Monday, December 14, 2009

fate is making all the decisions

After returning from Nepal, I found it very difficult to care for our patient population. Grown-ups who whine and complain about the amount of ice in their cups, the hardness (or softness) of the beds, the kind of foods on their plates, the medicine that's saving their lives is constipating them, the pain from surgery is too much... etc etc. I found myself wishing more and more for intubated, ventilated, sedated patients. I look at these people and think, you came to us for medical help. YOUR choice to have the procedure, to come to this facility. It's not the Hilton. We're not here to make sure you eat delicious food and sleep comfortable and undisturbed. We are going to poke you and prod you and wake you up every hour, we're going to serve mediocre food, the beds might not be top-notch in comfortability, but they do flatten in 3 seconds so we can do CPR and save your ass.

So I applied to every job I could in the hospital, and still haven't heard from anyone. No one. Nada. I guess it's not meant to be, but surely I'm not meant to play waitress for the rest of my life?

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