A rant about my house, the universe and everything

I have saved up all my stress this week to deposit here. I'd get out while you still can, frankly. My head is not a good place to be right now.

If Britain had a bigger gun culture the world would be now be short two electricians, a hoard of builders, a roofer and a plumber.

Seriously, what the hell is wrong with people? If you tell me you will ring me, or come round and give me a quote, then DO IT, FOR FUCKS SAKE. Otherwise I get angry and want to hunt you down and find an alternate use for your nailgun.

The boiler is in. It's not working, but it's in. It keeps dropping pressure, so either we have a leak and the floor - the new floor that got badly laid by some dodgy cunts about a month ago - will have to come up, or the boiler itself is faulty. I'm not conviced it's a leak, since I think we'd notice 7/8 litres of water appearing somewhere every time we turned it on. I hope.

We need an electrician to fit a new consumer unit and wire the broken boiler into the mains and move some sockets. Two electricians have fucked us over so far. The one who did turn up seems decent, but he will also have to pull up some flooring to bond the stopcock to the blah blah blah, cause the builders who fitted the kitchen didn't do it properly the first time. Cocks. So we might have to take out some kitchen units to do that.

We needed a roofer to fix the big hole in the roof where the flue for the boiler has been installed. The first one just didn't turn up. We finally got it done by a fella down the road...the day after the torrential downpour finally stopped.

And the plumber is ok really, but the bastard is going on honeymoon next week, so if the boiler isn't fixed by then then we're either going to have no hot water for a fortnight or probably pay to get another plumber to have a go.

Anyway, on top of this I am working 8 shifts in a row to pay for the robbing bastards. I have also started taking a new pill that has given me morning sickness, period pains, a four day (and counting) headache and the desire to bawl like a baby every time someone speaks to me. Placement even took pity on me and sent me home early after watching me struggle not to burst into tears for the fourth time when someone asked me how I was. Which also made me want to cry. I'm hoping it will settle down soon.

I have been coping using a combination of alcohol and chocolate biscuits, since my usual spending money option is not currently available, vis a vis stupid expensive workmen.

And I'm on nights tonight. Usually I wouldn't even be awake at this time on my days off, but when I want to sleep late - so I'm not dangerously tired at 3am tomorrow - I'm up at the crack of dawn. Well, 9am. Sucks.

Ok, rant over. I'm going to find something to knock me out for a couple of hours...

Signed but not sealed...

My mentor for this placement has signed me off as being competent. Now all I have to do is have a question and answer session with him and my mentor from the uni and I will have passed the placement. The Q&A is happening on Friday, which is my last day.

I'm relieved, in a way, because I get to go back to doing three days a week at uni. I can start doing more bank shifts and actually make some money. Also, one thing I've found as a student, is that I'm always a little bit on edge. You feel like you are being watched...which of course you are...and it makes it hard to really relax into the job. Because you do treat it like a job, except that you usually get to take your breaks as a student, to make up for not having any for the next 40 years. When you are qualified, you have superiors watching over you in a vague kinda way, but they aren't stood scruitinising you when you pot up medication and they don't have to read all your notes/care plans/reports etc and sign off on them.

But I'll be sad to go, too. I've had both the best and worst days of my nursing career so far in this placement, and the staff - with the exception of the psychotic ward manager, and even she's mellowed slightly - have been fantastic. I've already done my last shifts with a few of them and it's been a bit emotional. I've gotton lots of hugs and been told I'll do well, which is nice. I'll also miss the patients. Some of them in this context, but a lot of them in a good way. I wish every one of them the best.

So, it's not quite over yet, but barring any huge screwups the end is in sight. Then I have one more assignment to hand in, and I'm a third year.

Crap.

If only...

This is how I'm spending the evening. And eating ice lollies.

I'm still stressed with the house etc but sick of talking about it, so I will be burying my head in some sand until it's resolved. Please God it won't be much longer. Sublimating my urge to kill is giving me a headache...

Completely and utterly non-mental health related.

Just because it makes me happy.

:0)

Plug plug plug

Just to start off with a shameless plug, I've finally gotten round to doing another post over on Mental Nurse. It's about acute wards. I was drunk when I wrote it, but I think that just made me more honest...

