The Rat Race

All, I have to say is what a week!

I didn't think it was possible to be this exhausted and I have triplets.

I really don't know how you mommies out there that work 5 days a week, do it.

Let's just say that I now have a whole new respect for you.
You ladies, totally ROCK!

I have no idea how in the world you keep up with everything.

I would get done with my classes at work, get the kids and head home, ready to put my feet up and relax. But that just didn't happen.

As soon as I entered the house, the kids needed dinner, bathes, things needed to packed and readied for the next day, the house was a mess, laundry needed to be done, groceries don't just appear in the fridge and so on.

I felt like I was constantly behind, always running to catch the next thing but never able to.

I guess that is why one morning I got out of the shower only to get back in again because I couldn't remember if I had washed my hair.
I did this three times before I just gave up.

Or one night when Jake wanted to eat frozen garlic bread for dinner, I let him.

It was one whirl wind week and I am glad it is over.

But there was a silver lining to this week.

I am not talking about the awesome friends that took things over here at my beloved blog.
I am so grateful for their help and I thought that they all did a fantastic job.

I am not talking about the fact that I learned all about and was trained for a new life saving program.
I am really excited to prefect these new skills and can't wait to use them.

No I am talking about the fact that I did not have to change one diaper, either poopy or wet, kid sized or adult sized, all week.

That's right.
I went one whole week with out having to care for someone else's bodily functions besides my own.

And that fact makes the whole week worth it.

Now for a relaxing weekend, well sorta.

Just Don't Laugh

I am a nurse. I have been for some time and I love my profession. I really, really do. As a nurse, it is my job to take care of people and a lot of times that means taking care of people's private parts. I often have clean it, put tubes in it and just examine it if it is not functioning correctly.

It has been my experience that women have no issue with this. It is just par for the course, maybe it has something to do with child birth, who knows.

Now men on the other hand, men have a HUGE issue with this. They get all silly and begin to act like little children. They whine and cry when I go near it or start to giggle when I talk about their penis.

It is really no big deal to me. A penis is a penis is a penis. I have seen more penis' than a stripper in Las Vegas ever will. It is just another part of the body like an arm or toe. I am a professional after all.

Even with that in mind, men just don't handle this well, especially the older men. They seem to forget that I am a professional and I am not there to judge, rate or compare their penis. It is not like I am going to take one look at it and then run and go tell my friends about it. It really is not that interesting, trust me.

But no matter how I conduct myself, there always has to be the comment. Most men must make a comment about it.

For example:

"Sorry its so small."

"It used to not look like that, back in the day it was an outstanding specimen."

"Please don't laugh."

"Don't worry, my equipment hasn't worked right in years."

"Bet you have not ever seen one like this before."

"I don't even know if I know where to find it."

"Its been some time since a women was around those parts."

Now, sure these comments are funny but think about how they are said to me. They are said when I have my hand on or around a penis. It is not a comfortable position to be in the first place and these comments don't help.

Sometimes I think that men make these comments as a joke, to lighten the tension but all it does is create more tension and make an award experience more award.

Besides, whatever they say, I am not going to respond. I just keep my eyes down and continue working. Its not like I am going to bust out with, "Don't worry you're not really all that small. The guy in room 12, now he's got a small penis. And the guy in room 21 is hung like a horse."

I would never say those things in front of a patient. I am going to save those comments for the break room where we sit around and compare all the penis' that we have seen.

Because we have nothing better to talk about.

1-800 Dial a Nurse

Nap time is my time of day. I use it to do things that I want to do. I don't use this time to pick up the house, do laundry, or clean. I use it to watch TV, read a book, relax on the couch, blog or sometimes take a nap myself.

This one hour (some times two if I am lucky) a day is my time. I use it to recharge and unwind. I feel that I deserve at least that. And sure, if I used this time to clean the house, fold laundry or pick up, my house hold chores would get done faster but I know that I would be miserable. I need this time to stay sane.

This time of day is so precious to me that I usually don't even answer the phone. Well, that's not true, I screen the calls and if its someone that I don't know or I don't want to talk to, I let it go straight to voice mail. I will return the call later in the day or in the evening.

This exact thing happened the other day. I was at the computer when the phone rang. I wasn't going even get up to look at the phone but I decided that I should. I mean, what if it was my mother calling. I really should take her calls, right!?

