NursingZen

The Bay area has been sparkling with light. This was my hike in Oakland yesterday:

Warm, balmy nights bring me right back home to New York.

Tonight I walked home from work wearing my short sleeves and stopped every half block to be bowled over by the smell of freesia.

Tonight I was floated to the new-nurse-friendly unit and pigged out at a birthday potluck: chap jae, California rolls, chow mein, BBQ pork, adobo chicken, brownie, and ice cream.

Life is pretty good.

Tonight I left work floating on cloud nine. Tonight I experienced a warm and supportive nursing team, from working nurse to break relief to unit clerk to manager.

I was “floated” (assigned to work in a unit that is not my usual) for the first time tonight, but contrary to expectations, I wasn’t left hanging by my fingernails on a deadly precipice.

As soon as my assignment was given to me, my colleague, who happens to be a union representative, was assessing my assignment to make sure it was fair. When we learned that I was given a fresh post-CABG patient, with whom I have no experience, he tried to get my assignment changed.

When he couldn’t change it because of staffing issues, he said, verbatim: “I’ll be your back-up. Don’t worry. You come to me with any questions.” Unbelievably, he was also to serve as a break relief and help get vital signs.

At the same time, the manager pulled a nurse from a non-urgent assignment and said to her: “You watch after the two floats and help them.”

This nurse then said to me: “I’ll be the care partner (until we get a care partner in a couple hours). You just do your assessments and get yourself oriented and comfortable.”

Throughout the evening, I asked plenty of questions because I wasn’t used to the patient types or the charting. Not once did I get a head-shake, raised eyebrow or condescending tone.

The unit clerk answered call lights for me with a smile.

In the break room, nurses I’ve met only once greeted me by name and asked how I was doing.

At the end of the evening, the manager reviewed my charting and reminded me to fill in some fields. My back-up nurses both asked me how I felt and whether I had any more questions.

Before I clocked out (on time!), I thanked the manager (and everyone else) for watching out for me and I asked if I could get floated here in the near future to reinforce everything I learned tonight.

I know I was given fairly easy patients tonight and that I won’t always have back-up, but everything that happened tonight brings me energy, hope, and inspiration. It’s what keeps nurses loyal to a unit and to the profession. ‘Nuf said!

Six months ago, on my first day of nursing:

My preceptor, a nurse for 30 years, prepares a patient for a scheduled cardioversion. The MDs come in to do the procedure. The MDs leave. As she wraps up, the conversation goes:

Patient: Thank you so much for everything.

Preceptor:  Oh, don’t thank me. I’m just the nurse.

Oh no.

Certainly I’ve said “I’m just a nurse” and have kicked myself before the words were even out of my mouth, but I’ve only said it a couple times and never in response to someone thanking me for my help or skills as a nurse. My goodness.

So it was cool to come across this nifty poster on The Nursing Site Blog. It’s by Suzanne Gordon, a writer, activist, and adjunct professor at UCSF (but not a nurse) who lectured in one of the MEPN classes. I’ve always appreciated how much the UCSF nursing school reminded us over and over — and over — again to recognize and resist all the ways nurses are devalued and to take charge of and promote our identity and strengths. This might need to go up in my break room.

Bud Light Lime. Apparently it’s all the rage in some parts of the country. I learned this on my field trip to Budweiser brewery, courtesy of my Health Hazards and Safety class. It’s not your typical class. We have lectures about health hazards and safety in the workplace and then make site visits throughout the Bay area. Budweiser’s spiel was about its policies and procedures that address the health and safety of its employees. Without getting into the nitty gritty of all the different policies, some of the crowd-pleasers include: an onsite gym, $100 for employees after every annual physical, a ping pong table, and a foosball table.

An irony: Employees get cases of free beer every year and as prizes for various activities…yep, drink up and fatten the liver!

I love being in a small class again … and just in time for my flagging spirit. It’s a relief to talk to people who are going through some of the same learning and growing processes as I am. Some of them were nurses for several years before grad school, some come from totally different worlds, but everyone seems to be open-minded, outspoken, and willing to defy and resist the homogenization and impersonalization of regular hospital nursing. Or, maybe I’m projecting.

Sigh. I’ve been trying filter out my recent negative feelings, because well, complaining is a drag for everyone. But I’m human and this is nursing we’re talking about after all. I hope to write constructively about some recent challenges with hospital culture. I’ll try to work out the issues offline before posting them.

Friday night: Heard through the grapevine that I’m going to get a new admission — on side B, while also having patients far away on side A — a no-no. The manager and I saw each other on the floor, so why am I hearing this through my colleagues and not directly from her?

Saturday night: Several nurses and I are supposed to be practicing a new computerized system. Suddenly in a big flurry a manager says, “The word from UP TOP is that we need nurses to admit patients NOW.” Everyone jumps because the person UP TOP says so.

Some other night: I’m one-hour overtime because right before change of shift my patient goes bonkers and won’t stay in bed and is developing a gigantic hematoma. I let the supervisor know this after I’ve stabilized the patient and I’m asked:

“Why didn’t you let us know sooner?”

“Well I couldn’t, because my patient was confused, agitated, and bleeding and it took three of us to keep her bleeding under control.”

“Oh, but still…”

Last night, a plate of warm homemade cookies wasn’t enough to take away the bitter taste in my mouth.

When I have questions or need help, I can always count on one particular unit clerk and a couple particular nurses to give me a withering look, shake their head, and mutter under their breath. I don’t understand them, and I’m done trying. I don’t give a crap where they’re coming from — they should be able to treat me as they’d want to be treated.

As a new nurse, and worse, a cultural outsider, I feel voiceless and helpless. And the jerks must know it — speak up to them? They’ll only gossip.

One of my strengths is my positive disposition, but will it survive my nursing unit?