Saturday, April 23, 2005
My Ass.
On Call : An act of sitting on the ass in the seminar room next to the Intensive Care Unit praying that all those parasite riddled souls, survive the night and midwives dial up their threshold for calling the epidural service, while me, growing beard looking up some interesting blogs to read or failing that write in own blog, thinking why do people say things they don’t mean?
Could be a nice thing to blog about but I am sure it’ll come out so stupid it’s not worthy of my non- writer brain. I’ll stick to my huffing and puffing about my job.
Chief midwife just bleeped me to say that they have a woman with twins who is 9 cm dilated and the second baby is a breech (read: err…breech). We might need to go to theatre if the second baby misbehave and decide to stay in for a bit longer. I can imagine her reciting it over and over again before bleeping me. It sounded like an announcement for half price yogurts in isle 4 in ASDA.
Getting a courtesy call full of information on the status of a woman’s vagina and cervix never fail to please me. I smile in elation hoping for more to come. Not.
4 cm, 6 cm , 8 cm and all that just by using fingers. I have forgotten how to do that and I only left med school 3 years ago. Amazing how knowledge and skills deplete exponentially from the day you hold that scroll in your hands.
So what now, can’t possibly sleep thinking that I might have to jump out of the bed and run to theatre after trying to coordinate my arms, legs and spine like a 2 minute old lamb, and zoom my eyes into a less strabismustic and squintic mode while trying to calm a screaming lady, before stabbing her in the back with a 16G Touhy needle. Yaaaaaaaaaaahhhhh!!!!!! can I?
I wonder if people with muddled minds normally write as longwinded as I do. It’s normal to have apprehensions and anxieties when it comes to those little things called foetuses but I think mine is turning clinical. Come on, it’s not like this is going to go on for much longer, you’re going on a holiday soon.
On that note, I was telling Helen just now how unfair this Trust has treated me with regards to my days in lieu from those bank holidays I have worked. That New Year’s eve when that drunken man came in with a knife in his right chest, we worked like we were in ER the series.
Sats dropping, he’s not breathing CPR! blood pressure dropping 60/40, push blood, no blood? Get O neg now, clear fridge just bring all, get arterial line, shit my shoes, Sats dropping more, somebody stab second intercostals, tension pneumothorax..chest drain, shit, he’s aspirating get the bloody chest drain in already bloody surgeon ,he needs tubing NOW!!!
Oh I lived the next week replaying pause rewinding, replaying pause, rewinding the same event over and over again high on adrenaline. All on cue, no lines forgotten. My ass was worked out so hard it felt well perk came morning when the sun finally kissed it.
That Christmas day when I was stuck doing 3 spinals for emergency caesarean sections, one after the other I was thinking of replacing Khaiessa with Robotssa. But I thought no, Khaiessa is a good one to keep, it’s got hits on Google. My ass was worked like it’s never been worked before that night, I was thinking of taking a picture of my ass and plaster it to all windows in maternity footnoting: DON’T MESS WITH MY ASS NOMORE!!!.
That day when that doctor called in sick and I had to continue my 12 hr shift into 24 hr shift without a slight uh audible, do they even remember that? My ass was sooo tired already, felt like rubbing my ass with olive oil and vinegar and wrap my ass nice and warm with crepe bandage easily obtainable from Nurse Dunbar and put my ass in a jar so my ass heals nicely ready for the next time my ass will be abused mercilessly. Sore, I tell you tstttt..auuhhh. My ass.
Now that the time comes I want to redeem my days in lieu, they just said to me ‘sorry those days are Saturdays and so effectively not bank holidays’. WTFoos!!! Why is it that nobody told me this conspiracy before? Had I knew that I’d have just ignored them. Let them beg for me to work, crawl at my legs, tugging my bluescrubs bottoms, weep like a widow, until they are so desperate they ask for £50 or even £70 an hour. Which would never happen by the way and I would have said yes even if I knew they don’t accrue in lieu day. Weak stupid stupid anaesthetist. Bang head on the wall. Sigh
Sometimes, to make an institution function, some of the workers have to suffer. Sometimes these workers make loud enough noise to be heard by the person next to them but most times bullying goes unnoticed, swept under the carpet. Hush..hush..you make noise, you'll die.
I am not asking for money. Just merely asking for my extra rightly deserved 2 days that you people owe me, but deny all knowledge and later twist your words around and hide behind a jumble of words and rules, when I, have worked my ass off while you management people with your tight ass at home sleeping in your stupid bed, in your stupid heated room growing your stupid big already tight ass. Ass seems to be the word of the day.
