Friday, December 12, 2008


Much to OPEC's chagrin....

I just filled up my 16 gallon tank for less than $26.


Tuesday, December 02, 2008


Here endeth the lesson

Just so you're all sufficiently warned, the following is a story that will make you sit way back in your ergonomically sensible office chair and say to yourself, "Phew. Am *I* glad I picked a job where I can sit here in my ergonomically sensible office chair and check email all day and NOT do what Cathy does all day. Damn. Her job is way gross. Just thinking about it makes me want to vomit in the back of my mouth a little bit. I can't believe she warned me and I still read that blog. So gross.... OOOO, I got an IM from someone!"

As I've mentioned before, our unit gets our fair share of nursing students. As a good nurse, I take sometimes several students with me throughout the day to teach but more likely keep as a captive audience for 12 hours to listen to my terribly bad jokes. Today was no different.

So my patient, an elderly gentleman who speaks no English, which doesn't matter because he actually doesn't speak thanks to the series of strokes he's had over the years, cannot take anything orally -- also thanks to the series of strokes he's had over the years. So when he (uh oh! Here comes some medical jargon you've likely heard on E.R. or House!) spiked a temp today the only way to administer the Tylenol to bring down his fever was either through his feeding tube or.. um, the other way. Pills down his feeding tube were out of the running. And I bet you didn't know that your dear friend Tylenol makes and markets little bullet shaped suppositories that just go.. VOOP! up the pooper.

I assembled my gloves, lube and little magic Tylenol bullet and gathered my students. "Watch what I do and then we'll talk about why I did it this way." Don gloves. Open bullet. Apply lube to bullet. Position patient. Make attempt at explanations and apologies to patient. and in one quick gesture so you don't have to ruminate too long about where your finger is.. VOOP! up the pooper. (It's at this point when you're making a face and hating my job, right?)

As I pulled my hand away, somewhat.. uh, sullied, one of the students gasped and said, "Holy crap, the glove on your finger BROKE! GROSS!"

Cooly, I held up my hand. The gloved part on my pooper finger broken and rolled back. In my coolest, all knowing voice I said, "And that's when you weren't paying attention, ladies. When dealing downtown, you always double glove."

A lesson I think we might all take something away from. Always double glove.

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