Being a Grown Up is Stressful

I heard it my whole life, I knew it was coming, I knew they weren't lying.
But mom and dad were right- being a grown up sucks. I always thought the bills would be the only bothersome thing, but holy shit- they don't make it easy on anyone anymore. Between cars, insurances, bills, families, holidays, the job and all the in-between stresses of life- its a wonder any of us are still sane.

I have spent the last two days on the phone with doctors, nurses, schedulers and insurance pepole, all of which are trying to do their damndest to make sure that I am stressed to my max and feeling it. Frankly, it sucks. Insurance says the doctors didn't do something. Doctors say they sent it weeks ago. Insurance says to resend. They made me the middle man for this convo. Good thing my cell plan has lots of minutes.

Today I woke up and started the phone calls again. Will you send in my pre approval for surgery please? Can I go off this stupid antibiotic now? Did I get approved for intermittent FMLA? Which of these numbers is prime? What side of the bed do I sleep on? Can you tell I'm going insane? Which witch is which in deciding which way to go?

Once upon a time I thought it was all about making your own rules, and partying all the time, playing whatever kind of music you wanted, whenever you wanted. Thought it was all about you and your friends, staying up late, going to partys, college being about boys and fun, discovering yourself, making mistakes and not having a care in the world. Thought it was all about who you were and what you wanted- when in reality, it is less and less freedom than when I was a kid.

My little brother turned 18 the other day, (Happy Birthday Kiddo! I know you don't read this so I didn't write ya anything...sorry!) the Cadet and I sat him down to give him some words of advice.

"Listen to mom and dad kanoosh. You have more medical bills than I do and you do NOT want to have to pay those on your salary. (He works at a fast food place.) Also, come home 5 minutes early for curfew still, so they don't think you're out to break their rules. You have it easy here kiddo- don't make the mistakes I did."

But alas, at 18 you don't listen to your older sisters tried and true advice. Instead you learn for yourself. Like I said, being a grown up sucks.

Stuck in a Rut

Lately I'm struggling to find inspiration to do my job. I'm struggling to keep attentive and compassionate, mainly after the types of patients I have been assigned to. Patients who moan and scream, in the hopes that they will get more narcotics. Patients who lie to all the staff, and cannot keep up with the lies. Hard-core psych patients. High needs patients. I feel like I am drowning in a sea of patients and people, and am no longer doing what I once loved to do.

As I walk into patient rooms now I see the patient I will have to become to chase my dream. I see myself in the bed, in the sling, and with the pain. I see myself trying to remember why I did it after all. I search the community college pages endlessly in the vain hopes of anything else that catches my eye for education. Anything that I could possibly do that wouldn't harm my injury or my body. Nothing catches my eye. I only want to be a paramedic.

I wonder if its worth it, a 16 week recovery period. Not being able to even have the surgery until late this year if I decide to go on with it. With the Paramedic program I want to go into I would have to quit my job- the schedule is Mon-Fri 7a-5p and Sat 8a-2p. There is literally no time to work and study and be successful for this career. I wouldn't want to work. I want to pass. I think about my options. I think about life. My fiance starts POST on Sept 8. He's got his future started and ready to go, and not being one to lie I am envious.

Last night kicked my ass. Still being sore from my appointment with the surgeon and still stressed as can be I tried my damnedest to keep up with the fast pace. I was in pain, and I kept smiling, doing what I had to do to simply do my job, but in the back of my mind I kept wondering if any of it was worth it.

It could be worse. I could be exactly like some of my patients. I could be in such a mess that no one knows how to save them, let alone deal with them. I could be admitted to a psych ward any time now without reason or rhyme. I could be continuously abusing myself and my loved ones. I'm simply just a girl with a road block.

Its back to work tonight, and back to the unit. Hopefully I can get back out of my funk and back to doing the job I set out to do.

Tears, Frusteration and Feeling Overwhelmed.

