An Abdication of Responsibility

I told about sixteen lies in a row this week, mostly so that I could stay home today in my pajamas and get some sleep (which didn't end up happening, but at least I didn't have to do the "get dressed, show up" part of the "get up, get dressed, show up" equation). That's, like, two-thirds of a day off.

You know the drill: I haven't been sleeping well. Going on forty years now. I was so exhausted yesterday and yet I made it through a full day of nonsense on three hours of sleep. Without killing anyone, I mean.

Yesterday was an insomniac pessimist's nightmare: I had to take care of a baby mannequin all day, part of a day-long pediatric simulation during which I had to do such important tasks like bathe a baby mannequin and mime putting an acetaminophen suppository in a baby mannequin's rectum. The whole thing was a cartoon that was made worse by the set up, one instructor for eight students and the instructor was playing the role of parent, doctor, pharmacist, respiratory therapist, charge nurse, everything, so that each time you needed something from one of these people, you'd have to stand in line behind three or four other students who also needed an answer to their question.

And to make it worse, the instructor has, let's say, issues. She. . . talks. . . like. . . this. . . and . . . she. . . has. . . mobility. . . issues . . . so. . . by. . . the. . . time. . . she. . . answered. . . another. . . . student's. . . question. . . and. . . limped. . . her. . . way. . . across . . . the . . . room. . . you'd . . . have forgotten your goddamned question. And she wasn't content to just provide you with an answer to your specific question, she would waste so much time going over shit that you already demonstrably knew. Yes, I know where a suppository goes. Yes, I know you have to take off the baby's diaper to administer one.

And, on top of all that, she had to personally witness every single patient interaction with the exception of assessments. So when I had to administer the suppository, I had to go find her, tell her what I was doing, lead her over to the medication area, show her my drug calculations, show her how to dispense the medication, lead her over to my patient, explain to her the safety checks I would do to give the medication, answer her questions about side effects and contraindications, listen to her explain how to take the diaper off the baby, talk her through the administration, and get her to initial the form showing that I had done it, all the while students in line behind her, tapping their feet impatiently, waiting to have her come and watch them do things like read a storybook to a mannequin so that she could initial off the part where you "provide comfort and distraction" to your fake pediatric patient.

By the end of the day, my mannequin had had it and was leaking from its IV site and had started to make some weird clicking and hissing noises so it had to be shut off. Since I was in an isolation room, not on an open unit, I just took out my computer and started in on the write up that is due tomorrow. Then we spent TWO hours giving report on the patient, which was...ridiculous. Some people think that giving report means that you give every little detail, which: no. Give the basics, the stuff that stands out of the ordinary or needs doing. That's it. I don't need a fifteen minute report with a Virginia Woolf-style stream-of-consciousness narrative of your day. Because when you do that, You. Are. Wasting. My. Time. And yours.

I drove home in a daze and tried to get some sleep. And failed. When Dave came home, we went out to pick up some cheap Chinese from our usual place. We should have turned around and walked out when we saw that the usual cook was not behind the counter though.

We ordered our beloved broccoli dish and a mixed vegetables with tofu dish and got...something not good. The broccoli was not the fresh, crunchy, steamed broccoli we love but instead was overcooked and mushy. The sauce was not our beloved spicy, garlicky, vinegary delight, but was oily, thickened soy sauce. And don't get me started on the tofu dish. But the new cook was very happy and sent along two free eggrolls. I took one bite and spit it out into my napkin. It was completely uncooked in the middle and I had gotten a mouthful of sticky, cold dough mixed with unseasoned shredded cabbage.

We ate what we could and then I had a banana with some sunflower seed butter and later, a bowl of cereal. And tried to sleep.

So some good points from the week:

This is my morning drive to the hospital, just before 6:00 a.m.

I purposefully choose this route because it takes me through the center of downtown and I liked neon lights.

We had dinner with Paul (Judi is out of town) this week, too, at a terrific Italian restaurant. We ate very well and got to socialize and see Crunch, too.

It snowed this week, too, the second time in two weeks. Nothing stuck, of course, and by the afternoon it was blue skies and sunny, but it did snow.

I emailed my old pathophys instructor and got back a wonderful, encouraging, enthusiastic reply that brought tears to my eyes as I read it before class on Wednesday. (It made me realize how fucking demoralizing it has been to have the instructors in my program treat me and all the other students like inept, know-nothing nuisances.)

This is my morning drive to the distant campus which I have come to despise:

(It's lighter in the morning now, which suits me fine.) And the beautiful news is that I only have to make that drive once more this term. My final exam for the class is on Wednesday.

And there is this:

Judi is out of town because she is on a road trip to bring home a new puppy.

His name is Buzz.