Semester Two, Energy Vampires, Sphynx

Semester two of four begins tomorrow.  I honestly can’t wait.  With life at full speed last semester, I’ve been a little mystified as to what to do with all my free time.  Playing social butterfly a lot, cooking a ton, and otherwise filling my days with the carefree, laid-back kinda stuff I did when I was unemployed has been great.  But it’s time to move forward.

My three-in-a-row shifts are the only real commitments I have.  That’s not necessarily a bad thing, but I’m ready to get back into the swing of things.  Anything that brings me closer to NCLEX will make me happy right now.

I know right.  Who’s a nerd?

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Pardon the rant that I’m about to go on.  Actually, don’t pardon it.  Read it and learn.

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The ED has been filling the hospital with very sick kiddos lately.  With acuity through the roof, the shifts tend to speed by.  Some nights I blink and it’s midnight.  However, some of the useless slugs I work next to really need to fall into a puddle of something strong and be gone.

I’m not talking about RNs.  Not even residents.  I’m talking about useless I’m-going-to-call-off-again clerks.

Here’s the deal with my job;  I’m really good at it.  Call me conceited but my work speaks for itself.  Within thirty-ish minutes in the ED, I know most of the kiddos and their cases.  I know which OSH transfers are incoming and where they are going.  The highest acuity kids are on my close radar, their consulting services tucked in the back of my brain because they WILL call in and look for random resident X.  I regularly round to check our fast-moving equipment (pumps, IV poles, etc.) and if you need the tiniest foley, a wacky surgical instrument, or a random g-tube, I can get it here in minutes because I know the Central and Sterile folks well.  I bring them cookies.

Cookies can get you almost anything in a hospital in under five minutes.

Got a Medical Records issue?  They’re my girls.  The omnipresent Lab vs. ED battle usually subsides when I call down to check on something because I know them face to face.  And I say please and thank you.  CT/XR/Resp, whenever we have extra potluck food, I call them first.  And housekeeping?  Baby, those folks are my good friends.  Your “vomick” will get dealt with in a timely manner when *I* ask for their help.

To repeat, I’m good at what I do.  I Get. Shit. Done.

And then there are some of the other folks that are called clerks.  They complain about the schedule non-stop.  They call in when the day they requested off doesn’t go through.  How they think they’ll get away with it amazes me.  When someone asks them for a 6FR cath kit, they draw a blank and bark the number for central at them.  Questions like “Who was the crouper in bed six that went up?” get yelled at the charge for an answer, like there was an angry echo on the unit. 

Their uselessness does not amuse me.  I’d rather work a 12h shift alone then alongside an energy vampire.  Which, if you think about it, when they call in, I do anyway.

Some people should just call in sick permanently.

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End rant.

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I want a kitten.  A Sphynx kitten.  A companion for Oberon, my Sphynx.  I *think* I’m in the market at the moment.  I just haven’t officially told myself that indeed, I’m looking for another cat.

So for just a little bit of gleeful squee, I’ll leave you with Obi’s baby picture and his picture today.

And please.  Do not mock my hairless puss.