In Nursing, when you go to work somewhere new, sooner or later you will be expected to be "Relief Charge Nurse" for your particular day/night of work. It's a dirty job, but somebody has to do it. Usually the established format is that you will receive some sort of "orientation", most likely with one of the other "experienced" charge-nurse persons. Once in a while, an error occurs in the "usual plan" and you might be thrust into the "first night as Charge-Nurse" quite unexpectedly.

In my case, everyone I worked with that fateful night, just refused to believe that I was not supposed to be assigned to Charge, yet. So I figured, "what the hey", they might have a different opinion when the dust settles. Naturally, 3 quiet hours passed and then all hell broke loose. The survivors will talk of this night for years to come.............

Charge


That was interesting
To say the least,
I entered as a lamb
And departed as a beast.

Once again
I was saved by my peers,
With them by my side
I didn't age years,
And surely, any other nurse
Would have been reduced to shrieking,
Gone catatonic
Never again speaking,
But with the help of my comrades
I limped through a disaster,
With their mighty efforts
The night passed much faster.

It was a classic example
Of a courtesy appointment,
And the word on the street is.......
I've had my anointment.

Fibril_late;
10/30/08

Don't take offense when I humor religion, ok? Let me shoulder the entire karmic debt. If you get angry, that isn't my fault.

Now let's just consider for a moment: Doesn't Jehovah deserve to have a week off now and then, to recharge his batteries (or whatever it is that he runs on)? Well, I think so. The big boss in the sky, has a heck of a lot on his plate, and deserves every little bit of peace and quiet that he can sneak in. So, I authorize at least a week off. Just call it a "prior-auth".

Jehovah On Vacation


Jesus is so frickin ' busy
Doing good works, far away,
And of course, he has the power of creation
At his fingertips, they generally say,
But surely this man of the robe
Needs to rest, like that Saturday in the cave,
He may be the ultimate healer
But frankly, he isn't our slave.

And I know for a fact he was here just last week
Saving Popeye, after a bad fight with Bluto,
Olive-Oil was there at his bedside
With her seeing-eye dog, he's named Pluto,
Mr. Whimpy came around with his hamburgers
Flirting with the Nurses; (that Casanova),
And who should he bump into in the hallway
None other, than our good Lord, Jehovah!
He'd dropped in, to have a parlay with Popeye
Bringing a case of special spinach from his garden,
He'd responded to some prayers within our chapel
Figuring someone was in need of a pardon,
And the housekeeper overheard (as he dusted)
That Jehovah planned vacation next week,
So if you should die in the next 7 days
You'll take off from this planet in a streak.

No lingering around on a respirator
No response to a shock to your heart,
When Jesus is off on vacation
It's pretty damn easy to depart,
Slicker than a whistle, slippery as an eel
Faster than you say whoops-a-daisy,
And if you're thinking, that Jesus is watching
"Good Lord", he'd exclaim, "you are crazy"!

Fibril_late;
10/30/08

If you would look at previous posts around October 7, 8 & 9, I was writing about death and families, and Aunt Mary. There was some religion thrown in also, and this piece is just a little bit of unfinished business, inspired by that previous happening.

The Crux of Departure

CPR times 90 minutes
A heartbeat, but desperately slow,
In reality, it was the end of her life
And it was time for Aunt Mary to go,
And I'm telling you, Jesus was there that day
Hell, you could hear the dude coming,
He responded to a summons by his Angels
Off-key, with their death-march humming.

As she peered down that long empty tunnel
His light illuminating, all she could see,
She had long heard his voice in a whisper
"Aunt Mary, come along with me",
But the family at bedside thought otherwise
Claiming, "We have a contract, to grieve"
Halting the process of her departure
Like a magician with tricks up his sleeve.

Yes, the crux of departure, most often
Is prolonged by a family in distress,
The patient in question is dying
While the kin are an emotional mess,
Some want to revel in each torturous breath
As if bystander suffering should be scored,
While the long endured agony of the victim
Is conveniently denied and ignored.

"God will save her", they say, "It is written"
To have faith in the Lord, our belief,
They previously disallowed any medicines
And now they are reveling in grief,
Harboring the idea that Aunt Mary is alive
As proof of her stalwart independence,
Proclaiming each blink of an eyelid
Is proof that the Lord, is in attendance.

