
It started with a text I received at 0500: Calling out sick
Me: Get better.
Response: Remember, Suzann’s also off.
Hmmm…
Next text to me: You’re in charge.
In my head I screamed Noooooooo! I want to stay in my bubble with my patients.
I was going to stay in my bubble with my patients.
There would be no charge person today. I would pretend for about ten minutes after clocking in — stand at the desk and look over the schedule with an authoritative air, ask the other a.m. nurses how they were doing. (They’re both older than me, been nurses longer. That’s how this duty should be designated! Years of duty, not time on the unit 🙂 )
My sick little coworker must have been light-headed when she wrote the last text.
So anyway, I thought as I drove…
Every time a surgeon came in, I was going to flip my head in the direction of the desk and grunt, hoping they’d understand my eloquent expression to mean “the bay numbers are next to your patients’ names on the schedule.” When the phone rang, I was going to exaggerate my movement, make it seem like I was incredibly busy. If an OR nurse came over, I was going to get that Oh my God, I’m so busy look. (They’ll either offer to help or hold up their hands and reassure me they can come back later).
Now, I’m not promoting anarchy here — call it a culture of independence, hehe.
My patients will be taken care of.
The place won’t fall apart.
And when the manager calls to check in around 0630, I won’t blatantly admit any anxiety, I’ll just let a little slip out in the tone of my voice.
…Fast forward
She came in early.
We were fine.
The trauma of being in charge for seventy-five minutes didn’t leave too many scars.
I went back to my bubble 🙂