But instead, the caller ID told me that it was my unit at the hospital calling. I figured they were just calling to ask me to work and there was no way I could. And besides, my precious nap time is not a time to talk to anyone at work, so I ignored the call.

A little later, after the kids were awake and settled with a snack, the beep of my phone reminded me that I had an unheard message. I grabbed my phone, pulled up my voice mail and listened.

I expected one of my co-workers to come on the line and leave me a message about how we were shorted staffed at 3pm and if I was able to work to please call. But what I heard was entirely different.

A gruff female voice came on the phone and said, "Bob! Bob! Why are you not answering Bob?"

Then in the background I heard other people talking, "Make sure you tell him that we are going to be moving out of the ICU. You will no longer be in room 12. Tell him to make sure that he brings you some clothes."

Then there was some shuffling and I heard another voice, "Yes, your call light is on? What can I help you with?"

"Pooooop!" The first gruff female voice shouted. "I gotta pooooop! Poooop! I gotta poooop!" The voice continued only louder, "Bob! Bob, you sonofab*tch, answer me!"

Then the background voice spoke up again, "Mom, you need to hang up the phone. He is not there."

"Poop," the gruff female voice said again, "I gotta poooop! Poop. Poop. Poop."

Then nothing, the messaged ended.

I looked at my phone. Listened to the message again. Checked to make sure that the phone number was actually from the hospital.

Then I did the only thing that I thought was right. I called up my friend, who I knew was working and said, "Um yeah, the patient in room 12 just called me and I think she may need some help going to the bathroom. Will you check into it?"

She started to protest and question me but I just said, "Trust me, on this one." I closed my phone and shook my head, "Weird just weird."

I put my phone away and hoped that there would be no more calls for Bob or the bathroom to my phone.

Pencil Thin, Baking Boogers and Other Randomness

I am a nurse. It is my job to look at things that come out of the body, describe them and then choose from a drop down list on a computer to document what I see. There are choices like brown, green, creamy, thick, loose, thin, soft, formed and so on. But there is one choice that I really don't know what to do with when I see it. And that is pencil thin. What in the world does that mean? In my almost 10 years as an RN, I have not seen anything come out of the body that looks, pencil thin. Seriously.

******

I was trying to enjoy a cup of coffee in the kitchen, when Jake wondered in. He looked up at me and said, "See dick, Mommy." I about spit my coffee out of my mouth as I tried to understand what he was saying. "What?" I asked. "See dick. Want see dick, pleeese, Mom." Jake said a little more urgently. "Jake, I don't know what a 'see dick' is," I said to him. Then he walked over the the fridge and tried to open the door. "See dick. See dick." He said while pulling on the door. "Oh, do you want a Cheese Stick?" I said as the light bulb went off. "Yeah, see dick." Jake said with a big grin.

******


Doesn't this just make you want to try some of what we have been baking?


It comes complete with some extra chewy little pieces.
Yum. Yum.


******

Since our first snow last week, Hayden wanted to build a snowman. After many hours of begging and pleading, Jeff agreed. They built a little snowman. Hayden spent many, many minutes pick out each rock for his eyes and he found some leaves for ears. He was so proud of his creation. He loved his little snowman and show anyone who would look.

So how come a couple days later, did I find him murdering the poor thing? I am not just talking about knocking it over. No, I am talking about knocking it over, throwing the head across the yard and then stomping on it until its no longer recognizable.I just don't get it. Seriously, what is wrong with these kids?

******

There are two things that I would really, really like to teach my children. First, I am not the trash can. No matter how 'trashy' I look, I do not want to hold your trash. The actual trash can is located under the sink, always has been, always will be. So Use It!

Secondly, when you put food in your mouth and chew it for a number of minutes, you are suppose to swallow it. Not come and find me and spit it out into my hand. That is so extremely gross. Chew and swallow food. That is all.

******

I hope you all have a great weekend. We are going to get our Christmas tree. Well, if we can find one in the blizzard that we are having, should be fun.

Call Now for a Live Chat

When you dial a phone number it is just natural to expect to be connected with the person that you called. Sure, every now and again you dial the number wrong and get connected with someone else but that is really not the norm.

I am no different. When I dial a phone number, I expect to get connected to the person or place that I am calling. Well, I used to expect this. But now, my phone dialing expectations will never be the same.

During one of my shifts at work, a couple of the monitors that we use to keep tract of patient's vital signs weren't working properly. After switching the patients to different monitors, I got the phone number to call our customer service rep to try and fit the problem.

