Nurse Ratched’s Place

After a long weekend at work, I like to kick back and relax. When I was young, kicking back included a few Rum and Cokes. Look at those dinky little glasses. No thank you, I prefer my Coke in a Seven Eleven Super Big Gulp cup. These days when I want to relax, I drink my Coke without the rum, and kick back in front of my computer. I love the simple life. Blogging goes better with Coke!

Did you know that the first flight attendances were nurses? Yep, it’s true, the women in these pictures are nurses. Nurses use to pour coffee from sterling silver coffeepots and serve sandwiches, as airline customers sat back and gazed at the clouds drifting by. We were the queens of good customer service. The American public viewed nurses as sweet and kind, as well as great little handmaidens.

Fast forward to 2006. My boss pulls me into her office to tell me that a family member of one of my patients registered a complaint against me. The individual was upset because I told them that if they didn’t stop threatening to meet me in the parking lot after my shift to beat me up, I was going to call the police. The incident revolved around my refusal to disclose confidential psychiatric information to this individual. My boss told me that my comments were an example of “poor customer service,” and I needed to be more like an “airline stewardess.” I was politely asked not to “incite” my patients or their family members anymore and to please remember that customer service is my first priority. I sat in boss’s office in shock and disbelief, and then I started laughing. I thanked my boss for her feedback, told her I thought she was nuts, and left her office.

If bedside nurses are airline stewardesses, someone forgot to give us our silver wings. I’m all for customer service, but the day I’m required to take a beating in the parking lot for sake of good customer service is the day I tear up my nursing license and get a job at Borders Books.

I’m a nurse, not punching bag.

I just got home after completing another 16-hour shift. I’m so tired, but even though I’m drifting off in front of my computer screen, I’m compelled to visit my favor websites and get in my daily dose of blogging. Could I be addicted to the Internet?

This kid has the right idea about getting a good night’s sleep, it’s all about finding the perfect place to crash. Look at the cute baby, all sweet and innocent. Just wait until the kid hits adolescence. Poor mommy and daddy will be wondering what happened to their sweet child.

Nite nite.

Today’s book report is about “Hospital Nocturne” by Alice Eleanor Lambert. This oldie but goodie was first published in 1932, and is described by the author as an enchanting behind-the-scenes account of the excitement and drama of the little world within a hospital.

Love and Tragedy in a Hospital…..

“Strange, isn’t it?” Carol Maitland, grave, sweet-faced student nurse, says slowly. “I just love every bit of it. The patients, the babies, the excitement of the surgeries—fighting with interns and having sort of half-flirtations with the doctors—there’s something going on in this place every minute.”

To lovely, gracious Carol, who had been robbed suddenly of her parents, the big hospital has become home, safety, and friends. Sharing gay adventures with her beautiful roommate, Enid Ashland, and the madcap, Sheila Lane; helping genial old Father Time, the institution’s favorite patient, sneak they young nurses in through his open window after-hours; bullying rich young Rodney Herrick into forgetting that he came to the hospital to die; going out on a blind date with Sheila and meeting Jean, a strangely exciting naval officer—all that is part of the fascinating life of the young student nurse.

Then suddenly everything begins to go wrong. Jean goes away and doesn’t come back, and Carol begins to doubt her own code of ethics. Shelia forgets her Heck and falls in love with Dr. Lait, who is too grand ever to marry a nurse. Enid begins drifting toward the rocks and Carol feels powerless to help her. The Canfield case comes in and the whole hospital boils with the futility of the affair. And there is the heart-breaking night when Carol and Rodney hear Enid’s agonized cry and find her wandering half-crazed about the garden.

Has anyone seen this hospital before? Here’s a map. Wherever it is, I’m staying away. There’s too much drama going on in that place.

I don’t remember any of this stuff happening when I went to nursing school. Granted, I went to school many years ago, but my memory isn’t totally gone. I remember staying up long hours with my nose in nursing books, and not going out because I was too busy keeping up with my schoolwork. I remember living in a three story nursing dormitory. It was old and rundown, and there was no air conditioning during the hot summer and little heat during the winter. We had three housemothers, one for each shift that made sure we returned to the dorm safe and sound. They were tough customers that made sure we didn’t sneak men into the dormitory. I remember the girls who lived with me. We were like family. There was one payphone on each floor, and we would ease drop on each other’s phone calls. We didn’t flirt with doctors and we got along with interns. We were all kind of crazy, but I don’t remember any of my friends wandering half-crazed about the garden.

What do you remember about being a nursing student?

The honeymoon is over! I love my computer, but I very unhappy with Apple customer service. In 2004, shortly after I bought my computer, my screen saver went haywire, so I took my computer back to the store to have it checked out. It takes me about an hour and a half to drive to the Apple Store. They said the computer was fine, and after pushing a few buttons, they sent me home. A few weeks later, my computer overheated. I went back to the Apple store, and again, everything “checked out,” and I was sent back home. The appearance of the screen saver never improved, but it was something I could live with. Fast forward to yesterday when my computer’s DVD player died. The Genius Bar guy said I need a new video card installed, which will cost $325. When I told the Genius Bar guy about my past problems, he said those problems were due to a faulty video card. “Why didn’t someone tell me that when the computer was under warranty?,” I asked. He couldn’t answer the question, but did admonish me for not buying an extended warranty on the computer. Of course, when he checked the store’s computer, he couldn’t find any record of me talking to anyone in the store, so I’m screwed. Needless to say, I told the young man that I wasn’t spending any more money at their store, and took my computer home. I’m writing the iPod Father a letter about what happened, and I’m going to make him an offer he can’t refuse. I hope Apple decides to do the right thing, and fixes my computer free of charge.

