A Clueless moment

The other day I joined a couple of my coworkers for lunch. For some inexplicable reason, I asked one of the of the aides ( non-professional as per immigration standards) on which visa she came to the states. She explained that one of her family members petitioned for her. Then we talked about various visas, and I mentioned something about her and her home country of Ecuador. The conversation lasted a few more minutes and then lunch was over.

An hour or so later, I saw the aide again and all of a sudden it clicked. She was not from Ecuador but from El Salvador. Someone else in our lunch group was Ecuadorian. I pointed out my mistake to her and the Ecuadorian lady and asked why neither one of them corrected me. While they said that Ms Ecuador was smiling the whole time during lunch at my error, they didn't really explain why I wasn't corrected.

This incident reminded me a scene from Clueless where Cher told her housekeeper that she didn't speak Mexican. The housekeeper got upset and Cher's brother? had to remind her that the housekeeper is from Ecuador, not Mexico.

And though I found this incident amusing, I still ask myself - Why Didn't they correct me?

Why I like working in health care

Today during rounds one of the big cheeses with a nursing degree made two comments. I thought these comments were remarkable enough to relay them to the rest of the department and to post on this blog.
1-"This man keeps having problems with his eye. He should see an ENT- an eye specialist."
2-"We have a policy for visitors and staff with flu-like symptoms. Plus, I read that they have an antibiotic for it already."
'It's a virus,' commented self and another nurse.
"Yes, so they have the antibiotic for it."

Hope so do you enjoy these comments as much as my colleagues and I did. And maybe you can even appreciate why I love working in health care. (Imagine if the health care was socialized? The fun would never end!)

I'll be wearing my work clothes, part 2

The other day, a nurse supervisor who typically wears street clothes (and lab coats on special occasions like visits from Dep't of Health reps) came in dressed in all-white uniform.

The natural question begged itself. So I didn't hesitate to ask if this supervisor, like most of us, neglected to do his laundry on time.

The man was much more pragmatic than that. Apparently, he had to go to court later that day. And he learned the hard way that if he showed up in court wearing his uniform, there was a possibility he'd get a chance to mention that he is a nurse. A nice nurse serving the local community. It seemed to work in his favor before and he was counting on it to work again. He just looked very funny but apparently it was worth it.

And there I thought that showing up in uniform outside of workplace was in bad taste...

Results to follow.

I can run but can I hide?

On Friday instead of my customary grocery shopping during lunch, I go to the Village of Lawrence to shop for Purim. Luckily for me, there is a parking spot right in front of the store, so I turn on my blinker, pause a bit ( just in case the driver behind me didn't realize what the blinker was for), pull up to the car in front of the spot and that the stupid girl driving behind me is practically on my bumper.

I put my car in reverse, still hopeful that with a few maneuvers I'll get into the spot. But I hear the girl nervously signaling me...I roll down my window and gesture to her that I signaled, and paused, etc and there is a spot and all. Not sure if I point to my head in the process... But after gesticulating I look in the rear view mirror and realize that at this point, there are a few cars behind the girl. In the Village of Lawrence, unlike the Town of Brooklyn, they have parking lots behind the stores (a nuisance with muni meters and all but still better than no parking), so I give up my pursuit of a convenient spot and move on.

Within a minute, I get two text messages, almost simultaneously. I have an uneasy feeling that someone spotted me. The first message says " Was it you?" and then the second one, unnecessarily clarifies " on Central Avenue".

Why, from all my trips to the village, should it be a Brooklyn moment during which I get spotted by one of my dear friends? Bashert, I'm sure...

PS When I asked my friend why she didn't honk hello, she just replied " and miss the entertainment?" I guess life in the village is a bit slow.

Grandpa Lenin

February is a black history month. And on February 2, the bulletin board of the mail lobby of my work announced this fact in Bold Black Letters with some obscenely (African themed?)colored trim, and the picture of our president in the middle.

