Why I didn't become a nurse.

When you don't feel like charting, chart until you do. (That is me applying Gospel principles in my daily life. Ha ha.) I was going to tell you about why I became a nurse and why it's the greatest mom job... yada yada. But I've got too much charting to do. It is that which I loathe about nursing. The number one rule they tattoo in your young "I'm going to save the world" mind is that if it is not written down, it didn't happen. Professors tell you that someday your charting is going to be blown up on an overhead projector in a court room and be under scrutiny in front of a judge and jury. It's not too far from the truth, actually. But knowing that doesn't make me want to do it any more. Can't you just take my word that I did what I said I did and I only say I did what I actually did? Fine, your Honor. I will chart.

But I do love (here comes my shameless plug for Home Health), that I can chart from the comfort of MY Chair. The chair. And it is MY chair because Husband hates it. I didn't plan it that way, it just coincidentally works out that way in my favor. It was the greatest Craigslist buy ever! Even Ani knows that she is not to be in my chair. All it is missing is this quilt (another shameless plug. This time for my birthday.)


So for today I will be breaking the other rule that they practically tattoo in your mind. Turn and reposition at least every two hours. My butt will be plastered to that chair for longer than that. Because if I finish this blasted documentation (not that I have a choice), I'm going to cast on something fabulous just for me- bed sore or not.