Okay, okay. It was a fantastic day. I know there will be days when things don't go so well, when people code and die or I get shat upon or I can't keep track of my fluids or don't run a bolus and I'll end up not feeling so swell, but tonight?
I left work with a smile on my face. This has not happened in, oh....four years?
And *everybody* who found out I was moving to the CCU--from the attending physician who's spoken to me exactly twice in seven years, to the respiratory therapists, to the other nurses--said almost exactly the same thing. "What the hell took you so long?"
The MEDICAL FUCKING DIRECTOR, who is also a surgeon, and whom I've worked pretty closely with for the last several years, looked me up and down after I said I was in my CCU internship and remarked, "It's about damn time. I always knew you were a CCU nurse."
The best part of it? If you talk to the nurses in the CCU, they get all excited about their jobs. Like, one nurse's nose and ears turned all pink as she told me how cool it was to work with really sick people and know--rather than feel like--you've saved a life. There is none of that on the floor from whence I came; although people do love their jobs, there's no freshness any more, no enthusiasm.
I have tons to learn. Absolute tons. I've never worked with cancer patients undergoing treatment; I've never seen a really huge radical neck dissection fresh out of surgery. I know almost nothing about immediate postop care of urology patients. But I can learn. And I will.
Why didn't I do this years ago? I always knew, deep down, that I was a CCU nurse.