Though similar displays appear on this bulletin board every year but this year it seemed strangely disturbing and borderline offensive. I attributed this uneasy feeling to possible lack of caffeine early in the AM and went on with my business.

Around lunch time, I noticed someone standing by the bulletin board, perplexed. To make a long story short, she told me that the bulletin board reminds her of the communists countries where the leaders picture was prominently displayed everywhere.

Bingo! That's what it was- the big red bulletin board with only one picture in the center (the shot above was taken a week later and even then, there was only one non-Obama picture on the whole board). It reminded me of my childhood with pictures, statues, busts, pins, and such of 'grandpa' Lenin in every public place.

Is this what this country coming to?

The unhealthy state of mental health institutions

Recently, Kings County Hospital's G (mental health) building made it to the papers because last year a patient died in the ER under guards' supervision and nobody gave much of a darn about it. One of the sad lessons- people in health care don't really care much about the sick ; they care even less for the mentally ill.

On my current assignment more than 50% of the residents have a psychiatric diagnosis. Many lead decent institutional lives and they are symptoms are controlled for months and even years.
Some become victims of the heavily regulated nursing home system. An in-house doctor, internist, decides that a patient is on too many psychotropic drugs and decided to reduce/discontinue some of them. The results are usually pretty quick. The resident starts seeing things, hearing things, think things, say things, or just act crazy. They a psychiatrist is called in to start the whole medication-adjustment process all over again.

In some instances, residents decompensate so quickly that they have to be admitted to a psych hospital. (Psych hospitals deserve a few entries of their own) And that's the reason for this post...
Here's a 'case study':
Time was admitted to a nursing home after 7 weeks of psych hospitalization for some 'unruly' behavior. When I first came to see him, he was a scary crazy man- talked to himself non-stop, looked through you if you addressed him, inconsistently followed basic conversation, the works.
After staying in the nursing home for less then 2 weeks he was hospitalized for some unacceptable behavior.

Tim was readmitted to the nursing home a 3 weeks later. He was almost unrecognizable- he looked physically healthy. His conversations not only became coherent but also very intelligent and pleasant. Tim was a new man, but sadly, not for long. After a month or so, his conversations became less coherent, he became more preoccupied and frequently inappropriate. Two weeks after the reappearance of his symptoms he was back in a psych hospital.

That hospitalization lasted a bit over a month. But based on the hospital paper work, they weren't treating his symptoms but rather 'managing' them. In hospital he received medication for agitation which was frequently given to him via injection ( to kick in faster). After weeks of such ' management' ( my guess is-hospital was hungry for some of Tim's insurance $), Tim was ready to come back to the nursing home.

Tim was readmitted early in the afternoon. I saw him in the lobby and welcomed him back. He thanked me. But as kept walking, he told me that I have a nice body " and a sharp mind" he added quickly. I told Tim he was inappropriate. He apologized but I wondered what exactly did they do for Tim in the hospital?

Half hour later I heard very loud screams and cursing in the lobby. It happens quite frequently, so I ignored the screams at first. My coworker said it was one of the residents who was upset about the new smoking hours. But the screaming continued on and off for 5 minutes. I decided to check out the situation for myself.

There were 2 EMS guys standing in the middle of a hallway. Near a wall, 2 female cops were trying to handcuff someone. That someone was Tim. He had a somewhat surprised look on his face, trying to tell something to the cops. EMTs looked sympathetic and even a bit embarrassed. The cops were just doing their job. And I felt physically sick.

It took a few minutes after Tim was handcuffed and put in a chair for the paperwork to be filled out. And then Tim was led away into the freezing cold in just a tshirt, back to the same hospital which didn't do much for Tim. Yet Tim had to pay for the incompetence of the doctors by being subdued, handcuffed, and humiliated, and be sent there for more 'management of his symptoms'.

RoadKill

It was an ordinary Thursday. My colleagues and I were driving back to work from lunch. There were two pigeons on the road, doing their bird things. My colleague slowed down. One of the pigeons flew away at the last second. And then we heard a thud. And in the rear view mirror, I saw a bunch of feathers on the road.

