<?xml version='1.0' encoding='UTF-8'?><?xml-stylesheet href="http://www.blogger.com/styles/atom.css" type="text/css"?><feed xmlns='http://www.w3.org/2005/Atom' xmlns:openSearch='http://a9.com/-/spec/opensearchrss/1.0/' xmlns:georss='http://www.georss.org/georss' xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20390026</id><updated>2012-02-13T19:01:44.069-08:00</updated><category term='RVR'/><category term='medical insurance'/><category term='chest pain'/><category term='laceration'/><category term='Portland'/><category term='trauma'/><category term='suicide attempts'/><category term='rural nursing'/><category term='infection'/><category term='semi truck'/><category term='not much else'/><category term='Buckcherry'/><category term='bad doctors'/><category term='fainting'/><category term='GSW'/><category term='death'/><category term='eagle'/><category term='standard precautions'/><category term='birthday party'/><category term='snake bite'/><category term='proposal'/><category term='leg abcess'/><category term='mental health'/><category term='injuries from airbags'/><category term='suicide in hospital'/><category term='EMS'/><category term='frequent flyers'/><category term='defib'/><category term='maggot therapy'/><category term='Recovery Room'/><category term='warts'/><category term='STD'/><category term='Avenged Sevenfold'/><category term='ER nurse'/><category term='leg wound'/><category term='Papa Roach'/><category term='can&apos;t shock asystole'/><category term='scars'/><category term='christmas miracle'/><category term='dumb doctors'/><category term='scrub pants'/><category term='Jesus'/><category term='dead body'/><category term='bipolar'/><category term='ducks O'/><category term='ER referrals'/><category term='oregon ducks'/><category term='universal precautions'/><category term='MVA'/><category term='payphone'/><category term='motorcycle'/><category term='assume the position'/><category term='snakes'/><category term='rapid ventricular response'/><category term='qualities of an ER nurse'/><category term='injuries'/><category term='nursing salaries'/><category term='deer'/><category term='hit deer'/><category term='going blind'/><category term='rattlesnakes'/><category term='i&apos;ve been tagged'/><category term='NBC'/><category term='professional disagreement'/><category term='drug seekers'/><category term='lord help me'/><category term='injury'/><category term='Emergency Nursing'/><category term='shock'/><category term='mother letters'/><category term='harley'/><category term='abcess'/><category term='bend suicide'/><category term='fall'/><category term='schizophrenia'/><category term='amputee'/><category term='asthma'/><category term='eastern oregon'/><category term='alcohol level'/><category term='whack my fanny'/><category term='faking injury'/><category term='drainage'/><category term='complaining'/><category term='injuries from seatbelts'/><category term='suicide'/><category term='Oregon Health Plan'/><category term='state police'/><category term='ER critique'/><category term='cats in heat'/><category term='discontinued blogs'/><category term='slumber party'/><category term='high blood alchol'/><category term='Rodney Carrington'/><category term='Busy Day'/><category term='eastern oregon pictures'/><category term='STEMI'/><category term='asystole'/><category term='ER on NBC'/><category term='universal health care'/><category term='MSE'/><category term='vicodin'/><category term='resolutions'/><category term='MVC'/><category term='thrown out'/><category term='maggot wounds'/><category term='keep your pants on'/><category term='Slow day'/><category term='The Mother Letter Project'/><category term='A fib'/><category term='shy'/><category term='medical care for obese patients'/><category term='Abby'/><category term='vision loss with sex'/><category term='rose bowl'/><category term='marriage'/><category term='blood'/><category term='wounds'/><category term='wine'/><category term='return of Dr Green'/><category term='rural ER'/><category term='day in the life of an ER nurse'/><category term='Nurse'/><category term='ER visits'/><category term='rural emergency care'/><category term='faking injuries'/><category term='nailgun'/><category term='drunk as hell'/><category term='sex in a hospital'/><category term='nail gun'/><category term='bicycle'/><category term='UFC'/><category term='RN Paramedic'/><category term='injuries in car wreck'/><category term='embarrassing moments'/><category term='seatbelt'/><category term='triage'/><category term='GI bleed'/><category term='Saving Abel'/><category term='frontier medicine'/><category term='overheard'/><category term='patient'/><category term='proper use of seatbelts'/><category term='MRSA'/><category term='body substance isolation'/><category term='nursing wages'/><category term='Cambodia'/><category term='obesity'/><category term='ER'/><category term='medic vs. RN'/><category term='defibrillation'/><category term='operation'/><category term='UHC'/><category term='ortho referrals'/><category term='biker babes'/><category term='oxygen masks'/><category term='medical shows'/><category term='drunk'/><category term='eastern oregon photos'/><category term='high'/><category term='Dear Penis'/><category term='stupid people'/><category term='bikers'/><category term='venomous bite'/><category term='Medical Mission'/><category term='McSteamy'/><category term='hair color'/><category term='Paramedic'/><category term='bike wreck'/><category term='on all fours'/><category term='random facts'/><category term='smoking'/><category term='wreck'/><category term='medical screening exam'/><category term='rollover'/><category term='Adultery'/><category term='boil'/><category term='ER commentary'/><category term='return of Dr Greene'/><category term='airbags'/><category term='ambulance ride'/><category term='snow'/><category term='funny ER blog'/><category term='Gunshot wound'/><title type='text'>ER RN</title><subtitle type='html'>Welcome to the crazy world of ER nursing.  The stories that come out of the ER can make you laugh, make you cry, and make you pissed.  Sometimes all at the same time.  ER RN's are a special breed and I do believe we all lean a little bit toward the insane side of reality.  Come in, kick up your feet, and prepare to be astounded by what your fellow humans do.</subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://errn.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20390026/posts/default?max-results=100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://errn.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><link rel='next' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20390026/posts/default?start-index=101&amp;max-results=100'/><author><name>Julie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02449209908197785539</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='12' src='http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v55/obliviousmama/ERRN.gif'/></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>172</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>100</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20390026.post-2975884235135384985</id><published>2012-01-21T11:16:00.001-08:00</published><updated>2012-01-21T11:22:27.828-08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='standard precautions'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='body substance isolation'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='universal precautions'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='medic vs. RN'/><title type='text'>SP vs. BSI</title><content type='html'>&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:130%;"&gt;I got into an argument today with a medic on an internet board (I know, I know ........ you don't have to say it) regarding the terms SP vs. BSI.  She was insistent, and I mean name calling, snarling, spitting, vulgarity insistent that we MUST!  MUST!  MUST!  use the term BSI for Body Substance Isolation and that the term SP (standard precautions) went out with the dinosaurs and RN's are incompetent killers if they continue to use the term SP.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:130%;"&gt;So minus all the emotional rhetoric, what say you guys?  I had never been exposed to the term BSI (at least in any way that stuck into my brain as being a requirement for use).  We've used SP forevah!  Go SP! &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:130%;"&gt;I looked up the CDC guidelines (from 2007 admittedly, but the BSI were from 1987 so which is more current?) and they can be found here:   &lt;a href="http://www.cdc.gov/hicpac/2007IP/2007ip_tables.html"&gt;CDC Guidelines&lt;/a&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:130%;"&gt;1987 - BSI outdated&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:130%;"&gt;1996 - standard precautions into favor.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:130%;"&gt;WTF am I missing here?  Is this just a medic vs. RN thing?  Is it an unstable mental person (her or me?  Who knows!)  argument on the interwebz?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:130%;"&gt;The term truly doesn't matter, I know it's the idea of providing barrier protection between potential infectious agents for pt/care provider.  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:130%;"&gt;But damnit, I wanna know what you all think!  So lay it on me.  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/20390026-2975884235135384985?l=errn.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://errn.blogspot.com/feeds/2975884235135384985/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=20390026&amp;postID=2975884235135384985&amp;isPopup=true' title='7 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20390026/posts/default/2975884235135384985'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20390026/posts/default/2975884235135384985'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://errn.blogspot.com/2012/01/sp-vs-bsi.html' title='SP vs. BSI'/><author><name>Julie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02449209908197785539</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='12' src='http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v55/obliviousmama/ERRN.gif'/></author><thr:total>7</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20390026.post-585025148331561785</id><published>2012-01-21T00:08:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2012-01-21T00:09:55.794-08:00</updated><title type='text'>People Do Amazing Things, Yo</title><content type='html'>&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:130%;"&gt;SEE?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:130%;"&gt;You cannot make this shit up............... &lt;/span&gt;&lt;a href="http://news.yahoo.com/ill-man-joking-mood-despite-nail-brain-214046828.html"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:130%;"&gt;Man shoots nail into his brain.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/20390026-585025148331561785?l=errn.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://errn.blogspot.com/feeds/585025148331561785/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=20390026&amp;postID=585025148331561785&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20390026/posts/default/585025148331561785'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20390026/posts/default/585025148331561785'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://errn.blogspot.com/2012/01/people-do-amazing-things-yo.html' title='People Do Amazing Things, Yo'/><author><name>Julie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02449209908197785539</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='12' src='http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v55/obliviousmama/ERRN.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20390026.post-3394583448728894334</id><published>2011-12-31T22:25:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2011-12-31T23:01:20.319-08:00</updated><title type='text'>I Am The Patient....... (and not a very good one either)</title><content type='html'>&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"   style="font-family:verdana;font-size:130%;"&gt;I have found out that I am the type of patient I want to punch in the face.  Seriously.  I have issues.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"   style="font-family:verdana;font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"   style="font-family:verdana;font-size:130%;"&gt;I broke my ankle after Christmas.  I knew it as soon as I stepped my foot wrong on the step and rolled my ankle 180 degrees.  I mean I *instantly* knew it was fractured.  I heard a pop, felt a crunch, and lost my balance. Then I proceeded to fall down the next 3 steps........ in front of my 13 year old child.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"   style="font-family:verdana;font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"   style="font-family:verdana;font-size:130%;"&gt;It was awesome.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"   style="font-family:verdana;font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"   style="font-family:verdana;font-size:130%;"&gt;I COULD NOT BELIEVE how much it hurt.  Holy balls batman.  I needed to puke, hyperventilate, and scream "Mother Fucking Fucker of all that is Fucked!  What the Fucking Fuck?  AHHHHHH!" all at the same time.  My poor child was standing there with her hand over her mouth unsure on if she should laugh, cry, or tell me to shut up because I was embarrassing her  (my bet is the latter).  My mother came running down the stairs after me, screaming "I'm calling 911!  I'm calling 911!"&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"   style="font-family:verdana;font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"   style="font-family:verdana;font-size:130%;"&gt;Now let's talk about my mother - she's a bit.......um.......how do you say it......... Hystri-fucking-ONIC!   I had to catch my breath and tell her if she called 911 I'd have to cut a bitch.  There is no way in hell I'm letting my EMS coworkers come pick me up.  They'd probably get me naked and stick a rectal tube in.... or somethin'.   Just sayin'.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"   style="font-family:verdana;font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"   style="font-family:verdana;font-size:130%;"&gt;My mother backs the car up into the driveway (almost taking out my head in the process - thank God my 13 year old has the reflexes of a cat and knows how to scream "STOP!" in 0.25 seconds), and I manage to pull myself up into the passenger seat.  I do believe the neighbors got quite an eyeful of my ass in the air while I was crawling into the seat too.  I've always wanted to be in the annual neighborhood block party slide show - I figure they can use the pictures of my ass for that.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"   style="font-family:verdana;font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"   style="font-family:verdana;font-size:130%;"&gt;Away we go to the hospital.................&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"   style="font-family:verdana;font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"   style="font-family:verdana;font-size:130%;"&gt;My first thought as Mark came out the door was....... "Oh shit."  He's the best nurse we have, but he's also Ron White on crack.  I was going to be spending the next 2 hours with a jacked up jokester who would hit on my mother even if she was 85 years old and using a walker.   Mark helped me out of the car into a wheelchair and rolled me back to the exam room.  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"   style="font-family:verdana;font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"   style="font-family:verdana;font-size:130%;"&gt;I was sobbing like a 3 year old who got her Barbie stolen from her.  Seriously.  I could not control myself.  It was like something possessed me and would not let me stop crying. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"   style="font-family:verdana;font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"   style="font-family:verdana;font-size:130%;"&gt;What the fuck?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"   style="font-family:verdana;font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"   style="font-family:verdana;font-size:130%;"&gt;I don't cry.  I just don't.  I mean, unless I am pissed off and thinking of killing you or frustrated because you are being an asshole and I can't punch you in the face.  Otherwise I don't cry.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"   style="font-family:verdana;font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"   style="font-family:verdana;font-size:130%;"&gt;Except for this time apparently. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"   style="font-family:verdana;font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"   style="font-family:verdana;font-size:130%;"&gt;I think Mark was wondering who the hell I was.  He looked at me like I was an alien with 3 heads.  He was not used to seeing me act like I even remotely had a heart.  I think I shocked him into silence.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"   style="font-family:verdana;font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"   style="font-family:verdana;font-size:130%;"&gt;Until I cried out between snot rags............"OH God - I haven't shaved my legs!"&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"   style="font-family:verdana;font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"   style="font-family:verdana;font-size:130%;"&gt;Mark laughed and then shoved a BIG ASS needle into my vein - followed by some morphine that I'm SURE he was using to shut me up.  I mean really.......12 mg of morphine for a little fracture?  It couldn't have had anything to do with the fact that I kept asking for "just a couple more milligrams Mark."   I was just trying to maintain a 0 pain level, right?  I KNOW you all know what I'm talking about (especially you haters who bitch me out every time I post about drug seekers).&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"   style="font-family:verdana;font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"   style="font-family:verdana;font-size:130%;"&gt;Anyway, Mark was awesome as always, even though I whined like a baby the entire time I was there.  They got me splinted, gave me some percocet and sent me on my merry way.  I go in for casting on Monday.  Hopefully then I can bear a little weight on my leg.  Living on crutches and being non weight bearing this past week has sucked balls.  It's hard to get around with metal extensions attached to you.  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"   style="font-family:verdana;font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"   style="font-family:verdana;font-size:130%;"&gt;So I lift my crutches to all you people out there!  Happy New Year!  May you enjoy and injury free 2012.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"   style="font-family:verdana;font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"   style="font-family:verdana;font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"   style="font-family:verdana;font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"   style="font-family:verdana;font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"   style="font-family:verdana;font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"   style="font-family:verdana;font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"   style="font-family:verdana;font-size:130%;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"   style="font-family:verdana;font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/20390026-3394583448728894334?l=errn.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://errn.blogspot.com/feeds/3394583448728894334/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=20390026&amp;postID=3394583448728894334&amp;isPopup=true' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20390026/posts/default/3394583448728894334'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20390026/posts/default/3394583448728894334'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://errn.blogspot.com/2011/12/i-am-patient-and-not-very-good-one.html' title='I Am The Patient....... (and not a very good one either)'/><author><name>Julie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02449209908197785539</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='12' src='http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v55/obliviousmama/ERRN.gif'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20390026.post-6693053493356318661</id><published>2010-09-26T17:38:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-09-26T17:40:03.803-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Yeah, Whatever</title><content type='html'>Seriously, it's hard to keep up with this blogging thing.  I'm ready to throw in the towel.  I keep making promises and never following through.  Kinda like and addict...............maybe I should find a new habit!&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;So I will make no promises nor will I say I will even try to keep up.  But if something strikes my fancy, you may find it on here, or my coworkers may just hear about it at work. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;We shall see......&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;We shall see.......&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/20390026-6693053493356318661?l=errn.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://errn.blogspot.com/feeds/6693053493356318661/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=20390026&amp;postID=6693053493356318661&amp;isPopup=true' title='5 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20390026/posts/default/6693053493356318661'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20390026/posts/default/6693053493356318661'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://errn.blogspot.com/2010/09/yeah-whatever.html' title='Yeah, Whatever'/><author><name>Julie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02449209908197785539</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='12' src='http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v55/obliviousmama/ERRN.gif'/></author><thr:total>5</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20390026.post-4073248326453944965</id><published>2010-03-16T20:52:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2012-01-17T22:28:02.574-08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='rural emergency care'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='rural nursing'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='frontier medicine'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='rural ER'/><title type='text'>Rural ER</title><content type='html'>&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:large;"&gt;It's a totally different world out here in the the boondocks.  Lab and Xray have to drive in from home, the doc is probably at the playoff basketball game, and you just had someone pull up to the ER with an unconscious cowboy in the back of their pickup who got thrown off his horse.  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:large;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:large;"&gt;Oh - and the next closest hospital is 2 hours away.  In fact, the next town is 2 hours away.  Across the barren land of desolation.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:large;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:large;"&gt;Now it's just you and Lucy for the next 20 minutes.  JUST you and Lucy.  2 nurses alone in the world (can you hear the violins playing?).  No admitting clerk to register them, no scribe to write what happens.  EMS is out on a call 40 minutes from town.  Your CNA is elbow deep in diarrhea and falling old people.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:large;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:large;"&gt;What do you do?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:large;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:large;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:large;"&gt;a.   quit&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:large;"&gt;b.   pop some vicodin and go to sleep&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:large;"&gt;c.   throw out a few good fuck, shits, and damn its&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:large;"&gt;d.  grab Lucy, slap her across the face, and tell her "This is it!  It's now or never!" &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:large;"&gt;e.   wonder why you ever applied to work at this damn facility anyway&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:large;"&gt;f.   curl up in the fetal position and cry like a baby&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:large;"&gt;g.  get to work&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:large;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:large;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:arial;"&gt;Ummm....... do I have to answer?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/20390026-4073248326453944965?l=errn.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://errn.blogspot.com/feeds/4073248326453944965/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=20390026&amp;postID=4073248326453944965&amp;isPopup=true' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20390026/posts/default/4073248326453944965'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20390026/posts/default/4073248326453944965'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://errn.blogspot.com/2010/03/rural-er.html' title='Rural ER'/><author><name>Julie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02449209908197785539</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='12' src='http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v55/obliviousmama/ERRN.gif'/></author><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20390026.post-2322800063633669101</id><published>2010-02-15T21:08:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2010-02-15T21:09:56.827-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Interesting Things From School</title><content type='html'>&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"&gt;Code Today.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"&gt;Student Nurse.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"&gt;CPR.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"&gt;Good times, good times.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"&gt;I'll just let your mind take you there........&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/20390026-2322800063633669101?l=errn.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://errn.blogspot.com/feeds/2322800063633669101/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=20390026&amp;postID=2322800063633669101&amp;isPopup=true' title='7 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20390026/posts/default/2322800063633669101'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20390026/posts/default/2322800063633669101'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://errn.blogspot.com/2010/02/interesting-things-from-school.html' title='Interesting Things From School'/><author><name>Julie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02449209908197785539</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='12' src='http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v55/obliviousmama/ERRN.gif'/></author><thr:total>7</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20390026.post-4410655738884654681</id><published>2010-01-25T18:10:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2010-01-25T18:13:30.923-08:00</updated><title type='text'>BWAHAHAHA!</title><content type='html'>&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"   style="  white-space: pre; font-family:Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;font-size:10px;"&gt;&lt;div&gt;LOVE THIS!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;object width="445" height="364"&gt;&lt;param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/YXD4LvJHIFE&amp;amp;hl=en_US&amp;amp;fs=1&amp;amp;color1=0x234900&amp;amp;color2=0x4e9e00&amp;amp;border=1"&gt;&lt;param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"&gt;&lt;param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"&gt;&lt;embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/YXD4LvJHIFE&amp;amp;hl=en_US&amp;amp;fs=1&amp;amp;color1=0x234900&amp;amp;color2=0x4e9e00&amp;amp;border=1" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" width="445" height="364"&gt;&lt;/embed&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;object width="445" height="364"&gt;&lt;param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/LBg1BBKZ5go&amp;hl=en_US&amp;fs=1&amp;color1=0x234900&amp;color2=0x4e9e00&amp;border=1"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/LBg1BBKZ5go&amp;hl=en_US&amp;fs=1&amp;color1=0x234900&amp;color2=0x4e9e00&amp;border=1" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" width="445" height="364"&gt;&lt;/embed&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/20390026-4410655738884654681?l=errn.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://errn.blogspot.com/feeds/4410655738884654681/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=20390026&amp;postID=4410655738884654681&amp;isPopup=true' title='5 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20390026/posts/default/4410655738884654681'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20390026/posts/default/4410655738884654681'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://errn.blogspot.com/2010/01/blog-post_25.html' title='BWAHAHAHA!'/><author><name>Julie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02449209908197785539</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='12' src='http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v55/obliviousmama/ERRN.gif'/></author><thr:total>5</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20390026.post-8095299027950585809</id><published>2010-01-25T17:40:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2010-01-25T17:42:18.838-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Stop Using Sex As A Weapon</title><content type='html'>&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"&gt;Apparently sex does sell (you horny bastards!) as I've gotten more comments and emails on my last post then any other recent ones.  You guys need to get laid.  Seriously.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"&gt;You know I love you right?  If you really loved me...............&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"&gt;Smooches!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/20390026-8095299027950585809?l=errn.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://errn.blogspot.com/feeds/8095299027950585809/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=20390026&amp;postID=8095299027950585809&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20390026/posts/default/8095299027950585809'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20390026/posts/default/8095299027950585809'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://errn.blogspot.com/2010/01/stop-using-sex-as-weapon.html' title='Stop Using Sex As A Weapon'/><author><name>Julie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02449209908197785539</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='12' src='http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v55/obliviousmama/ERRN.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20390026.post-773175398312275884</id><published>2010-01-17T18:47:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2010-01-19T20:03:50.508-08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='McSteamy'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='sex in a hospital'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='keep your pants on'/><title type='text'>As Seen on TV......</title><content type='html'>&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:large;"&gt;Apparently, someone got caught having sex at our hospital last week.  Someone meaning an employee.  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:large;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:large;"&gt;Do people really do this shit?  I mean seriously.  Why, oh why, would you want to drop your nasty scrub pants in a place full of MRSA, VRE, Staph, and other unknown heebie geebie bugs crawlin' all around?  Do you really want your nether regions exposed to the crap that the 45 year old alcoholic vomited up onto your partner's leg 2 hours before?  I mean REEEEAAAALY?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:large;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:large;"&gt;Gross, man.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:large;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:large;"&gt;Just Gross.  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:large;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:large;"&gt;Pretty soon we'll have to have a mandatory educational session entitled "How to Prevent Hospital Acquired Vaginal MRSA Infections."&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:large;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:large;"&gt;Lesson #1:  How to keep your pants on&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:large;"&gt;Lesson #2:  How to keep your vajayjay clean&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:large;"&gt;Lesson #3:  How to sneak around outside of the hospital so you don't have to do it here.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:large;"&gt;Lesson #4:  How to properly finish your antibiotic prescription&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:large;"&gt;Lesson #5:  Prenatal classes&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:large;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:large;"&gt;I might be able to understand this if Dr. McSteamy worked at our facility....... but he doesn't.  Nor does anyone that remotely resembles him work there.   &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:large;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:large;"&gt;Sigh................ life just ain't ever like TV, ya know?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/20390026-773175398312275884?l=errn.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://errn.blogspot.com/feeds/773175398312275884/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=20390026&amp;postID=773175398312275884&amp;isPopup=true' title='13 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20390026/posts/default/773175398312275884'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20390026/posts/default/773175398312275884'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://errn.blogspot.com/2010/01/as-seen-on-tv.html' title='As Seen on TV......'/><author><name>Julie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02449209908197785539</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='12' src='http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v55/obliviousmama/ERRN.gif'/></author><thr:total>13</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20390026.post-4750469682105855362</id><published>2010-01-11T16:17:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2010-01-11T16:19:05.491-08:00</updated><title type='text'>What Are We Made Of?</title><content type='html'>&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"&gt;I always knew that nurses had balls of steel.  &lt;a href="http://finance.yahoo.com/taxes/article/108550/nurse-outduels-irs-over-mba-tuition?mod=taxes-advice_strategy"&gt;HERE&lt;/a&gt; is the evidence.  One single nurse takes on the IRS and wins - without a lawyer.  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/20390026-4750469682105855362?l=errn.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://errn.blogspot.com/feeds/4750469682105855362/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=20390026&amp;postID=4750469682105855362&amp;isPopup=true' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20390026/posts/default/4750469682105855362'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20390026/posts/default/4750469682105855362'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://errn.blogspot.com/2010/01/what-are-we-made-of.html' title='What Are We Made Of?'/><author><name>Julie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02449209908197785539</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='12' src='http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v55/obliviousmama/ERRN.gif'/></author><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20390026.post-1224614210487096972</id><published>2010-01-09T20:07:00.001-08:00</published><updated>2010-01-09T20:26:46.447-08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='slumber party'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='lord help me'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='wine'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='birthday party'/><title type='text'>It's All About the Numbers, Yo.</title><content type='html'>&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;I have a houseful of 9 year old girls tonight and I feel the need to imbibe in a little fermented grapes until I'm about a .245.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;No, Seriously.  I do.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;I can think of about 10 other things I'd rather do than head up a slumber party for eight screaming little girls.  The first thing that comes to mind is spend 2 hours standing 3 feet deep in sewage.  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;Therefore, I shall pour myself a tall glass of wine, put a movie on for the beasties, and head to the back bedroom to surf the internet and read a book.  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;Let the screaming begin!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;I just hope nobody gets hurt.  Would it count as practicing nursing under the influence if I put a bandaid on a scraped knee after a glass or six of vino?  What do you think?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/20390026-1224614210487096972?l=errn.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://errn.blogspot.com/feeds/1224614210487096972/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=20390026&amp;postID=1224614210487096972&amp;isPopup=true' title='6 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20390026/posts/default/1224614210487096972'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20390026/posts/default/1224614210487096972'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://errn.blogspot.com/2010/01/its-all-about-numbers-yo.html' title='It&apos;s All About the Numbers, Yo.'/><author><name>Julie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02449209908197785539</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='12' src='http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v55/obliviousmama/ERRN.gif'/></author><thr:total>6</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20390026.post-5502258068849558873</id><published>2010-01-06T08:31:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2010-01-06T09:12:25.314-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Shit, Crap, Turds!</title><content type='html'>&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;Damn It!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;I came to check in with my lovely blog boss this morning and I ended up deleting mutliple comments people left on my last post.  How the HELL did I do that?  Obviously I need fired ASAP.  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;So to you lovely readers that left comments (except you assholes that left all the links for Viagra - hear this - I am a wo-man.  WO-MAN.  I do not have a penis.  Though apparently on my birth records the nurse checked off Testes as being normal, so really - who knows?), I'm not censoring you on purpose.  So no shouting to the Man about how I'm violating your rights of free speech and all that shiznit.  UmmmmKay?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;I do know that Candice called my cat a whore.  The nerve (how'd she know?)!  And a Vet told me to spay my cat - to which I though, why spoil my whore's good time?  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;Now off to figure out how the hell I did that.  