Passionate Perceptions

Putting it all back in perspective

2009-04-25T18:19:00.003-06:00

Sometimes life has a way of making up your mind for you. Like when you're on the fence, trying to decide if a long distance move would be a good idea. On the one hand, it would be great to get away from everything and everyone you've known for so long, just start all over. But then on the other hand, would it be a good idea, in case your family needed you all of a sudden? And what about your child's relationship with her grandparents and aunts and uncle, not to mention the friends who have become more like family than your own family sometimes? What to do, what to do....

And then the decision is made. Not by your own rationale, or the careful weighing of the options, but by the voice on the other end of the phone who, in casual conversation, tells you that the biopsy results were positive. Tentative and meek, like she was waiting for me to cry, or explode, or something. But I did what any good daughter would do, allowing the prolonged silence and heavy sigh to convey what my absent hug would otherwise provide. I'll be there, Mom. You just tell me when, what day, what time. We'll get through this.

And the wheels start spinning. What type, what stage? Any mets? What about a PET scan? The poor expert surgeon, whom we have yet to meet, doesn't know what he's getting himself into by taking on this case. See, I'm not just a daughter of a cancer patient now, who are already the worst when it comes to overbearing and nitpicky. I'm a nurse. So I know those words that most family members don't, and when you try to broadbrush us with highly technical terms, I'm going to be ready with some of my own.

I know what this thing can do. For the past five years, I've been on the other side of the devastation, watching lives morph into a melancholy existence spotted with hope and fear. I have a different take on life, bouncing between the ferverent struggle to save it in the ER and striving to make others comfortable at the end of the journey. Where does my mother fit in? Why are my opinions and comfortable understandings of the medical field suddenly tossed into chaos when it becomes personal?

And now, because this is the way I am, I will bottle it up and hide it away, because I have to be strong. For her. Because she has been there for me through everything. Because I have regrets, things I've never said, things I should never have said. Because I will never have done enough to deserve her love and strength and support. Because she is my mother.

Mortality

2009-04-04T22:45:00.002-06:00

I know there are those who would say that pre-planning your own funeral, or that of your spouse, is an unnecessary and morbid practice. However, in the line of work I'm in, I think I've become a little desensitized to the inevitability of death, especially my own mortality. I don't have an issue discussing my preferences for a funeral service, or the plans for scattering my ashes. I have my flowers picked out, and the music I want played, and the Bible verses that I want read before the invitation by the Baptist preacher.

We've filled out all the requisite paperwork for my husband's military funeral honors, and I have the flag display box picked out. I wonder why I would be thinking of these things on the eve of my second wedding anniversary. I must be a little off to organize our funeral services when we've only been married two years. Maybe that is an extension of my "glass half empty" view on life. Just makes me wonder sometimes, why I plan for things like this, other than my fear of not being in control of everything.

But I guess that I can rest easy, knowing that at least that aspect of life is taken care of. Just a little food for thought, in case any of you need to make your own arrangements...this way I know that what I want will be done, and nobody has to guess what that is. Happy days.

Nitnoy stuff, since it's been a while

2009-03-31T21:07:00.002-06:00

Wow, so its been over a month since I last posted. I guess with all the writing I do on a daily basis now, my brain hasn't wanted to conjure up anymore creative explanations for daily life. I do enough of that with the in-depth descriptors of patients' bowel programs or vague pain complaints, attempting in vain to justify their melancholy existences to governmental bodies whose job it is to regulate a person's qualifications to die in comfort. Now I will never think that it is only an ER nurse who is overworked, underappreciated and pushed beyond the physical limits on a daily basis. Just a quick shout out to all my fellow nurses, both ER and hospice, who strive every day to make some sort of an impact on a generally ungrateful society. Once in a while, someone does notice, and even when you feel like nobody cares, just remember that I think of you often and silently commiserate with you.

Now onto better and brighter things: I would like to form the anti-uterus task force, whose mission it will be to eradicate all unused and unwanted uteri (is that a word?) from the female population for all those willing to participate. I have had my child, my husband and I (thanks to previous surgery) will not be having any other children, and I have some of the worst monthly experiences a woman could have. Why in the world would I want to keep this useless, painful, leaking organ? I think I will hold my hand out for the female stimulus package, whereby the federal government will pay for my hysterectomy and time off from work for recovery. Sounds plausible, right? I think that I fall into the "minority" category with this "disability" too. Maybe all put together that would get me what I'm looking for. I'll keep you up to date on that...

As an aside, there are moments when I miss the emergency room. Not often, but specifically when I REALLY want to tell a patient's family member where to get off. That, unfortunately, is a luxury I gave up when I left the ER, as hospice nurses are typically relegated to the "angel" category: sweet, gentle, slow to anger, patient and non-judgmental. I play that role with the best of them, even on days when I don't feel like any of those things, and most days it isn't even an act. But there are days, like today, when I really wish I could educate certain families on the "hospice philosophy"--your loved one is dying, and frankly, their TSH and lidocaine levels (lidocaine is local anesthetic, not systemic, FYI) are not going to impact their quality or quantity of life. Butt out, or graduate from medical school. One or the other, I don't care which.

