Nclex Pop Up Trick Novels & Stories

"This is actually manageable. I'm just praying tomorrow doesn't bring an emergency consult." She set down her chopsticks and tapped her laptop trackpad. Adrian watched. "What are you doing?" "Electronic merit fish." Nora slid the laptop toward him. On screen, a cartoon rabbit knocked on a wooden fish every time she clicked. +1 Merit. +1 Merit. +1 Merit. Adrian stared. "Come on." Oily fingers, so Nora nudged him with her elbow. "It works. Same principle as putting an apple on the duty phone. Distraction wards off emergencies. Knock with me. Let's pray tomorrow ends on time."

HER middle finger came into motion. Twice. The tall brunette nurse in the green scrub, scribbling something on a notepad noticed the movement in her hand and paused for a moment to observe the patient in bed before going back to the notepad. Then her index finger where the pulse oximeter was placed came into motion. It tapped the bed twice and went back to being zilch in a matter of seconds. No sooner did both her index and middle finger move simultaneously, but the nurse failed to notice any of this as she was arranging the pet bottles containing her tablets, a jug half filled with water and a mini pill crusher in the small cart she had her colleague wheel in earlier.

Trick To say I'm nervous is an understatement. No matter if I've done something wrong or not, knowing I have to explain myself to what amounts to a group of judgmental assholes is never a fun thing to do. My foot taps uncontrollably on the floor, and I pull my phone out of my pocket, gazing at the picture me, Hadley, and Riley took on Halloween. It's the only thing that calms me down some days, and I feel like I have a fucking target on my back, especially at places like this.

“Target: Albert. Acute hypertension, slow recovery. Only one nurse assigned. Four-hour shift.” That’s more than enough. I text immediately: “When does the nurse leave the room?” “Around five. Usually steps out for five minutes to get medication.” Five minutes. Ideal. “Enter then,” I instruct. “Follow the plan. Blend in as hospital staff. No noise. No mistakes.” The answer comes fast. “Understood.”

Nicole's POV I walked into the classroom, carrying my bag and the tray of nursing equipment I’d prepared. I was in charge of the practical our lecturer had entrusted me to lead it and I suddenly felt nervous standing in front of the whole class, though I still felt excited. I had practiced everything at home, measuring blood pressure accurately, checking pulse and respiration, and calculating IV drip rates. I knew what to do. But now, standing in front of my classmates, it all felt bigger, more real.

The question was an ambush to see who knew what they were talking about and who was just going through the motions of reading the skimpy outline provided by the textbook's author. Nancy, who happened to be the first teacher asked Monday morning, gave the right answer off the top of her head with a shortcut demonstration computation on the spot. The others all flubbed it or tried to dismiss the question, except for the course supervisor who was presented with Nancy's 'off the top of her head' sample facts and gave a different (very wrong) answer. Each response was recorded (cell phones in class only serve the Horned One).