It is, again, that time.

Prepare yourself…Its Weekly Handover!

ST/N’s

Wardbunny is wondering if the NHS is just a joke…

When the NHS was started, no-one had considered the heart transplants or intensive care units. Massive hospitals offering neuro surgery in one building and plastic surgery and burns rehab in another.
In the same breath they couldn’t have imagined wards full of patients suffering from infections they caught only because they happened in be in hospital with a weakened immune system. Wardbunny. 

Orally Fixated Male Nurse is reflecting…

I’ve met some people who I now respect. That’s a good thing. People have been lovely to me today, with nurses and patients bidding me a fond adieu and even the doctors popped by to say goodbye and wish me well. I’ve impressed some people, and I’ve made some people happy. That’s what I go to school for, so to speak. Didn’t want to be a doctor.

Cellar Door has had a busy week…

Monday I had to get consent off one of the patients on the day unit so I could mention her in my next essay. She was so lovely she almost made me cry. I explained the situation and she was just so pleased that someone was taking an interest in her; I thanked her for agreeing and she thanked me for wanting to write about her. You just don’t get that in forensics. If nothing else, this placement has gone some way to restoring my faith in humanity, even if it’s just at the wrinklier end of the spectrum…

Tuesday I think nothing happened.

Wednesday was really good. I trawled merrily around some nursing homes and tried to ignore the 90 year old lady sat masturbating in the day area. Not Another Nursing Student Blog.

RN’s

Just occasionally, on a 12 hour shift you have a half an hour or so that normally becomes the material of what the TV would have any member of the public believe is about 5 minutes of nearly every show. However, for the first time yesterday that (sort of) happened. I finally had my first compliment paid… Staff Nurse Blog.

Christmas has come early over at Grumpy RN…

After a couple of hours sleep he woke up and demanded his Christmas puddings, I explained it was very late, that he would get them back in the morning, that he should get his head down and go back to sleep. I even told him that he was barred from eating in the ward outwith mealtimes. No effect, he demanded his puddings and was actually singing “I want my puddings, give me my puddings I’m hungry give me my puddings” He was annoying the other patients as well as me so I made the decision to give him his puddings for a bit of piece and quiet. I did NOT say the words “I hope they choke you” as I gave him the pudding (honest), but perhaps it crossed my mind. So I had quiet for a few minutes as he ate his pudding, suddenly I realised that perhaps that was not snoring but a choking sound coming from his bed. I rushed over to find his mouth full of pudding and he was choking on the rest - the stupid bug**r had pushed the whole pudding in in one go. Grumpy RN

RMN’s

E at Mental Nurse is discussing the smoking ban…

As the UK prepares to ban smoking in all public places including behind the bike sheds at the Mayfair club in London as well as euphemistically named “smoking rooms” on psychiatric admission wards up and down the country. Backrooms everywhere prepare to be no longer smoke filled and Mental Nurse takes a look at what other countries are doing to curb this perfectly legal occupation filthy and disgusting habit which is even worse than badger baiting or feeding small children feet first into the business end of a garden waste shredder.

Australia
Smokers are no longer able to light up on Manly, one of Australia’s most famous and picturesque stretches of surfing beach. Mr Ian, our Antipodean correspondent reports:

“Strewth it’s no longer considered manly to light up on Manly! What is this *@## ing country coming to? Once we were a proud nation unafraid to spark up when ever and where ever we wanted now we are a bunch of limp wrested wooses. No wonder we can’t come up with a decent national anthem the only thing that rhymes with Australia these days is dahlia and failure.”

Buhtan
The remote Himalayan Kingdom of Bhutan is thought to be the only country to introduce a total ban on tobacco and tobacco related products probably because they don’t know what they are. Mental Nurse.

Brilliant!

That’s it for this week! (Sorry its been a bit late!)

Laters!

A McD’s Burger

Do you think you’d be able to attempt the burger challenge?

While in the pub with my urban family the other day, we were discussing the possibility of such a challenge. I’ll summarise it below:

• Eat 10 McDonalds cheese burgers in 1 hour.
• No water/drink allowed in between burgers.
• If one does not wish onions/gherkins etc, one must substitute with a milkshake (sounds easier but have on good authority that it is not- cos it’s made of lard, or something).

Think you could do it? I reckon I could give it a go… Lucky I joined a gym really-I’ll need it with all those burgers! Those ten would probably be about two days calorific allowance- in the space of an hour! Also, slightly more off-puttingly, Prince told me this morning that Maccy D’s burgers are made of anal-rectal cow meat.

Lovely!

I got the last result today!

In psycho-babble, I got 65…

Finally can now relax.

I got the results of my Anatomy and Physiology, and Pharmacology exams today.