The rest of the post is going to be me whinging about my life, so if you were hoping for something more mental health based then I'd run away now.

Ok, so the boiler that was going to take three days to install is now at a week and counting. Apparently our system was more complicated than it should have been. What a freaking surprise. I'm pretty sure the bloke who built the house was wasted on laudanum or something. So we have no hot water but an abundance of dust. At least my hacking cough (solder fumes) and sneezing fits (frickin dust has impregnated my clothes) mean people are keeping their distance from me in public. Coming home after work has never been so depressing, and we still need to get a roofer to fix the hole in the roof the plumber made by sticking a flue through it, and an electrician to wire the boiler into the mains. Mr Door is at breaking point and I'm somewhat worried he might be about to go on a rampage, if he doesn't have a heart attack first. He has just had a huge shouting and bawling rant because the plumber appears to have stolen our mop bucket. He's now planning to hold the plumbers stepladders hostage until he returns the bucket. The bucket cost £1.99.

The plumber has also been bringing a 13 year old lad along with him (a family friend, apparently) to let him learn the trade and keep him out from under his mothers feet during the holidays. The child is very strange; spookily polite to me and Mr Door, but very blokey with the plumber. He also sings to himself quite a lot and is usually weilding some sort of power tool. On Friday I came home and found the kid firing up a blow torch in my living room. I've never been so scared in my life.

As mental health professionals, we have of course been finding appropriate outlets for our stress. Namely, drinking and shopping. We've found that drinking so much that everything goes blurry makes the house look less disgusingly dirty. And shopping is just the answer to everything. Thanks to the wonders of the internet, it is now also easy to combine the two and shop whilst drunk. I've found myself buying some of the books I enjoyed as a kid...am sure there's something to be read into there regarding regressing to a happier, less responsible time. I've never needed escapism so badly.

On the bright side, only two weeks of placement left, then I have three weeks off...to decorate...and do an assignment...and go and earn some money to pay off the plumber....hmm.

Donations of vodka greatly appreciated.

Going slightly buggy

Well, my "full week off" didn't last long. Almost as soon as I posted my last post work rang and bullied persuaded me to do a night shift on Sunday. Alas, I had no good excuse prepared and the lure of some dirty money proved too much. So after a very nice few days away I found myself plunged back into the world of mental women. I am starting to miss working with men, actually, but unfortunately no-one else is willing to work on the womens ward so I pretty much live on there being as how I'm skint and can't afford to be fussy. Anyway, it was a quiet shift.

We currently have a patient who is about 5'10 and about 18 stone. She has a personality disorder and is borderline learning disabled. It takes 9 staff to restrain her when she kicks off, which she does frequently; in fact when she's not trying to kill herself by ligaturing or swallowing pens she's usually braying hell out of staff. She writes pretty good poems about people she wants to kill. Luckily (?) she has taken a shine to me and spent the night trying to hold my hand, stroke my arm and be generally flirty with me. Being far too shit-scared of her to try and make her stop, I instead ended up hiding in the office for a couple of hours.

In any event, I couldn't really risk upsetting anyone as I was still hungover from Saturday and the best I would have managed in a restraint situation would have been to vomit copiously over the entire 3-(or 9-) man team.

I haven't been that hungover for a long time, generally being a bit of an alcohol wuss. But it had been my friends birthday and she had had a party at her house, and there was punch and much, much vodka. I had to get drunk because I hate social situations at the best of times and this one was populated with the kind of people I can't talk to: Council Girls. By this I mean girls who work for the council, of course. The were all wearing leggings and '80s style tops, with big dangly earrings. They had makeup and fake tan by the trowel-load and were immaculately coiffeured. I'm sure they were lovely people, but young female office workers who put that much effort into their appearance are not usually keen to hear traditional nursey stories, ie. those that tend to end "and then his blood/vomit/urine went in my eye/mouth/up my nose". And once you are in a career that means you play a centre role in those kind of stories, gossip about Mark from Accounting doesn't quite hold your interest in the same way as people getting wee'd on. It's really just two entirely different worlds that are probably destined to always misunderstand and/or be faintly disgusted by each other. Anyway, I got very drunk and hid at the back with the geeky IT people and talked about the American healthcare system. I think I got a bit loud on occasion, and apparently the Office Girls are less enamoured of the word 'cunt' than I am judging by the dirty looks I got. It was fun :o)

So I managed 2 hours sleep this morning before the man came to fit the boiler and starting tearing my freshly repaired house to bits. And now I've had more vodka and am in that slightly manic phase you get to when you've had no significant sleep for several days and you can see things climbing the walls when you aren't looking.

