A Stupor of Thought

I've been really trying to justify my time spent on Pinterest by trying out new recipes each week.  Most of them have been delicious.  Some not worth the time.  This week was a simple one.  Mozzarella sticks.  All you have to do is roll string cheese in bread crumbs and stick them in the oven for a couple minutes.  Essentially impossible to ruin right?  Unless you are me. 

I put them in the oven and my friend and I started dinner.  I didn't set the timer because they were only supposed to be there a short time.  We'd pray, eat a couple bites of chicken, and then take them out of the oven.  Well I got off on a tangent real quickly after the prayer by asking my friend if she'd ever experience a stupor of thought and what it had felt like.  We chatted for a while, shared experiences and then she said, "speaking of a stupor of thought....how long has those cheese sticks been in the oven?"


This long:

Still tasted amazing.

 

TSA

On my trip to NYC last weekend I lost my driver's license.  I know...shocker.  I'm just surprised it was only my  driver's license.  Anyway, the last time this happened (my trip to LA with friends) and had to show up to the airport without any photo ID, I was a little disturbed with what happened. 

They put me on a phone with some guy who asked me questions to verify who I was.

What is your SS#?

Do you have a professional degree?  What is it?  Where did you get it? When did you get it?

What was your last address? (I got that one wrong)

How many sisters do you have?

Let's talk about Emilie.  What year was she born? Day and month? Does she have a professional degree?

On and on.  I was disturbed by how much information they knew about me.  And kind of wondering if they were just collecting more when I gave answers.

When coming home from NYC I was gearing up for the same process.  Trying to remember my last several addresses.  Reviewing my siblings birthdays.  Wondering what new items they would have one me.  But it didn't happen.  They just looked at 2 of my credit cards and called it good.

Now I'm not sure which one I find more disturbing. 

Saving Lives

Just a couple pictures of the kind of patients I saved in the ER last week. 
 

Armpit razor burn
 

Period cramps

 

 

And my favorite, chapped lips.  Though my patient's lips weren't nearly as chapped as this picture. 

I tell you, this job is really fulfilling sometimes.

Blue Fingers

What?  I  haven't posted a story from my new job yet?  Well this is a good one to start with.  Though I'm sure anyone who reads these posts have already heard the story.

I feel like an idiot about 75.8647% of the time at work.  Whether it being a doc correcting me, having to ask another nurse a question, or just being clumsy in patients' rooms, I always seem to be doing something sub-par.  I suppose that with experience and time these feelings will gradually become fewer and farther between.  But this week I was able to, for once, be the one who was right.  So yes, I will gloat.

Enter "Blue Fingers Girl".

I walked into my patient's room whose complaint was "blue fingers".  She didn't seem in any distress or sick.  I did a quick assessment on her.  Yes, her fingers were cold, but it was like -3 degrees outside from where she had just come.  On closer inspection of the finger I concluded that it must be dye.  The girl denied touching anything blue and her increasingly worried parents in the corner didn't seem to appreciate the fact that I didn't understand the gravity of the situation because clearly their daughter was turning hypoxic.  I was about to pull out an alcohol swab to rub off the dye when the doc came in.

"So you have blue fingers?  Let me see.  You probably have what's known as Raynaud's syndrome..." I wasn't about to  interrupt the doc to make a fool out of myself again so I left.  I ran into the director of nursing who was working as an ER nurse that night because we were slammed, and he had triaged the girl.  I decided to ask him what he thought.

"Oh, it's Raynaud's syndrome..." and then proceeded to explain to me what it was.  Yes, I know I act like an idiot most of the time, but I do know what Raynaud's Syndrome is. 

"Really?  I thought it looked like blue dye."

"No.  Her fingers were really cold, and her capillary refill was pretty sluggish.  I'm confident it Raynaud's".

I left to go take care of some other patients, and a while later saw my director of nursing back at the nurse's station. 

"Hey, did you hear that girl washed her hands and the blue came off.?!  I guess you were right.  We should call you Sherlock".

I was trying so hard not to smile ear to ear and roll my eyes at the same time.