I was on placement from 7.30- which meant I checked the system every half an hour until they finally came live at about 10.15.

Everytime I opened it and found it hadn’t been uploaded yet I sank, like a lead balloon. And everytime I went to open it, I had palpitations.

I suppose you want to know what the results were?

Or maybe not…

Well, I’m telling you anyway- an amazing 79% on Anatomy and Physiology. Especially as I was completely unable to understand most of the questions (remember the post about “what colour is blood” and “surface properties of immunoglobulins”.)

Pharmacology was not as good. I got a somewhat disappointing 64%. Obviously, while this is still an excellent pass, I worked so hard, that I was a bit miffed all that work only got me a 64 (the pass marks are 40).

Only one result left to come now- psycho babble, as I’ve fondly called it. Roll on Friday.

I know, I know. Its not something to be proud of- I’m sorry. I’ve got something i need to say though.

I am a Bon Jovi fan. Just look at this:

Yes- that is my CD rack, and in it resides no less than seven Bon Jovi Albums. I should be ashamed, but I am not (I am more embarrassed at the Blur albums you can see at the bottom- and the fact that it is probably pretty obvious that I keep my CDs in alphabetical order.)

I have been a fan for years. Three times I’ve attempted to see Bon Jovi live in concert- and three times I’ve failed. Miserably. Usually due to unforgiving bosses, missing phone calls or just my own stupidity.

It nearly happened again on Friday. Its because I’ve just finished nights you see- I’m all confused. In fact, I had settled down in front of the telly, had a little sleep and was watching the thing about St.Kilda and the robots that look at the caves (or something).

At about 19.40pm I decided I might go and check my phone and eat a box of smarties- I discovered about 10 missed calls, a facebook message and a message on MSN. I tried to read them but the messages blurred in front of my eyes. Something about…. Bon Jovi.

I called my friend back in a haze of excitment and fear that I may have missed my opportunity to see them again.

Faith, are you coming or what- I’ve got you a ticket. Get to my house right now.

Holy mother of Jesus.

I got changed, and ran like a bat out of hell round to my mate J’s house. There was no way, no fucking way I was missing Bon Jovi. Again.

We arrived at Twickenham Stadium just in time for the opening of the show- Livin’ on a Prayer, in fact, was the opening number- a bit of a surprise there.

My favourite part I think had to be “Bonjovioke” (as J christened it). The band did “Twist and Shout” by the Beatles, and “Start me up“, by the Stones- and at the very end, did Shout, (sort of in with “Bad Medicine“)- not sure of who sang it originally- I’d like to say Lulu, but i don’t think it is.

Anyway, it was amazing. J didn’t realise I was even a Bon Jovi fan!

And just to prove I was there…

And I never did eat those smarties!

Its that time again! I bet you all can’t wait, if you actually read this at all (you probably don’t), but anyway- this is it- its time for handover…

(If you have any comments, nominations etc email me on miss.faith.walker@gmail.com).

ST/N’s

OFMN is in a bad mood…

I spent my last hour of work doing the work of support workers, half of which couldn’t be arsed to do what they’re paid for - after turning up late - and the other half who couldn’t be bothered to turn up at the start of their shift.

The bane of every nursing students life. Read the rest of the blog here.

Cellar Door is cross with people always commenting on her weight.

Most people wouldn’t go up to someone overweight and ask them why they were so fat. They wouldn’t suggest to them that they were mentally ill, and that they should see a doctor. They wouldn’t sit and watch to see if they went and vomited after eating lunch, and pass knowing glances if they go to the loo within 20 minutes after. Well, obviously they wouldn’t do that to someone overweight, but you get the picture. So why do exactly that to someone thin? I am sick (har har) of being accused of being anorexic (yes, people have actually asked outright; like I would collapse at their feet, thank them for helping me to see the truth and beg for their help if I was), I am sick of people I have just met commenting on my weight, I am sick of my every bite of food being scruitinised.

I am somewhat overweight at the moment- and people do ask me why I am so fat (my friends, sadly). Read the whole post here- well worth a read.

HCA/CSW/NA etc.

Baby blue pyjamas has had a busy week…

A lady was rushed in with an OD of tri-ciclates, apparently this is bad. Her GCS was around four to five, and she was having problems maintaining her airway. ITU was summoned and quickly made the decision to intubate. She had aspirated while she lay on her sofa, waiting to be discovered. Her sats hovered round the low 90’s.

Find the rest of the blog here.

