What would you do if you had a clean utility supply room at home?

Share some crazy or actual ideas you would use supplies and equipment found in the clean utility supply room…

IV gravity lines = used to water your plants indoor if you are always busy at work and have no time to take care of your plants… replace NS bag with water and set the rate to 1ml/hr? hehe…

Sterile cloth covers used to wrap sterile trays = use them as a mat on your car during muddy or rainy days..

100 CC syringes = used for baking. e.g. filling up cream puffs ?

foley /condom cath = Road tripping without pee breaks… ^_^

*disclaimer : taking supplies to home from your facility is considered stealing*


Clinical manifestations of a nursing student:

1. You have CA of the pockets
2. You have no social life
3. Your house is never clean
4. Your marriage is on the rocks
5. Your night out is a study group
6. Your family doesn’t recognize you
7. You have dark circles under your eyes
8. You have carpal tunnel syndrome from writing care plans
9. You have scoliosis from lugging nursing books
10. You always have alcohol pads in your pocket
11. You feel SOB most of the time
12. You ache for help STAT

Top Ten Reasons To Become A Nurse

1. Pays better than fast food, though the hours aren’t as good.

2. Fashionable shoes & sexy white uniforms.

3. Needles: It’s better to give than to receive.

4. Reassure your patients that all bleeding stops eventually.

5. Expose yourself to rare, exotic, & exciting new diseases.

6. Interesting aromas.

7. Courteous & infallible doctors who always leave clear orders in perfectly legible handwriting.

8. Do enough charting to navigate around the world.

9. Celebrate the holidays with all your friends, at work.

10. Take comfort that most of your patients survive no matter what you do to them.

What I learned at clinical…so far

I found out CBR stands for complete bed rest AFTER I had gotten the patient up in a chair, and she had sat up for at least fifteen or twenty minutes!

Limit your fluid intake before a test. I thought I was doing a really good thing by drinking  ginseng vitamin water before a test (certainly couldn’t hurt, right?!?) Yeah…I almost blew up and I **finally** told the teacher that I had to go RIGHT NOW, and when she knew I wasn’t kidding, she let me go.

I haven’t had vitamin water since, and I stop all fluids 2 hours prior.

Mind your own business, give it 110% and always stay on top of things- Do NOT fall behind!!

I learned that I actually do learn something from all the careplans I have to do.

Bedpans do have a front and back for a reason.

Always close the Foley bag up again after you empty it.

If your clinical instructor looks like the Tasmanian She-Devil, it could be because she is. You can run, but you can’t hide.

There is only 3 things you should run for in a hospital
Cardiac Arrest
Severe Haemorrhage
Your pay.

I learned the hard way that bathing a patient is a great way to relieve constipation!! But they can only go AFTER the clean sheets are on!

When you are taking a patient that has chronic diarrhea down to x-ray for a test…………………………….Put a pad on the wheelchair.
When you are pulling out an I.V…………………………Shut it off first.

Sliding to Clinical

When I woke up this morning, the world was one enormous sheet of ice. Very pretty I thought, as I got ready for clinical. Twenty minutes later, as the car slithered and swerved down the third completely un-salted street, I was making futile bargains with the goddess: “I swear, if I could just get to the hospital in one piece, I’ll volunteer at the soup kitchen, I’ll compost this summer, I’ll only buy organic!”

Getting to the hospital, I breathed my thanks and staggered inside. Two people ended up calling off because of the ice. As for me, I spent all day squishing around in my soaking, icy nursey shoes, feeling my toes slowly prune up.

After clinical, I got soaking wet waiting for the shuttle to school and in desperation, went and bought some flannel sweat pants, an oversized tee shirt, and a pair of ridiculous rainbow socks that proclaimed that they were “My Lucky Socks”. None of these items even remotely went together and I got some extremely odd looks from the staff at school.

I’m finally at home now, just said good night to my little sister and her zoo (she has only two boys, but I swear they multiply when I’m not looking) and now have some space in which to breathe.

Today was one of those “shoulda stayed in bed” days

Unnatural Mother

I love my kids so much.

This may not sound like such a surprising thing until you know that I can’t stand kids.

When my daughters were 3 and 1, they were noisy, unattractive, demanding, time-consuming little people and it took everything I had in me not to smack their little heads together and run away from home. Their sticky hugs and kisses, which most mothers seem to find so endearing, set my teeth on edge. I had to force myself to be demonstrative and affectionate when I really felt exasperated and even repelled.

Thankfully, as they get older, the feeling is passing into respect and genuine “like” for the people they are becoming and I now know that I am capable of lying well enough to this new “bundle of joy” that he will never suspect (until he stumbles on this blog) what an absolutely unnatural mother I am. My secret is out to my eldest daughter though. She is thirteen now and sees everything. I was on the living room couch cuddling the baby and crooning nonsense at him while he drank his bottle when she came in, watched for a minute and said, “you don’t like babies much, huh mom?”.


Believing is seeing

Why is it that as nurses we are so quick to label people? The Frequent Flyer. The Drug Seeker. The Whiner. When you see a patient do you see them, or do you see what the previous shifts nurse saw? Did he/she see the patient, or did someone else or the patient’s chart tell them what to see? Let’s look at these “problem patients” one at a time.

