I'm at work and bored out of my mind, trying desperately not to fall face first on the keyboard in a narcoleotic stupor. Therefore, let me apologize in advance, because this entry is more for my entertainment (and yes, sanity) then it is for your's.
The PICU is a place meant for the adrenaline junkies, those who like action and function well under stress. In general, you think of a PICU patient as the sickest of the sick in the world of tiny tots and terrible teens. Why then, do I have 2 chronic patients with overbearing parents who are only to be disturbed every 4 hours? Doesn't that usually fit the criteria for a regular floor patient? My eyeballs are rolling around in my head with my efforts to keep them focused, I'm freezing because even my metabolism is telling me it's time to shut down for a few hours if I'm not going to be doing anything productive. It is quite the struggle to maintain your humanity at 3am in a quiet unit with lullabies in the background.
Now, I know that may sound harsh and a bit ungrateful, but I promise you it is only the ungodly hour and lack of stimulation that is making me cranky. I have even caught myself sneaking up on my slumbering kiddos hoping they'll have full diapers and give me something to do for a few minutes. Truly, I do love my job, dirty diapers and all, and I love my patients. They are wonderful children for all their faults, anamolies, and deformities. But for crying out loud, I am ready to stick the blunt side of a pen through one of my rolling eyeballs just to have something to do!!!
On that note, a quick change of topic. I must choose paint colors so that my dad has something to do when he comes down for a few days in July. Gotta make the man useful! Hmmm, should my room be a light brown, or a blue?.... Decisions, decisions. I think I just found something to do with my time!
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