Ok, so I feel a little better now. I'm off to bed, in the hopes of getting fewer admissions tomorrow than I got today. Say, in the ballpark of...zero. 17 patients is plenty for me to juggle, and if I'm lucky, I'll make it back here before May.

From Tepid to Boiling

2009-02-17T20:16:00.002-07:00

Frog #1 & #2 are sitting in a pot.

Frog #1: Is it getting hot in here?

Frog #2: What are you talking about?

Frog #1: The water...does it feel warmer to you?

Frog #2: I haven't noticed anything. Why do you ask?

Frog #1: Because I think that I see little bubbles...is this water starting to boil?

Frog #2: You really don't make any sense. Now be quiet, you paranoid idiot, and put the lid back on.

So, with that being said, I'll take a chance at alienating my *large* fan base and state what I really believe. SOCIALISM, A ONE WORLD GOVERNMENT, THE RAPTURE AND SEVEN YEARS OF TRIBULATION ARE COMING VERY VERY SOON.

There. Now you will never be able to say that I didn't warn you. I am looking forward to Heaven, anytime the Lord wants to take me, and I don't even care if you all think I'm crazy. I guess we'll just see who was right on the other side, won't we?

Life Preserver

2009-02-13T20:34:00.002-07:00

This is going to be a very short posting about how I have felt this past week. The best way for me to sum it up is that I have felt like a life preserver (and if I was a little rounder, I might look like one too :)). I think it is ironic that I could feel more like a life preserver now than I ever did in the ER, where it was our job to save everyone, and especially more so in hospice where we aren't saving ANYONE. There are truly no words to describe how it feels to walk into a home, or speak with someone thousands of miles away on the phone, and know that the reason they are able to continue caring for their loved one is because of the support you provide them. I have never experienced such gratitude and appreciation for my efforts as a nurse, and I have to say that I have also never loved a job the way that I love this one. If you are a nurse who is tired of the over-worked, under-appreciated, adrenaline-addict healthcare venue you are in, and want to pour yourself into the care of your patients, then I would seriously consider hospice work. I know it's not for everyone, but I believe that the Lord put me in this position because it lets the real me blossom and grow, and there are plenty of compassionate and kind-hearted nurses who may never get to exercise their full potential because they will stay in their comfort zones. Just my two cents.

Looking back

2009-02-08T12:40:00.003-07:00

I occasionally look back on my life from time to time, and I see a mix of moments that make my heart swell with pride at my accomplishments, and moments that make me wish I had done things completely different. I believe that anyone who says they can reflect on their life and not have ANY regrets is a liar, for there is not one of us who is perfect and has not done or said something (or has failed to do or say something) that they wish could have been different.

That being said, I think that responsibility is a lost art. As I sit in my modest rental home, I become all the more nauseated as I read and watch stories about all of the people in this nation standing around with outstretched hands to our newly elected government, asking for "bailout money" from an "economic stimulus package" invented to save this nation from sure economic collapse. Why is this even being considered?

When did the hard-working Americans who ran this country for centuries breed lazy, irresponsible, needy, immature pseudo-adults who make poor choices and then expect everyone else to save them? In my limited 27 years on this planet, I have seen the moral decline of society and wonder how our grandparents and great-grandparents must feel to know that their values have fallen by the wayside, overthrown by a self-serving attitude that is outshined only by the voice of entitlement shouted across the nation.

I will be the first to admit that many of my choices in life were, in hindsight, not the best ones to have made. But I can say that for the majority of those choices, there was a lesson permanently learned, and that I have never made those mistakes again. I also thank my father for teaching me to learn from others' mistakes, so as to not make them myself. Hence why I do not own a home, nor have ever had a mortgage, or paid for a loan on more than one vehicle, or gambled in the stock market, or dabbled in drugs, or thrown my money around like I hadn't a care in the world.

So why is it, then, that I stand to benefit none from this proposed "bailout package"? Why do those Americans who made poor choices in investing, or in buying a home when they couldn't afford it, get on the list to receive a benefit from a bad decision? When do those of us, few as we are, who have not taken from the public or leeched off of our neighbors get a reward for good behavior? Never, it appears. I could have applied for Medicaid, or welfare, or an ARM at any point in my young adult life. But I didn't, because it is just not my nature to take from the system if there is some other way, ANY other way, for me to survive.

Don't get me wrong, I would love to own my own home. A 2500 square foot log home way up in the mountains, away from everyone, to be exact. But I know that realistically, without extending my family beyond their means, that is not going to happen, at least not at this point in life. I guess that instant gratification-type mentality has permeated this society to a point of no return. And just for the record, I hope this bailout package passes, and the economy still eats the big one. I get excited when I see the stock market dropping, because a large part of me wishes this nation would finally be smacked upside their entitled heads and realize that this is a mistake that cannot be covered up by throwing more worthless money at it.

So I'll just continue to plod along, working my rote little job, driving my economical little car, living in my modest rented home while the world crumbles around me. I know the time will come, sooner than you think, when all of those Hummer-driving, mortgage-owing, stock market-watching nail biters will come to us responsible citizens and ask how it is we are able to live on one income and haven't lost our homes. The sad part is, they'll be standing there with their hand out while they do it.

Oh! Ouch! You're stepping on my FEELINGS!

