I just need a fucking PRN.
Excuse the poor writing. For I am frustrated.
Just when I thought I figured out how to beat the system that seems to thrive on bringing me down, it strikes. There's no avoiding it. This inefficiency. The bureaucracy. It's like a den of wolves. No matter how you try to arm yourself, you will get mauled.
And it'll just get worse.
I mean, it was just a skin infection case right? Easy. But of course he had to have the resistant strand. Of course, we needed Vanco. And when I saw him taken out of the Xray room, the Vanco infusing, and he is scratching his head desperately, turning red from the medication, of course I knew how impossible it would be to get a nurse to give me a stupid PRN Benadryl.
Don't you know how to treat this? Do you know anything? The resident's face read this. Of course I know. I know a lot of things. I know to store butterfly needles, bandaids, gauze, tape, IV needles, down to fucking alcohol pads in my pockets. I know to store every possible form in my personal folder so I do not have to run 10 flights of stairs to get a lab slip. I know to write the orders early, as soon as the nurse asks for them to cajole them. Even if it's for something tomorrow. I know to smile, smile, smile, even when I feel like I have to be on floors 7 and 11 at the same time, when I can't think straight, when there is 100 things to do and I don't know where to start, and I find myself on floor 11 wandering around when I realize my patient is actually on 16. I know. I know.
But I don't know how to find help when I really need it. When I am stranded, in the middle of the ER, with everyone flying around me, intubated patients rushed in and out, and random patients yelling at me for their pain. Because I have this white coat. It feels like a disguise sometimes. For someone who can do something. Clearly, all I'm capable of doing is packing order forms and supply room equipment. There are only rocks and hard places. And I don't know who to go to. And I just want to cry.
Just when I thought I figured out how to beat the system that seems to thrive on bringing me down, it strikes. There's no avoiding it. This inefficiency. The bureaucracy. It's like a den of wolves. No matter how you try to arm yourself, you will get mauled.
And it'll just get worse.
I mean, it was just a skin infection case right? Easy. But of course he had to have the resistant strand. Of course, we needed Vanco. And when I saw him taken out of the Xray room, the Vanco infusing, and he is scratching his head desperately, turning red from the medication, of course I knew how impossible it would be to get a nurse to give me a stupid PRN Benadryl.
Don't you know how to treat this? Do you know anything? The resident's face read this. Of course I know. I know a lot of things. I know to store butterfly needles, bandaids, gauze, tape, IV needles, down to fucking alcohol pads in my pockets. I know to store every possible form in my personal folder so I do not have to run 10 flights of stairs to get a lab slip. I know to write the orders early, as soon as the nurse asks for them to cajole them. Even if it's for something tomorrow. I know to smile, smile, smile, even when I feel like I have to be on floors 7 and 11 at the same time, when I can't think straight, when there is 100 things to do and I don't know where to start, and I find myself on floor 11 wandering around when I realize my patient is actually on 16. I know. I know.
But I don't know how to find help when I really need it. When I am stranded, in the middle of the ER, with everyone flying around me, intubated patients rushed in and out, and random patients yelling at me for their pain. Because I have this white coat. It feels like a disguise sometimes. For someone who can do something. Clearly, all I'm capable of doing is packing order forms and supply room equipment. There are only rocks and hard places. And I don't know who to go to. And I just want to cry.
posted by Maureen @ 7:39 PM
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