Me so angry me want to eat beehooon souuuuuuppp with fish balls!!!!!!! Arghhhhhhhh!!!!
My day was an ass.
Could be a nice thing to blog about but I am sure it’ll come out so stupid it’s not worthy of my non- writer brain. I’ll stick to my huffing and puffing about my job.
Chief midwife just bleeped me to say that they have a woman with twins who is 9 cm dilated and the second baby is a breech (read: err…breech). We might need to go to theatre if the second baby misbehave and decide to stay in for a bit longer. I can imagine her reciting it over and over again before bleeping me. It sounded like an announcement for half price yogurts in isle 4 in ASDA.
Getting a courtesy call full of information on the status of a woman’s vagina and cervix never fail to please me. I smile in elation hoping for more to come. Not.
4 cm, 6 cm , 8 cm and all that just by using fingers. I have forgotten how to do that and I only left med school 3 years ago. Amazing how knowledge and skills deplete exponentially from the day you hold that scroll in your hands.
So what now, can’t possibly sleep thinking that I might have to jump out of the bed and run to theatre after trying to coordinate my arms, legs and spine like a 2 minute old lamb, and zoom my eyes into a less strabismustic and squintic mode while trying to calm a screaming lady, before stabbing her in the back with a 16G Touhy needle. Yaaaaaaaaaaahhhhh!!!!!! can I?
I wonder if people with muddled minds normally write as longwinded as I do. It’s normal to have apprehensions and anxieties when it comes to those little things called foetuses but I think mine is turning clinical. Come on, it’s not like this is going to go on for much longer, you’re going on a holiday soon.
On that note, I was telling Helen just now how unfair this Trust has treated me with regards to my days in lieu from those bank holidays I have worked. That New Year’s eve when that drunken man came in with a knife in his right chest, we worked like we were in ER the series.
Sats dropping, he’s not breathing CPR! blood pressure dropping 60/40, push blood, no blood? Get O neg now, clear fridge just bring all, get arterial line, shit my shoes, Sats dropping more, somebody stab second intercostals, tension pneumothorax..chest drain, shit, he’s aspirating get the bloody chest drain in already bloody surgeon ,he needs tubing NOW!!!
Oh I lived the next week replaying pause rewinding, replaying pause, rewinding the same event over and over again high on adrenaline. All on cue, no lines forgotten. My ass was worked out so hard it felt well perk came morning when the sun finally kissed it.
That Christmas day when I was stuck doing 3 spinals for emergency caesarean sections, one after the other I was thinking of replacing Khaiessa with Robotssa. But I thought no, Khaiessa is a good one to keep, it’s got hits on Google. My ass was worked like it’s never been worked before that night, I was thinking of taking a picture of my ass and plaster it to all windows in maternity footnoting: DON’T MESS WITH MY ASS NOMORE!!!.
That day when that doctor called in sick and I had to continue my 12 hr shift into 24 hr shift without a slight uh audible, do they even remember that? My ass was sooo tired already, felt like rubbing my ass with olive oil and vinegar and wrap my ass nice and warm with crepe bandage easily obtainable from Nurse Dunbar and put my ass in a jar so my ass heals nicely ready for the next time my ass will be abused mercilessly. Sore, I tell you tstttt..auuhhh. My ass.
Now that the time comes I want to redeem my days in lieu, they just said to me ‘sorry those days are Saturdays and so effectively not bank holidays’. WTFoos!!! Why is it that nobody told me this conspiracy before? Had I knew that I’d have just ignored them. Let them beg for me to work, crawl at my legs, tugging my bluescrubs bottoms, weep like a widow, until they are so desperate they ask for £50 or even £70 an hour. Which would never happen by the way and I would have said yes even if I knew they don’t accrue in lieu day. Weak stupid stupid anaesthetist. Bang head on the wall. Sigh
Sometimes, to make an institution function, some of the workers have to suffer. Sometimes these workers make loud enough noise to be heard by the person next to them but most times bullying goes unnoticed, swept under the carpet. Hush..hush..you make noise, you'll die.
I am not asking for money. Just merely asking for my extra rightly deserved 2 days that you people owe me, but deny all knowledge and later twist your words around and hide behind a jumble of words and rules, when I, have worked my ass off while you management people with your tight ass at home sleeping in your stupid bed, in your stupid heated room growing your stupid big already tight ass. Ass seems to be the word of the day.
Me so angry me want to eat beehooon souuuuuuppp with fish balls!!!!!!! Arghhhhhhhh!!!!
My day was an ass.
