Sun in the evening. Grey morning. Woke too early. Not a long day yesterday, but concentrated.
Took care of three patients who knew the surgeon, two everyone else knew as well. A surgical resident - a cocky little shit who made no friends, but we took care of him as well as possible.
Second - one of our attending anesthesiologists who we adore. Taking care of our own has a different level of attention. Fighting the urge to keep to our routines, do everything the same, even for someone who knows it well. So easy to omit an explanation, or skip a step. Hard to keep up exactly the same patter that is part of the routine.
Around me, bubbling up resentments over the fired cow-orker. Relief, mostly. This from other people, I'm just listening. Even down a person, the work is easier, because we don't have to cater to her as well. We can eat in the staff room, without incessant chatter or a butt on the table, or her phone going off at full volume. She has apparently asked several surgeons for letters of recommendation. And they might do it for her, lie essentially. We all hope they don't, since we now figure that is how we got stuck with her. No warning, just passing on the problem. And she is apparently blaming us for "picking on her." She was given so many chances to do better, and refused them all, flaunting her immunity. Everyone would have been more than willing to accept a changed her, willing to do her work, open to improvement. She never even went to EAP to see a therapist - the manager didn't require it of her, as she did for me.
Still, short staffed or not, the mood is lighter. Going into our slower time, when the university is out.
5 comments:
although it's a different level of care, i remember going to my dental office as a patient and hearing my boss do the same explanatory spiel on me as he used on regular patients. always made me smile - the routine is so ingrained... and yet, it seems to have totally left me now, though i'm sure if i was thrust into a dental situation i'd reassert itself.
as a school friend laughingly told me the other day "you can take the girl out of the dental office..." you know the rest.
Wonderful image of Moby, Z.
I've said it before, but I'll repeat myself - if you ever have to find him another home (I know you won't, but...), he can live with me, since he has already stolen my heart.
pc,
Not to mention the "jokes." Raising the gurney - bringing you up in the world, it's a bumpy ride. Moving to recovery, Please keep your hands and arms inside the ride at all times and enjoy your stay here at (name) hospital!
Crow,
I've promised Moby, no more moves. Just as I long ago promised him, no more shelter, he always comes with us. He's happy to be your spirit cat, though.
OK, I'm jiggy with a spirit cat. (No litter box or hairballs!)
:~}
(o)
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