So, This Happened…

•July 17, 2013 • 4 Comments

*Blonde Tech glancing at order* “What’s a triple A?”

Me: Did I really just hear that question asked by a cardiology coworker? Yes.  “Abdominal aortic aneurysm…it’s when part the descending aorta weakens. If it ruptures, it’s a life threat.”

“So, what does the abdomen have to do with it?”


Apparently, not all of my coworkers have taken the same amount of Anatomy & Physiology that I had to take. (Let’s face it, the amount of A&P for EMT-level classes is a joke.) Every time I deal with her, her level of ignorance sets new lows. (Why yes, she’s also a CNA at a long-term care facility…so glad you asked!) Paramedics, do you have your shocked face on? Good.

Perhaps I’m being an elitist college-educated bitch here, but how the hell is someone this unfamiliar with cardiac anatomy? My 8th grade Health class covered cardiac blood flow, and that was in a public school over a decade ago!

Sunday, Puppy Sunday: “This Positioning Makes Holding a Controller Difficult For Mommy.”

•July 7, 2013 • 2 Comments


Yes, I totally just stole the phrase from Fatale Abstraction. I find it quite witty, and I love the idea of blogging about MiniPup once a week.

When the Chia Pet went out into The Glorious Field and my allergies forcing twice-a-day Neti Pot use for a few weeks, I reverted back to my old Xbox 360 habit. While playing through Dead Space 1, 3, and the first of the Mass Effect games, Mini Pup decided my stomach would make an awesome place to nap. However, this little mutt insisted on one “romp around base housing fitness trail and playing ground tracker” session per evening before I could get my game on without her destroying my house. After that, she’d turn into a contented little pup who’d gladly snuggle on the couch.

MiniPup: forcing her gamer human to seek fresh air once in awhile since August 2012!

How DARE You Question Me!

•July 2, 2013 • 2 Comments

Note to self: questioning an order in the name of ensuring good patient care. earns the ire of the ordering doctor.

If my first concern wasn’t overall patient safety, I’d let some of them suffer the full consequences of their actions. However, no matter how pissed off I might be with either party, I will do my best to protect the patient.

Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have massive egos to tiptoe around…

Parenting: You’re Doing It Right!

•June 23, 2013 • 2 Comments

My faith in the younger generation has been temporarily restored after reading through some of ‘s older entries.

What, you were expecting real content from me? Sorry, I’m trying to strike a balance between updating more frequently, yet not producing excrement-level posts.

Ah, I miss reading these blogs. I should keep up on my blogroll more often.

Similar To Pissing Into Fish-Piss Infested Waters

•June 19, 2013 • 6 Comments

Sick-as-a-dog middle-aged inpatient? Check.

Said patient actively experiencing delirium tremens requiring large doses of Ativan? Check.

Same patient also diagnosed with COPD after years of smoking like a chimney? Check and check.

Now, wrap this lovely lady in an ill-fitting hospital gown, add a hospitalist who orders everything and a complementary kitchen sink on every patient, and schedule a nuclear stress test on my call weekend.

The scene: One of the many cardiac testing room in Humble Hospital, with everyone’s favorite hobbit-sized medic in the middle of explaining the stress test.

“Now, as I mentioned before, the nurse injects the medication, which will be followed by a second dose of the radioactive tracer-”

“Radioactive tracer?”

“Yes…the nuclear medicine tech injected you with it yesterday when he did your resting pictures…”

“How much radiation am I getting then?”

*blink blink*

“I’m not sure about that, but I’m sure the nuclear medicine tech will be able to answer that question when he gets here.”

“Oh…okay. I’m just worried about what damage the radiation will do to my body.”
end scene

Lady, with all due respect, the cigarrettes and drinking like a fish for years did far more damage to you than the technetium might possibly do at this point…

MiniPup’s IQ > Coworker IQ

•May 23, 2013 • 4 Comments


Exhibit A: Puppy’s Morning Routine
1.) MiniPup and I wake up. MiniPup goes outside and has her morning chow while I finish waking up as my scrubs run through the steam refresh cycle on the dryer.
2.) MiniPup and I head upstairs. I make myself presentable for public appearance while the furball sits on my clean scrubs.
3.) Clad in scrubs, Pup and I head downstairs. MiniPup heads into her kennel for the duration of my workday. She usually does this with little to no prompting. (We have a blanket in there for her to burrow in.)
4.) MiniPup recieves her daily greenie.

Exhibit B: Co-Workers
1.) The Dragon Lady (my boss) will send me back to help out my former group as the need arises.
2.) At a certian time on specified days, I’m expected to cover lunches for them. On these days, I show up before that time.
3.) I show up on one of those days to cover lunches. It’s that time, but the co-worker that’s supposed to go to lunch first is nowhere to be found until ten minutes after my appearance.
4.) Late co-worker who’s been in department far longer than me: “Contact me directly when you get here.”

If my mixed-breed doxie realizes that me in scrubs means “go in kennel” without me uttering a word, how come humans can’t figure out “Mini in department at o’lunchtime-thirty” means “go to lunch,” especially when this is a well-established fact?

Am I asking too much here?

Stop Poking Me With A Stick, I’m Not Dead.

•February 24, 2013 • 4 Comments

Two months into 2013, I shall resolve to blog more and keep up on more blogs.

Quick update:  Accepted a new job similar to what I was doing before, but more stress tests and pokin’ peeps with needles. (Which I am horribly rusty at, unfortunately. Erk. Thank you, coworkers, for subjecting yourself to my attempts.) It’s also full-time with private practice clinic hours, so I get a steady schedule, benefits, and weekends off. This job isn’t what I pictured myself doing when I got my National Registry back, but once again, one can’t be picky in this economy…even if an EMS company DID call me about a part-time job I had applied for months ago. (Damn.)

Since accepting said position is causing staffing shortages in my old department, I’ll pulling overtime back there, which leaves me working six days a week. I will probably spend my next few Sundays catching up on housework and outside tasks, as the Army kidnapped the Chia Pet for the next week or two.

For those of you who still visit, I hope you are doing well. (Do not get me started on politics. A pox on you, politicians of Washington, D.C. Except for the very few still fighting for what the Constitution still stands for.)

Time to hit the pool…blog catch-up to occur soon. Hopefully. Maybe.


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