I dialed her number which led me to her voice mail. It stated that she would be on vacation for the next week. Well, this problem couldn't wait that long. So I called the person that she said was covering for her. The number once again led to voice mail.

This was a time sensitive matter so waiting for this woman to check her voice mail and get back to me wasn't an option. In her message, she thankfully left a number to a customer service center which could be used when she wasn't available. I listened carefully and wrote down the number.

I hung up the phone and dialed the 1-888 number she left. I waited for the automatic system to pick up the line. But when it did, I was really confused by the response.

"To speak with a live person and chat, call 1-886-XXX-XXXX."

Totally didn't expect that but I wrote the number down, hung up the phone and dialed the new number. Again, I waited for the automatic options to be told to me.

"Welcome to Live Chat. There are hot, sexy girls waiting to chat with you. Press 1 to chat with Monica. Press 2 to chat with Tiffany. Press....."

I sat there in shock as the message played on. I couldn't believe what I was hearing. I hung up the phone and tried to figure out what was going on.

"Maybe, I dialed wrong? Maybe I wrote the number down wrong?" I thought as I picked up the phone and dialed the first number again. I listened to each of the voice mail messages again and verified that I had indeed written down the correct number.

Then I once again dialed the customer service center. I once again got the message to call the 'live chat' number. I once again dialed the number.

"Welcome to Live Chat. There are hot, sexy girls waiting to chat with you. Press 1 to chat with Monica. Press 2 to chat with Tiffany. Press....."

I hung up the phone completely dumbfounded by the whole situation. Now, I had two problems on my hands. I still had to figure out how to get the patient monitors fixed but now I also had to try and explain to my boss why there are people calling live sex chat hot lines from the nursing unit.

How Many Times?

I can't tell you how many times, I have sat with a patient and their family as they were given the news that their life was going to be cut short.

I can't tell you how many times, my heart ached for these families as the came to terms with the words that the doctors spoke.

I can't tell you how my times I have sat with a patient and remembered the good things in the life and laughed at the bad.

I can't tell you how many times, I have hugged a daughter when she was about to loose her mother.

I can't tell you how many times, I have supported a son when he realized his father just couldn't fight anymore.

I can't tell you how many times, I have prayed with a patient and their family for peace, for comfort, for the suffering to end, for there to be some hope, for God to just be there.

I can't tell you how many times, I have heard the words, "You have Cancer."

I have been there when people have been told their live was going to end.
I have been there when people have been told that the disease has taken over.
I have been there when people were told there was a number on their days.

But these words, were just words to me. I didn't understand their gravity and the power they hold. I didn't understand how they could leave a person breathless. I didn't understand.

Until now.

Being faced with the mortality of a woman, who I love like my own mother, I understand these words. I understand the power, the breathlessness, the sadness, the fear, the anger, the finality.

And those words have taken on a whole new meaning. They will never be just words to me again.

I know this post is more serious than the stuff that I usually post but I have some very serious stuff going on in my life right now.
This is my outlet, my way of getting things off my chest and off my mind.
I will get back to the less serious stuff later but right now, I just needed to write this.

Room 35

I walked into work, late and half asleep as usual. I went to the time clock to punch in and see my assignment for the shift. I glanced at the sheet and then glanced again to make sure that I had to correct assignment in my not yet caffeine charged brain.

As I walked down the hall, I began to think about my assignment and then it hit me. I knew of the patient in room 35, his reputation proceeded him.

I sighed and thought about how I could possibly get out of this. Maybe I could say that I was not able to take care of him because I had a cold and that would be good for him. Or maybe I could say that my back hurt and I would be able to care for him properly. Or maybe.... maybe I would just take my turn his the assignment.

I did not have to work the next day and you can do anything for 12 hours, right? I kept walking and prepared to take report on the patient.

Room 35 was home to an older man. He was a gruff old man with a perverted sense of humor.

Life had been rough on him. And now that the one last good thing he had, his health, was failing, he let anyone and everyone know how miserable he was.

He was loud, rude, disrespectful and at times just pain mean.

If you got him on a 'bad day' there was nothing you could do to make him happy. He was known for throwing full urinals across the room. He refused to use the bedpan, instead sat in his stool and smearing it all over. He refused most of his bathes. He had slapped away lab techs and he had even gone so far as to spit in people's faces.

