The best of times, the worst of times...

I think of myself, and have been described as, a no-nonsense type of person.  In other words, save the bullshit, what is it that needs to be done?

As an experienced individual, I find that when people are left to there own... they either rise, sink, or just float along.  There are some that might need a boost, or a lift at times; and then there are some that need a reality check, or at least the chair knocked out from under them, every now and then...

I admit, I myself, am not immune.  Throughout my life, I've had a few hands up, a chair or two knocked out, and quite a few 2x4's up side the head, if I may say so.




This past week has been interesting.  I wouldn't call it a personal conflict, yet I have been "bumping heads," with another individual quite often.  I macro-manage, focusing when needed.  This individual tends to micro-manage, looking up and around when they need to get their bearings.

The other day, this individual found themselves as a peer to me.

Their assignment:  Two discharges, an admit, and a new patient via ambulance all at the same time.  Trying to call report on the admit, one of the discharges standing in the hallway demanding that the IV (at least I think that was what they were referring to as the "damn thing") out of their arm, and the disparate look on my peer's face as the ambulance stretcher wheeled into their only open room...

I chuckled.  Thought about just walking by, as I knew they would not ask for help just to prove they could handle it.  Yet, I am able to rise above the petty stuff, cut through the BS, and just get what needs to be done, done.  So I took out the offending IV. Then went to the new patient.  Intake, assessment, and initial interventions completed.

One discharge left without instructions, the admit was on the way to floor, the other discharge due to a condition change, now an admission...  When they finally got to the new patient... I calmly gave report.  Everything was done, awaiting the physician.  As I left, I heard a soft-spoken, "Thanks."  I turned, smiled, and said, "I'm a Nurse too, it's what we do.  You're welcome."

Not a 2x4, nor a chair knocked out from under them, a gentle reminder.