Volume 5

Time had passed and everything started feeling like it made sense. I really could be a nurse, I thought. People were a bit friendlier, but the nurse ratchet was still a bitty. I tried to use charm, humor and even wit to impress her or more appropriately, just get her off my back! Nothing that I did seemed to help. She was just a sourpuss.

She taught me some things, though. She was a master of assessment. She could perform a head-to-toe assessment on someone and not miss a thing. Feet with edema, rashes, and anything else you could think of she could find and explain. She was not a nice person and liked to be mean, but she was good.

So, I sucked it up and learned. I took the punishment. It did toughen me up some. In a way that is what she thought I needed. Who was I to question her method? She had been a nurse for over thirty years, and she had the ear of the doctors. But there was something that I could not shake though. I was alert every time I was around her. The little buzzer in my conscious was buzzing.

The job went on and there were people to take care of. I was about to learn another nursing lesson. One morning I went into a resident’s room. There laid a ninety-three-year-old great grandmother of four beautiful children. At least that is what she always said when I walked in. She was spunky and she loved to brag on them. That is what caught my attention. She was none of that this Saturday morning.

I walked in and made a comment about when she had last seen her family. Usually, I spent five minutes listening about their lives when I asked. Not this morning. She was hard to arouse. Her being a diabetic, I immediately rushed out and got the equipment to check her blood sugar. Not surprising it was forty-eight. Pretty low. This was more than likely the culprit.

Taking what nurse ratchet taught me though I continued with an assessment. Nothing was wrong outside the blood sugar issue. Except for one small detail. The corner of her left lip was drooping. I went and retrieved a dose of emergency glucagon and gave her the shot. That would raise her blood sugar quickly. After fifteen minutes I rechecked her sugar. It was now ninety-eight. The shot had worked, and her sugar was within normal limits.

The only problem was her lips were still drooping, and she was still not responding right. There was no question in my mind she had been suffering from stroke-like symptoms. I called in the R.N. supervisor. I needed a second opinion. She, unlike nurse ratchet, was not thorough. She walked in and looked at the lady. She looked at me and said she was fine. Fine?

I pointed out all that I noticed, and the supervisor looked at me. “She is ninety-three what more do you expect?” She asked snottily.

“I would expect someone to be more interested in my health if it were me!” I blurted out before I knew it. This was no boding well for me. I had to deal with nurse ratchet and now I had made the supervisor mad. Oh boy!

“I tell you what. Call the on-call doctor. Oh yes, he is on duty at the E.R. so he will be the one treating her. Let us just see what he says.” She responded with a smirk on her face.

Now there is some behind the scenes information. The one call doctor was not the nicest person you would meet. In fact, he loved to talk down and nasty to nursing home nurses. So, to call him I had better be sure. Was I sure?

Despite my doubts and after rechecking the vital signs and assessing her again, I decided to call him.

“This is doctor X.” He answered. (Name left out for obvious reasons).

I went through and told him everything. I was sweating it out waiting for his response. It was not disappointing.

“You mean to tell me you have a ninety-three-year-old diabetic patient. She is not responding appropriately, and you think her lips are drooping. Why are you calling me? I do not need someone to waste my time. Check her blood sugar again if it is good so is she. Goodbye!” Yes. He was talking very angrily and loudly as he spoke.

I walked back down and rechecked her blood sugar. It was still ninety-eight. But her lip drooping was more pronounced. She was babbling when she tried to talk. What should I do? Should I buck the R.N. and the doctor? What if this woman was stroking out? Choices, choices.

Before I left the room I had made my mind up. I was doing the right thing for this woman. I was going to make the call for the ambulance to take her to the emergency room. I was going to pay a huge price if I were wrong, but it was one I was willing to pay. I knew I was right. So, I did. I called and they came and took her away. I went on with my duties and finished the medication pass.

About an hour later while in a resident room, I heard the R.N supervisor page me on the overhead speaker. “Chris, you have a call from doctor X. Chris, doctor X is calling for you!!!” She was screaming. Oh boy!

I made my way to the nurses’ station and watched as the smirk was widening on her face. “He does not sound happy!” She stated with some satisfaction.

“Hello, this is Chris. How can I help you?” I answered. I looked and the R.N. had walked over and taken a seat across from me as if she were waiting to hear my butt chewing.

“This is doctor X. I told you I was busy, but I wanted you to know you were right. The lady you sent over was having an active stroke and due to your actions, we were able to give her the medicine she needs to dissolve the clot. I wanted to tell you that and to say excellent work.” The phone went silent and then the dial tone sounded. I smiled and the R.N. walked away with her tail between her legs.

The lesson I learned on this one was trust your skills and follow your gut. If it helps someone to go against other opinions, then take the risk. People forget how precious life is sometimes. And due to the decision made that day, there were years of life left for this woman to enjoy her great grandchildren.