Might have a little something to do with the fact that I highlighted everything and hit Reject instead of Publish?  Nah, I'm pretty sure that's not it.  That'd be, like, a stupid mistake.  Like, a 12 year old would make.  Geez.   You think I'm that dumb?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:x-small;"&gt;Don't answer that.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;Off to find a good vet for my little whore........&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/20390026-5502258068849558873?l=errn.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://errn.blogspot.com/feeds/5502258068849558873/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=20390026&amp;postID=5502258068849558873&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20390026/posts/default/5502258068849558873'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20390026/posts/default/5502258068849558873'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://errn.blogspot.com/2010/01/shit-crap-turds.html' title='Shit, Crap, Turds!'/><author><name>Julie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02449209908197785539</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='12' src='http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v55/obliviousmama/ERRN.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20390026.post-4961547086126816088</id><published>2010-01-05T14:23:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2010-01-05T15:11:59.547-08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='cats in heat'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='discontinued blogs'/><title type='text'>Cleaning House</title><content type='html'>&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;I spent the last couple of hours going through my links and reading other people's blogs.  I had to do a ton of clean up, because many people have closed down their blogs.  How sad.  Some people gave reasons, some didn't, and some just plain disappeared.   Some of my favorite reads are just.....plain.....gone.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;It's kinda like loosing that damn book you &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;JUST KNOW  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;you placed on the night stand last night and now it's gone - damn kids took it and hid it again.  You'll probably find it under the cat's litter box because Little Sally Sue thought the cat needed a lifted litter box just like the neighbors loud ass truck.  Only now you can't read it because that fucking feline scratched her litter full of shit over the edge of the box and smeared it into the page edges of your book.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;Then you think to yourself, "I knew I shoulda put that damn cat to sleep last week."&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;Speaking of cats, mine is in heat.  I've never seen a cat in heat before.  Hell, most people who knew me 10 years ago are probably shocked that I have ever even seen a cat.  I hated the little purring, stinking, shedding, shitballs.  But now I kinda like our little MiMi.  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;Until last night.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;I have never seen a cat that wanted to get it on with a cardboard box.  She wants to get laid so bad she's just screaming about it.  Little hussie.  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/20390026-4961547086126816088?l=errn.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://errn.blogspot.com/feeds/4961547086126816088/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=20390026&amp;postID=4961547086126816088&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20390026/posts/default/4961547086126816088'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20390026/posts/default/4961547086126816088'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://errn.blogspot.com/2010/01/cleaning-house.html' title='Cleaning House'/><author><name>Julie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02449209908197785539</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='12' src='http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v55/obliviousmama/ERRN.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20390026.post-755139661182811956</id><published>2010-01-02T13:47:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2010-01-02T13:49:41.641-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Drug Seekers and Seizure Fakers, Oh My!</title><content type='html'>I found this over at &lt;a href="http://emergency-room-nurse.blogspot.com/"&gt;Madness: Tales of an Emergency Room Nurse&lt;/a&gt;  and I laughed my ass off.  I'm so glad she found it and shared it.  &lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;object width="425" height="344"&gt;&lt;param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/_m64cy1MMPg&amp;amp;color1=0xb1b1b1&amp;amp;color2=0xcfcfcf&amp;amp;hl=en_US&amp;amp;feature=player_embedded&amp;amp;fs=1"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;param name="allowScriptAccess" value="always"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/_m64cy1MMPg&amp;amp;color1=0xb1b1b1&amp;amp;color2=0xcfcfcf&amp;amp;hl=en_US&amp;amp;feature=player_embedded&amp;amp;fs=1" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowfullscreen="true" allowscriptaccess="always" width="425" height="344"&gt;&lt;/embed&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I love that the "ER" is a mini-mart.  Completes the whole concept.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/20390026-755139661182811956?l=errn.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://errn.blogspot.com/feeds/755139661182811956/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=20390026&amp;postID=755139661182811956&amp;isPopup=true' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20390026/posts/default/755139661182811956'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20390026/posts/default/755139661182811956'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://errn.blogspot.com/2010/01/drug-seekers-and-seizure-fakers-oh-my.html' title='Drug Seekers and Seizure Fakers, Oh My!'/><author><name>Julie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02449209908197785539</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='12' src='http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v55/obliviousmama/ERRN.gif'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20390026.post-1498584755618720756</id><published>2010-01-01T14:30:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2010-01-05T15:07:42.884-08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='resolutions'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='oregon ducks'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='rose bowl'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='ducks O'/><title type='text'>Obligatory Resolutions</title><content type='html'>&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;I hate January.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;The month of "I-must-change-my-life-and-become-a-better-person-right-this-instant-but-will-probably-fail-within-2-weeks-when-I-rip-ass-on-the-gas-station-attendant-for-spilling-unleaded-down-my-car."  Seriously.  Personal improvement?  Bettering of our lives?  Pashaw I say.  It's a bunch of crap.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;You TOTALLY know (now I sound like my 12 year old) you will be back to your old self within 18 days, so why bother?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;Alas, I've been told it is a requirement of living in our great United States of America that I must make a list of resolutions for the New Year.  Who knew?  Therefore, in the spirit of rebellion that flows throughout the veins of my soul, I shall make resolutions that I know I can keep, rather than professing that I'm changing my life and becoming the perfect example of a modern day Mother Mary.  I prefer to make goals that fit nicely into my life and require very little work.  Why not feel some bit of success, eh?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;So without further ado........&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;#1 - I will wake up every day (Whaaat?  You don't know how that is a challenge for me sometimes.  I like to avoid the world, pull the covers back over my head, and dream of running my own country.  I have admirers there - and servants.  And they allllllll adore me).&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;#2 - I will go to sleep every night (Ok, so this one isn't so hard for me - see above.  I like to visit my country).&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;#3 - I'll probably laugh a few times, cry at least once (maybe twice - depends on what my dear lovely manfriend does to piss me off), and yell at my poor innocent children frequently (don't worry - they're used to it.  They've learned to tune me out).&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;#4 - I shall engage in arguing with my haters.  Now that is always a fun time.  Pushing buttons - it's a great thing!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;#5 - I will find a few new blogs and love them for about 2 months.  Then never go back to read them, until I find them again 8 months later and think they're new ones I've never seen before.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;#6 - I will tell a story to Yolie and lose topic in mid-sentence, diverting to what we're going to do Saturday night instead.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;#7 - I will read approximately 102 books, some of them twice - again, not remembering that I read them the first time.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;#8 - I will tell someone I love them.  Probably 5 or 6 someones.  2 of which will be my children, 1 my dog, 1 my cat, 1 my man, and 1 is saved for a wild card later.  Might get a bird or something.  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;#9 - I will not laugh like a hysterical maniac inside my head every time I see an Oregon Ducks fan make a big O with their hands that totally looks like a big asshole.  Sigh......I might have trouble with this one.  In fact, I've already broken it 186 times today watching the Rose Bowl.  I am already a failure. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;#10 - I will forgive myself for not succeeding at resolution #9 and I will pretend it never existed.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;I think that about covers it.  That's all the success I can handle without my head exploding and becoming so enamored with myself that y'all look like the pathetic losers you are.   So for the sake of your sanity and self esteem maintenance I will go no further with my Resolutions (cuz I'm gonna keep all those bitches!).  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/20390026-1498584755618720756?l=errn.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://errn.blogspot.com/feeds/1498584755618720756/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=20390026&amp;postID=1498584755618720756&amp;isPopup=true' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20390026/posts/default/1498584755618720756'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20390026/posts/default/1498584755618720756'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://errn.blogspot.com/2010/01/obligatory-resolutions.html' title='Obligatory Resolutions'/><author><name>Julie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02449209908197785539</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='12' src='http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v55/obliviousmama/ERRN.gif'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20390026.post-7653242927963302935</id><published>2009-11-17T16:25:00.001-08:00</published><updated>2009-11-17T16:36:55.638-08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='funny ER blog'/><title type='text'>Surfing for Porn - AKA reading other ER blogs</title><content type='html'>&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:large;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:arial;"&gt;I&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:large;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:arial;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:large;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:arial;"&gt;s&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:large;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:arial;"&gt;eriously Laughed My Ass Off reading &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;a href="http://candiceandco.blogspot.com/"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:large;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:arial;"&gt;THIS&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:large;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:arial;"&gt; blog.  No seriously.  It slid down the back of my thighs, did a ski jump off my muscular calves, and landed with a greasy sounding PLOP! on the floor behind me.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:large;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:large;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:arial;"&gt;Seriously.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:large;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:large;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:large;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:arial;"&gt;OK, it really just slid off my backside like the blob it is and settled into the canyon between the couch cushions.  I'm still trying to find a way to reattach it.  Cuz I need my ass.  I truly do.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:large;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:large;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:large;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:arial;"&gt;So props to &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;a href="http://candiceandco.blogspot.com/"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:large;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:arial;"&gt;Candice&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:large;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:arial;"&gt;  and her amazingly funny blog.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:large;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:large;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:arial;"&gt;(Plus - she uses the word fuck a lot and how can I resist a fellow trash mouth?  Huh?  How can I?)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: arial;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: arial;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: arial;"&gt;Come to think of it, I haven't cussed much lately on my blogs.  Maybe that &lt;a href="http://errn.blogspot.com/2009/01/foul-language.html"&gt;preachy woman&lt;/a&gt; actually did get to me.  Must remedy.  Pronto.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: arial;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: arial;"&gt;Sanctimonious Assholes.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: arial;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: arial;"&gt;I feel better already.  Sigh.........&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/20390026-7653242927963302935?l=errn.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://errn.blogspot.com/feeds/7653242927963302935/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=20390026&amp;postID=7653242927963302935&amp;isPopup=true' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20390026/posts/default/7653242927963302935'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20390026/posts/default/7653242927963302935'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://errn.blogspot.com/2009/11/surfing-for-porn-aka-reading-other-er.html' title='Surfing for Porn - AKA reading other ER blogs'/><author><name>Julie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02449209908197785539</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='12' src='http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v55/obliviousmama/ERRN.gif'/></author><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20390026.post-9011804634281044938</id><published>2009-11-17T14:27:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-11-17T15:44:58.275-08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='triage'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='medical screening exam'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='MSE'/><title type='text'>Medical Screening Exams</title><content type='html'>&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: verdana; font-size: large;"&gt;At our facility, the RN's perform the Medical Screening Exam (MSE for short).  An MSE is the initial exam you receive in the ER to determine if your need is emergent or non emergent.  This must be done before any financial information is requested from the patient (such as insurance info).  Basically, it's a quick assessment and any testing that may be needed (such as a quick lab draw or xray) to determine if you truly need to be seen and use up ER resources.  An MSE is required by our government so that we don't dump you on some other hospital or refuse to treat your emergency if you don't have insurance.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: verdana; font-size: 18px;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(255, 0, 0);"&gt;Let us discuss......&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(255, 0, 0); font-family: verdana; font-size: 18px; font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: verdana; font-size: 18px;"&gt;Please.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: verdana; font-size: 18px;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: verdana; font-size: 18px;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: verdana; font-size: 18px;"&gt;Because some things drive me to drink and this is one of them.  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: verdana; font-size: 18px;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: verdana; font-size: 18px;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: verdana; font-size: 18px;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: verdana; font-size: 18px;"&gt;#1 - This does not, I repeat, NOT mean that you are entitled to a free ER visit.  We DO get to charge you.  We just cannot ask for financial info until after the MSE.  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: verdana; "&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;"&gt;Some&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: verdana; "&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;"&gt; hospitals happen to not charge for MSE's that are not seen by a physician, but every facility is different and can choose what they charge for.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: verdana; font-size: 18px;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: verdana; font-size: 18px;"&gt;#2 - An MSE is NOT an ER visit.  It is a screening to determine if your situation is emergent or not.  Emergent means life or limb threatening, or acute pain.  Example:  A stroke is emergent.  A sprained ankle is not.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: verdana; font-size: 18px;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: verdana; font-size: 18px;"&gt;#3 - If we deem your visit as &lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(51, 51, 255);"&gt;non emergent&lt;/span&gt;, we do have the right to tell you so.  We also may tell you (but not always) that there is NO need for you to be seen in the ER and that you should follow up with your primary provider.  Follow ups can even wait until Monday.  Yes - they can.  If you are seen in the ER anyway (either because you insist on it or because the facility allows it), you will probably have a tremendously long wait (think 6-8 hrs) because the &lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(255, 0, 0);"&gt;emergent&lt;/span&gt; patients come first.  You come last.  Sorry, that's just the way it is. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: verdana; font-size: 18px;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: verdana; font-size: 18px;"&gt;#4 - If you do not have a primary provider - get one.  If you do not have insurance to see a primary provider, what makes you think that going to an ER will be any cheaper?  We are usually 4 or 5 times the cost of going to a doctor's office.  Example:  office visit for sprained ankle approx $100.  ER visit for sprained ankle approx $600.  Most physician's offices will work with you to arrange payment options.  Yes, even those that ask for money up front.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: verdana; font-size: 18px;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: verdana; "&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;Side vent - for those who say they cannot get in to see a physician because they have not established previously with the practice, take the time to do so on a day you have some free time.  That makes it so much easier for you to get that appointment for a sore throat when you call the doctor's office.  If they already have seen you and you've established care, they can put you into the open slots they save for daily immediate care cases.   &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: verdana; font-size: 18px;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: verdana; font-size: 18px;"&gt;#5 - We'll ask for money too.  We just won't ask until the MSE is complete.  That means we may tell you that you need to pay your $100 copay (average ER copay) up front before being seen any further.  Yes, we are an ER but we are also a business.  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: verdana; font-size: 18px;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: verdana; font-size: 18px;"&gt;#6 - If your visit is deemed &lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(255, 0, 0);"&gt;Emergent&lt;/span&gt;, then you will be seen regardless of insurance, ability to pay, or any other defined item.  You will be taken care of.  Period.  But...... it is our decision to make.  Not yours.  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: verdana; font-size: 18px;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: verdana; font-size: 18px;"&gt;#7 - Even if a physician performs your MSE, these same rules apply.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: verdana; font-size: 18px;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: verdana; font-size: 18px;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: verdana; font-size: 18px;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: verdana; font-size: 18px;"&gt;Now let's move on to the nurses, because we have some stuff to learn too.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: verdana; font-size: 18px;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: verdana; "&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;SHHH - don't tell anyone I said that out loud.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: verdana; font-size: 18px;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: verdana; font-size: 18px;"&gt;#1 - Not every person needs to be seen in the ER.  It is OKAY to MSE them and discharge them out of the ER for follow up with their primary provider.  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: verdana; font-size: 18px;"&gt;#2 - YES - even if they have no insurance to be seen at a clinic.  Do you think that means we'll ever get paid?  We do not (&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(255, 0, 0);"&gt;yet)&lt;/span&gt; get government reimbursement for non emergent visits. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: verdana; font-size: 18px;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: verdana; font-size: 18px;"&gt;#3 - Standing Orders may be used for MSE's.  As long as your policy says so, then do so.  Think of it this way - if you have a Chest Pain come in, do you wait for the MD to come up from the cafeteria and give you an order for an EKG before you do one?  Didn't think so.  I bet you use your cardiac standing order sets (or some such name). &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: verdana; font-size: 18px;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: verdana; font-size: 18px;"&gt;#4 - And for you overachievers out there....... when in doubt, have them seen by the ER doc.  We are not allowed to diagnose a patient.  Remember your scope of practice.  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: verdana; font-size: 18px;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: verdana; font-size: 18px;"&gt;#5 - Last but not least, an MSE is a whole different monster than Triage.  Triage determines who should be seen in what order.  An MSE determines if they should be seen at all.  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: verdana; font-size: 18px;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: verdana; font-size: 18px;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: verdana; "&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;Of note for all you medical peeps out there:  Our state has determined that it is within the Scope of Practice for an RN to perform Medical Screening Exams as long as a proper orientation and monitoring program is set up and followed.  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: verdana; font-size: 13px;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: verdana; font-size: 13px;"&gt;And apparently I am supposed to remind you that this is my OPINION and not a teaching tool for MSE's.  If you'd like a teaching tool, you may contact me via email and I will share our MSE orientation packet and monitoring program.  It's not big, nor is it impressive.  Just warning you now. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: verdana; font-size: 13px;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: verdana; "&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"&gt;Alrighty then, I am off to pour a glass of vino because just typing this out made my head hurt.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/20390026-9011804634281044938?l=errn.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://errn.blogspot.com/feeds/9011804634281044938/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=20390026&amp;postID=9011804634281044938&amp;isPopup=true' title='5 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20390026/posts/default/9011804634281044938'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20390026/posts/default/9011804634281044938'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://errn.blogspot.com/2009/11/medical-screening-exams.html' title='Medical Screening Exams'/><author><name>Julie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02449209908197785539</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='12' src='http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v55/obliviousmama/ERRN.gif'/></author><thr:total>5</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20390026.post-581182127729158986</id><published>2009-11-17T10:04:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-11-17T16:14:26.557-08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='eastern oregon photos'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='eastern oregon pictures'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='eastern oregon'/><title type='text'>Photo Blog</title><content type='html'>&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"   style=" ;font-family:verdana;font-size:large;"&gt;Just a quick note to post a link to a new photo blog.  There are some pretty neat pictures at &lt;a href="http://www.easternoregonphotos.blogspot.com/"&gt;Eastern Oregon Photos&lt;/a&gt;. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/20390026-581182127729158986?l=errn.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://errn.blogspot.com/feeds/581182127729158986/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=20390026&amp;postID=581182127729158986&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20390026/posts/default/581182127729158986'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20390026/posts/default/581182127729158986'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://errn.blogspot.com/2009/10/photo-blog.html' title='Photo Blog'/><author><name>Julie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02449209908197785539</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='12' src='http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v55/obliviousmama/ERRN.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20390026.post-7884531617347703085</id><published>2009-10-27T09:42:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-10-27T09:46:05.406-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='ER referrals'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='stupid people'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='ortho referrals'/><title type='text'>I'll Just Get Right On That Suzy Q</title><content type='html'>&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: verdana;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"&gt;If you are diagnosed with a fracture and the ER doc tells you to follow up with an ortho doc, it is NOT our job to arrange that referral for you.  We are busy.  Go to your primary care doc within 1 to 2 days and have their office staff arrange for the referral.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: verdana;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: verdana;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"&gt;I do not have time (nor the ability on a weekend) to call your insurance, obtain approval, and then arrange an appointment with the ortho center.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: verdana;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: verdana;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"&gt;I'm too busy doing CPR on this 21 year old who overdosed on sleeping pills.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: verdana;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: verdana;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"&gt;And if you continue to be snippy with me, I will curse you in my prayers.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: verdana;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: verdana;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"&gt;Just sayin'................  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/20390026-7884531617347703085?l=errn.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://errn.blogspot.com/feeds/7884531617347703085/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=20390026&amp;postID=7884531617347703085&amp;isPopup=true' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20390026/posts/default/7884531617347703085'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20390026/posts/default/7884531617347703085'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://errn.blogspot.com/2009/10/ill-just-get-right-on-that-suzy-q.html' title='I&apos;ll Just Get Right On That Suzy Q'/><author><name>Julie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02449209908197785539</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='12' src='http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v55/obliviousmama/ERRN.gif'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20390026.post-6846109196513457742</id><published>2009-10-22T17:26:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2009-10-22T17:29:03.849-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Time Machine and the Flu</title><content type='html'>&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large; font-family: 'trebuchet ms';"&gt;2 years ago these same symptoms would have been called "A Virus" and everyone would have been told to go home and let it run it's course.  Now all of a sudden everyone has "the flu" and is getting rx'd for Tamiflu or hospitalized, sometimes unnecessarily.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'trebuchet ms'; font-size: 18px;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'trebuchet ms'; font-size: 18px;"&gt;I brought this up to Dr Q the other day at work.  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'trebuchet ms'; font-size: 18px;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'trebuchet ms'; font-size: 18px;"&gt;"I know," he responded.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'trebuchet ms'; font-size: 18px;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'trebuchet ms'; font-size: 18px;"&gt;Love how the media has determined how we treat patients this year.  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'trebuchet ms'; font-size: 18px;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'trebuchet ms'; font-size: 18px;"&gt;Sigh............&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/20390026-6846109196513457742?l=errn.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://errn.blogspot.com/feeds/6846109196513457742/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=20390026&amp;postID=6846109196513457742&amp;isPopup=true' title='5 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20390026/posts/default/6846109196513457742'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20390026/posts/default/6846109196513457742'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://errn.blogspot.com/2009/10/time-machine-and-flu.html' title='Time Machine and the Flu'/><author><name>Julie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02449209908197785539</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='12' src='http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v55/obliviousmama/ERRN.gif'/></author><thr:total>5</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20390026.post-6679017972039491928</id><published>2009-10-19T14:22:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2009-10-19T14:26:33.613-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Reciprocity</title><content type='html'>&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'trebuchet ms';"&gt;My new friend Richard, AKA Rich apparently, left me a comment asking I link to his post about iPhone apps for EMS personnel.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'trebuchet ms';"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'trebuchet ms';"&gt;Hmmmm.... I thought.  Ah-ight.  Can do.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'trebuchet ms';"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'trebuchet ms';"&gt;So &lt;a href="http://blog.onlinecollegeguru.com/health-care/19-iphoneitouch-apps-for-ems-personnel/"&gt;HERE YOU GO&lt;/a&gt;.  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'trebuchet ms';"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'trebuchet ms';"&gt;Alas, in my little Burg one cannot use an iPhone.  Piss poor service and reception I hear.  Our 4 bars of Verizon equals 0.25 bars for iPhone.  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'trebuchet ms';"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'trebuchet ms';"&gt;But for the betterment of humanity, I shall overcome this little setback and post the linkyloo for those of you who can use it.  My selflessness is of benefit to you.  Yes, Yes.  I know.  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'trebuchet ms';"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'trebuchet ms';"&gt;I deserve the Nobel Peace Prize too damn it.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'trebuchet ms';"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'trebuchet ms';"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/20390026-6679017972039491928?l=errn.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://errn.blogspot.com/feeds/6679017972039491928/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=20390026&amp;postID=6679017972039491928&amp;isPopup=true' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20390026/posts/default/6679017972039491928'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20390026/posts/default/6679017972039491928'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://errn.blogspot.com/2009/10/reciprocity.html' title='Reciprocity'/><author><name>Julie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02449209908197785539</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='12' src='http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v55/obliviousmama/ERRN.gif'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20390026.post-2013876051683868546</id><published>2009-10-19T13:39:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-10-19T13:53:53.571-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Update From The Burg</title><content type='html'>&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:large;"&gt;Well craptastic - it's been a while eh?  I guess my life in the ER has not been interesting enough to provide you all with a story or 2.  Either that or I'm just a lazy piece of work that hasn't had the inclination to log into my blog and share.  I'm going for the second excuse.  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:large;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:large;"&gt;Flu season has hit my little burg.  Not only at work, but at home.  I have 2 sickies home today skipping school.  I heard that 50% of my oldest kiddos class is out of school sick with flu like symptoms.  We also have about 15% of our staff out related to their own or their child's illnesses.  Oh boy - the joys of winter!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:large;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:large;"&gt;I've been spending a lot of time on the internet looking at non medical things - like facebook.  Sometimes you need a break from anything medicine related.  Right now is my Sometime.  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:large;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:large;"&gt;I had someone ask me a while back, "Do you think this is a trauma?" for a patient who was pitched over a motorcycle, into a barbed wire fence, and had 2 long bone fractures, a positive LOC (loss of consciousness for my non medical peeps), and a probable flail chest.   &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:large;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:large;"&gt;Um..........&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:large;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:large;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:large;"&gt;Yeah.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:large;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:large;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:large;"&gt;Idiot.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:large;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"   style=" ;font-family:arial;font-size:18px;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:large;"&gt;Some people are dumber than a box of rocks. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_36HeNbICT9w/StzQ9N2jvNI/AAAAAAAAADE/WM0mKjiEhxI/s1600-h/46631367.BoxofRocks.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 308px; height: 320px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_36HeNbICT9w/StzQ9N2jvNI/AAAAAAAAADE/WM0mKjiEhxI/s320/46631367.BoxofRocks.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5394416203792104658" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"   style=" ;font-family:arial;font-size:18px;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/20390026-2013876051683868546?l=errn.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://errn.blogspot.com/feeds/2013876051683868546/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=20390026&amp;postID=2013876051683868546&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20390026/posts/default/2013876051683868546'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20390026/posts/default/2013876051683868546'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://errn.blogspot.com/2009/10/well-craptastic-its-been-while-eh-i.html' title='Update From The Burg'/><author><name>Julie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02449209908197785539</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='12' src='http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v55/obliviousmama/ERRN.