basric | LJIDOL 7 PROMPT "BROUHAHA"

I work Trauma. It is my calling. I was lucky to find mine, though at times I wonder if that's not a defect in my character. I am a strong, independent woman who often has no filter between her brain and mouth (better as I age though) and am recklessly, fearless(again guardian angel must have seen I married a 6'5" 240 pound cop.) I am an advocate for the underdog. You love me or hate me, no in between. I'm no hero, I just do my job. Okay its a difficult job. There are people more deserving of praise than I. So in my entries please forget the "I" and concentrate on the people and their stories around me. I run long. I think its worth reading. I hope you will take the time. Commenting with a ☺ is fine to let me know you read it and liked it. Criticism is appreciated. A writer always wants to improve and I have little ego where writing is concerned.

I work in the largest Trauma center in Middle Tennessee and Southern Kentucky. We are self-continued which means radiology (MRI, CT SCANS, X-RAY etc), Laboratory, everything but surgery. It was Friday night. Paula and I walked over the connector from the garage together. It was only 6 p.m. but we liked to get our bearings, have a coke or cup of coffee and relax a bit before beginning at 6:30 to make assignments and get report.

Inside the break room we stood together and read the new memo plastered there. There was one woman inside but she ignored us. (Remember the lack of filter) "What idiot wrote this?"

The new woman turned red-faced, "I did."

"And you are?"

"The new night manager."

"Have you ever run a trauma floor?"

"No, but I've been in administration twelve years."

"Have you ever worked a trauma floor."

"No."

"But you made rules without working a week to get the feel of the floor?"

"I don't need to, I'm cost cutting and I expect every rule to be followed to the letter."

Paula piped in pointing, "This one breaks and lunch will be assigned and will be taken exactly at that time or you will be written up."

"That's a cost saving measure."

Now, in my defense my mother always said my sisters got the Comanche features and I got the Welsh/Swedish but I got all the crazy Comanche blood, "I see, so if I've got my hands buried in a victim's chest holding an artery to keep him from bleeding out, I just hop off the table and go to lunch?" I can be sarcastic, too.

"You're Barbra and you must be Paula. I know you two think you run this floor nights you work, but no more. You switch up on the weekends doing charge and triage but tonight Tara will do charge and Lola triage," she actually sneered.

"You realize neither have done so, and both have less than two months in trauma?"

"So they need the experience."

"On a Friday night?"

"So."

"well its knife and gun night. MVA (motor vehicle accidents) triple due to D.U,I,'s, fights just to name a few."

She shrugged.

Paul pushed me out the door, I have a problem with idiots. At the desk I found we had four patients In TICU and no other nurses. She came out and explained she'd called off 10 nurses since there were no patients--cost saving.

In a voice that might have been too calm at Paula's look at me, "You realize Paula and I cannot take anymore patients by Hospital policy following the Nursing Board's rules and the medical school's rules; that it is Friday night and some of these on-call nurses are an hour away? Did you know the Trauma Attending is working tonight to monitor his three new residents." I know I said it like I was talking to a child.

She actually patted my arm, "It'll be okay, Honey."

Paula pulled me away. I am slow to anger and smolder awhile then explode like a volcano. "Calm down. There's nothing we can do."

"She's going to kill someone tonight. And do I LOOK like her HONEY?"

"Shh! I'd like to keep my best friend working with me."

Two hours into shift the alarm went off and all four LifeFlights lifted off. Three headed for Fort Campbell Army Base--a BLACKHAWK had gone down, 8 survivors. Five minutes later another alarm an accident on I-65 South car cut off an 18-wheeler, he couldn't stop in time and hit the SUV, it hit 3 other vehicles and a car of teenagers ran up the back of the truck. If under 18 they'd go to the children's hospital otherwise they would be ours. Multiple trauma victims. The last helicopter lifted off along with the one on Vanderbilt's Children Hospital.

The night manager was sitting reading a romance novel. I warned her to start calling nurses. She asked me who was in charge of the floor--go back to work. So I hunted Dr. D. down. The head Attending of trauma and as I cleared my patients trach I saw her busy on the phone and shooting glares at me. I can look innocent. I can, too.

The soldiers began arriving along with a gunshot victim and a man whose wife hit him in the head with a bat. The night manager, charge nurse and Triage nurse were running around wringing hands and swearing. It was like watching the Three Stooges only with three Curly's. Basically, it was what my salty mother would call a clusterfuck, what Gary would call a BROUHAHA.

Dr. D. came an told Paula and I to swap with the idiots in triage. We gave quick reports to the nurses then took over. The Night Manager disappeared. We lost the first soldier. I tell myself the brouhaha didn't cause it so I can sleep. The next soldier coded and I climbed on the gurney and began compressions while Paula put leads on his chest to monitor the electrity in his heart. V-Tach--alive but dying. A resident lifted me off and they shocked him. Lifted me back and tried epi.(which is adrenaline)in his IV line-V-TACH. up...shock...another drug..raise the charge...lift...shock.

The manager came in, "Barbra, you're not suppose to be here."

"Oh, is it my lunch time," I asked sweetly,as I was lifted off the gurney." (I can be sweet. Shut up, Paula.)

Before she could answer Dr. D. came out of one of the triage rooms, "Get the fuck out of my triage."

She huffed and left.

It took twenty minutes but we got a sinus(normal) rhythm. Off the lieutenant went to surgery. Paula took over triage with the residents. I went to work out the assignment sheets and fill out forms for those we lost, a soldier and civilian.

I called Tara over and went over everything with her about assigning the patients coming from surgery and those still in triage. Then we reviewed everything she should have done throughout the night. Paula spent some time with Lola. We returned to our patients until morning.

Of course, I got called on the carpet by our Manager when he came in. The night manager had been on the phone with him off and on all night. She wanted me terminated immediately. Dr. D. invited himself to my lynching and made himself heard, my knight in slightly tarnished armor because when the idiot accused "He's probably fucking her", he exploded. I've seen him mad but not like this. My manager excused me. I left, quickly.

Saturday night Paula and I walked across the connector and up to 11-North to the smoothly running floor. The memo was gone. I was in charge, Paula doing triage. We were fully staffed. The night manager was never seen again.