Burnout.

6 months ago it was my dream and ultimate goal to score a job in the Emergency Room at my hospital. Key word being was…

The process of transferring to the ED (Emergency Department) was easy enough. A lot easier than I thought it would be, considering my monster of a manger (see earlier post). I expected Ursula to make leaving the floor the worst and ugliest battle of my life. Instead, she made it unbelievably easy. Too easy.

The entire process of moving down to the ED took less than a week…application online, calls from Human Resources, interview with ED management, the whole shebang. I didn't even have a chance to tell my coworkers on the floor that I would be leaving them for a new job. I was offered a position in the ED, accepted immediately, and was not even given one last day on the floor to bid my goodbyes. Everybody assumes that transferring to another department is a process. My transfer was not a process. It was an opportunity for Ursula to get rid of me without having to fire me. She wanted me gone.

So there I was…bittersweet about leaving the floor, but so ready for a change of pace. I mean, working in the ER is the dream, right?! That’s what I had been telling myself from the day I started hating working on the floor under Ursula’s menacing glare.

I couldn't have been more excited. After all, I wanted to see some real life Grey’s Anatomy stuff go down! I wanted to do CPR, I wanted to see gun shot wounds, I wanted to save lives! I wanted something fast paced and challenging. I was tired of wiping butts and helping people to the bathroom. I was ready for a crazy awesome job that produced crazy awesome stories to tell.

So here I am…about 2 ½ months into my ER career…and I hate it. Despise it. Want to spit on it. This place is nothing like I thought it would be. I believe I am guilty of watching too many medical dramas on TV and falling in love with that lifestyle they portray…so glamorous, so important, so life changing. FALSE. It’s blasphemous I tell you! Z, if you are reading this, you were right. Damn, that did not taste good coming out of my mouth.

Yes, I wanted something fast paced, different every day, challenging, but I just feel so overwhelmed and so underwhelmed all at once. I am missing the comfort of knowing what my day will look like, missing the structure of doing certain tasks at certain times of the day. I am missing getting to know my patients, developing relationships with them, building trust. In the ER, your patients may be here only a couple of hours, they’re in and out. Sometimes I don’t even know what patients are in my rooms. The pace of the department is so crazy, I don’t have time to stop and really know who my patients are. I hate this. The reason I wanted to get into nursing in the first place has been kicked to the ground and trampled on. Who are my patients? I have no idea.

I feel like compassion is missing in the ER. Don’t get me wrong, everyone is nice enough, for the most part. My coworkers seem to enjoy their jobs, they seem to enjoy taking care of their patients. It’s just different. There aren't as many smiles, there aren't as many laughs. Maybe it’s a different kind of compassion…more of the intense, I must save your life right this instant and then you can go home so I can help the next person in line kind of compassion. On the floor, your patients might stay a couple of days, maybe weeks, maybe months, it tends to be more of a let me comfort you when you’re at your weakest, you can cry on my shoulder, tell me your life story, let me read the newspaper to you, let me sit by your side while you eat kind of compassion. Out of the two types of compassion I just described, I have figured out that I am more in love with the latter.

When I worked on the floor, even if it was the most exhausting, disgusting, must shower as soon as I get home kind of day, I never had any trouble feeling good about what I had accomplished during my shift. It could have been something as small as making a particularly difficult patient smile for half a second, or having a patient say they feel like a new person after their bath, or having a patient introduce you to their family member as if you are their best friend, or having a really meaningful talk with a coworker while sipping coffee...I could go on and on. Because all of these little things add up to one big thing...I love what I do.

In the ER, I find myself dreading work and having an extremely poor attitude towards my new job. I don't feel good about what I do anymore. During my shifts, I find myself thinking, "what am I doing here? I hate this." Yes, there are the occasional rewarding moments when I feel like I truly helped a very sick person. But more often than not, the people that come into the ER really have no business there. And instead of having compassion for them, I find myself getting angry with them. Not outwardly angry, I just bottle it up. And it doesn't feel good.

I know there are a million different fields of nursing I could go into, I just don't know what is right for me yet. I do know that this place will not be the ER.

Yours truly,

Frustrated and discouraged FutureRN

A monster of a manager.

Most of us workers have one thing in common...we all have a boss. Unless you are lucky enough to work for yourself, work at home (ultimate dream for me), or have a boss who really isn't like a boss at all...they are nice, fun-loving, and more like a friend than your higher up. That sounds nice.

In the nursing field, we most always will have someone above us who has the ability to crush us, fire us, undermine us, light us on fire, take away our license, etc. For PCAs and RNs, most of the time that unholy person is our "clinical manager." Also known as "bitch to watch out for." 

My particular experience with my very first clinical manager was less than satisfactory, to say the least. 

During my human resources orientation to the hospital, I remember thinking how strange it was that so many new hires were going to be on my floor. Roughly 75% of my orientation group were going to be working on the same floor as me...that should have been my first clue to get the fuck out of there. But, being the naive little girl that I am, I paid no attention to this at the time. I enthusiastically completed my orientation and finally made my way to the floor...or maybe I should call it the place where all dreams die. 

Let me introduce you to Ursula. Obviously this is not her real name, but seeing as Ursula also doubles as an evil octopus sea monster, I think the name is fitting. Obviously the first time I met Ursula was during my interview for the PCA position. I really didn't have any strong thoughts about her at the time, considering I was in interview mode and was determined to make her like me. I did notice that she walked with a limp. Probably a peg leg from a previous encounter with a disgruntled employee. It wouldn't surprise me. 

