Ditzy People

Okay, I am not afraid to admit it: I am not the most compassionate, caring person in the world. Thinking of other peoples' needs first just doesn't come naturally to me. I don't have kids. There's a very good reason for that. I'll probably never be mature enough, but caring for an organism that can't already fend for itself scares the bejeezus out of me, and is a completely alien concept to me.

To whit: Last night as soon as I arrived at work I noticed (yes, I actually noticed) the person I was taking over for was glazey-eyed and seemed to be not quite right. Well, if you knew this person and had followed her before in my job, you'd know this is not unusual at all. To put it bluntly, this woman probably should not be a Med Tech at all. Too many complicated tasks, too much multitasking, and all preferably done without a whiny "I'm sorry, I screwed up!" to greet you as soon as you walk in the department. Believe me, there's history here.

I spent the following 2+ hours cleaning up the godawful mess she had left the Chemistry department in. Why was it worse than usual? Turns out she slipped getting out of the shower and broke her foot at home before she ever came in. She was in pain. Probably doped up on whatever she was taking throughout her shift (just rumor, but a second shifter saw her popping Valium at lunchtime). A logical, sensible person who has slipped in the shower and noticed her foot swelling probably would have though, sheesh, I probably ought to have this looked at. Maybe I shouldn't go to work. But no. This person worked an entire shift in a zombie-like state with a foot that was swollen to twice its normal size and alarmingly blue and purple in color. A person who ought to be a patient herself ought not to be handling patient results. I know (but can't prove) she incorrectly resulted at least two patients. There was no serum left for me to re-run and check these patients. She had samples so boluxed up on the analyzer, I was tempted to run everything all over again (which I nearly did anyway in the end).

I find it exceedingly difficult to have sympathy for people who don't take care of themselves. This woman has a novel-like history of health problems. Quit smoking, for God's sake. Take the proper medication for your seizures or do SOMETHING about them. Get some sleep. Eat decently. Learn ways to deal with everyday, run-of-the-mill stress.

Sorry, but when she wriggled off her shoe and took off her sock (right there in the lab, for cryin' out loud), my first reaction was propriety-offended shock. Her foot looked like f***ing hell. I told her to take her badge and punch out this minute. No way in hell was I going to have her staying overtime and trying to deal with her mess in the department. 'Cause it was mine to deal with now. I just wanted her out of my sight.

Other people had suggested earlier she go down one floor to the ER department and have her foot looked at. Turns out that's what she did. FINALLY. Why do I feel like a heel for not taking her down there myself? Why do I care how on earth she drove home like that? All I told her to do was elevate the foot and ice it down. How the hell was I supposed to know it was broken? I'm an MT, not an MD.

Like I said, there's history here. Other people at work have found her clingy, helpless, ditzy ways close to impossible to cope with. She's an adult. She's even borne two children, which technically makes her more of an adult than me. You snap at her, and then feel as bad as if you had kicked a puppy.

Well, I hope she's all right. And thank God I have the next two nights off.

Dammit, I need another glass of wine.