'You Killed a pigeon', I told the driver. And though he denied it at first, he saw the evidence, too. And for the next 7 minutes, he kept repeating that he couldn't believe that he killed a pigeon. I tried to comfort him saying that pigeons are lazy and stupid and statistically they become most frequent bird roadkill. My other coworker altogether said that the pigeon was sick, didn't want to live ( hence didn't fly away in time), and it was meant to be.

The dead pigeon was the talk of the gym when we returned. Everyone had a story to tell of how they try not to kill an animal/bird on the road...how they witnessed animal to animal violence...where one can find the most roadkill in the 5 boroughs, etc.

Overall, it was an unpleasant experience and I'm glad it a-didn't happen on the way to lunch, as I'm sure 66% of the party would've lost their appetite; b- there were no kids around who witnessed this event; c-for the reminder that pigeons have a dulled sense of self preservation.

Wishing all the drivers safe and pleasant commute.

Lateral Epicondylitis

Thanks to encouragement from friends and family I'm writing about work, again.
There is a new nurse supervisor in the building. She seems quite benign. She had a bit of a problem reading my handwriting (she isn't the first and definitely not the last) and then comprehending the content but she's new and may not be familiar with the procedures followed in this facility.

Then, my lateral epicondylitis aka tennis elbow started acting up again. By midday I couldn't write anymore without feeling acute pain so I decided to ice my forearm a bit to get some relief.

Since this facility is run on a tight budget (read: no ice packs in the gym) I went to staff cafeteria to get some ice, put it into a disposable glove, and thus ice my forearm. I was about to start putting ice into the glove when I saw the new supervisor coming up with a cup. I told her to go ahead since I'd take a while. She looked at me and said 'You're going to eat your ice from a glove?!"
I smiled at her joke but she continued, wincing a bit "You know, the ice isn't going to taste so good from that glove". Then she turned around and went on to eat her lunch.
And as I poured the ice into my glove I wondered 1- how many years was this woman fooling the system/has shebeen falling through the cracks all this time? 2- poor poor residents whose care she'll be supervising...

Two short stories

Yesterday, there was an announcement over the loudspeaker for all the residents who choose to vote to come to the main dining room at a certain hour. In response to this announcement one of my unbiased assistant-turned-politician yelled out "Any resident who'll vote for McCain will be discharged from this facility!" I asked if he is discharging them to his house but he didn't seem to think that my joke was as funny as his. He is one of many who preach (exclusive) freedom of expression and racial equality (and hinting that anyone outside of his race is somewhat inferior).

I drove to a Jewish neighborhood to buy me some pizza for lunch. The place is a bit overpriced but I was hungry and my choices were limited. As I was waiting for my pizza and old lady ordered a cup of soup. When a small $3 cup of soup was brought to her she asked what comes with it. The worker asked the owner can she get something with her soup, i.e. pita or crackers and the owner said " give her a spoon". The lady asked for something to go with soup again, and again he offered to give her a spoon. I know the economy is shvach and the times are tough but did he really need to be so RUDE?

No, I'm just fat

This week 4 people asked me when my baby is due. 3 of them were apologetic when I told them my usual 'I'm not pregnant, just fat' line.
I also stopped asking how come guys with a belly aren't even called fat 1/2 the time. "Husky" is the word that's used to describe them and when one hears husky one thinks of cuddly doggies not globs of fat concentrated in one area.
And by the way, I'm not even fat. I just have imperfect posture and a good appetite. And on that note, I'm going to enjoy my sandwich...

Silver lining

Yesterday I started a new assignment. It was definitely bittersweet. I was very delighted at the flexibility- I took Eh to her 'school' the first day and then went to work. But this facility is a bit gray and mediocre in comparison to the previous one. The patient population is different as well-one I prefer not to work with.

So today, after took my daughter to school, I had a bit of a better mood coming to work. And then I saw the other silver lining- the blogger is not blocked on these computers! What more can I say?

