I am angry and jaded that my 'edgy' blog has turned into some sort of self-help forum for myself.
I sort of pictured myself ending each post like Carrie Bradshaw, sat at my desk looking out the window and pondering to the sky, then taking a drag of my cigarette before typing:
Something that ends like this?
(Don't forget you have to read it letter by letter as if it's being typed for you.....)
Truth is I am sat on my sofa littered with empty cups and dishes from my day, wrapped in my throw blanket. And I look like shit. Not the sexy kind of shit, just plain shit.
Aaaaaaand I don't even smoke. The best I could do is seductively chew on a pencil, but that will just end in some sort of unattractive gagging, and it's funny, and you imagine how funny it would be if you were being watched, or if it was on TV, but then you realise you're alone and not being watched and then you feel a bit sad. And then you wonder if you ARE in fact being watched and start to feel a bit creeped out, close a door or two, check the kitchen and maybe flick a few more lights on just for safe measures. Do I do all of that?
No I do not. I did NOT just do that.
And then you read and re-read your post to see if it's any good, and wonder if people will think it's a bit crap, and then correct it grammatically, and then put some italics in here and there for good measure, then wonder if you typed the word measure too much, then realise no-one is going to read this anyways so SEND IT TO THE INTERNETS!
*Click*
Sunday 29 April 2012
Breathe
I don't want to quit.
I don't want to defer.
After my sobbing-session and a good sleep and a cup of tea I have made myself a list. My list justifies things for me and validates my aspiration to become a nurse, and why by hating this placement does not mean I am a crap, lazy, anxious student.
I don't want to defer.
After my sobbing-session and a good sleep and a cup of tea I have made myself a list. My list justifies things for me and validates my aspiration to become a nurse, and why by hating this placement does not mean I am a crap, lazy, anxious student.
- There are many forms of nursing. It's not 'one' job with varying degrees of 'how much adrenaline can you handle, if you can't hack emergencies then you're rubbish'. There are loads of different types and they are all valid and useful. Whether you work in the Emergency Department or a Stroke Rehabilitation Unit, or in the community changing dressings and making cups of tea you are contributing to the patient's journey of health, and each of these roles is NECESSARY AND RELEVANT.
- I do NOT like this type of nursing. I do not wish to pursue this type of nursing. I made this clear when applying to university that I would like to experience an acute setting (which I already have when I was in theatres and recovery) and I also stated that my main interest would be gaining experience in the community. This has not been considered AT ALL.
- I like to know my patients. 3-4 weeks or longer would suit me just fine. I want to be able to detect subtle changes in my patient after being with them for a while. I want to offer my patients a sense of continuity, familiarity, patience and time.
- I prefer patients with long-term issues, or chronic problems. NOT acute or short-term or emergencies.
- I don't want to be around death, or bad news, or big emotions. This isn't me. Who I am does not fit well with these types of situations. If I can't fix it or make it better or use my humour to make it better, then I can't do it. I choke up and I am useless. I am not prepared to mould myself into something I am not to please people who feel I should be able to do it. Why not utilise me for what I am good at? Distribute me somewhere I am useful. I am not useful on AMU. I am, quite frankly, a quivering wreck. It is affecting me to the point of wanting to leave.
- I have been matched to the perfect opposite of what I want to do and achieve out of my time at university. This placement is a step back for me and a waste of my time, AMU's time, my mentor's time, and my university's time.
- My health is actually being affected by this placement. I am anxious, nervous, scared, terrified, crying, exhausted and drained. All after 3 days work.
- Today I briefly (for a nanosecond) considered living under the floorboards of my lounge for the duration of my placement. I don't know how that would work out or benefit me in any way, but, I BRIEFLY CONSIDERED LIVING UNDER THE FLOORBOARDS IN MY LOUNGE FOR THE DURATION OF MY PLACEMENT. That is, quite honestly, a little fucked up.
That said, I am going to try my best to get my placement changed (I decided not to do this initially out of shame of failure, but accepting that this is not who I am is so much more refreshing and calming, I can actually breathe without fear of choking). Failing this I will attempt to get signed off if nobody will help me. I am making myself ill doing this, and am likely to end up on AMU as a patient rather than a student.
That is........if they ever do find me under the floor.......
That is........if they ever do find me under the floor.......
Day 171
I have had a few days off to spend with my family back where I'm from, also visiting some lovely nurses and auxiliaries I worked with when I was a health care assistant (the job that made me want to be a nurse). I forced myself to go into placement last night for my first night shift, and my first meeting my mentor, hoping that I would gain some sense of security knowing that I would have a familiar face from now on.
Try your best, H. Don't give up.
Notable event 1
I spent every second of every minute of all of the 10 hours I was working in a blind panic. I could not see straight for the anxiety. The first 3 hours were the worst. I mentioned I was very nervous, but I don't think those words hit home with anyone.
"You'll enjoy it"
"You'll get used to it"
Maybe I wasn't firm enough? Maybe I should have sobbed? I cried in the car park before I got out of the car, and nearly cried on more than 3 occasions while I was left with patients. I could feel the expression of pain and nervousness on my face, it had to have been obvious? My mentor is alright. I was hoping for someone bubbly and matronly, willing to teach and happy to keep me at her side. But they're busy. They're all so busy, even on the night shift.
Notable event 2
I worked solidly through until 3am without so much as a break. I drank a quick tea while completing forms. I didn't stop. Nothing stopped. Buzzers and beeping machines went off all night long. Sometimes the nurses responded to the monitors when they bleeped, sometimes they didn't. I tried to sense a pattern of what was important but failed. In the end I ignored them all. I was already panicking that my patient is falling asleep. Or is it into some sort of coma? I don't know. I will 'make her comfortable' to see if she responds.
