Monday, November 24, 2008

a bad case of the monday's.

for most people, you might say that they "get monday"--you know, in other words, it is the person who doesn't like monday & goes about his or her day with a bad case of the monday's. BUT, apparently i'm special...because mondays "get me". i swear it--they are out against me.

remember two weeks ago? that monday turned out fine after an incredibly frustrating start. and then there was last week, which in the book of my history tops all other monday's ever lived by me...

as all monday's do, it started out innocently enough. i had decided the night before that my pants were getting a bit too tight this early on in the holiday season, which warrented a good workout the following morning. and since i had to report for my first day in the ER @ 7am, it made for a very early morning. with my lunch box, purse, book bag, & gym bag in hand i made my way down the slightly-snowy steps @ 5:40 am. i brushed the snow off my car window (with my bare hand because i'd forgotten gloves) and was headed to the gym in a relatively short period of time after i threw my pluthera of bags in the backseat.

once i walked through the fitness center doors, i ran to the locker room to deposit my bag in the toilet, set up my station for Body Pump in the fitness room...and waited. And i waited....and waited...and waited....and 3 other people walked into class and then we waited....and waited...and waited. we all waited until someone from the front desk called and said that the teacher forgot he had to teach that morning & wouldn't be joining us. WHAT?!??! you mean i got my butt out of my freezing cold apartment at freaking 5:40 this morning to sit on my butt in the freezing cold gym waiting for the teacher to show up??!!!?!?!?!?!?!

after a quick workout upstairs i figured i would just show up early for my ER shift so i might leave a little earlier that evening...which is when i walked out to my car & realized that my soy milk that was so lovingly self-packed in my lunch box had tipped over when i'd thrown my bags haphazardly in the backseat. And that lovingly self-packed soy milk now decorated the floor, seat, white coat, and purse of one very frustrated girl. i squatted in the semi-dark parking lot wiping out the lunch box, wiping off the seat, and sorting through the baggies of soggy food that was supposed to have been my lunch. oh, and did i mention the fact that i was almost run over by a crazy west virginian trying to find a parking spot?

i showed up in the ER with a large yellow stain down the front of my coat--caused by drying soy milk but slightly resembling wiped-off bird poop. fast forward a few hours & the ER was bustling. people were filling the rooms with ridiculous complaints...but the most exciting part was that there were a few legitimately sick patients.

one woman had a chest tube put in after developing subcutaneous emphysema--and subsequently the voice of a smurf. it really wasn't funny, but as i stood in the corner listening to someone who sounded like they'd sucked helium, i couldn't help but chuckle at the irony of the actaully grave-situation. humor gets you through everything, right?

an overdose was wheeled through the door. and after his respirations started to drop, they decided that they had to intubate. they'd given him charcoal to drink while he was still conscious (it helps absorb drugs/substances in the stomach so it doesn't get into systemic circulation) but the drugs took affect too quickly for the charcoal to work.

the P.A. handed me the suction & i immediately took a white-knuckled grip on the handle--probably from subconscious excitement at what was about to happen. and what did happen next got a little...ummm...messy. as the P.A. tried to guide the tube down her throat & into her lungs, we all realized that she wasn't sedated enough for her gag reflex to be gone--and so he was struggling with the positioning of the tube (there are certain landmarks you have to look for). as we rejoiced that he'd finally gotten it in, a huge spray of black charcoal poured out of the tube & shot at least 2 feet in the air...covering the nurse who was holding the man down, covering the P.A.'s lab coat, and soaking my pant leg. the humor of the situation peaked when i continued to stand there with a white-knuckled grip on the suction, completely oblivious to the shrieks & pokes of the nurses to put the suction on the shooting charcoal-mixed-with-stomach-acid fluid that was coming from the tubed man on the table. and perhaps even more hilarious is that it wasn't until at least 25 seconds later (which, of course, seemed like 10 minutes) when the P.A. physically yanked the suction out of my hand that I finally surveyed the black-stained nurses now soaked with charcoal colored liquid and realized what had happened.

when we all recovered--& dried off--i realized that the lunch i had eaten was not agreeing with my stomach (perhaps it was the charcoal stained pant-leg that upset my stomach so??) and so, aware that there was a gas bubble slowly making its way down to you-know-where, i positioned myself in the corner of the nurses station that is empty most hours of the day. i stood there, probably looking quite the opposite of inconspicuous, and let that gas bubble go--and the sound that came out was, quite possibly, one of the loudest i've ever signed off on. which is when i turned the corner & realized that a case worker was sitting at the desk on the other side of the wall i just farted against.

after 8-or-so more patients it was almost time to leave, & i gathered that i'd better stop in the bathroom before my bladder exploded. i walked in, turned the light on, & paused in the mirror. before me stood a frazzled, thoroughly exhausted girl....and one pant zipper that was gaping WIDE open for the world to see.

the world which included the last who-knows-how-many patients....


joyfuliving said...

oh my! i think that was the most, 'hi-my-name-is-j'-and-this-is-me-on-mondays' kind of post ever! i'm not laughing at your expense. no, really...i'm not. ;) love you, girl!

Craig said...

Reminds me of all those times you farted in algebra with your fly open while other people threw up on you on Mondays in my class as an 8th grader. Oh the memories.

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