I have had quite the week. We have been busier than a one legged man in an ass kicking contest at work and the gear up for school has me cranky. Delirious, but cranky. I went out with the Nav and the Nav's wife on Friday before the great push to Bahrain. The Nav decided that having his legal wife and his second wife together for any length of time, especially when buckets of alcohol are involved, equals an incredibly loud time. We ended the night playing pool where I exhibited my mad skillz...like scratching on a break. Pair that with an incredible bank shot that I'm not even sure Fats Waller could have made, and I am the semi-Rain Man of billiards. The Nav is usually completely impressed by the amount of food his wives can put away, but that night he put us to shame. Some kind of bizzaro alternate universe was happening. I expected to see evil Superman any minute.
I have a thought. How about if you are bat-shit crazy and just a miserably, unhappy person, you take your psych meds before you come to the hospital? And make sure your crazy ass parents take theirs as well. It just makes everyone's life so much easier. This gal was nuts and a generally unhappy person. Her attitude pissed off Dr. Good Drugs (Handsome Silver Haired Devil version) and I've never seen that happen in 10 years. His brother, yes; him, never. She complained about the beds, the contractions, the pressure, the IV, the BP cuff, and so on, ad infinitum. When I set her up for her epidural (the first of two she would get) and explained that the BP cuff would go off every 5 minutes her reaction was "Jesus Christ! Every five minutes? Why?" I remained professional, on the outside and cursed her name on the inside, and once again explained about the need to keep her and her baby safe. She was "tired of this! It was two days of MADNESS!" Lady, that kid is still on the inside; you don't KNOW madness! Later, after she was comfortable, I told her to rest and her response was, lifting her arm, "How am I supposed to do that with this cuff on my arm??" I breezily replied, "Try your best!" and blew out of the room for awhile.
My plans to go out Friday night fell through and I was rather relieved. I had grand thoughts of mowing the lawn, cleaning the carpets, painting my nails, and folding laundry without child interference. I threw the gas can in the back of the car and went to the gas station. I must not have tightened the cap down, because very soon I started to feel a little light headed and loopy. Who needs to drink when they can huff gas fumes in an enclosed car? I came back home, hammered back some sushi, folded some clothes and painted my nails. I then turned on a movie and waited for my nails to dry. This was at 1800. I woke up at 2330 and decided the rest of my plans went to shit, so I may as well go to bed.
Speaking of movies, I found The Presidio on OnDemand and is it just me, or is Mark Harmon getting hotter as he ages? NCIS is one of my favorite shows (and not just for him), but you be the judge:
Mark Harmon then:
Mark Harmon now:
And how about this: graduate cum laude from UCLA, saved two teens from burning to death in a car wreck outside of his house, played quarterback for UCLA, father won the Heisman in 1940 for playing for the University of Michigan, and his grandfather was SecNav during WWII and a vice presidential nominee in 1936. One of his sisters was married to Ricky Nelson so he is the uncle of the band Nelson. And he's married to Pam Dawber who is not only beautiful, but nice according to all reports. Bitch.
So a sign I'm going to hell; the patient I was bitching about earlier tried to check out on us today. She wasn't my patient today. She delivered and started pouring blood. They attempted to get the placenta out, only got fragments and went back for a D&C. By the time she got to the OR, she was not responding to stimuli, they couldn't get a BP or a pulse. She poured blood off her bed all the way down the hallway, by the way. We had ICU nurses and two anesthesiologists, arterial and central lines going in, blood being poured in as fast as we could, Bakri balloon placed, all the fun you could imagine. The blood, platlets and plasma weren't coming as fast as they should because the blood bank only had one person working today. I'm sorry, are we a LEVEL FREAKING I TRAUMA CENTER OR NOT???? I guess trauma doesn't happen on the weekends. I hate to tell the administration, but staffing in the blood bank is not where you should try to cut expenses. This chicks arms were mottling; she was actively trying to cash out on us. She got transferred up to the ICU and I asked if anyone had put the collection balloon on the Bakri. No one knew about it, so I grabbed one and ran to ICU, one of the nurses in the room asked "Is this too much bleeding?" From what I could see at the time I said "Not really." Then I picked up the end of the Bakri tubing and the blood was pouring out onto the bed. "That right there IS too much bleeding." I hooked up the bag, immediately got 200 ml in the bag and ran to call her OB/GYN. The ICU doc in charge was very nice, but getting a little worried, as was I. The OB doc came in, asked for another med we give for hemorrhage, which I gave, and then she asked for another one.. I looked at her and said, "I think we need a hyst." By this time we had 400 mls in the bag and it was still coming. Our OB/GYN asked the ICU doc if the patient was stable for transport and he said, "The alternative is her bleeding out here in the room, so, yeah." We trucked her down to the OR where I had to crawl under that damn sterile drape to deflate the Bakri, and then stayed to check off more blood, platelets and plasma, as well as fetching suture, her original nurse ran for blood, and the OR nurse did everything else. At one point her hemaglobin went to 2.8 and her hematocrit went from 28 to 8. Yes, her hemaglobin was 2.8 and her crit was fucking 8! That shit will put your sphincter factor at about 10.9. All total before I left she got 10 units of blood. 4 six packs of platelets and 4 units of plasma. And she was still in the OR when I left. Her nurse did such a good job running her ass off even though she hates this shit. Good news is the patient's crit went up to 24. W00t! And I made a comment that maybe the hypoxic brain injury would sweeten her personality. So, yeah, I suck and I'm going to hell, but I'll have friends there. Now I'm suffering adrenaline backlash and I want to sleep for a week..unfortunately, I still have a lawn to mow, oil to change, kids to raise, etc. Dammit.