How to deal with rejection

A long long time ago, there was a joke making its rounds via the email where a guy politely declined to be laid off.

Don't know if my boss read this joke or not but today when I gave notice he told me he'll call me back and tell me where my new assignment is going to be.

Miscommunication or a great way to deal with rejection? I guess I'll have to wait and see.

Poor Aim

I work in the department which is blessed with mostly male therapists. It's a rare luxury because typically you have a bunch of women with a couple of token men who are periodically asked to stand up or 'transfer' a heavy patient.

But this luxury isn't free. For the past month ( at least), I've noticed that our gym's bathroom's stunk of urine. The urine not only splattered pretty much all of the toilet seat but accumulated in messy puddles next to the toilet. I know that the detail may be excessive for some but I'm providing it to draw a more or less vivid picture of the event. Now, this is not the one and only toilet your truly can use but non the less, the situation was becoming more and more annoying.

So last week I decided to post a sign.

When I picked up the sign from the printer I tested it on a couple of people sitting at the nurse's station (just in case). They laughed. And asked why do I need the sign. After a brief explanation they seemed skeeved .

So, I posted the sign. I thought it was short and to the point.

Well, whatever point it was, it was lost on the shooter. There were absolutely no comments in the gym after the appearance of the sign. But sadly, there was no reduction in puddles either.

I even thought that maybe the location of the sign is wrong but the only better place would be to actually place it ON the toilet. Sadly it seems that the boy with the poor aim is also the one with poor attention to detail.

Maybe I should make the sign yellow for emphasis?

PS. Yesterday, when I was telling the story to one of my friends I suddenly deduced that the clumsy one among us is most probably my assistant.

I'll stop here. Peace

Uninhibited

Every so often I let my inhibitions go and tell people pretty much exactly what I think about them. It usually happens when I'm very tired which makes me moody which in turn makes me uninhibited.

For over a year now I work in a facility which has 14 ( fourteen) vice presidents, too numeous to count assistants to vice presidents ( aka managers), heck knows how many supervisors, etc.

Possibly because of this culture of glorification of status (a concept not exclusive to this facility but definitely embrased by it) this facility employs a lot of snobs who seldom respond to a greeting let alone initiate one, are not helpful to a fellow employee ( esp if s/he's a newby), refuse to share charts/desk space, and are otherwise mildly unpleasant.

After more than 1/2 year of employment I earned the honor of a returned greeting. I still happen to think it was only due to my perseverance and treating the situation as an amusing research. None the less I never know when any of now-friendly-collegues would set me up or stab me in the back while looking me in the eyes. Still, it doesn't usually bother me. As a consultant who has to come to a facility and 'fix' things I'm pretty used to people resenting, disliking, or trying to ignore me. The duration of those feelings or my assignment by this point in my life became pretty irrelevant.

Unless, I'm in a bad mood. Then those feelings are still irrelevant but I let the masses know that I'm aware of the situation.

So today, when I came into one of the conference rooms to get some coffee ( the cafeteria was already closed), I greeted the 6 people sitting there. No attention was paid to me. I poured myself some coffee and instead of just going on with my business I told the woman sitting closest to me that it seems that people only greet me when they need something. She looked at me and tried to politely dismiss my observation though I saw in her eyes a bit of discomfort. I just shrugged my shoulders and left.

A few minutes later when I came back to the conference room to retrieve a chart one of the nurses addressed me with " I have a question'. But instead of just answering her question I felt I was on a roll and told her that I just mentioned to Prem (sitting right there) that people only seem to greet me when they need something. The nurse blushes a bit. The dietician behind her raises her eyebrows all the way up to her hairline. Another nurse didn't seem to care one way or another. And the social worker ignored the whole thing: I guess no one was being discharged home from her unit this week.

A couple of hours later, when I was more awake and contend I wondered if it was necessary to shock the 'team' on that unit. I verbalized something they all knew but somehow verbalizing it during a meeting seems equivalent to cursing, saying something forbidden and obscene.