As my body collapsed into a sitting position on the box of medical supplies I felt everything else grow weak. It was the first time I had been able to sit in hours, and as my muscles relaxed I suddenly realized how fragile I feel. I buried my face in my hands and sniffed as hot tears escaped my eyes, staining my cheeks and landing haphazardly on my scrubs. Generally I never cry, but tonight I catered to those emotions and let them come, reliving the events that brought me to this point.

"You're putting the CPM on wrong!" A patients family member yelled at me. I had already had to fix a few errors about placement of the immobilizer, the CPM and her drains and other miscellaneous tubes, and suddenly I realized that the patient may not be the one to blame. She kept trying to push past me and was throwing an elbow into me. Frustrated I turned around.

"Do YOU do this for a living?" I asked her, trying to remain as calm and cool as I could, but feeling my pulse pounding wildly.

"Well, no, but-"

"Then let me do my job, because my job is to take care of your family member, and I do a damn good job of it." I then finished putting the CPM in place, double checked my work and then spoke only to the patient. Frustrated I left the room only to see more call lights going off. One of the Nurses was helping ,but I wondered where the other was as the two of us ran room to room trying to deal with this mess.

It was only three hours into my twelve hour shift, and I hadn't quit running since I got there. Not only did I only have the help of one of the two Nurses, but one of the doctors had made early rounds, and even though they are amazing people, they are similar to hurricanes. They come into the room, where the patient is in order and their room is tidy and leave the patient with the blankets thrown around everywhere, their bandages cut off and their machines placed all around the room, and leave them for us to clean up. Generally I don't mind cleaning up after them, however tonight we were busy, and that just added to the mess. Not to mention the other nurse was collecting orders and reading them off to me in what seemed to be an endless list.

"Dani!" She yelled after me. "Room 100 wants dinner, room 99 wants to go to the bathroom, room 98 wants soup and crackers and room 97 need an IV pole in their room."

'Do it your damn self.' I thought, but trudged on to the galley to continue on the seemingly endless task.

As I was assisting a patient up for the first time since her surgery, I kept following protocol and trying to take a minute or two, to avoid the one tequila two tequila phenomenon. I try to explain to all patients that getting up from surgery is a long process, it has 4 steps and that its similar to taking tequila shots, if you go too fast, you will find that '4 tequila equals floor.' And we simply can't have that.

"Are you dizzy, lightheaded or nauseated?" I asked the patient, looking at her face closely and watching her expressions, trying to read through her words and translate whats really going on. She seemed like a sweet enough gal, but I had to be sure.

"No." She said, then took a step. I asked her again, and again, her reply was "No."

After taking her to the restroom and back the Nurse confronted me and was frustrated that I had gotten her up and let her walk when she was dizzy and nauseated. I looked at the Nurse, frustrated that she had lied about that, and more frustrated that I was getting in trouble for it.

At a brief moment of rest the night nurses and I vented to each other about everything from cars to family to men. As I had my turn venting the Nurse stopped me to inform me that I was wrong on my opinion. I stopped and felt my jaw drop a little, unsure about if I had really heard her right. She was a smart enough woman that I didn't think she would do that, so I shrugged it off and we continued talking, but moments later she jumped in on me for being wrong again. It didn't matter what I said, she wanted to prove me wrong.

"You did what?"
"Dani did you fix that yet?"
"What was the temp in room 96?"
"Rooms 95 and 94 need to go to the bathroom."
"Did 93 and 92 get dinner?"

Call lights endlessly dinged and pulse oximiter machines rang and the staff kept asking questions, making my to-do list and adding to it, and finally the insult to my personality and who I was lead me to politely excuse myself to do vitals, then ducking into this storage closet and breaking down.

My shoulders shook as I bent over, gasping for breath and wiping my eyes, cursing myself and everything to do with this shift every chance I got. As the tears continued to fall I started to second guess myself, my skills and why I was doing what I'm doing. I sniffed loudly and tried to stop crying, but finally gave up, and let myself cry.