Went from taking care of 2 patients to only one. He was restless at first but has eventually fallen asleep. He had a severe stroke. I would like to say its effected his speech to the point that I cant understand him however Im certain that if he hadnt had a stroke I still wouldnt have understood him.
He seems to have an accent of eastern european origins. From what the nurse told me he was particularly dirty when he first came in. She described his nails as being like 'knives'. Also apparently the night before he pulled out his catheter which sprayed everywhere. Glad I missed out on that one.
My brother has come to visit and has seemed to take a liking to this gentleman. Having heard his last name he asked "Oh, are you from the Czech republic?". The patient scoffed "NO! Why did you think that?" in a disgusted manner. My brother sputtered "Theres a midfielder on the national team with the same name, I just thought..."
It would seem the old boy was an architect at one point that had designed one of our fair cities universities. Ironically it was a womans university. Whats ironic about that little tidbit is the fact that he quite sexist. Mostly hes a helpless filthy (as in laden in dirt) man who likes to lash out at woman who laugh at him only furthering his rage. Surprisingly I have escaped this. Not sure if its my youth that scares him or the fact that im simply pleasant to him. Regardless, hes not tugging on his catheter so im pretty content with that alone.
Later that evening after he fell asleep i overheard one nurse talk to another about how she had been sitting at her desk late at night when she saw someone walk past the desk from the corner of her eye. She quickly turned her head but noone was there. Not two seconds later did another nurse rush over to the desk to report that a patient in a room not far away had died. Perhaps shes been dipping into the dilaudid?
Saturday, January 31, 2009
Holy Holy
My patient today was transferred from the infirmary to VG. I arrived slightly late (about 20 mins, terrible, I know) so the guy previous to me had already left. Much to my delight I had a Nun. Its always nice to get someone completely out of the ordinary. Mostly it allows one to compile a list of questions that will help pass the 12 hours (or 11 hours and 55 minutes in this case). More often than not these questions go relatively unheard but the activity of compiling + the task of asking generally is quite amusing and worthwhile.
Like the majority of older people she was suffering from some sort of dementia. She really was a small bundle of joy. Guessing her age, one would have to say in her mid to late 80s and smelt of lilacs. She was unbelievably elated when I told her we were going to have a sleep over. It makes you wonder if she had sleep overs back in the day as I really didnt think they were common for our grandparents generation. Most likely she came from a large east coast catholic family (send one to the army, one to the church and one to civil services or something like that).
Its always mindboggling that these people that basically lived subsistence lives would bang out 9 or 10 kids. Its always suggested that it allows for parents to have help in the fields etc but to be frank I suspect is a result of a) a lack of heat, b) a lack of condoms and c) a lack of tv.
I really imagine trying it on in a dark coal shed like house packed with 7 kids, pregnant with another. Then again I have been spoiled with the benefits of modern technology.
We passed a great deal of time in silence, holding hands, with her whispering to me "Godbless".
Definitely one of those shifts that makes you contemplate going back to church but the fact of the matter is you can live your life without the religious structure doing the same amount of good. Abide by the golden rule (or whatever its called elsewhere) and youre generally ok. It does also make you wonder how the church provides for their own flock if im coming in to do something their own people could do. Was this a particularly short term situation? Do they even have retirement homes for clergy? Do Clergy even retire?
Like the majority of older people she was suffering from some sort of dementia. She really was a small bundle of joy. Guessing her age, one would have to say in her mid to late 80s and smelt of lilacs. She was unbelievably elated when I told her we were going to have a sleep over. It makes you wonder if she had sleep overs back in the day as I really didnt think they were common for our grandparents generation. Most likely she came from a large east coast catholic family (send one to the army, one to the church and one to civil services or something like that).
Its always mindboggling that these people that basically lived subsistence lives would bang out 9 or 10 kids. Its always suggested that it allows for parents to have help in the fields etc but to be frank I suspect is a result of a) a lack of heat, b) a lack of condoms and c) a lack of tv.
