Thursday, December 31, 2009

East Coast Steve, is at it again. A definite rival in crap poems, that's for sure. And so fitting here in the end-times.

Thar She Blows

What’s that smell coming from my floor.
Oh no, I think it’s from room sixty-four.
I wouldn’t mind it if I float today
To escape the smell of bowel decay.
C-diff, it could be, I don’t know
With blood mixed in, let me tell you bro’
Every time he poops, he fills the bed,
And I swear it smells like something’s dead.
I know nurses are supposed to take this in stride,
But when it smells like something died
My eyes, they water, my head will swirl,
And before too long, I start to hurl.
The pregnant nurses won’t go near
That smelly, leaking, dying rear,
The other two nurses are on the floor,
So Your’s Truly, gets room sixty four.
I have some Febreze, I spray like mad.
I have Glade for every plug, too bad.
I spread the Vicks beneath my nose,
I Scotch-guard everything from neck to toes.
I’m really thinking Flexi-Seal
Two fingers in, it’s no big deal.
Just hope that stool ain’t too thick.
If it is, I know that I’ll be sick.
So lube it up, and in it goes.
Holy Cow cause Thar She Blows.
He farts a big one, the shit, it flies.
I need a shower before it dries.
Why did I think this would cause no harm?
I now have poop all over my arm.
When I said “She Blows”, he really blew.
I’m going to cry, these scrubs were new. 
There’s doo on my glasses, and I swear
There’s something sticky in my hair.
And when my head begins to throb,
I know that I have done my job.

Steve (watch him heave)H.

Wednesday, December 30, 2009

The two first nights that I spent in the new tower (the unit opened 3 days ago), I was so-o-o-o- lucky to be Relief Charge nurse. Yikes! Both nights would have been considered crazy busy, even in the old unit, but now we're running around like Bob the chicken, who survived decapitated for 8 months.Naturally it got me thinking about the real state of affairs, that we're in. Easy enough: new tower, new equipment, same old jaded crew of over-experienced nurses. Oh, to top it all off, new stuff started breaking with "real" nursing care going on; Go figure!

Like A Lemming

Returning for one more night
Seems a little crazy, for sure,
But we are the answer people
Offering the cheap thrills cure;
A great deal of frustration and angst
Is just water beneath the bridge,
Although sometimes I feel like a Lemming
Being forced over the next plunging ridge.

Long hallways, new closets, and storage rooms
Yes, plenty of places to hide,
Maybe it's better, than it looked from the start
Like a husband reviewing a new bride.

Admissions, on top of admissions
Rapid response, Code Blue and the like,
If you do this for twenty-plus years
Why, it's just like riding a bike;
Careening down the side of Pike's Peak
On a single-track, dark and rainy night,
Survival means, bloodied and bruised
Rejoicing with the mornings first light.

Taking on the role of Relief-Charge-Nurse
I'm paid an extra one-buck-per-hour,
After just two nights this week
It felt like a slap on the cheek,
The smallest of sweeteners, turned sour.

Topping it off, the bosses decided
That Ward-Clerks are at best, obsolete,
For no-bucks-an-hour, the Registered Nurse
Can add all those tasks to their sheet,
Along with the endless new regulatory rules
"Just one more thing" added each week,
It's easy to predict, the next numbing edict
But quite frankly, we're ready to shriek.

Two hundred and twenty million dollars
Give or take a few clams in the mix,
Sister Euphemia is gambling on goodwill
To support all of her magical tricks,
Showing a good face to the community
With a shiny new chapel to boot,
Asking God for obedient employees
And extreme unction for the ones she can shoot.


Sunday, December 20, 2009

Like the Christmas present I wasn't expecting, Steve RN in Virginia (we worked together, years ago, although we're brothers thrice removed), sent me his latest "typical" experience for a nurse.

Saving the Code

S.Huff RN

The I.V.’s running
The foley’s patent,
I smell infection,
But for now, it’s latent.
The code is done,
The heart still beats,
Most of the nurses
Are back in their seats.
He has a rhythm,
His pressure’s stable,
For now, we’ve kept him
Off the table.
But have we done him
Any favors?
This role we have
As, lifesavers.
He breathes for now
Due to a vent,
His infection held intact
By Vanc and Gent.
His pressure kept up
To perfuse his brain,
While the rest of him
Goes down the drain.
This poor man,
It’s such a pity,
I think its time for
The Ethics Committee.
So I call them in,
Just like I should,
They say they’d do something
If they could.

