My homeless man with the large neck mass sprung a leak yesterday. His gown was covered in blood. When I say covered, I mean it could be wrung out. A few drops here and there, or any spot that can be covered with a washcloth does not count. Today the docs decided to get tough and come up with a plan. "Lets hold him down and give him a shot."
Brilliant. And who would be the one holding him down and who would give him the shot? Personal decision: I don't play with combative people and needles at the same time....
New plan: "Lets mix up some ativan, haldol, and benadryl and mix it into his roxanol!"
Much better idea. Now, if he would just drink it!
The rest of the nurses on the floor are all "in" on the whole storyline. They are practically cheering me on in sedating the man. "Can I watch? I won't help, but can I watch?"
Nursing: spectator sport!
So there it sits on his table. I keep hoping he will take it.
I did bathe him. Or rather, I gave him a warm, wet washcloth which he took and wiped his hand. Then I stood behind him and wrung out a few washclothes over his back and chest from behind to which he made a noise not unlike chewabacca! "Sorry."
Now his "cancer liquid" odor does not permeate the hallway quit as badly. Next time he gets out of bed I am soooo changing his sheets. And I took away his urinal so he won't drink out of it.
It is good to be me. I get to go home in 3 hours and be off work for the next 4 days.
Wednesday, January 17, 2007
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