Sorry, nice man...

But I couldn't handle you being nice to me the other day.

I was running around like a crazy person on a night when we were packed to the rafters. I was supposed to have the "easy" area, the one including the asthma chairs. But there were people with abscesses, and possible DVTs, and pneumonia in there. And because we were working short, I had several other rooms. And because one of those rooms was a monitored room, I got an ICU patient who needed CVP monitoring. I also had two psych patients who could barely keep from fighting with each other. People were (justifiably) bitching about their long waits, and for some reason, they all kept asking ME (instead of their own doctor or nurse) about when they would be seen, and could they have a sandwich, blah blah blah. One man was rummaging around in a cabinet, and when I asked him if I could help him, he said he wanted a straw (a hot commodity in our ED) for his wife, who was in another nurse's area. I went back into our staff lounge and dug one up and then ran off on my busy way.

The patients kept coming, my CVP guy was becoming increasingly more unstable, and I was feeling incredibly overwhelmed, being buttonholed by docs every other minute about orders for their patients, and feeling unable to keep up with everything I had to do.

I was standing at my desk putting together an IV setup when the gentleman for whom I had found the straw came over. He looked me in the eye and said, "You know, I've been watching you. Everyone around here looks busy, but you're the only one who is actually DOING something."

I stared at him for a second and said, "Well, thank you, that's very nice to say."

He touched my hand and said, "I really mean it."

My eyes immediately began to well up with tears, and rather than completely lose it, I snatched my had away, averted my eyes, mumbled, "thanks," and sped away, so he wouldn't see me get upset. I feel really bad about blowing him off, but I couldn't take it.

So, thanks, nice man, for nursing the nurse.

I'm snippy!

Apparently.

We had a very busy evening last night. People were being packed in like sardines, many were very sick, and there were people waiting outside for hours upon hours. I had EIGHT SKIJILLION patients.

And then the husband of one of them comes over and says, "Excuse me, I don't think it's right."

"What's not right sir?"

"My wife has to share a spot with some other lady, and I don't think it's right. She needs to be moved to another room."

I blinked at him. All around, people were in stretchers in the hallway, doctors rushing around, the asthma chair area was packed with people in seats we had dragged in from the waiting room, alarm bells going off. It was chaos. The man's wife was in a room with a little old lady who had been moaning in pain, but who had stopped and drifted to sleep after I gave her some medication. No stinky wounds, no poop dripping on the floor, no urine-stained reeking bedclothes.

"Sir, it's very busy today, and unfortunately, the ambulances haven't stopped coming. There are quite a few people sharing their rooms. I'm sorry it's that way, but it has to be like this for now."

"We pay good money to this hospital, and I think she should have her own room."

"I do too, but right now it's not possible. I'm sorry."

He huffed away. The woman's roommate was pulled out of the room for a CT scan, and when she returned, the transport tech notified me that he couldn't get the stretcher back in the room. I went over to see what was wrong. The husband had moved his wife's stretcher to the middle of the spot, and had barricaded them in with three chairs piled high with her stuff.

"I'm sorry, we have to move you folks over a little bit, and remove some of these chairs so this lady can come back to her spot," I said as sweetly as I could.

"But she left! This is our spot now!"

I took a deep breath. "Listen to me. I have explained to you that for now, you will have to share a place with this woman. It is not acceptable to block the space with your things or to move the bed over. Please let me move it back."

Of course, now the inevitable: "I think you have a bad attitude, Nurse. Who is your supervisor? I need to speak with your supervisor." I wearily pointed him out, about 20 feet away, amusedly watching the situation.

Of course, he got an earful. Later our manager came up to me and said, winking, "You know, apparently you're snippy! I'm going to have to put that in your permanent record!"

Overheard in the ER

A 60-year-old grandpa singing "Always and Forever" to his little 5-month-old baby granddaughter who was visiting him. I don't think there was a dry eye in the house.

Here's a reminder: