Carnivorous Cleo

At last, a cute cuddly story about a kitten. Sure, it may seem I'm off track here, not writing about hospital nonsense, but kittens are people too.

Carnivorous Cleo

http://www.wnem.com/story/34050656/kitten-survives-car-crash-fends-for-self-before-being-found

Do animals need training?

I suppose they do,

Their mothers nurse them

Just like you,

But the human analogy

Should stop right there,

They have survival abilities

That hu-babes don't share.

I just read an article

About Cleo the cat,

A survivor of a car crash

Where a Chihuahua went splat,

Because he ran into the traffic

After the family car was crunched,

Little Cleo ran away

Without getting punched.

The people were hurt

And the Chihuahua was dead,

Thereby proving that cats

Are way smarter in the head,

Much more able to survive

A week or two on their own,

Cleo probably would have called

If she had her own phone.

The article seems written

In the usual silly way,

Regarding poor helpless animals

Needing rescue every day,

By cockamamy caregivers

Those of the human kind,

While a cat is a predator

A carnivorous hunter in kind.

Per the article:

She fended for herself

In unfamiliar country for two weeks,

Ludicrous, to propose

Cleo had no techniques,

To survive in the wild

Without human intervention,

Cleo wasn’t lost

Nor did she suffer apprehension.

Animals: don’t worry about the future

They survive in the Now,

Making the most of their environment

Without having a cow,

Although, these two cats I have now

On loan for three years,

Will cry like babies at the door

As if I cut off their ears.

No, Cleo was a survivor

Didn’t require a rescue,

Found a good barn to sleep in

In a bed of Fescue,

Plenty of mice to chase

Freedom from rules,

Yet, at the end of the story

Had to suffer more fools.

Genius

We have all heard about Betty Lou the nurse, who had a grand idea, created a sample, had peer review, found a manufacturer, got Angel Investor backing, and is now a bonafide gazillionaire, after selling their gadget to Google.

Me, I just get goofy ideas, give them funny names, and hopefully entertain a few hardworking others like myself.

Over the years I have discovered

Several new conditions,

But as a nurse, no one cares

They don't believe my renditions,

Big Pharma doesn't fund me

I get no University backing,

When I showed them my research

They sent me packing.

When the Internet came along

I figured, this is the place,

I can write up my theories

Without showing my face,

Someone might read it

And recognize my finding,

How brilliant my research is

Absolutely spellbinding.

Perhaps my new gadget

Will be the hottest next thing,

Then I can retire to Fiji

With my Pit Bull Mei-Ling.

- - - - - - - - - -
My "Copyrighted" Condition List:

1. Persistent Vegetative State (no, it's not Tennessee)
2. Circus Movement Brainwaves
3. Physician Index of Acceleration (PIA)
4. Ketchup Brain
5. Hypertension Deficit Disorder
6. Provocative Resting Test
7. Autonomic Reflection

ps.
Stay tuned for goofy gadgets like;
the Cardio Floppen Crappen, Sneezer Pleaser, and the,
Metered Dose Impaler.

Victor the Vector

I think most Nurses agree, that the floor in any hospital is teeming with every dangerous microorganism known to mankind. But it has to be the worst, in those stupid hospitals that have carpeting, particularly in patient-care areas.
So, I am appalled two ways: 1) Bringing any children or babies into the hospital for any reason. 2). Allowing those little punks to crawl, sit, play, and roll around, on the floor of the hospital, and their attendant adult doesn't care one way or the other. YUCK.

Little Victor, came with Grandma
To visit Momma on the ward,
Grandma doesn't pay attention
Little Victor is totally bored,
He's running in the hallways
And crawling on the floor,
He's a collector of bacteria
And has the highest score.

His Momma had some runny crap
Dripping off the bed,
The side-rails are contaminated
Now that crap is on his head,
He's the biggest C-Diff vector
In the whole entire land,
Though it’s probably not a terror plot
It seems incredibly well planned.

He will carry it to his preschool
And touch everything,
He'll share it with the other kids
During morning group sing,
He'll take it to the lunch room
And leave it on the food tray,
The bacteria couldn't be happier
“We’re C-Diff, that’s how we play”.

