Hospital Happenings

Hospitals smell funny.

However, since I have chosen nursing as my profession, I guess I should just get used to it. My new job is helping in that area; every day I am exposed to the various lovely aromas that accompany patient care, from festering wound to Clostridium difficile diarrhea to plain, ordinary body odor. Charming, wouldn't you agree?

The good thing about the hospital is that it has climate control. My last job was moving books around in a warehouse that was originally constructed as a Guinness World Record project: Largest Solar Oven. It was converted into a warehouse by the installation of ceiling fans that are excellent at driving the hot air from the ceiling down upon the heads of workers, making them wish that it weren't quite so expensive to move to Alaska.

While I was sad to leave my friends at my old job, when I resigned in May I was looking forward to working inside a real building with climate control. Now I work at a Veteran's Administration hospital as a student nurse technician. I clean up patients, clean up poop, and run errands for nurses and patients. Oh, and I measure blood pressures once per shift.

The work itself is not the exciting part. I enjoy my job because of all the people I get to meet. All of our patients have served our country in the armed forces. We have veterans from every conflict from WWII through OIF (Operation Iraqi Freedom). Most of our patients are in the 40+ age range. The veterans get free service at the VA hospital, so they are more grateful and less demanding than patients I've encountered in other hospitals. A lot of "my guys" are native to this area, too, and have good Southern manners, always saying "yes ma'am," even though I'm the age of some of their grandchildren!

There have been some interesting characters I've encountered, and my next postings will be about a few of them.

One patient, fifty years my senior, kept telling me what a fine young lady I was. It was rather awkward, as I was feeding him his breakfast at the time, trying to get him to eat his pureed french toast and struggling to keep his oxygen mask on between bites. I felt kind of rude to say, "Well, thank you. HERE, take another bite," but the day before it had taken him more than an hour to eat breakfast, and I needed to move on to other duties. The gentleman told me I was going to break some young man's heart. I replied that I hoped not, as I was engaged to one young man and had no intention of breaking his heart. My patient sighed.

"How old are you?" he asked
"Twenty-two."
He sighed again. "Too young. And I'm married. It wouldn't work."
No, it wouldn't work. Ever. Ever. But he was a sweet old man, who was nice to all the staff, so I didn't want to be rude. Poor guy.

One of my less strenuous jobs at work is sitting. Yes, I did indeed say "sitting." Sometimes we have patients who cannot be left alone. Some people keep trying to get out of bed. That isn't a problem, except that often they are too weak to walk, so they fall and get subdural hematomas. Well, they could get subdural hematomas, at least one per patient. We would get in mondo heaps of trouble if that happened, so we assign one staff member to sit with the patient and keep him sitting down, unless his family is present to take care of him.
I sat with Mr. R. last week. He told me about his travels across Asia with the military. He was in the Korean war and spent some time in Seoul. The last time he saw it, though, it was still a rough, poverty-stricken place.
"I sure wish I could go back and see it now," he said wistfully. And loudly. Like many hard-of-hearing patients, his normal tone of voice was only slightly softer than a megaphone-wielding crowd-control officer.

Mr. R. also told me an interesting story. After his military service, he owned his own tree-trimming business. Tree trimming as in pruning branches outside, not decorating for Christmas. Apparently pruning is much more dangerous than preparing for the holiday season. He told me he had an accident that did permanent damage to his legs.
"Did you climb up in the trees to trim them?" I queried.
"Naw, I had a machine to take me up there. But I got the big head [which evidently makes one top-heavy] and fell out of the tree, 'bout thirty feet to the gravel driveway." I made appropriate facial expressions of horror while he continued.
"They thought I was dead, until one lady noticed the sheet [over me] rising and falling. I reckon if they hadn't, I'd a woke up at the cold storage bin in the morgue!"

Something I really admire about some of these guys is how they retain a sense of humor, even in very trying circumstances. Not long after I arrived to work at the VA, the nurses on my floor received a note from a patient thanking them for taking such good care of him "while I was there gittin' my leg sawed off. [sic]"

You've gotta love 'em!

Whew, long post.

I have a few more stories, but it's time for Bible study right now. I'll have to write up more adventures later!

A new horizon

I am writing from the tiny keyboard of my fiancé's bargain iPhone that has no phone service. It is a lot easier to type when we're not hurtling down the interstate. Here this actually is not much different from writing with regard to speed. Punctuation is harder, but I might survive for short bursts.
I will write soon about some of my hospital adventures, like the little old man who showed symptoms of Nightingale syndrome, or the gentleman who got "the big head" and narrowly escaped spending a night in the morgue...while still alive!

Thanks for letting me play with your iPhone, Scott!