And now, when I finished typing this up and realized that it's alreayd 11:30P and I don't even remember the reason I decided to post this ( aka the moral of the story), I beging to wonder if I should sleep rather than blog.

Only time shall tell:)

Ehem or 2 stories about my observation skills

First story:

My current assignment is in a 540 bed facility which means I get to work with many coworkers of various disciplines. On the days when I'm lucky and I get to stay after the chance of shift I have the honor to work with many more peoples whose names and particulars I try to remember, just to be polite.

One of the people from the evening shift is nurse Dorothy. She's a sweet young large woman who's usually polite and helpful. And I had no problems remembering her name it is also the name of Elmo's fish. But, I digress...

On Monday, I lingered til the evening shift took over ( which since the change in my babysitting guard occured has been happening more often than not) and there I was again sitting at a nurse's station together with Dorothy. On the left of the station was one of slightly annoying chatty recreation workers ( who deserves an entry of her own). This time she was doing her 1:1 with one of the residents and chatting with Dorothy. She asked Dorothy some question to which she replied something like 'september", ' very soon'. To brighten up the end of my working day I decided to join the conversation ( though joining in usually means completing my work in 1.3-1.5 usual time and it cramps my style). So I asked Dorothy to repeat what's going to happen in September. She just said "my baby" and for the second time in a month I felt that I could've been knocked down with an 'F'.

I looked at Dorothy with eyes so wide she started laughing. She said sweetly that she knew she's a big girl but she thought that her situation was apparent by now and proceeded to comfort me by saying that her brothers only found out the day before and only because her sister told them.
And while I congratulated her and apologized for my delayed response the blessed rec worker continued with her preachy voice to say something about 'the baby'. AGGGGGR. But then again, she askes me about my babies, too so I have to take the bad with the good.

And as I left the station I glanced at Dorothy again and darn it ( though she WAS sitting), she just looked her usual chubby self.

Second story:
Yesterday early in the AM, as I was on my way to work I got a text from one of my lost friends that she had a baby girl. I was delighted on many levels and exchanged texts with her for an hour or so. Btw, this is her 3rd girl, b'H.

Another one of my friends had his 3rd boy last week. Naturally, while I was sitting in the morning report (where people take themselves so seriously it's hard to stay awake), I decided to text the 3rd boy friend and inform him of the recent good news (these 2 know/knew of each other). And the easiest way to do it was to reply to one of his text with "so and so just had her 3rd girl'.

Naturally I was taken aback when the new again mom sent me a message saying that she is in a girl business. It took a few seconds to realize to whose text I replied with the good news and thank Gd that my text was short, sweet, and to the point.

WHERE DID MY OBSERVATION SKILLS GO? Should I hope they will return or should I start getting used to the new me!?

Jerusalem today

On my way to work today, I heard that there was a terrorist act in Jerusalem. I said a little prayer for the dead and the wounded, got angry that the terrorist was counted with the dead, and quickly forgot about it (since I came to work very late and had lots of catching up to do).

Then, thanks to all the TVs that beg me to watch them on every unit, while I was on my way to do some routine assessment, I saw some Israeli guy talking on Fox news and I realized it was about earlier events in Jerusalem. He described the event in all its brutal detail -where the terrorist galantly let a female driver go ahead of him only to plow her seconds later, that one of the dead was a woman who managed to throw her infant out of the car before she was crushed. He appealed to the people of the world to try to imagine what the Israelis have to live through every day- that this attack is equivalent of a madman plowing through crowds on 5th Avenue, or on champs elysees...while the footage of the Israeli soldier shotting the terrorist was displayed in the background.

I felt tears welling in my eyes. I had a hard time concentrating on my work for the next few minutes. The general public (to whom the Israeli on TV appealed) around me seemed to be going about their business as usual. One kind man asked me if I was ok but when I explained what happened, he for some reason couldn't find words of comfort for me.

שהם give peace to Israel and ישוע to the the whole klal.

Are you for real?