But the doctor had
To show his might,
And insisted he,
And he alone, was right.
And mighty doctor
Had his way,
He took me to
The family that day.
He proclaimed aloud
So all could hear,
This nurse thinks we
Shouldn’t treat your dear.
He’s convinced that
Granddad is already gone,
He thinks his soul
Should be moving on.
And the family looked
At me with eyes of red,
How dare you think
My dearest dead.
The doctor is God
For all we know,
And when Gramps is back
It’s you he’ll show.
So they took me off the case
As well they should,
Poor Gramps was given
To a nurse that “could”.
And, nigh, another night
Went by,
And down the hall
I heard them cry.
Poor Gramps had gone
In ALLLL his glory,
Despite the doctor’s
Convincing story.
What was I to do,
The family now was low,
Should I rub it in and
Say, I told you so? 
Or should I say “He was doing fine”
Just like the doctor said.
Or say the doctor was full of shit
And has mush inside his head.
Or should I approach the crying girl
The one that’s a real moaner,
And say if Gramps was in such good shape
Do you think he could be a donor? 
Nah, I sucked up all the insults
I took them all in stride,
I looked at each one earnestly
I said I’m sorry that he died.
I told them that the doc was young,
And often optimistic,
But in my mind I really thought,
Our actions were quite sadistic.

S. Huff, RN

*Thanks Bro, you're the bomb!
I don't usually go 3 weeks without a writing, and especially at Christmas. A bunch of stuff was going on at home to arrange a big trip overseas, is what I will say was the cause. Anyway,

We're almost about to groove over into the "new tower". I expect it will supply me with an abundance of inspiration over the early part of year 2010, as we settle in. We will be taking on the Surgical Service ICU patients, so that will be interesting, as we have only had to do that "cut and sew" recovery stuff, only once in a while. So, apparently, you can still teach an old dog (and his extended family) some new tricks, after all.

Now, on the virtual cusp of the ribbon cutting, the final Health Dept. licensing and so on, here is my latest endeavor, regarding the new Tower:

A Whizz, Is What It Is

It's a brand-new tower
With carpeted floors,
A closet for the Nurses
And locks on the doors,
Spacious waiting rooms deluxe
For John Q. Public and his crew,
Who gape with wonder and amazement
'Cause all the furniture is new.

There are a couple more bathrooms
With a mirror for viewing,
As I stand there and pee
I can watch what I'm doing,
Now, if that ain't modern progress
Just tell me what is?
Could there be a hidden camera
To record what I whizz?

The kitchen is tiny
The Nurse's break room is small,
It's cleverly hidden
Somewhere down the hall,
The Doctors have two rooms
And larger, of course,
Though we do all the lifting
They have all the force.

It’s a wonderful new building
A new system to boot,
Sister Euphemia is dancing
In a her new tower suit,
Each time she clicks her heels
The cash register is ringing,
While the angels on high
Harmonize their singing;
Hosanna, hosanna
Let’s open this new banana,
Break out the new Chapel
And the rose garden cabana,
While the CEO, (that good boy)
Is serving up the tea,
Hosanna, on my new tower
Catherine McAuley, set us free!


Wednesday, December 02, 2009

Someone, roughly my age, noted a strange similarity, in respect to, the Dick & Jane books of childhood, with that common starting line.........."See Spot; see Spot run". It was something about a dog that was probably smarter than D & J. The similarity in question, was about the other "See" which we unfortunately are accustomed to............C Diff. Thus was born a new, sickening poem.

C Diff

C Diff
C Diff run,
Saturating linen
Its flow is never done.

C Diff
Is certainly the worst,
Use lots of soap and water
Or your hands are cursed.

C Diff
Its cloying sour smell,
Clinging to your uniform
Like a perfume from Hell.

C Diff
Odor atoms in the air,
You scrubbed per protocol
But what about your hair?

C Diff
Cleaning is a hopeless endeavor,
Just take a whiff
It stays in your nose forever.

C Diff
Oh, I'd rather not,
I'd rather wallow
In a bucket of snot.

C Diff
A room, by yourself,
Piles of linen
Fall off the shelf,
Friends and visitors
Wear protective gowns,
They smile and say, "How are you"
And leave with crappy frowns.

C Diff
Endless liquid stool,
Flexi-Seal stat
It's the perfect tool,
Make sure you change the bag
Before it bursts its seams,
Or you will surely suffer
C Diff nightmare dreams.

C Diff
Stays around for several weeks,
The smell is overwhelming
The atmosphere; it reeks,
No perfume eradicators
Will annihilate the odor,
You need an air-evacuator
With a mondo-turbo motor,
To suck the fumes away
Before they ever reach your nose,
And should C Diff ever splash on you
You better find a hose.