The Promotion

So, super grumpy cat is gone and we're all mad at him and miss him very much.  What the hell.  Of course, management couldn't give two craps about it.  As he's leaving for good, he smiles a sarcastic grin and says "Hey congratulations on the promotion, Allie", which really means "Hi, here's 10lbs of shit in a 5lb bag."  He told management for months that he was leaving and that they need to start training other people for the charge spot because he knew I had not an iota of interest in it.  Lo and behold, he's gone, the other charge nurse is out on bereavement leave (which was followed by one obligatory phone call from the nursing office asking for help, because of course the manager is conveniently out of town), and they left me and charge.

One nurse down on Christmas day?  What could possibly go wrong??  In all respect, we were actually doing really well, then at 11pm a Christmas miracle happened and Jesus Nurse came in.  I love working with him.  He looks like Jesus and is as calm as a high school kid who just smoked a bunch of pot.  But he works hard and actually knows what the hell he's doing clinically.  I turn over my two flu-like sx folks to him, help a couple of other nurses and head upstairs to shift huddle.  Frantic ICU Nurse from the last chapter is there, chit chatting with the supervisor, I sit down, she gives some half-assed unit report and scurries off with the usual "Oh we're just soooooo busy up there, I have to get back".  Whatever, psycho.  So I stay, put in my two cents about our admission holds, and then out of boredom listen to the floor nurses unit reports:

When I get off the elevator I stop to pee in the clean hallway bathroom instead of going back to the ED bathroom, fix my mini-santa hat and start walking back.  Before I can even reach the door I hear a rabid banshee on the radio: "I NEED A WHEELCHAIR OR A STRETCHER TO THE WAITING ROOM NOW!"  Knowing that the owner of that voice loses her shit no matter what, I casually stop in fast-track, grab some gloves and head for the waiting room.  The banshee voice again: "I NEED A WHEELCHAIR STAT!!!!!!!!!!!" this time it's even more shrill and high pitched.  Now I'm getting pissed so I push the door open.  Waiting room is perfectly still and empty, except for a 60-something year old who blacked out while SITTING IN A CHAIR, his life partner next to him, and the 60-something year old rabid banshee triage nurse.  Having triaged the man just an hour or so ago while she was at lunch, I calmly look at him and ask what happened while she is doing some sort of ritual war dance trying to get the man to levitate to the wheelchair that the tech brought out.  He is relaxed, says he's not sure, he just went out.  Again, while sitting in chair.  She was screaming as if he passed out and fell 20' from the scaffolding, caught on fire on the way down, and landed in a puddle of gasoline surrounded by dynamite.  His life partner isn't sure whether to scream at the banshee to shut up or to cry because his spouse is sick.  The guy just has the flu, everyone, calm the fuck down.

Once he is sitting comfortably in the magical chair with wheels under it we go back to an exam room, with Rabid Banshee trailing behind us, screeching about how he should be in the trauma room.  Nope, not happening, not my only open trauma room, for a guy who's conscious & alert, just weak.  They head to room 7 while I grab an IV set up and fluids.  As I'm powering up the lab cart and taking out tubes, I hear Rabid Banshee screeching in the room, "He's going down again!"  Well, no, no ma'am he's not.  He's sitting in a chair, I'm sure he's very weak and feels like crap, but he's not going down.  I poke my head in the door and sternly but calmly grit through my teeth "Let's get him flat on the stretcher and make him comfortable."  Really??? Do I have to explain the basics of physics and orthostatic hypotension to you???  The primary nurse for the room comes over and asks me what I need, at this point I'm holding the lab tubes & IV fluids in my hands, so I look at her and whisper "I need Rabid Banshee the fuck out of that room".  Primary nurse laughs and makes me laugh too.

Why did I get stuck mitigating crazy?  For an extra $1.50 per hour?  Really??  Not worth the headache and the GI ulcer.

Interestingly enough, about four hours later, same guy has a witnessed syncope on the stretcher with a >20 second run of ASYSTOLE.

Asshole-pucker factor of 20.  Thankfully Rabid Banshee AND Upset Life Partner have gone home for the night.

Can't wait to do it all over again in 2 days.