Escape from the Henhouse

I've never been one to advocate misogyny, but I am really ashamed of my gender when it comes to what I've experienced in ICU.

I had my last day on the unit. It was hard saying goodbye to a very small number of people. But I felt mostly deep relief. Over the past few days people have seen me around the hospital and they say I look happier than they've seen me in a long time. And they also say I'm glowing.

I have said goodbye to individual people. It's known throughout the unit that I'm leaving. The people in the clique have said nothing to me, they don't even speak to me. Not a word.

My boss, the director, head honcho of the henhouse, first said nothing when I told her I was planning to apply for a position. I didn't hear from her for 10 days. Finally she saw me in the hallway and it was impossible to avoid me. So she said, "It's too bad you're leaving, but I know you've been frustrated."

Then I ran into her in the hallway again when I gave her official notice, and she said, "I wonder how long THIS is going to hold your interest." And that's all she said. No thank you, no good luck, no acknowledgement that I'd contributed anything like making her safety record impeccable, crunching numbers and making her look good so she could justify getting her special program funded by the higher ups.

I had stuck my letter of resignation in her mailbox, and it sat there for two days, even though I had e-mailed her about it to let her know it was there. Finally I took that damn letter and shoved underneath her office door.

I need closure!

Kindness is so important. It's hard to endure a toxic environment. I have heard that the onc unit is a very nurturing environment.

Over four years in ICU I became close to less than a half dozen people through our shared misery. It doesn't take too much to poison a work environment, give power to a few strategically placed people and they can really make life horrible. As I've said in previous posts, I've been feeling not valued, been treated like a second class citizen, ignored, and marginalized.

I'm not alone.

I recently spoke with two more of my coworkers who are trying to leave, one of them got a job that doesn't start until September, but both of them have confided that they went to the EAP and went on anti-depressants due to the toxic environment at work.

Since April, three nurses have left, I am the fourth to go, and two more have jobs that are starting in September. That's six of us leaving for sure. Four more of our most experienced nurses are actively job searching and plan to leave. If all of us leave, that would be ten nurses gone, on a unit of over 35 nurses.

When I got the word right before the weekend of July 4th that I got a permanent part-time position in the outpatient infusion clinic of the oncology department, I was ecstatic. I gave notice to my boss in ICU right after the holiday weekend, on July 6th. I had previously forewarned my boss on June 18th that I had been accepted a relief position there and that I would be applying for a permanent job in the near future.

The onc department wanted me to start the week of July 25th. Miss Manager, our ICU manager, wasn't going to let me start until the week of August 8th because she was short staffed on July 30th. One lousy day, and I work a total of 2 shifts a week. As if she couldn't find another way to cover it.

She had a charge nurse and 2 other nurses that day was all, and the usual staffing for the unit is 5 nurses. That's because it was a Friday and she's having problems finding people to work weekends because so many of us who have left and are leaving were working the weekends. And she can't say no to her friends who still expect to have weekends off.

So I told Miss Manager, how about if I am on call for ICU on the 30th and you let me start July 25th in onc. It was a deal.

With the devil.

I had told Miss Manager the week I gave notice that if it was possible to take me off the schedule on my July 20 and 22 shifts, I'd like to have a little break before I start my new job. As of July 19th, we were down to 4 patients in the ICU and there were 5 or 6 nurses scheduled each of those days. I asked Miss Manager to take me off the schedule again, and she refused. She said, I can't do that, but you can trade with someone.

Bullshit. If I were one of her buddies in the clique, she would have done it. So I said, don't worry about it, it's okay as it is.

But then Miss Manager decided to sic all her friends on me. And her buddy boy Bob, one of her favorites, wanted extra hours, so she was willing to give that to him, and still wanted to make me be on call, even though we were already overstaffed. She wrote me, Bob wants to work extra shifts, so he'll take your Thursday shift from 7-3 if you want to be on call 3-7.

Fuck that. I wanted the day off. Being on call is not a day off. So after Miss Manager emailed me about Bob I wrote back, no, just keep my schedule the way it is. Then Jenny called me wanting to take my Tuesday. Jenny said, I don't have enough shifts scheduled that week. Miss Manager said you wanted to give up your shift on Tuesday.

Is it my problem that Miss Manager can't schedule people for all of their shifts?

I had looked at the schedule and I like the nurse who was in charge Tuesday.

I wanted a chance to say goodbye because some of my favorite people were working that day and I wanted to be there. I really wanted to give up my Thursday because the Hen, my least favorite charge nurse who ignores me and gives me crappy assignments, was working along with lots of people I don't care for, and the Henhouse would be in full swing.

