Well, I will say this: I am thoroughly tuckered.
It's been a long, exciting week full of a mad rush of things. So far, I'm enjoying the classes, my classmates and the two professors that are currently teaching my classes. One is younger, was a rehab nurse and just received her MSN about a year ago. The other is a seasoned psych nurse who still works PRN at the local Big Hospital and also worked for my state's BON for a number of years. They're both different and like to emphasize different things for different reasons. So far, despite being overwhelmed, I'm happy.
I'm actually just taking a break from studying for a test I have tomorrow on nursing theory. I get that it's necessary to learn, but it is dry reading to me. We had a review the other day, set up Jeopardy style. I ended up with some decent cash, but not enough to earn the NANDA Diagnosis book that was 1st prize. Mine was a pen that looks like a syringe with some metallic red fluid floating about in it.
Up on the block for this week: aforementioned test, assessment, vitals and CPR certification as a class (I know most schools require certification before entry, but my university was finding that people who came in certified via work or whatever were expiring partway into the program, so this is easier for uniformity's sake). The week after, we have our first clinical date. I'm really holding back on the exclamation points here, guys.
Annnnnd, that test won't study for itself.
Sunday, September 7, 2008
Thursday, August 28, 2008
Well, that's just fine.
Or: How I Spent Eleventy Billion Dollars on Stuff for Nursing School (And Spent My Short Vacation Getting Ready for It)..
I've heard the legends and been warned, but really, until the past few weeks had no idea the accoutrement involved with starting nursing school.
First off, it was the uniform debacle. White tops with nursing program logo/crest and navy bottoms. Okay. While I'd rather not wear white at all, I guess a white top is more passable than white bottom so as to not disrupt my 50% state of awakeness upon dressing most mornings without looking. It would be awkward to realize or be told around 10:00 that my festive polka dots are peeking out for all to see. That has been a disaster with wearing white scrub bottoms before. I actually got sent home from a past job for such an indiscretion (even though I'd asked my husband that morning if anything was visible; thanks to this and other oopsies he's let slide, he is no longer asked). But, it was an icky, icky place to work, so in retrospect, I had the prescience to show them my true feelings early on. So, with white tops comes the responsibility of attaining (ahem) the proper undergarments. In addition, I bought a few cami-type white tank tops and long-sleeved shirts. We get lab coats as part of our uniform, but they're incredibly thin. I'm always cold.
Anywhoodle, after I'd managed to snag enough uniforms to make me comfortable (4 is the magic number for now), then I had to get shoes. Since my program has ixnayed my beloved Crocs, I had to go to Plan B. After consulting every corner of the internet, I felt fairly comfortable in choosing the Dansko Courtney and the NurseMates Quincy. The Danskos are fantastic and well worth the cost; I'm still waiting on the NurseMates I really love maryjanes. Our shoes have to be leather and all-white, which kind of automatically eliminated the idea of a sneaker for me. I really dislike all-white sneakers (no flair! no zip! what?) I'm a child of the 80''s and equate all-white or all-black sneakers with guidos (This is nothing personal and I apologize for my insensitivity toward you classic Reebok-loving people who are not and do not resemble guidos).
Then came compression hose for clinicals and some new white socks, because my dingy ones peeking through wouldn't cut it. There are daily inspections as to dress code adherence. I wish I were kidding. But, at orientation, they lined up the cohort before us and pointed out each infraction. Hoo boy.
Next, there was grooming. I'm all for the preemptive strike and being of such makeup, cut my hair into style requiring less maintenance and dyed my summer-blonded hair back to its natural, more placated state of a few shades darker. I don''t want to fuss with my hair when I know soon, sleep will become a precious commodity of my time.
I also needed a new pair of glasses. So, I've gotten my exam and those are on the way. I have no idea how much time I will have, so I've made sure to have checkups with all my physicians and med refills.
The one thing I've held out on has been the Skyscape Nursing Constellation Suite. because even though I have a Palm T|X, I realllllly want an iPhone. And if I cave, I'd rather have everything on it.
And finally, the coup de grace: as pictured, you can see (in part), my fundamentals and pharmacology books (and stethoscope. bandage scissors, etc.). From what I can understand, there are indeed more books and our nursing kit on the way that were delayed due to Tropical Storm Fay closing my school for three days and causing a delay in shipment. My NCLEX review book is not pictured. If you look closely, you will notice how lazy I was for not cleaning my desk first. Cut me some slack; I'd just amassed all these things into one conglomeration for the first time and was a little overwhelmed to say the least.
