Hell week

After six days of working, I finally had two days to myself, which is spent driving my aunt to the hospital for a check up. Not that I’m complaining. She sort of shattered her femoral head so she needs to undergo total hip replacement, hence the check up. 

I got back from work hours ago. Today’s duty was not toxic but I still feel ridiculously tired. I’m just lying in bed, reading historical romances.

Enough of the boring non clinical crap.

I have learned a lot from my six day duty stint,or as I lovingly call it, hell week, and these are:
1. I hate mornings, rather, I hate waking up at four bloody am just so I can catch the freaking train. I would rather not sleep, really. 
2. It’s possible for me to not eat for a whole day, which is not advisable since I’m in a ward full of tuberculosis patients.

3. I’m deathly scared of my immune system failing me. Who wouldn’t? I don’t  want to die from consumption. This is not the bloody (heh, bloody, get it?) victorian era (or whatever era dying from TB is most common).

4. Some doctors are rude. Why can’t they comprehend that nurses are part of the medical team and not merely their minions? Seriously, hospitals will collapse without nurses. We do everything. Everything. Dear doctors, being kind to nurses wouldn’t hurt, we probably know more about the patient than you do.

5. Having top notch nurses means little if the supplies and medicines are limited. It does develop resourcefulness among the staff but still, lack of supplies leads to sort of abysmal healthcare.

6. Blood means nothing. People can leave their relatives to die alone.

7. Some patients are rude. It’s not proper to remind them that you’re (sort of)  partially paying for their healthcare because they’re in a government hospital, and that you pay the taxes that fund the hospital, and that they don’t because they don’t have any income. It’s condescending, I know but a little thank you would be nice.

In addition to that, there’s this one patient who sort of accused me of using the supplies that were meant for them, it pissed me off because I bought that fucking plaster, with my own fucking money.

If there is a god, I hope he’ll give me enough patience for this career.