Needless to say the list of nurses that would not or could not care for him was longer than the nurses that would.

Today it was my turn. I had never actually been in charge of his care, only heard the stories. That is just the beauty of part-time, sometimes you 'miss out' because you don't work as often. But it now was finally my day.

I listen carefully as the night shift nurse told me his history and about her night. They had not meshed well, so it have been a partially awful night for her. She was frazzled and I could tell that she was at her whits end.

As we were finishing, his call light went off. She rolled her eyes and said, "He is all yours. Good luck, 'cause you are going to need it."

I watched her hurriedly pack up her things and leave. I wished that she would have just toughed it out and answered the bell one last time. I just needed a few more minutes to prepare, a few more sips of coffee. But I guess that I couldn't blame her for wanting to run like hell but my coffee.

I took a deep breath, guzzle down half my coffee and entered the room.

"Good Morning, Room 35. My name is Jen and I am going to be your nurse today." I said trying to make my tone as sweet as possible and hide all my insecurities.

My greeting was met with a grunt and then silence as he looked me up and down, almost sizing me.

"Your call light was on. What can I do for you?" I said hoping that my sweet soft tone would sooth him.

He smiled at me and said, "I am uncomfortable. Fix it."

I did my best to reposition him and get him comfortable in bed. While I was completing the task, Room 35 just smiled at me and after a few minutes said, "Fine."

I went over the the computer, entered his vital signs and prepared his morning medications. He never said a word, just watched me and smiled as I went about my daily tasks.

When I finished with his tasks, I looked at the clock. I had spent enough time in here and need to see my other patient. I asked him, "Is there anything else I can do for you?"

"No," he grunted but then quickly added," When will you be back?"

"I have another patient to see but I will check on you in about 30 minutes or so," I said.

"Seems like a long time to be gone from me. I am very sick man, hooked up to all this sh*t. I need attention too," was his reply.

"Don't worry. You will be fine and I will just be in the next room. I can see your monitor in there. I will always be watching you." I tried to reassure him.

He turned his head away from me. I took that to mean that he understood and I left.

The rest of the day went off without any trouble. He was cooperative, helpful and even pleasant at times. He mostly was just quiet and kept a silly grin on his face every time he saw me.

I didn't understand what people were complaining about. He was not a difficult patient to care for. He was fine. I guess it was just my excellent nursing care that softened him. "Maybe because of me, he would be nice from now on," I told myself, stroking my ego.

Towards the end of my shift, I went into his room to gather some last minute data. He appeared to be asleep, so I kept as quiet as I could. I was studying the computer screen when he spoke, his voice startling.

"Come here!" He demanded.

I walked over to his bed. He looked at me and said, "Those tits are f*cking fantastic."

A big smile came across his face as he laid his head onto his pillow, almost proud of himself. There was a very long, awkward silence in the room as I processed what he just said.

I looked at him, at the silly grin plastered all over his face (I now knew why it was there), and said, "Yes, yes they are fantastic but you will NEVER know just how fantastic."

And with that, I turned and walked out of the room.

This post is part of Writer's Workshop hosted by Mama Kat.

This post is based on true events, some of which happened to me and some of which happened to the lovely people I work with.
I have taken some liberties and spun them together hoping to make a good story.

Holding A Hand

There is a whole other side to my life that I really don't talk about much here. But it is a very important part of my life. You see, before I was a Mommy, I was and am a Registered Nurse. I love being an RN and to me it is much more than a job or career. I get to do some amazing things, some big and some small, to help people. I have decided that I want to share some of these stories.

As the bed turned the corner, I saw him. A frail little man that looked like the giant hospital bed was going to swallow him whole. He had his eyes to squeezed tightly closed, every muscle is his body was shaking.

People were buzzing around him in a frenzy of activity. Talking over him, shouting orders, trying to calm him. But every time someone tried to touch him his body would tense up and he would thrash in the bed and pull against the restraints that held him safely in the bed.

The restraints were there to keep him safe, to keep him in bed, to keep him from failing, to keep him from removing medical equipment that he needed to save his life. But to him, they were just one more thing that he didn't understand, just one more that was scary and confusing about this new environment.

We pushed his bed into the his new room and lined the old bed up with the new bed. The restraints were untied and as soon as he felt the slack, he began to swing and swat at anyone that came close. We were trying to help but our efforts were lost on him.