I really imagine trying it on in a dark coal shed like house packed with 7 kids, pregnant with another. Then again I have been spoiled with the benefits of modern technology.
We passed a great deal of time in silence, holding hands, with her whispering to me "Godbless".
Definitely one of those shifts that makes you contemplate going back to church but the fact of the matter is you can live your life without the religious structure doing the same amount of good. Abide by the golden rule (or whatever its called elsewhere) and youre generally ok. It does also make you wonder how the church provides for their own flock if im coming in to do something their own people could do. Was this a particularly short term situation? Do they even have retirement homes for clergy? Do Clergy even retire?
Friday, January 23, 2009
Day 1
Almost lost keys in the psych ward. They would have had to get all new locks.
Me=Fired.
I called into Johanna and tell her about my bloody scare. Perhaps its a good idea to let the nurses know that it might not be such a good idea to give us attendents such important objects.
Psych ward is a complicated place. Its both uplifting (knowing first and foremost my feet are planted on the ground and i believe im completely sane) and depressing (these poor bastards).
Alot of todays shift went off like an afterschool special. The first nurse i talked to introduced herself by telling me about a kid who lost touch with reality because he smoked so much pot. Then proceeded to tell me about a guy who did a hit of e and went crazy. Good stuff. Thanks Nancy Regan. You really know how to speak to the youts.
Theres always jokes about the extremities of mental illness of any sorts. Jokes about dudes that wear tinfoil hats or believe the walls are talking to them. The boggles and reels when you are finally introduced to these same people. It breaks your heart knowing very well these people believe in earnest that what they tell you is their reality. The patient i had was quite sedate as she had a form of organic alzheimers. Apparently she had no understand of my presence. I wonder how far that extends. Does she only acknowledge certain people? How does one get her to acknowledge you? How long does this acknowledgement last? I failed to find the difference between organic alzheimers and regular alzheimers, so im no more knowledgeable than before outside of the first hand experience.
Through out the night i was introduced to a host of characters. The majority in their middle age. I did meet several boys in my own age. One of which told the nurse, heartbreakingly, that 'he just wanted to talk to me', another who talked to the magnets in his hands. The most crippling thought to me about these people is that they will never know the joys of carrying on with a regular life. They will never know a 9-5 existence filled with an 8 hour workday, children needing food then school then food then attention then sleep. They will never be able to focus on loving another person because they are too trapped in their own lost little world. More often than not these worlds are filled with fear and panic. 24 hours a day, 7 days a week. Nonstop.
Me=Fired.
I called into Johanna and tell her about my bloody scare. Perhaps its a good idea to let the nurses know that it might not be such a good idea to give us attendents such important objects.
Psych ward is a complicated place. Its both uplifting (knowing first and foremost my feet are planted on the ground and i believe im completely sane) and depressing (these poor bastards).
Alot of todays shift went off like an afterschool special. The first nurse i talked to introduced herself by telling me about a kid who lost touch with reality because he smoked so much pot. Then proceeded to tell me about a guy who did a hit of e and went crazy. Good stuff. Thanks Nancy Regan. You really know how to speak to the youts.
Theres always jokes about the extremities of mental illness of any sorts. Jokes about dudes that wear tinfoil hats or believe the walls are talking to them. The boggles and reels when you are finally introduced to these same people. It breaks your heart knowing very well these people believe in earnest that what they tell you is their reality. The patient i had was quite sedate as she had a form of organic alzheimers. Apparently she had no understand of my presence. I wonder how far that extends. Does she only acknowledge certain people? How does one get her to acknowledge you? How long does this acknowledgement last? I failed to find the difference between organic alzheimers and regular alzheimers, so im no more knowledgeable than before outside of the first hand experience.
Through out the night i was introduced to a host of characters. The majority in their middle age. I did meet several boys in my own age. One of which told the nurse, heartbreakingly, that 'he just wanted to talk to me', another who talked to the magnets in his hands. The most crippling thought to me about these people is that they will never know the joys of carrying on with a regular life. They will never know a 9-5 existence filled with an 8 hour workday, children needing food then school then food then attention then sleep. They will never be able to focus on loving another person because they are too trapped in their own lost little world. More often than not these worlds are filled with fear and panic. 24 hours a day, 7 days a week. Nonstop.