Ahem.

Probably time for bed.

Freeeeedom!

I finally have a week off. It will actually be at least a full week this time, because no matter how many times work ring me I actually can't go in due to having actual, proper plans. We're off to visit Mr Door's mum for a few days, so there will be about 300 miles between me and the unit. It's nice to have a good excuse, because I really need the money and so would end up working even though it would probably cripple me. Last time I had time off was easter, and I still did a couple of shifts then. I am seriously in need of a break.

Placement this week has been very busy. Lots of admissions, lots of people who need a lot of input, hardly any staff. We've had some really interesting patients in, and some that I've wanted to slap. There was one I thought Evil Manager might actually slap, but clearly the thought of being sued again was lurking in her mind. I'm still enjoying it, but I'm glad to get away for a bit.

I only have a few weeks left when I go back, then I have some more lovely holidays before starting third year. I get palpitations when I think about that though, so I won't. I have an assignment to do, which I'm going to do after this week. Still waiting to hear if I can swap to the degree; if I can't, then at least I will be better off financially. Just got the bursary info for the diploma for next year, we got a £12 per month raise. Wohoo :o) If I save it up for three months I could maybe buy a textbook. Of course, due to the cock up on the uni's part, there is a chance that I might not be on the course for much longer, but if they get rid of me they will have to get rid of half the cohort. And I will be getting the union involved...

So, it will be quiet round here for the next week (not that it's been a hive of activity recently anyway) whilst I have a holiday from the crazy. I would actually like a holiday from people in general; am a bit overwhelmed by having been with people every day. I get claustrophobic when there are too many about, and with it being the summer holidays and working five shifts a week, it feels like there's people everywhere. I need to go shopping now, for example, but am wittering on here in order to delay my departure into the throng.

I guess I could do some packing for a while....

See you all in a week :o)

Things that shouldn't happen when you're a student

Number 1:

If there are three staff on an acute ward, two of them should not go off to have a 20 minute fag together leaving the other one, who is pregnant and still in her preceptorship, alone with 15 patients and a student.

I would report them to the ward manager, but she was one of the ones that went off.

Ho hum.

As you can probably, tell, I've chilled out a bit. This state may not last though, since Mr Door has a new flash for his camera and is blinding me with it repeatedly....

God-freakin-damnit (contains strong language and very little content)

Just.....ARGGGHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH.

I can't actually scream, because Mr Door is in bed.

But I'm feeling really fucking irritable, I've hurt my back lifting a sackful of CRAP and the Uni is talking out of their collective fucking arse again about something they have fucked up and are blaming me for. And the person I need to sort it is on holiday.

So.

ARGGGHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH.

Oh, and I want to punch the internet, because I'm sick of pages taking forever to load because of the fucking ADVERTS.

Fuckers.

How time flies...

Sorry things have been a bit quiet round here, I've been on nights at my placement and haven't really been awake enough to post anything at any point. People find it strange that I do nights on placement, but we have to do a week of night shifts during the three years training and I figured I best get them in now while I have the chance. They've gone ok, although it might take me a while to get used to actually working on a night shift, as opposed to sitting watching DVD's. I did an entire admission at midnight earlier this week, and spent hours typing up the core assessment/risk assessment and care plans. It's the first time I've done it all independently (with my mentor checking it over at the end, of course) and I was pretty pleased with how it went. It helped that it was an 'easy' admission though; an informal, non-psychotic patient with no cognitive deficits who could provide plenty of background info. Pretty much the ideal patient for your first admission, and definitely what you need if you have to do it at midnight...


In other news, the house now has a floor, and laminate, and less damp. It is still awaiting the new boiler (which is sat in the living room like a big expensive lump) and blinds, and electric sockets, and paint. And probably lots of other expensive stuff. I've kinda given up worrying about the cost; once you've committed to a certain amount of spending, it's easy to just keep going. Who needs savings?