2009-01-27T20:43:00.006-07:00

It is sickening that we have come to a point in our society where one can no longer voice an opinion that could potentially be perceived as intolerant by anyone on Earth. I simply do not understand this train of thought. I hear plenty of things, daily, that irk me to the bone, but I keep my mouth shut because it is everyone's (watch out, I'm gonna say it) GOD given right to speak their mind and exercise free will. Now what really torques me is that when those of us who respect others' right to free speech decide to take said liberty ourselves, we are verbally spanked for "ignorance" or "intolerance". I would like to take this opportunity to illustrate my point, at the expense of my dear blog buddy and friend, on her latest post and resulting comments.

So, for the sake of all that is free and legal, I have chosen to make today my own personal Day of Intolerance. Any of you who wish to adopt this day as your own, feel free to do so. I do not hold any patents or copyrights to this label, and I think this damned country needs a serious dose of reality such as this. The world is not a warm and fuzzy, hand-holding, kumbayah-singing, dope-smoking, love your domestic-partner, convenient "embryo disposal", don't-say-that-it-hurts-my-feelings kind of place. You want to shove your immoral, whiny, entitled, intolerant demands for acceptance and approval in my face, then get ready: right back 'atcha.

I don't care if you like me, or my viewpoints, or if you care about my beliefs in God or Jesus Christ. I don't walk around demanding that you accept my statements, or that you tailor your comments to preserve my feelings. But turnabout is fair play. If you get the ability to voice your opinions and affect change for your beliefs, then so do I. And believe me, there's plenty about this God-forsaken nation that I'd love to change.

For instance, government handouts without reasonable qualifications are gone. No more welfare, Medicaid, WIC, EMTALA, and any other taxpayer-made donation to a lazy way of life. People with a true disability who qualify for Social Security or Medicare are okeydokey. All the rest of you moochers, hit the road. Maybe another country that wants to socialize and carry you, hmm?

Doctors (poor people) are forced to come up with "new" diseases to explain the otherwise unexplainable complaints their pain-in-the-rear patients continue to request pain medicine for. And I don't care what American/National/Association of Whoever's say it's a real disease. Maybe if there wasn't such a prevalence of junkie, drug-seeking jerks permeating our emergency rooms looking for their next fix, we wouldn't be so opinionated about pseudo-diseases like fibromyalgia/chronic pelvic pain that have been classified as potential drug seeking diagnoses often employed by malingerers. I know, big words. Invest in a dictionary and a brain.

I believe homosexual marriage is wrong. Just as gay/lesbian/transgender/dog/cat/cousin/pedophile relationships are wrong. I don't like/approve/tolerate/support/condone that behavior nor do I knowingly fraternize with anyone who participates in it. Keep away from me and my family. AAAAHHHHHH, the intolerance!!!!!

I believe men that minister/pastor in the ways of Rick Warren, Joel Osteen, Ted Haggard, Mark Driscoll and the like are securing their followers eternal damnation, and deserve a special place in hell themselves. And women, by authority of the Bible, you are not allowed to preach. Sorry. Look....I have an opinion. Sue me.

I believe that if you strike a healthcare provider, you should automatically be arrested and sentenced to 30 days in jail. No trial. No bail. No appeals. No I-was-drunk/high/psychotic/confused excuses without a previously diagnosed incurable mental illness that would incapacitate your ability to control your own behavior. And if that is the case, then you should probably have a court appointed guardian, since you are unable to make safe and reasonable decisions on your own.

I believe that life begins at the moment of conception (for those of you who don't know what that means, it is the moment when the sperm and the ovum join together) and extends through the moment of natural death. Anyone who "terminates" the life of a human being between these two points is a murderer, regardless of whatever politically correct reason you want to give for it. If you don't like that stigma or label, don't do it. Easy enough. Think that's bad? Check this out (and I agree with his idea as well).

Shocked and appalled? Disgusted? In disbelief that someone could be so intolerant in her feelings and opinions? Well, there's a lot more where that comes from. If you don't like it, you can leave a comment that tells me how much you don't like it. And if I don't like your comment, I'll delete it. Ahh, the power of comment moderation. Gotta love that freedom of speech and intolerance!

So this is normal....

2009-01-24T20:24:00.002-07:00

Things are different. The new job is nice; low-key and a totally new mindset, too. It's difficult to look at these patients and keep myself from thinking of ways to fix them. I love being able to single-handedly direct the majority of patients' care, though, and only consult the doctor once a week (unless I run into something strange). And being able to take the time to educate patients and families, or get things they really need just by making a phone call, feels great. I don't feel as rushed, and not nearly as jaded, but I have realized that my organizational skills could use some major improvement.

I'm drowning in paperwork! I never thought I would say this (ever), but I really think computerized charting could help here. My biggest fears, after these two weeks of orientation, revolve around this silly paperwork. I'm sure I'm going to forget to fill out some form, or run out of forms in the field and be an hour away from the office and not be able to fill out something important. Hence the multitude of binders and page protectors and folders and dividers that have been procured and planned for special spots in the trunk of my car. I'm sure one day I will long for an office job where I can put up handmade pictures from my child in my cubicle, and maybe even own a file cabinet or two. Until then, I'll just stick to my office on wheels.

