NursingZen

I had a crap weekend.

Friday: Three of four patients, demented. Second medication error of my short career (alas, more on this in the upcoming Post of Shame). Went home 1-1/2 hours late.

Saturday: Literally up to my elbows in poop — cleaning diarrhea out of a 300-lb. bedbound patient four separate times. No care partner (nursing assistant) available on weekends. No break relief nurse available to me until 6 hours into my shift.

Sunday: Not a bad day, but exhausting because a demented patient required constant monitoring. No sitter or care partner available. More pooping from the bedbound patient. Went home a half hour late.

Monday: Since this day was my fourth in a row, I already knew two of my four patients (the demented one and the bedbound one, both with chronic heart failure) and by this day the demented one had a continuous sitter and the bedbound one was no longer having constant bouts of diarrhea. Although my patients were stable, I had a new admission in the middle of the shift at the same time that I had to manage a blood transfusion. Admissions throw everything off. I was flying in and out of rooms, up and down halls with hardly a breath. I got help from other nurses and used every time management skill and trick that I’ve collected over these four months, but they weren’t enough. At one point I took a chance on something because I was feeling desperate — and quickly knew it was the wrong corner to cut, but it was too late. I know I’ll be answering for it next week (to be continued in the Post of Shame). Went home 1-1/2 hours late.