RNs

Staff Nurse M has had his first encounter with a “pain in the arse relative“…

 I am sorry, but I am not going to be bullied by a relative who is ACTIVELY LOOKING for a reason to complain, rather then those who actually complain because they have been the unfortunate person on the receiving end of things when they go wrong. Now, I am not going to give too much away, but when you are trying to deal with a patient who had just taken a serious and unanticipated turn for the worse, I cannot, and will not, attend to another task which can wait when failure to act with the clinically priority patient could result in a cardiac arrest.

Stand you ground! Find the blog here.

Grumpy RN is pleased to be scottish (and male)…

At last, we men are getting a screening all of our own. Women have, quite rightly, had smear tests and breast screening for years and we have had at best bowel cancer screening - although this is a unisex one. Finally, there is one being offered to men only. It’s for Aortic Aneurysms see the report here. Unfortunately for the rest of the UK it is only being offered in Scotland.

Curious- find the rest of his musings here.

RMNs

E at Mental Nurse talks about the top ten most evil things in the world…

1. (-) Cannabis
2. (2) Tobacco
3. (4) Debt consolidation ads featuring Carol Vorderman
= 5. (1) Richard and Judy
= 5. (3) The Nazis
6. (-) Heathrow Airport
7. (5) Prince Phillip
8. (7) Joseph Stalin
9. (-) Noel Edmonds
10. (10) The Devil and all his minions

Haha- brilliant. The rest of the blog (also brilliant) is here.

That’s it for this week! Don’t forget to email me potential new blogs, or just to make a comment to me (or big up a particular post from your blog you want featured!

miss.faith.walker@gmail.com

Toodles!

I’m on nights at the moment. I really do come unravelled when I have to do them- my common sense and brains seem to crumble under the strange hours. This set of nights was no exception- when I arrived on the train, after my dad gave me a lift (I was late- I guilt tripped him) I realised that I didn’t have my travelcard (the holder also contains my bank card, my travel receipts for expenses for placement, my student discount travel card etc etc). Arse.

I phoned home.

Mum agreed to look for me- it would be in one of 3 places.

1. Under the conservatory table from where I was packing my bag (most likely place).
2. On my bed.
3. In my Dads car.

“Ok, I’ll have a look”, says my Mum. By this point, I have scrabbled around for the last of my change in my pocket to get a ticket the remaining distance of my journey and arrived on the ward and had a hissy fit because I am so stupid and idiotic.

What makes this even more stupid, is that a friend of mine had said to me that very morning that as I have a habit of losing my travel card and bank card (or at least thinking that I’ve lost it!) that I should go and put it in my bag when I get home just to make sure that its there for when I leave… opps.

Mum text me (after handover) telling me it most definitely was not there and that I should commence the cancelling of my cards and quickly ordering a new discount travel card (they can take ages and I really can’t afford the travel without it because I am a poor and pathetic student nurse with no more than a couple of pennies to rub together)

That began the drama of trying to get through from the hospital phone system- the numbers I needed were “0845″, so I couldn’t just dial out. Arse. “Is it a work related call”. Oh piss off… It took my 3 attempts for get hold of barclays- they had a habit of cutting my off. The phone line for the cancelling and renewing of the discount card was even worse- it just rang and rang and rang, the bastards. I had to give up- a friend of mine ordered me a new card online (thankyou!) and I had to try and get back into work.

The following morning I managed to get through- after a massive (and ridiculous) thirty minutes on hold!

I then arrived home and dumped my bag in the conservatory…and there was my travel card- sitting there on the floor under the table…exactly where I said it would be.

Son of a….!

I was very brave today- I met Prince’s mum, and two sisters, got a henna design done on my hand- designed a t shirt and almost had my face painted.

That’s my hand, that is!

I was at the Festival of Chariots- which is the International Society of Krishna Consciousness biggest festival. I had a fabulous time! Basically, it is a very old festival (we’re talking thousands of years here) that originates in Jagannatha Puri on the east coast of India. Hare Krishna is chanted and Krishna is pulled along on a massive, and very colourful wooden chariot. There were three chariots, and they carried the deities of Jagannatha, Subhadra, and Balarama. I’m not sure which one this is…

One of the Chariots

Everyone was very friendly, nobody tried to convert me or preach to me (as such). I was given a lot of information and explanation as to what the festival is for- (a lot of that from Prince!) and the rest from other young people who were just eager to share the fundamentals of their religion with me. I was pleasantly surprised, as  all this was despite my friend and I’s awkward questions (well, mainly my friend) such as “So is that what “God” looks like is it?”. It was all peace and love, and was just well, very lovely.

Prince was so adament that I came today to learn a bit more about his culture, and I am very glad I did (and I got that wonderful hand design- which is now, sadly, not glittery anymore, but orangy brown- but still dead good!)

I hope I won’t get into trouble for it on placement? Any thoughts?

Its that time again- I apologise, because I am very tired today and about to pop off to meet Prince.