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_36HeNbICT9w/StzQ9N2jvNI/AAAAAAAAADE/WM0mKjiEhxI/s72-c/46631367.BoxofRocks.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20390026.post-5064208765407293754</id><published>2009-09-19T10:33:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-10-19T14:18:42.675-07:00</updated><title type='text'>It's Not A Tumah!  It's Not!</title><content type='html'>"OH MY GOD !  MY WIFE IS HAVING A SEIZURE IN THE CAR!  HELP ME!"  He screams as he runs through the ER doors.&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Up we jump, 'cuz we're like &lt;a href="http://www.lesschwab.com/employment.asp"&gt;Les Schwab Employees&lt;/a&gt;.........always running to greet you.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Lucy and I hop up out of the chairs at Nurse's Station, leaving our Peanut M&amp;amp;M's behind.  Sigh.....I had just opened that damn bag.  Now I won't get to finish it.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;We walk out the double doors and into the drive up.  A blue '78 Caddy is idling with the front door open.  A large, no very large, lady is sitting in the front seat applying lipstick.  &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;"Is this your wife?" I ask.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;"Yes ma'am," he replies.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;"She's not having a seizure," Lucy says.  She's a smart one, that Lucy.  &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;"Well she was!"  he insists.  "She had a seizure at home so I threw her in the car and drove her up here!  It scared me!"&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(102, 102, 102);"&gt;You threw her in the car?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt; I was thinking.  &lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(102, 102, 102);"&gt;How on God's green Earth did you do that alone? &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(102, 102, 102); font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Finally his wife pipes up, "Oh yes, I had a seizure.  I'm so lethargic now.  I just can barely stand up honey.  You'll have to help me out of the car."&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Um....... I call a bullshit. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;"No ma'am.  You'll have to get into this chair on your own.  I've got a bad back."&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Up she pops and flops down into the chair.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;"OK dear, you better hurry and get me in there because I feel another seizure coming on."&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Oh Dear God.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Lucy and I escort her back to Exam 2 and get her onto a stretcher.  She pulls out her cell phone and calls her daughter as I'm trying to obtain her history.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;"Sarah?  Sarah?  You better come up to the ER.  It's your mommy honey.  I can feel a seizure coming on and they have me in the ER.  Hurry baby, hurry!"&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Oh for Christ's Sake.  Insert eye roll here.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I hooked her up to the monitor and got her vitals.  I finished her history and went out to talk to Dr. Q.  It was right about this time that her daughter showed up.  She walked into her mother's room and within 10 seconds was out in the hallway screaming "MY MOTHER IS HAVING A SEIZURE!  HELP ME!"&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;So Lucy and I leisurely make our way to her room.  By leisurely I mean we finished our bag of Peanut M&amp;amp;M's and downed the rest of our Diet Cokes.  We then scratched our butts and walked over there.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Now before you give me the whole uneducated attitude of "GASP!  What a shitty nurse.  Why would you not RUN?  Run, Forest Run!  That poor lady is having a seizure.", let me explain something to you........&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;This lady was having a seizure like I was winning the lottery.....&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Not happening.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I did not for one second ever think this woman truly had a seizure.  Not once did she act post-ictal.  &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Anyway - back to Exam 2.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Lucy and I walked in to the room and observed her "seizure."  And let me tell you, that's a loose word to describe this event.  I like to think that "Idiotic fake ass 3 year old fit thrower faker" would be more suitable.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Our patient's husband and daughter were standing beside her stretcher wringing their poor little hands while our patient was babbling and cooing like a baby.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I shit you not.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;She was shaking her head back and forth and saying "wah wah wah bah bah bah momma momma dadda dadda wah wah wah bah bah" over and over.  And over.   Then she started kicking her legs.   And asking for her "ba-ba".&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Oh Good Lord in Heaven above.  Help me please.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Right about that time, Dr. Q runs in to save the day.  "CT Scan STAT!"&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;"Dr Q - please observe the patient's seizure first."&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;He takes one look at her and orders a psych consult, then turns around and walks out the door.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Daddy and Sarah were not too happy with us.  "She doesn't need a psychiatrist!  She needs a doctor!  There's something wrong with her!  She probably has a tumor."&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;"It's not a tumah" I said in my best Arnold accent (points for throwing in the Terminator here).&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;"It's highly unlikely your mother has a tumor," Lucy replied.  "She is not having a seizure, she is having some type of mental event."&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;All of a sudden Mommie Dearest popped up and said "I am too having a seizure!"&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Ho Boy.  We've got ourselves a winner here Bob Barker!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;The end result of this visit was a psych consult, a discharge, and a family complaint that we did not offer her a CT Scan for her Tumah.    Two days later I was eating at our local greasy spoon when her daughter came on shift as our waitress.  Oh joy.  I got to hear her tell the guy next to us how the Hospital didn't take care of her mother and she wouldn't even take her dog there.  Well goody for you.  We don't want your dog there either.  &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/20390026-5064208765407293754?l=errn.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://errn.blogspot.com/feeds/5064208765407293754/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=20390026&amp;postID=5064208765407293754&amp;isPopup=true' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20390026/posts/default/5064208765407293754'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20390026/posts/default/5064208765407293754'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://errn.blogspot.com/2009/06/its-not-tumah-its-not.html' title='It&apos;s Not A Tumah!  It&apos;s Not!'/><author><name>Julie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02449209908197785539</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='12' src='http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v55/obliviousmama/ERRN.gif'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20390026.post-2367226420429277645</id><published>2009-08-25T09:44:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2009-08-25T09:44:17.091-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>Dear Mr Resident:  way to smack down the haughty x ray tech.  I&amp;#39;m very proud of you.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/20390026-2367226420429277645?l=errn.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://errn.blogspot.com/feeds/2367226420429277645/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=20390026&amp;postID=2367226420429277645&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20390026/posts/default/2367226420429277645'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20390026/posts/default/2367226420429277645'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://errn.blogspot.com/2009/08/dear-mr-resident-way-to-smack-down.html' title=''/><author><name>Julie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02449209908197785539</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='12' src='http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v55/obliviousmama/ERRN.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20390026.post-5277499828608650428</id><published>2009-07-31T12:12:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2009-07-31T12:12:56.728-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;p class="mobile-photo"&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_36HeNbICT9w/SnNCODHZk5I/AAAAAAAAAC8/VlXZZSIysGE/s1600-h/0731091206_01-776730.jpg"&gt;&lt;img src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_36HeNbICT9w/SnNCODHZk5I/AAAAAAAAAC8/VlXZZSIysGE/s320/0731091206_01-776730.jpg"  border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5364704390250337170" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;At class.  I&amp;#39;m cracking up listening to the med students sitting beside me discussing how much  they know.  I&amp;#39;m also getting an ear full about how much nurses suck.   they obviously don&amp;#39;t know as much as they think they do or they&amp;#39;d know nurses will save their asses through med school and fix their mistakes.   Oh preach on dear med students.  Preach on.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/20390026-5277499828608650428?l=errn.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://errn.blogspot.com/feeds/5277499828608650428/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=20390026&amp;postID=5277499828608650428&amp;isPopup=true' title='5 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20390026/posts/default/5277499828608650428'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20390026/posts/default/5277499828608650428'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://errn.blogspot.com/2009/07/at-class.html' title=''/><author><name>Julie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02449209908197785539</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='12' src='http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v55/obliviousmama/ERRN.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_36HeNbICT9w/SnNCODHZk5I/AAAAAAAAAC8/VlXZZSIysGE/s72-c/0731091206_01-776730.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>5</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20390026.post-3577283615021289134</id><published>2009-07-31T12:05:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2009-07-31T12:05:07.866-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;p class="mobile-photo"&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_36HeNbICT9w/SnNAYxUIWII/AAAAAAAAAC0/JbVG9qm4UkA/s1600-h/0730091615_01-707867.jpg"&gt;&lt;img src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_36HeNbICT9w/SnNAYxUIWII/AAAAAAAAAC0/JbVG9qm4UkA/s320/0730091615_01-707867.jpg"  border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5364702375427201154" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;This is my Tom Tom.  Cell phone on my shoulder, pen in hand, writing as i drive.  I&amp;#39;m gonna end up one of my own patients.  Stupid stupid nurse.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/20390026-3577283615021289134?l=errn.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://errn.blogspot.com/feeds/3577283615021289134/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=20390026&amp;postID=3577283615021289134&amp;isPopup=true' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20390026/posts/default/3577283615021289134'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20390026/posts/default/3577283615021289134'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://errn.blogspot.com/2009/07/this-is-my-tom-tom.html' title=''/><author><name>Julie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02449209908197785539</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='12' src='http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v55/obliviousmama/ERRN.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_36HeNbICT9w/SnNAYxUIWII/AAAAAAAAAC0/JbVG9qm4UkA/s72-c/0730091615_01-707867.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20390026.post-3273306303374059106</id><published>2009-07-30T13:33:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2009-07-30T13:33:33.857-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;p class="mobile-photo"&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_36HeNbICT9w/SnIDnWtjRJI/AAAAAAAAACs/yRDbbEjWmYQ/s1600-h/0730091330_01-713858.jpg"&gt;&lt;img src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_36HeNbICT9w/SnIDnWtjRJI/AAAAAAAAACs/yRDbbEjWmYQ/s320/0730091330_01-713858.jpg"  border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5364354080798098578" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;On my way to ATCN&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/20390026-3273306303374059106?l=errn.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://errn.blogspot.com/feeds/3273306303374059106/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=20390026&amp;postID=3273306303374059106&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20390026/posts/default/3273306303374059106'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20390026/posts/default/3273306303374059106'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://errn.blogspot.com/2009/07/on-my-way-to-atcn.html' title=''/><author><name>Julie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02449209908197785539</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='12' src='http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v55/obliviousmama/ERRN.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_36HeNbICT9w/SnIDnWtjRJI/AAAAAAAAACs/yRDbbEjWmYQ/s72-c/0730091330_01-713858.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20390026.post-8971442863937925599</id><published>2009-07-27T21:26:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2009-07-27T21:26:02.314-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;p class="mobile-photo"&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_36HeNbICT9w/Sm592sxM9TI/AAAAAAAAACk/W8V_buEmyYQ/s1600-h/0726091530_01-762315.jpg"&gt;&lt;img src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_36HeNbICT9w/Sm592sxM9TI/AAAAAAAAACk/W8V_buEmyYQ/s320/0726091530_01-762315.jpg"  border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5363362584928777522" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;It was a four pen day&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/20390026-8971442863937925599?l=errn.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://errn.blogspot.com/feeds/8971442863937925599/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=20390026&amp;postID=8971442863937925599&amp;isPopup=true' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20390026/posts/default/8971442863937925599'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20390026/posts/default/8971442863937925599'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://errn.blogspot.com/2009/07/it-was-four-pen-day.html' title=''/><author><name>Julie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02449209908197785539</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='12' src='http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v55/obliviousmama/ERRN.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_36HeNbICT9w/Sm592sxM9TI/AAAAAAAAACk/W8V_buEmyYQ/s72-c/0726091530_01-762315.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20390026.post-5460859704100697267</id><published>2009-06-06T13:29:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-06-06T13:31:27.481-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Busy Beavers</title><content type='html'>The ER has been busy this morning.  My first break into my 12 hour shift has occurred at precisely 6.5 hours into the shift.  Haven't sat down until now.  Not to bad actually.  We shall see what the rest of the day holds when I walk back out the doors into the mayhem.  &lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/20390026-5460859704100697267?l=errn.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://errn.blogspot.com/feeds/5460859704100697267/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=20390026&amp;postID=5460859704100697267&amp;isPopup=true' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20390026/posts/default/5460859704100697267'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20390026/posts/default/5460859704100697267'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://errn.blogspot.com/2009/06/busy-beavers.html' title='Busy Beavers'/><author><name>Julie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02449209908197785539</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='12' src='http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v55/obliviousmama/ERRN.gif'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20390026.post-8466830312106577079</id><published>2009-06-01T22:55:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-06-01T22:57:01.964-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Paranoid Much?</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: georgia;"&gt;My CNO followed me around on and off for a few hours today.  Listened to me talking to patients, watched my technique on quite a few things.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Wonder what the stars hold for me now.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Key Music.....................&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I always feel like&lt;br /&gt;Somebody's watchin' me....&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/20390026-8466830312106577079?l=errn.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://errn.blogspot.com/feeds/8466830312106577079/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=20390026&amp;postID=8466830312106577079&amp;isPopup=true' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20390026/posts/default/8466830312106577079'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20390026/posts/default/8466830312106577079'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://errn.blogspot.com/2009/06/paranoid-much.html' title='Paranoid Much?'/><author><name>Julie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02449209908197785539</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='12' src='http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v55/obliviousmama/ERRN.gif'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20390026.post-7489756302444513330</id><published>2009-05-30T10:43:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-05-30T11:10:22.404-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='injuries from seatbelts'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='seatbelt'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='injuries in car wreck'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='airbags'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='injuries from airbags'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='proper use of seatbelts'/><title type='text'>Oh!  To Be Restrained!</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: georgia;"&gt;Remember when you were in high school and some group came in and put on one of those classes about car wrecks and tried to scare you into submission regarding wearing your seatbelt and following traffic laws to keep you safe?  Yeah? &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Well, that's me now.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I do a class every quarter for our local court system called T&lt;a href="http://www.legacyhealth.org/body.cfm?id=414&amp;amp;fr=true"&gt;rauma Nurses Talk Tough&lt;/a&gt;.  It was originally founded and developed by a group of nurses at my former workplace - Legacy Emanuel Hospital in Portland, Oregon.  It's an amazing program.  The studies/analysis/review on it have shown that it truly does make an impact on some of the kiddos that go through it.  There are different programs designed for each age group of kids ranging from Kindergarten through Senior Year.  It also has specifically arranged classes for high risk drivers, seatbelt violaters, etc.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;One of the main points I hit on in the older age groups is wearing your seatbelt properly.  So many people do not know how to properly wear a seatbelt.  They think if you just have it clicked and somewhat arranged over the front of your body, then all is well.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You people are wrong!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A guy I took care of in the ER once told me he never wears a seatbelt because "Dude, they cause more harm than they prevent.  My buddy broke his back wearing a seatbelt and now I don't wear one.  I don't want my damn back broken."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Let us discuss.......&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Improperly worn seatbelts cause injuries.  Improperly worn.........dude.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://officersmith.blogspot.com/"&gt;Officer Smith&lt;/a&gt; also talks about this on a &lt;a href="http://officersmith.blogspot.com/2009/05/like-buckle-up-for-safety-and-stuff.html"&gt;recent blog post&lt;/a&gt; of his.  It is not OK to put the shoulder portion of the belt under your arm or behind your back.  It's not fun for a person to deal with the effects of broken ribs, a pneumothorax, lacerated liver, lacerated spleen, ruptured bowel, broken back, etc.  These are just a few of the injuries you can receive from wearing your seatbelt improperly.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Another important point:  Do not sleep with your head against the seatbelt and do not recline your seat and sleep in a car.  Reclining seats are &lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 0, 0);"&gt;stupid&lt;/span&gt;.  Shall I repeat this for my hard of hearing readers?  &lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 0, 0);"&gt;Reclining your seat in a car is STUPID!&lt;/span&gt;  I don't know why car manufacturers even give us the ability to recline.  If you are reclining in your seat and have your seatbelt on, you can slip UNDER the seat belt in a crash and have horrible injuries from this (or even dun, dun, dun.......die).   You can also get your head caught up in the seat belt in this position (and also when you are sleeping, laying your head against the seatbelt) and have a neck fracture resulting in paralysis. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This my friends, is not fun.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;If the lap belt is not properly positioned you can also have major injuries.  Many people like to wear it up over their belly.  This  is a big No No!  Abdominal injuries, paralysis, and groin lacerations - oh my!  The lap belt should be properly positioned across your hips.  If you are pregnant, then under your belly and across your hips/pelvis area.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;They have also found that kids raised in a rural environment are more likely to fall asleep at the wheel when they hit driving age.  Why, you ask?  Funny you should ask that, because I happen to have the answer.  Amazing how life works, isn't it?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Rural families often drive long distances to get anywhere.  Ask me how I know this......Our town is 2 hours from anywhere.  So back to the topic......Rural families often drive foreeeeeeeever to get to their next destination.  Mom and Pop encourage the kiddos to "take a little nap" during the drive.  Thus, kids learn at a young age to sleep in a car and become accustomed to that.    They think this leads to the body being more apt to fall asleep at the wheel because it is not trained to maintain alertness when driving.  Kinda weird how things work, huh?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: georgia;"&gt;So sit upright, make sure you are alert, seatbelt properly across your shoulder, lap belt properly across your hips and you have a much better chance of not receiving injuries in a crash.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: georgia;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Oh and one more thing!  10 and 2 o'clock hand position no longer applies.  Try 9 and 3 o'clock.  The former position is shown to have more injuries now related from the expelling of the gas with airbags.  Burns and fractures of hands/wrists.  Reeducate yourselves to the 9 and 3 position to decrease those injuries.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;OK Class.......Lecture over.   There will be pop quiz on this.  Get out your papers and pens.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/20390026-7489756302444513330?l=errn.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://errn.blogspot.com/feeds/7489756302444513330/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=20390026&amp;postID=7489756302444513330&amp;isPopup=true' title='13 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20390026/posts/default/7489756302444513330'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20390026/posts/default/7489756302444513330'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://errn.blogspot.com/2009/05/oh-to-be-restrained.html' title='Oh!  To Be Restrained!'/><author><name>Julie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02449209908197785539</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='12' src='http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v55/obliviousmama/ERRN.gif'/></author><thr:total>13</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20390026.post-4403024004551134711</id><published>2009-05-24T20:49:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-05-24T21:04:08.357-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='not much else'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='whack my fanny'/><title type='text'>Oh Pish Posh Applesauce</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;What a whiner!  I re-read my last post and even I thought I was a big ole' crybaby.  Buck up Julie!  Toughen up and quit crying in your beer.  I get irritated with people at work when they verbalize shit like that, and look at me - I did the same.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Well bend me over and whack my fanny with a wet noodle.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Wait, maybe I should save that one for my man.  It could be fun.......right?  NOT THAT I'M COMPARING YOUR WILLY TO A WET NOODLE DAVID!  Seriously.  Truly.  I'm not.  Um hmm.  Nope, not at all.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I was slammed in the ER on Saturday.  Lot's of little things, nothing really big or eventful which is surprising for a holiday weekend.  Didn't even have a wreck until this evening.  Weird, isn't it?  Is the moon traveling out on a different track or something?  Spinning a bit off course?    Who knows.  But apparently the man in the moon isn't talkin'. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My man is gone for the weekend,  water skiing without me.  Can you believe the gall of that man?  He leaves me behind and goes and has fun in the water without me?!?  Pashaw I say.  Pashaw.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Of course, it COULDN'T have had anything to do with the fact that I had to work all weekend.  Nah...... couldn't be that. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/20390026-4403024004551134711?l=errn.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://errn.blogspot.com/feeds/4403024004551134711/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=20390026&amp;postID=4403024004551134711&amp;isPopup=true' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20390026/posts/default/4403024004551134711'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20390026/posts/default/4403024004551134711'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://errn.blogspot.com/2009/05/oh-pish-posh-applesauce.html' title='Oh Pish Posh Applesauce'/><author><name>Julie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02449209908197785539</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='12' src='http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v55/obliviousmama/ERRN.gif'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20390026.post-3022790414485782941</id><published>2009-05-11T14:56:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-05-11T15:06:10.905-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Ramblings....</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: verdana;"&gt;I worked on Mother's Day and we were busy as hell.  Truly though, is hell busy?  Are they all down there slaving away and constantly busy?  Or is it just sluggish monotonous work?  Hopefully I won't find out, though I'm heading down a path that will probably take me there. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;12:23 PM the firestorm started, and it never stopped.  When I left they were still filing through the door, limping with their broken limbs or clutching their chests.  We were 2 nurses short and one of the nurses that was there felt it was her job to sit on her ass doing nothing.  Now THAT's always a good time right there. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We're losing a couple of our nurses over the next few months but our manager doesn't know it yet.  It will be interesting to see how our staffing shapes up by September.  These are &lt;span style="color: rgb(102, 0, 204);"&gt;good&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);"&gt; nurses too and they will be sorely missed. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We're receiving email after email telling us that we need to change this or that, changing policies, implementing new QI measurements, etc.  It would be great to have one week - just one week - with zero changes and zero emails telling us we suck.  It would be great to hear "WAY TO GO GUYS!" every so often.  I wonder what other careers there are where you get to go to work everyday and get beaten down?  Hmmmm.......  Anyone?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I still love my job though.  I love working in the ER and I love taking care of patients.  It is such a rewarding field in that aspect.  I love learning about people and finding out where they come from related to life lessons. &lt;br /&gt;Maybe I just need a vacation.  Sign me up!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/20390026-3022790414485782941?l=errn.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://errn.blogspot.com/feeds/3022790414485782941/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=20390026&amp;postID=3022790414485782941&amp;isPopup=true' title='8 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20390026/posts/default/3022790414485782941'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20390026/posts/default/3022790414485782941'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://errn.blogspot.com/2009/05/ramblings.html' title='Ramblings....'/><author><name>Julie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02449209908197785539</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='12' src='http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v55/obliviousmama/ERRN.gif'/></author><thr:total>8</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20390026.post-8000771446337266970</id><published>2009-05-11T14:55:00.003-07:00</published><updated>2009-05-11T14:55:54.724-07:00</updated><title type='text'>I am a blogging loser</title><content type='html'>Yes I know.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You don't have to say it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sigh..............................&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/20390026-8000771446337266970?l=errn.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://errn.blogspot.com/feeds/8000771446337266970/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=20390026&amp;postID=8000771446337266970&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20390026/posts/default/8000771446337266970'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20390026/posts/default/8000771446337266970'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://errn.blogspot.com/2009/05/i-am-blogging-loser.html' title='I am a blogging loser'/><author><name>Julie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02449209908197785539</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='12' src='http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v55/obliviousmama/ERRN.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20390026.post-4403162249817303880</id><published>2009-03-05T19:10:00.001-08:00</published><updated>2009-03-05T19:13:36.474-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Simple Thoughts From A Simple Mind</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: verdana;"&gt;If you are a veterinarian, do not tell me you are a medical doctor when your son is a patient in my ER.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Dude.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Seriously. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm not stupid and I WILL figure it out.  Rather quickly too.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;(Nothing against veterinarians here.  Don't get your panties in a twist.)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 0, 0);"&gt;NEXT!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;If you have admittedly stolen funds from your place of employment and then you are magically promoted............. you gotta be blowin' somebody. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Just sayin'.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/20390026-4403162249817303880?l=errn.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://errn.blogspot.com/feeds/4403162249817303880/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=20390026&amp;postID=4403162249817303880&amp;isPopup=true' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20390026/posts/default/4403162249817303880'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20390026/posts/default/4403162249817303880'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://errn.blogspot.com/2009/03/simple-thoughts-from-simple-mind.html' title='Simple Thoughts From A Simple Mind'/><author><name>Julie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02449209908197785539</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='12' src='http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v55/obliviousmama/ERRN.gif'/></author><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20390026.post-6086493702063174479</id><published>2009-03-05T17:38:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-03-05T17:55:06.161-08:00</updated><title type='text'>The Boys in Blue</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: verdana;"&gt;I found a new blog when I was surfing around tonight.  Actually, I found a few new ones.  I'm having a lot of fun reading the police blogs and looking at things from their point of view (which is often shared by little ol' me).&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: verdana;"&gt;One of the blog posts caught my eye.  The officer at &lt;/span&gt;&lt;a style="font-family: verdana;" href="http://copnattitude.blogspot.com/"&gt;Cop 'n Attitude&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: verdana;"&gt; wrote about &lt;/span&gt;&lt;a style="font-family: verdana;" href="http://copnattitude.blogspot.com/2009/02/writing-tickets-on-doctors-and-nurses.html"&gt;Ticketing Doctors and Nurses&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: verdana;"&gt;.    I must say that I am thoroughly embarrassed to be associated with the people in this story.  They were complete and total assholes.  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: verdana;"&gt;That being said, I must admit my downfall.   I am a speeder.  Oh how I love to push that gas pedal down to the floor.  50 in a35?  Not a problem for me.  It is a problem for the local boys in blue though.  I constantly get appropriate lectures from them when they are in the ER (and they are the BEST smart asses in the world, better than me which is a near impossible feat).   I've been pulled over by a few of them, getting put through the verbal wringer, and they are right - every time.  I'm trying to do better, I truly am.  It's a hard habit to break though.  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: verdana;"&gt;But I must say with 100% conviction, I have NEVER used my position to get out of a ticket.  Never.  My father is an officer (the Chief in fact), my ex was an officer, one of my best friends is an officer.  I know the shit they have to deal with.  I know how people can be complete and total jerks.  I also know that being nice and respectable goes a long way.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: verdana;"&gt;Honestly though, many of us medical professionals do get a "PASS" from Law Enforcement.   Living in a small town we get it more often.  Do we deserve it?  Not really......... but we're all a team.  Is that an excuse?  No.   It just is what it is.   We all see each other quite often carrying out the duties of our jobs and that develops into a relationship that is truly unique.   &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: verdana;"&gt;We see them bringing in an out of control schizophrenic who has been threatening people on the street.  We see them helping us restrain someone who is trying to harm themselves or others.  We see them with broken hands, broken ankles, or God-forbid - Gunshot wounds.   They see us dripping with sweat trying to resuscitate the 10 year old who was ejected from the car during the rollover.  They see us telling wives that their husbands didn't survive the wreck even though we did everything we could.  They see us helping out their buddies when they've been injured.  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: verdana;"&gt;We all see that we share the same sense of humor to deal with the horrors and stress of our jobs.  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: verdana;"&gt;And they take the doughnut jokes really well, too.  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/20390026-6086493702063174479?l=errn.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://errn.blogspot.com/feeds/6086493702063174479/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=20390026&amp;postID=6086493702063174479&amp;isPopup=true' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20390026/posts/default/6086493702063174479'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20390026/posts/default/6086493702063174479'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://errn.blogspot.com/2009/03/boys-in-blue.html' title='The Boys in Blue'/><author><name>Julie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02449209908197785539</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='12' src='http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v55/obliviousmama/ERRN.gif'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20390026.post-4685902222070625279</id><published>2009-03-05T16:58:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-03-05T17:14:13.955-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Seriously, Dude......Don't</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;For all of you out there who want to know when you should go to the ER, let me help you out.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You should go to the ER when................