So I had the ER again last night. Busy, busy, busy. There are significantly fewer therapists at night than during any other time period throughout the day, and last night we were ever shorter staffed. Lovely. Crazy-busy. And I am running all over the hospital, and one of the seasoned nurses asks me if they were to create a full-time ER RT position, where I would exlusively work nothing but the emergency department on the weekends, would I consider accepting. I said I would. Actually, my exact response was "Sure!". But as the clock was approaching go-home time and we were intubating yet another end-stage COPD patient, I was left wondering wtf I was thinking. My status as an adrenaline junkie and my gluttony for punishment momentarily overcame my rationale. And I think I was just basking in the compliment. I mean, when I started there, I was told the ER RNs would run me over until they were convinced that I knew my stuff. Now their faces light with smiles when, at the beginning of my shift, I walk through those ER doors. I guess I have proved my worth.
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