One of the few physical advantages of the over-50 body is its ability to say No to excesses---of food and drink, of stress, of too many long, hard shifts in a row. It's only when respecting those limits conflicts with the reality of nursing, where self-sacrifice is often the order of the day, that guilt rears its ugly little noggin and gives rise to the sort of discomfort I'm feeling right now.
I just came off a three-day stretch of shifts from The Bad Place that I can't even blame on a full moon. My LTC facility, which was scrambling to keep staff on only two weeks ago due to low census, is experiencing a huge influx of new admits; naturally, many of the nurses and aides whose hours were cut have taken other jobs or are on vacation, so getting staffing back up to accommodate our larger population has been dicey at best, and downright frightening at worst. On top of that, we've had a rash of UTIs on my unit recently, which makes life hell for all concerned: the affected residents tend to come completely off the spool and they start hallucinating, falling out of bed, howling at the moon, and generally freaking out. Loads of fun for all...especially the nurse who has to write an average of five incident reports in a given shift.
So it was with a great deal of relief that I pried my shoes from my screaming feet late last night, knowing I had two days off to recuperate before having to face it all again. Or so I thought.
The first call came around noon; since I have only a cell phone, I guard my privacy and don't answer if I don't recognize the number. I checked the voicemail; it was from my DNS, who must have been using her own cell phone or a private office number. Seems there'd been a call-in, and would I consider coming in to work if I could be assigned to my own unit?
Now, there are two schools of thought when it comes to phone calls from work on a nurse's off days. I've been in management, and I KNOW how hard it is to find staff on such short notice, and I used to hate it when I called staff and no one would call back. On the other hand, I'm not management anymore, and my time off is---or should be---mine to do with as I choose. Today, I chose to pretend my phone was off.
The second call came around four PM; this time it was one of the resident care managers, who sounded totally desperate. (I remember that feeling.) Turned out the call-in had come from the nurse who had been gone for over a month on one family emergency, returned during the low census and gotten her pick of shifts due to her seniority; now she had another family crisis and had to take off for parts unknown yet again...for how long, no one knows.
I'm probably going to Hell for this, but...at that point, I was no longer pretending the phone was off. I turned it off.
First of all, I'm sort of disgusted. I had to step aside and work a section I neither like nor am familiar with so this nurse could have my unit when she came back, even though I am the primary evening nurse for that unit. The residents, aides, and families were all unhappy about it, but none of that mattered because she had seniority.
Then there is the nine days' vacation I have coming up in less than a week, which I badly need to renew and refresh myself. I already know it's probably not going to happen without a fight. I also know that if I'd gone in tonight, they'd have pressured me to work tomorrow night and the Fourth of July as well. I'm scheduled for four shifts between now and the 6th, which would have made what, ten straight? I'm sorry, but I'm only good at what I do because I have adequate time away from it. I learned that lesson the hard way during that last management job. As it is, the past couple of weeks have been very difficult due to the fact that staffing in all areas of the building has not kept up with the increasing census; we are still doing housekeeping's AND dietary's jobs in addition to our own, and it's tough on everyone. I don't have time to set tables and bus trays when I have a dozen fingersticks and insulins to do before dinner, but I've done it and kept my feelings to myself because at least I have a job, right?
Well, here is where the old gray mare says "ENOUGH." I shouldn't have to postpone my vacation to accommodate the absence of the nurse who had to leave again. I'm also not going to work ten days straight or do doubles (the late-middle-aged body was never designed for 16-hour shifts in a nursing home). I'm already feeling the first faint stirrings of burnout as it is; floor nursing is tough at ANY age, and even though I enjoy my job most of the time, I really need a break. Since April, I've been looking forward to it, thinking "Only a couple more months...only a few more weeks...I can get through this, I've got vacation time coming up."
Yes, one has to know when to walk away, and when to run...even if the guilt is killing you and you fear the wrath of your bosses the next time you set foot in the building~