&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You are dying.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Or close to it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;DO NOT, I repeat, DO NOT come to the ER for the following (or the nurse and the physician will not only think you are an idiot, but also bitch about how it is single handedly your fault that the medical system is in the shambles it is in):&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;ol&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;Runny nose that just started this morning.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;Fever that just started this morning.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;Cough that just started this morning.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;In fact, any cold symptoms at all - just wait it out.  Seriously.  We're not going to help you.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;The flu - stay away.  You're going to contaminate everyone else and there is nothing we can do for you.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;A tiny little scratch on your finger&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;A tiny little cut on your finger (ever heard of applying pressure?  And by pressure I mean actually pressing down on the area for more than 10 seconds)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;Back pain you've been having for a few weeks.  GO TO YOUR CLINIC DOCTOR.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;A cough you've had for a few weeks.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;Anything that has lasted for a few weeks -  GO TO YOUR CLINIC DOCTOR.  It is obviously NOT an emergency since you've lived through it for the last 21 days.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;Your 2 year old that is pulling on his ear on a Wednesday night.  Wait until the morning and go to your clinic doctor.  Tylenol - it's a good thing.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;Your 2 year old with a rash which he's had for a few days.  Or even a rash he's had for a few hours.  It......can.....wait.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;Ankle pain after falling off a porch and twisting the darn thing.  If you can walk in, you don't need to be seen.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;/ol&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;I know there are plenty more, that's just a few from my last day at work.  I constantly shake my head in wonder at the very idea that people think they need to come to the ER for these things.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And before all you people start jumping on me about the .0000005% rare instances of some wild and crazy disease or near fatal instance of your child/niece/nephew/brother/sister/husband/mother/&lt;br /&gt;father/dog/cat/parokeet in the above scenarios - just know this............ we're not gonna catch those either.  And if we do, it's plainly a miracle from God.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/20390026-4685902222070625279?l=errn.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://errn.blogspot.com/feeds/4685902222070625279/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=20390026&amp;postID=4685902222070625279&amp;isPopup=true' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20390026/posts/default/4685902222070625279'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20390026/posts/default/4685902222070625279'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://errn.blogspot.com/2009/03/seriously-dudedont.html' title='Seriously, Dude......Don&apos;t'/><author><name>Julie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02449209908197785539</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='12' src='http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v55/obliviousmama/ERRN.gif'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20390026.post-8469072357661753228</id><published>2009-02-14T21:36:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-02-14T21:39:24.780-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Scrubalicious</title><content type='html'>So the powers that be finally decided we can have a little variety in our scrubs at work.  By variety, I mean same color - but different companies.  So even though that may not seem like much of a choice, it's all the freedom in the world to those of us who have been stuck in a repressive sea of green for 5 years. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I think I'll shop &lt;a href="http://www.scrubsgallery.com/"&gt;HERE.&lt;/a&gt;   Scrubs Gallery dot com.  New sponsor and some pretty good prices to boot. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now off to find some more green scrubs.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/20390026-8469072357661753228?l=errn.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://errn.blogspot.com/feeds/8469072357661753228/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=20390026&amp;postID=8469072357661753228&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20390026/posts/default/8469072357661753228'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20390026/posts/default/8469072357661753228'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://errn.blogspot.com/2009/02/scrubalicious.html' title='Scrubalicious'/><author><name>Julie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02449209908197785539</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='12' src='http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v55/obliviousmama/ERRN.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20390026.post-6454481838491826995</id><published>2009-02-10T01:30:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-02-10T01:49:58.200-08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Buckcherry'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Saving Abel'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Portland'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Papa Roach'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Avenged Sevenfold'/><title type='text'>Life as a Groupie</title><content type='html'>Meandered my way to Portland for a concert this past weekend.   Saving Abel, Papa Roach, Buckcherry, and Avenged Sevenfold.  I do believe the man and I were the oldest ones there.  Grandma and Grandpa in the house.  LOL.  It's sad when you're old in your mid 30's.  &lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;It was a great night though.  3 young 'uns carried out on stretchers.  Such is the life of over-chemicalized children.  One of the situations made me laugh (call me a bitch, call me evil, call me to dinner - whatever suits your fancy).  Picture the scene - loud rock music, screaming fans, one young girl laying on the ground........her friends franticly trying to administer CPR. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;She was drunk.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;And awake.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;But apparently CPR was called for.  Who knew?&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Hey - at least they knew to check her airway.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;The concert was actually pretty good.  Saving Abel was impressive.  Personable.  &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Papa Roach - gained a new fan here.  What &lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(255, 0, 0);"&gt;great&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt; entertainers.  Never really listened to them before this but I immediately became a fan.  Good crowd interaction, great energy.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Buckcherry - sadly a bit disappointing.  This group is why I went to the concert.  I love Buckcherry.  But apparently, I don't love them live.  They were......okay......but reserved.  Minimal crowd interaction and they seemed rushed.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Avenged Sevenfold - ack.  Had to leave.  It was all screaming.  Minimal entertainment (besides the second girl who was carried out of the pit by her friends).  Even the 4 or 5 Coors Light couldn't keep me interested.  Ah well, I suppose I am getting old.   I do love the song "Dear God."  Stayed for that then took the back door back to the hotel.  &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;It was a good mini-vacation for this old haggard woman.  Snort.  God, being surrounded by high school kids makes you feel old really fast.   I need to get my ass to the spa for a seaweed wrap and a mud bath.  Maybe that'll strip a few years off this aging body.  Aw screw it.  I think a few shots of Crown and a six pack of Coors Light will cure what ails me.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Busy day at work today.  Rollovers, cardiacs, abdominal pains, and foreign objects &lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(102, 0, 204);"&gt;unintentionall&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;y inserted into orifices.   Seriously people - if it doesn't have a handle, don't stick it in there.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;And with that I'm done.  &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/20390026-6454481838491826995?l=errn.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://errn.blogspot.com/feeds/6454481838491826995/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=20390026&amp;postID=6454481838491826995&amp;isPopup=true' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20390026/posts/default/6454481838491826995'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20390026/posts/default/6454481838491826995'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://errn.blogspot.com/2009/02/life-as-groupie.html' title='Life as a Groupie'/><author><name>Julie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02449209908197785539</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='12' src='http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v55/obliviousmama/ERRN.gif'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20390026.post-5184666924535564493</id><published>2009-01-25T12:04:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-01-25T12:08:15.603-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Liar Liar Pants On Fire</title><content type='html'>If you come to the ER weighing 82 pounds at the age of 48, skin the color of freshly bloomed daffodils, vomiting blood, have a heart rate of 140, a blood pressure of 138/79, and have tremors so bad that you can't hold a cup without dropping it - I will not believe you when you tell me you do not drink alcohol on a regular basis.  I will prove you wrong when the labs come back and your ETOH level is .280. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Don't go there. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Truth - it's a good thing.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/20390026-5184666924535564493?l=errn.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://errn.blogspot.com/feeds/5184666924535564493/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=20390026&amp;postID=5184666924535564493&amp;isPopup=true' title='7 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20390026/posts/default/5184666924535564493'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20390026/posts/default/5184666924535564493'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://errn.blogspot.com/2009/01/liar-liar-pants-on-fire.html' title='Liar Liar Pants On Fire'/><author><name>Julie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02449209908197785539</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='12' src='http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v55/obliviousmama/ERRN.gif'/></author><thr:total>7</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20390026.post-8692726265211479191</id><published>2009-01-25T11:52:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-01-25T12:23:12.751-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Foul Language</title><content type='html'>I got a comment on another post basically saying that I cuss too much.  So I read back through my posts from the beginning and I will have to say she was right.  The question remains though - will I change?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Probably not.  I work in an environment where cussing is a native language.   I don't know a single one of my co-worker who has not uttered a foul word, even the "good girls."  We are faced with people cussing us out almost on a daily basis because we won't give in to their demands for pain pills, work excuses, or other things.  We get cussed out by people who have no medical training telling us that we are doing our job wrong.  We get called bitches, fuckers, and the Queen of the mean - c.u.n.t.   Why?  Because we care.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We come to work ready to save lives, dress wounds, set broken bones, run our butts off all for the sake of getting called names when one person is unhappy because their morphine shot had to wait until we were done with CPR in the next room.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Are these valid excuses?  Not really.  But I tell you one thing.  You will never catch me cussing at a patient or their family members.  Never.  I may cuss all day long on my little blog-a-roo here, but I will be respectful and professional with you if you are seeing me as a patient.  I will probably continue my use of shit and such here, but I suppose that will expose you (my 12 readers) to the world I work in every day that I put those scrubs on my butt.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Welcome to the ER....... it's the place to be.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/20390026-8692726265211479191?l=errn.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://errn.blogspot.com/feeds/8692726265211479191/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=20390026&amp;postID=8692726265211479191&amp;isPopup=true' title='10 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20390026/posts/default/8692726265211479191'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20390026/posts/default/8692726265211479191'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://errn.blogspot.com/2009/01/foul-language.html' title='Foul Language'/><author><name>Julie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02449209908197785539</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='12' src='http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v55/obliviousmama/ERRN.gif'/></author><thr:total>10</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20390026.post-7027864561188032995</id><published>2009-01-19T13:53:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-01-19T14:24:07.833-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Linkylooloo</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.emergiblog.com/2009/01/change-we-can-live-with.html"&gt;This&lt;/a&gt; post over at Emergiblog got me all fascinated and such.  She makes some great points about ideas for health care for our new President.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I love it when someone can speak my mind better than I can.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Loved &lt;a href="http://docsurg.blogspot.com/2009/01/four-horsemen-of-trauma-death.html"&gt;this&lt;/a&gt; one also.  It is an amazing play by play of a trauma death.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And &lt;a href="http://atfootofthecross.blogspot.com/2009/01/women.html"&gt;THIS&lt;/a&gt; video over at Mel's blog made me tear up.  It's an amazing testament to the strength of women and their friendships. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/20390026-7027864561188032995?l=errn.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://errn.blogspot.com/feeds/7027864561188032995/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=20390026&amp;postID=7027864561188032995&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20390026/posts/default/7027864561188032995'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20390026/posts/default/7027864561188032995'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://errn.blogspot.com/2009/01/linkylooloo.html' title='Linkylooloo'/><author><name>Julie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02449209908197785539</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='12' src='http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v55/obliviousmama/ERRN.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20390026.post-205828761278087071</id><published>2009-01-19T13:21:00.001-08:00</published><updated>2009-01-19T13:44:00.546-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Yeah, Sorry.</title><content type='html'>I&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: verdana;"&gt; suck.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: verdana;"&gt;At Blogging anyway.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: verdana;"&gt;The past 2 months have been extremely difficult at work.  Actually the last 4 or 5 months have been.  Too many changes, too many cooks stirring the soup.  Getting emotionally punched in the face every few days by someone you used to be very close with but who now feels the urge to "take you down" takes it's toll.   A new job is sounding better and better.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: verdana;"&gt;Enough of my useless prattle.  Onward and upward they say!  I just don't say it with them today.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: verdana;"&gt;16 year old drug into the ER by her parents.  She is visibily shaking in Triage.  I can see her heart pounding through her chest.  Heart rate about 160, respiratory rate about 40.  Glassy eyed, scared shitless.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: verdana;"&gt;"Emily says she took something but she won't tell us what," Mom says.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: verdana;"&gt;After an extensive workup we found............................. nothing.  Nothing popped positive on the drug screen.  No weird labs.  Just crazy vital signs.  Was she just nervous?  Did she take something else that we can't test for?  Salvia came to mind.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: verdana;"&gt;"Can I have some ice cream on my toes for my trip to Maine?" Emily asked.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: verdana;"&gt;Um....................... huh?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: verdana;"&gt;"I need some tiles for my eyes on Canada."&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: verdana;"&gt;What the hell?  She is as confused as Grandma Mabel - who thinks it's 1812 and that she's a man fighting in the war. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: verdana;"&gt;Little Emily gets admitted for a few nights stay at our overpriced hotel.  I came back a few days later to check on her and they finally figured out what she took.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: verdana;"&gt;Hold on - are you ready?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: verdana;"&gt;Dramamine.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: verdana;"&gt;Yep, you heard me right.  Who knew?  I've never had anyone come in that took Dramamine to try to get high.  Holy crap.  These kids will take anything.  Do they not understand that almost anything can kill you if you take enough of it?  I think they finally figured out that she took about 7 or 8 tablets. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: verdana;"&gt;***********************************************************&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: verdana;"&gt;I've been taking practice tests for my CEN (certified emergency nurse) exam.  Apparently they were designed to make you feel like the dumbest nurse on earth.  The other night our crew sat down and did them all together, reading the questions out loud and discussing them.  We argued with the book many times on the correct answer.  Is that a sign that we might not be right in the head? &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: verdana;"&gt;"Oh bullshit!  That is not the first thing you would do for that patient."&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: verdana;"&gt;"What a load of crap.  Who wrote these questions?"&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: verdana;"&gt;"Close the book and let's go get chocolate!"&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: verdana;"&gt;Yeah, I like the last one.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: verdana;"&gt;***********************************************************&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: verdana;"&gt;I've found my nursing soul mate.  One of our night shift nurses moved to day shift and I'm finding that we work wonderfully together.   I can read her like a book.  We argue like sisters about practically everything, but when it comes down to the knitty gritty, we don't even have to speak.  We get it all done for the code/trauma with little fussing and only relevant communication.    We can briskly shout commands to each other without getting offended, which is the absolute frosting on the cake.  I lubs her and she's my favorite team member now.  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: verdana;"&gt;OK, I'll try to jump back on the blogging bandwagon, but I can't make any promises.  My internet time lately has been limited to hours on Facebook and shaking my head at some of the responses on AllNurses.com.  We'll see how it goes.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/20390026-205828761278087071?l=errn.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://errn.blogspot.com/feeds/205828761278087071/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=20390026&amp;postID=205828761278087071&amp;isPopup=true' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20390026/posts/default/205828761278087071'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20390026/posts/default/205828761278087071'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://errn.blogspot.com/2009/01/yeah-sorry.html' title='Yeah, Sorry.'/><author><name>Julie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02449209908197785539</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='12' src='http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v55/obliviousmama/ERRN.gif'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20390026.post-6799560365351357909</id><published>2008-11-21T15:34:00.001-08:00</published><updated>2008-11-21T15:36:00.996-08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='mother letters'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='The Mother Letter Project'/><title type='text'>The Mother Letters</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: verdana;"&gt;Someone linked me to this great project called &lt;/span&gt;&lt;a style="font-family: verdana;" href="http://motherletter.blogspot.com/"&gt;The Mother Letter Project&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: verdana;"&gt;I think I might write a letter and submit it.  Mine will be to a mother who wants to bring her child to the emergency room.  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: verdana;"&gt;How honest shall I be?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/20390026-6799560365351357909?l=errn.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://errn.blogspot.com/feeds/6799560365351357909/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=20390026&amp;postID=6799560365351357909&amp;isPopup=true' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20390026/posts/default/6799560365351357909'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20390026/posts/default/6799560365351357909'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://errn.blogspot.com/2008/11/mother-letters.html' title='The Mother Letters'/><author><name>Julie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02449209908197785539</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='12' src='http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v55/obliviousmama/ERRN.gif'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20390026.post-4519991146345232414</id><published>2008-11-09T07:45:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2012-01-03T15:18:34.312-08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='ER commentary'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='day in the life of an ER nurse'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='STEMI'/><title type='text'>Running Commentary of a Random Day</title><content type='html'>My first patient of the day was a STEMI (heart attack).  Busy beaver this AM.  37 years old.  Yes, you heard me right.  37.  No risk factors.  NONE.  No family history, not a smoker or drinker, eats well, exercises daily.  Therefore, I shall use this as my excuse to never exercise, eat like shit, and drink to my heart's content.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;THEN:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A gallbladder and 2 ear infections.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Do you ever find it weird that we refer to patients by their diagnosis and not their name?  Even though I do it online for privacy reasons, we still do it in real life. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Hey Lucy - can you medicate my gallbladder in Exam 2 please?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;NEXT:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Migraine (my own). &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Trauma Chart Reviews for an hour.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;TIME FOR LUNCH.&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Another chest pain after lunch, another Migraine, a Peeing blood, and abdominal pain, and a r/o labor.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then I got transferred to OB with my r/o labor and finished my shift there.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Rural Medicine is great.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/20390026-4519991146345232414?l=errn.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://errn.blogspot.com/feeds/4519991146345232414/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=20390026&amp;postID=4519991146345232414&amp;isPopup=true' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20390026/posts/default/4519991146345232414'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20390026/posts/default/4519991146345232414'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://errn.blogspot.com/2008/11/running-commentary_09.html' title='Running Commentary of a Random Day'/><author><name>Julie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02449209908197785539</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='12' src='http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v55/obliviousmama/ERRN.gif'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20390026.post-3354967940751798082</id><published>2008-11-07T13:18:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-11-07T13:39:30.466-08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='ER on NBC'/><title type='text'>You're Kidding Me, Right?</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: verdana;"&gt;You have to be.  You absolutely have to be, because no one in their God given right mind would think that you insert a chest tube into someone's SPLEEN - FOR SHITS SAKE! &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Phew...... got that one off my chest.  Chest.  Huh, funny.  That's where that damn tube belonged. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Dr Morris even said it!  "5th intercostal space, mid-axillary line."  That means 5 rib spaces down from your collar bone and along an invisible line that comes straight down from your armpit. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Um, yeah.  Maybe the technical advisers should have listened to the dialog (that doesn't look right  - shouldn't it be dialogue?  Nope guess not.  Spell check says I'm stupid as hell apparently. So anyway........).  As Morris is telling Chaz where the tube belongs, he meanders south about 5 inches and puts it in his abdomen.  Loser.  It's not like they couldn't have faked him putting it in the right spot - they didn't need to pretend the abdomen was the lungs.  Sheesh. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Oh!  And!  (How do you like that rule breaking sentence structure?) When the "blood" was pouring out of the chest tube area - it looked like red tinted water coming straight out of a faucet on high pressure.  Whatever.  Special effects on a tight budget all of a sudden?  Blood does not spray out continuously like a water faucet.  I know they can do this right as we've seen it before.  Apparently, the special effects peeps have either forgotten the basics of blood spurting or have become so incredibly lazy they figure the general public will believe blood sprays out just like when you're running yourself a nice, cozy, hot bath with bubbles.  Maybe they should supply us all with a glass of Chardonnay and a good book to read too. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now let's talk about the MRI incident.  Can I just call a bullshit on that one?  Granted, it was funny as hell to see a patient screaming for morphine get their due, but honestly.... the MRI techs would have NEVER let that happen since in the REAL WORLD the techs do the scans and not the doctors/interns/med students. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Moving on to Sam and Gates.  Sam gets an A+ for wanting to secure their patient's airway first.  A-B-C's.  Learn 'em.  Know 'em.  Follow 'em.  Dr. Gates obviously is dyslexic since he follows algorithms backwards.  "Naw, we don't need to worry about no stinkin' airway - let's scan his head first!  Off to the scanner troops!  Move out!"  Oopsy-daisy...... airway  needed.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And I will give a nickel to anyone who can tell me how exactly a 1% Non-Rebreather is supposed to work.  Anyone?  Anyone?  Bueller?  Mrs Bitchtastic, superheadchief of the ER, apparently has invented a new way of providing oxygen to a patient.  For all my non medical peeps out there, a NRB (non-rebreather) is usually run on 10 to 15 Liters of oxygen.  Therefore you will receive an order to "place the patient on an NRB at 15L."   Ah well - dramatic license and all, eh? &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Whatever will I do when this show is over?  Thursday nights will be so dull and boring.  No one yelling at the TV in my house.  No one cussing about portrayals of medical care on TV.  Maybe I'll just have to get drunk.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/20390026-3354967940751798082?l=errn.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://errn.blogspot.com/feeds/3354967940751798082/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=20390026&amp;postID=3354967940751798082&amp;isPopup=true' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20390026/posts/default/3354967940751798082'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20390026/posts/default/3354967940751798082'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://errn.blogspot.com/2008/11/youre-kidding-me-right.html' title='You&apos;re Kidding Me, Right?'/><author><name>Julie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02449209908197785539</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='12' src='http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v55/obliviousmama/ERRN.gif'/></author><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20390026.post-7630578647824661563</id><published>2008-11-05T21:13:00.001-08:00</published><updated>2008-11-05T21:21:36.244-08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='return of Dr Greene'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='ER on NBC'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='return of Dr Green'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='ER'/><title type='text'>Paging Dr Greene.....Paging Dr Greene - STAT!</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: verdana;"&gt;So, my prediction for the return of Dr Greene shall be as follows (and y'all know mine will be a hell of a lot more entertaining than anything they have planned anyway):&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: verdana;"&gt;Dr Greene will come back as an evil twin of the original Dr Greene, who will carry out his evil plans to become a serial killer by offing ER patients via injections of a mysteriously blue colored substance or smothering them by holding the tip of his finger over the end of the ET tube. And then good Dr Carter will come back to save the day, all the while screwing some hot nurse in the janitor's closet. But then (oh no! dun dun dun.....) Dr Carter will be trapped in the dungeon of the hospital by Evil Dr Greene who will inject him with some new bio terrorism substance that will turn Dr Carter into a Stepford Wife.  The Carter Stepford wife will then become the Evil Dr Greene's new partner between the sheets.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: verdana;"&gt;Suddenly - Sam will show up and kick the shit out of both of them before jumping out of the 5th story window and becoming a patient herself.  But alas, the Evil Dr Greene will be able to sneak into her hospital room and will pull out the mysterious blue syringe.  Just as he starts to inject the substance Neela will run in, throw her arms around Dr. Greene and say "I knew we could do it my love.  I knew we could!!!"&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: verdana;"&gt;Ack!  It's all so shocking!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/20390026-7630578647824661563?l=errn.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://errn.blogspot.com/feeds/7630578647824661563/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=20390026&amp;postID=7630578647824661563&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20390026/posts/default/7630578647824661563'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20390026/posts/default/7630578647824661563'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://errn.blogspot.com/2008/11/pagin-dr-greenepaging-dr-greene-stat.html' title='Paging Dr Greene.....Paging Dr Greene - STAT!'/><author><name>Julie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02449209908197785539</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='12' src='http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v55/obliviousmama/ERRN.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20390026.post-4016054030642205448</id><published>2008-10-20T19:10:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2008-10-20T19:15:47.611-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='ER on NBC'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='ER'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Abby'/><title type='text'>ER on NBC - Abby Leaves</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: verdana;"&gt;Abby is gone.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: verdana;"&gt;What more can I say? &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: verdana;"&gt;Sad.  It's pathetic that I feel a deep sense of loss when my favorite character leaves.  It's a TV show damn it!  A TV show!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: verdana;"&gt;I loved it when she told off the new Mrs. Mean.  I think I was partially aroused.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: verdana;"&gt;As far as medical care given, I was so distracted by the thought that this would be the last time I would see Abby that I forgive them for any and all mistakes they made.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: verdana;"&gt;Sigh....................&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: verdana;"&gt;Wine.  I need vino.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/20390026-4016054030642205448?l=errn.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://errn.blogspot.com/feeds/4016054030642205448/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=20390026&amp;postID=4016054030642205448&amp;isPopup=true' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20390026/posts/default/4016054030642205448'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20390026/posts/default/4016054030642205448'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://errn.blogspot.com/2008/10/er-on-nbc-abby-leaves.html' title='ER on NBC - Abby Leaves'/><author><name>Julie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02449209908197785539</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='12' src='http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v55/obliviousmama/ERRN.gif'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20390026.post-8090211446238996762</id><published>2008-10-19T16:05:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-10-20T19:10:08.340-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='universal health care'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Oregon Health Plan'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='medical insurance'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='ER visits'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='UHC'/><title type='text'>Let Us Discuss............... Universal Health Care</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;There is a discussion going on in a Mom's forum I belong to regarding Universal Health Care (UHC).  I am being called an asshole and repugnant because I don't believe in UHC.  Let's discuss this issue because I honestly want to know why people think it should be a Constitutional Right to have health care.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Here are my points:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I believe we should have universal EMERGENCY coverage for truly emergent situations.  I believe we should have coverage for children for preventative care (well child checks, etc) and illness/injury.  I do not believe that we should have total coverage for general health care for all adults.  I do not believe that this is a RIGHT.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I have seen government run programs (Can anyone say Oregon Health Plan?) that are so completely mismanaged and are more of a hinder to health care than anything else.  They have created a healthcare environment that promotes ER visits for non emergent reasons.  And even though the patients have to sign a waiver to agree to pay if OHP does not pick up the bill, this doesn't happen.  Our ER budget this year showed a tremendous loss of revenue related to this issue (as does every ER in the nation - ER's are pretty much always loss leaders in relation to this).  Remember people - we cannot refuse to see anyone no matter what the reason.  Now after a medical screening exam we can tell them their situation is non emergent and recommend follow up with a primary physician.  Most won't follow up anyway, and we've just wasted 1 to 2 hours of ER flow time because of this.  Therefore we have delayed care for someone else who is truly emergent and we have the need for additional staffing to tell people they don't need to be in the ER.  And people wonder why medical costs are so high.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Next, I have seen time and time again, people that do NOT follow their physician's recommendations for care of their condition (think diabetes, congestive heart failure, etc.).  Should we still help them when they are in a crisis?  Absolutely.  But we should not pay for their medical visits at a clinic if they are not willing to be cooperative with their medical care.  Yes I know there are case by case situations where this may not apply (quacky docs, new therapies, etc), but I'm referring to an in general population.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I do not believe that our current system works, but I also do not believe that UHC is the answer either.  Someone told me that Germany has a program where everyone is guaranteed emergency treatment and they have the option to buy into higher level plans if they so desire (does anyone know if this is true?).  I think this sounds like a great option.  As long as they are NOT government run.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I do believe everyone deserves good medical care - absolutely.  