#hospitalstories

[somerejoice]

Převozník

[cruisingforamusing]

Sometimes on a Night Shift i sleep in the end room. Bed 4. It’s an isolation room with an ante chamber and closeable doors. I’m usually comforted by the sound of the air con and the air mattress inflating and deflating around me. Separated briefly from the stomach of the hospital by glass doors and a thin orange curtain.

But last night as I got ready things felt eerier than usual. The aircon sounded less like machine and more like breathing. The room had dark corners and hidden nooks where memories could hide. As I lay there under the scratchy too thin hospital blanket I thought about what these walls had seen. What events had happened in this room? The hospital at its current site is only 10 years old, but in that time countless patients had rolled in, most lucky enough to roll back out. I wondered how many last breaths the walls held. How much grief and sickness pulsed through the veins and wires of the room. We are soaked with it, in this job. The pain of sickness. The grief of loss or new disablement. The walls seemed to swell with it last night, soaked in like it’s soaked into the bones of the nurses who care here. We wash your back and braid your hair and our fingers entwine themselves into your experience, however temporary that is. But each witnessed last breath lingers with us. Each held hand. Each tear of relief of disappointment. And when we can’t hold it anymore and the night shifts round our shoulders and send us home to our beds, the building stays awake, breathing quietly, holding space for countless memories of witnessed and unwitnessed grief.

[my-life-as-a-hospital-staffer]

4/15/20

As I emerge to take a breath from the depths of staffing nightmare brought to you by COVID(™️), I encounter a strange occurence...

A lady dressed fully in a purple bunny onesie suit with ears 2 feet long being tackled to the floor by security. Apparently she was causing hell. They eventually got her out of the suit, minus the ears and she remained harassing front desk of the ER.

[bikemindset]

It's kind of hard to imagine that my cycling stats came down from what you can see in the picture from just July to nothing since mid-september 😒 I'm sure some of you know that it's not just about kilometers or altimeters - it's about your well-being, and your psyche. Hopefully my bones are getting stronger each day and I will soon be able to let the steam off in the saddle. 🤞 *** Aż trudno uwierzyć że z tego co widać w statystykach na obrazku zszedłem do zera już w pierwszej połowie września. Część z was wie że to nie chodzi o kilometry czy nawet altimetry lecz o psychikę i samopoczucie. Na szczęście wszystko zrasta się chyba dobrze więc nie mogę się już doczekać kiedy znowu wsiądę na siodełko i od reaguje to co straciłem w końcówce tego lata i w tej pięknej jesieni. . . . . . #nocyclingnolife #cyclingaccident #fracturedcollarbone #hospitalstories #noactivity #wishfulthinking #gettingstronger #accidentrecovery #nobikemindset (at Szpital Miejski w Zabrzu) https://www.instagram.com/p/B3jrPuxn1w1/?igshid=1siyzis6otbft

[bheeshoom]

"Life's not about all the steps you've taken, or all the places you have been ~ but the footprints you've left behind" - . . . . this quote is fine n tells alot... This was shot in a hospital, when I was there to visit our old neighbor who admitted there... He was in ICU. All my memories flashbacked by seeing him sleeping calmly. His last few steps were till that ICU room... N the last place he visited... The man left his footprints in my heart to cherish... #RIPDaji #RIP #lastSteps #FootPrints #hospitalstories #HosptialLife (at K. J. Somaiya Medical College & Research Centre) https://www.instagram.com/bheeshoom/p/BtljnOWHJtG/?utm_source=ig_tumblr_share&igshid=6cfstpguc2ot

[whumperfect]

Wheels, Part 2

Feel free to visit the first part (linked here) if you haven’t already. Part 3 here. Part 4 here. Like and share! Written in collaboration with @99point9percentwhump, thank you so much!

Exhausted, Roman lay on the bathroom floor, eyes closed, possessing not the energy, nor the will to stand. How long he had been there, Roman could not recall. Only that he was in dire pain, and that every part of his body ached from the wretched heaving. It was then that Roman heard the car pull up out front. His stomach dropping in panic, Roman heaved himself to his feet with a scream. Looking out the window, he realized that his parents were home. They had picked his sister up from play practice too, he realized, as she joyfully hopped out of the back of the car.

He ran to his room, where he threw on a pair of sweatpants and a long sleeve shirt, doing his best to conceal the cuts along his arms and legs. Having no way to cover the cuts on his face, Roman quickly formulated a story. He had been skating down the hill. Wasn’t paying attention. A tree branch whipped him in the cheeks and scraped his face. He hoped that his parents would believe him; they didn’t need to know the real story. Likely, if they found out, they would overreact and he would have to spend the evening in the hospital, a couple of hours drive away.

When his parents walked into the house, they found Roman in the kitchen, searching through the fridge.