Everyone is ill. Everyone is ill. But they're not ill with the same thing. All the people in my bay have something different wrong with them. I am unfamiliar with bleeds, cardiac, COPD and anything medical. And they all have one of each and more. I read the nurses pack from front to back hoping it would give me the answers but none of it made any sense.
I would rather be at the dentist's
I would liken my experience to that of having a filling. You're in the dentists chair now, you can't move or just get up and leave, you have to endure it until the end. You have to put on your bravest face and do not crumble.
The bit that crushes me is that once it is over, I have to come back tomorrow and do it all over again.
I like fillings because if anything, they are at least 5-6 years apart, or it may even be the last one.
You don't have to anything. But do this.....
I spent a good deal of the night stopping my hands from shaking, and allowing myself time to slow my breathing down. My heart raced all night long. It just felt like drowning.
"Don't worry, you're not expected to do anything, and if you need any help just ask".
And yet here I am taking observations and transferring patients whose mobility I have no clue about. Why all this guesswork? How do you turn around and say 'no'?
"I'm just nipping to the ward next door, are you okay to just stay with the patient for a little while" they will ask as they are halfway out the bay. They make it sound so simple, I'm a 2nd year student, I can't say 'no'. Well, if they're that confident all is well then they wouldn't leave right? Then they're gone 15 minutes, and the patients machine is going haywire, but is it the type of bleep the nurse would ignore again? I don't know. The sats are lower than they should be. Is that mask on right? I don't know anything about this bi-pap machine.....the whole reason the patient is on it is because they can't have too much oxygen. I don't know how to work it......but I'm not allowed to leave. I grab the nearest HCA who says it's all fine and silences the alarm.
I HATE IT HERE. I hate everyone and their blasé attitudes when I am quite literally shaking with nerves the whole time.
I don't know what I am doing, and try to stop myself from choking with fear.
Notable event 3
At around 4.30am I finally get the chance to go through my uni checklist with my mentor. My goals are written down. I had scribbled them briefly before I came in, but I don't care really. I don't want to be here.
1. Familiarise myself with the drugs chart and become more accustomed to the drugs rounds.
(So I can stay in the treatment room as long as possible and take sanctuary away from all the beeping and panic-inducing patients)
2. Book myself onto courses so I can be more confident in clinical practices
(Preferably the all-day ones where I don't need to be on the ward, and also so I can at least have the same knowledge as the nurses I am working with, and not learn through osmosis, because that isn't fair)
My mentor makes me add on about 3 or 4 more objectives, none of which I am interested in, and when she suggested I aim to manage a few patients I clearly said 'no'.
"Maybe one or two then?"
"Perhaps one, but that may be unlikely....."
I have been working up to this moment all week - I'd have preferred to say this privately to my mentor but we haven't been alone to discuss anything once because it's been so busy, so the nurses station will have to do, even if there are people around....
"To be honest with you, I am terrified of this placement. I'm so anxious and it's quite affecting me--"
I was about to go on to suggest maybe I have another mentor for when she is off (since she's part time) as I think I could do with a little extra support, but she cuts me off.
"Really though, everyone finds it difficult. You'll actually really enjoy it in the end, you just need to get used to it, but you'll be fine honestly".
The bog-standard 'one-answer-fits-all'. I close my mouth and nod slowly. I so badly want to believe her words, but I have been fobbed off. I don't try to reiterate my point, how more direct can I be than with the words 'anxious' and 'terrified'? It has taken me a week to try and reach out to someone to tell them how I feel (how can they possibly know if I don't say anything), and it has just slipped by.
Notable event 4
I finish. I leave. I get into my car and it all comes flooding out. In the 15 minutes it take me to drive home, the tears do not stop once.
Big fat tears stream down my face and dribble miserably down onto my chest. I have not cried like this in years.
Try your best, H. Don't give up.
Notable event 1
I spent every second of every minute of all of the 10 hours I was working in a blind panic. I could not see straight for the anxiety. The first 3 hours were the worst. I mentioned I was very nervous, but I don't think those words hit home with anyone.
"You'll enjoy it"
"You'll get used to it"
Maybe I wasn't firm enough? Maybe I should have sobbed? I cried in the car park before I got out of the car, and nearly cried on more than 3 occasions while I was left with patients. I could feel the expression of pain and nervousness on my face, it had to have been obvious? My mentor is alright. I was hoping for someone bubbly and matronly, willing to teach and happy to keep me at her side. But they're busy. They're all so busy, even on the night shift.
Notable event 2
I worked solidly through until 3am without so much as a break. I drank a quick tea while completing forms. I didn't stop. Nothing stopped. Buzzers and beeping machines went off all night long. Sometimes the nurses responded to the monitors when they bleeped, sometimes they didn't. I tried to sense a pattern of what was important but failed. In the end I ignored them all. I was already panicking that my patient is falling asleep. Or is it into some sort of coma? I don't know. I will 'make her comfortable' to see if she responds.
Everyone is ill. Everyone is ill. But they're not ill with the same thing. All the people in my bay have something different wrong with them. I am unfamiliar with bleeds, cardiac, COPD and anything medical. And they all have one of each and more. I read the nurses pack from front to back hoping it would give me the answers but none of it made any sense.
I would rather be at the dentist's
I would liken my experience to that of having a filling. You're in the dentists chair now, you can't move or just get up and leave, you have to endure it until the end. You have to put on your bravest face and do not crumble.
The bit that crushes me is that once it is over, I have to come back tomorrow and do it all over again.
I like fillings because if anything, they are at least 5-6 years apart, or it may even be the last one.
You don't have to anything. But do this.....
