A Week Ago...

I could tell you what day it was, what I had for dinner the night before, and what my husband said five minutes before. Today, I couldn't do any of that. See the guy on the left? That's what I feel like. Tired. I wake up not remembering that I went to sleep, feeling like it's time for bed. In my sleep, I dream med surg. Hypokalemia, hyperkalemia, aldosterone, ADH, Lasix and the list goes on and on and on. Tuesday was my first day of clinical. I'll tell you about it in a minute. But Tuesday night was hell night. Hell night is the night you write your first care plan. It takes you hours. HOURS. And then when (if) you finally go to bed, you have to wake up at 5:30 am to start clinical all over again. I can't explain to you how hard it is to write a careplan when you've never written one before. But here's a web example: careplan
Apparently all schools do not require this level of depth, but mine does. Our careplans also have background info about the patient, including every single drug he or she is on - including the class (type) the drug belongs to, the signs and syptoms of use, the adverse effects expected, and the rationale for why he or she is on the drug. It would also include all the lab info about the patient (what tests he/she had done, why, and what the results were). And it's even more complicated because at this point in our education we usually have to look up every single abbreviation, and we don't know anything about drugs. Makes for a long night.

Anyway, I survived it, and even lived to tell about it. I have to do it all over again this week, and every week for the next ten months, but I hear it gets a lot easier as you start to learn / memorize everything.

As far as clinical goes: I hated it. I am not a med surg kind of girl. Too many men. Point me to a cervix owner. Washing "her" is like washing myself. But washing "him" is foreign. The guys in our program needed additional info about the whole "never wash from back to front" thing, and now I understand their pain. My first patient was in for a lobectomy. That is, he had part of his lung removed. 1 pack per day x 34 years = LUNG CANCER. Please stop smoking people. He was very combative. He had just been treated for tongue cancer. He was less than 50 years old, and both of his parents had died of cancer. He had no insurance and no medicare. All of that equals COMBATIVE. But I understand. What paralyzed me though, was opening the chart and seeing "Hep C positive." I was trying to maintain my composure, but all I was thinking was "God, get me the hell away from here." Everywhere I looked there were only small and medium gloves. I need a large or extra large. Everything moved in slow motion from that moment forward. If you ever get stuck with an HIV needle, there are anaphylactic drugs. If you come across Hep C, you're screwed. So here I am trying not to be an ass, remembering that Hep C is not airborne. Intellectually, I am going through the precautions in my head and being very careful physically (with gloves). But emotionally, internally I am f-r-e-a-k-i-n-g- o-u-t. So med surg just isn't my thing. Honestly, I rather eat a pot of beans, and anybody who knows me knows just how much I hate beans.

But I digress (slightly). Right now, for most of the night, and all of tomorrow too, I am going to study. My first med surg exam is Monday. Of course I am freaking out.

I rarely answer my phone anymore, and I don't return the calls I ignore. But I *am* homesick. Homesick for fat people. People who eat meat. People with nappy hair. People who know me. But if I don't call you, or you call me and I don't answer, don't take it personally. Right now you would have to have given birth to me for me to answer the phone...or have been born to the same woman who gave birth to me. Otherwise, I'll call you Tuesday. Or Wednesday. Maybe.