After 30 long years of experience
I have opinions derived from observations,
I've seen hundreds of people pass on
From so many different congregations,
And those people who experience the most difficulty
Accepting the end days of life,
Are the most basic of Fundamental Christians
Who take the bible as their mistress and wife.

Fibril_late;
10/30/08

It's happening to a lot of us Nurse baby-boomers; we're providing care to a lot of 50 year-olds with horrendous health problems (and counting our blessings). And then in one short week, I provide care for a couple of really-looking-healthy guys younger than me, and I realize once again, that life is just a crap-shoot. We don't have a clue what is lurking around the next curve in the road!

Rattlebrained

A glioblastoma and a dermoid cyst
I'm telling you, brother
I would rather have missed,
These cerebral events
Inside of my head,
It's anybody's guess
How soon I'll be dead.

He was fifty-one
And the other fifty-two,
No other health problems
And I'm telling you,
As an older senior nurse
I was measuring my well-being,
Against these two guys
I couldn't believe what I was seeing.

Twenty-five years ago
When I left nursing school,
I was just about thirty
And no longer a fool,
And I think that's about average
From later observations,
Rattlebrained for 3 decades
In many derivations.

The next twenty years
Are to establish your brand,
By fifty you'll be good
And carefully planned,
So that the next half of life
Will unfold, as you thought,
After all you invested
You can see what you bought.

While I'm looking at these guys
I'm thinking, "Holy crap!",
They look healthier than me
And I realize the trap,
That all of us fall into
Sooner or later,
If you haven't met Fate
Watch out; you might date her.

Fibril_late;
10/21/08

A life is saved, the victim "comes around" and..............voila', you discover they are a classic p.i.a.
Being in the hospital, is just Part "A" of their daily drama performance. One moment they're on the phone, bragging about how they almost died (with a dramatic sob thrown in), the next moment, they're complaining that a favorite TV show isn't on, "here in this place I got moved to, and can't ya page somebody to fixit". And then there is that central line the Surgeon placed an hour ago, when the systolic blood pressure was 47/22, and this Drama Maven, will probably dislodge it in the midst of some hissy-fit!

Sometimes a 12-hour shift can seem like 3 frickin' days.

Harp and Moan

I've talked about this type before
How caring for them, is such a chore,
Drama mavens, in their own right
Their passion play is out of sight.

How they harp and moan
With a waxing whimper,
Bring attention to their cause
With a preen and simper,
Boast or cry
Whatever suits them best,
It's your compassionate attention
They like to test.

At the limit of your tolerance
They will claim offense,
Accusing you of insult
With a phony pretense,
They might demand to see your boss
Or spit at you and curse,
And like a self-fulfilling prophecy
You hate to be their nurse.


Fibril_late;
10/17/08
________________________
Big Problems

The bigger they are
The wimpier they seem,
When they’re 5’2’’
And wide of beam,
Wailing and fussing
Way out of proportion,
Maximizing complaints
Beyond all distortion.

The tiniest problems
Will initiate a grumble,
Magnanimous moaners
They hardly are humble,
Boiling over with an outburst
Of evil dispensation,
Accusing their nurse
Of prejudicial intonation.

They want a Supervisor
To reprimand that horrid nurse,
Claiming insults were flung
And her caregiver cursed,
They’ll say, “My nurse had no compassion
And I’ll write it in a letter,
I know the CEO…………….
I guarantee, that he’ll get her”.

Oh, the biggest of problems
Have little to do with sickness,
With personality disorders
They manifest with a quickness,
Irritating as hell
Some people vex and annoy,
Virtual walking inflictions
Always ready to deploy.

Fibril_late;10/17/08

Being sleepy has nothing to do with getting old. Just ask a veteran worker of the night-shift. This morning, after working a 12 hour easy shift, I could barely stay awake to drive my sort-of-short 15 mile trip home. OK, it is tough to deal with the customary morning freeway slowdown and the blazing sun at eye level, but come on, why can't I stay awake?

Let's do the instrument checklist:
Radio blasting, window rolled down, moon-roof open, slap my face briskly, scream, bite my finger.........no, that's not working..............what I really need is a 100th second mind drift, didn't notice the abrupt slowdown, brake-slamming-almost-rear-ended the guy in front of me, holy-crap!!! moment, to blast 17 micrograms of adrenaline, mainlined into my sinus-node, precipitating a burst of atrial tachycardia and HOOYAH, I'm AWAKE!
A half a minute later, I'm drowsy again. Go figure!

