Missing ID Badge Creates Furor

I feel sorry for the baby vamps. Even if they've been through the classes and done their clinicals and required number of sticks, the real world looms large and scary when you get an actual, paying job.

And, then we throw about six more weeks of assorted knowledge at them, showing them the reality of hospital world, versus the sanitized, proper and perfect version of book world.

It's hard. I try not to forget *to remember*, if that makes sense. It wasn't all that long ago that I was one of those baby vamps myself.

The Boss called a meeting today. As I passed her in the phlebotomy area, she gave me a verbal heads-up about the meeting and its subject.

Name badges. Patient reps had called and lodged a complaint.

Shit. Just what I need: A complaint on my "permanent record" right before I start my new job. You see, I knew where that complaint came from.

My student and I were on the ortho floor yesterday. It's a good floor for a baby vamp to work because there are generally a lot of straight needle sticks, and just enough butterfly draws and a couple of capillary punctures to make things interesting for the trainer-who-must-observe.

She was doing a good job. This is my first week with her and I've seen amazing improvement in five days. I like to think it's because of my way of teaching, but it's more than likely that her comfort level is rising.

But then we got to the west side of the floor, and the unit clerk asked, "Do you have 47?"

She asked it in that tone that bodes evil.

Me: "Uh-oh, UC...why do you ask?"

UC: "He's a bit of a....well...ummmmm....jerk," she said, right about the time I suggested, "Asshole"?

She grinned and said, "Yeah, that pretty much says it. The nurses hate going in there."

Me: "Oh, swell." (And, what a wonderful experience for a baby vamp to go through, I thought)

Me: "C'mon, BV, let's go draw him first."

BV quakes a moment or two, then squares her shoulders and says, "Okay."

The private room had a tightly shut door. Another sign that states in an odd sort of way that the patient dwelling within is not nice. Most times a door is only shut tightly when it's an isolation room, a procedure is being done, or the spouse is enjoying some intimate time with the patient. Most of the time, a door is pulled closed, but not shut tight. So, a tightly shut door with UC's comment did not sit well with me.

Knock, knock, knock. We push the door open - they never open easily, but give a sort of lurch with the crunchy grate of hinges designed to hold doors open.

"Good morning Mr. We'veBeenWarnedAboutYou. I'm BV and this is Kate. We're from the lab and we're here to draw a blood sample that the doctors have requested. May we turn on your light?"

He snarls and grabs his remote and punches on a light and slams the device against the side rail.

BV gulps ever so slightly, and sets her tray down, does a quick ID check of the labels against his wristband. They match, and she begins to pull the preliminary stuff from the tray: tubes, alcohol wipe, 2x2's, tourniquet and tape. The needle choice will come after she palpates and finds a vein.

BV: "Do you have a preference on which arm you'd like me to check?"

The jerk glares at her, looks her up and down, sneering. In the meantime, I've moved to the other side of the bed.

He asks in an antagonistic tone, "Isn't it a hospital policy to wear an identification badge? YOU DON"T HAVE A BADGE."

BV pats the front of her lab coat and a look of panic flashes across her face.

BV: "Oh my goodness...it's in my locker. I must have forgotten it this morning when I put my coat on."

Jerk looks at me. "YOU don't have one either!"

Me: (reaching into my coat) "Oh yes I do...I just came out of an isolation room and I had my coat off and I'd just not pulled it out of my jacket. Would you like to see my badge a little closer?"

BV: "If you'd like Kate to draw your blood because she has an ID badge on, it's perfectly okay...I don't mind."

Me: (taking control of the situation and getting my student back) "I'll be most happy to if you'd like, sir. But, BV, first I want you to palpate for the vein and see what you can find. If I need to do the draw, I will."

She palpated, found a wonderful antecubital and began to pull out a straight needle for the draw. I shook my head at her and said, "Use a green butterfly," so she pulled out a butterfly and hub and proceeded to do the draw with nary a word from the jerk.

(Note: In Kate's dark little evil place in the depths of the mind, it was tempting to tell her to use a straight needle and hope she missed...but we'll leave that at that.)

BV does a great stick, fills the tubes, we thank the patient and we get the hell out of there.

The nurse is waiting outside, vitals equipment in hand. You owe us chocolate for that one, sweetie, I thought.

The UC was duly impressed that we'd come out of there with few visible scars. I told her about the ID's and she rolled her eyes. I'm sure she wasn't surprised at all when the patient reps called later in the day to take a report about missing ID badges on staff.

You see, my student was not the only one. There had been three nurses on the floor that day either without badges, or not visible. And the jerk complained about every single one, thus generating reports to the charge nurses, the head of the departments and he'd made threats of patient endangerment, because, after all, how did he know we *really* worked for the hospital?

So, an emergency meeting was held today, stressing the importance of wearing our badges.

It never hurts to have a reminder of those sorts of things. And, at the same time, it's sad to think that the patient will not get the same high degree of care that he would if he was being less antagonistic.

Although that sounds like poor patient care, it really isn't... for his attitude of disdain along with his refusal to accept medical care offered to him results in limited nurse access; he'd rather bitch and moan and complain about minor rule infractions. The nurses won't go to his room unless it's completely necessary; in fact, his labs were cancelled today because he'd grown so hateful overnight that the nurses refused to let phlebotomy go in and put up with his verbal abuse. They weren't going to go in, and they weren't going to send us in to get dumped on, either. The docs were informed.

Since most docs have little or no phlebotomy experience, perhaps the Jerk will change his mind about cooperation after he gets a few extra holes punched in him after the doctors have a stab at him....pun intended.