IDRNTOO

We've established many times, just how long I've been a caregiver. All of my life. It was my calling, truly. When I first went into nursing, I took the short course and became an LPN. I needed to do that to escape a bad marriage. I needed a way to provide for myself and my young child. It took an entire year to get through that program and I often felt, it was the hardest one of my life. I had light at the end of the tunnel but was living in the same home as an alcoholic and abusive man. My parents used to beg me to leave there because they were worried for my safety. I however, needed a plan and that took time.

I finally got what I needed, moved out and I took my daughter with me. I got a job at a horrible nursing home in a very rural area. To say the least, they were very backwards there. I'm sure the place still exists and I can only hope they've joined modern nursing in this new century. I kind of doubt it.

My second job was a little better but I worked midnights with an odd Eastern Indian woman who like to tell me at every opportunity, "IDRN, UDLPN." "Isidandchard, udodmeds." For all 60 patients, I passed the meds while Nurse George, maybe her real name, sat on her royal fanny. This was 1984. All these years later, it still burns my ass. I despise sloth. It was however, the dawning of the burning need to go back to school so I could get the hell out of places like that. That's exactly what I did too. I went to school, worked full time and mothered my daughter. I was driven to get away from Ms. George.

All I talked about during that time, was my hatred for Nurse George. Nonstop, I bitched to anyone who would listen. It helped to fan the flames to keep myself going. I was definitely burning the candle at both ends. In 1986, I no longer worked with her, but I still talked about her. I was so close to finishing school and I had a new sweetie then; my husband to be. One day, we got in the car and started driving. We stopped in Port Huron and went to the marina to see all the sailboats waiting to race to Mackinac Island. Then we decided to cross the bridge to Canada and just drive. We ended up in Niagara Falls, two hundred miles away. Along the way, I told him all about my nemesis. A lot. The next day, strolling alongside Niagara Falls, above the roar of the water, I heard my name being shouted in a thickly accented voice. There she was, DRN. I couldn't escape her. I was completely gobsmacked at this chance meeting. So was my husband. I'd We'd talked about her for at least two of the four hours it took to drive there and now, here she was in the flesh. Like she'd been following me.

I still think about this nurse often. I've run into people just like her over the years and while I still abhor sloth, maybe I owe her a debt of gratitude. Perhaps she is the one who was the driving force to get me back in school. Maybe her example helped shape my own nursing practice. Twenty four years later, I'm now willing to forgive Nurse George her slave driver ways. Without her, I'd still be passing meds to 60 patients a day. I only hope that bringing her up again, I haven't given myself a Beetlejuice like curse.

IDRN UDLPN

I finally did it last night. I said the words, "are you an RN? Can I speak to The RN please?" The subtext is of course, you are a lowly LPN and unworthy of me even speaking to you. The reality is when one of my patients expires, it must be a RN who pronounces the death.

So I'm very sorry Nurse LPN, I know how it feels, but it had to be done. I'm quite certain you know what death looks like and are quite capable of listening to absent heart sounds for the required time. I'm also certain that when pressed, you know how to report a death to the medical examiner. I know why you were so passively aggressive toward me as I've been in your shoes.

One hundred and two years ago, when I first went to nursing school, I was looking ahead to my divorce and desperately needed a quick nursing program. Since I was going to be a single mother with bills to pay, I needed something that would get me a job somewhere rather fast. I chose a vocational program to be a Licensed Practical Nurse as my path of least resistance. It wasn't a bad little program and I learned a lot. Mostly, I learned that LPNs aren't highly respected-even when they're smart or have a boatload of experience. Many RNs and all administrators look down on them. I also learned there aren't too many jobs for the LPN. I had my choice of nursing homes to practice my trade, but that's about it.

My first job was at a horrendous little nursing home where the afternoon shift nurse (a RN), would prep the medications for the nightshift nurse. That's right. She'd take the pills for each patient out of their little identifying containers and place them in cups. The cups would go into a little well with the room number as the only identifier of the mysterious pills. This was to save the ONLY night shift nurse (me), some valuable time. Otherwise, I'd never get to go home and sleep. The most important things about a med pass, known as the five rights, are carved in stone AND written in Florence Nightengale's blood: right patient, right medication, right dose, right time and right route (and I didn't have to google the five rights to check these facts-neither did any nurses reading this.) Can you see the hamster in my brain having a massive seizure at this med set up? I remember asking the seasoned RN how I'd know which medication was which. She told me she didn't make mistakes. Okie dokie then. I quit after my one and only shift. I could not and would not work like this.

A bit later, I took a job at another nursing home. We had sixty patients on my unit, one RN, one LPN and one or two nurse assistants. The RN, a woman from India, seemed nice enough when I first met her. I thought, mistakenly, that she was joking when she told me, "IDRN, I Sit. UDLPN, udodmeds." What? For sixty people? Was she out of her mind? Apparently, she was. True to her word, she sat on her ass all night while I passed every single medication at midnight and then again, at 6 AM. Oh, she had lots of good tips about how to get this done quickly, none of them included her jumping in to help. I never finished my med pass before the end of my shift. Never.

Not once in one hundred and two years, have I forgotten DRN. I've not forgotten the way she made me feel either: small. Last night, not wanting to leave the confines of my home to go pronounce a facility death, I let the dreaded "RUDRN" leave my lips in a rather haughty way. I regret it. From DRN to DLPN, please accept my heartfelt apology.