Can't Stay Awake

It's amazing how sleepy I am
Like I've been snacking on drug-enhanced Spam,
At some point in its creation
There was chloral hydrate migration,
And voila', I'm the stuporous man.

I'm astounded that I can't stay awake
Even during a California earthquake,
Heck, I noticed when I'm driving
It seems that sleep is arriving,
Perhaps being on the road is a mistake.

Yet when I get home, I awaken
It might be the smell of the bacon,
And when I finally lie down
I'm an insomniac clown,
I need a potion for sleep, I'm not fakin'!

No one believes me, I'm sure,
Otherwise, I might find a cure,
There is a lot here, at stake
To prove my drowsy is no fake,
And my reputation is truthful and pure.

I called upon an expert of sleep
But then I fired him, that dude was a creep,
He charged by the hour
To some exponential power,
He dug a hole in my bank account, deep.

Now I'm panhandling, at the corner of Ambien and 3rd
Can you spare me a dollar, I wonder if you heard,
My old friends run the gap
Because I look like crap,
And I'm snoring before I chance to hear a word.

Fibril_late;
10/14/08

I shudder to consider the ramifications of this; in fact, if I had not been there as a witness, thus being one of several witnesses, I would doubt the veracity of the story.

Picture this:

A busy hospital in a busy city. Beds are at a premium; patients are stacking up in the ED, like planes at O'Hare in Chicago, in the midst of a "Nor'wester" blizzard. The call from "Admitting" comes in at 0500, regarding patient in critical-care bed #A, that they may transfer to Floor bed #D. The patient in bed #A is a female, isolated for MRSA. The available bed #D, is in a room with a male patient and he is colonized / isolated for a strain of klebsiella.

Lordy be! What in the tarnation is goin' on?!? (This is where we collectively said, "Duh, why can't they see what is wrong with this picture?") The most shocking thing is this: This is Sister Euphemia's place!

Luckily, the nurse for Ms. MRSA, put her feet down, chomped the bit, blew a gasket, raised hell, and said, NO!
So the transfer fell out of favor........

Naturally to me, the whole thing had a humorous side to it:

Euphemia's Clinic

We're totally integrated
No longer segregated,
Men and women united
And finally cohabitated,
Where even infections
From different families,
Can bed to bed comingle
Like pear and apple trees.

Fibril_late;
10/9/08

Regarding the songs of death.

Singing Harmony

You were right
But I wasn't wrong,
We two, were humming harmony
In the death-prediction song.

The lyrics of this song
Are expressed in many ways,
Sometimes shreiked like a bloody banshee
Or whispered a fortnights day.

Hundreds of different cultures
With rituals and such,
Many convoluted expressions
I don't understand very much,
That's why I like to hide in the corner
Mumbling and humming a tune,
Praying the shreiking and wailing
From that family will end pretty soon.

Fibril_late;
10/9/08

Being present at the time of many deaths, one acquires a sense of the impending moment of departure..............

Death is Coming

The qualified, competent, experienced Nurse
Knows when death is approaching the bend,
We can feel the subtle vibrations
We sense where the cord will end.

It comes after thousands of hours
With practice, then mastery of skill,
Hanging around in the shadows
Close to the edge of Boot Hill.

Gleaned from years of observation
Clues of impending death,
Delicate variations
Of the heart beat and the breath;
Changes of demeanor
At times, a peaceful calm,
After weeks of fretful anxiety
Now a measurement of balm.

Rarely, are we caught off guard
It takes significant subterfuge and guile,
Though occasionally the suicide player
Goes out with a bang and a smile,
Otherwise we are the experts
Judgment Day deliverers of care,
Worry not, patrons of pathos
Upon departure, a Nurse will be there.

Fibril_late;
10/9/08

I was inspired to some degree by one of those end-of-life for "Aunt Mary" dilemma's, that cross our threshold frequently.

If only John Q. Public would get a clue: Look, when you're over 50, you have the "big-three" of CAD, Diabetes and HTN, and you're in piss-poor every-day health, and then you drop over dead, CPR x 1 hour, portends no more than a 1% likely-hood of survival. And even then, that's probably a very generous outlook. But, during that aggressive hour of resuscitation (and just why?!? did it last that long?) you do receive a boatload of powerful chemicals that just might.........initiate some last-ditch electrical activity in your heart. Well, it's tough for a physician to stand around and wait for the heart to stop (again). So, put Aunt Mary on a respirator and treat her as though she has more than a snowballs chance in Hell to survive. Believe me, even the all-powerful Sister Euphemia can't intercede at this point.