I spent a good deal of the night stopping my hands from shaking, and allowing myself time to slow my breathing down. My heart raced all night long. It just felt like drowning.
"Don't worry, you're not expected to do anything, and if you need any help just ask".
And yet here I am taking observations and transferring patients whose mobility I have no clue about. Why all this guesswork? How do you turn around and say 'no'?
"I'm just nipping to the ward next door, are you okay to just stay with the patient for a little while" they will ask as they are halfway out the bay. They make it sound so simple, I'm a 2nd year student, I can't say 'no'. Well, if they're that confident all is well then they wouldn't leave right? Then they're gone 15 minutes, and the patients machine is going haywire, but is it the type of bleep the nurse would ignore again? I don't know. The sats are lower than they should be. Is that mask on right? I don't know anything about this bi-pap machine.....the whole reason the patient is on it is because they can't have too much oxygen. I don't know how to work it......but I'm not allowed to leave. I grab the nearest HCA who says it's all fine and silences the alarm.
I HATE IT HERE. I hate everyone and their blasé attitudes when I am quite literally shaking with nerves the whole time.
I don't know what I am doing, and try to stop myself from choking with fear.
Notable event 3
At around 4.30am I finally get the chance to go through my uni checklist with my mentor. My goals are written down. I had scribbled them briefly before I came in, but I don't care really. I don't want to be here.
1. Familiarise myself with the drugs chart and become more accustomed to the drugs rounds.
(So I can stay in the treatment room as long as possible and take sanctuary away from all the beeping and panic-inducing patients)
2. Book myself onto courses so I can be more confident in clinical practices
(Preferably the all-day ones where I don't need to be on the ward, and also so I can at least have the same knowledge as the nurses I am working with, and not learn through osmosis, because that isn't fair)
My mentor makes me add on about 3 or 4 more objectives, none of which I am interested in, and when she suggested I aim to manage a few patients I clearly said 'no'.
"Maybe one or two then?"
"Perhaps one, but that may be unlikely....."
I have been working up to this moment all week - I'd have preferred to say this privately to my mentor but we haven't been alone to discuss anything once because it's been so busy, so the nurses station will have to do, even if there are people around....
"To be honest with you, I am terrified of this placement. I'm so anxious and it's quite affecting me--"
I was about to go on to suggest maybe I have another mentor for when she is off (since she's part time) as I think I could do with a little extra support, but she cuts me off.
"Really though, everyone finds it difficult. You'll actually really enjoy it in the end, you just need to get used to it, but you'll be fine honestly".
The bog-standard 'one-answer-fits-all'. I close my mouth and nod slowly. I so badly want to believe her words, but I have been fobbed off. I don't try to reiterate my point, how more direct can I be than with the words 'anxious' and 'terrified'? It has taken me a week to try and reach out to someone to tell them how I feel (how can they possibly know if I don't say anything), and it has just slipped by.
Notable event 4
I finish. I leave. I get into my car and it all comes flooding out. In the 15 minutes it take me to drive home, the tears do not stop once.
Big fat tears stream down my face and dribble miserably down onto my chest. I have not cried like this in years.
Day 170
Notable event 1
I woke up, but I didn't open my eyes.
I. Felt. Awful.
I sort of hoped I would lapse into some sort of unconscious state where I couldn't be woken, some sort of unexplainable temporary paralyses that no-one could explain, but genuine enough that it would be a great reason not to have to go in today. I stayed that way, awake but pretending to be asleep for about 2 hours and 45 minutes. I have hardly slept at all anyway.
Notable event 2
I didn't go in. Instead I poured my anxieties and worry into an email to my tutor and other faculty staff explaining that I feel nauseous at the thought of going back to placement. I don't want to talk to anyone. I feel so terribly guilty because to look at me there is no reason why I can't go in. I feel like a big fraud. All the other student nurses protest about how much they hate their placements, yet they seem to manage going in.
Maybe they don't go in. Perhaps only 3% of my cohort ever attend placement at any one time, and the only reason there are so many admin staff at uni is to try and deal with the fallout. That would make me feel much better.
How I feel
I feel like a massive failure. I don't want to be with any of the patients because I don't know them. I have no idea if they're going to 'go off', or if this is how they normally are. I can't make anyone feel better with my killer sense of humour because everyone is preoccupied with their pain. If I can't deal with this then how am I supposed to be a good nurse?
I have been fine up until now. Why am I freaking out? Why this placement? I can't figure it. Have I had enough of nursing? I want to be a nurse, and I don't want to quit or defer, I just loathe everything about this placement. If this was my full time job I would quit today.
For now I will crawl into my hole and sob some more about how I am potentially throwing everything away. Could this placement be the end of it all??
I woke up, but I didn't open my eyes.
I. Felt. Awful.
I sort of hoped I would lapse into some sort of unconscious state where I couldn't be woken, some sort of unexplainable temporary paralyses that no-one could explain, but genuine enough that it would be a great reason not to have to go in today. I stayed that way, awake but pretending to be asleep for about 2 hours and 45 minutes. I have hardly slept at all anyway.
Notable event 2
I didn't go in. Instead I poured my anxieties and worry into an email to my tutor and other faculty staff explaining that I feel nauseous at the thought of going back to placement. I don't want to talk to anyone. I feel so terribly guilty because to look at me there is no reason why I can't go in. I feel like a big fraud. All the other student nurses protest about how much they hate their placements, yet they seem to manage going in.
Maybe they don't go in. Perhaps only 3% of my cohort ever attend placement at any one time, and the only reason there are so many admin staff at uni is to try and deal with the fallout. That would make me feel much better.
