Never ending story of my life I suppose.
So instead of cleaning I'm randomly browsing the internet, of course only doing some research to present you entertaining stuff.
Like this:
Did you know that the word Atelphobia describes the fear of not being good enough.
Relatable, damn it.
Wow. Super sad.
You go, fuck yeah.
So, I am totally going to do this.
17.02.13
Messed up
Sorry, I must have messed something up, I tried to post some of the things I wrote ages ago but suddenly they appear on top instead of the correct date.
So:
How was your day
Random mobile photos
and Doing the right things
is old and not up to date but only for pure entertainment.
The newest blog post is this one.
So:
How was your day
Random mobile photos
and Doing the right things
is old and not up to date but only for pure entertainment.
The newest blog post is this one.
Hope is not the conviction that something will turn out well but the certainty that something makes sense, regardless of how it turns out.
Vaclav Havel
Doing the right things
It's been a while since I had time to write.
I mean sitting down, thinking about everything that comes to my mind and then writing something I hate and which is total crap, throwing everything away, starting to think again, maybe writing something new..
You get the idea.
So yeah it's been a while.
The last few days I had much time to think.
And I thought a lot, I guess.
Today I talked to the wife of a former patient on the phone.
She called me Nurse Tiny instead of Trainee Tiny (yeah, I like it and I got used to it since almost everybody calls me so) but I tried to correct her.
She answered: "I will call you Nurse Tiny to congratulate you for your exam, it's so great what you are doing."
(Little fun fact: I've never ever seen her or talked to her before.)
At the moment I'm not the nurse I wanted to be when I started working in hospital.
Definitely not.
Not even a little bit to be honest.
I get mad in a second.
Old people annoy me (nearly all of them).
My back hurts like a bitch because there is no one who helps me to lift this 120kg monster up.
I mean sitting down, thinking about everything that comes to my mind and then writing something I hate and which is total crap, throwing everything away, starting to think again, maybe writing something new..
You get the idea.
So yeah it's been a while.
The last few days I had much time to think.
And I thought a lot, I guess.
Today I talked to the wife of a former patient on the phone.
She called me Nurse Tiny instead of Trainee Tiny (yeah, I like it and I got used to it since almost everybody calls me so) but I tried to correct her.
She answered: "I will call you Nurse Tiny to congratulate you for your exam, it's so great what you are doing."
(Little fun fact: I've never ever seen her or talked to her before.)
At the moment I'm not the nurse I wanted to be when I started working in hospital.
Definitely not.
Not even a little bit to be honest.
I get mad in a second.
Old people annoy me (nearly all of them).
My back hurts like a bitch because there is no one who helps me to lift this 120kg monster up.
Random Mobile Photos
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| Saturday evening |
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| Saturday evening II |
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| The devil in the coffee machine |
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| The abandoned ward |
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| The abandoned ward II |
How was your day? "Okay."
First shift after my vacation.
Morning shift, getting up at 4:30 am,
we (my instructor and I) have to take care of three patients, one is old, awake.
One is a man, born in the sixties, he is braindead. One of the neurologists showed me a few signs which show you that someone is braindead, for example the "Dolls eyes phenomenom",
His girlfriend or partner or whatever should be asked today if it's possible to take his organs.
I don't know what I would say.
Yes? No? No idea.
Morning shift, getting up at 4:30 am,
we (my instructor and I) have to take care of three patients, one is old, awake.
One is a man, born in the sixties, he is braindead. One of the neurologists showed me a few signs which show you that someone is braindead, for example the "Dolls eyes phenomenom",
His girlfriend or partner or whatever should be asked today if it's possible to take his organs.
I don't know what I would say.
Yes? No? No idea.
Update
Things aren't going so well lately and I have to confess that saying this still feels totally sugarcoated.
What I can say for now:
I finally decided to give up my dream of becoming a doctor since yesterday I received the negative answer concerning getting into Uni this year.. or next year.
So, skip the little future doctoresse.
Maybe it's the future petite sans-emploi.
Ok maybe it's not that worse but saying that I am slightly broken-hearted, is still bragging at its best.
Fuck it.
12.02.13
10.02.13
9:03
Yesterday two patients at the ward died.
Their hearts stopped at 9:03.
One colleague joked that they died togheter so they don't have to leave this world alone.
This made me really sad.
In the end, you die alone, no matter what.
I helped on of my colleagues who took care of the dead male patient to pluck out all the catheters etc.
And he (the patient) just wouldn't stop bleeding. Seriously. It was horrible.
My colleague said: "I hope you are not too sensitive."
and I replied: "Why? What do you mean?"
He answered: "Well, I don't wanna wait until this fella here finally stops spilling his lifeblood all over the place, so: Yeah, never mind, ok?"
Then he plugged in the aspiration catheter we usually use to remove mucus and pus out of the patients airways, into the hole the interventional lung assist left in that dead mans groin.
I felt a little sick in that moment.
Their hearts stopped at 9:03.
One colleague joked that they died togheter so they don't have to leave this world alone.
This made me really sad.
In the end, you die alone, no matter what.
I helped on of my colleagues who took care of the dead male patient to pluck out all the catheters etc.
And he (the patient) just wouldn't stop bleeding. Seriously. It was horrible.
My colleague said: "I hope you are not too sensitive."
and I replied: "Why? What do you mean?"
He answered: "Well, I don't wanna wait until this fella here finally stops spilling his lifeblood all over the place, so: Yeah, never mind, ok?"
Then he plugged in the aspiration catheter we usually use to remove mucus and pus out of the patients airways, into the hole the interventional lung assist left in that dead mans groin.
I felt a little sick in that moment.
06.02.13
I am sorry I can't help you
I am busy with one of my patients.
Behind the privacy curtain the other (awake and slightly demented) patient wants something.
I stand next to his bed and say: "Look, I am wearing gloves and the plastic apron since I am busy washing your neighbour. But when I am finished, I will be there for you, alright?"
"Alright" he answers, while I vanish behind the privacy curtain again.
"And I am sorry I can't help you over there." he adds.
I smile a little bit.
Behind the privacy curtain the other (awake and slightly demented) patient wants something.
I stand next to his bed and say: "Look, I am wearing gloves and the plastic apron since I am busy washing your neighbour. But when I am finished, I will be there for you, alright?"
"Alright" he answers, while I vanish behind the privacy curtain again.
"And I am sorry I can't help you over there." he adds.
I smile a little bit.
Abonnieren
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