Waiting for today...: Friday the 29th: Bananas, Rice, Applesauce, Toast

"In plain English, stress early in life makes us more vulnerable to stress la...

"In plain English, stress early in life makes us more vulnerable to stress later in life. The evidence for this can be seen in multiple physiological an... - Nyawela Gianna - Google+

Wednesday, February 24

Friday the 29th: Bananas, Rice, Applesauce, Toast



I’ve been pleasantly worn down and out since we’ve begun this new workflow: moving the emergency department case managers to the hospital to do discharge planning in effort to improve the length of stay.  Pleasantly because I’m able to to put my new found confidence to better use in the discharge planning peice of case management, also known as care coordination.  Nonetheless, worn.  Which, if I’m not careful, leads to tired to exhaustion to the brink of the pit.  Thankfully our hours haven’t changed.  We’re still on for twelve hours and because I’ve been coming in earlier--8 am--I get to leave at 8:30 pm.  


I wouldn’t have dreamed that I’d be happy to report to work earlier.  That’s less sleep!   But it works for me.  Weird.  What I’ve found is, I begin to toss and turn between 4 and 5 am.  If  make it back to sleep between 6:00 am and 6:30 am, that’s exactly when I need to be up anyway to make it to work between 7:30 and 8:00 am.  Soooo why so early?  Effective discharge planning requires a thorough assessment and chart review.  Coming in cold I need, maybe no one else does, but I need about 2 hours to look through 12 to 16 charts to see what I need to do for the day, what I need to plan for the next day and what has possibly been missed that I should do to avoid a premature or delay in discharge.  Basically… I just need to know shit.  


Where was I? ... Ah, yes!  


I’m being a brat today because my inability to say “no” has once again bit me in the arse. Unable to place blame anywhere else I’ve regressed to toddlerhood and am now literally sitting at my computer waiting for 8:30, with an attitude and a sour face, irritable as fuck and losing a marble every time my phone rings.  My sack is getting empty.  Why do I allow people to make their problems my own?  “You need me to work for you so that your paid annual leave hours don’t flow into your sick hours so you can have enough to go on your vacation next week?  The second one this year?”   


It’s a problem I wish I had.  Instead of persistent depression that requires me to be careful not to over do anything, because it leads to tired to exhaustion to the brink of the pit.  While people say they understand, they don’t really.  They haven’t a clue what it means to “understand” mental illness.  The words “I” and “understand” together are becoming more and more meaningless to me with each mood swing I have.  But do I even understand?  I mean if I did I wouldn’t have pushed myself.  I would’ve said “no” and be every bit justified.  No guilt.  No regrets.  Just piece of mind knowing I’ve added one more thing to the things-I’ve-done-to-take-care-of-myself-today list.  


But such is self-stigma.

No.  I didn’t have any stomach related illnesses today that requires me to be on a B.R.A.T. diet which stands for bananas, rice, applesauce or toast.  I am an actual a brat right now.  And will be until I get to go home.  Humph!