I worked last night, and it was a good shift. It hit the sweet spot of stuff to do, time to sit around and crack filthy jokes with my coworkers, and fairly sick people. I don't like that people get really sick, but what I do like is the fanfuckingtastic difference between being the trauma nurse at night and being the trauma nurse during dayshift. Night: patient comes in, everyone swoops in and engages in synchronized butt-kicking under the tutelage of the primary RN, patient goes away from the ER (we stabilize and transfer; plumping pillows is optional), clean room, next up. Day: patient comes in, everyone swoops in and mills around, getting in the way of the team leader trying to accomplish anything, patient still gets appropriate treatment but primary RN has to chart off scraps of paper for 2 hours afterward. I like being in the "red zone," but I didn't on dayshift. I just could never get into the flow of how they do stuff, and you know I TRIED. Nights: bring me your traumas, your symptomatic arrhythmias, your no-kidding overdoses, and your STEMIs. I will dance from the radio over to the trauma room and be waiting with gloves on, bouncing on the balls of my feet. (This is actually accurate.) Then (excerpt from e-mail that caused recipient to laugh so loud she scared her dog):
So I live in a fourplex with a common water heater. Not a HOT water heater. A water heater. Which exploded at some point earlier. Which was probably loud. As was the giant Shop-Vac they used in the utility room and the outside hallway, which shares a wall with my bedroom. As was, probably, the loud banging on the door before they used a key to come into my apartment, squish their way to by room, and bang on THAT door.
But that didn't wake me up.
The dog had to bark, outraged, at the door. Then I got up as though propelled by an ejector button.
So. Never let it be said I have difficulty sleeping during the day. The maintenance dudes were impressed. I think they were pretty impressed with (or possibly terrified of) my sleep afro look and boxer shorts/wife beater jammies, too, but I can't be sure.
My dad is doing well after his BMT and isn't having too awful symptoms from his chemo. He sleeps a lot, but what else does he have to do? They moved him out of the highest level of isolation and into a different one because someone sicker than he was came in. I assured him that was a good thing. I also submitted my WBC count, lack of fever x 48 hours, and fact that I'm suffering through a course of Augmentin to his hem-onc doc and was told I could SEE HIM THIS WEEKEND. Assuming said fever doesn't return. I walk around with a thermometer sprouting from my mouth. No fever.
In bod-mod world, I'm an idiot with sore ears. My ears have been at 8 gauge, and I got some really cute opalite double-flared plugs I really REALLY wanted to wear. They wouldn't go in. Why? Because the ears weren't healed enough and because the gauge is too small for double-flared plugs, really. BUT I WANTED THEM. I got some fancy 6-gauge tapers with concave ends so plugs can sit in there and slip through, intending to keep them around until I was ready to stretch to 6, but then I remembered my piercer saying I had nice stretchy lobes, and I was sleep deprived, and in general I'm an idiot, so it came to me I could put the plugs in the tapers and slip them in that way. Well, it worked for one ear just fine but not the other, but having stretched both I stuck a regular 6g plug in the problem ear and then swapped the flare for a matching plug on the other side. After all that the ear the flare was in didn't even look that cute anyway so I should have left well enough alone. At any rate my ears hurt evilly and I hope I haven't jacked them up. They hurt this way when I stretched the very first time, and all was well, so there's really nothing to do but wait. If I didn't have a flat learning curve, I'd say I'd learn from the experience. Also, my ocean blue plugs are freaking cute. And they match my scrubs, so I'm all coordinated and stuff.