Algorhythms

Here at Sister Euphemia's place (and perhaps your joint too), we are forced to participate in an employee training and education package called, "My Journey". The name alone makes me want to hurl, because it reminds me of all the "iSomething" naming of things in the future-of-now, Apple iPod-isms. We've gone from "i" to "my". It is totally pathetic. Anyway, this rant is about more superior-sounding lingo jingo, in the renaming of the same old concepts. Just say to yourself, Body Handling Algorhythm; I had to read all about it last night as I was traversing My Journey, for my annual body mechanics reeducation. Hospitals and other entities, think that if they just educate us about protecting our backs, then that will save us from debilitating injuries in the future. Sure, there is some sense to that, but you and I know, what is killing us is the fact that 70% of our clients are now morbidly obese, and half of our Nurses are over the age of 45. We are already injured (and somehow still working)... and that's the other rant I'm always harping on.

Anyway, back to the topic of Jargon.

Body Handling Algorhythms

Old methods, by a newer name,

Quasi superior importance

In the technical jargon game,

21^st century scholars

Doing rewrites on concepts and theories,

To appeal to a new younger audience

Repackaged as classes in series.

Knowledge expands

As new stuff is discovered,

Old stapled handouts

Are bound up and covered,

Add a couple fresh ideas

Publish, package and sell,

Force the workers to read it

Or consider leaving the cartel.

8/30/16

Hypoxic U-Toxic

At our Medical ICU at least 75% of admissions are designated as suffering from Sepsis. One of the issues; 50% of those will have a Toxicology screen showing evidence of Methamphetamine, with some easy going THC (marijuana). I guess the two of those, are the Yin-yang of the local street-drug supply. The end result, is that the dude's daily substance abuse issues, will severely impact the care delivered, and outcome of survival.

Hypoxic psychosis
Is the cause
Of his neurosis,
Hypercapnic
Overweight and fifty,
Says, he doesn't like C-PAP
Isn't that nifty?

Somnolent, unresponsive
In the Lazy-boy chair,
The wife can't awaken him
Get the Paramedics there,
Haul him to the hospital
On the megaton rig,
Sometimes the ambulance
Isn't even that big.

Now, it's up to us to save him
Then do it over, in six weeks,
He won't wear the C-PAP
'Cuz it blows up his cheeks,
And dries out his eyes;
Claims he can't sleep,
More likely it's the "Meth";
Is the logical leap.

His U-tox is positive
At every admission,
Methamphetamine and opiates
Affecting his cognition,
Morbidly obese
Untreated hypertension,
Weight, one-eighty kilo's
An honorable mention.

He will cuss at the doctors
And fight with the nurses,
His wife will give the stink-eye
While mumbling gypsy curses,
Then finally, when his brain clears
He pulls the breathing tube out,
Escapes the ICU;
He'll return, there is no doubt.

Uh oh, what's that on the X-ray?

No, this is not something that recently happened at work. However, the facts are out there; tools are sometimes (rarely) left behind in a surgical wound, and folks definitely do swallow ridiculous items.

Oh, someone left scissors
In Billy-Bob's gut,
They thought at the time
It will pass from his butt,
And about three weeks later
As they waited to collect them,
Scissors and a Rolex
Passed out of his rectum.

Have stranger things happened?
Oh, undoubtedly so,
Folks swallow strange things
To impress their new beau,
Like bedsprings and batteries
And cigarette lighters,
Cell-phones and coins
After drinking all-nighters,
Only to wonder
About a ringing in her gut,
She says, "I'll answer it later"
When it exits my butt.

One might consider this
The original sin,
Be it surgery, or stupidity
Be careful what goes in,
And use caution, young fellow
On the potty, don't push,
'Cuz, if you swallowed razor blades
They will slice-up your tush.