Aaahhh.

This weekend has been better than a glass of red wine after a 12 hour shift.

Yes, that good.

I mean, I still did some schoolworks, namely process recording and care plan, but it was minimal compare to the time I spent doing other things, which is a reverse from the usual.

I got to go out with my friends and family. I got to not worry about studying for exams. I got to bake. I got to be silly and laughs freely. I got to spend time outside of my home and the hospitals. I got to play games. I got to go to a sleepover with the girls. I got to drink socially, not to relieve stress. I got to dance. I got to eat till I felt like exploding. I got to party. I got to have girlschat to the wee hour of the morning. I got to take pictures and practice taking good pictures. I got to relax on my bed with laptop on my lap editing pictures.

I got to have fun and live a normal life again. It was wonderful.

Granted, finals prep begin next week. I have to resume the abnormal life even during Thanksgiving week because we have what we have termed the "Non-HESI HESI" (don't ask) a week after Turkey Day, so studying will be on full swing soon enough until finals are over on the 10th. Then, I get to live normally again until my last semester starts January 20th. I just said last semester, oh goodness gracious how could it be.... I'll girl flip out about that later.

So this weekend was nice, I wish tomorrow wasn't Monday. But then again, I always wish tomorrow wasn't Monday every Sunday. So...yeah....

I hope your weekend was great, too.
From the bachelorette party:

Clumsy McKlutzy.

I had just spilled Starbucks all over me right as lecture began this morning.

Great.

It's one of those bottled frappuccino. I thought there was a only a little left in the bottle, so I tilted the bottle more, and well, out poured those brown sticky liquid. At least I sat all the way to the back so probably (and hopefully) no one saw my prime moment there. However, my shirt is now covered with coffee stain and I smell like spilled coffee.

Great.

Oh, and yesterday I dropped my Kolache. I truly have impaired motor function....

But anyway, this week is one of those non-stop kind of week, but in a good way. I think....

1. Monday was an exam and class until the evening.

2. Tuesday is a morning lecture and a night support group meeting we have to do report on for Psych.

3. Wednesday is my last ICU clinical (a post on that coming soon), which is also my last clinical of the semester. Woot! Goodbye 12 hours shift, till I see you again next semester! Oh, and a little happy hour after said clinical with a school friend. Tee hee!

4. Thursday is another morning to noon-ish meeting for Psych, then a trip to a party store to get stuff for my best friend's bachelorette party, then a baking night with my friend Y--a.k.a. the Goddess of baking, which is also for my best friend's bachelorette party, which I'm super stoked about.

5. Friday is, well, the day I will slave away finishing process recording and 1001 kinds of reports and other papers. Joy....

6. Saturday is, my best friend's bachelorette party!!! Woohooo!!! :D :D :D

7. Sunday is a trip to Texas Renaissance Festival with my family.

So this week I'd get to spend some quality time with my family and friends! For the first time in...oh I don't know, months! And I'm not spending my weekend nose deep in textbooks! And I get to paaartaay and have fun instead! An actual free time!

Oh, how I thought I'd never see the light of this again.....

I hope your week is great as well!

This is the hour.

So one of my patients recently gave my preceptor and I a scare just a couple hours short of the change of shift after being stable the whole day. That is not fun--and not pretty. The day in the life of a critical care unit, never a dull moment and rarely a predictable day.

You know it's going downhill when you see the BP reading at the monitor, think "Okay, that's not good", tell your preceptor who is nearby, immediately adjust the cuff on patient, hit the Go button again while silently willing the new number to be higher, therefore rendering the previous number a false reading, only to see that the new number is lower, and when you look at your preceptor, she has the same look that you have on your face--which is the "Oh sh**" face. Oh and then the patient is yelping out in pain. I'll say this again: not pretty.

I'll spare you the details of the "Oh sh**" hour that followed, but we thought the patient was bleeding internally and was crashing on us, which turned out to be not the case, but we didn't know that for a good 30 minutes or so trying to figure out what the heck was going and how to manage it while waiting for the stat H&H result to come back. Luckily, the patient was stabilized within an hour and everything went back to being peachy again, like nothing happened.

When I finally got out of my shift, obviously later than I usually do, I rounded up the corner to the waiting area, where a family member who was in the room when it all started had to be escorted out because the shift was ending, therefore visiting hour was too before it resumes 2 hours later. I had told the family member that I'd give an update if I could before the shift ended, but if that wasn't the case, I'd drop by on my way out. So I did.

She immediately stood up when she saw me, I smiled at her and told her that her family has been stabilized, her BP back to the normal range and the pain controlled, and was currently sleeping. I could see the worry in her eyes subsided as I delivered the news. Now, that is pretty. As I made my way home, I was once again reminded of why I'm still here doing this. For a moment like those, when you see your patient sleeping comfortably after what could lead to otherwise, and when you see the family take that deep breath of relief after the gripping worries.

I know that the "Oh sh**" moment does not always lead to this, but it's always nice and appreciated when it does.

Feel free to share any "Oh sh**" moment you have had.

First.

AB was my first patient to die. Since the moment I came on that morning, we knew that it was going to happen soon because AB was in grave condition post cardiac arrest. What I didn't knew was whether AB was going to pass on my shift or not. Doctors, palliative care, and chaplain have been filtering in and out of the room that morning to inform the family of AB's prognosis and what can be done should they decide to go for aggressive treatments or what will be done should they decide to end all life support measures.

The family needed more time to decide, and all day my preceptor and I took care of her while waiting for the family to decide. It was obvious to me that AB was very loved, it was evident by the numerous members of family who came by, and how distraught they were of the possibility that that day was the day AB could pass away. My heart went to them.