Little Victor the Vector
Couldn't be more efficient,
Spreading the bacteria
He’s a God, and omniscient,
And though those tiny germs
Know not that they exist,
Little Victor the Vector
Was on their bucket list.

One Beer with Meals

I have worked with a couple Physicians, who felt it was Ok and probably a good idea, to order a beer or wine with the meal tray, as an attempt to prevent alcohol withdrawal. Essentially, the conversation is in regards to persons who drink a fair amount on a daily basis; like the guy last night, who drinks 10 beers a day. I posed that question to Dr. X the other night, in respect to a person with a serious drinking history. He said, "No, not ever would he allow that for his patients". His rationale was to the effect, that this individual made a personal choice to abuse alcohol, and the Dr. could not in any way support this, calling it unethical. I mentioned Dr. Z, who is known to do the opposite. To me, it appeared that Dr. X, was co-mingling some personal beliefs, as opposed to a scientific data based approach. His method, should there be withdrawals, will be dosing the patient with whatever drugs are on the "Withdrawal (drug) Protocol". In other words, medications that will very likely cause more short term side-effects, that could possibly have been avoided, had Billy-Bob been allowed a beer with each meal. This is not all supposition, as the Dr. Z method (Beer/Wine) has proven successful on numerous occasions.


Doc, what do you think?
The subject of prescribing alcohol
During a hospital admission,
Would you allow it for your patient
Under any condition?
Some Doctors say, no
I wouldn't cater to that,
Regarding a self-acquired problem
And that's where I'm at.

But I think a double standard
Exists with that attitude,
Our patient's get addicted
To all kinds of things, Dude,
Like Morphine, Oxycontin
Fatty foods and Coffee,
We let them have those
Along with Grandma's best toffee.

I have a suspicion
Your ethical attitude,
Lies in personal beliefs
Not science, Dr. Dude,
Because we feed our fat patients
And prescribe Norco, like candy,
How is addiction to pain pills
Any different from Brandy?

I heard your argument
Against the alcohol approach,
If I was selecting a doctor
I would choose another coach,
One with a more generous
Perspective and view,
And a little bit older
With more experience than you.

Nutty Nurses

So many crazy, bipolar, demented, disoriented, damaged whacky people lately (the patient's I mean). I began to wonder, could this be contagious?

Senior citizen nurses
Why we get nutty?
Too many loopty'loo patients
Acting like Silly Putty,
Mimicking characters
From The Exorcist movie,
No wonder we retirees
Become demented, yet groovy.

Retired Nurses
Why we might become whacky,
We might have a patient
Infected with Coxsackie,
Or is crazy contagious?
I don't really know,
Like acquiring Whooping cough
At the motion-picture show.

Spasmodicus

Once the gross out theme gets rolling, I just can't stop.
"Twas the night after.............

'Twas the night of diarrhea

And all throughout the house,

Not a Nurse was seen breathing

It smelled worse than dead mouse,

The commode chairs spilled over

And streamed across the floor,

House-keeping refused

To take care of this chore.

I called Dr. Brown

And Suzi called Dr. Runni,

And each one of them laughed

Because they thought it was funny.

I told Dr. Brown

"You have earned payback

For sure",

The next time I get you coffee

I guarantee it won't be pure.

The next night an emissary

Of emesis came over,

To herald a pukefest

On the Cliffs of Dover

We used all the Zofran

Phenergan and Droperidol,

And when I phoned the doctor

He asked, "So, why did you call?"

Another round of threats

Regarding crap in his salad,

Had the good Professor Emesis

Singing my ballad,

Regarding pukus-diareus-spasmodica-loo

Oh, pray with me Brother

That it never happens to you.

Poisoned

This is a little like one of Clive Barkers horror stories, only it rhymes.
Also, I'm the Break-nurse, I'm just reporting what happened to Suzi and Billy-Bob.

Poisoned

She's crazy and screaming

And she's out of breath,

She beat up her heart

With Nicotine and Meth,

She's not confused

It's just her drugs talking,

Wild cursing and growling

Her toxic squawking.

Begging and bargaining

For food and water,

She failed the Swallow test

And now she's threatening slaughter,

She yelled, "I'm going home now"

Ya, I wish that I could let her,

But I know that won't happen

And this night will get no better.

She coughs up yucky mucus

And spits it at her Nurse,

Oh, how did she know

That I keep some in my purse?

Sweet memento's like that

Are the kinds of things I savor,

So, I blew her a kiss

And asked, what is the flavor?

We are her babysitters

At seventy dollars an hour,

And that flavor in question?

Is putrid and sour.

Like the Queen of the Damned

And Satan's child,

Open heart surgery

Made her wild;

Though, truth be told

She was like this before,

From the very first day

She came into the store.

She calls the men names

That rhyme with trucker,

I am her Nurse

And I feel like a sucker,

What she calls the women

Rhymes with itch,

If I had my way

I would drop her in a ditch.

Like that child possessed

In The Exorcist,

That's my patient tonight

We have to coexist,

She's screaming and wild

And out of control,

I'm fairly convinced

She tried to poison my soul.

And someday........

She might possibly go home

In one or two weeks,

Get back with her people

The meth-heads and freaks.

That Smell

There is no getting away from C-Diff......even if you are 20 feet away; the smell is awful, and yes, it can cause significant eye irritation. The other yucky feature, is that those crap atoms get stuck in the nose, and even after departing the hospital, you can still detect That Smell!


That Smell

Oh, that odor
What the Hell?
My eyes are burning
From that smell,
I can barely
Take a breath,
I blame C-Diff
And bowel death.

Though, this is normal
In this dive,
I just don't know
How we'll survive,
The next few hours
Exposed to this stink?
We'll be anaerobic
Is what I think.
_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

Furthermore, following the same theme:

Nostril Smells

Yes, I was there
With first-hand knowledge,
Although this wasn't covered
When I went to college,
How smells could linger
For hours, in one's nostril,
After rapid ejection
From yonder wastrel,
Currently residing
In room seventy-seven,
I had to be reminded
How Nursing was like heaven.

Now, why I didn't
Become an Attorney?
I had to pursue
An altruistic journey,
Where nostril smells
Doth keep on giving,
'Tis why we Nurses
Continue living.
_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

And lastly.......

Dreaming of Bedpans

I've been afraid to talk about it
In case it were true,
That breathing crap atoms
They could get inside of you.

I thought it rather curious
How later, when I was home,
I kept dreaming about bedpans
Made out of chrome,
I would lurch from that dream
And race to the potty,
Trying to launch a dead rat
Out of my body.

And that's why I'm afraid
To talk about it ever,
Thoughts are powerful motivators
They might launch an endeavor,
By several wayward molecules
That migrated to my colon,
Thereby causing me to worry
Why I'm bloated and swollen.
- - - -- - - - - -- - - - -
From the, "Wait, there's more" Department:

C-Diff Blues

Take a good whiff
And you'll know it's C-Diff........
That sour-sweet odor
Gets lodged in your nose,
You will wish that you carried
A special vacuum hose,
To suck up those vapors
Before they float in the air,
Instead, all those crap atoms
Hold tight to your hair.

C-Diff on your collar
Will make you scream and holler,
When you are home at the mirror
It can't be any clearer,
That you weren't as protected
Like you thought that you were,
C-Diff on your clothing
And all over your fur.

C-Diff is in your car
As it was on your shoes,
Yes, that crap is everywhere
Let us sing the C-Diff Blues.
_  _  _  _  _  _  _  _  _

From the, "Does it never end" Department:

Inner Pollution

C.Diff, C.Diff
Is liquid, not stiff,
It stinks to low heaven
Putrid and sour,
Bacteria so tiny
But they've got the power,
To conquer your world
Between here and the toilet,
Though, if you're in bed
Odds on, you will soil it.

C.Diff, C.Diff
Impossible to kill
Unless you jump off a cliff,
Or drink a gallon of bleach
Now, there's a solution,
A guaranteed fix
For all your inner pollution.

1991 0r 2016....Nothin' Different

We know a lot more, but have all the same issues

A High Stakes Game

We keep them here for days on end

And try to make their organs mend,

We attack their cells with mighty drugs

To try to kill all sorts of bugs,

That naturally were acquired here

This ain’t no place for the sick, I fear.

Pardon me, I was only rambling

About life and death, it’s just like gambling,

In a high stakes game for those that dare,

Who bet their lives in Critical care.

1991

Transition

Another ancient, unpublished one. The topic (death) is always a current issue, and how our industry and society deal with it.

