I want to give up

I haven't had a home for almost 4 weeks now.  It's starting to get old.  I've been trying to find an apartment, but work and school has been consuming all of my time and sucking me dry of what little physical, mental, and emotional energy I have left.  I won't settle for anywhere that doesn't allow dogs and that's making it more difficult to find a place to live.  But those three little darlings are my world.
Last night I hit my breaking point for the second time.  I began thinking about the way my life has turned out. Five years ago, I didn't have everything, but I had enough to be happy with.  Life was good.  Now I'm struggling to find meaning for my existance.  If I can't find meaning for my own life, what's the point of continuing to put one foot in front of the other?  I want to give up.  This doesn't mean that I want to die.  I'm just exhausted.  I feel like: My brain is too fried to get me through the rest of school; My eyes are too lifeless to allow me to enjoy all the beauty of life that surrounds me; And my heart is too cold to ever be able to love again.
My life is no longer full of the routine questions of what to wear or what to watch on TV.  Instead, I'm constantly wondering how I'm going to make it through the night or where's the safest place for me to park.
I want to give up, but I won't.  Success is the best revenge.  Rock bottom is good, solid ground and a dead end street is good place to turn around.

Damaged.

Although my marriage has been falling apart since January, for some reason I still didn't see it coming. A divorce. I can't get into the details because I just don't have the energy within me to think or talk about it any more.  I need to take the scarce amount of energy I have left and pour every last bit into my studies. This emotional rollercoaster has distracted me for far too long. I've realized that if I let all these emotions consume me, he wins. You never know how strong you really are until being strong is your only option. I know that all the strength in the world may never remove the "damaged" label that I've been stamped with, but I'm okay with that. Damaged people are the most dangerous, because we know that we can survive.

"Now we see that everything we have and everything we lack is exactly what we need. Every single day and everything we've made has put us in this place in just this way."

Chaos.

I apologize for my disappearance, but my life has been exetremely chaotic.

From miss mantown to nursing student

Here we go again with these "self care deficit r/t nursing school

 m/b busy days, lots of studying, lack of sleep, and

not enough coffee in the world" kinds of days.

Yesterday was the first day of second semester and I'm already completely drained. There's already sooo much that needs to be done and I feel so unorganized.  I probably won't develop a system until at least next week.  So for now I have scribbles in note books and memos plastered everywhere of things I need to remember to do.

I suppose it's not a good sign either that in one reminder I listed coffee four times.  It'll most likely be the only thing that gets me through the next 15 weeks!

On the work side of things.. I had quite the moment on Monday.  We received a patient via ambulance.  I normally try to get in the room right away so I can assist EMS with getting the patient settled into our stretcher.  As I was standing there, the EMT looks at me and says, "You look really familiar." So we played the whole 'where are you from' game.  Despite our efforts we couldn't figure it out.  About five minutes later, on his way out of the ER, he poked his head into the room and said, "I got it. WAAF." I felt my face turn ten shades of red as I doubled over laughing.  Back in November of 2005 I had gone to WAAF and tried out for Miss Mantown 2006.

Because I had more class than all of the other girls who tried out, by keeping my pictures tasteful, I never ended up winning.  The pictures were still posted on the website for a while though.  I could not believe that someone actually recognized me, six and a half years later.  I figured it has to be one of three things: a) He has a super photographic memory. b) The photos are still posted online in some archive that I'm not aware of. c) He has them saved on his computer.  Whatever the case may be, I guess you could say I'm a little flattered.



I'm too young to be a grandmother

As you all know, we are proud parents of three wonderful little dogs. However, that number may increase in the next couple months.  Simba (our male chihuahua papillon) and Sadie (our female chihuahua) are not fixed.  I've been hesitant on this issue because I always toy with the idea of breeding them once nursing school is over.  At night and when we aren't home, we keep them kenneled separately.  They are never let out unless Tony or myself is around to supervise.  Well, that plan went out the window real fast last week.  While I was at work (finishing my 4 work days from hell) last Monday on the 9th, Tony left the room for two minutes to grab something to drink.  When he came back into the living room, he found that Simba had mounted Sadie and was locked into her.  There was no stopping it.

(Simba)

(Sadie)

If she is pregnant, we will have little to no time to prepare since dogs only carry for 61-64 days.  I guess I could always hold L&D clinicals, for nursing school, at my place! It's still way too early to know for sure (only 9 days).  So I guess we'll just have to hurry up and wait to find out.

You want to Propofol me... on Friday the 13th?!?

Of course I would have surgery yesterday.. on Friday the 13th.  I told my doctor that I didn't want any sedation and for him to just numb the surgical site and do what he has to do.  Why would I want anesthesia on a day like yesterday?  With the way things go in my life, why would I want to push my luck?  Well, turns out they thought it would be best to give me some propofol... yes, Michael Jackson juice.  As they wheeled me into the operating room, I remember sitting up, clutching the side rails of the stretcher, and saying, "You're going to give me Jackson juice on Friday the 13th.. are you nuts?!"

