F is for Friday! Five days late. Yep. I still haven't caught up. Getting behind just one day in the A2Z Blogging Challenge can snowball out of control.
Friday was an interesting day. I usually refer to Friday as Dump Day. It's the day most of the providers seem to favor for discharging the patients. My Ward has the highest patient flow any day of the week, and Friday's are no exception.
Part of my job is to foresee potential roadbkocks to discharge and fix them. Even when I ask point blank questions, and I'm given point blank answers, curve balls still manage to be pitched at me every discharge day of the week. Especially Friday. Although, since I've been preemptively striking the most common roadblocks, the average length of stay on my Ward had dropped dramatically.
This past Friday, for once, everything fell into place beautifully. No curve balls. No surprises. It was a good thing. It was my B12 Friday.
Once a month I have to have a B12 injection. I could self-administer them; however, I choose to use sick leave and schedule it at the end of the workday on the First Friday of the month. That way, at least once a month I am assured of leaving work at a decent time. Because the sheer volume of work is so heavy, I almost always work an hour or more over-time every day. Actually, anything less than 2 or 3 hours overtime still feels like a short day.
Friday was a First Friday and we were cookin' with gas. The puzzle peices were clicking into place. As Tony the Tiger says, it was a "grrrreat day!"
Until 10:45 am.
That's when we have our daily Interdisiplany Team Meeting. During IDT the various disciplines discuss the progress of each patient, the road blocks to care and discharge disposition, and predict more formal discharge dates.
Last Friday it all ground to a screeching halt when my favorite doctor and I could not seem to communicate. She asked how to accomplish a specific task over the weekend, with limited weekend resources. I told her what to do. She did not want to do it. I reiterated the process. She again voiced resistance. Finally, I decided to allow her to attempt it her way and I stopped talking. When I stop talking, everyone knows I'm not pleased.
Later in the day, just before I left for my B12, my doc came to me, took me by the hand, and asked if we were okay. I reassured her were were fine. She noted my red-rimed eyes and said, "But I've upset you--you've been crying."
And because I am my Prankster-Mothers Daughter, I commenced to wailing and sobbing.
There is the tiniest of possibilities that I was overly dramatic.
Okay, I laid it on so thick people came to The Swamp Room to see if I was okay. I talked it up a good 30 seconds, and would have kept it up, but her looks of horror caused me to have mercy. I'm not sure if the hooer was a result of my acting, or she believed me.
"Its allergies." I confessed through my giggles.
The result: My Doc and I are still good. She attempted to accomplish her weekend goal her way, and while she was eventually successful, it was at a much higher cost of time and frustration expended than if she had just done as I had suggested.
And, while I worked half an hour into my sick leave, I finished all my tasks and made it to my First Friday B12 injection just before the end of the day. Which meant I was able to make it to my hair appointment by 5:45--well before I normally get to leave work on a "normal overtime until 6 or 7 pm" day.
Yep. Last week, Friday was a grrrreat day. And I'm expecting another great day. Everyday!
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