The only hope is that JESUS, will intercede, and raise the dead.

Frankly, I feel kind of sorry for that dude. There he was, hanging around in the ER, with his arms outspread to hug and welcome Aunt Mary, into his heavenly fold. And then, damn, there is that freakin' strong epinephrine stuff coursing in her nearly dead veins, and there is nothin' he can do about it! This is a moral dilemma for Jesus. He and Aunt Mary had this pact, that if she were to ever have a cardiac arrest, he would be there at a moments notice, to usher her to the other side. Now, it's as though she is being held back by some puny little humans, and it is outside of his job description to kill her, to be able to keep her, so to speak!?!

Now he is definitely between a pillar of salt and the dead sea. We caregivers are just following directions. We and the doctors have that Hippocratic Oath to "do no harm". So, we forge ahead and follow the family wishes (no matter how bizarre), because Aunt Mary, no longer can speak for herself. By this time, Jesus has split, and just maybe, he has told one of his groupies to hang around the hospital room, and keep him posted with daily updates. However, once Jesus takes off for other more pressing demands, that is when the Grim Reaper starts hanging around. Who knows what his intentions are?

And that's how I got here:

The Work of Jesus

I'm ever more astonished
At the work, Jesus is expected to do,
Forecasting that he will heal
When really, death is due.

Take this patient in the corner
As example number one,
Her heart, her lungs and kidneys
Were very nearly done,
When a cardiac arrest
Knocked her to the floor,
Giving her tired soul a chance
To slip right out the door.

She had CPR
For well beyond an hour,
Where the medical team performed
Everything within their power,
But they finally reached consensus
That there was nothing more to do,
When lo and behold, her heartbeat
Went from straight-line to forty-two.

Now she’s grazing in our unit
Life-supported to the nines,
Seven vasopressors
And thirteen central lines,
An ET tube, an NG sump
And the Foley-Temp-Deluxe,
And while it seems we're doing everything
She's a DNR, oh shucks.

We finally get to Jesus
His role in this whole caper,
The family expects a miracle
According to the paper,
Written by some disciple
Two centuries post-resurrection,
How Jesus will raise the dead again
Like some cosmic lottery selection.

There are just too many people
Who need that Lazarus link,
Jesus can't heal every one
So do not even think,
That your sweet old Aunt Jemima
Is on the Jesus list today,
She tried to depart a week ago
Till epinephrine, made her stay.

The truth regarding dear old auntie
Is that she'll never get restarted,
Her body is here, and her brain is dead
While her soul has already departed,
The resident of this ICU bed
Could be likened to an empty shell,
Auntie is firmly ensconced in heaven
While her body remains here in Hell.











Fibril_late;
10/7/08

The level of professionalism is daunting where I work, and how I suffer through it, I do not know.
And now enjoy Part - 2, "Tear Drop Tissues".


Professional

She's a professional practice
Committee nurse,
She keeps all the bylaws
In her purse,
When it's time to practice
She's the go-to lady,
She knows what's right
And what is shady.

Don't even try to pull
The wool upon her eyes,
Others have attempted
Perhaps you heard their plaintive cries,
Because the PPC nurse
Surely, never wavers,
Sticking to the rules
Is the sum-total of her flavors.

She's a pillar of our community
The lightbulb of our lamp,
Like that famous Disney movie
She's the lady and I'm the tramp,
I get a biscuit now and then
If I properly fetch and heel,
Of course, she's happier than snot
If I also bow and kneel.

Fibril_late;
10/5/08
_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

Tear-Drop Tissues

When I grow up
I want to be,
A Confessional Practice
Nurse, you see;
Everyone will tell me
About their "issues",
And I'll make a buck
Selling tear-drop tissues.

As Nursing is predominantly
A female career,
(Men, don't be insulted -
Remember, I'm a peer),
And I'm covering the topic
Of the female outlook,
It reads like the typical
Romance book;
You know, "she said, blah"
And, "she, responded",
And before you knew
The two had bonded,
Taking down Mary
With a tattletale rumor,
Giggling whispers
Like schoolyard humor.

That's where the Confessional
Practice Nurse,
Pulls the teardrop tissues
From her purse,
Because, Mary the wronged
Is seeking restitution,
She's jumping up and down
Regarding workplace persecution,
And if she's not heard
She'll take the quitters route,
Find a lawyer and file
A whistle-blower suit.