And he immediately reached for his feeding tube, a tube that was giving him life saving nutrients. But to him is was not a life saving device, to him it was foreign, cold and strange.

Staff member reached for the ties and began to shot at him, "Mr G, you can't do that. You can't hit people. Stop it right now!"

The words only caused him to react more violently. He fought harder and with strength that you would have thought a dying man did not posses.

Then I began to see the reason for his fear. I got an idea. It was a small idea. I wondered if it was going to work. I thought it was a long shot but I had to try.

I made my way over to his bed, I slid my hand into his. Immediately, he took it and squeezed it tightly.

"Its all right, Mr G. You're alright. Its going to be fine. We just need to move you to a new bed. You're all right." I quietly said in his ear.

He held my hand is if it was his only life line to the familiar life he once knew. He squeezed my hand multiple times and with each squeeze, I could sense his fear and desperation.

After each squeeze he gave my hand, I would squeeze back. I could fell the calm spread over his body.

After a few seconds of hand squeezing, we were able to transfer him to the other bed and hook up our equipment to him. I could see his body relax and become more and more calm. The fear and desperation were now a thing of the past.

"You're going to be just fine, Mr G. Just fine. I am going to tie your hand back down, its just to remind you not to pull at your feeding tube."

I expected him to fight me. I expected him to begin to pull and thrash around again. But to my surprise he did not. He gave my hand one more big squeeze and then let go. It was as if he was saying, "I know, I am going to be alright."

There are many reasons that I became a nurse. But helping people and easing their pain and suffering is one of the big ones. Sometimes is take powerful medications, machines and tubes but other times all it takes it holding a hand.

Photo courtesy of Google Images

Children or Career: Could You Choose?

Writer's Workshop: What are you afraid of?

(Inspried by Life with Kaishon)

I am not one that follows current events. I don't watch the news. I barely read the newspaper. We do subscribe to our local paper but I usually just read the comics and then get rid of the rest. I really have no idea what is going on in the world.

When there is something major going on in the world, it usually leaks over in the blogosphere and then I definitely hear about it.

In fact that is where I heard about the story of Laura Ling and Euna Lee. They are two journalist who were captured and held as prisoners for allegedly crossing the North Korean/China border.

Well, today after 140 days they were released and sent back to the US. I only know this because someone blogged about it. If you are interested here is the whole story.

One of these women, Euna Lee, is a mother. When I first heard about this story, I was saddened and horrified that a country would just throw these women in a hard labor camp for 12 years without a trial or letting them explain themselves. Just lock them up and throw away the key. How could this be done to Americans but not just Americans, a mother.

But as I began to think about it more, I because angry with Lee for putting herself in a position to be imprisoned and therefore taken away from her daughter. I don't understand how a mother could put herself in such a risky position. Why would a mother take this kind of risk for her career?

This thought stuck with me.

I couldn't get it out of my head.

And then this thought struck a cord in my own life. In my chosen profession, I take these type of risks.* And it was not more apparent then on the day when a helicopter crashed on the roof of the hospital where I work.

Now before you get all worried and think that I have been through something horrific, I was not at work that day but I should have been. Just a few days before this happened, I had traded my shift that day with a co-worker. Thankfully, during this tragedy, no one was seriously injured and all turned out well.

But in times of a disaster, patients must still be cared for. Sometimes, especially in natural disasters, nurses and other hospital personal can't leave because replacements can't get to them or the conditions are too bad for people to get to the hospital. You have to stay and care for the patients no matter what, it doesn't matter how long you have been there. You must stay and care for the patients. You, as the nurse, are truly their life-line.

Even though, the crash turned out alright and staff was able to leave when they were scheduled, it could have been different.

I often think about the 'what ifs' during this time.

What if I had been working?
What if I was not able to leave because patients needed to be cared for?
What if I had been injured or worse?

All of these thoughts leave me with the thought that my chosen profession could leave my children without their mother.

Could I make the choice; career or children?

Do I already make this choice every time that I go to work? I don't know and that is something that I am afraid of.

Writer's Workshop is hosted by Mama Kat.

*I am in no way saying that my life or career is anything like what those women went through. I am sure that they had a horrific experience. This story just made me think and this post is just my thoughts on that matter.

When Real Life Mimics A TV Show.