I just do not believe that the government should foot the bill.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Let us discuss..................&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/20390026-8090211446238996762?l=errn.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://errn.blogspot.com/feeds/8090211446238996762/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=20390026&amp;postID=8090211446238996762&amp;isPopup=true' title='10 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20390026/posts/default/8090211446238996762'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20390026/posts/default/8090211446238996762'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://errn.blogspot.com/2008/10/let-us-discuss-universeal-health-care.html' title='Let Us Discuss............... Universal Health Care'/><author><name>Julie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02449209908197785539</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='12' src='http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v55/obliviousmama/ERRN.gif'/></author><thr:total>10</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20390026.post-1511911546923811358</id><published>2008-10-15T17:13:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-10-15T17:27:59.055-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='oxygen masks'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='ER on NBC'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='asthma'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Abby'/><title type='text'>ER on NBC 2nd Show,  Last season</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;font-size:130%;"&gt;So I'm a few days late on this one.  Sue me.  No not really - I don't have anything that you'd want anyway.   You can go ahead and take my debt on if you'd like to though  (A double mortgage and some over extended credit cards because apparently Santa believes in over buying for my kids). &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;font-size:130%;"&gt;My man was bustin' my balls tonight because I hadn't posted anything about the last episode of ER.  Like I have to obey him.  Pashaw.  There's no ring on this finger.  But alas, I cannot disappoint my 3 other readers.  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;font-size:130%;"&gt;One of the only things that still sticks out in my mind is the asthma kid that was stuck in the room with the cooky ass Ricen man.  When arrogant entitled med student hoochie mama was taking care of him, he HAD NO OXYGEN ON!  When Dr Sexy John Stamos told her to turn it up to 15L she said something like "I did" but the patient had no oxygen in place.  Then presto!  Next scene, oxygen mask on.  I love the magic of TV.  You can get anything you want by just blinking your eyes and requesting a scene change.  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;font-size:130%;"&gt;Now onto Mrs. Angry New ER Manager.  Obviously she's lost someone in her family.  Is there a connection to Pratt?  I couldn't find anything online in the spoilers, but something smells funny in the kitchen.  And Morris - yeehaw!  Good for you for letting loose.  Of course, I don't know that it's a great way to endear yourself to your new boss, but hey - whatever works for you.  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;font-size:130%;"&gt;So tomorrow night Abby leaves.  WTF?  Can't she stay until the end of the season?  She rocks.  Well, maybe not so much lately with the nights of alcohol fueled sex with coworkers and irrational arguments with spouse, but she used to rock.  A med student told me once that I reminded him of Abby - I'm not so sure that's a compliment anymore.  Of course, she was still a nurse then so it was during her time of uber coolness.  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;font-size:130%;"&gt;Well off to work for the next 2 days then riding 4 wheelers all day Saturday.  Maybe I'll be a patient in my own ER.  It'd be just like TV!  I could be improperly immobilized, not have my oxygen on, an IV that goes nowhere, and a partridge in a pear tree.  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/20390026-1511911546923811358?l=errn.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://errn.blogspot.com/feeds/1511911546923811358/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=20390026&amp;postID=1511911546923811358&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20390026/posts/default/1511911546923811358'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20390026/posts/default/1511911546923811358'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://errn.blogspot.com/2008/10/er-on-nbc-2nd-show-last-season.html' title='ER on NBC 2nd Show,  Last season'/><author><name>Julie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02449209908197785539</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='12' src='http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v55/obliviousmama/ERRN.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20390026.post-2893075512389827906</id><published>2008-09-29T13:13:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2008-09-29T13:26:15.279-07:00</updated><title type='text'>A Lesson Learned</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: verdana;"&gt;I've been a nurse long enough that you'd think I could fish out the drug seekers vs those truly in need of narcotic intoxication within seconds.  I know, I know - you'd think I could.  I'd certainly think it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Apparently, we both would be wrong.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;48 y/o disheveled, dirty, matted hair, no teeth, 5 tattoos, holey clothes wearing man presents to the ER with a yelled complaint of "I need Vicodin!  Badly!"  He also happens to be holding his shoulder.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Were you injured sir?" I ask.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Yes," he replies.  "I fell over the guardrail last Thursday when I was walking along the highway by the rest area. My shoulder has been killing me ever since."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Pulses present and equal, grips equal, no numbness or tingling, cap refill brisk - flashing neon sign saying "Drug Seeker!" flashing across his forehead.  Well at least in my mind it was.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Triaged to wait a bit.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;35 y/o woman dressed in a business suit with perfect personal grooming habits and a polite demeanor presents with the complaint "I think I have another kidney stone."  She's slightly bent over and holding her left side.  She dry heaves into an emesis bag I give her and her b/p and heart rate are elevated. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"I'm sorry but I just couldn't wait to see my primary physician on Monday.  I've been dealing with the pain for 2 days now and I just couldn't take it anymore.  I'm really sorry to even have to come in."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I admit it, I was sucked in by her politeness.  It's such a foreign concept in the ER.  Seriously - someone throws us a polite bone and we jump all over it like starving dogs.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"We'll get ya back just as soon as we can." I told her.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Apparently, I am an idiot.  Yes, I am admitting it now.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The gentleman had dislocated his shoulder and it had been out of place for 3 days.  3 DAYS!  No shit he had pain, eh?  Our lovely lady friend was found to be a doc shopper and drug seeker from multiple hospitals over the ENTIRE STATE.  She'd learned the game, and she'd learned it well. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I learned a huge lesson that day.  It wasn't such a pleasant look in the mirror for me. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/20390026-2893075512389827906?l=errn.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://errn.blogspot.com/feeds/2893075512389827906/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=20390026&amp;postID=2893075512389827906&amp;isPopup=true' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20390026/posts/default/2893075512389827906'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20390026/posts/default/2893075512389827906'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://errn.blogspot.com/2008/09/lesson-learned.html' title='A Lesson Learned'/><author><name>Julie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02449209908197785539</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='12' src='http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v55/obliviousmama/ERRN.gif'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20390026.post-1563695570688347182</id><published>2008-09-26T08:20:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-09-26T08:43:56.350-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='ER on NBC'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='medical shows'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='ER'/><title type='text'>And So It Begins (Or Ends)......</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: verdana;"&gt;Yes my lovely readers, it is that time of year again.  The time when we can all give a big sigh of relief and relax into our comfy over stuffed recliners with a big glass of cold beer and a bag of chips.  The time when we can prop our legs up and have blissful silence since the screaming kids are finally asleep in bed.  The time when we can pick up our remotes and turn on the TV and say..........&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"What the HELL were they thinking?!?!"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Yes, my friends.  It is time for &lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 204, 0);"&gt;ER on NBC&lt;/span&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Last night was the season premiere for the FINAL season.  This is it.  We'll never have a season premiere for ER again.  I feel like we should bow our heads for a moment of silence.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Uh, nope.  Can't keep my mouth shut that long.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;First and foremost - why the HELL do they have to keep killing off characters in these huge dramatic ways?  Tell me!  Helicopter crashes, ambulance explosions.........pashaw.  Can't someone just die of a nice simple heart failure or something?  I mean really.  And then, to top it off, they kill one of the best characters on the show.  One of the few that actually spoke their mind.  Oh yes - I know, I know.  Those of us that speak up tend to get killed off.  Sigh......&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Numero Dos:  That was quite an interesting way to get an airway on Pratt.  Using the IV drip chamber and spike?  Creative.  Anyone actually ever seen this done?  Anyone actually ever heard of it?  Though I have to give huge props for the writers putting in the tidbit about the other supplies not being located where they were supposed to be.  Now that's true to life people!  True - to - life.  Apparently when some people get a job in an ER, they forget how to put shit away since their mommies aren't following them around anymore.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Number 3:  Does cyanide make people high?  That little girl was acting like she was doped up on morphine and having one hell of a trip.  My experience with this is that the patient actually doesn't feel good.  At all.  Sometimes they're not even awake.  Sometimes they be sleeping at my buddies house called The Morgue.  Oh, props again for the bitchy mom though.  Spot on.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Numero quatro:  When the hell are the guest spots?  We need them already.  Paging Dr. Green.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Number 5:  Isn't it nice that they knew exactly the place to go in with the needle into fake-hero-man's leg without a quick bedside ultrasound to define the area?   And the make up artists really need to look further at pictures of infected legs - that one just looked a little bruised and slightly red.  Certainly not something that my doc would have ran and got a needle for right away.   It was also quite convenient how they skipped over "Airway" to drain the leg first, and THEN said "Prepare for intubation."  Yep, cuz we all know that draining a wound is so much more important than having an established functioning airway on a possibly septic patient.  A-B-C's people!  A-B-C's. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Damn, I love this show.  I do. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And yes, I shed a tear or two for Pratt last night.  Let's keep that one our little secret, shall we?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/20390026-1563695570688347182?l=errn.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://errn.blogspot.com/feeds/1563695570688347182/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=20390026&amp;postID=1563695570688347182&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20390026/posts/default/1563695570688347182'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20390026/posts/default/1563695570688347182'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://errn.blogspot.com/2008/09/and-so-it-begins-or-ends.html' title='And So It Begins (Or Ends)......'/><author><name>Julie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02449209908197785539</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='12' src='http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v55/obliviousmama/ERRN.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20390026.post-3105004711617802482</id><published>2008-09-09T10:39:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-09-09T10:40:53.374-07:00</updated><title type='text'>On Vacation</title><content type='html'>Relaxing in the sun, spending time with friends, and going to see Kid Rock at the Puyallup Fair.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Will return when I find my brain again. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Until then....................&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/20390026-3105004711617802482?l=errn.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://errn.blogspot.com/feeds/3105004711617802482/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=20390026&amp;postID=3105004711617802482&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20390026/posts/default/3105004711617802482'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20390026/posts/default/3105004711617802482'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://errn.blogspot.com/2008/09/on-vacation.html' title='On Vacation'/><author><name>Julie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02449209908197785539</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='12' src='http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v55/obliviousmama/ERRN.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20390026.post-1507310661910306875</id><published>2008-08-21T10:20:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-08-21T10:52:05.916-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Finer Than Frog Hair, Thank Ya</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: verdana;"&gt;Well shit.  I got tagged.  Damn it.  But since &lt;/span&gt;&lt;a style="font-family: verdana;" href="http://thet-dude.blogspot.com/"&gt;The T Dude&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: verdana;"&gt; said such nice things about me, I am now obligated to play along.  I know how excited you all are to read more useless facts about me, but hey - I'm a damn cool chick so read it all anyway.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong style="font-family: verdana;"&gt;Da Rulez:&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: verdana;"&gt;1. Link the person that tagged you. (That would be &lt;/span&gt;&lt;a style="font-family: verdana;" href="http://thet-dude.blogspot.com/"&gt;This Dude&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: verdana;"&gt;)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: verdana;"&gt;2. Mention the rules on your blog.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: verdana;"&gt;3. Tell about 6 &lt;/span&gt;&lt;em style="font-weight: bold; font-family: verdana;"&gt;unspectacular&lt;/em&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: verdana;"&gt; quirks of yours.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: verdana;"&gt;4. Tag 6 following blogger's by linking them.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: verdana;"&gt;5. Leave a comment on each of the tagged blogger's blogs letting them know they've been tagged.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong style="font-family: verdana;"&gt;The six things:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: verdana;"&gt;Can I just say that trying to come up with 6 things I haven't already told y'all in my previous list posts is harder than shit dried on a popsicle stick?  Seriously people.  And then to make them &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold; font-family: verdana;font-size:130%;" &gt;unspectacular&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: verdana;"&gt;?  Hmmmm.  I love a good challenge.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: verdana;"&gt;1)  The absolute very first thing I do after I wake up or have sex is pee  (How's that for a number 1?  Huh?  Huh?). &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: verdana;"&gt;2)  I love stars.  Love them.  I'm talking about the sharp pointy things, not the ones that grace the pages of People magazine every week.  Those stars are no longer fascinating to me.  Same old, same old - blah, everyday.  Kiki Chochonos slept with Harvey Bigdong and his wife Sally Oblivious just found out and is taking it all like a trooper since she still accompanies the kids and their Nanny to the park everyday.  Pfffffllllltttt.  Whatever.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: verdana;"&gt;3)  I don't have much compassion for whiny, sniveling, oh-woe-is-me type of people.  They drive me absolutely bat shit crazy.  Coping skills - get some.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: verdana;"&gt;4)  I sighted in my rifle yesterday getting ready for hunting season in the Wild West.  Yeehaw.   "Thar's baaaaare in dem dare hills!"&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: verdana;"&gt;5)  I got a new phone last week.  A Nokia 5310 and I lubs it.  It's my new best friend.  Hell, if it had a "special" attachment, I wouldn't need a man (I know the phone is not a quirk, but the fact that it's my new best friend might qualify.  Or possibly the fact that it could be my life partner with a few add ons).&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: verdana;"&gt;6)  I hate shit like this, and yet I cannot stop myself from doing them.  Tags, quizzes, questionnaires, etc.  I MUST give the world my opinion.  Sad, I know.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong style="font-family: verdana;"&gt;The Tags&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: verdana;"&gt;Well now you're really making me think.  Shiznit.  Whoever will I tag?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: verdana;"&gt;1) &lt;/span&gt;&lt;a style="font-family: verdana;" href="http://www.triciarennea.blogspot.com/"&gt;Tricia Rennea&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: verdana;"&gt; because I adore her girly artwork.  Plus she cracks my ass up whenever we talk on the interwebz.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: verdana;"&gt;2) &lt;/span&gt;&lt;a style="font-family: verdana;" href="http://orthette.blogspot.com/"&gt;Orthette&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: verdana;"&gt; because I had one hell of a time with her on the 50 yard line in Biloxi, Mississippi when we were both there helping out after Hurricane Katrina (and no - not THAT kind of time.  Keep your mind out of the gutter people).&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: verdana;"&gt;3) &lt;/span&gt;&lt;a style="font-family: verdana;" href="http://crzegrl.net/"&gt;Crzegrl&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: verdana;"&gt; because she linked me once and I got a shitload of hits from her.  Plus - I adore her blog and love to read it. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: verdana;"&gt;4) &lt;/span&gt;&lt;a style="font-family: verdana;" href="http://www.traumaqueen.net/"&gt;Trauma Queen&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: verdana;"&gt; because he is the funniest Across-The-Pond blogger I have read.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: verdana;"&gt;5) &lt;/span&gt;&lt;a style="font-family: verdana;" href="http://www.atfootofthecross.blogspot.com/"&gt;Mel &lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: verdana;"&gt;because she rocks my socks and her spiritual journey is one to be watched and admired.  Obviously, I do poorly following in her footsteps. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: verdana;"&gt;6)  I'm already running scared from those I've listed.  They'll be chasing after me ready to kick my big ole' hiney for tagging them.  So I'm calling this one finished.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: verdana;"&gt;Sigh...........................  off to laundry now.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/20390026-1507310661910306875?l=errn.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://errn.blogspot.com/feeds/1507310661910306875/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=20390026&amp;postID=1507310661910306875&amp;isPopup=true' title='5 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20390026/posts/default/1507310661910306875'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20390026/posts/default/1507310661910306875'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://errn.blogspot.com/2008/08/finer-than-frog-hair-thank-ya.html' title='Finer Than Frog Hair, Thank Ya'/><author><name>Julie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02449209908197785539</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='12' src='http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v55/obliviousmama/ERRN.gif'/></author><thr:total>5</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20390026.post-1141535849238317762</id><published>2008-08-13T23:53:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-08-13T23:54:11.695-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Props for the Homies</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: verdana;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://ambulancedriverfiles.blogspot.com/2008/08/wont-you-take-me-to-drunkytown.html"&gt;THIS&lt;/a&gt; is some funny ass shit.  I snorted at least thrice reading this novela.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/20390026-1141535849238317762?l=errn.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://errn.blogspot.com/feeds/1141535849238317762/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=20390026&amp;postID=1141535849238317762&amp;isPopup=true' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20390026/posts/default/1141535849238317762'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20390026/posts/default/1141535849238317762'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://errn.blogspot.com/2008/08/props-for-homies.html' title='Props for the Homies'/><author><name>Julie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02449209908197785539</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='12' src='http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v55/obliviousmama/ERRN.gif'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20390026.post-4529392964643270481</id><published>2008-08-13T23:34:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-08-13T23:35:34.762-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Necking and such</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: verdana;"&gt;I got to stick my finger in a hole in some guy's neck today.  How cool is my job?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/20390026-4529392964643270481?l=errn.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://errn.blogspot.com/feeds/4529392964643270481/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=20390026&amp;postID=4529392964643270481&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20390026/posts/default/4529392964643270481'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20390026/posts/default/4529392964643270481'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://errn.blogspot.com/2008/08/necking-and-such.html' title='Necking and such'/><author><name>Julie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02449209908197785539</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='12' src='http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v55/obliviousmama/ERRN.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20390026.post-9080076832428157370</id><published>2008-08-11T21:56:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-08-11T22:10:52.326-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='vision loss with sex'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='going blind'/><title type='text'>Don't Touch That Thing!</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;For all my male peeps out there - remember when your mommy told you "not to play with that thing or you'll go blind!!!"?  Remember?  I bet you do.  Guess what?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It really happens.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Seriously.  It does.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I was taking care of a guy one day who came in for abdominal pain.  He also happened to be blind.  He asked me what I looked like and so I tried to describe myself to him.....&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"5ft 10 inches, 115 pounds, blond hair to my ass ,and big boobies."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;HeeHee - OK only one of those is right.  You figure it out.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anyway, he obviously had not been blind all his life because he could picture whatever I was describing to him.  Nodding his head and smiling, he would always say "Ah yes, I remember."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"How long have you been blind?" I asked.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Since I was 25," he replied.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"What happened?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Well, I didn't listen to my mama," he said.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"What?  How so?" I asked.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He laughed as he said, "She told me never to play with myself or I'd go blind."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Seriously?"  I giggled in reply.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Well sort of - I was having sex with my girlfriend and at the moment of, uh, impact, I went blind."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Holy shit!" I said.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Yeah, they said I had a hemorrhage that affected my optic nerves and I actually did lose my vision."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I stared at him dumbfounded.  I didn't know whether I should laugh or offer sympathy.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He pulled the covers up over his chest and patted his belly.  "Yeeeeeeep," he said.  "I shoulda listened to my mama."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He turned his head toward me with a crooked grin.  "But it was so much damn fun NOT listening to her."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I was still laughing as I walked out the door.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/20390026-9080076832428157370?l=errn.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://errn.blogspot.com/feeds/9080076832428157370/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=20390026&amp;postID=9080076832428157370&amp;isPopup=true' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20390026/posts/default/9080076832428157370'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20390026/posts/default/9080076832428157370'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://errn.blogspot.com/2008/08/for-all-my-male-peeps-out-there.html' title='Don&apos;t Touch That Thing!'/><author><name>Julie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02449209908197785539</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='12' src='http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v55/obliviousmama/ERRN.gif'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20390026.post-7306383269666213999</id><published>2008-07-29T11:45:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-07-29T11:47:27.189-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Ethical Conundrum</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: verdana;"&gt;We saved a life the other day and I was extremely pissed off about it.  We were manipulated and abused and just all around beat up.  It was one of the rare times when I thought "We should have just let your ass die."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/20390026-7306383269666213999?l=errn.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://errn.blogspot.com/feeds/7306383269666213999/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=20390026&amp;postID=7306383269666213999&amp;isPopup=true' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20390026/posts/default/7306383269666213999'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20390026/posts/default/7306383269666213999'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://errn.blogspot.com/2008/07/ethical-conundrum.html' title='Ethical Conundrum'/><author><name>Julie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02449209908197785539</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='12' src='http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v55/obliviousmama/ERRN.gif'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20390026.post-56345737468284337</id><published>2008-07-29T10:18:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-07-29T10:41:53.361-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Laxative, Please</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;Oh my hell.  Kill me now.  Seriously.  Dr. Constipation was in our ER the other day and I officially decided that taking a really long ice pick and stabbing it into my eyeballs over and over would be a really good thing.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sigh............&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Dr. Constipation makes my life hell.  He holds onto his patients and just will not let them go until you shove a big ole' enema up his ass and make him squirt them out the door.  What should be a less than one hour ER visit ends up taking 6 or 7 hours.  Why you ask?  WHY?  Well, let me tell you.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Apparently Dr. C feels that ordering ONE FREAKING TEST AT A TIME is a GREAT way to practice medicine.  Yes.  Uh huh.  You heard me right.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Fuck.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;52 year old presents with sudden onset right upper quadrant abdominal pain.  She is very obese and had fried chicken, bisquits and gravy, and chocolate cake for dinner.  She meets the 4 F's for probable gallbladder attack:&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;       Female?  Check&lt;br /&gt;      Fat?  Check&lt;br /&gt;       Forty?  Check&lt;br /&gt;       Food - greasy?  Check&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Most docs would order a CBC, Chem Panel, Amylase, Abdominal Series, and a possible ultrasound right off the get go.  Dr. Constipation?  OH NO!  Never could he imagine ordering more than one thing at a time.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Julie, start with a CBC."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"That's it?  Don't you want a Chem panel and an Amylase at least?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"No I don't Miss Thang.  We'll start with a CBC and maybe we won't need to do anything else and we can save this patient multiple tests," he says in that wonderful I-am-a-doctor-and-you-are-a-stupid-little-underling condescending way.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"I'd like to know how a little old CBC is going to tell you everything about your patient.  So what if the WBC's come back elevated?  You'll still do another test to find out why.  I know your kind you SOB."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;OK so I didn't really say that. But I thought it damn it!  I thought it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Sigh........OK Dr. C."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Guess what?  The WBC's were elevated.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"OK nurse Julie.  Let's get a chem panel now," he says.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I wanted to scream.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Can I draw an amylase with it?  And maybe get radiology involved?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"No Nurse Julie.  She probably won't need those things."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Dr. C.  Look.  I know you want to avoid unnecessary tests for this patient.  I know you are trying to look out for their best interests.  But we know she is most likely having an issue with her gallbladder.  If we keeping adding test on top of test she will have to be poked mulitple times and we've actually added to her suffering rather than preventing it.  We know we're going to need radiology and we know we're going to need a surgical consult.  Can we PLEASE just do that all now rather than delaying and doing one thing at  a time?"  I actually did say that.  Yes, pat me on the back now.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Nope, just get the chem panel please."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So 4 hours and multiple doses of morphine later the decision is made for a surgical consult.  Guess what?  Yep.  Exactly.  To OR for a cholecystectomy.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So not only did we delay treatment, we caused suffering by prolonging her pain when it could have been dealt with earlier through surgical intervention.  We also potentially could have caused more pain with multiple needle sticks for all the lab tests.  Luckily, I am a sneaky little nurse who drew all my tubes the first time and had lab hold them for the additional tests I knew would be forthcoming.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I battled with Dr Constipation for the rest of my shift.  The next day there was an enema bucket hanging from the nurses station ceiling with a big note on it saying "Rx for Dr Constipation."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Hmmmm....... wonder how that got there?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/20390026-56345737468284337?l=errn.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://errn.blogspot.com/feeds/56345737468284337/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=20390026&amp;postID=56345737468284337&amp;isPopup=true' title='6 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20390026/posts/default/56345737468284337'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20390026/posts/default/56345737468284337'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://errn.blogspot.com/2008/07/oh-my-hell.html' title='Laxative, Please'/><author><name>Julie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02449209908197785539</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='12' src='http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v55/obliviousmama/ERRN.gif'/></author><thr:total>6</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20390026.post-4251044506309879395</id><published>2008-07-10T20:07:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2008-07-10T20:13:28.585-07:00</updated><title type='text'>I Suppose I Should Be Offended........ But I Ain't</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://www.blogger.com/%3Ca%20href=" com="" albums="" j214="" ffswtmedic="" action="view&amp;amp;current=nurse-3.jpg&amp;quot;" target="_blank"&gt;&lt;img src="http://i81.photobucket.com/albums/j214/ffswtmedic/nurse-3.jpg" alt="Funny RN" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://www.blogger.com/%3Ca%20href=" com="" albums="" o53="" myuta21="" funny="" action="view&amp;amp;current=beanurse7mumf5.jpg&amp;quot;" target="_blank"&gt;&lt;img src="http://i117.photobucket.com/albums/o53/myuta21/Funny/beanurse7mumf5.jpg" alt="nurse" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://www.blogger.com/%3Ca%20href=" com="" albums="" r136="" charle74="" action="view&amp;amp;current=Nurse.youknow3.jpg&amp;quot;" target="_blank"&gt;&lt;img style="width: 401px; height: 294px;" src="http://i143.photobucket.com/albums/r136/charle74/Nurse.youknow3.jpg" alt="nurse funny" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I find these incredibly funny.  I suppose that says something about my inner workings eh?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/20390026-4251044506309879395?l=errn.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://errn.blogspot.com/feeds/4251044506309879395/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=20390026&amp;postID=4251044506309879395&amp;isPopup=true' title='5 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20390026/posts/default/4251044506309879395'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20390026/posts/default/4251044506309879395'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://errn.blogspot.com/2008/07/i-suppose-i-should-be-offended-but-i.html' title='I Suppose I Should Be Offended........ But I Ain&apos;t'/><author><name>Julie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02449209908197785539</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='12' src='http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v55/obliviousmama/ERRN.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://i117.photobucket.com/albums/o53/myuta21/Funny/th_beanurse7mumf5.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>5</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20390026.post-1142488749416712952</id><published>2008-07-10T13:44:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2012-01-03T15:22:42.353-08:00</updated><title type='text'>The Things You Find Out When You Stop By For A Second</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;I stopped by the nurses station today when I was walking through the hospital to go to physical therapy.  I saw Mark sitting at the computer and knew immediately I should turn around and walk the other way.  He is always, ALWAYS the bearer of bad news.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Hey!  You hear about your guy from yesterday?"  He asked.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Oh shit.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Um, what guy?"  I replied.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Mr. Gross Leg Abcess Man.  We flew him out last night."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"What the hell for?" I asked.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"He coded in the OR."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;WTF?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Seriously?  He was just in for a leg debridement.  He was only 32.  He had no medical history."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"I know," he said.  "He went into cardiac arrest."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sweet shit on a stick.  Ya think the meth had anything to do with it?  Snort.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/20390026-1142488749416712952?l=errn.