As the Confessional Practice
Purveyor of truth,
It's my responsibility
To rectify the uncouth,
Behaviors and insults
And the backyard rumors,
Pluck those suckers out
Like a malignant tumor,
Then I'll offer a penance
To the goddess of nursing,
To reverse the ill effects
Of 14 females cursing,
Each other, for the petty
Day to day imperfections,
As the Confessional Practice Nurse
I'll define new directions,
For all persons and peons
Who populate this plane,
And if you don't like that
You can hop the next train.

Fibril_late;
10/6/08

I'm in that altered reality called, "worked all night, and still awake". As a result my story is all over the board, but seems to hit some high points regarding cancer, old age, Sister Euphemia, bookies and good surgeons.

Neoplasm Necromancer What could I say about a person Who seemed like a breeding ground for cancer, Was it a case of living too long Or was she a neoplasm necromancer? First, she had cancer of the colon And then there was cancer of the breast, Followed by cancer of the stomach The intestine and all of the rest. For some people, it's seen as a wake-up call And for others, you could call it endurance, But she's 78 and two surgeries later I'm wondering, the name of her insurance. At Sister Euphemia's repair shop No customers are ever turned away, Age is not a factor for dismissal You can get an overhaul and a pretty bouquet, And we'll talk about payments tomorrow If we don't operate right now, you'll be dead, In terms of mortality and morbidity It's 1000-to-1 odds, on your head. The bookies on Broadway are happy After losing their shirts on the Kings, They've been scrambling to cover their losses By wagering on Beijing's gold rings, Now whether or not that was lucrative Is hardly a fact in this story, It's just an aside, that they'll bet on who died If you live, Ms. Euphemia, gets the glory. You can't argue with her spirit And you can't knock her goodness Euphemia, has a racquet for healing, In this sleepy old town Where the Guvnor gets a frown, Health-care is the game that she's dealing, Her dice might be loaded And the cards surely marked The bookies complain, "there are rumors", But the odds seems so favorable For no chance of survival For someone, who is chock full of tumors. The jury is still out Though the surgeons did their work After seven long hours on the table, How the client survives Like a cat with nine lives Just increases the strength of the fable, The bookies were busted They shouldn't have trusted A game that was set by Euphemia, Their dreams to get rich Are now in a ditch, Instead they just left with ischemia. This neoplasm necromancer novelty While a success story, is a medical mystery, And Sister Euphemia knowingly smiles It builds her legend and enhances her history. Fibril_late; 9/30/08

When you're 83 and have a handful of nasty diseases, you really need to watch your step......literally!

Too Risky

You're too sick, it's too risky
We can't operate,
Can you imagine those words
And ponder that fate?
He broke his femur May first
And now, it's September,
He walked so long ago
He can barely remember.

Heart disease and hypertension
Diabetes and CVA,
Add a pinch of lung disease
And baby, you can't play,
In the league of operative candidates
You struck out, long ago,
But now your aortic aneurism
Is threatening to blow.

Dr. V, a vascular surgeon
Is a brave and serious dude,
He describes a very risky plan
Saying, without this, you are screwed,
Something about an endograft
He can place without an incision,
Who am I to argue?
With his death defying decision.

Now, since we'll have you on the table
We'll invite our Dr. Crip,
He used to be a gangster
Before he specialized in hip,
He'll revitalize your femur
With a carbon fiber head,
And a couple weeks from now, sir
You'll be leaping out of bed

With comorbidities like mine
I couldn't take this lightly,
I had prayed to fourteen deities
And made sacrifices nightly,
But the shadow of the reaper
Had been looming ever near,
As a veteran of the second war
I have familiarity with fear,
And the antidote for that, my friend
Springs from hope and faith in living,
Gratitude for every moment
And the capacity for forgiving.

Oh what the heck, I'll take the shot
Though it seems a risky proposal,
Without the surgery, I think
I'd be ready for disposal;
So when Dr. V, comes around again
I'll look him in the eye,
Saying, "Nothing is accomplished, sir
If you never-ever try".

Fibril_late;
9/28/08

I get pretty excited when someone posts a comment:

Trickle

I'm surprised, lo, I'm honored
When a reader responds,
I feel like Jesus on the donkey
With folks waving palm fronds,
Returning to his home town
One week before the end,
Or was it just a mistake?
They meant delete and not send.

