You can’t pay me enough….military acute care nurse

I am a nurse working long term acute care and also in the military as a nurse. Before this i was a substitue school teacher and sub school nurse…and before that I was a freakin’ minor and happy with my teenage life.

It has been six long and miserable years as an acute care nurse. I have gained nothing but post traumatic stress disorder and clinical depression since becoming a nurse. Before i go further i think everyone should know my mother is also a nurse and an almost perfect one at that. I mean…every night at dinner ( i still live at home being unmarried) there is a huge discussion on how i should do things as an acute cate nurse and how they should be my mother’s way because she is perrrrfect. I felt good sometimes you know, when patients say “thank you” after you’ve medicated them for pain 5 times, cleaned up their vomit 3 times and wiped their shitty asses 7 times–but altogether i always came home feeling that my entire livelihood would vanish at the blink of an eye through this nightmare because the infamous, untouchable, magic and golden nursing license would be at stake with the slightest slip up.

I think of quitting all the time. Everyday in fact, that i go to work. I don’t think of improving my quality of profession because i hate it so much. As a matter of fact, i do my utmost to push it out of my head. Then, the next time i go to work…i remember the old familiar fucked up feeling i had when once i was at work (2 days ago). I don’t luv it…My bosses are all pompous fuckfaces who wouldn’t see the light of day if they were stuck in alcatraz because their grammar and punctuation come from the depths of hell and their customer service/relations belong to hitler.

In five years i see myself working in administration being just like my paper pushing pompous assholes of wanna-be bosses. I wouldn’t have it any other way because if i’m getting paid and can screw with my boyfriends and booze myself to death while still pretending to care about my job i will certainly do it until i retire. The interesting part is that i always saw myself singing or dancing perhaps entertaining for a living…not entertaining people who only seem to have conversations with you while attempting to have you smell their every bit of passing flatus or get squirted by their lovely spraying of sneezes and coughs. The military may have messed up my life…but honestly, what is life without the day to day frustration of wondering why you live to be trampled on?

To all the fuck up patient wanna-bes out there….exercise, exercise, exercise…and when you can’t get any healthier and feel you must come to the hospital and fuck up some decent person’s day…just hang your mutha-fuckin’ ugly explosive nasty stinkin self by your toenails and rootcanals!

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