cramming

been very busy with the syllabi-making. the school is aligning the old BSN curriculum to the new CMO 5.

ha! i want to end this!

Nurses and doctors in demand!

But not in a good way!

Just a bird’s eye view: I live in central Mindanao, which is kilometers away from the battlefields of the recent (and maybe continuing) terroristic upheaval by some Moro Islamic Liberation Front (MILF) “lost command” groups. They are Jihadists who clamor for independence–an Islamic State, that RP government should hand-over their so-called ancestral lands.

——

Just two days ago 10 pm, an OB-GYN was abducted by 3 suspected MILF members right inside the hospital compound. Witnesses, who were mostly student nurses, observed that the female obstetrician was forcefully dragged into her car despite her resistance. They scooted and bumped their way through the closed hospital main gate serving as a barricade. The authorities pursued them along the high way, until the car turned turtle, causing the death of one suspect.

The story was alarming, and is becoming more horrifying considering that there were specualtions (or actually otherwise) that the terrorists are in dire need of doctors and nurses. Why? I guess, this would make sense: the recent MILF-military encounter may have injured their members (or a leader); ergo, needing medical service.

The fact that these terrorists are lurking amidst us and are hunting/haunting some of us (doctors, nurses) is a compelling safety concern. Safety measures were already raised and we abide by that just to put “peace of mind”.

I pray to God that this would stop, that civilians won’t suffer from somebody’s crooked belief.

bye bye

People say sorry is the hardest thing to say, but to me, goodbye is a whole lot worse. Because goodbye really hurts. It’s definitely difficult to say sorry, but that one word can make everything right. It can readjust the world that seems to have been tilting on a dangerous axle. But to say goodbye, that causes the world to fall off the axle and over the cliff, to pummel down to the depths below.

Goodbye

That was me rambling 2 months ago. I dont mean to lament on a lost love but, swear to God, im perfectly fine. I just thought this poetic picture is worth sharing for. Plus, Jay modelled for me.

work issue 01

Three years ago, I began working as a clinical instructor to the school where I took my BSN degree. It was an unexpected career tilt at that time because I never had the intention to work as an instructor to my Alma Mater, until the former dean invited and really encouraged me to join them. I would have applied automatically to some other nursing schools, but there was no other school in the city that would provide quality and competent nursing education other than NDU… haha no kidding. Working in the academe was definitely not on the top of my career list. My goal was to finish all foreign exams, gain clinical experience as a staff nurse, and  work in the “land of milk and honey”.

I don’t know, was it due to the hefty paycheck CIs receive or had I gotten bored from working the routine clinical nurse staffing, that attracted me to slightly move my career axle? Now, I am drawn to believing it was actually due to both reasons.

When i worked as a staff RN to a private hospital, we were paid the amount equivalent to the tax i pay in my current job. The paycheck was unbelievably meager. Plus, I kind of lost my spirit due to the unchallenging and repetitive nursing activities. So i needed refreshment, and that’s when I considered to redirect my career path.

Alright so much for digression. Actually, today’s blog entry is about my apprehension when left alone with any of my former teachers, who happen to be my colleagues in the academe. I don’t know but i tend to become anxious and jittery when I’m left in the room or in the jeep with them, that i have no choice but to converse naturally, and try hard not to see myself as their former student.

I could not detach the fact that i had been there student, and that it’s not common for me to chat with my “superior” candidly. And i don’t know if i were a good student in there point of view. Some of them regard me as a friend, but I couldn’t deal with them naturally as hard as i try because of the awestruck shindig coming in my head.

I have so much respect to my CIs in particular. And i regard that as uncomfortable rather than a good behavior.

That was actually the reason why I would rather work to other nursing schools.

an appalling night

Mr. B passed away last night.

—————-

When I entered the surgery department, I saw him inside the surgery intensive care unit and sighed for relief, that at last the operation pushed ahead. At the back of my head, though, i thought the operation was too late due to the damage the poor perfusion might had brought to his vital organs.

He was lying unconsciously and was connected to a mechanical ventilitor. His heart rate was abnormaly rapid, and the blood pressure fluctuated from low normal to below normal. He was on a Dopamine drip to correct the hypotension. He was basically, in our colloquial lingo, “toxic”.

Still, i assigned the same student to him. Mr. B had still very low urine output. He actually never had a normal urine output throughout his 18-hour post-operative period. His 12 MN UO was 20 cc/hr, which was then brought to the nurse-on-duty’s attention.

At around 2:15 am, the student called my attention and said Mr. B. was looking oddly pale and was suggesting something wasn’t good happening to him. I saw his ECG monitor flashing an atrial flutter. His blood pressure was falling. I called the attention of the nurses-on-duty, who were in the REM phase that very moment (yes sleeping on post is normal, especially when affiliating students were around).

When I returned to the SICU, his ECG was brandishing ventricular tachycardia. Advanced cardiac life support was then initiated. His pupils were already dilated when the doctor came. Mr. B didn’t make it. He was called 20 minutes later.

What i hated about the incident was when the surgeon purports to be incognizant about the client’s urine output– that we failed to report the 1 and 2 am reading (which were 15 and 10 respectively), that i should make an incidental report.

It felt like Mr. B’s death was my fault. I was the instructor, and they made me feel I failed to perform my duty. I hate when people nit-picks for a lame reason.

