I know you know that our patient was on isolation, because it’s very hard to miss: 1) the big red “ISOLATION” sign on his door, 2) the big cart outside of his room containing gowns, gloves, and masks, and 3) me, standing at the patient’s bedside wearing said garb. So when you come in ungowned and unmasked and I say, “Um, you do know that this patient is in isolation?” the correct response is not to hold up your gloved hands and say, “It’s okay; I’m gloved up.”

When told that this patient requires more personal protection equipment than gloves, the other correct answer is not, “I don’t have time to bother with that shit. I’m not touching him anyway.” Do you want to know how I know that this answer is incorrect? Because when you were bending over ever-so-slightly to listen to the patient’s chest using your own stethoscope instead of the dedicated isolation stethoscope, the front of your shirt poofed out just a little, and just enough to brush the side rail. The side rail that has been touched by many many gloved hands probably containing all kinds of millions of organisms that are, you know, resistant to more than quite a few antibiotics.

And the “I don’t have time to bother with that shit” comment? I did point out to you that I have to put on the gown, gloves, and mask every time I walk into the room, which was easily 1-2 times an hour, sometimes more often. For 8 hours. So you do not have to tell ME about what a pain it is to bother with it. I am well aware.

You did get one thing right. As you walked out of the room, you very correctly used the alcohol hand gel… and when I told you that the one of the organisms that the patient has does not respond to alcohol gel and that you need to also wash your hands, your snotty reply of “I know that, Geena” was a little unexpected. If you don’t even know enough to use proper isolation technique, how am I to know that you know anything else about it?

And finally, when I remind you to clean your stethoscope, your answer of, “I already did that” is not fooling me at all, because I have been watching you closely out of the corner of my eye and I know full well that not only did you not clean your stethoscope, you handled it after washing your hands, thereby contaminating yourself again. Well, it was going to happen regardless. I wish it hadn’t happened before you started putting your grubby hands all over the chart, though.

And although the pen that was sitting on the counter right next to you was my favorite pen, I threw it away after you were done “borrowing” it.

Right before I called the epidemiology nurse and told her alllll about you.

She loves you, yeah yeah yeah – enough to bring the Beatles to Grand Rounds, hosted at Emergiblog! As usual, I’m a day late and a dollar short for the link, and as usual, Kim has done a fabulous job hosting.

There’s a post I wanted to bring your attention to, because it is the funniest story I have read in a very long time. There’s screaming, pain, and the payoff of a special 8 pound delivery… Disappearing John brings you the tale of a delivery that he was fortunate enough to be involved in. Funny funny funny stuff!

Change of Shift is up at PixelRN! Lots of great entries there, complete with cute icons. Great job, Beth!

Awhile ago, I read a post from The Angry Pharmacist about Wal*M*art’s $4 prescriptions. I really felt for his point of view – after all, isn’t W-Mart responsible for putting zillions of mom-and-pop stores out of business? And over the years I’ve heard about them skimping on their employee’s health insurance. I’ve always had the impression that W-Mart is pretty much squashing “the little guy” out there with its giant yellow smiley-faced foot.

Of course I’d heard about their $4 antibiotics. Is that what they started with? Just antibiotics? I was unaware that they’ve expanded their $4 drug list considerably until this weekend.

My patient was in the hospital for heart failure. We got him all tuned up, the docs tweaked his meds a little, and I was all set to discharge him. While talking to the doctor at the desk, I learned that the reason the patient had landed in the hospital with heart failure was because he was noncompliant with his medications.

I stopped caring about patients complying with their treatments a long time ago. Well, maybe it isn’t that I don’t care. Maybe it’s because I’ve never really seen anyone “shape up.” I’ve educated patients over and over and over again about the importance of taking their meds only to have them bounce back a month or two later due to their noncompliance. People are human – the best you can do is educate. What they do with that education is up to them. You can lead the horse to water and all that.

Anyway, the doctor wrote seven prescriptions for the patient to have filled. He had already been taking some of the medications, but many others were new. After I went through each prescription, explaining what the medication was for, I put them on top of his discharge papers and went about unhooking him from the monitor, etc. He’d been plenty chatty all morning, but he was suddenly very quiet.

He picked up the seven scripts and then put them down again. He said he didn’t know how he was going to be able to pay for all of them. He said his insurance did not cover prescription drugs. I didn’t ask him, but I wondered if that’s the reason why he was noncompliant.

I left his room and asked another nurse if she thought that one of the social workers could provide him with some resources to help him with this problem. She said she didn’t know if they could or not, but why didn’t he just go to W-Mart and get them filled there? I said I thought that it was just for antibiotics, to which she replied, “Um, no.”

So I went to the internet, hopped on W-Mart’s website and printed out the list of medications that are $4. I went through and highlighted every. single. medication. that he was prescribed. All 7 were on the list. I took the list in to him and his daughter and suggested that maybe they try W-Mart for their meds. They looked at me with deer-in-the-headlight eyes. I told them that I found every med on the list, and that barring any restrictions (some meds are priced higher in CA due to state laws, apparently), he’d only have to pay $4 for each drug.

They just stood there looking at me incredulously. I was starting to feel a little weird until they turned to each other and smiled. My patient asked if he had to sign up for something, or have a specific insurance, and I told him that I didn’t think so from what I read on the website.