I have Chapters 1-5 from the fundamentals book, the nursing program handbook and JCAHO's 2009 Patient Safety Goals to have remembered by the first day. There will be a test.
5 days. I got this.
I've heard the legends and been warned, but really, until the past few weeks had no idea the accoutrement involved with starting nursing school.
First off, it was the uniform debacle. White tops with nursing program logo/crest and navy bottoms. Okay. While I'd rather not wear white at all, I guess a white top is more passable than white bottom so as to not disrupt my 50% state of awakeness upon dressing most mornings without looking. It would be awkward to realize or be told around 10:00 that my festive polka dots are peeking out for all to see. That has been a disaster with wearing white scrub bottoms before. I actually got sent home from a past job for such an indiscretion (even though I'd asked my husband that morning if anything was visible; thanks to this and other oopsies he's let slide, he is no longer asked). But, it was an icky, icky place to work, so in retrospect, I had the prescience to show them my true feelings early on. So, with white tops comes the responsibility of attaining (ahem) the proper undergarments. In addition, I bought a few cami-type white tank tops and long-sleeved shirts. We get lab coats as part of our uniform, but they're incredibly thin. I'm always cold.
Anywhoodle, after I'd managed to snag enough uniforms to make me comfortable (4 is the magic number for now), then I had to get shoes. Since my program has ixnayed my beloved Crocs, I had to go to Plan B. After consulting every corner of the internet, I felt fairly comfortable in choosing the Dansko Courtney and the NurseMates Quincy. The Danskos are fantastic and well worth the cost; I'm still waiting on the NurseMates I really love maryjanes. Our shoes have to be leather and all-white, which kind of automatically eliminated the idea of a sneaker for me. I really dislike all-white sneakers (no flair! no zip! what?) I'm a child of the 80''s and equate all-white or all-black sneakers with guidos (This is nothing personal and I apologize for my insensitivity toward you classic Reebok-loving people who are not and do not resemble guidos).
Then came compression hose for clinicals and some new white socks, because my dingy ones peeking through wouldn't cut it. There are daily inspections as to dress code adherence. I wish I were kidding. But, at orientation, they lined up the cohort before us and pointed out each infraction. Hoo boy.
Next, there was grooming. I'm all for the preemptive strike and being of such makeup, cut my hair into style requiring less maintenance and dyed my summer-blonded hair back to its natural, more placated state of a few shades darker. I don''t want to fuss with my hair when I know soon, sleep will become a precious commodity of my time.
I also needed a new pair of glasses. So, I've gotten my exam and those are on the way. I have no idea how much time I will have, so I've made sure to have checkups with all my physicians and med refills.
The one thing I've held out on has been the Skyscape Nursing Constellation Suite. because even though I have a Palm T|X, I realllllly want an iPhone. And if I cave, I'd rather have everything on it.
And finally, the coup de grace: as pictured, you can see (in part), my fundamentals and pharmacology books (and stethoscope. bandage scissors, etc.). From what I can understand, there are indeed more books and our nursing kit on the way that were delayed due to Tropical Storm Fay closing my school for three days and causing a delay in shipment. My NCLEX review book is not pictured. If you look closely, you will notice how lazy I was for not cleaning my desk first. Cut me some slack; I'd just amassed all these things into one conglomeration for the first time and was a little overwhelmed to say the least.
I have Chapters 1-5 from the fundamentals book, the nursing program handbook and JCAHO's 2009 Patient Safety Goals to have remembered by the first day. There will be a test.
5 days. I got this.
Tuesday, June 17, 2008
Hodgepodge
It seems that I've been amiss in keeping up with the blogging.
