down from my street clothes and into my OR scrubs, all I could think was, "Gosh, it's so quiet in here... where's all of the drama and sexual tension like in
Grey's Anatomy?" The first patient observation came in due to increased swelling forearm that previously had two rods placed. I was utterly fascinated by the amount of fluid and massive infection that had taken place within the arm. It was a very interesting procedure to see and I was once again impressed with my ability to stand and watch another human being's surgery. (During my labor and delivery rotation in nursing school, I had the opportunity to see a C-section. So I came into this OR experience thinking, "I've seen a
C-section, what else could compare to that... bring it on.") Well, it had been brought my friends, as the second surgical observation opportunity for the day was a below-the-knee-amputation. How could I
not go? So, in preparation, I scarfed down a peanut-butter protein bar and some water (not out of hunger, but out of fear of passing out in the OR and being pegged the obvious "rookie" in the room). Throughout the process I thought four things: 1) "I can't believe this is actually happening in front of my eyes!"; 2) "Ewg, burning flesh smells really gross."; 3) "Whoa, that Attending's fingers are
really close to the bone-cutting saw"; 4) "What should I have for lunch after this?". I feel that the wide-world of health care has opened my eyes to many things and I have been the witness to many amazing procedures... but
nothing thus far, compares to this one. I made it... I watched the entire procedure... I was front and center (without destroying the sterile field and without fainting to the floor). I was impressed throughout both observations, not just by the flow of the operating room nurses or the surgeons' techniques, but by everyone's willingness to let me observe and by their passion to teach.
~30's the new 20!