All that aside, I really do enjoy the pace and scope of my newest venture. My husband and daughter seem to be glad to have me home for supper every evening, and I like going to bed at night and getting up in the morning. Strange, I know. I never thought I would have a "9 to 5" type job before I turned 40. It sure is nice that the good Lord watches out for me. And I have to laugh....I've only been gone two weeks, and already three people from the ER have called to say hi. Funny how you never know how integral a part of the team you are until you leave.

I keep praying for patience and guidance and wisdom, especially in this new position. It is so nice to have the time for introspection, not to mention compassion for other people who truly deserve it, and I don't want to waste this wonderful opportunity to grow. And to digress for a moment, I have to say thank you to my loving husband for taking time today to help me pick out fabric for my next sewing adventure. I'll have to let you all know how the skirt comes out, but if nothing else, the fabric is beautiful! And I was shocked on Wednesday to find out that one of the ladies at church would like me to make a birthday cake for her daughter's birthday next month, similar to the one I made back in November for Missions Conference. Who knew anybody else cared about my cakes?! What a nice surprise.

I hope that everyone is doing as well as we are. I do miss some of the camaraderie in the ER, and being able to turf patients that are a tad on the difficult side. I think one of the most poignant things I've learned in the past two weeks is that familes that were dysfunctional before terminal illness are going to continue to be dysfunctional after diagnosis, and there is nothing that we can do to fix it. So, we'll just form a care plan around it, and do the best we can to keep the patient comfortable. Pretty laissez-faire compared to the ER, but I bet I'll get used to it. :)

Don't infringe on my Second Amendment rights, and no one gets hurt

2009-01-10T14:43:00.014-07:00

See this gun? Ok. Besides being a semi-automatic .45 caliber handgun, is there anything that differentiates it from other handguns, especially in the arena of stopping power (or deadliness, as I'm sure the left-wing anti-gun fanatics would call it)? Yes. In fact, this particular handgun is less deadly than, say, the .357 Magnum 5-shot revolvers that preceded it. Granted, if I were shot with the above firearm, I would definitely be reconsidering the action I was attempting, but I would be more likely to survive than if I were shot with a standard .357 revolver. This is based purely on the velocity at which the bullets travel (facts and physics, I know, are confusing to those who are afraid of the big "G" word--GUNS!!!):

.357 Magnum---> velocity= 1,410 ft/second energy= 574 ft-lb of force
.45 ACP---> velocity= 1.080 ft/second energy= 518 ft-lb of force

Ok, so if I haven't lost you yet....let's move on with the above premise in mind. One of our great liberal nation's legislators has proposed the Assault Weapons Ban and Law Enforcement Protection Act of 2007, H.R. 1022, that would take out of my hands the less deadly of these two weapons, simply because it is "a semiautomatic pistol with a fixed magazine that has the capacity to accept more than 10 rounds" (see subsection G). Apparently Carolyn McCarthy (D-NY) has not taken the abbreviated version of handgun physics as provided above, and therefore is also afraid of the big "G" word. Shocking.

Now, for those of you who do not own such an "assault weapon," you may not be as outraged about this as I am. However, I would encourage you to check out the link to this bill, as there are a slew of new and updated restrictions to all classes of firearms that would be considered illegal should this bill pass. And anything not listed yet would be up to the discretion of the Attorney General as to its legality. Hmm, here in about 10 days, that's scheduled to be Eric Holder. That name sounds familiar...oh yes, he was the deputy Attorney General during the Clinton administration. Questionable pardons, unethical practices, and now dishonesty regarding dealings with our friend Mr. Blagojevich. Yep, I think I'll trust him with my Second Amendment rights....when hell freezes over.

In closing, I would like to offer a reminder of the Second Amendment guarantee to American citizens, just in case anyone forgot: "A well regulated Militia, being necessary to the security of a free State, the right of the people to keep and bear Arms, shall not be infringed." So, I will be purchasing for myself in the near future a handgun that will not (at least initially) be outlawed, should such an asinine bill as this be passed in the coming years. Take a good look, because if you come to take my guns away, it may be the last thing you see.

Pronto al Viaggio

2009-01-06T00:32:00.005-07:00

I have an itch. And it seems to be getting worse, as I will be unable to scratch it until this coming Thursday. I am ready to leave this God-forsaken hole and move on, even if it ends up being just as mentally exhausting and terribly nauseating as the ER. At least I will be able to say that I gave it my best effort. And not staying on PRN makes it even more permanent, as I will not have a safety net to fall into in case there is something about hospice that I don't happen to like. So, in light of my pending exodus, I feel that a list of some reasons why I am leaving the ER is in order. Note: this list is by no means exhaustive, nor is it ranked. :)

1. Condescending, know-it-all doctors who do NOT know it all.
2. Rude, angry, physically and verbally abusive patients.
3. Impatient patients (oxymoron?), family members, and friends.
4. Parents of small children who double as imbeciles.
5. Untrained, underqualified security guards (I don't use that term loosely).
6. Unsafe working conditions and asinine policies/regulations.
7. Surplus of non-emergency conditions clogging up beds needed for real emergencies.
8. Alcoholism, drug abuse, and mental health disorders.
9. Lazy, unmotivated, slacker co-workers.
10. Administration without a clue, but with enough hot air to float the Hindenburg.