This past Thursday night, the final episode of ER was on. I used to be a HUGE fan of the show. I watched it religiously in college. I would tune in week after week for the drama, my kind of drama. I loved the past pace of the ER and the adrenaline rush. I so wanted to work in the ER when I was finished with nursing school.


During nursing school, I actually got a job in a hospital in the Emergency Department and found that the show was nothing like the real deal. But I continued to watch the show.

As my nursing knowledge grew and I found my home in the ICU, I had to stop watching the show because the show is just plain wrong. While watching episodes, I would spend most of the show yelling back at the TV things like, "You can't do that!" "NO! Oh man that is so wrong." "You can't shock asystole." "Yeah, right like a doctor is going to do that!"

So when I read that the show was going to end (it is about time) I had to watch the last episode for old times sake. I have to say it was kind of a let down. The episode was not very good. The only thing it did was put me to bed way too late for having to get up early to go to work and give me dreams about bloody explosions all night long.

After a not so restful, short night of sleep, I got up and went to work on Friday. I was pleased to find out that my assignment at work consisted of 2 patients that were "easy." By that I mean, they were not super sick, they were alert, not on any life sustaining equipment, easy patients. It was going to be a good day.

So good in fact that I felt that I needed a donut and an other cup of coffee. I asked one of my lovely co-workers to keep an eye on my patients while I quickly ran off the unit to get coffee and donuts for us. As I ended my report to her about the patients I said some famous last words, "They should be fine and won't need a thing."

I turned and walked off the unit.

In the cafeteria, I got us some coffee, took my time in picking just the right donut with the right amount of chocolate dripping off the edges, paid and then walked back to the unit.

As the elevator opened, I heard and saw any nurse's worst fear. The code lights and alarms were going off from my patients room. I ran to the room and as I entered the room, the situation just went from bad to worse. It was so surreal that I thought for a moment that I was still dreaming. I thought that I was still in one of my ER show dreams from the night before. There was no way that this could have been happening.

(I am going to stop and spare you all the gory details but if there are some of my nurse readers that want to know just ask and I will email you.)

As people rushed past me and orders were given, my co-workers and I began to function as a true team just as seen on the show. This was one of the only things that the show portrayed correctly. The teamwork and collaboration between everyone when it comes to saving a life.

I am not sad that the show ER is over. I really don't need to watch it because in a small sense I have lived it many, many times.

I love being a Critical Care RN. I can't see myself doing anything else. I have been in some pretty horrific situations but I have also been in some pretty awesome ones. I get the pleasure of working with some of the most amazing people, people that I would trust the lives of my loved ones with or my own life.

So, so long ER. You will not be missed at least by me. I have something much better than any TV drama, the real thing, the ICU.

A Real Pain In My Butt

I got the chance to go to an all day nursing conference. I just love going to nursing conferences. I feel empowered and renewed after being at one of these conferences.

They help me remember why I wanted to be a nurse and the power that I hold to help some one. I relearn what an important and the critical role the nurse plays in health care. It is just amazing. It makes me love my nursing career all over again.

But even though my nursing spirit is renewed and my mind refreshed there is one part of my body that is not so happy. One part of my body that just aches. It is my tush, fanny, booty or what every you call it, my BUTT!

Why is my butt so sore? Well because for eight hours I had to sit in one of these.Now I know it looks just like an ordinary every day hotel banquet chair and for all tense and purposes it is. It does a good job fulfilling its purpose as a place to sit. But after a couple hours it begins to feel like a rock hard stone chair. My booty could not take it any more.
So I tried to shift and sit on my left thigh and butt cheek.
No good.
I tried the other way, right thigh and butt cheek.
No good.
I tried to sit center, both cheeks flat on the seat.
No good.
I tried to cross my legs.
No good.
I tried to uncross my legs.
No good.
I tried to sit on one leg.
No good.
I tried to sit sideways.
No good. No good. No good.

And after few more hours that chair just became unsitable and by the end of the day, there is just no amount of fidgeting or shifting, no amount of extra padding that will make that chair any better.

My butt was done, I tell you, DONE! What is a girl to do when your butt just refuses to sit?

Faked a potty break. I got up an walked around for a few minutes and wishfully yearned over the comfy couch that was sitting across the lobby taunting me. Then I walked back to my torture device, I mean chair, and sat down on my very angry butt until the lecture was over.

So, well I remember at one point in time being refreshed and renew in my nursing career, I now only remember the pain in my ass.