Who knows, but I like it
Because the blog-world is huge,
Letters and replies trickle
They do not deluge,
But if one reader stops
And nudges a friend,
I'll keep writing and blogging
Till my very end.

Fibril_late;
9/28/08

It happens over and over; old age, a big MI in a beat up heart, confusion and one last trip down memory lane.

Leaping Larry

Leapin' lizards, said Larry
I feel like I'm in jail,
They've got me in handcuffs
And tied to a rail,
I can't reach my water
And I can't take a pee,
Won't somebody out there
Take pity on me?

Leaping Larry, in his lemon leotard
Slipped through the rails,
It was a move he had perfected
Escaping from jails,
During his peppery life
On the lam, on the run,
Leaping Larry robbed banks
But he never used a gun.

It was a hell of a dodge
For a man in his condition,
And for a fellow in a posey-vest
'Twas a Houdini rendition,
Yet, when all was said and done
He didn't really fall,
His legs just couldn't hold him
Like toothpicks, they were small.

Leaping Larry's condition?
He had a big, damaged heart,
He even had chest pain
Each time he would fart,
He was panting and wheezing
Just laying in bed,
But who would predict
That tonight, he'd be dead.

Leaping Larry's situation
Was really, quite common,
We discussed him at lunch
Over two cups of ramen,
Bemoaning our situation
About this crazy old man,
It's tough to be caregivers
When confusion is the plan.

Leaping Larry in his lemon leotard
Was confused to the last,
Like a retired fisherman
Who had made his last cast.
And with his body so weakened
He just sat there on the floor,
One look at his sorry countenance
At once, we knew the score;
That this was one Larry
Who would leap, nevermore.

Fibril_late;
9/24/08

Unnamed sources..............

Sister Euphemia

Unnamed sources
Close to the fount,
Lay a mighty hefty price tag
A multi-million amount,
On that shiny new cadillac
Of our CareConnect system,
Donald Trump is our advisor
I'm sorry I missed'em.

But it wasn't just a million
My sources would claim,
Sister Euphemia
Is a very rich dame,
And she's splurged on a computer
With a bundle of tools,
We'll either look really smart
Or like a community of fools.

Fibril_late;
9/22/08

Having just finished my two weeks of "super-user" computer training for the brand-spanking-new, computer charting and electronic medical record, I can foresee that there are going to be some major glitches come December 2nd, the day the system goes "live".

Right now let it be known, that I want to collect some hazard-pay for that week.

There's going to be a pile of people who didn't get enough training, or perhaps they avoided it altogether, like I avoided public-speaking in 9th grade. Come time for the final exam............meltdown!

Computer Slowdown

I took a week, off of work
For computers,
Late night keystrokes
And frequent rebooters,
Crashing the hard-drive
Every three out of four,
When I asked for some overtime
I was kicked out the door.

I entered strings of nonsense
And logged-on in code,
They said, do it this way
And stay on our road,
But I crashed all the guardrails
Like Mr. Toad's wild ride,
Good thing it was a computer
Or I surely would have died.

When the instructors slowed down
So the class could advance,
I fell asleep counting the threads
In my seersucker pants,
Until the collective complaints
Of the students in that room,
Cleaned my mind of it's cobwebs
Like the sweep of a broom.

Well, I have to admit
That I learned some new stuff,
And I understand that the Luddites
Will have it pretty rough,
When, ye olde computer system
Comes to life, December 2,
If you can't point, click and dropdown
More pity on you.

Fibril_late;
9/21/08

I'm finally getting acquainted with my COW (computer on wheels) at work. You see, although California is always considered to be on the cutting edge of many things, when it comes to advances in hospital operations, we seem to be dead last. And what gives? Here we are, in the capitol city of one of the worlds most robust economies, and we seem to be the final market in the developed world to get turned on to computer charting!

Anyway, it is providing me with a lot of fodder to munch on, as I morph into a "super-user".


W.O.W. ~ Wookiee-on-Wheels

Refresh, right-click
Read your screen,
Then you'll know
Where you have been.

Set your range
That's date and time,
Then your data flow
Will be sublime.

Change the dose
And not the rate,
If you screw up here
You'll rue your fate,
And never ever
Select Infuse,
Or your I's and O's
Are sure to confuse.

When you make a choice
You must verify,
Don't "refresh" first
Or you will cry,
Because your precious order
Won't be there,
You'll have to start all over;
The computer won't care.