How I feel
I feel like a massive failure. I don't want to be with any of the patients because I don't know them. I have no idea if they're going to 'go off', or if this is how they normally are. I can't make anyone feel better with my killer sense of humour because everyone is preoccupied with their pain. If I can't deal with this then how am I supposed to be a good nurse?
I have been fine up until now. Why am I freaking out? Why this placement? I can't figure it. Have I had enough of nursing? I want to be a nurse, and I don't want to quit or defer, I just loathe everything about this placement. If this was my full time job I would quit today.
For now I will crawl into my hole and sob some more about how I am potentially throwing everything away. Could this placement be the end of it all??
Tuesday 24 April 2012
Day 169
Notable event 1:
I am SO TIRED. 6am does not agree with me.
Notable event 2:
I get to the staff room 10 minutes before the shift starts (on the right ward this time may I add). It's full again, and nobody is talking. I say 'Morning!' in a bright and cheery way, and no-one replies.
No-one replies, and no-one speaks to me.
I stand in my leering position feeling humiliated. I bite my tongue. The temptation to just tell everyone exactly what I think is overwhelming. I want to leave and I want to cry. I'm not going to try and be friends with these people, they're clearly not interested and not worth the effort. I so badly want to leave, to run to my GP to get signed off for ANYTHING, but I choose to stay.
The Sister eventually comes in and assigns me to Mandy, who briefly says 'hi' and immediately turns her attention to someone else. I manage a half smile in return, but she's already looked away.
Notable event 3:
I am preparing to give a man a wash at around 10am when 'the' buzzer goes off. I freeze in absolute terror while everyone bolts it to the other end of the ward. I stare wide-eyed at my patient for a second who calmly pats my hand and tells me to follow the running people.
Thank you Mr Man.
I snap out of my paralyses and take off in the direction of the commotion. When I arrive, there are about 6 people rolling a gentleman onto his back. Shit, this is a real one. I pull curtains around the other patients in the bay, and close the window curtains. I move some trolleys out the way, then I stand and watch as the defibrillator is attached, an airway is put in, and the chest compressions start. People are searching for veins, attaching wires and drawing up medication. I keep my eyes on the nurses taking it in turns giving the chest compressions. What strikes me first is the sound of a chest compression - it's so deep and 'poppy', quite difficult to explain, but surprising to hear. (Nothing like the dummies we've trained on).
The defibrillator emits a shock and the man lets out a stifled gasping sound. They didn't tell us that happens at uni! It looks nothing like it does on Grey's Anatomy or Casualty either. It's all so robotic.
The nurse in charge asks me to get the patient's notes. Fuck - don't ask me please. I dash out to the reception and ask the first person who I see, who thankfully has the notes in her hand. I practically throw them at the nurse then quickly return to my position as out of the way as possible, trying to be invisible while trying to take it all in. The CPR continues and the crash team arrive. For the next couple of minutes the Sister glares at me on and off and eventually asks me if perhaps I should "return to the ward to watch over the other patients?"
I look at her in slight disbelief that I am not allowed to experience this, suppress shaking my head and croak a quiet 'yes'. Then I am bewildered at what she actually wants me to do. I can't look after the frigging WARD?!
I want to crawl into a hole.
No sooner than when my heart had sank I hear mutterings from the crash bay, and I'm immediately asked to return so I can learn from the experience. I believe I had Mandy to thank for this, and she began to talk through a few things with me and let me stand behind her by the bed. The CPR continues, and from the mutterings of the medical staff, I gather it's not promising news.
A hush descends over the bay. My mind is racing with thoughts.
Shit, first death. Shit, shit, shit, shit.
Where are his family?
Is it good that I didn't know him beforehand?
Do they expect me to cry? I don't feel like crying.....am I insensitive? Should I squeeze some tears out?
I feel, absolutely, USELESS.
I'm not useless, I closed the curtains.
.....................and I got those notes.
No, seriously, you're useless right now - what are you going to do with notes? Fan him back alive? Dick.
My internal argument continues and I flick my eyes from person to person in silence, trying to take in what they are doing when suddenly Mr Cardiac Arrest sits bolt up right, eyes wide open, 'wind-milling' his arms.
GAH!
I think I just shit a little. Thank goodness I opted for a tunic and trousers rather than a dress today.......
I know that after death the body does some strange things, but clearly this fellow was VERY much alive.
Which is great! Yay! Yay for him. Good things. But I don't feel relieved, I feel like shit. I don't know if I can do this, this shit is SCARE-REE. Do I want to spend the rest of my life on a naff wage frazzling my nerves? How do these brave people go home after something like this and just carry on with their lives? I remember when I used to work in telesales on £18k a year. No-one dies in telesales. Well........my soul did, but does that count?
Yeah I suppose.
Notable event 4:
I just witnessed my first cardiac arrest, and I don't even get a coffee? Do I ask for one? Maybe they're waiting for me to burst into tears in the sluice first.............
Notable event 5:
No seriously, I need a coffee........
Notable event 6:
Truth is I need wine, but I'll just carry on for now. Twenty minutes after Mr Cardiac Arrest miraculously transforms into Mr Can-I-have-a-cup-of-tea, Mandy suggests I go and watch someone have a dodgy toenail removed. I happily oblige. My heart rate is back to normal, and I glove and apron myself up. I breeze through reception when I hear someone bark my name.
I swivel to see the Sister half way out a bed area with the curtains closed, she tells me to help her quickly with a sense of urgency in her voice, then immediately changes her mind and asks me to find someone else.
Pfft! I'm all gloved and aproned and ready to go! I'm going in, I don't care if she thinks I'm shit, I'm not. I tell another nurse we need help now and dash in to the cubicle. The Sister is trying to rouse a man on his chair and mutters quickly that she needs to get him on the bed. I immediately get into position and ask her if she's ready to move after 3. She looks at me briefly in disbelief and asks me if I'm sure.