The Frequent Flyer

O.K. So the frail older lady down the hall has been admitted to this floor 15 times in the last year. Maybe she has a complicated disease process, maybe she likes the decor, or maybe she lives alone, is a widow with no grown kids and no friends and the hospital is just where she gets a little TLC. Whether it’s one of the above or something else entirely, she doesn’t deserve to be ignored or have her complaints of pain shunted aside. And before some exhausted full time RN jumps down my throat….yes, I do, to some extent “know how it is”. I’ve been a CNA for over 10 years and have seen my share of all of the above. It IS frustrating if you let it be. Sometimes you have people that “really” need the care and this lady is “just taking up space”. Here’s my ten cents: loneliness, neglect, and depression can make you sick. Staring at the same walls for months on end can make you want to end your life. I’m not saying we should spend tons of extra time on this patient, just equal time. Every patient deserves equal care…and if this patient gets treated warmly and compassionately, she’ll probably be less likely to blow up the nurses station with her call bell!


The Drug Seeker

That guy that asks for his dose of pain meds at least an hour before they’re due. It could be breakthrough pain, but you know better because he looked homeless when they brought him in, because he said he used to do drugs but not anymore, because his wound isn’t really that bad and can’t hurt as much as he says, right? Yeah, sure, it could be one of those. Who cares!? How is it any skin off a nurses nose to administer what’s prescribed, for a patient who says he hurts? So he wants you to push it fast…sorry buddy, have to do it this way…but why worry about his addiction, real or imagined. Addicts have pain too, it’ll keep him from calling you every 2 minutes if he can’t feel it, if he builds a tolerance…wait, will he really be here long enough for that to happen?…and if he is, can’t he be weaned off slowly once the pain gets better?

The Whiner

We all know and love this last one. It’ll usually be the biggest, toughest-looking guy on the unit but he sobs for his mother if you even look crosseyed at his sutures. Don’t we all get a perverse satisfaction from lurking in the hall outside his door so we can hear everything while the poor resident debrides his wound! Pain tolerance is a funny thing, isn’t it? The tiny old lady that won’t call for pain meds no matter how much it hurts and the big biker-dude who wants them for a hangnail and faints at the sight of his own blood!

Each of these patients has come into my life in one form  or another. Sometimes the personality diagnosis was right on, and just as often it was completely off base. I’ve learned to take each patient as they come, without the stigma of what their chart says or even what the night shift thinks. Yes, I listen to the report…and then I forget it, go say hello to the patient, and let them show me who they are.

Clinical Woes

This  morning, I entered the clinical unit confidently, listened to report, alerted my nurse that I would be providing care for one of his patients, and jaunted off to introduce myself to my patient….The day went quickly South from there.

My guy was 70 years old with about a hundred tattoos. He had returned to the floor after an I&D for a pretty stinky incision that didn’t do well after his cervical spine surgery. He was a pleasant guy and we got on just fine. I held his hand as he got his PICC placed and when they ended up having to retract it. I provided all the AM care and got his meds ready and everything was ok until I had to hang a bag of vanco. Now, I’ve had that Alaris training and have even hung a few bags before but it seemed that over my recent Yule break I had lost whatever minor skill I possessed with the stupid machine and fumbled my way through the entire process, with my clinical instructor standing behind me very patiently indeed and calmly walking me through the bits I was screwing up. First, I didn’t spike the bag fast enough and there were tons of air bubbles all through the line. Then the damn dolphin (an electronic, supposedly time saving, safer way of documenting meds, which hardly ever works properly, even after you wait for it to boot up—can you feel the love?) wouldn’t register the med and I pressed the little buttons until my instructor took pity on me and punched the right one for me. I breathed a sigh of relief and resolved not to let it bring me down. A few hours later, my patient’s pump started screeching. Air in the line (silence…restart), occluded something or other (straighten patient’s arm, silence, restart), BIG BUBBLE over an inch long followed by two more…YIKES (clamp line and yammer incoherently to my nurse until he followed me into the patient’s room to see what I was on about)…and so on. Then I tried to empty a wound vac that was not designed to be emptied and to ice the clinical cake I forgot how to chart a couple of things. When is it that you lose the inept feeling and really start to get it?! At the end of every semester I’m bored and certain that NOW I’ve gotten confident enough that even in my mistakes I will gracefully and calmly ask for help and not repeat retarded moves from previous terms….and at the start of every semester, I feel…well…retarded!

Good friends, good books and a sleepy conscience: this is the ideal life

Sleepy conscience isn’t the right phrase to describe what I feel was Mark Twain’s way of saying some social mores are ridiculous. If I find a societal ‘tradition’ invalid for me (such as a marriage certificate or raising my kids on good old-fashioned lies) then my conscience doesn’t have to be sleepy to allow me to have the ideal life; I discard it. In some cases, when the tradition is deeply ingrained even while you realize that it doesn’t make sense, the sleepy conscience becomes a necessity to prevent mental turmoil.

Good friends and books are indispensible, however.

Words of wisdom

What work I have done I have done because it has been play. If it had been work I shouldn’t have done it. Who was it who said, “Blessed is the man who has found his work”? Whoever it was, he had the right idea in his mind. Mark you, he says “his work”–not somebody else’s work. The work that is really a man’s own work is play and not work at all. Cursed is the man who has found some other man’s work and cannot lose it. When we talk about the great workers of the world we really mean the great players of the world. The fellows who groan and sweat under the weary load of toil that they bear never can hope to do anything great. How can they when their souls are in a ferment of revolt against the employment of their hands and brains? The product of slavery, intellectual or physical, can never be great.

                                                                                         –Mark Twain

(This piece had me nodding my head in agreement! How many people really love what they do?)

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