As I started to get more accustomed to my position on the floor, I began to notice little things. Like how controlling Ursula was. Control was very, very important to her. Scary important. On each floor of the hospital, we have a time clock where employees can clock in and out each day or evening. Ursula made it a rule that her employees could only clock in/out on her floor (and only her floor) no earlier than 6 minutes before our shifts started and no later than 6 minutes past the time our shifts were supposed to end. If we clocked in or out outside of these time frames, it would be an automatic verbal warning which was documented in our employee file. Along with the warning, we would receive half a point added to our time and attendance record. Points are a bad thing. 

It might be important for you to know that Ursula's rule did not apply to the whole hospital, just her floor. Other floors who had different managers were much more relaxed. Employees talk. It's pretty telling of who you're working for when float pool comes to cover one of your coworkers' shifts and they tell you that the grass really is greener on the other side. 

Ursula was also extremely weird, rude, and bitchy about her employees finding another job, transferring to another floor, etc. My coworkers would tell me stories about how a friend they used to work with handed in her two weeks notice and then Ursula fired her on the spot. Just flat out fired her! The poor girl had a pristine employee record, was a hard worker, had done nothing wrong. My coworkers had lots of stories similar to this. Ursula needs to be in control. What a psychotic bitch. 

My first tiff with Ursula happened about 6 months after I had been working for her. One of my patients that day was recovering from a knee replacement surgery, which was not typical for our floor. This patient and I were getting along great all day, we were joking, we were laughing, I could tell she trusted me. Until her daughters came in to visit around dinnertime. OMG these daughters were the bane of my existence. Suddenly, Mom needed a million things, I was doing everything wrong. They were furious about the way I got Mom up from her chair. They were furious about the way I walked with her across the room to the bathroom. And the worst part is, this sweet little lady also joined in on the bitch act! It's like her daughters peer pressured her into finding a million problems with me.

Before I knew it, one of the daughters turned into miss tattletale and I was being called into Ursula's office. Ursula instructed me to shut the door (never a good sign) and have a seat across from her. I was in the Principal's office.

Ursula began to tell me what one of the daughters had relayed to her, all exaggerated of course, and then started scolding me for not having a second staff member in the room when trying to ambulate this patient to the bathroom. I tried to explain to Ursula that this patient and I had been buddies all day long and had no trouble walking, going to the bathroom, etc. until the daughters arrived. I told Ursula I had been ambulating this woman all day by myself and we didn't encounter any problems whatsoever. She waived off my input all together. I feel like she didn't even register what I had said. It was very clear Ursula was not at all interested in my side of the story. She was only interested in scolding me. Again, Ursula has to be in control.

At the end of Ursula's rant she had the nerve to say, "Are you OK? I don't want you to be upset about this. You look like you're getting upset."

I assured her I was fine and then went to the bathroom and cried for 10 minutes. No big deal.

This may seem like a somewhat mild story to some of you, but it was the first time I had ever had an issue with a boss and it really made an impression on me. I felt so betrayed after being called into Ursula's office, I felt like my employer was not on my side and therefore did not value me as an employee or even as a person. From this moment on, my hate fire for Ursula began to grow. Consider this the very first of the Ursula bitch chronicles. 

Dreaming of that white picket fence...

October 1st. An especially exciting day for all Netflix lovers. For those of you who haven't heard, 7 seasons, 153 episodes of Gilmore Girls are now available on Netflix!! Awww yisss! After finishing seasons 1-4 of Downton Abbey (anxiously awaiting season 5 in January), I have been in a slight TV rut. I hate that feeling of finishing a series and not knowing what to do with your life/how to get out of your sweatpants. So this news of Gilmore Girls has cheered me up significantly! I used to watch it every day after school and I gladly welcome the show back into my life as the fall season creeps in on this foggy day.

Watching the first couple episodes of GG (Gilmore Girls, not Gossip Girl), I can't help but fall in love with the charm of Stars Hollow, the constant cups of coffee, and Lorelei's gorgeous house with the always roaring fireplace. I have a thing for fireplaces.

Z and I have been dating for four years now. Dating seems like too small of a word for our relationship. We are more than dating, but not engaged yet. Is there a word for that phase? Z is the love of my life. He is the best friend I have ever had, my secret keeper, my partner in crime, my love. I cannot adequately describe how much and how immensely I love him, I can just tell you that he saved me in more ways than one and that he is the part of me I cannot function without.

How does Gilmore Girls relate to my love story with Z? Well, Z and I have recently been talking about moving in together. We are over the apartment/living at home phase. After all, we adopted a dog together almost two years ago who loves being outside and needs a nice, safe, fenced in backyard where he can romp around all he wants. So yes, ideally, we would like to move into a house. This is a huge deal for both of us since we still live at home with our parents. I know, I know. Lame. At one point in time when I was still trying to figure out my life plan, I lived in an apartment on my own. This is when we adopted our puppy and Z would come to visit us each and every weekend (we lived very far apart at the time). So we've been through the apartment phase, we've been through the long distance relationship phase, we are freaking ready to move in and start our lives together.

I want more than anything to live in a small, charming town like Stars Hollow, to live in a house like Lorelei's, to wake up to Z every morning snuggled next to me. It's this crisp, colorful start of October that makes me long for evenings in front of a warm fireplace, sipping hot tea with honey, cuddling with Z and our loving puppy, falling asleep in his arms.

Ah, October.