Doctors, nurses, and staying healthy

Inject A Little Patience For Your Patients

, , , , , | Healthy | January 24, 2021

I have an injectable maintenance medication which is administered every three months. Once I began nursing school and was signed off on injection administration, my doctor said it was stupid to have me come into the office to get this medication administered since I routinely did it for others as part of my clinicals. I was ordered to call in with the date, location given, and lot/expiration date. For three years, I did not have any issues doing this. That is, until the doctor hired a new nurse.

I call in.

Me: “Hi, this is [My Name], born [Date Of Birth]. I’m calling in with the information on my injection.”

Nurse: “What do you mean, ‘calling in with the information’?”

Me: “Oh, the doc allows me to self-administer at home and call the information in.”

The nurse goes BALLISTIC. 

Nurse: “What the h*** do you mean self-administer?! You aren’t allowed to do that! You must come in to have a nurse give that! I’m going to report you to the doctor and he’s going to fire you as a patient.”

Me: “I’m a nurse. I literally work in the building next door to your office. [Doctor] thinks it’s stupid for me to come in for this. It wastes my time and your office’s time.”

Nurse: “Don’t you lie to me, girlie!”

She continued screaming at me.

At this, I’d had enough and told her I was hanging up. I went to work early the next day to go speak to the nurse manager for that office. I was informed that it wasn’t an issue any longer as the doctor had heard her screaming at me. He waited and then informed her that I was indeed a fellow nurse and he didn’t allow his nurses to treat patients or fellow colleagues like that.

A nurse I work with told me about watching security unceremoniously removing a nurse from the building next door the previous day.

It’s not often that instant Karma occurs, but when it does, it’s glorious.


This story is part of our Best Of January 2021 roundup!

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Good Thing Bad Parenting Isn’t Contagious

, , , , | Healthy | January 23, 2021

I work for a school for students with special needs. Most of the parents are great, but some are idiots.

I am working in a first-grade classroom. One of the teachers takes one of the kids to the bathroom while I am helping the other teacher hand out breakfast. We suddenly hear a small scream, and the teacher comes out, holding the kid under the armpits.

Teacher: “He’s got ringworm! Get him to the nurse, quick!”

I grab the kid and take him to the nurse’s office, which is a closed-off area of the main admin office. The nurse is just about to go on her medication rounds but quickly checks the student, confirming it is ringworm, and goes to call his mother. It’s a small office so I hear the whole conversation while I keep the kid entertained.

Nurse: “Hello, [Mother], we just discovered that your son has ringworm. Could you please come get him?”

Mother: “Yes, I know. I saw it this morning.”

Nurse: “Excuse me?!”

Mother: “I put a bandaid on it. Didn’t you see?”

Nurse: “Ma’am, you cannot cure ringworm with a bandaid. You need to pick up your son and bring him home. He cannot return to school until a doctor confirms that the ringworm is gone.”

Mother: “I’m at work.”

Nurse: “You still need to come pick him up and take him home. How soon can you be here?”

Mother: “I’m at work; I can’t get him. He has to stay there for today.”

Nurse: “No, you need to pick him up. He has a contagious fungal infection and cannot stay here!”

Mother: “I’m at work.” *Hangs up*

The nurse turns back to me in shock.

Nurse: “Can you believe this?!”

Me: “Yes, but good news: she doesn’t work. She brings [Student] a hot lunch every day, so she’ll be here in a few hours.”

The nurse just looks at me, incredulous, but then goes out to the secretary and talks to her before coming back in and filling me in on the plan. She then leaves for her rounds, leaving me to watch the student and keep him isolated.

After two hours, when it’s almost time for our class’s lunchtime, the student’s mother drives up. The nurse has just returned, and she and the secretary leap into action.

The secretary lets the mother in but then stands by the door to the outside. The nurse comes out of her office, leading the student. I stand by the door leading into the school, blocking anyone from getting in.

The nurse marches up to the mother, who is dressed in a T-shirt, yoga pants, and flip-flops — definitely NOT a working uniform — and holds the student out to her.

Nurse: “Your son has a fungal infection that is contagious via skin contact and he cannot return here until you have a doctor’s note stating that the infection is one-hundred percent cleared up. It will be at least a week. Make sure your doctor includes a phone number because I will be calling to check and be sure [Student] was cleared. You may go now.”

The mother silently took her son and exited via the door the secretary was holding open for her. The student did return fully healed, but she never tried to pull that trick again!

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Order Matters Word!

, , , | Healthy | January 22, 2021

Our electronic medical records program has a screen where we fill in details regarding prescriptions and it puts together the sig from that information. Sometimes the providers don’t pay attention to the output. Here’s an actual prescription I caught that had been sent several times before I did:

Prescription: “Take one tablet to make it easier to urinate orally, once a day.”

I’m sure the pharmacists got a laugh every few months when that came through!

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Taking “Sharing Is Caring” To Another Level

, , , , , | Healthy | January 21, 2021

About a decade ago, I decided to donate my kidney as a non-directed donor, meaning I didn’t know the person who would get the kidney; the hospital picked him. Knowing that I volunteered with children and had a real soft spot for them, the hospital recommended a twenty-two-month-old child as the person to receive the kidney.

The surgery went fine and I got to meet the child for the first time a month after the surgery. I thought this would be the only time I would meet the child.

A number of years later, I get a surprise call from the pediatric department of the hospital where I donated. They are doing a reunion party where they get together kidney donors and kidney recipients, and they want to know if I would like to attend. Excited at the chance to meet the child again, I agree to attend.

When they finally arrive at the party, while their mother is busy signing in, the boy and his twin brother wander into the party and apparently recognize me. The one that I actually donated the kidney to is a bit shy at first about meeting me, not so much his brother.

Twin Brother: “Are you the one that gave my brother the kidney?”

Me: “Yes, I was.”

Without saying anything else, he runs up to me and gives me a gigantic hug.

Twin Brother: “Thank you!”

His brother seems a bit unsure how he is supposed to interact with his kidney donor at first, but I have enough experience with kids that I am able to get him to open up soon enough. Eventually, the brothers are excitedly dragging me around to face painting and all the other activities they have for the party.

Boy: “Where did you get the extra kidney from?”

Me: “Everyone is born with two kidneys, but we only really need one, so they took my left kidney out of me and put it in you, and I keep using my right kidney.”

Boy: “How did they get it out?”

Me: “They cut a hole in my belly button and then stuck a machine in through it which they used to cut my kidney out and pull it out through my belly button. Then they did the same thing to you to put the kidney into you.”

Brother: “Did it hurt?”

Me: “They put me asleep when they cut the kidney out, so I didn’t feel anything then. It did hurt a few days after, but it got much better after the third day. It was worth it to help.”

Kid: “Oh.” 

The kid stands there, clearly thinking about that for a few more seconds.

Kid: “Thank you.”

By the end of the party, both twins were asking if I could come visit them again. Since I love kids anyway, I told them I’d be willing to, but I didn’t want to impose, so I told them I could only if their mother wanted to invite me. I heard the kids tell their mother that they wanted me to visit, but I never did get an invite to visit them from her. It’s been many years since then, but I hope, wherever they are, both kids are still as happy and healthy as they were the last time we met.


This story is part of our Feel Good roundup for January 2021!

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Wrap This Person In Bubble Wrap!

, , , | Healthy | January 21, 2021

CONTENT WARNING: Major Injury

 

I am accident-prone. I mean, REALLY accident-prone. I have broken most of the bones in my body at least once — some, in the case of my nose and fingers, multiple times. I have screws and plates all through my body. There’s nothing wrong with my bones, either, if you need further proof of what a disaster magnet I am.

In the highlights of my list of “big injuries”:

I was hit by a drunk driver and dragged two blocks when I was eight years old. It took me months to learn how to walk again. I fell down a set of stairs in high school and broke both my legs. I was ADJACENT to a car crash as a pedestrian and had all my ribs broken by a flying tyre. I was attacked by a pack of dogs when I was a toddler that somehow got past two locked six-foot gates. I was the only one injured when my first workplace burned down, despite being one of the first out the door. I was standing in the evacuation area with thirteen other people when the gas canister exploded, and guess who was the only person hit with glass and shrapnel? Me.

I am not exaggerating the disaster magnet thing. My husband is well versed in emergency rooms and surgery waiting areas.

I start working at a fast food place. My husband waits for the inevitable call that I have been horrifically burned by the fryer or somehow run over in the drive-thru.

One night, I’m working overnight. My husband is peacefully sleeping when he gets a call from my manager. He groggily answers the phone.

Husband: “Hello?”

Manager: “Hey, man. Um, [My Name] has just left here in an ambulance. She asked me to ask you to meet her at the hospital and bring her emergency bag?”

My husband gets out of bed and starts to grab my always packed emergency bag.

Husband: “Yep, on it, mate. Hey, what happened?”

Manager: “She, uh… She broke her hip.”

Husband: *Pause* “I gotta say, out of everything I expected, that wasn’t it.”

Yep. I had slipped on a puddle of grease and slid the exact wrong way with my leg twisted. It had dislocated, and then I landed on it full force and rolled. After surgery and rehab, I was okay, but my husband LOVES to tell people I broke my hip flipping burgers.

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