I don't see an end in sight for any of these issues, and unfortunately with the inauguration of Mr. Obama this month, I believe it will only get worse. So I will watch from a different venue, and listen to my friends' lamentations when they experience first-hand these sickening frustrations over and over again. And I will refer to this list if I ever suffer from a bout of nostalgia for the ER, for as my loving husband said, if I even entertain the thought of returning to the ER for at least a few years, we will have the biggest argument we've ever had. I don't think I want to go there. So, I'll get ready to leave (again), and see what the Lord has in store for us when I take this leap of faith.

Merry Christmas

2008-12-25T23:43:00.002-07:00

I want to wish all of you a very merry Christmas, and if I don't get around to it before the 31st, a happy new year as well. I pray that this coming year brings the saving power of Jesus Christ to everyone, and that hearts will soften to accept a true faith in Him before it is eternally too late. May God bless you, all who believe on Him.

"And she shall bring forth a son, and thou shalt call his name Jesus: for he shall save his people from their sins." Matthew 1:21 (KJV)

Bargains and Bozos

2008-12-20T20:14:00.007-07:00

I am always amazed how things seem to work out for good in my life. I know that there are those who want to call it luck, or good fortune, or coincidence, but I know better. God is watching out for me and for my family. I would be doing well to remember that instead of wasting time worrying about things that are beyond my control.

Case in point: I got paid this week, and after rent and other bills, including an inflated utilities bill that must be related to the ever-increasing cost of flushing my toilet (???), we had a finite amount of money left with which to get our groceries. I had anticipated another bare minimum shopping trip, like we've been doing for the past month or two, getting only the necessities and living off of what we had stored up in the pantry till a good sized paycheck surfaced. The number we had to work with tonight was by no means the size we usually have to do a decent restocking of the groceries and toiletries that we were out of, and I was a little nervous because my special face cleaning bar (the one that keeps me from completely reverting to adolescent puberty skin) had been stretched so thin that you could see through it, and I wasn't sure we would be able to afford another one this go 'round. Not to mention the hair color that I know I don't need, but boy wouldn't it be nice to have something to cover the grays that have multiplied since the last time I let my color grow out too far....

Well, not only did we have enough to get everything we needed to make it another two weeks , but we restocked most everything we had used over the past couple of months (yay skin bar and cheap hair color!) and got all the fixin's we needed for a great Christmas dinner. Plus, I have enough to put gas in the car and get our daughter's annual Christmas eve ornament, and have just a little bit left over to keep the account open. It's not that we found tons of sale items or wiped out the dented can section of the grocery store. And it wasn't luck, or coincidence, or good fortune. The good Lord always knows what we need and takes care of us in His time, not ours. We have yet to run out of or truly want for anything, and for that I am truly thankful and consider myself blessed.

I had to laugh when, while shopping at our large local retail-and-grocery-combo store (name withheld), our daughter said to me "Mommy, why don't people say excuse me?" and "why don't people seem happy? They just don't have any cheer." She was right, for sure, as we watched people frantically search for something, anything, to buy for Christmas. Because, for goodness sake, we wouldn't want to forget anyone in the gift-giving frenzy....funny how the looks of hurried frustration were shadowed by looks of despair and worry. I only saw one other person shopping off of a list, and I'm pretty sure I was the only one perusing the aisles with a calculator in hand. But what frustrated me the most were the selfish, unfocused bozos who didn't care who they ran over to get to the "great deals". I was just there for my bi-weekly grocery shopping, which I do faithfully every two weeks, so I should have been the one giving the dirty looks when someone cut me off on the way to the green beans. You're on my turf, buddy. Step aside, or at least say excuse me. Golly.

So, if I haven't bored you to tears and you're still reading, you've probably gathered that we aren't spending tons on Christmas this year. We did some very economical (read: cheap and frugal bargain) shopping at ChristianBook.com late last month, but that's the extent of our financial expressions of love and joy at the coming of our Lord. Oh, wait. I think I heard somewhere that that's not what Christmas is about...but nobody wants to hear about that selfless, religious dribble, right?

I interviewed with a local hospice on Friday for a case manager position. I don't know how it will turn out, but I was lovingly notified by my buddy today that she was contacted for a reference and (thankfully) provided a glowing recommendation. At least I know that they weren't so turned off by my interview that they threw my application in the trash. My new, and completely irrational, fear is that I will get hired and not be able to perform as well as I do in the ER. I have a comfort zone, and it's very difficult to think about leaving it for new and unfamiliar territory. What if this job isn't the right one? What if the reason there's a vacancy is because it's a wolf in sheep's clothing, and I'll have resigned from the ER and have nothing else to do but suck it up and take on the new problems that were left behind by the person before me? Aarrgghh. And I wonder why I've never been able to leave the ER before....

The Pants!

