Ahh, yes. The glorious time has fallen upon me. The day my husband has dreamed of since he laid eyes on my first unemployment cheque and said out loud, "Is that it?". Time to return to the land of the living and start earning my keep around the Byrne Residence once again. It's time to get back to work.
I hopped out of bed this morning (after hitting the snooze only twice, and after a swift elbow shot to the ribs by my ever loving husband), and sashayed into the ensuite to beautify myself for my ensuing first 12 hour shift since May of 2011.
I addressed the situation that was my hair after a humid night and washed my face. I even went so far as to apply some eye shadow in the hopes that my beautiful les yeux would distract from the fact that I was shitbaked and couldn't remember an effing thing. "Today is going to be awesome", I told myself.
I donned my nursing uniform that I was supplied with by my unit when I started there at 24 weeks pregnant. While the top was a medium and did ok, the pants were a whole other story. I had chosen large to accommodate my growing belly at the time. Now, 50 lbs lighter, with the waist band rolled up about 5 times, the crotch was still down to my knees and if I had just grabbed a bandanna, a couple of chains and a spray tan, I would have resembled Missy Elliot in a scrub top. Super hot and professional looking. Now I was really glad about the eye shadow. Hopefully it would also distract from the fact that my nursing uniform was reminiscent of a pair of hammer pants without the elastic ankles. I'm so wicked.
I went downstairs only to realize that the power had gone out at some point throughout the night and it was actually five minutes later than what I thought. I poured an enormous mug of coffee down my throat, kissed the hubbs and hit the road.
I was excited to find a parking spot that was only a short ten minute walk from the hospital (as opposed to a ten minute cab ride - the parking situation is ridiculous where I work), and even managed to get in there a few minutes ahead of schedule with only minor heart palpitations from sprinting across the lot. What a time! I was cosigned with a great nurse who really knows her stuff, and then the shit hit the fan.
I couldn't remember a damn thing. I just spent the last 12 hours of my life feeling like a total moron. My cosigned nurse was really good, but when you can barely remember how to do something so simple as cosign doctor's orders, you know it's probably time to head back to remedial nursing school. I thought I was going to get my degree revoked and be stripped of my title right there in the middle of the unit today. The first day back to work after maternity leave is a cruel, cruel day.
If I didn't work in such a confidential setting, I could regale you all with tales of my mishaps, however then I would be fired. Therefore, as entertaining as it would be, it would be not so much a time if the wrong employee stumbled upon my blog. Then I would have to write a new blog called "A Guide to Surviving Breaching Confidentiality and Losing Your Job and Soliciting Your Post-Baby Body for Half Price to Support Your Young Family".
On top of all this, I absolutely did NOT pack enough food to get me through a 12 hour shift. I must have lost that skill in the past year as well. By 6:00, if a Unicef child that had flies on it's face had come to me and told me how hungry they were, my answer would have been, "I know how you feel", and it would have been an honest answer.
Thankfully as well as having a great cosigned nurse, I also had great patients who went easy on me today. I'm hoping that tomorrow I don't end up sobbing in a corner somewhere while simultaneously trying to sneak narcotics to ease my never ending feeling of complete and total embarrassment. Is there a worse feeling than feeling like an idiot? I'm sure there is, but it's still not great, I'll tell you that for free. Maybe I'll feel better if I could just get some pants that fit. Honest to God, I could smuggle a family of refugees in the crotch of those puppies...
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