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://errn.blogspot.com/feeds/1142488749416712952/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=20390026&amp;postID=1142488749416712952&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20390026/posts/default/1142488749416712952'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20390026/posts/default/1142488749416712952'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://errn.blogspot.com/2008/07/things-you-find-out-when-you-stop-by.html' title='The Things You Find Out When You Stop By For A Second'/><author><name>Julie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02449209908197785539</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='12' src='http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v55/obliviousmama/ERRN.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20390026.post-4387167079288621128</id><published>2008-07-09T18:24:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2008-07-09T18:27:19.683-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Linky Loo for Yoouuuuuuu</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: georgia;"&gt;Oh my hell.  Snort.  Oh God.  Help me please.  Ha-Ha.  Shit.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I went &lt;a href="http://www.emshaiku.blog-city.com/"&gt;&lt;span style="text-decoration: underline;"&gt;HERE&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;and found a link to &lt;a href="http://overheardinpdx.blogspot.com/"&gt;&lt;span style="text-decoration: underline;"&gt;HERE&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/a&gt;  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;and now I'm pissing myself laughing. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/20390026-4387167079288621128?l=errn.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://errn.blogspot.com/feeds/4387167079288621128/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=20390026&amp;postID=4387167079288621128&amp;isPopup=true' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20390026/posts/default/4387167079288621128'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20390026/posts/default/4387167079288621128'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://errn.blogspot.com/2008/07/linky-loo-for-yoouuuuuuu.html' title='Linky Loo for Yoouuuuuuu'/><author><name>Julie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02449209908197785539</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='12' src='http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v55/obliviousmama/ERRN.gif'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20390026.post-8770960221422231913</id><published>2008-07-09T17:30:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-07-09T17:50:44.273-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='RVR'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='rapid ventricular response'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='abcess'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='chest pain'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='leg abcess'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='leg wound'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='A fib'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='MRSA'/><title type='text'>Back In The Saddle Again</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: georgia;"&gt;Today was my first day actually providing patient care in the ER since my back injury.  I only worked 8 hours (normally do 12) but man, oh man did I feel it.  I wasn't necessarily in pain but my back felt like I'd spent the last 8 hours workin' the street corner in 5 inch stilettos fighting off the other hookers trying to take my space.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Phew.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ibuprofen is my best friend.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My day started with an Air Life transfer for a cardiac patient.  Acute MI.  He was sleeping when I got report on him.  Pain?  "Not to bad Julie.  It's about a zero or 1 on that pain scale thingy."  Well perfect.  IV meds infusing and he was good to go. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then Miss SOB (shortness of breath, not son-of-a-female dog here people.  Sheesh!  Do you really think I'm that mean?  OK well I am.  And she was a bitch.  But alas - I shall not SINK to the lower depths of bitter ER nursedom and call her names.  Oh, OK I will.  Cuz she was a bitch) walks in. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"I can't breathe," she tells me as I can hear her wheezing from the double sliding doors.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;'No shit,' I think.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I take her back to the cardiac bay and hook her up to every wire we have.  Well look at that!  A fib with rapid ventricular response.  Basically her heart was just a tickin' away - and not being very regular about it.   I pushed a little Cardizem bolus through her IV and started a drip (IV infusion for my non medical peeps).  Then I got to admit her to the floor and it took all of 30 minutes from request for a bed to actually reporting off.  I love it when the ER gods of the universe decide to support my ass for a change.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The Air Life crew arrived during all of this and wanted report on Mr No Pain Chest Pain.  Reported off to them and when they walked out the door only then did I realize they didn't bring me my chocolate.  BASTARDS!  They always bring chocolate.  WTH? &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Where the hell's my chocolate?"  I shouted after them.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Budget cuts!"  I heard as the pneumatic doors swooshed closed. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Well, shit.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;What's the state of health care coming to when the Air Life crew can't bring us chocolate anymore?  Someone needs to write their congressman or something.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My next patient was Mr. Gross Leg Abcess.  He had multiple pustule scabbed "things" on his lower legs with one in particular that looked like Mt St Helens waiting to blow.  Holy bulging pusbag batman!  Hot, red, swollen - I could practically see the pus pulsating with every heartbeat.   &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I love wounds like that.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Dr. J and I opened that puppy up and got lots of nice green and yellow tinged pus out of it.  Yummy.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Apparently when your right leg is 3.5 inches larger in circumference than your left leg, it kinda hurts.  Who'da thunk?  Aaaaannnnnddddd........ when you have a history of meth use, it takes a lot of Fentanyl to make your pain go away. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A lot like "make Julie stop breathing" doses.  Holy crap.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anyway, Gross Leg Abcess Man got admitted to med/surg for Vanco infusions and I&amp;amp;D of his abcess. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The rest of my day was filled with sprained ankles, runny noses (allergies in the summer?  Shocking!  I know.  Tell me about it.), and lacerations.  I didn't get a single trauma all day.  I'm kinda pissed about that.  It's funny how you miss things like that when you are off work for a while.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The best thing about today?  I got called in so it was all time and a half.  Yeehaw.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/20390026-8770960221422231913?l=errn.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://errn.blogspot.com/feeds/8770960221422231913/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=20390026&amp;postID=8770960221422231913&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20390026/posts/default/8770960221422231913'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20390026/posts/default/8770960221422231913'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://errn.blogspot.com/2008/07/back-in-saddle-again.html' title='Back In The Saddle Again'/><author><name>Julie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02449209908197785539</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='12' src='http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v55/obliviousmama/ERRN.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20390026.post-3137438200762266811</id><published>2008-07-03T15:51:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-07-03T16:05:09.874-07:00</updated><title type='text'>The fingers are falling!  The fingers are falling!</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: courier new;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;"&gt;Fingers and huge ass diesel truck doors do not make good partners.  They do not dance well together.  They do not make nice googly eyes at each other.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;"&gt;Oh no.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;"&gt;Truck doors do not like fingers at all.  Oh no they do not.  In fact truck doors don't like fingers so much that they think it's mighty fun to cut the little suckers right off.  And they laugh when the tips go plop in the dirt. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So do I.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sometimes I think I'm not a very compassionate nurse.  I might need some hospital mandated classes on that.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So Sally Sue comes in with 3 finger tips soaking in hydrogen peroxide in a plastic cup.  First and foremost to all my readers:    DO NOT STORE AMPUTATED FINGERTIPS IN HYDROGEN PEROXIDE!!  Umkay?  &lt;a href="http://orthoinfo.aaos.org/topic.cfm?topic=A00014"&gt;This&lt;/a&gt; is how you should handle your amputated parts.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anyhoooo.........  Sally Sue tried her best to do the right thing with her parts.  She meant well so I did not lecture (hard to believe?  Pashaw!).  She had a great dressing over her hand so I promptly set about packaging the fingers in a dry, sterile, cool environment.  Once the parts were comfy I focused my attention on her hand.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I unwrapped the gauze and saw 3 cute little stubby fingers dripping blood.  A quick Xray, followed by a few digital blocks (numbing the fingers so you can get in there and really look at them/clean them/play with them/whatever you want you crazy freaks), and I had my way with her fingers. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;They were full of dirt and debris.  Truck doors are dirty.  Ranch trucks are even dirtier.  Hay, cow shit, horse shit, dirt, you name it - it's all in the seals of the doors.  I did a little cleaning, the doc did a little reattaching, and off to the ortho doc 2 hours away she went.  Hopefully they will be able to completely reattach her fingers for her. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;She was on vacation from Florida at a dude ranch here in Ory-gone.  Hell of a way to spend your paid time off eh?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/20390026-3137438200762266811?l=errn.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://errn.blogspot.com/feeds/3137438200762266811/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=20390026&amp;postID=3137438200762266811&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20390026/posts/default/3137438200762266811'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20390026/posts/default/3137438200762266811'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://errn.blogspot.com/2008/07/fingers-are-falling-fingers-are-falling.html' title='The fingers are falling!  The fingers are falling!'/><author><name>Julie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02449209908197785539</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='12' src='http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v55/obliviousmama/ERRN.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20390026.post-1605067930155660171</id><published>2008-07-03T15:48:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2008-07-03T15:49:56.903-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Props to the Nursies</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: verdana;"&gt;Please take a minute and peek at &lt;/span&gt;&lt;a style="font-family: verdana;" href="http://atfootofthecross.blogspot.com/"&gt;Mel's Blog&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: verdana;"&gt;She just returned from a medical mission to Haiti.  She's got a few pictures up and is working on a slideshow it looks like.  Can't wait to see them all.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/20390026-1605067930155660171?l=errn.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://errn.blogspot.com/feeds/1605067930155660171/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=20390026&amp;postID=1605067930155660171&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20390026/posts/default/1605067930155660171'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20390026/posts/default/1605067930155660171'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://errn.blogspot.com/2008/07/props-to-nursies.html' title='Props to the Nursies'/><author><name>Julie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02449209908197785539</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='12' src='http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v55/obliviousmama/ERRN.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20390026.post-6976024581932384133</id><published>2008-07-03T15:13:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2008-07-03T15:34:01.964-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Holy Humperdink Batman!</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family: verdana;font-size:130%;" &gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;It has been such a loooooooooong time since I've posted.  It actually feels like days instead of months though.  So much has happened.  Shall I sum it up for you?  Here we go:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;ol style="font-family: verdana;"&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;Manager position dissolved&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;Got put back on the staff rotation&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;Got drunk&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;Separated from husband&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;Divorced husband&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;Got drunk&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;Hurt back (again - wtf?)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;Took a much needed break from anything&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;Got drunk&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;Went on an awesome amazing beautiful 100+ mile 4 wheeler ride with friends&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;Got drunk&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;Went rafting down the Rogue River&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;Got drunk&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;/ol&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: verdana;font-size:130%;" &gt;Are we detecting a pattern here?  LOL.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;OK Seriously now...... I've been in physical therapy since May 23rd for a re-injury to my back.  It involved 4 nurses, one 450 pound intubated patient, and no lifting equipment.  Um.... yeah.  Hurt.  I should be released back to full duty again soon though.  Thank God!   I'm so damn tired of chart reviews and updating policies I could vomit.  I hate light duty.  Seriously.  It is like a huge infected ass pimple that makes it difficult to sit down on because it's just so fricking irritating.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The good news?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;TRAUMA SEASON IS HERE!!!!  Yeeeeeeehaw!!!!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I love trauma season.  May through November is my favorite time of year to work in the ER.  Car wrecks, motorcycle crashes, horse wrecks, cow tramplings, gunshot wounds, stabbings, beat up with frying pans, falling off ladders, exploding fireworks............sigh............ I love 'em.  Love 'em all.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Had our first snake bite of the season the other day too.  Classic presentation - young male, drunk, saying "Hey!  There's a snake!  Let's catch it!" - followed by a sloppy grab and an envenomated bite.   So what did our cute little chubby fellow win?  A trip to the ICU and a 10 minute lecture from a craggy old physician.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Craggy - is that a word?  I don't think so.  Doesn't look right.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anyway - I'm back!  I know you are all falling over yourselves in excitement.  I can see it.  Just make sure you sustain some good injuries because I'm bored and need something to do.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Seriously.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/20390026-6976024581932384133?l=errn.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://errn.blogspot.com/feeds/6976024581932384133/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=20390026&amp;postID=6976024581932384133&amp;isPopup=true' title='6 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20390026/posts/default/6976024581932384133'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20390026/posts/default/6976024581932384133'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://errn.blogspot.com/2008/07/holy-humperdink-batman.html' title='Holy Humperdink Batman!'/><author><name>Julie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02449209908197785539</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='12' src='http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v55/obliviousmama/ERRN.gif'/></author><thr:total>6</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20390026.post-1813552146502038195</id><published>2008-04-08T20:46:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2008-04-08T20:46:45.054-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Update</title><content type='html'>I may be on a bit of a break for a while.  Personal issues.  But I shall return!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/20390026-1813552146502038195?l=errn.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://errn.blogspot.com/feeds/1813552146502038195/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=20390026&amp;postID=1813552146502038195&amp;isPopup=true' title='11 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20390026/posts/default/1813552146502038195'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20390026/posts/default/1813552146502038195'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://errn.blogspot.com/2008/04/update.html' title='Update'/><author><name>Julie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02449209908197785539</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='12' src='http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v55/obliviousmama/ERRN.gif'/></author><thr:total>11</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20390026.post-2486614999829184707</id><published>2008-03-30T20:56:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-03-30T21:06:00.026-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Performing Arts</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: verdana;"&gt;I came walking out of the break room the other day when I heard Bob say (in a very sing song voice mind you) "Turn around......"  I couldn't help myself.  I had to do it.  I had to complete the song.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Bright eyes.  Every now and then I fall apart.......and I need you  now tonight......and I need you more than ever.......and if you'll only hold me tight......we'll be holding on forever......"  I sang back at him as I walked down the hall.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The entire staff joined in.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"And we'll only be makin' it right ........cause we'll never be wrong.... together we can take it to  the end of the line.  Your love is like a shadow on me all of the time.....I don't know what to do and I'm always in the dark...we're living in a powder keg and givin' off sparks................."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;By now we were virtually shouting.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"I really need you tonight! Forever's gonna start tonight.....forever's gonna start tonight."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: verdana;"&gt;We were all laughing hysterically by the end of the song.  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: verdana;"&gt;I felt like I was in a really bad musical episode of ER.  Frightening. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/20390026-2486614999829184707?l=errn.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://errn.blogspot.com/feeds/2486614999829184707/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=20390026&amp;postID=2486614999829184707&amp;isPopup=true' title='6 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20390026/posts/default/2486614999829184707'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20390026/posts/default/2486614999829184707'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://errn.blogspot.com/2008/03/performing-arts.html' title='Performing Arts'/><author><name>Julie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02449209908197785539</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='12' src='http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v55/obliviousmama/ERRN.gif'/></author><thr:total>6</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20390026.post-3382783641019999517</id><published>2008-03-21T00:45:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2008-03-21T00:55:35.529-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Addiction</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: georgia;"&gt;Guess who came back yesterday?  &lt;a href="http://errn.blogspot.com/2008/03/miscalculations.html"&gt;Mrs .420. &lt;/a&gt;   She called the ambulance for "pain everywhere."  Paramedic Pete responded and rolled her through my ER doors at about 10 in the morning. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Paula, have you been drinking again?  'Cuz you know I can't give you any pain medicine if you've been drinking," I told her.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"No I haven't Julie.  I've been puking all morning.  I promise I haven't drank anything.  My belly hurts so bad - can I just have something for the pain?" she asked.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We transferred her to the ER stretcher and I quickly disrobed her and changed her to a gown.  Her abdomen was twice the size as it was during her previous visit.  Oh Lord.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"I just don't feel right," she said.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"I bet," I replied.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I finished a rapid assessment, started and IV, drew some labs, got a quick catheter urine sample, and notified my doc of her arrival. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;30 minutes later we saw that her liver was shutting down.  Her liver enzymes had quadrupled since her last visit, and I noticed she was a bit yellow when I got her out of the exam room and into radiology.  Let me just say here that lighting makes all the difference on a skin assessment.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;2 hours later we got her admitted to the floor.  Dr. Q set her up on the alcohol withdrawal protocol and I reported off to the accepting nurse.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I went back to the ER and started talking about addiction with another nurse.   It seems so foreign to me that something could have so much power over you as a human that it can make you crave it while simultaneously destroying your life.  I see it every day and yet I don't really think about it all that often. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But here was a lady in her early 50's who could have been anything in the world when she was younger.  She could have been a teacher, a lawyer, a politician, a nurse, a mom - anything.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Yet her biggest accomplishment in life was to become a die hard alcoholic and drug user. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So sad.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/20390026-3382783641019999517?l=errn.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://errn.blogspot.com/feeds/3382783641019999517/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=20390026&amp;postID=3382783641019999517&amp;isPopup=true' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20390026/posts/default/3382783641019999517'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20390026/posts/default/3382783641019999517'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://errn.blogspot.com/2008/03/addiction.html' title='Addiction'/><author><name>Julie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02449209908197785539</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='12' src='http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v55/obliviousmama/ERRN.gif'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20390026.post-4028802741038035019</id><published>2008-03-21T00:37:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-03-21T00:43:59.348-07:00</updated><title type='text'>ED nurse stat!</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: georgia;"&gt;Dr. J and I were standing at the nurses station when someone came running down the hall shouting "I need an ED nurse!" &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I grabbed my soda, took a drink and started flipping through a magazine as the radiology tech flew by me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Dr. J looked at me and smiled.  "Is that a new treatment?"  he asked.  "Do they have to be dressed in a french maid's uniform?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Hmmm?" I asked, looking down at a half naked picture of Hugh Jackman in my People magazine.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"You know," he said as he started twirling around pretending like he was dusting the light fixtures along the top edge of the hallway, "ED nurse - erectile dysfunction nurse?  They could dress in costume, come in to the patient room and poof!  Patient cured."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"You're an ass,"  I said as I laughed.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Yeah, but think of the research!" he replied.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sometimes you just have to shake your head working in a place like this.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/20390026-4028802741038035019?l=errn.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://errn.blogspot.com/feeds/4028802741038035019/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=20390026&amp;postID=4028802741038035019&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20390026/posts/default/4028802741038035019'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20390026/posts/default/4028802741038035019'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://errn.blogspot.com/2008/03/ed-nurse-stat.html' title='ED nurse stat!'/><author><name>Julie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02449209908197785539</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='12' src='http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v55/obliviousmama/ERRN.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20390026.post-3397148263140508756</id><published>2008-03-19T20:59:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2008-03-19T21:00:26.488-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Linky Love</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://ambulancedriverfiles.blogspot.com/2008/03/calling-all-gun-bloggers-and.html"&gt;Ambulance Driver&lt;/a&gt; needs your help. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Passing on the link so he can get the info he needs.  He's looking for gun bloggers and medical personnel who work with gunshot victims.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/20390026-3397148263140508756?l=errn.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://errn.blogspot.com/feeds/3397148263140508756/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=20390026&amp;postID=3397148263140508756&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20390026/posts/default/3397148263140508756'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20390026/posts/default/3397148263140508756'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://errn.blogspot.com/2008/03/linky-love.html' title='Linky Love'/><author><name>Julie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02449209908197785539</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='12' src='http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v55/obliviousmama/ERRN.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20390026.post-3353671332769820368</id><published>2008-03-19T20:34:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2008-03-19T20:54:37.256-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Have They Checked The Clocks?</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: georgia;"&gt;Slow day today.  I had a whopping total of 3 patients.  What the hay?  Something ain't right here. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My day consisted of the following patients:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;ul&gt;&lt;li&gt;a nosebleed&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;a migraine&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;a fall down go boom&lt;/li&gt;&lt;/ul&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: georgia;"&gt;I felt like the day would never end.  Every time I looked at the clock it was only ten AM - and it stayed 10AM until I finally went home at 5PM.  Ever have one of those days?  It just refused to move any faster.  I did get a lot of QI analysis done on the trauma charts.  Yeehaw.   I know how much you all care.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Oh!  I did get in a debate about pain control with one of our docs.  Thaaaaaat was an interesting conversation.  Hoooboy.  Seems we have differing opinions there, such as I think people who hurt should get pain medicine and he doesn't. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anyway, back home now wasting time on line. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/20390026-3353671332769820368?l=errn.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://errn.blogspot.com/feeds/3353671332769820368/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=20390026&amp;postID=3353671332769820368&amp;isPopup=true' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20390026/posts/default/3353671332769820368'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20390026/posts/default/3353671332769820368'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://errn.blogspot.com/2008/03/have-they-checked-clocks.html' title='Have They Checked The Clocks?'/><author><name>Julie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02449209908197785539</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='12' src='http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v55/obliviousmama/ERRN.gif'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20390026.post-3504090672254184510</id><published>2008-03-17T23:30:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-03-17T23:31:13.411-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Miscalculations</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: verdana;"&gt;I lost a bet this morning.  I thought she'd be about a .238.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;She was a .420.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;At 8 o'clock in the morning.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sigh........................................&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/20390026-3504090672254184510?l=errn.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://errn.blogspot.com/feeds/3504090672254184510/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=20390026&amp;postID=3504090672254184510&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20390026/posts/default/3504090672254184510'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20390026/posts/default/3504090672254184510'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://errn.blogspot.com/2008/03/miscalculations.html' title='Miscalculations'/><author><name>Julie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02449209908197785539</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='12' src='http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v55/obliviousmama/ERRN.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20390026.post-5695857992273078755</id><published>2008-03-16T15:24:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2008-03-16T16:02:15.346-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Hope</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;Sherri and I hopped in the van and h&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;it the backroads around Biloxi, Mississippi with a cooler full of tetanus vaccine, a box full of syringes, and multiple dressing supplies.  We were 2 weeks out from&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt; Hurricane Katrina and the devastation still amazed me.  Every road revealed something ripped apart and given to the winds as if it were an offering to the gods.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I will never forget the people we met that day.  They were resilient, hopeful, hardworking people of the South -&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt; and I fell in love repeatedly with their spirit.  I had spent the previous week working in a s&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;helter where the majority of people  were angry, mean spirited, and had the largest sense of entitlement I had ever seen.  It was quite refreshing to get out and meet some of the people who loved their homeland - even through the devastation.  They had hope and did not fea&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;r working hard to get back what &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;they had lost.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We dressed the arm wounds of a lady who had literally hung onto a rope in a tree for eight hours while the water swirled around her.  She talked of seeing snakes swimming at her feet and watching t&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;he remnants of peoples lives float by her.  She was sifting through the wreckage that used to be her single wide trailer and trying to pick out anything left.  She had&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt; a handful of photos that had been trapped under some debris.  That was it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;We found an elderly lady sitting in her home laughing as she went through the boxes at her feet.  We could see the &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;water marks on the walls of her living room - black mold and dirt approx 4 feet high.  Her couch was in her kitchen and her car was halfway through her living room wall - filled with plant debris.  But she was still laughing at the memories in her box.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://bp1.blogger.com/_36HeNbICT9w/R92l0Yp5NsI/AAAAAAAAABU/yCqwo3iD8Go/s1600-h/Katrina+420.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://bp1.blogger.com/_36HeNbICT9w/R92l0Yp5NsI/AAAAAAAAABU/yCqwo3iD8Go/s200/Katrina+420.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5178477465935886018" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;We wrapped a leg wound on a m&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;an wh&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;o was cutting apart the tree that had fallen on his house.  His kids were running around the front yard playing tag with each other while his wife sifted through their belongings scattered over the driveway.  He talked about coming back home after they had evacuated and the first thing he saw was the foundation to his neighbor's house.  No house - just the foundation.  He still didn't know where his neighbor was.  Th&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;ey had been best friends for the last 10 years.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://bp2.blogger.com/_36HeNbICT9w/R92jjop5NrI/AAAAAAAAABM/vzs-LaTvS0A/s1600-h/Katrina+125.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://bp2.blogger.com/_36HeNbICT9w/R92jjop5NrI/AAAAAAAAABM/vzs-LaTvS0A/s200/Katrina+125.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5178474979149821618" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;We rounded a corner in Ocean Springs and came upon a lady whistling and hanging out her laundry.  I remember how unbelievably white the sheets were on the line.  She offered us some ice cold sweet tea and some cookies.  Her house had flooded but she refused any help from us.  "I got it all taken care of hon," she said.  She sent us on our way with a pitcher of tea and a box of snacks.  "Y'all do some good out there now, OK?" she shouted as we drove away.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;We dressed wounds, gave shots, helped people move furniture, and spent hours helping sort through debris.  But I gained more from the people there than I could ever have given them.  They showed me that great sorrow and huge tragedies birth hope.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://bp2.blogger.com/_36HeNbICT9w/R92m1op5NtI/AAAAAAAAABc/3QiZxtaD6PY/s1600-h/Katrina+294.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://bp2.blogger.com/_36HeNbICT9w/R92m1op5NtI/AAAAAAAAABc/3QiZxtaD6PY/s200/Katrina+294.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5178478586922350290" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/20390026-5695857992273078755?l=errn.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://errn.blogspot.com/feeds/5695857992273078755/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=20390026&amp;postID=5695857992273078755&amp;isPopup=true' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20390026/posts/default/5695857992273078755'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20390026/posts/default/5695857992273078755'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://errn.blogspot.com/2008/03/hope.html' title='Hope'/><author><name>Julie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02449209908197785539</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='12' src='http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v55/obliviousmama/ERRN.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://bp1.blogger.com/_36HeNbICT9w/R92l0Yp5NsI/AAAAAAAAABU/yCqwo3iD8Go/s72-c/Katrina+420.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20390026.post-8880150702354473923</id><published>2008-03-13T20:26:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-03-13T20:47:24.166-07:00</updated><title type='text'>The Birthing of the Bowels</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;I think I'm on a poop roll.  Everything I do lately seems to be centered around someone taking a crap.  There is a black cloud of shiznit hovering over my head.  Sigh..............................&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I walked into Exam 2 to help Lucy &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;"roll someone over"&lt;/span&gt; yesterday.  She's learned how to manipulate me - and manipulate me well.  "It'll only take a second," she whimpers.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I walked into a wall of odiferous haze.  Oh..........my.............god.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It smelled like the bowels of hell.  Literally.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Mr. Intoxicated had crapped himself.  