2008-11-22T03:21:00.002-07:00

So, I said I would get these little boogers done before Christmas and, lo, here they are. Big thanks to my spatially oriented husband, and his daughter and son-in-law, for putting up with the interruptions while I tried to figure out how to not sew the butt together or make them look like chaps. And yes, I could have bought jammy pants at WalMart, but they would not have been made by me. Now my daughter will forever remember the story of the penguin pants and tell her children and her children's children about the Christmas her mother made her jammies (after the fabric gathered dust for months on the table). Anyhoo, here they are--

Lost

2008-11-20T17:28:00.003-07:00

I have a hard time listening to mainstream media discuss daily news stories or the latest events. I don't like being around people, because so many of them are leading lives out of focus, based on material things and feel-goods. Churches are prospering now with doctrine rooted in apostasy and worldly things and whatever makes you "happy". Our wise and forceful pastor reminds us frequently that "happiness" is based on "happenings", but that if we are saved by the blood of Jesus Christ we shall always have joy, no matter what the circumstances.

I'm tired of drunken, self-serving, gossiping, hateful, angry, needy, tolerant patients and co-workers and supervisors and family (mine and theirs). I truly loathe shopping with people that talk on their cell phones rather than interacting with their children. What has this world come to? Is it truly all about what we want? How many people do you see every day that think about what God's will is for their lives? It makes me sad to consider that there might be fewer and fewer people every day, as so many are falling into the trap of worldliness and pleasure.

People may eventually figure me out, but for now I have such a great time in anonymity putting gospel tracts on the windshield of the car next to me whenever I pull into a parking lot (teeheehee). And I've never found one on the ground when I come back out of the store. Maybe the Lord will be able to use me to reach one of these lost souls. Until then, I'll keep praying for His swift return and that He might use me as an instrument for His will.

New Stuff

2008-11-16T23:52:00.003-07:00

For anyone who's a follower of my blog (I stopped counting at three, which is slowly approaching a crowd...), you have already seen the obvious difference. For the rest of you, I have a new template and picture, as of today. The scene depicted behind my title bar is that of Petra, Jordan at night. If you don't know about the historical (and future) significance of Petra, I would highly recommend researching it. I find this area of the Middle East, along with the entire Holy Land of course, to be fascinating and, if the situation were not so volatile, would love to visit there someday. However, I believe that by the time a peace treaty comes to pass in Israel, I will be in a much safer and more beautiful place. But I digress....

I will also keep you all posted about my recent application to the ICU at our newest hospital in the north end of town. I feel that a change in venue is essential for the health and well-being of myself, my family, and every angry and spiteful patient that visits my ER. While not having taken the Hippocratic Oath myself, I still subscribe to the mantra "first, do no harm". And unfortunately, as of late, that has become more and more challenging to adhere to. So, a lateral move in said nursing career would be, I think, a more intelligent choice and a better use of my critical care skill set than would, say, a leap into a totally different genre of care. We'll see how that goes. (Yes, I know that I said I would stay in the ER because it keeps sucking me back in....green grass....fences. I know. What can I say?)

Missions Conference

2008-11-09T01:30:00.002-07:00

Missions conference was great! Our church hosted a total of 6 families, 5 of whom are missionaries outside the continental United States. We had an entire week's worth of testimonies and preaching about spreading the gospel of Christ to those who would otherwise not receive it, and then a HUGE spread of food in potluck fashion on Saturday night. This cake was one of my contributions, as we were supposed to bring food from our home states/regions. Gotta say, after that cake decorating class I just took, I am so much more comfortable decorating cakes on my own. Plus, now I'm creating freehand succulent plants. What more could a girl ask for??

We left there so stuffed, I wondered if we were all bordering on gluttony! :) Hubby took some great pictures, and we are blessed to be able to provide those to the visiting families as momentos of their visit with us. I've been so surprised already at the willingness of my heart to "let go and let God", to put it simply. I know that our Faith Promise Missions pledge will be even more money every week, besides tithing, that we'll be giving to the Lord. But I have a peace in my heart that God will use this opportunity to prove His faithfulness to our family, and I'm not worried about where the money will come from for us to survive. The Lord works in mysterious ways, sometimes, and I am always amazed to see His hand in my life. Now if I could just remember to keep my eyes fixed on Him, instead of this screwy, mixed up world....

Enter at your own risk

2008-11-07T02:32:00.003-07:00

WARNING: the following post is the result of one burned-out nurse's tumultuous week. Proceed with caution.

I think I will make a list of the top five areas of nursing that I might find interesting, arrange them on a dart board, and make it a true toss up as to where I should apply. Because right now, you couldn't pay me enough to continue to endure the constant bickering, whining and laziness that is the ER. And don't even get me started on the patients' behavior.

If you don't know how to do something, quit pretending that you do. Because if I decide all of a sudden to stop carrying your sorry nurse's ass, your patients are going to die. Plain and simple. I'm sure their loved ones would appreciate your admitting "I don't know how to do that" or "I could really use some help here, would you please take this patient for me?" Post-script: that funny looking wavy line on the monitor is called v-tach. Do something about it besides standing there looking stupid.

Don't bolus the hell out of your patient with the Diprivan if you don't intend on staring at the monitor for the next 5 minutes. It drops their blood pressure. Duh.

If I look like I'm about to snap, don't ask me "are you ok?" Gee, do I look ok? What do you think? You wouldn't be asking me that if I didn't look like I wanted to stand in the ambulance bay waiting for an opportunity to hitch a ride the heck out of here, now would you? Unless you can find something constructive to do to lighten my load, without interrupting my train of thought to tell you what needs to be done, just shut up and continue your conversation with the three other co-workers about that great party you all got drunk at. It's ok. Really. The work-ethic class was optional in school. I was one of the two that signed up.