Codes: A second beginning
DNR= Do not resuscitate = No Code
Full Code = Do everything
MRSA- Virus cant get rid of. Complications.
C-Diff - Jelly Explosive shit w/ sour smell
-Dont write name of person on any sheets
-Get name of the nurse
-I should know all the info from nurse within first hr. of my arrival, anything out of the ordinary happens call work
-always assume injury? Missing articles?
Upon Arrival
1- Go to security
2- Show ID badge + SIgn in.
If @ rehab, sign in @vg, @vg they'll give you another card which GOTTA GO BACK @ VG!
Full Code = Do everything
MRSA- Virus cant get rid of. Complications.
C-Diff - Jelly Explosive shit w/ sour smell
-Dont write name of person on any sheets
-Get name of the nurse
-I should know all the info from nurse within first hr. of my arrival, anything out of the ordinary happens call work
-always assume injury? Missing articles?
Upon Arrival
1- Go to security
2- Show ID badge + SIgn in.
If @ rehab, sign in @vg, @vg they'll give you another card which GOTTA GO BACK @ VG!
Sunday, January 04, 2009
Suicide Watch
Just realized that the one thing i promised along time ago and never posted was the shift i spent watching a gentleman on suicide watch. I was thinking about how I never wrote down the actual shift as I usually do and it didnt take long to realize that although this gentleman was in complete mental anguish, he was the most 'sensible' and lucid of all the patients I had had.
More often then not these patients would live a sort of fantasy existence only in the sense that no matter where they were in their own minds, here on planet earth they would be physically looked after. In the case of this gentleman, he had most everything a person could ask for, with exception to clinical depression and suicidal tendencies.
He was a doctor who looked to be in his mid to late 30s who had confessed that he had a wife and a small baby (who had been just born). The poor gentlemans situation was a travesty. Not to downplay the others but rarely did they recognize their own situations where as in the case of the doctor, he knew exactly what the problem was and as a result it would often perpetuate itself. He would feel bad for feeling bad. You dig?
He had worked in the Emergency room for the last few years and that had added to the strain. It was difficult to ask him questions only in the fact that I felt so fucking bad for him and didnt want to set off any incidents in which he would harm himself or dwell on something that I had said then injuring himself. Not that it was expected that he'd try and do himself in front of me but that you didnt want to leave any lingering thoughts (something which we have no power and no control over when it comes to interacting with people such as this).
He was quite open and honest, possibly even cheerful (with an overpowering sense of melancholy, hows that possible right? it is easy up narc). We talked about all manners, nothing at this moment strikes me in particular outside of his family and work life. Granted i didnt prod and asked the usual sorts of questions you would ask any stranger you were spending a large amount of time with.
When we were instructed about taking care of patients on suicide watch we are told to keep any objects that might harm them (like razors, scissors etc) from their reach, we may never let them leave our line of sight (ie if they go to the bathroom, its with the door open). Some of these guide lines were particularly difficult to abide by because he was so lucid and normal. I did for instance allow him to go to the bathroom with the door left only slightly ajar, however i couldnt help but notice the plastic shave razor by his sink and kept thinking about me having to frantically call security or whoever to come to his room because he had attempted to slit his wrists. That never happened thank god. He did try to jump from his window on the 4th or 5th floor tho several days later.
More often then not these patients would live a sort of fantasy existence only in the sense that no matter where they were in their own minds, here on planet earth they would be physically looked after. In the case of this gentleman, he had most everything a person could ask for, with exception to clinical depression and suicidal tendencies.
He was a doctor who looked to be in his mid to late 30s who had confessed that he had a wife and a small baby (who had been just born). The poor gentlemans situation was a travesty. Not to downplay the others but rarely did they recognize their own situations where as in the case of the doctor, he knew exactly what the problem was and as a result it would often perpetuate itself. He would feel bad for feeling bad. You dig?