But, in all fairness, I've had the following superawesome and completely un-awesome events happen:
So, the soon-to-be Mr. Somnambulant proposed to me a few weeks ago in a really special and wonderful way. I'm not one for gushing, but we've been together for a long time and I'm extremely happy. It's been full on crazy ever since with visits to my parents, his parents and several phone calls regarding dresses, cakes and various bridal whatnot. I have been very firm about the fact that when I am in school, that is going to be the most important thing going down for the next 1.5 years and as such, was not in the least interested in planning a wedding during that time. So, in the wake of the realization that our parents wanted a big wedding in my hometown (my father is too ill to travel) and we wanted something small/intimate in a place that is special to us, combined with my school obligations plus a little bit of practicality (read: he will be my sole support and has rockin' health insurance through his employer), we've opted to compromise. On my short break from school, we, plus two friends will travel to said special place & get hitched (which is NOT Vegas, just in case you wondered). I'm pretty excited for this because we get the best of both worlds, with a lot of small touches that although our parents would never fully object to, I don't think is in their vision of a wedding. This way, the mister & I spend a lot less money, have a great long weekend, get back to the grind with silly grins on our faces. Then, after I graduate, we have this fancy fete where I wear a poofy dress, we have a lovely time with a bunch of family, friends and people our parents know and the whole nine of videographer, photographer & the like while I can still put a personal touch on things that everyone is happy with and our parents pay for the bash. Everyone wins. Still, even though the wedding for this summer is quite small, there is still a lot to do. Long-distance at that.
Needless to say, there is all of this (and more) going on right now. Luckily, there is a lot of good. I'm happy about that. I've been hearing a lot about how lucky I am right now. I don't know about luck, but I have an enormous amount of gratitude for how well everything is fitting into place right now. We've worked hard as a couple to be ready for marriage and I know that I'm marrying the person I'll spend my entire life with. I've worked exceptionally hard to get into my nursing program. I've pushed every day, and started pushing even harder once I was diagnosed with RA because I know how easy it can be to give in to pain. I'll keep pushing, because I don't see any other option.
Take a note, fibro whiners. Life is so much better this way.
But, in all fairness, I've had the following superawesome and completely un-awesome events happen:
- Gotten engaged! Woo!
- Planning a wedding for July (more on that in a moment).
- Gave notice at my job. That was actually bittersweet.
- Summer term at school = fun times.
So, the soon-to-be Mr. Somnambulant proposed to me a few weeks ago in a really special and wonderful way. I'm not one for gushing, but we've been together for a long time and I'm extremely happy. It's been full on crazy ever since with visits to my parents, his parents and several phone calls regarding dresses, cakes and various bridal whatnot. I have been very firm about the fact that when I am in school, that is going to be the most important thing going down for the next 1.5 years and as such, was not in the least interested in planning a wedding during that time. So, in the wake of the realization that our parents wanted a big wedding in my hometown (my father is too ill to travel) and we wanted something small/intimate in a place that is special to us, combined with my school obligations plus a little bit of practicality (read: he will be my sole support and has rockin' health insurance through his employer), we've opted to compromise. On my short break from school, we, plus two friends will travel to said special place & get hitched (which is NOT Vegas, just in case you wondered). I'm pretty excited for this because we get the best of both worlds, with a lot of small touches that although our parents would never fully object to, I don't think is in their vision of a wedding. This way, the mister & I spend a lot less money, have a great long weekend, get back to the grind with silly grins on our faces. Then, after I graduate, we have this fancy fete where I wear a poofy dress, we have a lovely time with a bunch of family, friends and people our parents know and the whole nine of videographer, photographer & the like while I can still put a personal touch on things that everyone is happy with and our parents pay for the bash. Everyone wins. Still, even though the wedding for this summer is quite small, there is still a lot to do. Long-distance at that.
Needless to say, there is all of this (and more) going on right now. Luckily, there is a lot of good. I'm happy about that. I've been hearing a lot about how lucky I am right now. I don't know about luck, but I have an enormous amount of gratitude for how well everything is fitting into place right now. We've worked hard as a couple to be ready for marriage and I know that I'm marrying the person I'll spend my entire life with. I've worked exceptionally hard to get into my nursing program. I've pushed every day, and started pushing even harder once I was diagnosed with RA because I know how easy it can be to give in to pain. I'll keep pushing, because I don't see any other option.
Take a note, fibro whiners. Life is so much better this way.
Friday, May 23, 2008
Already be startin' somethin'
I don't think anyone is reading this yet and may not for some time (ever?). But, I'm about to say some things that someone will eventually get their knickers in a knot about.
As previously mentioned, I work in pain management. Let me level with you: I hate pain management. I love the office I work in and I especially love my coworkers. But, 70% of our patient population has a critical dx of waaahhitis secondary to mental instability or victim mentality. I work on the clinical team and as a surgical coordinator. I could diagram you the ways in which people annoy me, but Blogger doesn't have the space. So. I'm going to present a little list of bad touches that pain management patients inflict on our staff:
10. Stay off of your cell phone. I know that your 10/10 pain requires constant conversation despite signs everywhere that specifically state NO CELL PHONE USE, but even so, I will ask you politely once to hang up. If you don't comply in 10 seconds, I'm moving on with another patient and you will have to wait until I'm free. You will not cause other patients to needlessly wait nor will I waste my time watching you yammer.