Cue paragraph of internal dialogue consisting entirely of expletives.
"Yes. 123 move? Okay. 1..2..3..MOVE"
Within seconds we had Mr Chair on the bed, I quickly whipped his legs up and we began attaching him to all things monitor-y.
After this the Sister didn't use glare face on me any more, which makes me happy on the inside. My inner-bitch doesn't like glare face. She complains quite loudly about it and I can't shut her up.
Notable event 7:
It was so busy I missed lunch. I will officially NEVER work on AMU when I am qualified. FACT.
Notable event 8:
I MISSED LUNCH!!!!
I am SO TIRED. 6am does not agree with me.
Notable event 2:
I get to the staff room 10 minutes before the shift starts (on the right ward this time may I add). It's full again, and nobody is talking. I say 'Morning!' in a bright and cheery way, and no-one replies.
No-one replies, and no-one speaks to me.
I stand in my leering position feeling humiliated. I bite my tongue. The temptation to just tell everyone exactly what I think is overwhelming. I want to leave and I want to cry. I'm not going to try and be friends with these people, they're clearly not interested and not worth the effort. I so badly want to leave, to run to my GP to get signed off for ANYTHING, but I choose to stay.
The Sister eventually comes in and assigns me to Mandy, who briefly says 'hi' and immediately turns her attention to someone else. I manage a half smile in return, but she's already looked away.
Notable event 3:
I am preparing to give a man a wash at around 10am when 'the' buzzer goes off. I freeze in absolute terror while everyone bolts it to the other end of the ward. I stare wide-eyed at my patient for a second who calmly pats my hand and tells me to follow the running people.
Thank you Mr Man.
I snap out of my paralyses and take off in the direction of the commotion. When I arrive, there are about 6 people rolling a gentleman onto his back. Shit, this is a real one. I pull curtains around the other patients in the bay, and close the window curtains. I move some trolleys out the way, then I stand and watch as the defibrillator is attached, an airway is put in, and the chest compressions start. People are searching for veins, attaching wires and drawing up medication. I keep my eyes on the nurses taking it in turns giving the chest compressions. What strikes me first is the sound of a chest compression - it's so deep and 'poppy', quite difficult to explain, but surprising to hear. (Nothing like the dummies we've trained on).
The defibrillator emits a shock and the man lets out a stifled gasping sound. They didn't tell us that happens at uni! It looks nothing like it does on Grey's Anatomy or Casualty either. It's all so robotic.
The nurse in charge asks me to get the patient's notes. Fuck - don't ask me please. I dash out to the reception and ask the first person who I see, who thankfully has the notes in her hand. I practically throw them at the nurse then quickly return to my position as out of the way as possible, trying to be invisible while trying to take it all in. The CPR continues and the crash team arrive. For the next couple of minutes the Sister glares at me on and off and eventually asks me if perhaps I should "return to the ward to watch over the other patients?"
I look at her in slight disbelief that I am not allowed to experience this, suppress shaking my head and croak a quiet 'yes'. Then I am bewildered at what she actually wants me to do. I can't look after the frigging WARD?!
I want to crawl into a hole.
No sooner than when my heart had sank I hear mutterings from the crash bay, and I'm immediately asked to return so I can learn from the experience. I believe I had Mandy to thank for this, and she began to talk through a few things with me and let me stand behind her by the bed. The CPR continues, and from the mutterings of the medical staff, I gather it's not promising news.
A hush descends over the bay. My mind is racing with thoughts.
Shit, first death. Shit, shit, shit, shit.
Where are his family?
Is it good that I didn't know him beforehand?
Do they expect me to cry? I don't feel like crying.....am I insensitive? Should I squeeze some tears out?
I feel, absolutely, USELESS.
I'm not useless, I closed the curtains.
.....................and I got those notes.
No, seriously, you're useless right now - what are you going to do with notes? Fan him back alive? Dick.
My internal argument continues and I flick my eyes from person to person in silence, trying to take in what they are doing when suddenly Mr Cardiac Arrest sits bolt up right, eyes wide open, 'wind-milling' his arms.
GAH!
I think I just shit a little. Thank goodness I opted for a tunic and trousers rather than a dress today.......
I know that after death the body does some strange things, but clearly this fellow was VERY much alive.
Which is great! Yay! Yay for him. Good things. But I don't feel relieved, I feel like shit. I don't know if I can do this, this shit is SCARE-REE. Do I want to spend the rest of my life on a naff wage frazzling my nerves? How do these brave people go home after something like this and just carry on with their lives? I remember when I used to work in telesales on £18k a year. No-one dies in telesales. Well........my soul did, but does that count?
Yeah I suppose.
Notable event 4:
I just witnessed my first cardiac arrest, and I don't even get a coffee? Do I ask for one? Maybe they're waiting for me to burst into tears in the sluice first.............
Notable event 5:
No seriously, I need a coffee........
Notable event 6:
Truth is I need wine, but I'll just carry on for now. Twenty minutes after Mr Cardiac Arrest miraculously transforms into Mr Can-I-have-a-cup-of-tea, Mandy suggests I go and watch someone have a dodgy toenail removed. I happily oblige. My heart rate is back to normal, and I glove and apron myself up. I breeze through reception when I hear someone bark my name.
I swivel to see the Sister half way out a bed area with the curtains closed, she tells me to help her quickly with a sense of urgency in her voice, then immediately changes her mind and asks me to find someone else.
