Several occurrences this week have prompted me to think my luck is changing for the better. To wit:
1) At work the other night, I was asked to try an IV on a little old lady that'd been a vascular problem child. She needed Lasix big-time (a heavy-duty diuretic, intended to pull water from places like the tissues and the lungs so the body can get rid of the overload) and was being admitted, and it's just bad form to send a patient upstairs without a line of some sort. The doc had purportedly had to do a femoral stick (arterial, and big) with some trouble to get labs, and other nurses had vainly tried to get any kind of peripheral line. Bottom line, sick sick patient with shit for veins. Unoptimistic, I entered with cheery smile and tourniquet in hand, and after a couple of blown veins of my own, I got a 22-gauge into her 3rd finger PIP (middle finger, first knuckle). Ouch, for sure, but it worked - and later Doc V pulled me aside and said, "That was an
amazing IV start. Nice work." (pfft pfft pfft - the sound of my little nursey head inflating)
2) I got mail from The Donald yesterday. He tells me that he's gonna impart the Trump family financial wisdom and secrets, to me, for free. Wow!!! And here I thought all along that the lottery was my only hope of avoiding total destitution.
And 3) Finally got around to checking the imprinted code on the top of my industrial-size peanut butter (Great Value, as is much of what I buy as a Wal-Mart devotee - though my sweetie has a different, less socially-acceptable moniker for off-brands) - and found that it's one of the recalled ones, 90% gone. Out of the five to seven of us who have consumed peanut butter from that jar, though, none of us has died yet, or even had ugly fits of puking. That's gotta count for something!!
Now, I'm gonna go shovel snow. Ah, winter in the Rockies.
1) At work the other night, I was asked to try an IV on a little old lady that'd been a vascular problem child. She needed Lasix big-time (a heavy-duty diuretic, intended to pull water from places like the tissues and the lungs so the body can get rid of the overload) and was being admitted, and it's just bad form to send a patient upstairs without a line of some sort. The doc had purportedly had to do a femoral stick (arterial, and big) with some trouble to get labs, and other nurses had vainly tried to get any kind of peripheral line. Bottom line, sick sick patient with shit for veins. Unoptimistic, I entered with cheery smile and tourniquet in hand, and after a couple of blown veins of my own, I got a 22-gauge into her 3rd finger PIP (middle finger, first knuckle). Ouch, for sure, but it worked - and later Doc V pulled me aside and said, "That was an amazing IV start. Nice work." (pfft pfft pfft - the sound of my little nursey head inflating)
2) I got mail from The Donald yesterday. He tells me that he's gonna impart the Trump family financial wisdom and secrets, to me, for free. Wow!!! And here I thought all along that the lottery was my only hope of avoiding total destitution.
And 3) Finally got around to checking the imprinted code on the top of my industrial-size peanut butter (Great Value, as is much of what I buy as a Wal-Mart devotee - though my sweetie has a different, less socially-acceptable moniker for off-brands) - and found that it's one of the recalled ones, 90% gone. Out of the five to seven of us who have consumed peanut butter from that jar, though, none of us has died yet, or even had ugly fits of puking. That's gotta count for something!!
Now, I'm gonna go shovel snow. Ah, winter in the Rockies.