Bring Your Own Calculator, in case there was any doubt over that last letter.
You haven't quite experienced fun until you've been told to solve the following problem:
"The doctor orders 1500 ml of D5W q 12 h. The doctor also orders erythromycin 500 mg in 50 ml D5W IVPB to infuse over 30 minutes q 8 h. The stock supply is erythromycin 1 gram vial. The directions say to reconstitute with 4.8 ml of sterile water to yield 5 ml. The drop factor of each IV is 15 gtts/ml.
A) How many ml of erythromycin will you add to the IVPB?
B) Calculate the flow rate of the IVPB in gtts/min.
C) Calculate the flow rate of the main IV in ml/h.
D) How many grams of erythromycin will the patient receive in 24 hours?
*facepalm*
I am eagerly awaiting the time in my education and career when these types of "orders" become second-nature, and do not require every iota of my brain's concentration to deliver the appropriate therapy to a patient. I'm sure that day will come, but today, it seems further away than the year 3000.
And with that, I'm off to find out the answers to all of those questions. I sure hope my calculator doesn't start smoking...
Wednesday, January 27, 2010
Sunday, January 10, 2010
TCC
Last Monday, I entered into my second volunteer foray here in Austin with The Care Communities. Two of my friends, Sharon and Jessica, are also volunteering with me; in fact, Sharon was the one who was responsible for finding the ad for the organization on Craigslist. So thanks, Sharon!
TCC, in a nutshell, sounds like something that could be a life-altering experience, to put it mildly. Based out of Austin for the last 19 years, it is an organization of Care Teams (any number of people can be on a team) who are each assigned to a Care Partner. The Care Partner is an Austinite who happens to be living with a terminal illness. Currently, the organization serves primarily the AIDS and cancer community. CTs give a minimum of one hour of time per week to assist their CP in pretty straightforward tasks: cooking meals, mowing the grass, cleaning the house, transport to and from doctors appointments, etc. In most cases, as it is my understanding, the CP is either limited in their ability to do these things, or can not do them at all.
Sharon, Jess and I went for our orientation session last Monday and met with the volunteer coordinator, who described himself as having been a Catholic priest in a former life (which was totally intriguing for Sharon and me, who were both raised Catholic). He was a very even and soft-spoken man; the kind of guy that you'd want to have around when the world seems to be spinning out of control, and you've nothing left to hang on to.
One of the items that we covered in the orientation session seemed sort of silly, but we had to go around in a circle (OK, semi-circle, since it was only the three of us) and explain who we were, where we were from, and why we were interested in TCC.
The self-serving answer for each of us is that this type of volunteer experience looks pretty good on applications to nursing and medical school (Sharon and I are applying to nursing schools soon, and Jess is establishing residency down here to enter medical school). None of us was so brash to say this of course, but we'd all talked about how difficult it was to get a volunteer gig at a local hospital (which would have been our top choice, I think), and this seemed like a good plan B.
I'm reminded of applying to be a docent at AMOA, when it was all about doing andything and everything to get into the UT Art History department. I figured that a stint as a docent would, at most, be another bullet point on my curriculum vitae, or perhaps another good letter of recommendation from someone in the local art community. Someone that could pull some strings, you know.
As is often with volunteering, I find myself thinking some days about how much I, the volunteer, have gotten out of my experience as a docent. Aside from getting to see world-class art up-close, aside from getting to meet and talk to renowned artists, aside from getting plugged in to the Austin art realm, I've also gotten the hugely rewarding experience of being molded by little school kids. I've never really been a huge kid person - they're cute, don't get me wrong, but they've just never grown on me - but I think the museum has greatly changed that. Kids are fresh and creative and uninhibited and truthful and courageous and desperately attention-seeking and approval-desiring. They are sensitive and energetic and colourful little people. They are, I now think, humanity at its best.
So with this new volunteer gig, I find myself wondering how this experience - another vain attempt to get accepted into an academic program - will alter ME. It certainly isn't all about me (far from it, in fact), but I can't help but believe that I will be changed by this.
An honest admission would be for me to put out into the universe that getting involved with TCC scares me to my core. I am afraid that I will clam up when meeting my CP. I am afraid that my personality will not mesh with theirs. I worry that I might not be able to bring some sunshine into their world. I worry that I will feel uncomfortable, and will be weighted down with the gravity of their illness.
I also worry that I will form a relationship with this person that will, inevitably, teach me about myself. I worry that I might grow to love this person as a friend. I worry that I will be challenged, emotionally, when caring unconditionally for another human being. And I worry desperately that I will be horribly, irrevocably crushed when my CP "graduates," as TCC calls it.