The tubes and drains
And the VADS don't flow,
To the Iview
Where you'd like them to go,
Instead
They only populate,
The Quickview/kardex
Now, ain't that great?
But the Quickview is only
Good for a glance,
You can't change nothin'
Not a chance,
No, your only option
Is to double-chart;
So like a computer-
Not really smart.

All-in-all
This program is whacked,
I can hardly wait
For the day that it's hacked,
And then I can add
My own little bots,
To auto-fill the info
Into the document slots.

Fibril_late; 9/18/08
_________________________________
Cerner Learner

Perhaps you've heard, that I'm a Cerner learner
Gathering all the nuances of the system,
The program is really quite complicated
So, don't even ask me to list'em,
I've been encouraged to explore and discover
In the process I'll sharpen my skills,
I guess the idea, is when the system goes live
I'll be on top of my tasks and my pills.

Now some of us computer users
Can't help it, but we're pushing the envelope,
Exploring all the nooks and the crannies
Going, way out on the rope,
Focusing upon in-depth research
For all of the shortcuts and such,
To find any weakness in the system
And the things we're advised not to touch.

I won't claim that I'm a hacker at all
I'm just curious, and you know that old story,
There was a cat who was poking around
And he followed his nose to his glory,
So, please don't be talking this up
I know Cerner is just a tool to apply,
My goal is to find all the shortcuts
My mission? Well at least, let me try.

Fibril_late;
9/18/08
____________________________________

Click Times Three

Left click, right click
Rah, Rah, Ree,
Point your mouse
And click times three,
Open a window
Drop down a menu,
Choose a band
With a whole new venue.

Right click, left click
Rah, Rah, Ras,
Too many details
In this class,
Logoff or exit
Suspend or close,
Where your data disappears
Nobody knows.

Fibril_late; 9/18/08

Perhaps it's time to take a break from my own writing.

I present to you, Steve H. from Virginia. We worked together at the Big House in Sacramento about 15 years ago, and I'm happy to say, that he shares my unique view of health-care. Additionally, he is a fine writer who gets straight to the point in 7 letters or less.
Enjoy!

Trach

Mr. Johnson please,
If just for my sake,
Don’t cover your mouth
Please cover your trach.

I know you don’t try
To blow snot from that hole,
But, honestly, sir
You can’t control, where it’ll go.

The last time I was in here
You showed me your charm,
By blowing that green stuff
All over my arm.

I’ve suctioned and suctioned
You just produce more,
The evidence is on the wall now
With some on the door.

Yes, this is the stuff
That makes my stomach really ache.
A guy with no conscience-
A cough and a trach.

______________________________

Nurse of the Year

The patient was gasping
And turning real blue,
She was punching the call light;
So, nurse, where were you?

That call light was ringing
For fifteen minutes or so,
When finally the aide came;
So, nurse, where did you go?

She stood up in her bed,
And she tried hard to yell.
You were nowhere around;
So, nurse, who did you tell?

“Well, boss, I’m surprised,
Now, didn’t you hear?
I went to the Awards meeting;
I got Nurse of the Year”.

Steve H.
Sept. '08

Yessireebob:

Over at Sister Central, where we are transforming ourselves to digital deliverers of darn good health-care, we have to familiarize ourselves with about 175 new medico-industry acronyms like "BMDI" (Bedside Medical Device Interface). Just take a moment to think about what the abbreviation "BM" brings to mind, and you'll begin hallucinating like I did.

Don't ever forget; behind every industry that relies on a plethora of acronyms, there is an entire conspiracy at work in the background!

BMDI

Care Connect has provided us
With an incredible new-fangled tool,
Some sort of digital gadget
To handle the recording of stool,
Nurses throughout the whole system
Will be scrambling to give it a try,
After decades of measuring boatloads of crap
Three cheers, for the BM-DI.

The Bowel Movement Digital Interface
Is a highly refined type of tool,
Revolutionizing the one task we hate
Transforming it, to something so cool,
That the average nurse about town
Will be bidding for the patient with diarrhea,
In the long run, the BM-DI
Will be known as the poop panacea.

I admit I am jealous right now
That I didn't pursue this invention,
As a veteran nurse of 25 years
I have witnessed such bowel distension;
It ultimately explodes, at the worst of best moments
Such a quantity, that can not be measured,
The BM-DI, will determine a value
So each ounce of that crap will be treasured.

Fibril_late;
9/12/08