A few weeks ago following the purchase of my wig, I started wearing it to work. It produced a decent amount of surprise, delight, double takes, compliments, etc.
But after a while people pretty much got used to my new look. Until today, when I had a bizarre encounter with a unit clerk who was standing in front of me in line for omelets.

After customary morning greetings this middle aged lady stretched her hand and tugged at my hair. Now, mind you, I didn't keep it a secret from anyone that the 'miracle gro' that I used was actually called USD aka my newly grown glamour was a wig ( bought with my hard earned $:))
Hence the tugging came as a big of a shock for me- considering the setting, the act itself, and the delayed response of the clerk at my beautiful new do.

I tried to tell her quietly and politely that she should cut out the tugging. That my hair is a wig.
Yet, as if this she saw me and my hair for the first time, she tugged on it 2 more times, saying quite loudly that she doesn't believe it, " it looks so real!", etc.

At this point, realizing that this was neither the time nor the place to be polite, I told her to get away from me, and tried to make some sort of excuse for her behavior to the people around me.

I felt a bit scandalized for about an hour but then I put the things into perspective and thanked Gd that my wig withstood the test of coworkers.

Banana for the baby

I started my current assignment when I was about 4 months pregnant. As my stomach got bigger and bigger I got all obligatory attention from strangers, coworkers, and strange coworkers.
The benefits for big belly included an almost definite pass to a seat @ any nurses station ( though I must say, the shnucky PA students frequently pretended not to see and often I was too proud to ask), lost of advice on what to do and not to do, and bananas 'for the baby' from residents whose only way of showing attention and appreciation was to save their dessert (banana) and later give it to the recepient of the appreciation award.
Initially, (when my belly looked like that of someone who likes to eat ) I noticed a banana on desks of 2 of my coworkers (left over from the previous regime). And though there are bananas on sale in the cafeteria (50c each), I was told that those bananas were given to them by appreciative patients.
A bit envious of the attention and the 50c savings, I acted like an adult and either brought a fruit from home or just bought something from the cafeteria.
But, in less than 2 months, I got my first banana! And I was told 'it's for the baby' so I didn't even pretend to protest, graciously accepted the gift, and ate it.
Then, as my belly grew I started getting 2-3 bananas per day. And when I'd politely decline and say that I already had a banana, I'd be told " It's not for you, it's for the baby!'. And how can I refuse that kind of bananas!?
I diligently shared my bananas with all the coworkers who wanted them. Yet, there wasn't a day when I wouldn't eat a banana or two. If popularity in my gym was measured in bananas, I would be the undefeated reigning queen with no close competitors!
My baby is, thank God, almost 7 months. My fan club slowly dwindled. One resident was transfered to another facility, one went home, a few noticed that I obviously don't have such a huge belly anymore. One resident switched from bananas to milk and I kind of like the variety. However, if you'd see my desk today, you'd notice 7 bananas on it. And it's not that I'm hoarding them. I just have one die-hard friend who brings me up to 3 bananas per day (all but one banana coworkers have moved on). When I tell her that she doesn't really have to do that since I already gave birht to the baby, she insists saying " You're feeding him, right? Then eat the banana!"
I'm concidering opening a fruit stand with competitive pricing of 25c per banana ( when I overcome my fear of being accused of stealing bananas from the elderly).

Allergic reactions

Last week Subwife http://subjugatedwife.blogspot.com/ was lamenting the state of US education (to summarize very succinctly her Dec 6th entry). Personally, I think this whole education vs general knowledge thing is overrated.
To get to the point...Yesterday, I was on one of the units, writing some evaluations and socializing with friendly social worker and dietitian. A few general topics were covered, including menu of the week, menus of holiday parties for residents, demented residents, and weird family members, nourishments, etc
Then the dietitian said, "Forget about hash browns that are served as latkas. The other day, one of kitchen supervisors mentioned that he isn't sure if he can serve an eggplant to a certain resident because he ( the supervisor) doesn't know if the resident is allergic to eggs!"
All one can do is wonder if this allergy dilemma would make Sherri Shepherd itch?