Little Room for Hope

He suffered very long

From a well known rare disease

As he lay so still for many weeks and weeks,

There was little room for hope

And his family couldn’t cope

As his life ebbed slowly from a hundred leaks,

He had fifty different doctors

With a thousand interventions

Yet they couldn’t tame the nature of the beast,

His family suffered silently

To the depths of dark depression

Till their loved one packed his bags and headed east.

Now I know I’m very certain

That when it’s time to close the curtain

I wouldn’t want heroic measures for my mother,

Thus, the moral of this story

Is we gotta look at death

As a transition from just one place to another.

1995

Old writings, just as good

Every year, in the late Fall, I get back into sorting, collating, and supposedly, plan to publish. Today, I have sorted through about 100 old writings, and here is a good one for my pals in Neuro.

Lobotomize Me, Baby

Oh, Lobotomize me baby

I’ve got a mental pneumotension,

It’s a disease I never wanted

But it deserves an honorable mention,

I’ve got buzzing in my ears

Black spots before my eyes,

And now my doctor tells me

My cranium has flies,

They hatched from little larva

That were hiding in my brain,

Honey, please give me a sedative

Before I go insane.

1995

No Mo Thorax

No Belt Piece Prize

I had a pneumothorax

Yep, there it was,

Couldn't catch my breath,

It was because,

My pants here hanging

What a surprise,

That I had earned

The No Belt Piece Prize.

Of course, that is dumb

I blame my Uncle Mo,

He fell down on his chest

And he said, "No",

As in, "No mo thorax,

I didn't break a rib,

If you want to argue

You're outta my crib.

Leaving no more solutions

An Old Mo Thorax,

I suggest you clean it up

With good old Borax.

Legacy

Why my back hurts
On a daily basis,
Nothing to do with
Day off stasis,
No; here's a calculation
Regarding what I have lifted,
Mountains crumble
Tectonic plates have shifted,
But daily efforts
In hospital work,
Show a nurses' job
Is more taxing than a clerk.

I calculated
Thirty plus years,
How much weight
Would put you to tears,
On a year, those days
One hundred fifty and all,
Five hundred pounds
Per shift, not small.

And then, that is tallied
An enormous whole lot,
One fifty x thirty
Times five hundred and snot,
To a tune of two million
Two hundred fifty odd pounds,
Wrap your mind around that
And you will say, ZOUNDS!

That is one thousand
One hundred and twenty five tons,
A huge measure of hamburger
Tomatoes and buns,
Hauled from the farm
Way down in Modesto,
But I am not talking
Basil and pesto.

My spine discs are thinner
Scoliosis is worse,
But I am a Nurse
And that is our curse,
I'm not complaining
Just stating a fact,
If this was a stage play
I assure, it's the last act.

Yet, we soldier on
Like other service members,
Standing tall for all of those
Who missed their Septembers
Knowing they would have
Fought on like we do,
When the job is your legacy
Describing me, defining you.

Narcan Nonsense

I read an article recently that looked at one of the issues involved with overdose of narcotics; that being, premature death. At this writing, there is definitely a major problem in the USA (and the world) regarding the excessive use of analgesic substances. The author postulated that if persons known to be users of narcotics were given take-home Naloxone (Narcan) when they left the Emergency Room, this action might reduce unintentional death. To me, this seems like nonsense.

It is one thing to encourage people who are allergic to stuff like peanut butter, bee stings, and melon, to have on hand an Epinephrine injector, which can help to counteract anaphylaxis. In general, people who know about their allergy, logically and actively, attempt to avoid the substance they are sensitive to.

In contrast, when considering a narcotic overdose, we are talking about people who are intentional users. Whether they are addicted or not, is not the point; it is an illogical solution. First of all, who is going to administer it? Imagine, I’ve just taken a little too much Oxycontin, and drifted off to a pleasant dreamy state; am I going to wake up and say, “Gosh, I think I have overdosed…….where in the heck is my Narcan nasal spray?” Second, if I am addicted to narcotics, and I have an antidote on hand, perhaps I will be thinking that I can get away with taking an extra pill or two, because I have an antidote in the kitchen. Narcan, and most other antagonist / antidotes, are best left in the trained hands of health professionals.

