So, last night. Blah. It was my first night using the brandy-new computer charting system recently unveiled at work. It wasn't too bad, but added a lot of time and confusion and discomfort to my charting process at work. I didn't have any huge problems with it, although I'm fairly sure I only charted about 12% of what I was supposed to. In the midst of the confusion, and the weirdness of no longer having paper MARS (it's all electronic now) I missed my patient's chemo dose. So it ended being about three hours late. In the morning when the managers got there they all flipped out and I stayed late writing an incident report and feeling like the sloppiest stupidest nurse ever. BUT by that point in the morning I was numb and sad and annoyed and just sick of looking at computers at all.
My patient died last night...not the missed-chemo patient, a completely different patient. A young man I'd cared for over the past several weeks. I wasn't his nurse last night but spent some time helping the family and was able to have a nice talk with them before I left in the morning.
Meanwhile, the ICU admission that I got was the furthest thing from the cakewalk DNR/DNI hemonc patient that I expected. What exactly do you do when your patient rips her leads off, smacks you out of the way, and insists on leaving the unit to smoke despite the fact that her lips and hands are blue and her oxygen saturation is 68%? I wish I could just say fine, go ahead then, and come on back when you're ready to accept our help. Uff.
Anyway. Tonight is definitely a Pagliacci's night. Yes, I use food as a coping mechanism. Is that so wrong? It's cheaper than crack.