For the first time in 8 days.  Lucy looked at me from the back of the stretcher and winked.  I flipped her off.  We set to work and got him cleaned up, changed to a fresh gown, and settled back in.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"I have to crap!!!!!!!!!!!" he screamed.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Oh Lord.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We quickly assisted him up to a bedside commode where he proceeded to give us a play by play of his bowel movement.  We apparently had ringside seats.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"OH OH OH!  It's coming!  It's coming!!!  I can feel it starting to come out."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Grunt.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Oh, wait.  It stopped.  I think I'll push harder."  Grunt, Grunt, Strain.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Here it comes!  I think I've got it!"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Long pause.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Nope.  I was wrong.  Lordy, I can feel it hangin' there."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Lucy was holding her hands over her mouth trying not to laugh.  I just stood staring at the guy with my mouth hanging open.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Seriously?????"  I mouthed to Lucy.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;She snorted.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Oh!!!  Here it is!  Here it is!"  PLOP.  The bowel movement finally arrived.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I felt like I should have clapped.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We proceeded to admit him to the floor for detox and some abnormal labs.  I volunteered to take him up - not the smartest move of my day by any means.  The floor nurse and I transferred him from the stretcher to the bed where he decided he had to crap again.  Instead of waiting for us to get the bedside commode, he just let loose -  and loose is a definite  understatement.  The dramatic ejection of the poop plug in the ER had broken the dam.  The river was overflowing the banks!  My lower legs were suddenly (and shockingly) covered in his diarrhea.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sometimes I wonder why I go to work every day. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/20390026-8880150702354473923?l=errn.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://errn.blogspot.com/feeds/8880150702354473923/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=20390026&amp;postID=8880150702354473923&amp;isPopup=true' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20390026/posts/default/8880150702354473923'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20390026/posts/default/8880150702354473923'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://errn.blogspot.com/2008/03/birthing-of-bowels.html' title='The Birthing of the Bowels'/><author><name>Julie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02449209908197785539</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='12' src='http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v55/obliviousmama/ERRN.gif'/></author><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20390026.post-4615078932930820550</id><published>2008-03-08T19:32:00.001-08:00</published><updated>2008-03-08T19:36:24.566-08:00</updated><title type='text'>The "Butt" of the Joke</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: verdana;"&gt;I think I was a little to verbal at work about my frustration with coworkers &lt;a href="http://errn.blogspot.com/2008/02/everythings-coming-up-roses.html"&gt;taking a poo&lt;/a&gt; in our bathrooms.  I am now the target of containers of mysterious brown substances being left on the ER desk when I am working.  One even had a note asking me if I could identify what they ate for lunch the day before.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I wrote back on the bottom, "halibut fish and chips, coleslaw, and a pepsi" and set it back on the counter.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Thirty minutes later there was another post it note on the bottom that read, "OH MY GOD!  You're right!" &lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/20390026-4615078932930820550?l=errn.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://errn.blogspot.com/feeds/4615078932930820550/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=20390026&amp;postID=4615078932930820550&amp;isPopup=true' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20390026/posts/default/4615078932930820550'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20390026/posts/default/4615078932930820550'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://errn.blogspot.com/2008/03/butt-of-joke.html' title='The &quot;Butt&quot; of the Joke'/><author><name>Julie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02449209908197785539</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='12' src='http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v55/obliviousmama/ERRN.gif'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20390026.post-9070043608813472495</id><published>2008-03-08T19:16:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-03-08T19:29:40.117-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Personal Hygiene</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: verdana;"&gt;One of the male nurses I work with keeps me laughing constantly.  He always has a comeback that will make me practically pee my pants from giggling so hard.  I thought he could never be beaten.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Until Flirty Flora came in. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It took her only one full sentence to leave him stunned and speechless, unable to grasp even the edges of a smart assed reply.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He grabbed her chart from the triage nurse and saw the chief complaint of "fall with abdominal pain."  He headed to Exam2 and walked in and introduced himself.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Hello Flirty Flora.  My name is JoeBob.  I'm one of the ER nurses and I'll be taking care of you today."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Flirty Flora, who is in her 60's by the way, batted her eyelashes, looked up at him and uttered the now famous words we have posted in our nurses lounge.............&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Oh good.  I just cleaned and powdered my twat."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/20390026-9070043608813472495?l=errn.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://errn.blogspot.com/feeds/9070043608813472495/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=20390026&amp;postID=9070043608813472495&amp;isPopup=true' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20390026/posts/default/9070043608813472495'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20390026/posts/default/9070043608813472495'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://errn.blogspot.com/2008/03/personal-hygiene.html' title='Personal Hygiene'/><author><name>Julie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02449209908197785539</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='12' src='http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v55/obliviousmama/ERRN.gif'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20390026.post-7867024678757097590</id><published>2008-03-01T22:52:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-03-01T22:53:46.978-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Google Away</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: verdana;"&gt;Apparently, it's all the rage to &lt;a href="http://www.google.com/search?client=safari&amp;amp;rls=en&amp;amp;q=surfing%20the%20net%20drunk&amp;amp;ie=UTF-8&amp;amp;oe=UTF-8"&gt;surf the net drunk&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I made the google list for that one.  HeeHee.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I AM that inspiring.  Snort.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/20390026-7867024678757097590?l=errn.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://errn.blogspot.com/feeds/7867024678757097590/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=20390026&amp;postID=7867024678757097590&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20390026/posts/default/7867024678757097590'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20390026/posts/default/7867024678757097590'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://errn.blogspot.com/2008/03/google-away.html' title='Google Away'/><author><name>Julie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02449209908197785539</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='12' src='http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v55/obliviousmama/ERRN.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20390026.post-719553305521219415</id><published>2008-03-01T09:45:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-03-01T10:00:49.031-08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='RN Paramedic'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='ambulance ride'/><title type='text'>And Away We Go</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;A few months ago I had the privilege of manning the back of Medic 1 on a transfer to a higher level facility.  We were 2 Paramedics short and they needed someone to provide care on the transfer.  The patient was a stable GI bleed who needed the services of a surgeon.  Ours was out of town on a hunting retreat in Africa.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I received report from one of my coworkers.  58 y/o female, bright red blood from rectum, vitals stable, mild abdominal pain.  Alert and responsive.  She threw me a cooler with 2 units of PRBC's (packed red blood cells) in it "just in case".&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;EMT Bob helps me pop her up into the back of the ambulance and away we go.  I get her hooked up to the monitor, check her IV site, take vitals, do a quick assessment.  Nothing has changed from previous report.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We get 60 miles out of town and her IV site blows.  Not a big deal, right?  An IV start is an everyday activity for me.  Multiple starts per day.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But never in the back of an ambulance going over a highway that has multiple potholes from the nasty ass winter we had where the snow and gravel tore up the road.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I have two words................. NEW RESPECT.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It takes a certain finesse to start an IV in the back of the short bus.  It was one hell of a bumpy ride.  Trying to maintain your balance with a needle in your hand aimed at a vein while the rig is swaying back and forth and jumping over potholes is no easy feat.  To think our Paramedics do this without thinking twice.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I did get it on the first try.  I left a large amount of the patients blood all over the EMS stretcher and on their floor, but damn it - I got it.  Yeehaw!  EMT Bob even congratulated me.  "You're the first nurse I've seen who got it on the first try back there."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The patient looked at me and smiled.  She then promptly rolled her eyes in the back of her head and went out on me.  What the hell?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Airway intact, breathing OK, B/P in the toilet, pulses weak, tachycardic.  Shit.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Um........Bob?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Yeah - he can't help.  He's driving.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Fluid bolus.  Start second IV (amazing how a little stress made me completely forget about the bounciness of the ambulance.  Bounciness?  Is that even a word?).  Initiate blood transfusion.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Pt condition improves.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Nurse breathes.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;OK seriously - this condition in the ER would not have made me blink twice.  But I also know I have backup at the drop of a hat.  Being in the back of Medic 1 in the middle of nowhere halfway to the next hospital (120 miles of desert to cross with no towns in between) adds a new perspective to the problem.  No one there to help.  Closest help an hour away.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I loved every minute of it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Must do it again.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/20390026-719553305521219415?l=errn.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://errn.blogspot.com/feeds/719553305521219415/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=20390026&amp;postID=719553305521219415&amp;isPopup=true' title='8 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20390026/posts/default/719553305521219415'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20390026/posts/default/719553305521219415'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://errn.blogspot.com/2008/03/and-away-we-go.html' title='And Away We Go'/><author><name>Julie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02449209908197785539</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='12' src='http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v55/obliviousmama/ERRN.gif'/></author><thr:total>8</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20390026.post-4702968713982560906</id><published>2008-03-01T08:50:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-03-01T08:56:30.016-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Agree To The T</title><content type='html'>I could not have said it better:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://ertechdude.blogspot.com/2008/02/open-letter-to-patients.html"&gt;Open letter to ER Patients&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Courtesy of &lt;a href="http://ertechdude.blogspot.com/"&gt;ER Tech Dude&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I do believe that health education for the public should include how to behave in the emergency department waiting room and how to tell the truth to your medical caregivers.  'nuff said.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/20390026-4702968713982560906?l=errn.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://errn.blogspot.com/feeds/4702968713982560906/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=20390026&amp;postID=4702968713982560906&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20390026/posts/default/4702968713982560906'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20390026/posts/default/4702968713982560906'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://errn.blogspot.com/2008/03/agree-to-t.html' title='Agree To The T'/><author><name>Julie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02449209908197785539</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='12' src='http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v55/obliviousmama/ERRN.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20390026.post-6243166439549399552</id><published>2008-03-01T07:32:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-03-01T07:45:29.280-08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='suicide in hospital'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='bend suicide'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='suicide attempts'/><title type='text'>Obviously the 50 Previous Attempts Don't Matter</title><content type='html'>Interesting case from my state:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.bendbulletin.com/apps/pbcs.dll/article?AID=/20080229/NEWS0107/802290477"&gt;Woman jumps from balcony in hospital and kills self&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;blockquote&gt;Powell jumped from a balcony in the hospital’s main lobby Monday after she broke free from two escorts who were taking her to a secure mental health facility, said Robin Henderson, director of behavioral services at the hospital.   ~Bend Bulletin Newspaper~&lt;/blockquote&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This is going to bring about all kinds of interesting policy changes there I bet.  Which irritates me.  I'm all for patient safety, but sometimes you just cannot prevent something bad happening.  Especially when the patient has attempted suicide&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;50 - &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;yes FIFTY&lt;/span&gt; times before. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;blockquote&gt;Cindy Powell’s sisters both say her 50 suicide attempts weren’t what they seemed. ~Bend Bulletin Newspaper~&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/blockquote&gt;&lt;br /&gt;She succeeded this time.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Someone who attempts suicide multiple times and finally plunges off a balcony is not just "looking for help" in my humble opinion. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I took care of a gentleman early in my career that had attempted suicide 4 times - and they were all major attempts.  Not just a little pill popping here and there, but serious attempts. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;ol&gt;&lt;li&gt;tried to slash his own neck - nicked one major vessel and was found immediately by his wife&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;gunshot to the abdomen.  Missed anything major.  Found immediately by his wife&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;attempted to stab self in heart.  Missed.  Dug around with the knife in his chest for a little while.  Nicked some major vessels but found immediately by his wife&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;gunshot to the head when wife finally left him.  Used a .22.   Wrong angle, bounced off skull and played around under the skin of his head&lt;/li&gt;&lt;/ol&gt;Now, wouldn't you think that if you had lived through those things, someone upstairs really wants you alive for some purpose?  He didn't.  He still wanted to die.  I never found out what happened to him as I moved from the area, but I'm almost 100% certain he is probably dead.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When you want to go, you want to go.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/20390026-6243166439549399552?l=errn.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://errn.blogspot.com/feeds/6243166439549399552/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=20390026&amp;postID=6243166439549399552&amp;isPopup=true' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20390026/posts/default/6243166439549399552'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20390026/posts/default/6243166439549399552'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://errn.blogspot.com/2008/03/obviously-50-previous-attempts-dont.html' title='Obviously the 50 Previous Attempts Don&apos;t Matter'/><author><name>Julie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02449209908197785539</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='12' src='http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v55/obliviousmama/ERRN.gif'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20390026.post-8545639862734651029</id><published>2008-02-28T08:57:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-02-28T09:00:37.484-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Everything's Coming Up Roses</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: verdana;"&gt;Why does everyone feel the need to come to the ER to shit?  And I'm not talking patients here.  I'm talking other staff.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Apparently, people like to haul their butts all the way down to the ER to take a dump in our bathrooms.  Lab personnel, Xray personnel, even the dang business office people!  Do they think they can hide their stink in the ER?  Do they think it will blend in with the other smells of the unit?  OK, they're right there, but seriously people................shit on your own unit.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm almost at the point where I can identify coworkers by the smell of their poo. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/20390026-8545639862734651029?l=errn.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://errn.blogspot.com/feeds/8545639862734651029/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=20390026&amp;postID=8545639862734651029&amp;isPopup=true' title='6 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20390026/posts/default/8545639862734651029'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20390026/posts/default/8545639862734651029'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://errn.blogspot.com/2008/02/everythings-coming-up-roses.html' title='Everything&apos;s Coming Up Roses'/><author><name>Julie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02449209908197785539</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='12' src='http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v55/obliviousmama/ERRN.gif'/></author><thr:total>6</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20390026.post-1390098188138984027</id><published>2008-02-22T19:35:00.001-08:00</published><updated>2008-02-22T19:46:47.449-08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='obesity'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='medical care for obese patients'/><title type='text'>Challenges of Obesity</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;I ate lunch with 2 of the EMS crew and one of our ER docs today.  The conversation turned to alcohol levels, drug seekers, and morbidly obese patients - sometimes all in one.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Obesity is an epidemic in our country.  We all know that.  What some people don't realize is how much of a strain it puts on the medical professionals who have to treat them.  The EMS crew were discussing a story about how difficult it was to get a 550 lb patient out of her house last week.  They had to call the fire department for lifting help as they could not even move her.  They talked about a 700+ lb lady we have in our community who they are just waiting to get a call on.  They have a plan involving planks from the hardware store and tarps.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now before I get any nasty comments, they were not making fun of her.  They seriously had to plan for how they would be able to transport this patient to receive appropriate medical care at a hospital.  The challenge is if they are able to get her to the hospital, what will we put her on?  Our stretchers do not accomodate her weight, neither do our hospital beds.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Obesity leads to multiple medical problems, many of which you all already know so I won't repeat or lecture.  How do we solve this?  Can we?  I don't think we can.  But we must prepare for heavier and heavier patients as we see more of them every day.  We must prepare not only for the physical demands of caring for them, but also the mental demands.  We must figure out how to develop a plan of care for every other disease process that accompanies the obesity, and then we must plan how to complete the plan of care without interacting with treatments for the other diseases/conditions.  It's a never ending cycle.  One with a pretty scary ending.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/20390026-1390098188138984027?l=errn.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://errn.blogspot.com/feeds/1390098188138984027/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=20390026&amp;postID=1390098188138984027&amp;isPopup=true' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20390026/posts/default/1390098188138984027'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20390026/posts/default/1390098188138984027'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://errn.blogspot.com/2008/02/challenges-of-obesity.html' title='Challenges of Obesity'/><author><name>Julie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02449209908197785539</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='12' src='http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v55/obliviousmama/ERRN.gif'/></author><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20390026.post-7688015456603840423</id><published>2008-02-22T19:29:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-02-22T19:35:01.625-08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='vicodin'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='drug seekers'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='faking injury'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='faking injuries'/><title type='text'>Just the Pills Please Miss</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: verdana;"&gt;I can't always remember what I've already posted on this blog and I'm too damn lazy to scroll back through everything I've written, so this may be a repeat story.  I don't really know............or care.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Bob came in holding his right ribs complaining that he had fallen off the back of a truck 15 minutes prior.  He stated his pain level was 10/10.  I took him back to an exam room immediately and started my assessment.  I had him undress and put a gown on.  That's when I got a good view of his injured area.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I shook my head.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Bob, what really happened?"  I asked.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Huh?  What?  I told you," he replied.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Bob, I know you're not telling me the truth.  What do you want?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Bob hung his head and said "I just want some Vicodin."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Well, you're not gonna get it.  Anything else we can do for you?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Nah, I'll just go home."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Bob's injured area was a small abrasion approx 2 X 3 inches which was mostly scabbed over.  He had picked portions of the scab off to make it bleed.  He thought he could pass that off as an acute injury.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Not on this nurse.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I had 3 more interactions with Bob over the next 2 weeks.  He finally got to the point where if he saw me as his ER nurse, he turned and walked out the door.  Eventually he moved across the state.  Wonder if I had anything to do with that or not?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/20390026-7688015456603840423?l=errn.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://errn.blogspot.com/feeds/7688015456603840423/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=20390026&amp;postID=7688015456603840423&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20390026/posts/default/7688015456603840423'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20390026/posts/default/7688015456603840423'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://errn.blogspot.com/2008/02/just-pills-please-miss.html' title='Just the Pills Please Miss'/><author><name>Julie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02449209908197785539</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='12' src='http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v55/obliviousmama/ERRN.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20390026.post-7599166237729186716</id><published>2008-02-22T19:24:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2012-01-03T15:33:36.053-08:00</updated><title type='text'>My naughty habits</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;I love dirty jokes.  The raunchier the better.  Sexist, chauvinistic, pigheaded, dirty jokes make me laugh until I cry, and the ER is a terrific place to hear them.  I get 'em from coworkers, doctors, and even the patients.  I must have a sign on my head that says "naughty girl" or something.  People feel free to have verbal diarrhea around me and I adore it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I ain't right in the head.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I was introduced to the whole naughty joke genre by my grandmother when I was around 11 or 12.  She told me a joke involving a mouse, a pussy, and a tattoo.  I was hooked.  I made her tell me all the ones she knew.  I have a cool grandma like that.  Aren't you jealous?  Now she starts happy hour at noon and has an even larger repertoire.   I love her.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;If you are a patient in my ER, please bring a dirty joke along.  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/20390026-7599166237729186716?l=errn.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://errn.blogspot.com/feeds/7599166237729186716/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=20390026&amp;postID=7599166237729186716&amp;isPopup=true' title='5 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20390026/posts/default/7599166237729186716'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20390026/posts/default/7599166237729186716'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://errn.blogspot.com/2008/02/my-naughty-habits.html' title='My naughty habits'/><author><name>Julie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02449209908197785539</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='12' src='http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v55/obliviousmama/ERRN.gif'/></author><thr:total>5</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20390026.post-8893590972253960559</id><published>2008-02-17T18:04:00.001-08:00</published><updated>2008-02-17T18:04:39.946-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Bring It On!</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: verdana;"&gt;I made the mistake of opening my big fat mouth and being a smart ass to Dr. Q.  Shocking, isn't it?  I know.  I found him slamming things down at the nurse's station, mumbling to himself about fighting with insurance companies and being disrespected by the patients.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Hey Dr Q  - you wanna take this outside?"  I said with my fists held up in front of my chest.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He rips off his lab jacket, grabs my arm, and says "Hell yes!  Let's go!"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"I NEED BACKUP!"  I screamed as he pulled me out the double doors and into the grassy area beside the ambulance bay.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Fresh snow on the ground.  10 fresh inches of the white shit.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My comrades got there just as he lobbed the first snowball straight at my face.  I ducked, and Lucy took it in the eyes.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The fight was on!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;15 minutes later exhausted, dripping wet, and crying with laughter we all tromped back into the ER.  The rest of our shift was a breeze, even though we had 2 trauma's, a code, and 10 or so drug seekers.  It's easy to deal with stuff like that when you have a little stress relief snowball fight.  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/20390026-8893590972253960559?l=errn.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://errn.blogspot.com/feeds/8893590972253960559/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=20390026&amp;postID=8893590972253960559&amp;isPopup=true' title='6 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20390026/posts/default/8893590972253960559'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20390026/posts/default/8893590972253960559'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://errn.blogspot.com/2008/02/bring-it-on.html' title='Bring It On!'/><author><name>Julie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02449209908197785539</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='12' src='http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v55/obliviousmama/ERRN.gif'/></author><thr:total>6</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20390026.post-1290322793843346188</id><published>2008-02-17T17:37:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-02-17T18:04:16.909-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Drumroll Please..........</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: verdana;"&gt;Cathy stood in the hallway with the adult diaper in her hand.  She was telling her RN that something wasn't right with the patient's stool.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Just smell it," she said.  "It's not right."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"I'm not going to smell it!" Lucy replied.  "What the hell?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"I'm telling you - something's not right!  Wait, let me......" Cathy brought the diaper up to her face and licked it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"OH MY GOD!!!!!!!"  We heard Lucy yell.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Laughter surrounded her as we all knew Cathy had put chocolate pudding on the diaper.  Lucy about shit herself watching Cathy lick that diaper.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Medical people are a quirky lot.  We have to relieve tension with &lt;a href="http://errn.blogspot.com/2006/01/so-its-slow-day.html"&gt;laughter and joking&lt;/a&gt; or we would never survive our shift, let alone our career.  I am lucky enough to work with people who enjoy a good joke, whether receiving or giving.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We have a Paramedic who is insanely in love with his rig.  I'm talking on the verge of a psychological disorder.  Ripe for the picking in other words, and boy did I do the picking.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I took a picture of his rig and made about 20 For Sale posters with his work extension on it.  I hung them all over the hospital and got everyone to call him asking about buying his rig.  All for the low, low price of $5,000.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;His vehicle was worth well over $50,000.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Approximately one hour into the shift I see Paramedic Pete charging through the doors of the ER.  For some reason I felt the need to run.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"WHAT THE HELL WERE YOU THINKING?!!!???" he yelled.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Poor sport.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"THAT'S NOT EVEN FUNNY JULIE!  NOT ONE BIT FUNNY!"  he yelled again.  By this time his face was red, spittle was flying out of his mouth, and he was shaking his fist in the air.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Oh my.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I couldn't help it - I started laughing.  He just looked so damn funny.  That calmed him down a bit and he started snickering.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Damn you, leave my car alone," he smiled as he walked away.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Five days later, I was drenched with a basin full of water as I was walking out of the trauma bay, stripping off my yellow gown.  I stood there sputtering and trying to breathe through the 2 cups of water that I inhaled right as it hit.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I heard laughter all around me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"I told you to leave my car alone,"  I heard Pete say through his laughter.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"I .....cough cough......think I ......sputter, cough, snort......need......cough......intubated," I gasped.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Dr Q walked by just at that time, slapped me on the back and said "Nah - if you can talk, you can breathe."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/20390026-1290322793843346188?l=errn.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://errn.blogspot.com/feeds/1290322793843346188/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=20390026&amp;postID=1290322793843346188&amp;isPopup=true' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20390026/posts/default/1290322793843346188'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20390026/posts/default/1290322793843346188'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://errn.blogspot.com/2008/02/drumroll-please.html' title='Drumroll Please..........'/><author><name>Julie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02449209908197785539</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='12' src='http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v55/obliviousmama/ERRN.gif'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20390026.post-3014049083295470990</id><published>2008-02-17T17:19:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-02-17T17:26:13.689-08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='drunk as hell'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='high blood alchol'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='alcohol level'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='drunk'/><title type='text'>Too Drunk to F*@k</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: verdana;"&gt;Apparently we had a new record in our ER on Friday night. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;.631&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I know - I didn't believe it either.  I thought the nurse was totally shitting me.  An alcohol level of .631?  "Whatever," I replied.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;They ran the test 3 times just to be sure.  They ran controls on the machine.  It was correct.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I cannot even imagine living a life where you are still able to live and breathe at a .631.  That means this man has built up a tolerance over the years to be able to be completely pickled and probably walks around at a .3 on a normal day.  Scary, isn't it?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then I stumbled upon &lt;a href="http://www.foxnews.com/story/0,2933,321747,00.html"&gt;this&lt;/a&gt; little gem surfing the net today.  Holy crap.  This is what our kids will face on the road as alcoholism becomes more rampant and people build a tolerance level that is insane.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sigh..........&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/20390026-3014049083295470990?l=errn.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://errn.blogspot.com/feeds/3014049083295470990/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=20390026&amp;postID=3014049083295470990&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20390026/posts/default/3014049083295470990'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20390026/posts/default/3014049083295470990'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://errn.blogspot.com/2008/02/too-drunk-to-fk.html' title='Too Drunk to F*@k'/><author><name>Julie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02449209908197785539</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='12' src='http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v55/obliviousmama/ERRN.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20390026.post-9221306063519107015</id><published>2008-02-13T23:45:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-02-13T23:56:09.734-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Back Again?</title><content type='html'>I was a patient in my own ER last night, and can I just say right now that that ain't right.  You should never have to be treated by those you work with.  There is no need for your coworkers to know your STD history.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Just kidding.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I only hurt my back.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Nursing is notorious for back injuries.  