Just Call Me Karen

I think I got talked about by the nursing staff at hand-over. I rekon theres a high chance I may have been referred to as a “Karen”.


Well, buckle up. I’m a Melissa.


Here’s a bit of a back story and update:


We’re heading into week 3 with number one son in hospital. Usually it’s a stock standard 2 weeks of IV’s… bug dead.. see ya later. Didn’t quite happen this time. Anyway… he has an inhaled med he does with his chest physio, and because it can cause a bit of lung irritation, it’s being diluted to half strength… all within the orders written up by the Dr etc etc blah blah.


Time comes to have this medication. I remind the nurse that he’s having it half strength.
Nurse returns telling me he’s been having it full strength, because that’s what’s been signed off on the drug chart so that’s what she’s brought in.

She told me this THREE times, because each time I corrected her, her ears must have imploded and she couldn’t hear what I said.


I reiterated my point AGAIN and politely but assertively suggested that it may have been signed off incorrectly on the drug chart by the physios and can we just have it mixed the way I’ve asked….please and thankyou very much, for fucks sake, Amen.


Now this is where I shall intervene and just hit up anyone who is embarking upon a career in the health or caring industry.


LISTEN TO YOUR PATIENT’S. For the love of god, even if you think they’re complete cretins and dumb as a bricks….listen to them.


They’re not always going to be right, but the chances are that when you question those who live with chronic illness, they probably know what they’re talking about. I might even be so brave as to say that the PARENTS of children with chronic illness know more about their disease than you, and sure as hell know what the fuck is going on in the room of which you weren’t present when the bloody mediation had been given.


Gah.


I don’t think in anyway that my exchange was aggressive or rude, I just had to repeat myself until she actually listened, and by the third time, I may have had a tone in my voice that resembled “Karen wanting to see the manager”.


Also, I was tired, so I wasn’t my usual delightful self. After all, I’d been sleeping on a bed the devil himself designed and quite frankly, since I’ve hit my 4th decade, the idea of making others a bit uncomfortable doesn’t destroy my thoughts or conscience as it once did. I’m over pleasing people who aren’t pleasant. It’s exhausting.


What was interesting was that the next morning the day staff mentioned something about the conversation slash exchange I’d had with the nurse the day before. This nurse was older, more experienced and appeared supportive. She empathised about how she is aware that parents know what’s going on with their children’s health blah blah blah…but during our chat she used words and phrases like “argument”, “good for you”, “tiger mum” and “speaking out”.

Ummmm….What!?


And what exactly is a tiger mum..?


I asked the Google machine and this is what it said.


I’m confused because I’m obviously not Chinese and I don’t know Amy Chau so I think she meant being a mum “like a tiger”.



This is much more accurate, plus the father reference is much more relatable too…


Please bare with me while I pull up my feminist knickers here as I ask…


What is the male equivalent of a “tiger mum”?
Who is the male equivalent of “Karen”?
And why are women seen as difficult, argumentative or speaking out of turn when they make others uncomfortable or question something or god forbid….disagree?


I may be wrong, but think I can pretty safely say that if I had a dangly thing between my legs and was in the same situation, I wouldn’t be seen or described in the same way. I’d probably be seen as confident, strong, knowledgeable and interested. We don’t use these words for women enough. We assert them to be difficult, bitchy, sassy, opinionated and up-themselves.

Plus our names get changed to Karen.

Well I love Karen’s. I know a few awesome ones too.


I think we should all find our inner Karen, and I mean that in the most wonderful way possible. We should demand more than the bull shit we’ve been dished up over the generations.

Question the nurse. Speak to the manager. Ask for more information. Disagree. Speak up without fear of how is “looks” or “sounds”. Assert your point when you’re not being listened to. Don’t be afraid to cause someone just a little bit of discomfort.

It’s taken me over 40 years to be okay with the idea that I may offend someone or cause an eyebrow raise by just asking a question and that it’s NOT MY PROBLEM.


Fair chance the people we make uncomfortable are under 25 years old who think they know everything there is to know, can’t differentiate between you’re and your and lack the ability to count back change without a calculator. How’s that for stereotyping?


Their time will come though. They’ll hit their 40’s and feel the freedom of age and wisdom. They’ll want to talk to the manager and ruffle a few feathers because they’re old and sick of everyone’s shit. They’ll do this and look back remembering the Karen’s of yesteryear. They may even smile, shake their head with a knowledge that they have now become the Karens they eye rolled in their twenties. They will embrace this change and their new found title.


Without further adieu, I present to you the “Jessica’s”


And in 20 years time, they’d like to see the manager.


M

*disclaimer.. I adore nurses. They do one of the hardest job in the world and don’t get paid nearly enough for what they do. I was a nurse for a while too, and this is definitely #notallnurses