Pfft! I'm all gloved and aproned and ready to go! I'm going in, I don't care if she thinks I'm shit, I'm not. I tell another nurse we need help now and dash in to the cubicle. The Sister is trying to rouse a man on his chair and mutters quickly that she needs to get him on the bed. I immediately get into position and ask her if she's ready to move after 3. She looks at me briefly in disbelief and asks me if I'm sure.
Cue paragraph of internal dialogue consisting entirely of expletives.
"Yes. 123 move? Okay. 1..2..3..MOVE"
Within seconds we had Mr Chair on the bed, I quickly whipped his legs up and we began attaching him to all things monitor-y.
After this the Sister didn't use glare face on me any more, which makes me happy on the inside. My inner-bitch doesn't like glare face. She complains quite loudly about it and I can't shut her up.
Notable event 7:
It was so busy I missed lunch. I will officially NEVER work on AMU when I am qualified. FACT.
Notable event 8:
I MISSED LUNCH!!!!
Monday 23 April 2012
Day 168
It's 6.45am and it's raining and dark and cold, and I have just parked my car in the staff parking zone with my little 'student note' on the dash stating I'm awaiting my student permit. I am raring to go on my first day, and I purposefully arrive 15 minutes early. I am a student nurse.
I make my way to my designated ward with a bounce in my step. I didn't want this placement, my previous placements have been on two wards and in theatres. I would like to experience a community placement, but you can argue until the cows come home with the university allocations unit - you get what you get, and you like it. So here I am, bouncing down the corridor, eager to please. I find my ward and am the first person in the staff room. I make myself a coffee and introduce myself to all the nurses and auxiliaries who begin filtering in over the next 15 minutes. What a nice bunch of people and what a good start to my day. I love a bit of friendly banter, I'm so glad I took the initiative to come in early and I feel a rush of relief as I sense this placement may not be so bad after all.
I am happy and it's going to be a good day. At 7:15 a very friendly nurse is going through the fire procedure with me when it suddenly hits me. I am on the wrong fucking ward.
Ten frantic minutes later I arrive on the ward I am officially designated to, which happens to be laid out in the complete opposite fashion to the ward I just made myself at home on. (They seemed genuinely sad to see me go). After walking into the sluice, the day room, the kitchen and the 'unlocked' toilet (sorry, Sir), I eventually tumble into the staff room. Which is very small. And very full.
The eyebrows raise and the chests sigh, and in the space of 4 loud, crashing seconds I have become 'that' student. Dishevelled, out of breath and......late. Balls.
All the chairs are taken, and the room is SO small in fact that I appear to be leering. I am leering on my first day, and I don't have a coffee or a friend to my name. I am assigned a nurse to shadow for the shift since my mentor is off, and I begin my day.
Notable event 1:
I have just met the nurse I am shadowing today called Lara. After handover we pop round our bay to see who is who. Gentleman No.1 is okay in my book. He can talk, he's compos mentis, and he can even wash himself. Bonus. I'm not lazy on any account, however after working as an auxiliary nurse for 3 years I would rather spend my time doing the things that freak me out, like drugs and CPR, because once they don't freak me out then I know I'll be okay. NOBODY wants a freaking out nurse.
The next patient, freaks me out. 3 minutes into my day, we're asked to quickly draw the curtains around Gentleman No.2. There are 3 nurses in the bay, all discussing the resuscitation status of said Gentleman (he's not for resus). They are saying they can't wake him, and they are saying they might just leave him.
'Excuse me? What's that now?'
The first thing that rushes to my mind is that it's all wrong. I can't experience my first death 3 minutes into my first shift, I'm not in the right frame of mind! Surely I need to see a decline in a patient first, maybe know their name and things. Do a few chest compressions, you know? Not just casually trot into a bay and watch a dude take his last few breaths. It all seemed so rude.
Luckily Gentleman No.2 reacts very quickly to something one of the nurses injected into his canula, and he promptly woke up and demanded his breakfast.
Notable event 2:
The shadow nurse asks me to dispense 40mg of medication into a pot using tablets with 5mg strength. I pop the blister pack 8 times into the pot. She looks into the pot, then at me expectantly, which turns to frustration and then some sort of acceptance. I look in the pot confused. What? I discover there are seven tablets, not eight. This woman thinks I am a jackass. Frig. I add an eighth and she scurries off. I then discover after she has left that one of the tablets didn't pop out of the blister pack when I initially added them. I wanted to run after her and show her that I wasn't a complete imbecile and that my basic mathematics skills exceed that of a 9 year old. But it was too late. In her mind I was shelved with the other dimwit student nurses who would be better off suited to looking after plants rather than humans.
Notable event 3:
Gentleman No.8 wanted something 'strong' to help him with his bowels. Lara told me to offer him a soluble laxative. He declined and asked for a shower attachment, some tubing, hot and cold water and a 'receptacle' of some nature. Deep down I knew he wasn't joking, and not wanting to come across as judgemental, politely informed him that due to infection control procedures and NHS cost-cutting we didn't supply use-once-only shower heads. He appeared to take it well. Lara walked in on us when he was describing in great detail the finer points of his DIY shit-retrieval methods, and swiftly removed me from the situation. Apparently I was not to engage in such discussion in case other patients overheard, but the gentleman was so animated and innocent with his descriptions, that I couldn't help but be captivated. I told Lara I thought he deserved a Blue Peter badge. She didn't laugh.
Notable event 4:
I escorted a gentleman from our bay to his CT scan. We had a nice chat as the porters transported him from the ward to the scanning suite. This gentleman (we'll call him Bob) needs oxygen all the time. When transporting patients like this they require a mobile oxygen cylinder for obvious reasons (when they can't be connected to a static O2 supply, usually mounted above hospital beds). In the CT suite his O2 cylinder was taken away by the porters and Bob was attached to the static O2 on the wall.