Why?  Well, because.  We clean your ass, move your ass, and lift your ass - which makes for some back breaking work.  And apparently, it's not a good thing to lunge to the left to catch a patient who is falling.  Not just any patient, but a mom who has just delivered a baby, has a weak leg from an epidural, and weighs about 250 lbs. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But seriously.............who's really going to let her fall?  No nurse that I know of, yet that is what I was told to do next time.  "Let the patient fall," they said. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sure thing.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;(Insert eye roll here.  Add one huge sigh and a shaking of the head)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So Dr. Q saw me in the ER.  He walked into the room, shook his head, and handed me a prescription for Vicodin.  He loves me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Diagnosis?  Back pain with Radiculopathy.   The worst part is the burning sensation in my hip and down my leg.  He said it should go away with rest and steroids.  He gave me the vicodin just because he knows he needs to keep me in a good mood.   He knows me like that.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/20390026-9221306063519107015?l=errn.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://errn.blogspot.com/feeds/9221306063519107015/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=20390026&amp;postID=9221306063519107015&amp;isPopup=true' title='6 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20390026/posts/default/9221306063519107015'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20390026/posts/default/9221306063519107015'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://errn.blogspot.com/2008/02/back-again.html' title='Back Again?'/><author><name>Julie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02449209908197785539</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='12' src='http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v55/obliviousmama/ERRN.gif'/></author><thr:total>6</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20390026.post-8582681050865296309</id><published>2008-02-08T19:40:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-02-08T19:51:23.895-08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='wounds'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='maggot therapy'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='maggot wounds'/><title type='text'>The Things We Talk About</title><content type='html'>I washed maggots out of a wound one day.   Real, live, squiggling maggots.  Apparently, Mr. Hygiene was performing his own wound cleansing via maggot therapy.  Unfortunately, he wasn't doing it on purpose.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I was telling the story to Lucy one day over lunch.  We were sitting in the break room discussing the grossest things we had come across when I starting telling her about the pulsating mass of maggots.   Sally came in behind us as I was elaborating on the little critters.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"It was just vomit inducing Lucy," I said, taking a bite of my lunch.  "They were squirming all around and I could hear them from across the room.  They were swimming in a pool of juicy body fluid - it was disgusting."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Suddenly I heard Sally retch and run for the sink.  Lucy twirled her chair around while I swung my head to the right, fork poised midway to my mouth.  Sally looked up and me and instantly vomited in the sink.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"What?" I shrugged at Lucy.  She started laughing as she pointed to my lunch.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I was eating rice and gravy.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/20390026-8582681050865296309?l=errn.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://errn.blogspot.com/feeds/8582681050865296309/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=20390026&amp;postID=8582681050865296309&amp;isPopup=true' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20390026/posts/default/8582681050865296309'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20390026/posts/default/8582681050865296309'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://errn.blogspot.com/2008/02/things-we-talk-about.html' title='The Things We Talk About'/><author><name>Julie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02449209908197785539</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='12' src='http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v55/obliviousmama/ERRN.gif'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20390026.post-4635728569240545322</id><published>2008-02-08T17:12:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-02-08T19:38:08.262-08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Dear Penis'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='operation'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Rodney Carrington'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Recovery Room'/><title type='text'>Dear Penis</title><content type='html'>They called me back to the recovery room around 11:30 AM.  I had traveled across state lines to be with my friend Kiki while she underwent a cystoscopy and a lithotripsy.  Basically they wanted to blast a kidney stone and sneak a peak at her pisser while she was under.  Good times.  Good times.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I walked back through the recovery room hallways and rounded the corner to find Kiki wrapped head to toe in blankets.  She looked like a mummy.  A mummy who had imbibed in a little too much preserving fluids, if you know what I mean.  Higher than a kite on a windy day.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Hey Julie - I got a song for ya," she says.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Oh Lord.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Giggle Giggle.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Hey - have you heard that penis song?" she asks.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now let me preface this by saying that the stretchers in the recovery room are separated by curtains only.  No auditory privacy.  None.  Zip.  Zero.  She then performs her first concert for the entire room.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Deeeeeeeeeear Penis.............I don't think I liiiiiiiike you anymoooore................"  she sings like a wino on the end of a 3 day binge.   I hear snickers coming from the other side of the curtain.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Oh!  Wait Wait!" she says.  "I'm gonna call Eric and sing it to him."  I can't get to the stretcher fast enough - she has him on speed dial.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Deeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeear Eric - I don't think I liiiiiiiike you anymooooooore," she sings into the cell phone as he picks up.  I just shake my head.  I hear someone snorting beside us.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I wish I had been smart enough to whip out my cell  phone and video her.  Alas, I missed it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'll give you the next best thing - Rodney Carrington singing his own Dear Penis song:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;object height="355" width="425"&gt;&lt;param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/Hez0oL5WTBQ&amp;amp;rel=1"&gt;&lt;param name="wmode" value="transparent"&gt;&lt;embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/Hez0oL5WTBQ&amp;amp;rel=1" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" wmode="transparent" height="355" width="425"&gt;&lt;/embed&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/20390026-4635728569240545322?l=errn.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://errn.blogspot.com/feeds/4635728569240545322/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=20390026&amp;postID=4635728569240545322&amp;isPopup=true' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20390026/posts/default/4635728569240545322'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20390026/posts/default/4635728569240545322'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://errn.blogspot.com/2008/02/dear-penis.html' title='Dear Penis'/><author><name>Julie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02449209908197785539</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='12' src='http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v55/obliviousmama/ERRN.gif'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20390026.post-7318597316492344308</id><published>2008-01-23T18:16:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-01-23T18:18:03.812-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: verdana;"&gt;I love this little guy.  He just represents so much that can be left unsaid.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img src="http://i99.photobucket.com/albums/l312/Motownmaniax/doctor.gif" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/20390026-7318597316492344308?l=errn.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://errn.blogspot.com/feeds/7318597316492344308/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=20390026&amp;postID=7318597316492344308&amp;isPopup=true' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20390026/posts/default/7318597316492344308'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20390026/posts/default/7318597316492344308'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://errn.blogspot.com/2008/01/i-love-this-little-guy.html' title=''/><author><name>Julie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02449209908197785539</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='12' src='http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v55/obliviousmama/ERRN.gif'/></author><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20390026.post-633709001450256442</id><published>2008-01-22T18:21:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-01-22T18:32:06.367-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Ode to the Name</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://highlytrainedmonkey.blogspot.com/2008/01/name-of-week.html"&gt;This post&lt;/a&gt; over at Musings of a Highly Trained Monkey stirred the recesses of my spiderweb covered brain and handed forth a few memories of crazy names I've come across.  I often wonder if parents are seriously as stupid as they look or if they plan to slowly and deliberately torture their children as they go through school.   Are they handing down retribution to their children for when they were made fun of in school?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Well, I had to toughen up pretty quick when I peed on the teeter totter and all the kids called me Peeter-Potter until 12th grade.  I'll show them!  I'll name my kid.........."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Diarrhea.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I shit you not.  No pun intended of course.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Pronounced Dee-Ar-ee-a&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I stood there with the chart in my hand for a good 2 minutes.  I stared at it not believing what I was seeing.  I ran through every pronunciation in my head and I still could not wrap my tongue around it. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I hesitated.  Fumbled a bit.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Ummm.......de.....duh......um....."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Oh!  That's us!  It's  dee-ar-ee-a."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Um, okay.  Come on back."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As I settled them at the triage desk I asked what they were here for.  Yes, you guessed it...........&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Diarrhea had Diarrhea.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sigh...........&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/20390026-633709001450256442?l=errn.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://errn.blogspot.com/feeds/633709001450256442/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=20390026&amp;postID=633709001450256442&amp;isPopup=true' title='6 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20390026/posts/default/633709001450256442'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20390026/posts/default/633709001450256442'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://errn.blogspot.com/2008/01/ode-to-name.html' title='Ode to the Name'/><author><name>Julie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02449209908197785539</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='12' src='http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v55/obliviousmama/ERRN.gif'/></author><thr:total>6</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20390026.post-7291089954497098915</id><published>2008-01-21T19:53:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-01-21T20:14:36.657-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Chicken Nuggets</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;font-size:130%;"&gt;We had a patient a few years ago that I'll call Mr. ChickenNugget. Oh, Mr. ChickenNugget was a joy to take care of. He came staggering in to the ER lobby clutching his belly and shouting "I BEEN STABBED! I BEEN STABBED!" The triage nurse escorted him back to her room and did a quick assessment.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;She pulled open the lower half of his shirt and saw a small amount of blood smeared around his belly button. There appeared to be a tiny puncture wound in the middle of the blood. Initial vitals were absolutely normal.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"What were you stabbed with, Mr. ChickenNugget?" she asked.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"A Screwdriver! He got me with a screwdriver!"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Apparently, Mr. ChickenNugget was approached by "just some dude" in the Safeway parking lot when he was viciously (and for no apparent reason of course) stabbed with a phillips head screwdriver. He walked the 2 blocks to the hospital himself.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Triage Teresa brought him back to Exam Room 1 and gave me report. I went in to do my assessment on Mr. ChickenNugget, pulling the bedside ultrasound unit behind me. I figured Dr. Q would want to do a quick FAST scan.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I told Mr. ChickenNugget to take his clothes off and I would give him a gown. I turned around and reached into the cupboard next to the sink and grabbed the gown, an IV start kit, and some lab tubes. I turned back around with the gown in hand and immediately started laughing. I hate to admit it, but yes.............I laughed at my patient.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He had a tattoo over each nipple. On the right it said "SWEET" and on the left it said "SOUR". I shit you not.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;How can you not laugh at that?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Mr. ChickenNugget followed my line of sight to his own chest and started laughing too.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"That's what happens when you get drunk and go to a tattoo parlor with your buddies," he said.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I immediately placed that on my &lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;What Not To Do In Life&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt; list.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;font-size:130%;"&gt;So it turned out that he had not even been stabbed.  There was a small abrasion on his abdomen but no depth to the wound.  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;font-size:130%;"&gt;Mr. ChickenNugget had been scratched by a screwdriver.  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;font-size:130%;"&gt;I still think about him any time we have a stabbing come in. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/20390026-7291089954497098915?l=errn.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://errn.blogspot.com/feeds/7291089954497098915/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=20390026&amp;postID=7291089954497098915&amp;isPopup=true' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20390026/posts/default/7291089954497098915'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20390026/posts/default/7291089954497098915'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://errn.blogspot.com/2008/01/chicken-nuggets.html' title='Chicken Nuggets'/><author><name>Julie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02449209908197785539</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='12' src='http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v55/obliviousmama/ERRN.gif'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20390026.post-2936270362468126370</id><published>2008-01-21T19:40:00.001-08:00</published><updated>2008-01-21T19:46:54.970-08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='ER on NBC'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='ER critique'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='ER'/><title type='text'>ER on NBC</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;font-size:130%;"&gt;Last Thursday's episode kept me so entertained that I fell asleep..............15 minutes into it. Sorry &lt;/span&gt;&lt;a href="http://thet-dude.blogspot.com/"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;font-size:130%;"&gt;T-Dude&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;font-size:130%;"&gt;. Once again I have no wonderful insight (heehee) on the episode. I can't even remember the first 15 minutes that I did watch.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Maybe next time I'll down some caffeine, take a couple of NoDoz (do they even still make those?), eat a bunch of sugar, and then plant my ass in front of the TV on the floor and not in the big, fluffy, overstuffed Lazy-Boy recliner. That was my downfall. A comfy chair, a cozy blanket, and a glass of whine, oops I mean wine. I was asleep as fast as a woman who likes to "shop around" gets called a whore in Southern Mississippi.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/20390026-2936270362468126370?l=errn.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://errn.blogspot.com/feeds/2936270362468126370/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=20390026&amp;postID=2936270362468126370&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20390026/posts/default/2936270362468126370'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20390026/posts/default/2936270362468126370'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://errn.blogspot.com/2008/01/er-on-nbc.html' title='ER on NBC'/><author><name>Julie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02449209908197785539</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='12' src='http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v55/obliviousmama/ERRN.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20390026.post-6662036673366142669</id><published>2008-01-20T11:40:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-01-21T19:48:41.863-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Once Again For Your Viewing Pleasure</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;I know this has made the internet rounds a few times, but I laugh every single time I read it. A friend sent it to me via email, but I also saw it again today posted over at &lt;/span&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.nursingvoices.com/"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;Nursing Voices&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;. Hope you enjoy!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Come to think of it, this may produce a few more entries from me as I remember stories that go along with some of these. People are amazing creatures.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Subject: You know you are a nurse when&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;1) the front of your scrubs reads "Nurses... here to save your ass, not kiss it!"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;2) you occasionally park in the space with the "physicians only" sign... and knock it over.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;3) you believe some patients are alive only because it's illegal to kill them.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;4) you recognize that you can't cure stupid.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;5) you own at least three pens with the names of prescription medications on them.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;6) you believe there's a special place for the inventor of the call light.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;7) you believe that saying "it can't get any worse" causes it to get worse just to show you it can.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;8) you wash your hands BEFORE you go to the bathroom.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;9) you believe that any job where you can drive to work in your pajamas is a cool one.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;10) you consider a tongue depressor an eating utensil.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;11) eating microwave popcorn out of a clean bedpan is perfectly natural.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;12) you've been exposed to so many x-rays that you consider it a form of birth control.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;13) you've ever heard a patient with a nose ring, a brow ring, and twelve earrings say "I'm afraid of shots."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;14) you've ever placed a bet on someone's blood alcohol level.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;15) you've told a confused patient that your name is that of a coworker and to call if they need help.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;16) your bladder can expand to the size of a Winnebago's water tank.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;17) you have seen more penises than any prostitute could dream of.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;18) you believe that not all patients are annoying... some are unconscious.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;19) your family and friends refuse to watch medical sitcoms with you because you spend the whole time correcting everyone and pointing out upside down x-rays.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;20) you don't get excited about blood, unless it's your own.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;21) you've sworn to have "do not resuscitate" tattooed on your chest. Soon.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;22) discussing dismemberment over a gourmet meal is perfectly normal to you.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;23) your idea of fine dining is anywhere you can sit down to eat.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;24) your idea of a good time is a cardiac arrest at shift change.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;25) you believe in the aerial spraying of Prozac.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;26) you believe that "shallow gene pool" should be a recognized diagnosis.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;27) you believe that the government should require permits to reproduce.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;28) you believe that unspeakable evils will befall anyone who utters the phrase: "Wow, it's really quiet, isn't it?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;29) you have ever wanted to write a book entitled "Suicide: getting it right the first time."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;30) you have ever had a patient look you straight in the eye ad say "I have no idea how that got stuck in/on/up there."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;31) you've had to leave a patient's room before you begin to laugh uncontrollably.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/20390026-6662036673366142669?l=errn.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://errn.blogspot.com/feeds/6662036673366142669/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=20390026&amp;postID=6662036673366142669&amp;isPopup=true' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20390026/posts/default/6662036673366142669'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20390026/posts/default/6662036673366142669'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://errn.blogspot.com/2008/01/i-know-this-has-made-internet-rounds.html' title='Once Again For Your Viewing Pleasure'/><author><name>Julie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02449209908197785539</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='12' src='http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v55/obliviousmama/ERRN.gif'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20390026.post-768979838893280139</id><published>2008-01-16T19:41:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-01-16T19:51:39.644-08:00</updated><title type='text'>The Elderly and UTI's</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;"&gt;I walked into the room at 11 PM and was met with the sight of a 78 year old naked lady laying spread eagle on the stretcher.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Oh my.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Mrs. Smith, you're naked," I said.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Oh my,"  she giggled.  "Am I?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I giggled back.  "Yes, you are.  Let's cover you back up."  I put her gown back on and pulled the blankets back up over her body.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;She laughed.  "OK dear, let's do that."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I rounded on her 30 minutes later.  She was naked again.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Mrs. Smith.  You're naked again!"  I couldn't help but laugh.  She had a huge smile on her face, her arms were thrown back over her head, and she was giggling again.  Like a little school girl.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Oh my........giggle, giggle.........did I do that again?  HeeHee."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Let's pull these covers back up," I said as I put her gown on her and replaced her blankets once again.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Thank you dear!"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I went to check on my chest pain patient next door.  I returned to see Mrs. Smith in another 30 minutes.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Naked again.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Laughing hysterically.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Mrs. Smith!  What are you doing?" I laughed.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"What dearie?" she replied.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"You are naked again!" &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Oh my.........snicker, giggle......again?  Oh my.....heehee.  I don't know why I keep doing that.  Giggle."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;She was so pleasantly confused she then pulled out her catheter.  She stared at it and started laughing.  "What's this thing?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I couldn't help myself.  I was laughing so hard I had tears coming down my face.  She thought everything she did was the most hilarious thing she'd ever seen, which in turn made me want to spend all my time in her room.  She was extremely entertaining.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;She finally settled down for the night and fell asleep...........naked.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/20390026-768979838893280139?l=errn.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://errn.blogspot.com/feeds/768979838893280139/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=20390026&amp;postID=768979838893280139&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20390026/posts/default/768979838893280139'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20390026/posts/default/768979838893280139'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://errn.blogspot.com/2008/01/elderly-and-utis.html' title='The Elderly and UTI&apos;s'/><author><name>Julie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02449209908197785539</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='12' src='http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v55/obliviousmama/ERRN.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20390026.post-7621179738084690540</id><published>2008-01-16T19:29:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-01-16T19:41:16.542-08:00</updated><title type='text'>One Flew Over the Cuckoo's Nest</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;I was sitting at the desk in ER the other day (why do a lot of my stories begin like this?  Does this say something about where I spend most of my time?), when I heard a chirp.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"What the hell?"  I said.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Chirp, chirp.  Chirp, chirp.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I suddenly remembered my &lt;a href="http://errn.blogspot.com/2008/01/something-is-very-very-wrong-here.html"&gt;previous conversation&lt;/a&gt; with the EMS guys and figured they were playing a little game with me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"I know it's those assholes with a bird call.  I'm not even turning around," I said to myself.  "I'll just sit here and continue charting and then walk away."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So I did.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The chirping got louder.  Angrier.  More frantic.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I giggled.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"They're not going to get me.  Not this time."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I have a long standing relationship with my EMS crew.  We love jokes.  The more embarrassing, the better.  The more we can make the other look like an ass, the better.  I love those guys!  We have so much fun.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So hence, I ignored them.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Chirp!  Chirp Chirp!  CHIRP CHIRP CHIRP CHIRP CHIRP!!!!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Snicker.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I started whistling back.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Whistle Whistle.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Chirp Chirp.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Suckers,"  I thought.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Suddenly my pharmacist came around the edge of the desk.  "Hey Julie, did you know there's a bird in your ER?" she said.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"No, that's just the EMS guys trying to be stupid.  They have some bird call or something they're playing with."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"No it's a bird," she replied.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"No it's not.  Really.  They're getting me back from the other day."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"No Julie.  It's a bird.  It's right there............"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I looked up to see her pointing down the hallway.  I stood up, leaned over the desk, and saw the damn bird - sitting right in the middle of the hallway.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Chirp Chirp!  Chirp Chirp!  He cocked his head as he talked to me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sigh................... Yes, apparently I am that stupid.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;4 nurses, 6 slammed doors, and 18 cuss words later we had the bird in our hands and escorted him back outside for his return home.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;15 minutes later the EMS crew was standing in the double doors pointing and laughing at me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;All in a day's work.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/20390026-7621179738084690540?l=errn.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://errn.blogspot.com/feeds/7621179738084690540/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=20390026&amp;postID=7621179738084690540&amp;isPopup=true' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20390026/posts/default/7621179738084690540'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20390026/posts/default/7621179738084690540'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://errn.blogspot.com/2008/01/one-flew-over-cuckoos-nest.html' title='One Flew Over the Cuckoo&apos;s Nest'/><author><name>Julie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02449209908197785539</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='12' src='http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v55/obliviousmama/ERRN.gif'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20390026.post-27723261920556074</id><published>2008-01-12T20:58:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-01-12T21:07:34.166-08:00</updated><title type='text'>I Know What's Important</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;You never know how valuable soda is until you are doing medical disaster work after a Hurricane and you are trading favors for Diet Coke.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Not those kind of favors!  Get your mind out of the gutter.  At least for a little while.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When I went to Mississippi with a group of nurses after Hurricane Katrina, we found that it's the little things you miss.  The little things like Diet Coke.  One of our nurses finagled a case of DC from some volunteer firefighters (I don't even WANT to know how) and we protected it like a meth head protects his last hit from his girlfriend's cousin's sister.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We had it wrapped up in our bedrolls, hidden from prying eyes.  Whenever we felt the need to imbibe, we attacked the gym like Navy Seals on a mission to save the only person who knows the code to stop the nuclear bomb from exploding.  One lookout, one distractor, one to grab the soda, one to hide it on a sideways pass, and one to just stand there and look good.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When we flew out and landed at the airport in Minneapolis, I think I downed 3 Diet Cokes within the first 10 minutes on solid ground.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It's the little things in life that matter.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/20390026-27723261920556074?l=errn.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://errn.blogspot.com/feeds/27723261920556074/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=20390026&amp;postID=27723261920556074&amp;isPopup=true' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20390026/posts/default/27723261920556074'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20390026/posts/default/27723261920556074'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://errn.blogspot.com/2008/01/i-know-whats-important.html' title='I Know What&apos;s Important'/><author><name>Julie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02449209908197785539</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='12' src='http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v55/obliviousmama/ERRN.gif'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20390026.post-4256630467892070099</id><published>2008-01-08T21:07:00.001-08:00</published><updated>2008-01-08T21:24:16.421-08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='hit deer'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='bike wreck'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='ER'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='bicycle'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='deer'/><title type='text'>Oh The Joys of Rural Living</title><content type='html'>Mr. Estupido did the smart thing and rode his bicycle to the bar to drink his 8 Rum and Cokes and 6 Bud Lights.  He hopped his ass on that bike and pedaled fast and furious down the road to fulfill his nightly ritual.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;That was about the only smart thing he did.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Around 11 PM he decided it was time to go home.  He staggered out to the bike rack (as a side note - how many bars do you know of that have a bike rack?  Hmmm?  I'm not talking in the big city here - it's redneckville 100%), swung his leg over the middle bar, and promptly fell over.  He had a nice long gash above his right eye and a few scratches on his right arm.   He tried again.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And fell again.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You'd think that the people watching from inside the bar would help him.  Nope.  It's much funner to point and laugh (I have to admit I'd probably be laughing too).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;On the third try he got it right.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He then pulled out of the drive and headed down the sidewalk towards home, blood running down his face.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;About 3/4 of a mile down the road, he thought he saw something in the ditch by the golf course.   His curiosity (that word just looks wrong) got the best of him and he went to investigate.  Now I have told you all before what happens when you let your curiosity take control.  It's a bad, bad, bad thing.  Why can't we just say no?  I know, I know.  It's impossible.  Sigh..................&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anyway, Mr. Estupido steers his bicycle toward the ditch.  He squints his eyes to try and see more clearly, but the blood from his cut is clouding his vision.  He tries to wipe it away with his arm, but only succeeds in making more of a mess.  Wait, wait!  He knows there is something there, he can see it moving!  What is it?  What is.........&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;OH SHIT!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He hits a deer.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;On a bicycle.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Yes............... he did.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My first thought when I heard the EMS tones go off for a "bicycle vs. deer" was &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;"you have got to be fucking kidding me."&lt;/span&gt;  They weren't.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He ended up with a broken arm, 2 more cuts on his face (plus the original one), and an alcohol level of .320&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The deer ran off.  Unhurt we would suppose.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/20390026-4256630467892070099?l=errn.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://errn.blogspot.com/feeds/4256630467892070099/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=20390026&amp;postID=4256630467892070099&amp;isPopup=true' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20390026/posts/default/4256630467892070099'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20390026/posts/default/4256630467892070099'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://errn.blogspot.com/2008/01/oh-joys-of-rural-living.html' title='Oh The Joys of Rural Living'/><author><name>Julie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02449209908197785539</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='12' src='http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v55/obliviousmama/ERRN.gif'/></author><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry></feed>
