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Friday, December 18, 2009

dreamin'

School's out, so it's one job down, two to go.

I love that 'cross things off the list' feeling as the year draws to a close. One by one, commitments fall away and I feel lighter and lighter. This year it is particularly poignant (for some strange reason, I love that word) as I am resigning from the hospital. I call it my maternity leave without the maternity. Or an early retirement. One way or another, I will find space in 2010.

Well, I might find space in 2010! I have a mental list a mile long of all the things I can fill my time with, starting with listening all day, every day to ABC Radio National. (But don't tell Frank. He's already a bit worried I'll sit around doing nothing with my time. I promised to only have the radio on in the background while I work hard on other things, like cleaning the mould off the weather boards, and weeding the garden)

One of my other dreams is to join a local musical society and start singing again. Since leaving church I've barely sung a note, except when I put Kelly Clarkson on, and then I belt out a few notes at full volume. Of course we're not just talking about a bit part here - I'm going for fame, auditioning for a part. No lowly choir for me.

Why is that? Why do I feel the need for a leading role? Why can't I just settle for a place in the choir?

I suppose because we live in a celebrity culture. It's not enough to enjoy myself singing in a group - I want recognition and fame and celebrity and adulation. When I realised this today, I decided I should probably find a little choir in which I can blend and contribute to the whole, rather than stand out in front receiving the glory. Better for my character. More real.

Radio, choirs... I wonder how the year will really turn out. However it goes, I'm really looking forward to it.

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Monday, March 02, 2009

go ahead, dooce me

Coincidence, placebo or super naturopathy, I feel better. It seems a little quick to me, but since I've been detoxing and swigging zinc, parex and another natural remedy or two, those nasty symptoms have declined. It made for a great day at work. I faced the onslaught with renewed energy, enthusiasm, cheerfulness and calm and loved it. What I didn't love was the way the day ended.

I had been looking after a patient for several hours. They were mostly OK, but failed to meet one of our nonnegotiable discharge criteria and consequently I could not send them to the ward. I was trying to deal with the issue, but we were all busy and in the deluge of post-operative patients I found myself looking after other people in addition to my original case load. We were all doing our best with the resources at our disposal, but inevitably some things slipped through the cracks. In the end I could not resolve my patient's issue before my shift finished. I handed over to another RN, explaining the situation, my actions and the outcome of these interventions.

I hate this moment in nursing. Actions undertaken with the best of intentions are laid bare before the incoming nurse, but the context of care is lacking. As I relay my story of assessment, planning, intervention and evaluation, I cannot hope to recreate the noise, busyness, tension and concomitant demands on my time. The record of my nursing care is instead detailed in cold, clinical terms and laid open for the assessment of the next RN.

The nurse I was handing over to today immediately started sniffing through my actions and charts. Her whole attitude was one of superiority, looking for the problems in my care. I am the first to admit I do not always make the best clinical decisions - any nurse who thinks they never make mistakes is most likely deluding themselves - but I have been nursing a long time. I know where there is room to move and where immediate action must be taken. I prioritise my patient's needs and make quick decisions about where I should focus my attention. I resent the feeling of being evaluated, especially when the nurse has significantly less experience than myself, and particularly when I cannot convey the full reality of the situation. My patient today was not recovering without complication, but they were basically OK and I did my best under the circumstances. I still left feeling judged, and no amount of rationalising would shake it.

I walked home reflecting on the situation, muttering and mumbling to myself about that RN. They've done it to me at least twice now - come on and questioned my decisions and actions. There are a number of factors at work here, not the least being individual personalities and nursing culture.

And that's when I saw them - the three fingers pointing back at me. I started thinking about my attitude when I take over a patient's care. Usually I am curious about what has happened (I love a good story) and want to know what is required of me to meet the patient's needs. I might ask clarifying questions but generally I am open and relaxed... until the previous nurse walks away. Then I start going through things with a fine tooth comb. 'They didn't do that? I wonder if they picked this up. I don't think they wrote that figure down anywhere!' and so it goes on. My demeanour with the nurse might be pleasant enough, but beneath the surface I too have the claws out ready to rip their practice to shreds.

Again, nursing culture and ingrained ways of thinking play into this. Wouldn't it be great if we saw the handover as a time of collaboration? When we ask questions, bring them humbly, hoping to offer insight from an alternative perspective, aiming to aid the situation rather than critique. And why not acknowledge the good work the nurse has done - we're all under pressure, let's honour each other and encourage each other in the face of difficulty. Let's give each other the benefit of the doubt - we mostly do our best in sometimes trying circumstances. I dream of handover being a time of affirmation, support and good will, with the patient's needs in the centre rather than our overinflated egos.

I'm kind of hoping good can come from this situation. I want to remember what the RN did to me and make a conscious effort to be different. I'd like to offer positive feedback to my colleagues. I can't change the personality of that nurse, but I can chip away at the dominant nursing culture. And who knows - one day we might stop kicking each other down with horizontal violence! Bring on that day.

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Wednesday, March 05, 2008

it's just not cricket*

There are a few distinctives of Australian culture that help us stand out from the morass of well satisfied, monotone Western cultures. One is 'tall poppy syndrome' - we have an incredible propensity for chopping anyone who dares attempt to stand out from the crowd down to size. Making more money than most of us? Fantastic grades? Astronomical success? It's just not cricket and we'll sniff out your Achilles heel if it kills us and bight you hard.

The other thing we don't do is dob. There are times when we discover a person is breaking the law, smoking dope, cheating on their tax, abusing their wife and child. But it's just not cricket to dob. Don't betray them. Don't do the right thing and inform the authorities. Instead we're more likely to pull together and protect the criminal. Of course this is a broad generalisation - not all Australians fail to report a law breaker and not all of us do our best to protect someone who is hurting others. But as a rule, dobbers are not well respected here. Neither is authority.

Where did these tendencies come from? I suspect the convicts. When we got off those ships we stepped into a hard place in which criminals suffered atrocious conditions and dreadful treatment. The land was hard to survive on and we fought just to stay alive - and escape the English soldiers. If anyone dobbed, the escapee would be caught. This was not cricket. Somehow this mentality is engrained in us.

This isn't to say Australia doesn't have systems in place to support and encourage the reporting of crime. We do! One such system is the 'Child Protection Authority'. It is mandatory to report any instance of child abuse. In a crazy twist of loyalties, to not report child abuse is to break the law.

It might be the law, and I did it, but I feel hollow. I feel like a traitor. I am devastated by what my actions might do to this family. I only hope the stand I took might improve things for this beautiful, beautiful child.

But it's just not cricket!


* it's just not cricket: Australian slang; having something that is unjust or just plain wrong done to someone or something. This came from the game of cricket which was regarded as a gentleman's game where fairplay was paramount.

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