Crybaby.

Well, I had my first pregnancy-hormonal-breakdown at work today.  {This is a pregnancy related AND a bitch about work related post. Read if you want, skip if you don’t 🙂 }

On Tuesdays and Thursdays I work in surgery.  It’s a very fast paced environment, because we’re doing cataracts and the turnover rate is about 10 minutes.  Our anesthesiologist is a mess.  A good guy, yes.  A great doctor, yes.  But a completely and totally unaware of anything that’s happening around him mess.  And today he got behind and couldn’t keep up.  Because he’s too busy being a mess and talking to the last patient about his favorite spots to go fishing than actually moving on to the next patient and keeping things rolling.  Our surgeon, who is one of the doctors I work for in clinic also, likes for things to move quickly and smoothly.  Sometimes the anesthesia guys makes it a little difficult.  Today he got behind and overlooked some things, like a giant neon pink sticky note attached to the front of a patient’s chart telling him that the guy’s blood pressure was high.  Then he was upset and decided the reason he was behind was because “things weren’t getting communicated to him.”  Um, giant neon pink sticky note, anyone?  So then he started getting snippy and short.  Which I don’t like.  And then he roughly snatched a chart out of my hands.  And I about came unglued.

I was livid.  I’m finding out I might not have the right personality to work for a doctor.  I have no patience for disrespect.  I don’t care who you are.  I’m there to do a job, not be a doormat.  And while I will show my doctors the respect they deserve, I absolutely will not be made into a punching bag simply because you’re having a rough day and have no one else to blame it on but yourself.  I see nurses roll over and look the other way when shit like that happens, and its ridiculous.  There is a very fine line between a boss/employee relationship and just flat out disrespecting someone because you have an MD behind your name and you feel like throwing a temper tantrum.

By the end of the day I was a force to be reckoned with.  I was pissed and everyone there knew it {besides Dr. Anesthesia, because he’s completely and totally unaware}.  After surgery I went into my nursing director’s office to vent {she is one of the people at work who knows I’m pregnant} and she basically asked if it was my hormones making me upset.  Um, no.  I mean, sure, it probably doesn’t help, but I’m pissed because I don’t like being treated like shit.  So I start crying.  Because I’m hormonal.  And sometimes I cry when I’m mad anyway.  It was stupid and I hated myself for it, but it is what it is.  Then, out of nowhere, Dr. Anesthesia bursts through the freakin’ closed door without even knocking {because he’s totally unaware} while I’m sitting there in tears.  He says, “Oh, didn’t mean to interrupt,” then goes on to talk to her about whatever it was he came in to talk about.  Then he looks at me and asks if I’m ok.  Oh. MY. GOD.  “Bad day,” was all I managed to mutter without jumping on him and strangling him.  Then, he patted me on the back and said it was a bad day for him, too, but that I did a good job and he wouldn’t have changed a thing that I did.  Oh, fuck you, guy.  {pardon my language, but GEEZ.}

Arrrrgh.  I let myself get way too upset and way too stressed out today.  I don’t need that.  My uterus doesn’t need that.  The little person that I’m growing, who I’ve yet to come up with a nickname for because I’m too afraid to jinx it, doesn’t need that.

As far as other things, so far so good.  According to my calculations {the due date calculator on the babycenter website} I was 6 weeks yesterday.  Still VERY exhausted, but finally sleeping better at night, thank God.  Still having bouts of dizziness and lightheadedness.  And I think morning sickness has found me this week.  No throwing up, but I definitely feel nauseated from time to time throughout the day.

Our first ultrasound is on Monday and I am anxious, excited, and terrified about it.  If everything looks ok, Hubby wants to go ahead and tell our parents.  We’ll wait until we’re farther along to tell the rest of the family, and who knows if I’ll ever feel confident enough to announce it to the world of facebook.  The more people who know, the scarier it gets.  I want to tell the people at work soon, not for the sake of telling them, but because it may make life easier at work for me.  My job is pretty physical and high stress at times.  My husband asks me every few days if I’m taking it easy at work.  I’m not really sure how to take it easy at work.  But maybe if people knew, it would be a little easier to take it easy at work.

Ok.  I’m done.

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One thought on “Crybaby.

  1. Aww Hun you’ve lasted more than me haha! I had a breakdown full with tears and stuff the second day I knew I was pregnant! Those hormones play such games with you it’s crazy. But good news…ur still pregnant…and I’m so happy about that 😊

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