Tuesday, October 29, 2013



This is hard, hard work we do
Sometimes it bothers me tomorrow,
When yesterday’s catastrophe
Brings on hidden reams of sorrow,
By many other names,
Is a difficult tunnel to walk thru
The most treacherous of games.

To just say that we had a bad night yesterday, is a gross understatement. We had a wild and hairy, completely unsafe three hour period, where patient’s could have died, because we were woefully understaffed. There were three nurses, covering six patients. Sounds Ok, right?

  1. One had a continuous groin bleed. (1:1)
  2. One was post Cerebral Angiogram and he was completely bonkers, requiring four other persons to hold him down for safety reasons (requiring a Code Gray response = out of control). 4:1
  3. One was a General Anesthesia recovery (supposed to be a 1:1, for at least 30 minutes)
  4. One was a guy with the early signs of Cardiogenic Shock, and I was doing the Femoral sheath-pull, and he had received Plavix, Aspirin, Heparin and had an Integrilin drip. 1:1

But wait, you may notice that I mentioned earlier that we were only 3 nurses. There’s more to say, but why bother!

In the past week, each one of us has had “the worst day ever” kind of feeling. But we’re the healthy ones; the patient’s suffer too, when we don’t have the staff to give them the high-quality attention that they need.

Revision: Those were three highly experienced, GREAT Nurses.

Little Yellow Bus

I can barely
The daily frustration
Regarding our fate,
Attempting to satisfy
The demands of our work,
Where our leaders remove
Any kind of a perk.

To us, a perk would be
The right number of nurses,
Supportive managers
Who don't focus on the purses,
In such a manner of ways
As to believe our overtime,
We don't stay late on a whim
But we're punished for the crime.

Just play nurse for a day
And do exactly what we do,
Perform as fast as the best of us
Just to get another view,
Watch six patients with three nurses
At a moment, 4 one-to-ones,
Do the numbers, little Miss Management
When Mr. Danger, is loading the guns.

One of them a MAC Recovery
One of them was bleeding,
One of them was a sheath-pull
And one confused and needing,
Two others that were stable
But still belong to us,
This was not safe patient care
On the little yellow bus.

And tomorrow, rest assured
The question posed at first,
Why did you stay so late, girls
Our budget almost burst.




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