I was also afraid they weren't going to realize how little I am.  Thanks to last weekend's insanely hectic work events and lack of time to put food in my belly.. I have lost weight.

Which is one pound less than what I weighed last week for my pre-op testing.

Which is less than the 92-94 pounds I'm usually able to maintain.



I remember being strapped to the OR table and the anesthesiologist leaning over me and telling me that she just started the meds.  Before I knew it my right hand was on FIRE!  It hurt so bad.  So, of course I had to wiggle my hand out from under all the blankets they had on me so I could look at my IV and make sure it didn't infiltrate.  I remember talking and talking.... and talking some more to all the OR staff... not exactly sure what the heck I was saying though.  I remember constantly looking up and over my right shoulder so that I could see and monitor my own vital signs... just incase they gave me too much propofol?  Either way, I made it out alive and well.  I did just fine all day long and most of the night.. until my husband kicked me in his sleep.  He kicked me right square in the surgical site.  I know he didn't mean to and I know it was an accident.. but that doesn't make it hurt any less.  I'm still determined to make it to work on Monday.  I'll be fine.

Two of the worst work days

I was only able to sleep in until 8:30 this AM.  I am disappointed about this.  I thought, for sure, that I'd end up sleeping all day long after the weekend I've had.  In four days, I had 2 of the worst work days in my nine years of employment at the hospital.  Saturday, there was no secretary scheduled at 11am.  Of course I got tossed into it since I was already there.  At 3pm, I had to remain on the desk to help a new secretary.  It was very, very busy.  The department was completely full.  As 6pm rolled around, I was so excited to be getting out of there in one hour.  That's when we got the call on the ambulance line that a STEMI (aka heart attack) was on the way in.  I immediately activated the stemi page system and made sure that an ER doc was aware of the situation.  About one minute before the ambulance arrived with the patient, the ambulance line rang again... another STEMI on the way in.  Never in my life have I seen or heard of 2 simultaneous stemi's.  We've had a handful of back to back stemi's, but never 2 at the same time. I immediately called the stemi doctor and asked if he wanted me to try and contact the second ambulance and try to divert them to another facility.  I was hoping he'd agree to my great idea.  No such luck.  He informed me that he was the only interventionalist on call and that he'd assess both patients in our ER.  The cardiologist determined that both patients were, in fact, having a heart attack and he was able to contact another local interventionalist who, wasn't on call, but agreed to go to our neighboring hospital and cath the second patient.  So with another local ambulance on standby in our ER, we had them package up the second patient and transport him to the other hospital.  Both patients were stented and are doing much better now.
Yesterday was the last of my 4 day stretch.  The department was full all day long, with 20-30 people in the waiting room at any given time throughout my twelve hour shift.  Around 2pm is when complete chaos hit as we received a cardiac arrest from one local ambulance company.  Unfortunately, the patient didn't survive.  Then we received a woman who had a pneumothorax and required a chest tube.  I tried, for almost three hours, to do post mortem care on the code patient so that we could free up a spot in the trauma room.  Another failed attempt at that when another ambulance came in with a baby who had a febrile seizure and began seizing again.  I heard the nurse's call for help and immediately ran to see if there was anything I could do to help.  Our ER doc took the initiative to pull a stable patient out of a room so that we could get the baby on the monitor as he would not stop seizing this time.  As I used the ambu bag as an oxygen blow-by, the seizure eventually stopped and the baby became post-ictal... and then stopped breathing.  He turned gray and limp right in front of our eyes.  We began bagging him, checked for a pulse (which he never lost), and yelled for the doctor.  Our quick responses helped get the baby breathing on his own again.  We all stood there with the doctor, holding our breath, and looking at the monitor to make sure vital signs were stable.  I happened to be the only one to look down at the baby and at that very same moment he started to vomit, filling the ambu mask.  Without thinking, my hands sprung out in front of me, grabbed the baby, and rolled him onto his side... which saved the baby from choking and/or aspirating.  I can't remember what happened next but I found myself kneeling on the stretcher, with the baby's back against my leg (which was keeping him on his side in case he threw up again) while I, once again, supplied O2 blow-by with the ambu bag.  The doctor even said, "You know it's a bad situation when Stacie is on a patient's bed."  The situation became bad enough that we intubated the baby and medflighted him to a Boston hospital.  After we loaded the baby in the chopper, it was time for me to go home, but not before I cleaned up the mess that we made while treating the baby.  At 7:30pm I was overdue and ready to punch out.  As I went to gather my coat, a paramedic came around the corner, stopped when she saw me, and said, "We need respiratory and a crash cart now!"  A patient was in respiratory distress and had to be intubated.  I didn't leave work until almost 9pm.
I'm thankful the last four days are over but I wish I had gotten more sleep.. Lord knows I could use it.