It hit a little too close to home. My family and I were in their shoes a little over 3 months ago when we have to decide what we wanted to do for Grampa. I knew of that anger of wanting to do more, just to have them with us one day more. I knew of that hope of a miracle, that by the grace of God they'd come back. I knew of that love that allowed us to see and choose what was best for them and not us, the love that allowed us to let them go.

I never thought my first patient death could come this soon. I knew that I will encounter it in my career, but I've had it in my mind that it'd happen when I'm already a nurse, not a student. I'm okay with it though, it didn't make me emotional like I thought I could be because of Grampa. I'm glad I wasn't emotional, it wasn't me place to be because at a time like that, it should be about the family and how I can be a help for them.

Toward the end of the shift, AB's sister came out of the room and asked me who she could talk to "to take the machine off." I informed my preceptor, and the arrangement was being made. I was in the room when the doctor informed the family of the event that will follow, and that brought me back to when the nurse handed me a brown bag of meds that we could give to my Grampa to keep him comfortable and when the home health nurse told us that his time was near. That morning I've thought about what this meant for me, seeing this all too familiar scenario played in front of me soon after my own loss. I didn't know how I would feel if I had the chance to witness this, I only knew how to be there for the family and care for AB the best I knew how.

Sometimes during that shift, I had the chance to talk to AB's sister. At one point, she asked me about nursing school and the hardship that comes with it. I told her that it is indeed not easy, but it comes with having experience to know what to do in caring for someone in her sister's situation. She said, "I'm sure you'd have your (off) time here and there, but you will get there." I chuckled, "Oh I'm sure I've had plenty of my (off) times just in today alone." She smiled, "And that's okay, but you keep telling yourself you'll be good. It'll come to you." "I hope so," I told her.

AB passed away an hour before the shift ended. I wasn't in the room then, I was at the nurses station watching the monitor (the monitor in AB's room had been turned off) and chronicling the vital signs as AB left this world. The doctor asked what time it was when the flat line appeared. "1804," I told him, looking at the strip print out. "1804," he repeated as he looked at the strip, then he went to AB's room to tell the family.

I'd remember always remember sitting at the nurses station and looking up to see AB sister rounding that corner of the nurses station toward the exit door about 45 minutes after AB's death, and as she waved goodbye to my preceptor sitting a couple feet away from me, she also waved and pointed at me to make sure I knew she meant me when she said, "And you. You will be good."

And now, when there's a thousand things running in my mind due to a recent school related conflict that make me doubt myself, when I keep asking myself if I had what it takes to be a good nurse, I'll remember that kind lady, who, in the midst of her sorrow, still took time to be an encourager and told me that I will be good. And I'll always remember what I told her as she left, not only that I hope so, but I will. I will be good.

Children.

I was waiting for the elevator after my last Peds shift at the children hospital today. Once it opened, I waited for a little bit to let people out when this little boy, about 5 years old, called, "Come on, Lady, come on in." A lady in the back chuckled at the boy, while who appeared to be the boy's mom shook her head in amusement. I smiled and said "Hi" as I stepped in, and the boy's brother, who was about the same age and standing on the other side of the elevator, promptly asked, "And which floor you're going, Mam?" I laughed as I told them, "One, please, and thank you."

For the rest of our ride, the two boys asked whoever came in, mostly physicians, which floor they were going. One of them boys even asked one of the doctor, "Do you know how my heart rate is?" and the everyone in the elevator erupted into laughter. Those boys were just too precious, too adorable, and so innocent. This is why I want to work with children.

How about that election? Wow, history was made. To be honest, I'm not really into politics, although, I believe I would've looked more into in had I could vote. People have asked me who I would vote for, and I 've always said I don't know because I haven't educated myself on the two candidates. However, I've always felt a leaning toward the now president elect, Barrack Obama. I've been in this country long enough to see three presidential elections including last night, and I've never seen a candidate that grabbed my attention like he does. I'm glad he won, and I hope he lives up to all the hype about him.

Made.

Today was Psych exam #2, aka judgment day of some sort because I failed the first one miserably so I needed to make at least 75 on this one and at least a 75 on the Final to make that passing grade of 72 at the end of the semester. So this exam is a make or break for me, if I make below 75, the chance of me passing is slimmer than if I make above. I hated Psych with passion, and the instructors elicit the same sentiment out of me. It's just not my forte, I always feel like I'm in rut with this class. I know I'm not the only one feeling like this, the whole class does too.

The past few days have been a pressure cooker for me. I've studied and studied, practiced questions on the NCLEX book, doubted myself more than I can count, and it was just so draining. This morning anxiety was in overdrive, I kept reminding myself to calm down, trying not to hyperventilate. When I got to school, all the faces I saw were those of nervousness. It was just not a pretty sight at all.

We had a review right after the exam, and let me tell you, test review in this Psych is like a an outlet for that pent up anger. We're all frustrated and the instructors are just not helping, and yeah, it can get pretty hostile in there. Again, not a pretty sight.

But I made it. I passed, with an 84!!!! I was beyond relieved. I believed my faith played a part in that. I've also been praying for the past few days, so have my friends and family, and we believe prayers do work. I'm a testament for that today. I can't explain it electronically here, I can't describe how tricky the questions can be, how hard the instructors are on us. 84 might sound like a no big deal for some, but when you made a 66 on the first exam, 84 is a big deal. So. relieved.

Now, it's time to hit the book for another test next week. Ah, the life of a nursing student.

Happy voting, everyone! I'm not a citizen or permanent resident, so I can't vote. I wish I could....