Would the author also propose that every person who is prescribed a beta-blocker, be given Glucagon for home use, in case of overdose? Should we offer Praxbind for every user of Pradaxa, or Digibind, for those Digoxin prescribers? Of course not!

The answer is education, not medication. Whether one is addicted to something, or merely needs to take some kind of life-saving chemical, there always exists the chance of overdose. But to hand out an antidote, to every bloke out there, is just nonsense; in this case, Narcan Nonsense.

Narcan in the bathroom
For every woman and man,
Addicted to opiods
Some think, that's a plan,
For the avoidance of death
Regarding drug overdose,
Is this a sound solution?
It doesn't even come close.

Now, suppose you have an allergy
To peanut butter or a bee sting,
You actively avoid
Ever getting near this thing,
And it makes good sense
To carry an Epipen,
For that rare, but deadly exposure
You'll need an antidote then.

Contrast, the narco addiction
Some like to call it a disease,
Brain chemistry screwed up
You have pain when you sneeze,
Or a hundred different reasons
Intentional or not,
Keep the antidote on hand?
You've been smoking too much Pot.

I take a couple pills
To regulate my heart,
If I take too much
The rhythm comes apart,
Why shouldn’t I
Have some antidote?
A sensible doctor
Would never cast that vote;
Because………
The average consumer
Doesn’t know jack,
About overdose
Or heart attack,
Can barely administer
A basic eye drop,
Gets confused
When ordering at IHOP.

Too many ways
To get it wrong,
Handing out antidotes
To the public throng,
The better alternative
Is the medical approach,
Emergency responders
In the Paramedic coach.

Power Outage

When the hot topic word is "transparency" in respect to how businesses operate in the local and greater community, it is odd when an organization manages to achieve local media silence.

When Ebola showed up

Man, we got in the news,

To prove to the world

We were the place, check the views,

How we offer the best 

That branding can buy,

With moon-suits and bleach

And some good looking guy.

when the power shut down

there was nary a peep,

like the public image guys

were in a deep sleep,

and the local news outlets

ho-hummed during brunch,

but if it happened at the Arena

Friend, I have a hunch.......

That 32 Journalists

From every news station,

Would be salivating

To perform an oration,

How they got the news first

Because that's how they brag,

If you are second or third, baby

You're in a wet paper bag,

Fighting it out

To get a pink-slip warning,

To be the best reporter

You start at four in the morning.

How does a business

Suppress news in a community,

As if writing their own rules

With benevolent impunity,

We're a non-profit they say

The good of humanity, is our cupcake,

But really, if the power goes out

Isn't there more at stake?

Pretend your Momma needs a surgery

And the doctors use power tools, right?

Did they tell anyone

Why the power went out that night?

Was it shared with the public

Like the "whale shark rescue"commercial?

Quite frankly, there was a blatant silence

I know that doesn't play as well as an infomercial.

If the public was aware

Regarding the little foibles 

Of operating an old hospital facility,

If they knew about all of the steps taken

How we repair, replace and engineer with agility,

Perhaps there would be a shared

Sense of ownership and pride,

How ye olde neighborhood hospital

Was in it, for the long community ride.

But, since Big Brother took over

Millions are spent on the brand,

It's about acquisitions 

And how they expand,

To co-partner, and outsource

And run a very tight and lean ship,

While big Captain Bobolink

Has a tight grip on his gold plated whip.

Media silence

In this environment of corporate transparency,

Is clearly an outright

Anachronistic aberrancy,

When you are advertising and branding

Regarding all those touchy feely good deeds,

You better tell the public all about

The power outage, leaky pipes, the blown boiler,

And the weeds.

High Speed Train to Heaven

In general, in the year of Our Trump of 2017, modern children at age 8, are pretty much past the fairy-tale believing stage; unless of course, there is some heavy duty homey religion going on.

Grandpa's going to Jesus
That's what Auntie said,
To eight year old Jeffrey
If Grandpa gets dead,
She continued on further
Five minutes or more,
But his ears had shut down
Like a hard slamming door.

I was over in the corner
Trapped, I did feel,
It might be rude if I split
In the midst of her spiel,
Telling such a grand story
That rivalled the Brothers Grimm,
I wondered, should I clap
Or launch into a hymn?

This eight year old Jeffrey
Was wise and mature,
He seemed to understand death
Though he wasn't too sure,
If Grandpa was just resting
Would he rally in the morning?
When nothing more can be done
In of itself, that's the warning.

Jeffreys attention
Sparked brightly when I spoke,
Regarding all the machines
Without the fire and smoke,
Or the legions of angels
On the head of a pin,
I just talked about Grandpa
And the state he was in.

Maybe he'll get better?
Well, Auntie mentioned a miracle,
Indeed, that would be so
Beyond anything empirical,
Because total organ failure
Leaves little to the imagination,
Yes, his high-speed train to heaven
May have already, left the station.

Powerdown

If you work in a facility, that had its beginnings 80+ years ago, you know for sure, there's a bunch of old infrastructure, that has not yet been updated. The guys just can't get to it, because all the high tech stuff needs all the attention (to keep the dollars coming in). We all have been informed, that if there is a "brief" interruption in electricity, the generators will automatically cycle, and there will be power available at the red power outlets. But what if the generators, don't get the message?


We lost power
Just the other night,
Think, old-building blues
And lordy, what a fright,
Because for 10 long minutes
We had no juice,
Some kind of circuit breaker
Had busted loose.

But that's not all
It was really worse,
The emergency red plugs
Felt the curse,
And that shouldn't happen
Because generator power,
Should automatically trigger
For a minute, or an hour.

Meaning, that old circuit
Was isolated, dear friend,
The generators didn't know
There was no power at our end,
And when it returned
Without any intervention,
The engineers couldn't find
The cause of disconnection.

Well, that was cool
Just a little fluke,
No one knew why
If they had, they would puke,
Because three days later
The system REALLY crashed,
Five hours without power
New records were smashed.

A hospital without power
None to be found,
All kinds of devices
Fall to the ground,
Really important things
Rely on electricity,
The lack thereof
Causes spasticity.

All the bosses came running
Who run the joint,
Offering solutions
Wondering where to point,
Knowing that the blame
Would soon need a home,
Why everyone started
Shining their chrome.

One of the geniuses
Posed this opinion,
Let's fixed it with something
Right here in our dominion,
Replace that ancient breaker
With that old one in the box,
Bought back in the days
Of wind up clocks.

Yep, saving every nickel
Down at ground zero,
Make the cheapest suggestion
And you'll be the hero,
Don't look to the future
Make the easy fix now,
It's sure to work for a while
If it doesn't, disavow.

Good thing our Engineers
Are wiser than most,
Ask them, "How smart?"
And surely they will boast,
But still, in the end
They know redundancy rules,
Buy the biggest damn breaker
A whole box of them, fools!

The Gift of Giving

Be a bedside nurse long enough, and you too, will experience the gift of giving. That special patient who loves to share some precious body fluids with anyone dumb enough to come into close proximity. Be warned and be ready, kids.

I saved my BM
Just for you,
I bestow such gifts
Where gifts are due,
Because you are such
A kind caregiver,
I included a chunk
Of my dead liver.

I saved some vomit
For my best nurse,
A sweet memento
She can carry in her purse,
And as a bonus
An awesome booger,
On the lunch tray
With a packet of sugar.

I'm holding some sputum
For Dr. Astute,
When he gets near
I'll spray it on his suit,
His ten thousand dollar
Jacket from Brooks,
Just to see his precious
Hateful looks.

Yep, I am a gifter
I do it, because I care,
If you'll come a little closer
I'd love to touch your hair,
Just after I've scratched
That pustule on my arm,
A special gift for you
It's just part of my charm.

Power Break

I've worked in healthcare for 38 years now (RT & RN), and all the same dynamics are at play. Sure, technology changed, policy's and procedures were revised, diseases are better understood, and workplace interactions have improved between disciplines. What is still present, are all of the tricky interpersonal, colleague to colleague interactions. The foremost question (and answer) one needs to have in their head at all times, is; "Who do I trust?"

Lazy Nurse 16
Claims, he didn’t get a break,
When I asked the dude
He gave his a head a shake,
Seemingly saying, he had it covered
Then I’m called on the carpet
When Charge Nurse discovered,
That Lazy Nurse 16
Stated he worked all night,
Unable to stop
No one noticed his blight,
How he worked his butt off
(Except for that hour);
When I saw him on his cell phone
Attending to a higher power.