First the good news; Pictures! I want to thank Chris from “Trading Faces” for teaching me about Foxfire. After following the directions he e-mailed me,my blogger world became a happier place.

Now the bad news, my life support system (my Mac G4 laptop) is sick and I’m taking it in tomorrow for a check up. Every time I play a DVD, green, square, pixels dance across the screen, making it impossible to see what’s playing. I called the Apple Store and talked to a clerk, and he told me to make an appointment at the Genius Bar. I’m nervous about leaving my computer for repairs, but thank God we’re a two Mac family.

I hereby award my daughter’s new boyfriend the Picky Mom’s Seal of Approval. A couple of nights ago while on their first date, they returned to my daughter’s apartment to find her cat dying on the kitchen floor. My daughter told me she started screaming and crying hysterically. My daughter’s new boyfriend sat up with her all night at the vet emergency room, and took her back home after her cat died. My daughter told me she thought her new boyfriend would never call her again. Wrong! He called her, and sent her flowers. She asked me what I thought of him. I think he’s a keeper.

I know why we can’t post pictures on Blogger.com, and it is such a simple reason, I don’t know why no one has thought of this before. Google did something to infuriate the blog-gods. I suspect Google stole information from the blog-gods, and that they used the information to setup Blogger.com’s new beta format.

Gods can be a wrathful bunch. I remember hearing about a guy named Prometheus. He is credited for stealing fire from the gods and giving it to mortals for our use. When the gods found out about Prometheus’s shenanigans, they chained him to Mount Caucasus, and let an eagle picked at his liver everyday. The punishment was supposed to last 30,000 years, but Prometheus worked out a plea bargain with Zeus, and was released on his own recognizance.

Maybe Google can strike a deal with the blog-gods. Does anyone know where we can find a sacrificial virgin?

Off with their heads! I’m still waiting for Blogger.com to get their act together. Every time I try to post a picture, my browser crashes. I use Safari OSX. This makes me a very unhappy princess-nurse. (Since I can’t upload pictures, visualize a picture of a pouting princess- nurse, wearing her crown, standing by a guillotine).

Speaking of royalty, the queen of domestic perfection, Martha Stewart, published another “to do” list in this month’s edition of Martha Stewart Living magazine. Sorry Martha, I don’t have time to dust my ceilings, walls, and baseboards this month, or any other month this century. I’ll never forget when Martha, the poster child for OCD, instructed readers to rotate their lampshades. Martha explained that this would allow their lampshades to fade more evenly as sunlight came through their windows. Maybe next month Martha’s personal “to do” list can include getting a prescription for Paxil. It’s an effective medication for OCD. (Visualize a picture of a happy, relaxed Martha Stewart, standing in a messy house surrounded by dusty ceilings, walls, and baseboards). Paxil, it’s a good thing!

Blogging without pictures is like a day without shopping. It sucks! For some reason, I can’t upload pictures to my blog. I hate this. If I could upload pictures, I’d show you one of me pulling my hair out.

I worked another 16 hour shift yesterday, and as usual, it wasn’t any fun. My boss called to let me know that, if I needed her, I could reach her on her cell phone. She said she was going to a dinner party with her family. She sounded happy and stress-free. I was stressed out when she called, and ready to start looking for a new job. Oh well, at least she called.

I work an 8 hour shift today, and then I can get back to non-stop blogging until next weekend.

Holy cow, what’s going on here? Liveright Publishing Corporation first published this book in 1938. Pyramid Books republished it in 1952.

Exposed!

“A doctor and a nurse embraced in the dusky shadows of the gray walled room, their bodies entwined, their lips pressed together. Suddenly there were footsteps in the corridor….somebody opened the door and turned on the light….

Hospital Doctor takes you into the private world of doctors and mistresses, nurses and lovers—an amazing world of heroes and heels who are tempted by pretty faces and a craving for cash.

From the incisive pen of a surgeon himself comes the shocking truth behind many of the operations performed annually which lead to mayhem and manslaughter; the startling expose of underpaid interns and ruthless physicians who resort to shameless practices and character assassination in their ambitious quests for fame and money.”

I got halfway through the first chapter of Hospital Doctor and couldn’t stop laughing. Nurses don’t have time to go to the bathroom, let alone time to play “doctor” with a doctor. See the nurse in the doorway. She’s telling her coworker that she better get back to the unit because all of her patients are on their call light, wanting pain medication. I wonder how she keeps her cap from flying off her head while she’s making out with her boyfriend.

In chapter one, the main character, a doctor, is portrayed as a god, while the supporting characters, the nurses, are portrayed as brainless tramps. And of course, all the brainless-tramp nurses want to marry an oversexed doctor. Now why would anyone want to marry a guy that chases skirts around a nurse’s station? Maybe these nurses are brainless. I love how the author, a surgeon, claimed that his porno book was an exposé about the health care system. Too bad the guy isn’t around today, blogging on the Internet. I’m sure he would make us all blush.

The only thing I find appealing about this book is the cover. I love trashy artwork on book covers from the 1950s.