I stood in the computer room watching him through the window while he was being scanned. There were 4 members of staff in this room, not one of them spoke to me, and they all chatted away to each other about the annual leave someone didn't get, and how disgusting it was, and that so-and-so was still off sick, and how disgusting it was, and how they went on a staff night out, and how disgusting it was. Etcetera. Do you know how it feels to be completely ignored in a room full of people? It's as if you don't exist, and sadly I am used to it. As a student nurse I am ignored by the following people: house officers, senior house officers, consultants, physiotherapists, occupational therapists, surgeons, anyone who doesn't wear a uniform, ANYone who has ANYthing to do with radiology equipment, ward managers, modern matrons, ward sisters (now and then) and cleaners. I am a very confident and sociable person, I smile at people who pass me.I ask questions, I try to engage in conversation. But to these people, I am worthless.
It's exhausting.
But I digress. Once the scan was complete one of the radiology staff, a woman possibly in her late 30's, who had completely ignored me until now, disconnected Bob from his O2 and without making eye contact demanded I open the door for her. I asked her if there was a portable O2 cylinder nearby, and she said there was oxygen in the waiting bay out in the corridor. Fair enough. Bitch. The whole process of getting Bob into the bay was agonisingly slow, and she didn't seem to care that he clearly couldn't breath very well. Sure enough there was a pump on the wall and I waited for her to attach it as it was at her end of the bed. She just stood there for a while looking questioningly at the pump.I stared at her in disbelief. Bob was clearly getting more and more agitated (as was I) then she casually asked me in her uninterested, monotone voice where the connector was. I said I didn't know what a connector was and queried why she couldn't just shove the damn tube on the pump. 'It needs a connector'. Bob's nose and mouth were beginning to show a grey tinge and he was gasping more and more for breath.
Naturally I was very frustrated. The basics of the problem were as so: the woman wanted to connect Bob's white oxygen mask tube to a green tube, then the green tube to the pump. But there was no 'connector' to connect the green tube to the pump. What confused me was that the white oxygen mask tube could just bypass this green tube bullshit and connect straight to the pump. I am usually very calm and collected, but this woman didn't seem to understand the urgency of the gasping grey man and his need for the oxygen and preceded to ask me to 'look over there for a connector'. For the first time in my life I heard my own 'professional stern voice'.
'Listen to me. I don't know what a connector is or looks like, so there is no point in asking me. This gentleman needs to be connected to oxygen now'.
She scuttled off into the the CT suite to look for one of these connectors. I was at the end of my tether and just as I was fitting the white tube to the pump she appeared with this stupid piece of plastic announcing to her colleague that it was the only one in the whole CT suite. I refrained from telling her where I thought she could shove that plastic.
Notable event 5:
I return to my car after my series of unfortunate and events and encounters to find a parking ticket slapped on the windscreen.
WELCOME TO PLACEMENT.
I make my way to my designated ward with a bounce in my step. I didn't want this placement, my previous placements have been on two wards and in theatres. I would like to experience a community placement, but you can argue until the cows come home with the university allocations unit - you get what you get, and you like it. So here I am, bouncing down the corridor, eager to please. I find my ward and am the first person in the staff room. I make myself a coffee and introduce myself to all the nurses and auxiliaries who begin filtering in over the next 15 minutes. What a nice bunch of people and what a good start to my day. I love a bit of friendly banter, I'm so glad I took the initiative to come in early and I feel a rush of relief as I sense this placement may not be so bad after all.
I am happy and it's going to be a good day. At 7:15 a very friendly nurse is going through the fire procedure with me when it suddenly hits me. I am on the wrong fucking ward.
Ten frantic minutes later I arrive on the ward I am officially designated to, which happens to be laid out in the complete opposite fashion to the ward I just made myself at home on. (They seemed genuinely sad to see me go). After walking into the sluice, the day room, the kitchen and the 'unlocked' toilet (sorry, Sir), I eventually tumble into the staff room. Which is very small. And very full.
The eyebrows raise and the chests sigh, and in the space of 4 loud, crashing seconds I have become 'that' student. Dishevelled, out of breath and......late. Balls.
All the chairs are taken, and the room is SO small in fact that I appear to be leering. I am leering on my first day, and I don't have a coffee or a friend to my name. I am assigned a nurse to shadow for the shift since my mentor is off, and I begin my day.
Notable event 1:
I have just met the nurse I am shadowing today called Lara. After handover we pop round our bay to see who is who. Gentleman No.1 is okay in my book. He can talk, he's compos mentis, and he can even wash himself. Bonus. I'm not lazy on any account, however after working as an auxiliary nurse for 3 years I would rather spend my time doing the things that freak me out, like drugs and CPR, because once they don't freak me out then I know I'll be okay. NOBODY wants a freaking out nurse.
The next patient, freaks me out. 3 minutes into my day, we're asked to quickly draw the curtains around Gentleman No.2. There are 3 nurses in the bay, all discussing the resuscitation status of said Gentleman (he's not for resus). They are saying they can't wake him, and they are saying they might just leave him.
'Excuse me? What's that now?'
The first thing that rushes to my mind is that it's all wrong. I can't experience my first death 3 minutes into my first shift, I'm not in the right frame of mind! Surely I need to see a decline in a patient first, maybe know their name and things. Do a few chest compressions, you know? Not just casually trot into a bay and watch a dude take his last few breaths. It all seemed so rude.
Luckily Gentleman No.2 reacts very quickly to something one of the nurses injected into his canula, and he promptly woke up and demanded his breakfast.
