And Another And Another And Another. . . .

Frank Ward O'Malley once said, "Life is just one damned thing after another." Aside from the fact that I haven't a clue who Frank Ward O'Malley is, or even his significance within history, I find myself strangely connected to him. I supposed this feeling stems from the sad truth that he has the guts to say what I often feel and yet would never admit. Not that I would word it quite the same and with as much elegance. But I think you get the drift.

It's not that I believe life is one huge chain of events, one leading to another, entirely void of purpose. I'd be the first person to get up on my soapbox and lecture you on the impossibilities of a life without purpose. Yet the pessimist within often rears its ugly head and lately life, mine in particular, seems to be one gigantic domino set up desperately awaiting a single event to set them all in motion. But that's not even the worst of it. In keeping with the laws of Sir Isaac Newton, and object once set in motion, would really prefer to stay that way, which inevitably means I'm doomed. And it all began Wednesday night.

Dobbhoffs are just a bad omen for me. I shouldn't have tried to suppress my pessimism that night when really it was just reality smacking me upside the head. For those not familiar with my medical jargon, I'll take a brief moment to define and explain the significance of a dobbhoff.

1. A dobbhoff tube is an apparatus used in a medical setting to administer tube feeding for nutritional purposes. Inserted through the nose, this small bore tube travels down the back of the throat, and into the esophagus reaching its final destination in the stomach. Placement is then verified by X-ray. Upon placement verification the styllette wire is removed and a Kangaroo pump is used to administer the feeding through the tube.

Sounds simple right? Wrong. Dobbhoff = invasive procedure which = patient consent, which in this particular case = consent won't be given until the family members decide to visit. Dobbhoff insertion is rather challenging. I've never had a patient whose X-ray verified placement on the first try. Thus was the case on this particular evening. But the real problem begins with the fact that the previous RN did not attempt placement until right before shift change. So of course the complication is passed on to me. To make matters worse, everybody whose anybody, whose services might be needed, is at home. This includes the radiologist who reads my X-rays and gives me the okay to use the dobbhoff. Thus either I spend the night bribing and persuading the ER docs to read my X-rays or I just leave it till the morning. I'd had my fill of these problems from the past and thus decided to allow the next RN to figure it all out in the morning. At least she would have the necessary resources and the faculty members to finish the job. But this decision was not made out of laziness. You see this patient was having a plethora of other problems, most requiring my immediate attention, allowing me to temporarily and completely disregard the dobbhoff dilemma.

Not only was he gushing blood from a surgical site, but he was vomiting profusely in between bouts of explosive diarrhea. In the meantime this person wants pain medication, that MD is on the phone ready to chew me out about things or other, this person needs to receive 3 enemas, my beeper is ringing incessantly, and on, and on, and on, swirling around me like a crazed tornado. And people wonder why I get stressed out sometimes from work. Thank God for Muscles. Without his constant encouragement and spare set of hands I'm sure that I would've quit a long time ago. Back at home in my little apartment there is a leaking roof thanks to another idiotic stunt from the woman upstairs, with mismatched paint to repair, most of it ending up in my hair, sickness, medication, side effects, fatigue, loneliness, a broken heart, and maybe even a little chocolate cake.

So you see, O'Malley had it right. Sometimes life really is just one damned thing after another.