If you tie the restraint to the side rail, don't look surprised when you walk out of the room and I re-tie it. I like the ET tube where it is. Call me silly.

Believe it or not, I actually know some stuff. So even though you are an old nurse, or an egotistical, womanizing snot of a man with MD behind his name, I may know something you don't. And yes, I do secretly swell a little inside when I am able to prove that. Makes me wonder what I could do with a little effort in another arena. Are there any nursing foci that provide for the basic need of gratitude or appreciation? Or even more base than that, is there a nursing job where your co-workers (a) work just as hard as you do, all the time, (b) know enough to keep their own patients alive, (c) aren't all a bunch of drunks? I am in search of this position.

I think it is a sick trick, this ER nursing addiction. Kind of like being on a heroin high, if I understand heroin addiciton correctly. You sacrifice feeling like crap 99% of the time for that 1% where you feel like you're on top of the world. Just makes me wanna puke. How about a little Phenergan, right here in the left cheek. Easy to do; I'm already bent over.

Cake, Part Trois

2008-11-01T20:33:00.006-06:00

First, I must respond to being tagged on Blissful Entropy's site. Apparently, one word answers are the appropriate response to the following questions, so here goes...

1. Where is your cell phone? Table
2. Where is your significant other? Recliner
3. Your hair color? Red
4. Your mother? Loving
5. Your father? Concerned
6. Your favorite thing? Bible
7. Your dream last night? Traumas
8. Your dream/goal? Peacefulness
9. The room you are in? Family
10. Your hobby? Reading
11. Your fear? Temptation
12. Where do you want to be in six years? Heaven
13. Where were you last night? Kitchen
14. What you're not? Patient
15. One of your wish list items? Sewing box
16. Where you grew up? Colorado
17. The last thing you did? Blinked
18. What are you wearing? Overalls
19. Your T.V.? On
20. Your pet? Neurotic
21. Your computer? Broken
22. Your mood? Apathetic
23. Missing someone? No
24. Your car? Retarded
25. Something you're not wearing? Makeup
26. Favorite store? Target
27. Your Summer? Fair
28. Love someone? Absolutely
29. Your favorite color? Blue
30. When is the last time you laughed? Today
31. Last time you cried? Yesterday

And now for the pièce de résistance--

Now I can say that I'm certified in Wilton basic cake decorating; not that that was on my list of certifications to obtain, but hey I think it's cool! And my sister in law gets tons of credit for her creative and difficult final cake, seen here:

We had a great time, and I swear my hand is stronger now after squeezing all that "too-stiff" frosting through the bags. But the bane of my existence was overcome this week, as I finally mastered the ROSE. I had absolutely no confidence in my ability to form fatty sugar into a flower such as that, and as such makes me question my decision to not take any more of these classes. We'll see what happens after the holidays. Maybe I'll work up the nerve to try course two...

Next on my creative list: penguin jammy pants. I will get these done before Christmas!

Great big thank you to my loving husband for helping me, cleaning up after me, and being so wonderfully supportive these past few weeks. I love you honey!

My second (cup) cake

2008-10-26T02:04:00.003-06:00

Next week is my final cake class for this course. Then I have to decide if I want (and am good enough) to advance on to the next course. We'll see. But they sure have turned out pretty yummy! I'm excited about the finale, because I get to use all that we have learned so far to make my own cake creation, and in my head it looks really nice. :) Stay tuned....

My first cake

2008-10-18T21:50:00.005-06:00

Here's my first cake! After the first baking attempt with the infamous "cake release" liquid (which acted like glue, not release), we finally got a double layer, filled cake that frosted and decorated quite nicely, if I do say so myself. It has a yummy filling, that we've dubbed "dented can filling" because its main ingredient came from the dented can section at the grocery store. :) More pictures to come, hopefully next week.

Clearing the cache

2008-10-13T00:07:00.003-06:00

So, this is going to be completely random, a bit soap-boxey, and full of rhetorical questions I'm sure, but I'm gonna write it anyhow. My doggie snores, louder than anyone else in the house. I think it's cute.

This life is not candy and roses and days off and free money and easy-going, discipline-free happy times. This life has rules and trials and tribulations and hurt and pain and confusion and disappointment and worry and missed opportunities. And it sucks if you have nothing to look forward to, and no one to lean on.

Couples marry for lust (for each other) and divorce for lust (for themselves, and sometimes for someone else). How many people do you know that have fallen in "love" and one, or both, of them "fall out of love" just as quickly? I wonder if they ever realize that it was never love; it was physical lust, or co-dependence, or a pacifier for the fear of being alone, or just plain selfishness. But hey, why not? It's all about what we want anyway, right?

I'm willing to bet that most of the people reading this post will skim over the next few questions and not REALLY answer them, truthfully, in their own mind. Oh well, here goes.

Are you feeling lonely? Sad? Scared? Depressed? Frustrated? Guilty? Empty? Worthless? Angry? Why are you feeling that way?