He had worked in the Emergency room for the last few years and that had added to the strain. It was difficult to ask him questions only in the fact that I felt so fucking bad for him and didnt want to set off any incidents in which he would harm himself or dwell on something that I had said then injuring himself. Not that it was expected that he'd try and do himself in front of me but that you didnt want to leave any lingering thoughts (something which we have no power and no control over when it comes to interacting with people such as this).
He was quite open and honest, possibly even cheerful (with an overpowering sense of melancholy, hows that possible right? it is easy up narc). We talked about all manners, nothing at this moment strikes me in particular outside of his family and work life. Granted i didnt prod and asked the usual sorts of questions you would ask any stranger you were spending a large amount of time with.
When we were instructed about taking care of patients on suicide watch we are told to keep any objects that might harm them (like razors, scissors etc) from their reach, we may never let them leave our line of sight (ie if they go to the bathroom, its with the door open). Some of these guide lines were particularly difficult to abide by because he was so lucid and normal. I did for instance allow him to go to the bathroom with the door left only slightly ajar, however i couldnt help but notice the plastic shave razor by his sink and kept thinking about me having to frantically call security or whoever to come to his room because he had attempted to slit his wrists. That never happened thank god. He did try to jump from his window on the 4th or 5th floor tho several days later.
Apologies/The Aged Flesh
for not writing in so long. Few readers know im now located in South Korea for the next year. Ill be doing some writing, possibly posting it in another blog or something on a future date. Im just about finished my book with all my own experiences in the hospitals however as mentioned previously my sister gave me hers, so i will continue to write drawing from her experiences. I do intend on continuing to write in my smut blog as well however I have to wait for a conversion plug (they use the european/asian two prong plugs here AND they dont have the conversion ones we can find at fucking radioshack here so ive been forced to use a coworkers who lends it to me from time to time as she needs it for her hairdryer. I expect to be back up and running in the next week or so. Also Korean girls show alot of leg. I like it. Ive developed a new fetish as a result. That should give me ample fodder for smut). Back to the topic at hand, hospitals.
The aged flesh is a tender and brittle thing.
Unfortunately today I had to witness a patient be told that his leg was going to be amputated. He then started crying and mumbling something. The doctor asked him to repeat himself and he said "I wish I was dead". Its an obvious fact of life that the human body begins to deteriorate. For instance as we age the skin becomes increasing translucent and brittle. It goes from young, firm and supple to dry, cracked and limited. Of course there is always the potential with debilitating and weakening diseases like aids that delay and/or deny the body of its regenerative capabilities (such as lesions that do not heal). But for the most part it is a process that approaches us in the autumn and winters of our lives.
It makes me wonder if taking care of oneself merely delays the inevitable, deludes us into the belief of relative immortality/invincibility through vanity. There was alot of y's used in that last sentence.
I have stared death in the face, hes falling apart piece by piece.
The other death I saw wears a canadian flag bandana and a mesh wife beater. He also has a goatee and a ponytail.
The aged flesh is a tender and brittle thing.
Unfortunately today I had to witness a patient be told that his leg was going to be amputated. He then started crying and mumbling something. The doctor asked him to repeat himself and he said "I wish I was dead". Its an obvious fact of life that the human body begins to deteriorate. For instance as we age the skin becomes increasing translucent and brittle. It goes from young, firm and supple to dry, cracked and limited. Of course there is always the potential with debilitating and weakening diseases like aids that delay and/or deny the body of its regenerative capabilities (such as lesions that do not heal). But for the most part it is a process that approaches us in the autumn and winters of our lives.
It makes me wonder if taking care of oneself merely delays the inevitable, deludes us into the belief of relative immortality/invincibility through vanity. There was alot of y's used in that last sentence.
I have stared death in the face, hes falling apart piece by piece.
The other death I saw wears a canadian flag bandana and a mesh wife beater. He also has a goatee and a ponytail.
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