It's my second week orienting at work.
(What this means is I've spent 5 days following an experienced nurse, while I pretend to be a real nurse.)
I am not just a little black raincloud, I am THE little black raincloud.
In a way this is good-I've seen some things that the other nurses have only seen once or twice in their 20 year career.
In another way, I feel somewhat inadequate. I realize that I still have LOADS to learn, but will I ever feel completely comfortable doing my job?
For example: I swear I have not had a single epidural run completely fine. Either Mom's blood pressure's drop to the toilet, or the baby freaks out and the heart rate drops. Not a fun place to be in either situation. (Plus side: I've learned the appropriate interventions and how to handle these situations-Thank the heavens for Ephedrine!)
Today, the epidural actually started running the opposite way. So, "mom" started getting shortness of breath and coughing because her respiratory system was getting numbed. Don't worry, we fixed it. Or rather, my battle-scarred nurse did. If some of the things we saw and experienced as nurses actually left physical proof I imagine the scene would play out something like this:
The hospital's halls were brightly lit with fluorescent lighting. Things on the Labor and Delivery unit had been quiet that day...too quiet. I had my hair pulled back, watch on, and stethoscope at the ready. Looking back, I didn't understand the meaning of the word ready.
"Pssst, hey kid," a nurse beckoned to me from behind a computer, "Come here a second." She had frizzy gray hair, and a long line of scars adorned her arms.
Cautiously, I wound my way behind the desk and sat down next to her. She pointed to a long, bulging keloid scar on her forearm. "See this? This was from a placental abruption in '92." She then rolled up her pant leg and on her ankle was an angry red wound. I counted the stitches, and couldn't believe that it only took 10, it looked bad enough to contain at least 15. "And this," she continued, "this was from a cord prolapse as they wheeled me and the patient in for the emergency c-section."
Yeah. That's pretty much how I picture it. And today, that last bit about the prolapse actually happened today. And this was pretty much how I reacted:
Not my best moment.
One of my personal goals as nurse is to be one of the people that my co-workers say "I'm so glad she was there."
Not: "And Maria was on that night, you know how that goes."
And that probably wouldn't have happened.
To be fair, my veteran nurse said this was the second time she's seen a prolapsed cord in her 20+ year career. So I'll cut myself some slack.
But I seriously feel like a little black raincloud sometimes.
On " The glass is half full" side of things, I'm so glad all of this has happened when I've been with an experienced nurse, and not on my own. And all of this has been such a wonderful learning experience. For that, I really am grateful.
But it would be alright with me if the little black raincloud went away for a few days!
(What this means is I've spent 5 days following an experienced nurse, while I pretend to be a real nurse.)
I am not just a little black raincloud, I am THE little black raincloud.
In a way this is good-I've seen some things that the other nurses have only seen once or twice in their 20 year career.
In another way, I feel somewhat inadequate. I realize that I still have LOADS to learn, but will I ever feel completely comfortable doing my job?
For example: I swear I have not had a single epidural run completely fine. Either Mom's blood pressure's drop to the toilet, or the baby freaks out and the heart rate drops. Not a fun place to be in either situation. (Plus side: I've learned the appropriate interventions and how to handle these situations-Thank the heavens for Ephedrine!)
Today, the epidural actually started running the opposite way. So, "mom" started getting shortness of breath and coughing because her respiratory system was getting numbed. Don't worry, we fixed it. Or rather, my battle-scarred nurse did. If some of the things we saw and experienced as nurses actually left physical proof I imagine the scene would play out something like this:
The hospital's halls were brightly lit with fluorescent lighting. Things on the Labor and Delivery unit had been quiet that day...too quiet. I had my hair pulled back, watch on, and stethoscope at the ready. Looking back, I didn't understand the meaning of the word ready.
"Pssst, hey kid," a nurse beckoned to me from behind a computer, "Come here a second." She had frizzy gray hair, and a long line of scars adorned her arms.
Cautiously, I wound my way behind the desk and sat down next to her. She pointed to a long, bulging keloid scar on her forearm. "See this? This was from a placental abruption in '92." She then rolled up her pant leg and on her ankle was an angry red wound. I counted the stitches, and couldn't believe that it only took 10, it looked bad enough to contain at least 15. "And this," she continued, "this was from a cord prolapse as they wheeled me and the patient in for the emergency c-section."Yeah. That's pretty much how I picture it. And today, that last bit about the prolapse actually happened today. And this was pretty much how I reacted:
Not my best moment.
One of my personal goals as nurse is to be one of the people that my co-workers say "I'm so glad she was there."
Not: "And Maria was on that night, you know how that goes."
And that probably wouldn't have happened.
To be fair, my veteran nurse said this was the second time she's seen a prolapsed cord in her 20+ year career. So I'll cut myself some slack.
But I seriously feel like a little black raincloud sometimes.
On " The glass is half full" side of things, I'm so glad all of this has happened when I've been with an experienced nurse, and not on my own. And all of this has been such a wonderful learning experience. For that, I really am grateful.
But it would be alright with me if the little black raincloud went away for a few days!
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