I don’t know but it just broke my spirit. choz..

tired as a dog

huh, this graveyard shift is dizzying my day life! I don’t know, i always feel groggy during the day. I couldn’t get enough sleep during the day. Even though my room is intentionally darkened by covering the windows with thick blankets, and setting the AC, the most sleeping hours i could tolerate is 5, unless im taking alprazolam, but no thanks.

catch-22

Last night, Mr. B was admitted to the surgery department pale, obviously dyspneic (breathing difficultly), had a rigid abdomen, yet still conscious and oriented. From that, one can assume he was on active internal abdominal bleeding. He was diagnosed with Perforated Typhoid Ileitis, a complicated condition of typhoid in which a part of small intestine has ulcerated and perforated.

He was supposed to be scheduled for an emergency surgical operation called exploratory laparotomy, which was delayed due to incapability to provide consent. Nobody who was with him could legally provide a consent for surgery. The client, who happened to be a minor, asked to wait for his older sister to arrive, which they didn’t know when. Due to the same reason again, they could not provide blood that would be needed during the operation.

It was a picture we commonly see in the hospital I am assigned at. It was terrible, sad, and horrifying, at least to me.

I was handling level three students. Basically they are understandably handicapped in terms of managing medical-surgical cases. Hence, I assigned the best student I got in my list.

One simple yet very important nursing activity to Mr. B was measuring his intake and output every hour. Mr. B. had a urine output of less than 25 cc/hr. But he weighted 48 kg, and technically a normal urine output for him should have been around 48 cc/hr. Generally, a urine output less than 30 cc/hr indicates poor renal perfusion, which could be life-threatening, owing to the fact that the client had a perforated ileum. He was basically dehydrated, and there was no enough blood to keep his vital organs functioning. It was evident because he started to become lethargic.

We informed the nurse-on-duty about the data and hoped she would refer it to the physician. A little later, she dialed the surgeon’s office and delivered the news right away. I was hoping the doctor would do something. But nah, he was contented of knowing the client’s regressing condition.

I don’t know but stories like this really break my heart. I just relied on the fact that actions are very dependent to the availability of resources. The client may be operated, but blood may be needed to replace massive blood loss. The hospital may have the resources, but the client’s financial capacity is another story to consider.

What makes it more frustrating? A tertiary government hospital, which should especially assist on the health care needs of the grassroots citizens, can not totally provide for this. Yeah, i know it’s ironic. And this has been a perennial problem in our country.

It all boils down to the government’s non-prioritization to health.

And so, I ended the shift hoping Mr. B could find assistance from a social worker and be operated soon.

ano daw?

We were at Ted’s restaurant sitting and waiting for the food to be served. My friend Jay noticed (working on gay paranoia again) some dad-looking guy, with his preschooler daughter, sitting at adjacent table stealing a look at us and specifically at him. And we had the following conversation:

M: I think that daddy is ogling at you

Jay: (sipping a cola and obviously shivering) OO nga, bet nya tayo! (Yeah, he’s flirting at us)

M: ikaw baya ang bet nya ha (I believe he’s flirting at you), he’s stealing a look at you, neng.

Jay: Ay wiz ko bet, kasi gora na sya. hahaha (Not my type, he’s too old for me!)

M: Di ba bet mo mga daddy-looking? (I thought you had a thing for daddies?)

Jay: gors na for a daddy. (he’s way too old for a daddy)

M: I wonder, nasaan kaya si mother (where could his wife be?)

Jay: ganyan talaga (what do you expect), “When the cat is away, the mouse is playing around”

Mo: di ba dapat rhyme yun? (the quote should rhyme, right?)

Jay: oo nga (of course, it does), “When the cat is away, the mouse is playing around”

toink!

re-treating ourselves

welcome all!

Notre Dame University administrators, faculty and staff had an annual retreat at different spots in Davao city. Though it hadn’t moved me or affected me deeply, it was still spiritual and fun. One of the most memorable parts I loved in the retreat was about the short documentary presentation entitled “Sa Kambas ng Lipunan – On the Canvas of Society“. It was about the self-realizations of a Filipino painter when he came across the lamentable and unfortunate lives of impoverished children. I felt the stab in his words and i broke into tears. Well it wasn’t about the painful scenes in the film that brought the kleenex moment, it was about the fact that I realized I share the same reflections the painter has. It was heart-breaking.

The other part that I felt blissful about the retreat was the culminating activity held at Paradise Beach park, Samal Island. I am not a beach person, so the thought of going to a beach for the culmination didn’t actually excite me. Although i like adventures, I was impassive about it, and i was vocal about it. But it turned out, i was one of the few who really enjoyed going to the water on a hot sunny afternoon, forgetting about sunburn and getting tan. I don’t know, i just felt the festive mood in the beach. It was like a grand reunion of a big family– the NDU community which i belong to. Some of my friends were really excited to go out and explore the island, and it was contagious. To note, it was the first time I enjoyed the beach.

The last part that i loved about having a retreat is escaping “reality”, which is work, work, and hard work. The reality is I love my job as a clinical instructor, but the pressure and stress that i get from it sometimes burn me out. Beside being fed like a wild boar, we had a time to relax, be cool, meet new acquintances, go shopping (which really is therapeutic, only if i have extra pesos in my pocket), eat Durian, go in the cinema, and bond and joke around with close friends.

There’s nothing much to say. At least i had gotten much from the so-called escape from reality episode. As of the moment im preparing for a night duty. waah

Hello world!

Registering an account here really took me like forever. Not because I don’t blog, nor do i have no chance to browse the web, but because i procrastinate. I have established a blog home, but the site isn’t meant for blogging actually. And the thought of starting the whole process is like a hard thing to do. But i have decided, and i am keeping this blog. This assertion may or may not be true.

I don’t even know what I want to write, all I know is that I have to get it out. It isn’t healthy to keep something bottled up inside, so, instead, I’ll pour my heart and soul out in this blog. Hopefully, i’ll have something meaningful to write…