I have been working a lot.
I am full time on the night shift at a facility where I cover 5 floors as the only nurse with 4 aides.
It can be CRAZY.
It can be calm.
I never know how my night will go.
I am enjoying the night shift.
I sleep well during the day with my dog cuddled up as my living stuffed animal. My security blanket, so to speak.
Night shift is good.
What isn't so good is when the Monday morning nurse calls in sick Sunday nights.
I end up working a double from 10pm until 2pm the next day.
I insist someone else work my night shift because honestly?!?
I am too old for this!
My feet hurt.
My hips/lower back aches.
My entire week gets messed up from this break in my sleep/wake cycle.
I am normally sound asleep by 8am.
So my body says "Chill girl, you really SHOULD be asleep!"
My mind is not as alert as I like it to be when I am taking care of residents, giving meds, and making judgement calls.
All the caffeine in the world doesn't really help.
If I knew ahead of time I would be working a double I would be, at the very least, psychologically ready for an extra busy Monday morning shift running three floors. Yes, three.
At night the vast majority of the residents on all five floor are asleep.
Day shift, everyone is awake.
Cue the Dr. Demento theme music.
Or maybe Benny Hill's theme music.
Cuz that how day shift goes, especially on a Monday.
Passing meds, treatments, supervising aides, answering phone calls and visits from PCPs, family members, management, etc.
It's a whirlwind of crazy.
It reminds me exactly why I said yes to the night shift. (The extra money is good too.)
This past weekend I worked on Saturday night, normally my second day off. Back on Sunday night into day shift. That's 26 hours between 7pm Saturday night until 2pm Monday.
I forgot what else I intended to write because, duh, my brain is mush and I need to go back to bed.
