Daniel's Big Trip

Found a link to a new blog today, Daniel's Big Trip. He's a second year med student travelling around the country during his required summer "set yourself apart from all the other students or you'll be persona non grata around here." What his med school hopefully realizes is, he's already set himself apart from the other students. Daniel was an Army helicopter pilot who lost most of his right arm in Afghanistan. He is travelling with his mildly retarded Boxer, his words, (who sounds suspiciously like Knucklehead McSpazatron) in an old Suburban nicknamed the Pinto Bean. His writing is great and the pictures are fabulous. Check it out.


h/t to Chuck Z

There's too many choices

Today was a busy day. Too many patients, too few nurses, dogs and cats living together, mass hysteria! I tried my best to explain to these nitwits...er...physicians, who should know by now, that when I say we are understaffed that means no increasing/repeating of whatever induction agent the patient is on and no breaking anyone's water. (Which, technically, can be condsidered an induction, I don't care if she is a primip!) Luckily, when these egocentric gargoyles want to fight me on it, I can now turf them to my charge nurse. Because charge nurse is no longer in my job title, so sod off! The point I'm struggling to make is that we were busy. So after getting one of my patients epiduralized up to her nippies, it was time to empty her bladder. Having seen all manner of anatomy, and the little variations that make us unique, in my 9 years of doing this joyous job, I no longer fear that I can't find a urethra. It doesn't enter my mind. Little women, huge women, perfect-nursing-school-bullseye-can't-miss-it, or labia swollen like Twinkies (nice visual there, huh?) I can get 'em. So it was very disconcerting today to be having no small amount of difficulty passing the catheter. I would swab and poke, swab and poke, and this went on for a minute or two before I realized it was her clitoris. Can't cath a clitoris; believe me, I tried! A little more traction and voila! Meatus discoverus! My only saving grace is that she was epiduralized so I didn't have to put up with this. My job is so cool.

Quote from the Spawn of Satan

At the car wash as the two (cute) teenaged girls wiped down the door frames:
"Mom! Those girls are hot!" (Can I just put a condom on him now?)

Mama Has Issues

FB was sitting on the couch, absorbed in his DS game when he asked me a question. In my defense, I was washing dishes and my ear is plugged again from the Devil's own cold or allergies or something. The conversation is as follows:

FB: "Mom? Do you like nipples?"

Me: "What?!" (Good thing I have filters in place and they are high functioning, otherwise FB might know more about what I think of nipples than he should)

"Nipples. Do you like them?"

"What are you talking about?"

"These magical creatures."

"You call them Nipples?!"

"No, that's their name. See?" (FB pulls up a character list. It's a Harry Potter game.)

"Okay, those are Nifflers. Completely different."

"Oh."

Hemmorhage

As we all know, I'm no stranger to animals peeing on my rug. So, when I noticed puddles on my carpet, the red haze of rage threatened to overtake me. Upon closer inspection, the aroma assailed me and I thought, "No way the rug pissers did this." (Bonus points to those who can cite that movie quote. And I've given you a hint: MOVIE quote.) Investigation of the litter box revealed that it was nearly pristine in it's cleanliness. Cat attack. For his sake, he better be ill, because if this is his way of telling me he prefers to sleep under my blankets rather than the top of the comforter, he will find himself being an outside cat. I care not that he is fairly defenseless in his half de-clawed state. I pulled out the dreaded cat crate, put the Cat From Hell in a half-nelson with sleeper hold, and wrestled him, spitting and screaming, into it. Off to the vet we go.

My dear vet was not impressed with CFH's health history and informed me I was going to have to do some behavior therapy combined with aromatherapy and maybe some exorcism. "But we'll test his urine just to be sure." Testing his urine turned into gassing him, a bladder irrigation, some subcutaneous fluid replacement, and other sundry activities resulting in a charge of $275. (My dad's reaction? "It wouldn't have cost me $275." Yes, Daddy, and how much do hollow points run these days?) The kicker of this whole experiment is that CFH required some medications, one of which is available only through a human pharmacy. He was to get the half the usual dosage twice a day. Unfortunately, the pharmacy wont make 1/2 dosage capsules. Thus, my vet gave me (okay, SOLD me) some gel caps to divide the pills. The vet tech even gave me pointers: "You can use a credit card to divvy it up." Now I see myself red eyed and sweaty, separating this white, powdery medication like some kind of kitty dope pusher, rolling up Monopoly money for CFH to snort the precise lines. I decided to just pull the capsules apart and pour the stuff into the gel caps until it looked as if equal amount were in each. Two problems. The first being, this stuff doesn't pour and the second being these are tiny little gelatin capsules and it would take someone with far less caffeine on board than I to do this without making a mess. As it was I had more visions of little kitty cocaine vials, and wondered where I could get coke spoons that small. Not to mention how would he use them as he lacks opposable thumbs?

My days are now spent grabbing the poor feline out from whatever dark, inaccessible haven he has stashed himself, prying his maw with it's glistening fangs wide open and shooting these meds down his throat without getting sliced by the vegematic back claws while dodging the dog's inquisitive nose into CFH's nether regions. You can't say my life is boring.

The mental pygmies were out in full force today at InnerCity General. I had three triage patients today and they may have had 2 functioning brain cells and 1/2 a synapse between them. *sigh* Complete with the oh-so-classy support people. I had asked one of these mental giants when she had had her last bowel movement. There was a pregnant (heh) pause and she must have shot a pleading look toward her baby daddy, because he then tenderly asked her, "When was the last time you took a crap?"

TSO at The Sniper linked to an Ace of Spades post regarding an Amazon.com wish list for recovering soldiers at Walter Reed Hospital. This little blurb describes what the wish list is for and how it is used:

The movies and games are part of a larger effort by CAUSE, a group founded in 2003 by 4 West Point grads who had served together in Vietnam. The idea behind CAUSE is that morale among active and recovering soldiers and Marines can be dramatically improved through R&R activities. At Walter Reed, CAUSE has facilities at the Mologne House, which is an outpatient dormitory for personnel and their families. The CAUSE library carries DVDs, as well as video games and equipment and is open to anyone at Walter Reed, free of charge.

A fine way to support the troops and the vets. I'm just sayin'.

Child Angst

Walking down the hall toward his Sunday School class today, SoS had this to say:

"Mom! When are you going to find someone else to marry you? Daddy's in HEAVEN!"

(Said with a tone of voice that implies I'm going to have run some poor guy down like a steer, wrestle him to the ground, and shoot him full of hallucinogens in order to hook him up with me and distract me from SoS's activities. He's been feeling the heat A LOT this week. )

Laughing hysterically, "I'll see what I can do about that, dude."


Completely off topic, but still funny:

I was talking to one of the dads at Tae Kwon Do on Saturday and we got onto triage, frequent fliers, and questionable decision making skills. He's an Army medic and did some clinic work while in Afghanistan. He had this little pearl of wisdom to share: "You can cure anything with caffiene pills and Viagra." I wonder if that would work with the mental pygmies and crack hos that make up a large part of my client base? Couldn't hurt.