One of the other reasons that I wanted to volunteer was to, in plain terms, become comfortable with the idea and process of people dying. When my uncle John passed away this summer, to say that I had a hard time with it would be very tongue-in-cheek. Despite all the promise and hope and glory of what I know waits for me when I "graduate," I'm very much like most other people - really uncomfortable with the notion of dying.
I think that TCC will give me a different glimpse into a process that I feel I will NEED to become comfortable with as a nurse. Perhaps I don't have to be comfortable with it, even, but I do need to be accepting of it being a part of life, ironically.
There's a wonderful video on the TCC website that highlights their volunteer program, and two of the CPs that they serve. The gentleman in the film, who suffers from AIDS, says something along the lines of how he has been able to do a lot more living, and a lot less dying, thanks to TCC.
I can see how there is the potential for a volunteer to feel the same way.
TCC, in a nutshell, sounds like something that could be a life-altering experience, to put it mildly. Based out of Austin for the last 19 years, it is an organization of Care Teams (any number of people can be on a team) who are each assigned to a Care Partner. The Care Partner is an Austinite who happens to be living with a terminal illness. Currently, the organization serves primarily the AIDS and cancer community. CTs give a minimum of one hour of time per week to assist their CP in pretty straightforward tasks: cooking meals, mowing the grass, cleaning the house, transport to and from doctors appointments, etc. In most cases, as it is my understanding, the CP is either limited in their ability to do these things, or can not do them at all.
Sharon, Jess and I went for our orientation session last Monday and met with the volunteer coordinator, who described himself as having been a Catholic priest in a former life (which was totally intriguing for Sharon and me, who were both raised Catholic). He was a very even and soft-spoken man; the kind of guy that you'd want to have around when the world seems to be spinning out of control, and you've nothing left to hang on to.
One of the items that we covered in the orientation session seemed sort of silly, but we had to go around in a circle (OK, semi-circle, since it was only the three of us) and explain who we were, where we were from, and why we were interested in TCC.
The self-serving answer for each of us is that this type of volunteer experience looks pretty good on applications to nursing and medical school (Sharon and I are applying to nursing schools soon, and Jess is establishing residency down here to enter medical school). None of us was so brash to say this of course, but we'd all talked about how difficult it was to get a volunteer gig at a local hospital (which would have been our top choice, I think), and this seemed like a good plan B.
I'm reminded of applying to be a docent at AMOA, when it was all about doing andything and everything to get into the UT Art History department. I figured that a stint as a docent would, at most, be another bullet point on my curriculum vitae, or perhaps another good letter of recommendation from someone in the local art community. Someone that could pull some strings, you know.
As is often with volunteering, I find myself thinking some days about how much I, the volunteer, have gotten out of my experience as a docent. Aside from getting to see world-class art up-close, aside from getting to meet and talk to renowned artists, aside from getting plugged in to the Austin art realm, I've also gotten the hugely rewarding experience of being molded by little school kids. I've never really been a huge kid person - they're cute, don't get me wrong, but they've just never grown on me - but I think the museum has greatly changed that. Kids are fresh and creative and uninhibited and truthful and courageous and desperately attention-seeking and approval-desiring. They are sensitive and energetic and colourful little people. They are, I now think, humanity at its best.
So with this new volunteer gig, I find myself wondering how this experience - another vain attempt to get accepted into an academic program - will alter ME. It certainly isn't all about me (far from it, in fact), but I can't help but believe that I will be changed by this.
An honest admission would be for me to put out into the universe that getting involved with TCC scares me to my core. I am afraid that I will clam up when meeting my CP. I am afraid that my personality will not mesh with theirs. I worry that I might not be able to bring some sunshine into their world. I worry that I will feel uncomfortable, and will be weighted down with the gravity of their illness.
I also worry that I will form a relationship with this person that will, inevitably, teach me about myself. I worry that I might grow to love this person as a friend. I worry that I will be challenged, emotionally, when caring unconditionally for another human being. And I worry desperately that I will be horribly, irrevocably crushed when my CP "graduates," as TCC calls it.
One of the other reasons that I wanted to volunteer was to, in plain terms, become comfortable with the idea and process of people dying. When my uncle John passed away this summer, to say that I had a hard time with it would be very tongue-in-cheek. Despite all the promise and hope and glory of what I know waits for me when I "graduate," I'm very much like most other people - really uncomfortable with the notion of dying.
I think that TCC will give me a different glimpse into a process that I feel I will NEED to become comfortable with as a nurse. Perhaps I don't have to be comfortable with it, even, but I do need to be accepting of it being a part of life, ironically.
There's a wonderful video on the TCC website that highlights their volunteer program, and two of the CPs that they serve. The gentleman in the film, who suffers from AIDS, says something along the lines of how he has been able to do a lot more living, and a lot less dying, thanks to TCC.
I can see how there is the potential for a volunteer to feel the same way.
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