The relief in the room was palpable. Then they started calling me an angel from heaven and all that, so I had to admit that it wasn’t my idea :)

Just for kicks, I looked up how much each medication would have cost otherwise. I admit that I have no idea if what I was looking at was at all comparable to what they cost off-line, but by using W-Mart he’d save well over $100 per month. I would imagine that that’s a substantial amount of money for someone on a fixed income.

I’m not naive enough to think that money was the only factor in my patient’s non-compliance. But I do know that he was perfectly happy taking the medications I gave him. He even inquired as to what each one was and what it was for, which is something I cannot say for the vast majority of my patients. The ones who are conscious anyway. So although I am not naive to reality, I am hopeful that his noncompliance was due to economic reasons and not apathy.

Before I sent him home, I walked with him and his daughter around the unit to see how he tolerated activity. When we returned to his room, his daughter remarked that he seemed to be walking faster than he had in a long time. He agreed and added that he didn’t feel out of breath, either. Here’s to hoping he stays that way for a long time.

I’m not sure what to think about this $4 per drug business. It obviously puts independent and other chain pharmacies at a distinct disadvantage. I am sympathetic to their situation, but it’s hard not to feel good about someone’s father, brother, uncle feeling better because the drugs they need are affordable for them. Thinking long-term, his compliance will also keep him out of the hospital, thus saving even more money and leaving healthcare resources available for the 90+ year old demented bedridden urosepsis patients that populate our unit. I wonder if W-Mart has a fix for that.

Oops, guess I let a bit of sarcasm slip out.

My last post referred to making new buttons for some blogs that I noticed that had gotten facelifts. Makeovers. New ‘do’s. However you want to say it.

One of those blogs belongs to PixelRN. A web designer in her previous life, she did a great job redesigning her blog. She explains how she did it in this post. She should put out a shingle, maybe redesign the sites for a few other bloggers, don’t you think? (hint/wink/hint) :)

Another post she did was about RSS feeds, and it is also very well done. If you are a blogger, you really really really need to know about RSS. For me personally, it doesn’t matter how good your blog is… If I can’t subscribe to your blog to read in Google Reader, I’m probably not going to read it. There’s another side to that. You can choose how much of your post shows up in a reader. Some bloggers make their entire posts available to be read, and some only allow a few sentences to show, thereby requiring the reader to click on “read more of this post” in order to read the rest of it. This also drives me nuts. I realize that we all like to have our stat counts be nice and high, but I almost never click through unless the first few sentences really grab my attention. That is not always easy to do!

(Addendum: Although Rebirth only provides partial feeds in Google Reader, I always faithfully click and read her entire posts. Because she rocks. And I don’t want her to stop blogging, as she has recently threatened to do.)

I’ve updated the sidebar links again. My loooovely husband got me my Image Manipulation Program of Choice for Christmas and it’s been so very nice playing around with it again. I’ve added some blogs, deleted some, and in checking to make sure the links work, I’ve noticed that some of your blogs underwent a makeover. So if the mood struck, I went ahead and redesigned your button.

As always, if you don’t like your button please feel free to make one of your own and I’ll replace it. You need to stick it in a .jpg file that’s 90 pixels x 25 pixels. Yeah, it’s small.

Here’s a story submission from “traumanurse,” and she sent it almost an entire year ago:

I am a fun-loving person. I work in a Level One trauma unit. We have a lot of fun as all the RN’s and MD’s are great people and we make a great team. This helps a lot with all the drama in trauma.

We have a few resus’ every week. And these are fine – training and adrenalin take over and we actually manage to maintain a sense of humor before, during and after- but it’s going home that gets me.

How do I explain to my small children that I am not a mommy right the moment I get home? That I need a couple of minutes to myself just to become a mommy again? I am the highly professional person that has just witnessed the life seep away from someone’s husband, father, child, and now I have to be the referee in the fighting, dish up equal portions and put Barbie’s shoes on- so they stop slipping off. I think is the main reason I prefer night shift is because you get home when everyone is asleep – so I can do mindless things like water the garden or feed the cats – or just sit and stare into space.

To explain to a non-medical person what it’s like is very difficult. In a resus- it is not a human being. It is not someone’s dad. It is an airway, a chest, a blip on the ECG; a vein to put a drip up. A pupil that may or may not react to light. These are the patients that you leave behind when you go home – nonsensical and they don’t haunt your dreams. It’s the ones that grab your hand, that make you look at them, that make you SEE them, who make it difficult. How do you explain this to your five year old? That fine line between life and death. That fight to keep someone from going to the “light.” There is no light in the trauma unit/ICU – there is only the adrenaline taking over – the clear instructions, there is no pain – no emotion – until it’s over. Until someone said those words: “time of death”.

How do I explain this?

——————————–

I’ve sometimes found it very difficult to come home and act as though something emotionally earth shattering hadn’t just happened. Sometimes it’s hard to get back to “life” because whatever has your brain scrambled won’t leave your thoughts. Sometimes I’ve found that it’s because it doesn’t feel right to go back to normal life. After witnessing and being a part of a profound moment in someone’s life, it feels like you literally have to take some time and process it and honor it in a way before you can get back to your normal life.

I usually take the drive home as an opportunity to absorb events that happen at work. Sometimes it takes me a lot longer – days, even. There are some situations at work that still haunt me years later. I have a feeling it’s like that for almost everyone.