(I am in the hospital, about to give birth to my son. They have been trying to induce me for three days since I am far past term, the baby is large, and it is time for him to come out. Each time we go in to get another round of the lovely stuff they put up your lady bits to try and start contractions, I have the same nurse. She is terribly mean and has a horrid bedside manner. My hubby and I are very non-confrontational people, so we just deal with it and don’t say anything. Fast forward to day three: my water finally breaks at midnight. We head to the hospital to be admitted. Since it is the night shift, we have a new nurse who is a wonderful girl. She gets me settled and set up with an IV. She ends up having to use a smaller gauge since my veins are sometimes a bit difficult, but it’s no problem. The day shift comes and Nurse Meanie is back. She is in a mood and is fuming that the night nurse used a size smaller gauge on my IV. She then spends the next several hours trying to redo it with a larger-gauge needle. She has my hand wrapped in hot towels for a couple hours to make the veins pop, with no luck. After five failed attempts this way, she takes to slapping the back of my hand to make the vein pop out better. My hubby has had to step out to grab something from home we had forgotten, so I am on my own. My hand is hurting quite a bit and she just keeps slapping and slapping.)
Me: “Can you please just stop? I have an IV and it seems to be okay. That really hurts me. Please just stop.”
Nurse: “No. They never should have done this gauge IV. I don’t know what these young nurses think they’re doing; this is absolutely wrong and I will be having a talk with them.”
(She keeps slapping my hand, and has tried the IV another three times. I am now in tears from the constant poking and the prolonged slapping.)
Me: “Okay, this is enough. Stop it and leave the IV alone!”
Nurse: “No, I have to do this. This gauge is not large enough to administer the meds you need. I have to do it. You’re in labor; you can deal with a few needle pricks.”
(I am now full-on crying, and any sense of being nice is completely gone.)
Me: “That’s it! We are done with this. This IV is fine and I will not allow this to continue!”
(I pull my hand away and she tries to grab it back. I pull it close to my chest and glare at her as best I can. She is more than angry and leaves the room. My doctor comes in a few minutes later to check how I am progressing. Nurse Meanie comes in a moment later and proceeds to loudly explain how incompetent the night nurse was at giving me an IV, and how she has been trying all morning to fix it. She shoots me a look and then tells him that I have been incredibly difficult and refused to allow her to replace the IV. She has the smuggest look on her face and smiles at me, all sickly-sweet. The doctor looks at her as though she’s gone mad. He shakes his head.)
Doctor: “There is nothing wrong with that gauge of IV. I would have recommended the same since her veins are hard to find. I don’t blame her for refusing if you have been trying for hours. There is no problem here.”
(Nurse Meanie’s face looked so angry and embarrassed. She opened her mouth to speak and then shut it. And then she stormed out of the room. The doc turned to me and I just said, “Thank You!” He shook his head and said that he would make sure a different nurse was assigned to me from there on out. Thank goodness.)
