Random Tuesday Work Edition or The Day I Quit L&D

It started off innocently enough for a Monday.

I had a feeling, my least favorite charge nurse was in charge, but it was starting out as a good day.

I lingered. I had coffee. I helped a few nurses at their deliveries.

I relieved a nurse for lunch.

It was while doing this that I learned from said charge nurse that I would be getting what we call a IUFD.

Intrauterine Fetal Death.

Now, we have a saying in L&D that these come in threes. We had two last week, so I had been waiting for the last shoe to drop. And it was my turn.

Poor girl. 8 months along, homeless. Now, babyless.

Right around the time I got her settled and down to ultrasound, I decided( at 2 pm) that this was the perfect time for a lunch break.

And the bottom fell out of Labor and Delivery. There were 10 patients waiting either for admission or to be triaged all at once.

I got one, and while I wasn’t happy about it, I tried to understand.

You see, IUFD’s need to be one to one. You need to be able to devote emotional time and just TIME to this patient and her emotional needs. PLUS. These patients go notoriously fast. Once your body knows the baby is dead, it will usually work to get rid of it.

So anyway, I triaged a patient, helped with a few more deliveries  all the while trying to help out my fellow nurses who were drowning.

Then, crazy charge nurse says to me: watch patient Z. Now. Labor and Delivery is 2 to 1. Two patients to 1 nurse. You want me to have a IUFD who is supposed to be one to one. You want me to take care of this triage patient who is  having symptoms of preterm labor. You then want me to also take care of Patient Z who is having her 7th baby with crazy Dr E. Dr E is crazy, reckless, and always in a hurry.

When I balk at it, she states that the other nurse she wanted to take care of this patient refused. What, so I’m your punk, because you know I won’t?

BULLSHIT.

But I help out. Because that’s what I’m trained to do.

But OH NO, it doesn’t end there.

I discharge Ms Preterm labor after I fix her. I help in the delivery of patient Z with crazy Dr E because he was looking pitiful.

I go out to do some paper work and hear a scream from my IUFD’s room.  I rush in , fully expecting the baby to be in the bed, and instead find her Dr attempting to break her water.

WITHOUT ME.

The patient is climbing up the bed.  The patient is screaming. The Dr is yelling at her.  The Dr takes her hand out of the patient’s va jay jay and flings it in the air.

And dead baby coochie juice lands in my hair. I felt it PLOP on my scalp.

Can you say eww.

Can you say disgusted.

Can you say mortified.

Can you say all kinds of iCANT.

The Dr did apologize profusely, and I spent a good few minutes scrubbing my scalp down.

But the patient is now in pain, in labor. 5-6 centimeters. She needs help more than I need to scrub my scalp.

I rush out, trying to get organized and get her pain meds.  Trying not to show my revulsion to the poor patient. It’s not her fault.

But crazy charge nurse is fussing at me because I don’t have my phone on me to answer her call.

“it’s annoying when you don’t have your phone with you”

Heifer I’m annoyed that I have coochie juice in my hair, your point????

I.could. have.choked. her.

I spent the last hour of my shift trying to get her situated, and pain free.

And at 645( remember, I get off at 723), Crazy charge informs me I have another patient.

I swear, if looks could have killed……..

I refused.

I walked to my directors office.

The only reason I didn’t give my notice at that very moment was because she wasn’t there.

I started to send her an email, but cooler heads prevailed.

I’ll be waiting for her when she arrives in the morning.

Because folks, I am done.

I’m tired. I’m tired of not having the resources, the staff, the courtesy and the respect I deserve.

I’m tired of either having lunch 8 hours into my 12 hour shift or not at all.

I’m tired of not peeing for 12 hours.

I’m tired of coming home broke down.

I’m tired of policies that don’t care about me or my child.

I’m tired.

New job is still running my background check. I was going to wait until it was finished to give my resignation, but friends, I don’t give two fucks.

Excuse my language.

I’m done.

Finito

The end.