9. There are two crucial pre-procedure instructions that clearly state no NSAIDs 5 days before a procedure and no ABX one week beforehand. Should you oopsie on either and neglect to call to inform, you will be canceled when you sashay your little self into the office. The rules DO apply to you, snowflake, and no matter how long Dr. X has treated you or that you were patient #1 when his office had one exam room (amazing how many of you there are), you will still be canceled and told to reschedule when you are smart enough to treat.
8. We use this handy thing called EMR. Aside from notes, it keeps track of how many times you have "lost" your prescriptions, had them stolen, what drug stores you use and various other fuckery you employ to gain our sympathies and try to outwit the system. Chances are you won't win. And if you do, it's temporary. You will be caught, discharged and turned over the the appropriate authorities who we all know quite well.
7. Yes, you have to piddle in a cup for the tox screen. Again, snowflake, rules. 20% of our patients abuse their meds or someone else's. No pee, no Rx. Nothing personal.
6. If you schedule a surgery, regardless of how minor, keep the appointment. Despite what you may think, it requires clinical staffing, anesthesia and time alloted just for you. And your last minute cancellation could have been a procedure done sooner on a little old lady who cringes at the thought of tramadol. I love them. BTdubs, if you could stop salivating over the thought of the narcotic buffet long enough after you got the referral to our office to read the mission statement, we're therapy-driven, not medication. Just, um, something to consider.
5. If you are 23 and on the highest dose of Duragesic possible, use breakthrough narcotics, a muscle relaxer, two antidepressants, Lyrica, anti-anxiety meds AND have a spinal cord stimulator, but you feel like nothing is working, give up the ghost, sister. We can't help you any longer.
4. No matter how many names you sweet talk us with, it's not going to get anything done more quickly. Your crocodile tears intermingled with agonized cries of how abandoned you've been really do nothing to help your situation. I don't know where the idea started that childish foot stomping greases the wheel, but asking for something reasonably is pretty much all I need.
3. "I wish you could be in the amount of pain I'm in everyday!". This has quickly become an old chestnut. In my office, there are 3 breast cancer survivors (one just recently in remission), an Iraq vet with shrapnel in his body and daily pain, and many who have daily achy backs (and hell, probably as much DDD as any patient) from lifting patients who are pushing three bills and wonder why they have low back pain. I have rheumatoid arthritis controlled nicely by non-narcotic therapy. So, we know pain, and as a bonus, wake up every day to be productive members of society. Don't make assumptions. You kind of look like an asshole in the end.
2. If you are: laughing/talking on your cell phone/talking to anyone about anything other than pain/not crying/not begging to be put out of your misery and have normal vitals, please hear this: YOUR PAIN IS NOT A 10/10. Listen, people. I know pain is subjective. But, there are certain facts that belie the amount of pain stated vs. patient appearance. Ugh. This makes my brain hurt at 10/10.
1. For those who will tell me I lack compassion, you're so far from correct, you're just living in Wrongland. I have all the compassion in the world for people who suffer with pain and are in need. Like those with cord injuries, MS or the kids with CP that we treat for spasticity. I'm there and I love it. But, for those of you draining the system and my will to live at times, you get the perfunctory civility and not a whole hell of a lot more. That's how I roll.
This has been a Somnabulant, future-BSN PSA.
As previously mentioned, I work in pain management. Let me level with you: I hate pain management. I love the office I work in and I especially love my coworkers. But, 70% of our patient population has a critical dx of waaahhitis secondary to mental instability or victim mentality. I work on the clinical team and as a surgical coordinator. I could diagram you the ways in which people annoy me, but Blogger doesn't have the space. So. I'm going to present a little list of bad touches that pain management patients inflict on our staff:
10. Stay off of your cell phone. I know that your 10/10 pain requires constant conversation despite signs everywhere that specifically state NO CELL PHONE USE, but even so, I will ask you politely once to hang up. If you don't comply in 10 seconds, I'm moving on with another patient and you will have to wait until I'm free. You will not cause other patients to needlessly wait nor will I waste my time watching you yammer.
