silveryscrape (silveryscrape) wrote,
silveryscrape
silveryscrape

Ohmigod, what day is it. Time seems to have compressed and turned around, upsidedown, and I had a moment the other day where I honestly could not tell whether it was night or day, although the sun shining in my windows helped with that, some.

In other words, hello from CA! Hello from night shift, and the new job! I'm doing surprisingly well with it, all things considered. Settled into my rather nice corporate housing, had a day to get organized, and then three days of hospital-wide orientation. Then a few more days, during which I wandered SF in a daze and had a more than rather nice dinner with frausorge (doing anything this weekend?), and then finally actually started on the floor, working 7 pm to 7.30 am. Urk. For those who don't know, travel nurses are expected to, like, know what they're doing already (ha), so where regular staff get two to three (on up to twelve) weeks of orientation with a constant preceptor guide, I got two days. The third, I was on my own. Overnight. When normal people LIKE ME sleep.

So last night... or I guess it was the night before last, now, huh... I took my own patients. Dude! It went pretty well, for being endless -- one guy on suicide precautions related to his schizophrenia and unsuccessful attempt to run over a tree with his car, but he was one of my easy ones. One lady with some kind of stomach bug who insisted she couldn't sleep, and then snored the night away. One charming and adorable and very very verbal old guy who never should have been given all that benadryl, because it made him even more demented than he already is. Who didn't sleep a wink, because of the visual hallucinations, and who needed the urinal or the bed pan fifteen times. And two baths, and three bed changes. And my last patient, who expired around 2.30 in the morning, surrounded by his loving family. Sail on, my friend.

So it's not so much an oncology unit, in the sense that we, like, really take care of oncology patients or provide cancer care. 'Salright. I can do this for 11 more weeks. I've already been asked in a roundabout way if I'll stay, but truthfully, eh. As a traveler, I'm not permitted to hang chemo, or do my own blood draws, or change central line dressings; i.e., many of the things that make oncology nursing fun for me. The end of life care was actually a bonus for me last night, although the charge nurse kept giving me that look like she was poised on top of a rollercoaster. 'Salright. Can be done. And in the meantime, I'll think what to do next.

As for today, I have plans. Is it Friday? Okay, yes. The rather nice corporate housing must be cleaned. Laundry. Kiss the kittie-cats on the head (no, they love it). Write my It's Gonna Be May thing. Pay some bills. OHMIGOD, PAY SOME BILLS. Ha ha, kind of forgot about that. Oh well.

...or perhaps instead climb on the BART and head for SF again, and try to look for UCSF. They have a BMT unit, I hear. And this time, perhaps not wander the slightly scary streets of the Tenderloin and get sunburned and get asked for heroin (perhaps I'm blending too well?) and also, many blisters. Or, you know, perhaps.
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