Not a knitting disaster, but something involving a needle.

My good friend Heather has this cute blogsite called Gourmet Knitting Disasters. As I was reading her posts, I was thinking about my own recent disaster at work, and wanted to post something on her site, and then I realized that I really wanted to have my own little blog site in this vast world of technology. Should something REALLY disastrous happen to me, then maybe this could end up being some kind of memorium or something. How else will anyone remember me? Now that my daughter is out of the house, and I am still searching for my purpose in life, or maybe my true love, this might prove to be a useful journal and way for me to connect with myself, and for my friends to connect with me in a new and different way. And how well do we really know each other anyway? We share many of the things that happen in our lives, but do we share our deepest feelings, or even some of the mundane things that happen that have an impact on us. I am thinking about this, as I read Heather's site, and learn about a few new little things, and events that she and I haven't had a chance to share in "real" time. Of course there will be things that cannot be said in a public forum. Secrets we share only when we are one on one. And there is no replacement for actually "being" in the company of a close friend. So, on to my first blog attempt to anyone who happens along, I hope you enjoy, and feel free to leave a comment.

I just started back at my local hospital as a nurse this past month. I am a little bit rusty with all of the physical aspects of the job. I am re-orienting to my space in the hospital and I am relearning all of these skills. Getting medications out of vials, checking medications to make sure the right drug is given to the right patient, in the right way, etc. Dealing with needles, and jars, and doses, and names, and numbers. While getting a patients medication ready, which is something called Lovenox (commonly referred to as a drug thinner), I had to waste (get rid of) a small amount of the drug that was provided in the prepackaged syringe with a needle on the end. So, over I go to the nurses station sink. You would not believe how tiny the numbers on the side of the vial are (no my eyes aren't going yet, don't even think it!!). And the light over the sink is out, so I am trying valiantly to see what they say, by turning the vial, up and down, and all around, all the time I am squinting, and moving . I was delicately holding this syringe, with the needle pointing straight up in the air. Well, my focus on the numbers must have been more than my focus on holding the syringe, because suddenly the syringe is out of my hands, and falling (I would swear it happened in slow motion), and the next thing I know I feel a little poke, right on my right breast, sort of up high, just below the bra line. Now this is shocking enough in itself for me, because at that moment I was feeling like a boob myself. Not very effecient, and silly to boot. And then I realize that one of the doctors has seen this incident. So of course I pretend that nothing really happened. "Wow, that was close." The needle bounced off me and fell on the floor, and I am just fine. I get another dose of the drug, and more carefully hold the syringe this time, and prepare the correct dose. As I am getting ready to go off and give the shot to the patient, I look down and there is a nice quarter size blood stain on my scrubs, right on my right breast. Oh jeez, now I can't pretend that nothing happened, I have had an official "stick". I ignore this for the moment, and go off and give the patient their medication. When I come back and check myself out I fine I have a nice little swollen area where the needle hit my skin. Now I have very sensitive skin, so this in itself is not alarming to me, and it seemed apparent to me that I did not really get any bit of a dose from the needle, except for perhaps the most microscopic drop, which wouldn't really do anything anyway. But, now I feel I have to do the "right thing" and notify my "preceptor" and the employee health nurse of my clumsiness, and fortunately, because I have had a "clean stick", I don't need to file any forms or anything, I just need to clean my scrub top. Of course the comment of the day was that if my breasts were smaller, the needle would have just fallen on the floor, oh ha ha. All seemed well and good, except that I must have gotten a tiny bit of the drug when the needle hit my skin, because I ended up with the most beautiful fist sized bruise you could ever imagine. I look like I've been hit hard, and I haven't even been touched (if you know what I mean) in months. So much for getting gracefully back into the swing of things. Hmmmnph.