9. There are two crucial pre-procedure instructions that clearly state no NSAIDs 5 days before a procedure and no ABX one week beforehand. Should you oopsie on either and neglect to call to inform, you will be canceled when you sashay your little self into the office. The rules DO apply to you, snowflake, and no matter how long Dr. X has treated you or that you were patient #1 when his office had one exam room (amazing how many of you there are), you will still be canceled and told to reschedule when you are smart enough to treat.
8. We use this handy thing called EMR. Aside from notes, it keeps track of how many times you have "lost" your prescriptions, had them stolen, what drug stores you use and various other fuckery you employ to gain our sympathies and try to outwit the system. Chances are you won't win. And if you do, it's temporary. You will be caught, discharged and turned over the the appropriate authorities who we all know quite well.
7. Yes, you have to piddle in a cup for the tox screen. Again, snowflake, rules. 20% of our patients abuse their meds or someone else's. No pee, no Rx. Nothing personal.
6. If you schedule a surgery, regardless of how minor, keep the appointment. Despite what you may think, it requires clinical staffing, anesthesia and time alloted just for you. And your last minute cancellation could have been a procedure done sooner on a little old lady who cringes at the thought of tramadol. I love them. BTdubs, if you could stop salivating over the thought of the narcotic buffet long enough after you got the referral to our office to read the mission statement, we're therapy-driven, not medication. Just, um, something to consider.
5. If you are 23 and on the highest dose of Duragesic possible, use breakthrough narcotics, a muscle relaxer, two antidepressants, Lyrica, anti-anxiety meds AND have a spinal cord stimulator, but you feel like nothing is working, give up the ghost, sister. We can't help you any longer.
4. No matter how many names you sweet talk us with, it's not going to get anything done more quickly. Your crocodile tears intermingled with agonized cries of how abandoned you've been really do nothing to help your situation. I don't know where the idea started that childish foot stomping greases the wheel, but asking for something reasonably is pretty much all I need.
3. "I wish you could be in the amount of pain I'm in everyday!". This has quickly become an old chestnut. In my office, there are 3 breast cancer survivors (one just recently in remission), an Iraq vet with shrapnel in his body and daily pain, and many who have daily achy backs (and hell, probably as much DDD as any patient) from lifting patients who are pushing three bills and wonder why they have low back pain. I have rheumatoid arthritis controlled nicely by non-narcotic therapy. So, we know pain, and as a bonus, wake up every day to be productive members of society. Don't make assumptions. You kind of look like an asshole in the end.
2. If you are: laughing/talking on your cell phone/talking to anyone about anything other than pain/not crying/not begging to be put out of your misery and have normal vitals, please hear this: YOUR PAIN IS NOT A 10/10. Listen, people. I know pain is subjective. But, there are certain facts that belie the amount of pain stated vs. patient appearance. Ugh. This makes my brain hurt at 10/10.
1. For those who will tell me I lack compassion, you're so far from correct, you're just living in Wrongland. I have all the compassion in the world for people who suffer with pain and are in need. Like those with cord injuries, MS or the kids with CP that we treat for spasticity. I'm there and I love it. But, for those of you draining the system and my will to live at times, you get the perfunctory civility and not a whole hell of a lot more. That's how I roll.
This has been a Somnabulant, future-BSN PSA.
Tuesday, May 20, 2008
Somnambulant: beginning
- Main Entry:
- som·nam·bu·lant
- Pronunciation:
- \säm-ˈnam-byə-lənt\
- Function:
- adjective
- Date:
- 1866
1 : walking or having the habit of walking while asleep 2 : resembling or having the characteristics of a sleepwalker : sluggish
I am a student nurse about to enter fundamentals in the Fall semester (hence the above descriptior). I am pretty excited about this, but also somewhat realistic given my 6+ years in healthcare.
In the meantime, I have spent the last 2+ years working in pain management. I could scrawl a diatribe here and now about my daily travails, but then what else would I tell you about later when my fury is at fever pitch? I do so love telling stories about work.
So. Hi.
I am a student nurse about to enter fundamentals in the Fall semester (hence the above descriptior). I am pretty excited about this, but also somewhat realistic given my 6+ years in healthcare.
In the meantime, I have spent the last 2+ years working in pain management. I could scrawl a diatribe here and now about my daily travails, but then what else would I tell you about later when my fury is at fever pitch? I do so love telling stories about work.
So. Hi.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)