Notable event 2:
The shadow nurse asks me to dispense 40mg of medication into a pot using tablets with 5mg strength. I pop the blister pack 8 times into the pot. She looks into the pot, then at me expectantly, which turns to frustration and then some sort of acceptance. I look in the pot confused. What? I discover there are seven tablets, not eight. This woman thinks I am a jackass. Frig. I add an eighth and she scurries off. I then discover after she has left that one of the tablets didn't pop out of the blister pack when I initially added them. I wanted to run after her and show her that I wasn't a complete imbecile and that my basic mathematics skills exceed that of a 9 year old. But it was too late. In her mind I was shelved with the other dimwit student nurses who would be better off suited to looking after plants rather than humans.
Notable event 3:
Gentleman No.8 wanted something 'strong' to help him with his bowels. Lara told me to offer him a soluble laxative. He declined and asked for a shower attachment, some tubing, hot and cold water and a 'receptacle' of some nature. Deep down I knew he wasn't joking, and not wanting to come across as judgemental, politely informed him that due to infection control procedures and NHS cost-cutting we didn't supply use-once-only shower heads. He appeared to take it well. Lara walked in on us when he was describing in great detail the finer points of his DIY shit-retrieval methods, and swiftly removed me from the situation. Apparently I was not to engage in such discussion in case other patients overheard, but the gentleman was so animated and innocent with his descriptions, that I couldn't help but be captivated. I told Lara I thought he deserved a Blue Peter badge. She didn't laugh.
Notable event 4:
I escorted a gentleman from our bay to his CT scan. We had a nice chat as the porters transported him from the ward to the scanning suite. This gentleman (we'll call him Bob) needs oxygen all the time. When transporting patients like this they require a mobile oxygen cylinder for obvious reasons (when they can't be connected to a static O2 supply, usually mounted above hospital beds). In the CT suite his O2 cylinder was taken away by the porters and Bob was attached to the static O2 on the wall.
I stood in the computer room watching him through the window while he was being scanned. There were 4 members of staff in this room, not one of them spoke to me, and they all chatted away to each other about the annual leave someone didn't get, and how disgusting it was, and that so-and-so was still off sick, and how disgusting it was, and how they went on a staff night out, and how disgusting it was. Etcetera. Do you know how it feels to be completely ignored in a room full of people? It's as if you don't exist, and sadly I am used to it. As a student nurse I am ignored by the following people: house officers, senior house officers, consultants, physiotherapists, occupational therapists, surgeons, anyone who doesn't wear a uniform, ANYone who has ANYthing to do with radiology equipment, ward managers, modern matrons, ward sisters (now and then) and cleaners. I am a very confident and sociable person, I smile at people who pass me.I ask questions, I try to engage in conversation. But to these people, I am worthless.
It's exhausting.
But I digress. Once the scan was complete one of the radiology staff, a woman possibly in her late 30's, who had completely ignored me until now, disconnected Bob from his O2 and without making eye contact demanded I open the door for her. I asked her if there was a portable O2 cylinder nearby, and she said there was oxygen in the waiting bay out in the corridor. Fair enough. Bitch. The whole process of getting Bob into the bay was agonisingly slow, and she didn't seem to care that he clearly couldn't breath very well. Sure enough there was a pump on the wall and I waited for her to attach it as it was at her end of the bed. She just stood there for a while looking questioningly at the pump.I stared at her in disbelief. Bob was clearly getting more and more agitated (as was I) then she casually asked me in her uninterested, monotone voice where the connector was. I said I didn't know what a connector was and queried why she couldn't just shove the damn tube on the pump. 'It needs a connector'. Bob's nose and mouth were beginning to show a grey tinge and he was gasping more and more for breath.
Naturally I was very frustrated. The basics of the problem were as so: the woman wanted to connect Bob's white oxygen mask tube to a green tube, then the green tube to the pump. But there was no 'connector' to connect the green tube to the pump. What confused me was that the white oxygen mask tube could just bypass this green tube bullshit and connect straight to the pump. I am usually very calm and collected, but this woman didn't seem to understand the urgency of the gasping grey man and his need for the oxygen and preceded to ask me to 'look over there for a connector'. For the first time in my life I heard my own 'professional stern voice'.
'Listen to me. I don't know what a connector is or looks like, so there is no point in asking me. This gentleman needs to be connected to oxygen now'.
She scuttled off into the the CT suite to look for one of these connectors. I was at the end of my tether and just as I was fitting the white tube to the pump she appeared with this stupid piece of plastic announcing to her colleague that it was the only one in the whole CT suite. I refrained from telling her where I thought she could shove that plastic.
Notable event 5:
I return to my car after my series of unfortunate and events and encounters to find a parking ticket slapped on the windscreen.
WELCOME TO PLACEMENT.
I know fuck all.....
It is the first day of my fourth placement in my second year of nurse training. Too many numbers? Imagine how I feel - I have to give people DRUGS, and I need to suss out how to do that without accidentally killing them. Does it comfort you that I got the lowest possible 'C' grade in GCSE maths? Because it doesn't comfort me. At all. (Don't tell the patients).
I am on AMU (acute medical unit to you and me - which is basically a fancy way to define the halfway house between A&E and the ward you will eventually be on). These patients may also come from home after being referred by their GP's for investigations because 'that really shouldn't be there' or 'you see what you just vomited? That is REALLY the wrong colour'. You get the gist.
I have earned alright/good grades in all my essays and exams, and my placement reports thus far have been great. BUT I AM A FRAUD! I feel like I've slapped on a nurses uniform and snuck onto this ward, fiendishly eyeing up the cardiac monitors and getting all twitchy and excited when people say things like 'blood' or 'biopsy'.
It's all very cool and untouchable, and I'm in this uniform swanning around as if I mean business until a voice says "Okay, you can be in charge of Bay 4 today".
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