whack jobs

spring is springing. birds are chirping. and light is seeping in through my windows. i am enjoying a lazy sunday morning on my couch - reading a new book (more like trying to stay awake), internet surfing/shopping for little girls in my life (emerson's birthday is coming up), and trying to motivate myself to get to the gym (i don't know why, but despite this beautiful weather, i'd rather run on the treadmill - something is not right with me).

i feel like i've been working a lot lately. perhaps because i did a 4.5 hour stint of overtime this week. or because my twelve hours shifts have been split up instead of in a row (which gives me bigger chunks of time off). but even though i've been spending lots of time nursing, i don't feel the same kind of burn out or exhaustion that i do a lot of the time. i work tomorrow. and i don't really want to go. but i have this refreshing sense of peace that whatever is thrown at me, i might handle with grace (i've probably jinxed myself).

i've taken care of some very sick patients recently. and although i don't always enjoy the intensity, it feels good to know that a job is well done. that my patients are safe under my care.

this week, i had the "pleasure" of caring for a psych patient. she had a transplants YEARS ago and because of that wound up on our floor. but her needs are not transplant related. they are most definitely psych related. and although i am not equipped or trained to help her psych needs, i sure had fun trying. is that bad? i don't mean to make light of a sad and difficult situation. and certainly, i don't mean to be disrespectful of mental health needs and complexities; god knows, i have my own issues. but this woman was REALLY crazy. she's in her 60s, but throws tantrums like the most stubborn of two year olds. she has a stuffed bear named "woof, woof." and when i fed her her pills in ice cream, it was never firm enough. i couldn't help but play along with some of her neuroses. "oh, you want your covers pulled up higher for the 107th time, okay?" as i pulled them up over her face. "oh, this ice cream is not hard enough. well, sorry, we don't have ice cream rocks!"

by the end of the day, this lady and i were laughing. at each other i think. with one another hopefully. i found out her nickname when she was a child - glory-bug. and we talked about easter egg dying - which she claims she hasn't done since she was 5.

i didn't do a perfect job for this woman. she still screamed bloody murder at times throughout the day. and she told her team of doctors to "get the F*&% out of her room." but at least she never told me that. at least we got along. at least we respected one another. from one whack job to another!