16 and RN

There is one question that I get asked more frequently than any other: How old are you? Apparently being twenty-two but looking like you’re sixteen is not in your favor when people are literally entrusting their lives to you. Who would have thought?

When I walk into the room, the patients give me this quizzical look that doesn’t exactly make me feel warm and fuzzy inside. The look says, “Why are they letting high school kids act like nurses?” Often I want to waltz in and pretend that this supposition is actually the case.

“Ya, it’s crazy that they let me come and play today! I’ve like never really done this before but I’m sure it like can’t be that hard. You can like tell me if I do something wrong right?” Brilliant fantasy.

It’s almost more awkward when I get a patient who is close to my age. They either ignore me and don’t comprehend the authority that I have over them (like I’m not keeping you alive…) or try and be my best friend by asking extremely personal questions and requesting a bed bath. Both are bad approaches.

LaDamien was near my age and seemed very bored. I went in to check the Mavs score and see how he was doing. He proceeds to play twenty questions with me like we were on a blind date involving stool softeners and vomit buckets. At least he cared to know what my favorite color was. Sweet, very sweet.

He asks for a piece of paper and a pen and in my naivete, I give it to him without thinking. He concentrates for a moment then hands it back to me with his phone number scribbled on it. I’m shocked honestly and fumble around for words that end up in “wow, thanks! Yeah that’s great”. No matter that it’s completely weird and against hospital policy to date patients. Unless he was rich and attractive, then I might reconsider.

All in all, it was a flattering, uncomfortable, and entertaining experience.

And then I had to take out his foley catheter. Yeah, that’s right.

Hey-sus

The Extraordinary Adventures of Nurse Natalie

I could not get Jesus (Hey-sus) to be still for the life of me.

Round one. “Hey-sus be still. You’re gonna hurt yourself. Be still Hey-sus,” I sit there telling him in my sternest, oldest voice. He doesn’t seem to care. Many patients in the hospital become delusional after a while due to narcotics, or psychosis, or just the fact that they are ornery and are trying to cause you additional angst and frustration. Hey-sus is a prime example of a neuro patient who thought that he desperately needed to get out of bed, and was going to take out all of his IV’s and the drain in his brain in the process. Real smart. Restraints become your best friend in this situation.

Somewhere along the line, I figure I will engage in espanol and see what happens.

“Hey-sus esta bien. Esta bien!” He begins nodding his head like he understands me. Finally. He lays back in the bed and I think I have won against this little Mexican sneak. At least for a little while.

Round two. Hey-sus comes off the bed despite his wrist, ankle, AND vest restraints. The veins are popping out of his neck and his fat, round face begins to get very red in frustration. Apparently my exhortations are ineffective or he thinks we are keeping him to do all kinds of secret tests and pump him full of experimental drugs only used on rats.

“Hey-sus I’m getting frustrated. You need to be still or you’re going to blow another aneurysm. I’m serious buddy.” No luck. My cohorts are staring at me with smug smiles on their faces because everyone has had this experience from time to time and everyone gloats when it’s not them.

Dan busts into the room, “Jesus! (No Hey-sus) What is the problem??” Whether he is cussing at this man or using his God-given name was debatable and I die laughing.

Round three. After yelling at Hey-sus in every language I can think of and throwing some threatening looks, he begins to mock me. Yes, the delirious Mexican man with a bleed in his brain thinks he’s funny.

“Hey-sus esta bien. Esta bein!” He taunts in his best half-English valley girl voice. At this point, I don’t know whether to burst out laughing or get really pissed. I choose to laugh as I slump down in my chair and watch him at his futile efforts to escape my carefully constructed jail cell.

Finally Jake comes over and says in his best gay voice, “I’ve had enough of this shit. Give this senor a Benadryl for goodness sake”.

Benadryl is a miracle drug in the hospital and often the first thing you look for when scanning through their medication list in hopeful expectation. Whenever you have a patient that is annoying or crazy or you’re just plain tired, you ask, “Are you itching?” with a sly smile that reveals your nefarious motives.

“Yes, actually I am itching” or sometimes with our less loquacious customers “Yeah, I can’t stand this shit, get me out of this hell hole”. Perfect answer! Then you give them the magic pink pill and they drift off to sleep while you enjoy an hour or two of peace and quiet. It sounds horrible but when you have a patient who asks you to clean out their ears with q-tips or keeps trying to get out of bed because they have to feed their cat, you would understand.

And at the mercy of the Benadryl, Hey-sus’ tense body relaxes and the irresistible pull of sleep envelopes him as I offer up a prayer of thanks. I guess I cheated in our game of nurse vs. patient but drugs are my natural advantage, my career superpower. All in a days work.

Valiant effort Hey-sus, one of the best. Until next time...