The Hen is the one who needs to leave and go be a grandma. She's a passive aggressive troll who is one of the ringleaders of the clique and so many people think she's an idiot, including physicians, ancillary staff, and most of the respiratory therapists. But she's a drinking buddy and friend of our director, so of course she can do no wrong.

The Hen sits at the front desk all day when she's in charge and cackles. Clucking like a hen. Talks to the other nurses in the clique about babies and weddings. If you need to talk about work, it's impossible to break into the conversation. She's oblivious.

I didn't need that clucking, cackling crap on my last day. Originally Miss Manager had scheduled another charge nurse, the old weekend charge nurse from when we had Baylor shifts, on that day. That would have been better because I like her and when she's in charge the unit runs more smoothly than with anyone else, but then Miss Manager changed things around and put the Hen in charge.

So I told Jenny that I originally told Miss Manager that I wanted to give up my shifts but I changed my mind and I told her I wanted to keep things as they are, so I didn't know why Miss Manager was telling people I want to give up my shifts. Which was the truth.

So then on Tuesday morning I came in to work and Miss Manager came up to me first thing. I heard you told Jenny that you didn't know what I was talking about, like I'm crazy. Even though I never used the word "crazy", I wasn't about to deny it. She stood there, looking like she wanted to pick a fight. So I stood there looked back at her.

I said, "I don't know what you want me to say."

I wasn't about to let her ruffle my feathers. I said, "I'm helping you out next week when you're short staffed. Have you found anyone else to work next Friday?"

I guess she must be worried about people calling her crazy, because it does happen often. For example, one of the float pool nurses told me that one time when she worked on another floor with Miss Manager years ago before she was a manager, Miss Manager accused that nurse of stealing her shoes because she had the same shoes in the same size as Miss Manager's. Miss Manager wouldn't believe that nurse until she brought the box from home to show her that she had those shoes too.

Miss Manager let out a series of terse puffs of air, her face was turning red, and her mouth was hanging open, "Puff...puff...No, the schedule is as it is next Friday."

She stood there looking at me, speechless. The word "apoplectic" crossed my mind. Afterwards I went and looked it up because I couldn't remember the exact definition.

Particularly in the adjective form apoplectic, apoplexy means furious, enraged, or upset to the point of being unable to deal with a situation rationally or diplomatically. -Wikipedia

So I decided that if she was going to be like that, then I'll just go ahead and call in sick on the 22nd. I needed to get a 50 mile training run in anyway and I decided to call it the "Fuck You 50". I figured it would be a good way to detox.

Then she ended up sending people home both days that week because we were overstaffed. And next week I still need to be on call because she understaffed it so bad. Only 2 nurses on, on a Friday! I will laugh my ass off if we end up with a full house. I hope we do. That will make the nursing supervisor so happy to have to scramble to staff the unit.

So I ran the Fuck You 50, it was a beautiful day, I felt great, I got the poison out of my pores, and then afterwards I burned my scrubs. It was a lot better than going to work on my last day in the henhouse, because I might have become apoplectic.

Burn, baby, burn.

I am looking forward to geting rid of the anti-depressants, once I get settled in my new job and feel like things are stable enough. And losing the 15 or so pounds of excess weight I'm carrying around. And being around positive people. I am sure there are always one or two I won't care for, but already I can see they have their act together so much more.

I start Tuesday. I spent time this weekend reading policies and procedures. I hear this unit is somewhat anal but also very organized. I think that will suit me much better. Already every time I've had a question, they've had an answer and they know exactly who to direct me to. And I know the both the manager and the director and they are good human beings.

I'll be wrapping things up with this blog in the near future. I think it's a good time to close out this chapter and perhaps there will be another happier nursing blog in the future. I am sure the challenge of working in an outpatient oncology unit will bring all sorts of insights to share. I look forward to that.

I'm glad I worked in ICU. I'm glad I got the experience I did, it was a great way to bring my basic nursing skills up to speed quickly and use my critical thinking to make quick decisions. I wouldn't trade the knowledge and learning for anything. I just wish that it wasn't so painful. But pain can teach us so much.

I think I am better for the experience I had here, and I hope to be able to use what I learned to make things better for other nurses, and the patients too.

A couple of days after I gave notice to my boss in ICU, I was at a meeting discussing the cancer center and in attendance, among other people, were several nurses and my new boss. One of those nurses works for Hospice, and I know her because she facilitates a cancer survivors' support group I've been attending to listen and learn. When I announced my good news about my move to oncology, she hugged me and said, "I am so happy for the oncology department! And I'm even happier for the patients!"

I had to hold back the tears.