I sometimes was summoned to the Operating Room area and I never liked that. I totally had to gown up with all of the double gloves, double masks, gowns, visors, and ridiculous repetitive hand sanitizing. We had to sanitize our hands while wearing those stupid gloves. Right, put on gloves, sanitize, then put on gloves over the gloves.
Right, put on gloves, sanitize your hands, then put on gloves over your sanitized hands already wearing gloves. Sure, the gloves that were delivered by unsanitized hands after sitting on unsanitized pallets in unsanitized trucks.
It was all freaking insane. Mindlessness imposed from Beings from on high in the Administration. Those folks were clearly involved in something not fully defensible logically.
So I had to go along and muddle my way into the ICU Jungles figuring out how to fix the dumb shit that the Rookie Docs were ordering. It was strange, me, some kid from the Boston Projects fixing their dumb ass shit. This was not a one time thing. This was every single freaking day.
I did not mind. In fact, I loved it. I felt so cool. Few would ever know what I really did. That did not bother me much. I loved my job. I loved it until they made it impossible for me. I hate whining all the time, but I physically was unable to do all that was demanded of me.
I told my boss, a man with considerably less experience than I had,...’The Spirit is willing but the Flesh is weak.’ They made my job so hard for me. I told them for weeks. I could not physically do it. Finally, I had to bail.
I am still pissed about that.
I had a wonderful job for years. I helped people. I explained things to their families. I had so much interaction with people whom I otherwise would never have met. I saw the best and the worst of people.
Sometimes I privately wept, and on other occasions I smugly suppressed my guilt and wondered about just who's life was improved because this person finally got their comeuppance. Actually that never happened but I sort of wish that it had. Not all of those Trauma Patients were like Snow White or something, even the ones who had their brains infected by high velocity lead poisoning.
The Trauma stuff is often like a road trip into the dark side of Humanity. So many people came in short of breath, in desperate need of help with their breathing. We all know it but we never say it, but it is not all just innocent victims of a bad day at the office.
You want to indulge that Crack Pipe, well fine, pretend that there are no potential consequences.
Now we are engaged in a great propaganda war, where the make believe Commander is handing out freaking crack pipes. What's next, free Fentanyl? These people are all crazy.
Come on down to the Trauma Rooms. Watch us try to resuscitate these wanna be Corpses.
It is truly difficult when the Patients are younger than your own children. I hated that part. It is alright now because I am out of it, but it is not as if I no longer remember. I have issues. It is mostly anger in me. I do not know how to explain it all, but I was thinking that it would make my life slightly better if I shared a bit.
It's all about history and few have it anymore.
In my business there are only a handful of people still working who know how it all started. Without that knowledge those doing the tasks are always playing catch-up. You did your best. I'm about to take the same trail you took since I'm getting too old to keep it going.
Fortunately,you can look back see that you did your best but were sabotaged as we all are in the end. Where do you go to take your last stand? Right where you are. You chose the best place to be and your posts show it.
We lead the pack here on FR. The rest have to play catch-up. We do the best we can and the rest will have to follow.