“Hey Rome,” his mother greeted him, plopping a kiss onto the back of his head. He winced internally, but managed to greet her with a nonchalant tone.

“Hey mum, how was your day?”

“Oh, you know. This and that. People are so hard to manage when they’re cranky. And mind you, they’re always cranky.” She laughed, dropping her keys on the counter and reaching into the pantry for some cheez-its. His father walked into the kitchen, his hair a mess from the wind outside, and slightly damp from the rain that was still falling lightly. His father was followed by Anna, his little sister. She wore a bright raincoat and a glorious smile, almost enough to light the entire room with joy.

“Hey Rome!” she cried, running over to hug him with a barrel hug. He grunted as her little body collided with his, but stayed on his feet and returned the hug. “What’s on your face?”

“Oh this?” He reached up to tough the scratch. “I was skating down the hill and wasn’t paying attention, ran into a tree branch, nasty damn trees. I don’t understand why they don’t trim the branches that hang over the road.”

“Did you clean it?” His mother asked, a look of concern cloudy her face.

“Of course, we’ll need some more hydrogen peroxide though, the bottle was almost empty and I finished it.” A lie; the bottle had been full.

“Damn, really?” His father asked. “I just picked some up at Costco the other day.”

Roman shrugged, continuing with the lie; “I don’t know what to tell you, there was barely anything left.”

“Okay,” his dad nodded. “I’ll pick some up at the store when I go next week. Roman, can you start making a list of things we need? I don’t want to drive all the way to the city and back only to discover we’ve forgotten something.” He chuckled to himself. Roman nodded, blinking through the pain as he crossed the kitchen to fetch the writing pad and pen. He scribbled down a few things onto the list:

Hydrogen peroxide

Advil

Jellybellies…

He put the pad down; they could add to it later. If they wanted. He blinked. He breathed. Tears sprung to his eyes. What was happening? He blinked. He breathed. Something was wrong. He blinked. But breath wouldn’t come. It was caught in the space between his lungs and his mouth. His legs turned to jelly as he sunk to the floor. He stared straight ahead. Something was wrong. Why couldn’t he breathe? Why would no words come even as his head screamed for help?

“Roman?” Thank God, it was his mother. She was looking at him in a curious manner, concern spread across her face like butter. “Roman what’s wrong?” he could hear her footsteps tapping against the tiles as she made her way around the counter towards him. “Roman.” She gasped and tried to catch him as his legs gave out. Why could he not stand? He was strong enough… wasn’t he? The scratches on his face, legs and arms stung, bringing wet tears to his eyes. As wet and large as the raindrops that fell from the sky outside.

“Blake!” His mother yelled to his father. “Blake start the car!” The car? What for? A curtain of darkness descended over his eyes, and he was falling.

[enkisstories]

Hospital patient: “Is CyberLife now selling handicapped androids?!”

Daniel: “Yes, for representation. As of late they also have a mentally ill model.”

Gavin: “WTF, mentally ill androids for real?”

Daniel: “Of course! Or would you call Connor normal?”

Gavin: “‘course not!”

But Philips was normal and frightingly so. Connor was sporting this hyped social module, Philips to the contrary was fully socialized. Maybe it was rooting for the Detroit Pistons or collecting pocket waifus. Chances were, it also identified with a Hogwarts house. 

Perhaps, Gavin mused, the thing had been too dumb to realize it had been a disposable tool all its life. Instead it had grown comfortable in its role and developed the self confidence and disdain for the unwashed masses of any upper class butler. Tossed out into the real world, Philips would stick out for a couple of months, but ultimately settle in, because unlike the similarly homeschooled Markus it had no lofty ideals, just its personal desires.

Just a regular guy... Or not just that. Chris Miller was a regular guy, was the very epitome of average. However, Chris would never have fit in with Gavin and Tina at the breakfast table. Philips would, of that the detective was certain. For a moment he imagined the blonde android holding down Connor for Gavin to teach manners to. He dismissed the fantasy quickly, angry at the person he loved most in this world (himself). That was how androids were replacing real people everywhere, after all! Gavin couldn’t contribute to that... he just... couldn’t...

[gwenheifnerauthor]

Added a new blog post today. It is all about how I broke my leg 2 weeks ago. I do explain in detail exactly what it was like the moment I broke my leg. #blogs #blogger #bloggers #personalblogs #personalblogger #writerscommunity #writer #writing #author #authorscommunity #authorwebsite #shortstories #shortstory #shortstorywriter #brokenankle #brokenleg #hospital #hospitalstory #nursesareawesome #ifell #rockclimbing #bouldering https://www.instagram.com/p/CYR6nauL2gu/?utm_medium=tumblr

[hartiverse]

Home safe and sound. #gothgirl #gothic #gothicstyle #witchesofinstagram #witch #witchhat #redhat #goth #youtube #hospitalstory https://www.instagram.com/p/B_OxgwtBQfH/?igshid=137guy3v8m0v5

[chinomiko]

Beneath our scars website is up !

www.beneathourscars.com

BoS is a free romance visual novel with my Ocs Melinda and Rowan.

