I'm only making that my post title because I'm listening to my mp3 player. Some of us got to go home early today for a break, so I'm just hanging at the warehouse typing on the blog.
First off, definitely feeling the beat down today. Limited resources, very needy people, tired body and mind, lots of sad stories. I actually had to take a sanity time-out. . .three people were already occupying the three actual eval rooms in critical care, and the doctors, then you've got people with lost paperwork wanting to see the same doctor they saw yesterday, city employees waiting to get their vital signs so they can go on to dental/vision, someone needs their glucose checked right now, and then - where I saw the meltdown in the distance, when the two WAY hypertensive (when I say WAY I mean 220/120) patients approach being escorted by two nurses from triage because they are Vietnamese and speak no english. Oh yeah, there is no Vietnamese interpreter and no space in critical care to help. I have to admit, I was on overload. There were three of us total to sort all 35-40 people out. I triaged what I could and had to walk away for about 15 minutes. Working with such limited resources can be so frustrating when you're used to being a the "World Famous Mayo Clinic" where you just yell and get everything you need. It forces you to be creative in ways you never thought and it can be very uncomfortable and very exciting also. Such a different environment.
We had several "critical" incidents today, but the one I've been waiting for I missed because I actually got a break to eat lunch and left the medical tent. A gentlemen was getting his glucose checked in the tent and it was 610, the nurse got up to tell the nearest physician and the gentlemen started seizing and fell off his chair, going pulseless. I'm so proud of this nurse because she managed the room and got a code going. And where was her critical care nursing help? Eating lunch. Ugh.
Last night I was talking with some other volunteers about overwhelmed I've been with how well we're all working together. I realize it's only a week that we'll be here, but to not know anyone your going with, then be thrown into a chaotic situation with little to no direction and handle the way we have. . .I'm just extremely proud of everyone. People are just shining with their strengths. Just when I think I have someone figured out, they blow me away with something totally amazing and selfless. I mean, there aren't enough words to describe the group dynamic here. It's invaluable to this mission. It's not just nurses, it's the lab people that are working continuously without complaints, it's the pharmacists who have to educate people with very little knowledge of their own chronic illness process on their new medications; the doctors who have patients backed up one after the other - they so much as peak out of their little stall in the tent and we're throwing another patient at them. We have a security guy and a tech guy who have gone above and beyond their scope, doing our laundry, fixing our machines, getting supplies overnighted from Mayo, driving us to Walmart every night, generally putting up with our shit 24/7. I'm speechless.
Tomorrow night one of the "head guys" - I say that because I have no idea what his title is. . .has planned a dinner outing for the entire group, one of the best restaurants in New Orleans - according to one of the locals. I'm excited. I haven't been able to see Aaron down here yet, he got stuck at the clinic he works at, so he won't be able to come over with Cheri until Friday evening. I'm pumped to talk to them about the healthcare down here - to get another perspective.
The high tomorrow is 48 degrees with an 80% chance of rain.
Vote Al Frankin. . .
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