Survival

If not . . . thrival. Yeah.

Anyway, so clinicals are happening now. And unlike my classes, which were pretty painfully boring to write about (no one wants to hear about the fine line between obsessive compulsive disorder and obsessive compulsive personality disorder), shit actually happens in these! Literally. Crap.

My very first patient, who I will remember at least perpetually, if not fondly, was an elderly gentleman with a diagnosis of TERMINAL LAZINESS. Okay, not really, that's not a real condition, but it might as well have been. Left to his own devices, he would choose to lay all curled up in the bed, never turning or moving or whatever. Eventually, with some strong motivational words from the physical therapist ("there's no reason you can't feed yourself, sir") he took on a little more of his own care, but not before wasting a good deal of time in my morning running around after him ("Can you hold my cup for me?", "Can you feed me breakfast?", "I need the bedpan" which of course was immediately followed by "I don't have to go anymore", and other similar requests). Granted, he was my only patient, and believe me, I don't take that for granted at all, but as it was my first day in the hospital (EVER) I felt a little harried anyhow, and constantly having to drop everything so he could tell me how pretty I am (creepy) and ask where his tissues were (under his hand) got old, fast.

But patient #2, well, she's been lovely so far. She's pretty quiet, and compliant, and so very polite (you can do the least comfortable, most embarrassing procedure on her and she'll thank you for all your help at the end). She is a little addled and sometimes she gets kind of feisty, but after last week, I'll take it. Creepy is not okay, but feisty old ladies, fine. Plus I'm getting more comfortable, so besides being kind of poky on some things (bed baths will be my nemesis for some time, I think) I am getting more solid. 

Except for the part where I ripped an entire drawer of medication, syringes, needles and various other flotsam out of a portable med station thing. To be fair, my instructor did say "You have to pull on it really hard, it kind of gets stuck." But I suppose I did get . . . overenthusiastic. At least I provided entertainment to everyone who witnessed the event. And who witnessed me scrambling around on the floor to put all the little packets back where they came from.

Tomorrow is more of the same - feisty old lady, bed baths and meds, hopefully uneventful and without drawer-contents-ejection. And after clinical I leave I get to drive up to the ever-exciting metropolitan hub of GETTYSBURG! (Who's jealous? I know you are). There's a big show going on up there and my mom is showing Miss Lola for me, so I am going along to braid, cheer and provide comic relief.  Of which I am certain there will be plenty.

I would promise updates and photos, but we all know how good I am at that. So suffice to say I will attempt. Fingers crossed, everyone.