Please consider registering to the newsletter to keep updated 💖

Hope you’ll like it !

What do you think of it and the teaser video (full teaser on the website) ? :)))

And please SHARE 🙏

#chinomiko #beneathourscars #ocs #originalcharacters #bos #visualnovel #visualnovelgame #otome #otomegames #mycandylove #eldarya #moonlightlovers #lovestory #shoujo #shojo #shojomanga #mangaart #mangadrawing #anime #gamergirl #pinkaesthetic #egirl #gamercouple #rowan #melinda #hospitalstory #cute #kawaii #freeotomegames #freevisualnovel

[xmya71]

He’s back at 100% Today was terrifying! He basically looked up on a street corner and had no idea where he was or where he lived. We rallied as a family. He will have to wear a medi alert bracelet in case this happens again ☘️😱 #hospitalstories

[somerejoice]

...and sometimes it’s all rainbow and unicorn shit :D

[genuineblend]

The German Nurse and a shitty day

I need to let out some steam... I can't sleep, it's 1 am and I am still mad about my last shift (late shift 1pm to 9pm) yesterday... I will have this shift for another 5 days till Sunday, so I'll have to endure it somehow but today was the worst day in my job so far. It began that my obly colleague came to work sick (fever, swollen throat and runny nose). People are not supposed to do that, you will get ither nurses sick or patients even sicker, but as a martyr she crawled to work and almost collapsed around 2 hours after the shift started, so I sent her home (she got picked up). That meant I was in a very bad position. I was alone and had 23 patients with another 5 patients who were supposed to get a bed on this ward ad well over the day. Of these 23 patients were 15 of a high care level, that means they have to be moved/turned hourly to prevent bed sores, pants checked and eventually cleaning done, food had to be given and/or PEG had to be administered. I don't want to talk about the i.v. program, and the amount of patients with a diabetes... so you get the point. I couldn't do it... the constant bell ringing and telephone ringing didn't help. A colleague from our partner ward came up and helped to get the food tablets to the patients because we have to do that as well in the late shifts. My nightshift nurse came two hours early! And the worst of all? I had a situation with a patient having a focal seizure of over 8 mins and was afraid the rest of the day she would get worse without an DNR. I was done today. I had an elderly patient with dementia who sat in ger own excrements for over six hours, because I couldn't roll her 180kg body to a side and there was nobody to help around. I am ashamed! I wrote a letter and stated the facts why it is patient endangering what we are doing.... it wad the fourth letter this week and all we get as a response is: other wards are as bad as yours, deal with it. I am ashamed and angry and I really hope I will get another nurse in my late shift tomorrow, because as of now, we don't have one.

[my-life-as-a-hospital-staffer]

3/18/20

It's been some time since I posted a story mostly because Covid-19 and I'm just too busy to remember Tumblr exists. But I had two stories already that happened today and I've only been clocked in for 1.5 hours.

1) At the coffee stand. Lady and friend walk up to the counter and ask, "Espresso Milkshake! What's that!?" Very excitedly. The barista, bless her soul, responded straight faced, "A milkshake with espresso."

The lady then replies with "What's it made of!!??"

Barista once again: "Coffee... and milk." Good lord.

2) Gal comes in my office to return her checked out ACLS book. I locate her check out sheet and note she didn't fill out her Department or when her class was. These are payroll deduction forms in the case of you damaging and/or not returning the book. I sign off on it coming back and mention casually, "Just FYI, next time you check out a book, please fill out the whole form."

She gives me a blank stare and says, "Oh I was here with another lady and she didn't tell me I needed to do that."

Lady. Nobody should have to tell you. It's a form. It's blank with lines that tell you what it wants. It says:

Name ______

Date _______

Book # _____

Department ______

Date of class ______

It's not rocket science!

[cliffeyland]

Cliff Eyland, A Blood Clot Swelled My Hand So I Made a Picture and The Swelling Disappeared, 2017, digital photograph, variable dimensions

[niclasisto]

L’acufene, un giorno, ha deciso di venire a vivere con me. O da me, perché con, forse, precluderebbe un permesso ed io, un permesso, all’acufene non l’ho affatto dato. Ad ogni modo si è presentato ed in una sequenza di incontri e scontri l’ho riportato. #acufene #reportage #reportagespotlight #intimatestory #storytelling #storyteller #salute #photodocumentary #dailylife #contemporaryissue #yogurtmagazine #documentaryphotography #photojournalism #lensculture #instalife #burndiary #sociallandascape #autorafotografi #phroommagazine #papermemoryzine #social #lifestyle #thesmartview #c41 #archivecollectivemag #hospital #hospitalstory