If you have a nomination for weekly handover, or want to nominate your own blog (or just ask me a question/moan etc etc) please email me on miss.faith.walker@gmail.com

ST/N’s

Orally Fixated Male Nurse is wondering about the charisma (of lack of) possessed by Junior doctors…

Is being wet, mild mannered, quiet and subservient like some evolutionary response to working under certain consultants? Does it make life easier, or does it make you more likely to be promoted or have good things said about you? I am not for one second criticising junior doctors, let it be known. ‘Wet’ is not a criticism and although I suppose a lack of charisma counts as one, it’s not meant as a barb. The ability to inspire confidence is certainly one learnt through experience, but it is also something some people are talented with just through their use of words. Naturally, almost.

Find the blog here.

Cellar Door is going through those moments of uncertainty we all go through when we wonder if we’re in the right area. Is mental health the right course?

But then I got thinking - what if I fall in love with another pathway during my alternative weeks? My sister has recently been accepted onto a child nursing course and I must admit, it’s got me thinking. Generally speaking I enjoy my job; there’s always something different and I love the bizarreness of human behaviour. But it can get tiring.

Follow the story over on not another nursing student blog.

HCA/NA/CSW’s

Baby Blue Pyjama’s is contemplating competency levels of the other HCAs on shift with him.

I was working with three other NAs, one who was a student in the department, now a trained nurse waiting for his pin, is more than competent, who was ratting with me. Another who spent all shift sitting on her bum in CDU, doing nothing. And the other an ED regular NA who should know what he is doing, but is in my opinion dangerously incompetent. He got himself assigned to Resus.

Read rant here.

RN’s

Life in the NHS has achieved fame, or at least ?fame.

 seriously doubt it, but the Guardian online has used part of my post on compassion in a round up of blogs as we approach the 60th Anniversary of the NHS. It is interesting, and this happens when I read papers I have written at work in the past as well as some of the academic essays I wrote for my masters, that sometimes you re-read a passage and feel pretty pleased with yourself.

Check the blog here at Life in the NHS.

Grumpy RN has been busy in the ED traige- do people really think we are that stupid?

If you attend and tell me you are breathless I don’t believe you - if you can tell me you are breathless your not!
Telling me you have been unable to stand on the ankle you hurt 2 days ago and have not taken painkillers for will not get you seen quickly, I was watching you walk towards my room.
If I ask you for your pain score - 0 to 10 and I say that 10 is the worst imaginable do not say it is a 12.

Read the whole post over at grumpy RN.

RMN’s

Beakie over at Mental Nurse does not like being told to smile.

Back in the 80s, there used to be a tunnel leading from one bit of King’s Cross to another bit of King’s Cross. I used to go through this tunnel on my way from the tube to a fabulous pub called The Bell, that is sadly no more. The remarkable thing about this tunnel was that it had an exhortation to smile plastered all over it, presumably totill be there for all I know, I haven’t been back for years  cheer up the commuters who, unlike me, were not off to get bladdered and listen to a chucklesome blend of 80s indie music and disco trash. It may snow.

Now, nothing irritates me more than being told to smile. I don’t like being told to smile by friends, and I certainly don’t like being dictated to by tunnels! However, for those of you working as nurses in the NHS, it may serve you well to remember that tunnel. In fact, perhaps you should have the word “smile” tattooed on your inner eyelids, just so you don’t forget. Why? Well, because the Dear Leader, Chairman Johnson has decided nurses should be rated on how smiley and nice they are.

I agree! Read the whole post at Mental Nurse.

That’s it for handover this week- see you next week!

If you find any fabulous nursing blogs- email them on!

I managed to do something quite stupid to myself on placement the other day.

It all started with me in one of my foul strops (when I realised I’d accidentally bought a train ticket that started before me previous one expired). So although feeling smug that I had arrived at work earlier than my mentor (who had jokingly told me I’d better be in work on time- as I’d been late this week) I was a bit miserable, tired and distracted.

I decided to start on bed duty, as it was something I could do with minimal damage to anyone- or anything (or so I thought).

After stripping the beds, I went to wheel the enormous, metal, bigger and wider than me sized linen trolley over to my bay. Big mistake. In my distracted state, I was trying to steer and simultaneously warn people to stay out of my way because I couldn’t see where I was going (its big!) I rolled it over my foot.

FUUUUUUCK!

I’ve also managed to gain the nickname of “Bum Queen”, I’ll let you guess why that is! I do however, believe that nickname is far more suited towards my mentor- and I told him. And offered him the tube of lubricant I’d had in my pocket as a present, as you can never be too prepared.

He coolly replied to me saying that he didn’t need it, he was lubricated enough.

Nice.