Returned to work last night after a long four-day weekend. One of my first patients of the evening was an elderly female in severe respiratory distress brought from home by EMS after the daughter called 911. Now, I'm no fan of nursing homes (one "accidentally" resuscitated my DNR grandmother), but this woman was clearly not getting the care she needed from her daughter. Covered in feces, dehydrated, and wearing a urine-soaked gown, this poor old lady could barely breathe. We cleaned and buffed her up before sending her upstairs, all while the daughter talked about how she used to be in the "medical profession."
Drug Seeking Asshole also celebrated my return by making a special guest appearance last night. In our previous encounter, when he found that I could not in fact write him for Oxy, he wished that I'd go to the war and get killed in the first five minutes. This time, he merely tried to spit at me whenever I passed by.
It felt good to be back.
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