As it turns out,

nursing management is not all papers and telling people what to do.

Okay, yes, there are a lot of papers. And a lot of statistics and number-juggling, and a lot of writing and organizing and transcribing and communicating in general. But it also means that even though you have to sit through two-and-a-half-hour meetings, you don’t get a free pass out of holding emesis bags and moving furniture.

Huh. How bout I start this over?

I should start with the same thing my day did: a meeting.

The meeting where we discovered that the hospital was out of beds today.

Wait, you say. Out of beds? Aren’t hospitals basically made of beds? Can’t they just chip some bedstuff off the wall and strew it on the floor to serve as a gurney?

Sadly, no. And when the hospital is out of beds, surgery does not stop. So PACU piled up and piled up and piled up and….

….and Monica had to go to another meeting, so she left me alone in the old angiography-recovery-room-turned-storage-cave, where everything unwanted had been stashed for a YEAR.

So, you know. I cleaned it. Because that’s what I do, when the pressure is on. I clean things. I was a custodian once and sometimes the sight of a burly dude wrestling a roto down the middle of a hallway fills me with a sweet nostalgia, like the remembered scent of floor-wax fumes.

It wasn’t even that bad of a job. I’m not as wussy as I thought I’d be, and it felt good to lift chairs over my head again.

That’s not to say I survived the second meeting. It went on for one thousand years and all my internal organs were displaced by my increasingly way-too-full bladder and I literally could not keep my eyes open even though I was making eye contact with the nursing supervisor, who was talking directly to me.

Finally, two hours in, I excused myself and went to the bathroom and locked the door and did my business and washed up, and then I climbed up on the vanity and propped my head against the cabinet and fell asleep. For like ten minutes. Oops.

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