Who are you accountable to? What happens to you when you die? Who do you care about? Do you love anything, truly, more than you love yourself--i.e. would you give up all of your selfish wants and even your life? If so, what/who?

(And now for the squirming, heavy sighs, and general uncomfortableness, because these questions are just "too personal", right?)

Is anything keeping you from surrendering your heart to a loving and merciful God, who knows all of your pain and the desires of your heart? How long are you going to wait?

Jeremiah 29:11
Hebrews 11:1
Psalm 37:4
John 3:16
Hebrews 8:12

Even if you don't have a Bible, I challenge you to look up these 5 verses. Just Google them. Aren't you tired of feeling the way you do?

Life still sucks sometimes. Honest, it does. But I know that I have wondrous times waiting for me, and I'm not in control, which is the best thing of all. Because my life gets screwed up the most when I try to take the wheel and drive. And there's only one insurance policy that will insure me now, after all of the accidents I've had. Thank God that He's willing to take a chance on me, and you.

Cake! Et al.

2008-10-11T00:02:00.005-06:00

I know, it sounds good, huh? :) I'm taking a class with my sister-in-law at the local Michaels on cake decorating; more specifically on Wilton cake decorating, which is apparently high-end professional stuff. Not cheap, by any means, if the supplies are any indication of the quality of the final product...anyhoo, I was surprised that our first homework assignment was to make AND frost a two-layer round cake using the buttercream recipe the instructor just showed us tonight, and bring 4 cups of the same frosting with us to class next week, in differing textures and five different colors, with which to decorate our cake, using the starter kit we had to buy this evening.

Good golly, I thought this would be like the cake decorating class I took in high school. You know, show up for a hour, try out different tips on the paper boards using the icing in the communal bowl, blah blah blah. Boy, was I wrong. And who's going to eat the cake I make every week? My poor, deprived hubby is lucky if I make a cake twice a year. I can say with great certainty that my waistband is not looking forward to the larger numbers in the near future. But at least my cakes will be pretty, even if I can't fit into my pants anymore....

We took care of the doggies today, after a minor (ok, major) freakout on my part about an isolated flea that I saw on my pup three days ago. They had been in the garage and backyard since then, because I will not have any kind of insect infestations in my house. I'll be honest and call a spade a spade here, I can be a bit neurotic at times. Yes, I was somewhat harsh, and no, we didn't find any other fleas on them, but regardless they both earned a full bath at the local do-it-yourself washing place/pet store combo. Poor things. At least we got them a couple of bones and a bag of horribly pricey, unnecessary gourmet treats in apology. Sheesh.

Tomorrow: the car and its associated problems are improved. Never a dull moment.

My sides hurt

2008-10-05T01:25:00.001-06:00

Who is stealing all my time??!!

2008-09-27T20:33:00.002-06:00

Sitting here on the eve of another work week, I realize that there are still so many things that I didn't get done on these three days off. The penguin fleece remains on my dining room table, awaiting the pinning or cutting or any other attention that might someday result in their transformation into pajama pants for my daughter. I never did get around to making the bread I was going to, and I still need to find the TV antenna in the myriad of boxes in my garage. And the grocery shopping fell by the wayside, too.

I spent most of my days off at some type of Taekwondo function, trying to find an activity that will build discipline and focus in my flitting and disorganized child. Don't get me wrong, she is beautiful and intelligent and kind; however, she reminds me of a raccoon, getting distracted when something shiny catches her eye. So for the next week and a half, she will be training in Taekwondo under a trial program. Assuming she does well (which she appears to be already), then we'll be pinching pennies to send her to the 6 month program that will end with an orange belt in Taekwondo. I'm afraid to ask how much it might cost after that 6 month program, whereby she would enter into the Black Belt Club and begin working toward her black belt. I pray I don't regret this in three to four months, because there are a lot of things that I could do with this money besides indulge her most recent fancy. And I'm really going to miss sleeping in/lounging around on days off, since we'll be taking her to classes during 2 of those days, accompanied by church services on the 3rd day. Ugh. Some days I wonder about me....

I'm going to sign off now, and work on my CEN test prep for a bit before I head off to bed. We're all getting baptised at services tomorrow, so I have to be a little more bright-eyed and bushy-tailed. Can't wait for next week, where I don't have to work on the same day I go to church. This was a really random post...maybe I'll have a more cohesive topic to write on next time. And hopefully it will be sooner than a month from now. Guess I just haven't had the time. :)

The simple things

2008-08-29T23:03:00.002-06:00

I do love the simple things. That might make me boring, or plain, or mediocre, but that's okay too. So I thought, for posterity if nothing else, I would make a list of "a few of my favorite things". :)

1. Thunderstorms
2. Comfort foods
3. A mystery novel, light blanket, and a cup of cocoa
4. Snuggling
5. Hot bubble baths in candlelight
6. Planning a hope chest for my daughter
7. Surprise dinners from my husband
8. Good morning hugs from my daughter
9. Napping in my recliner on a cloudy day
10. My doggies
11. Snow
12. Thanksgiving and Christmas-time
13. Growing old with the love of my life
14. Babies
15. A comfy bed with soft sheets washed in vanilla lavender fabric softener
16. Scented candles
17. Watching my favorite shows uninterrupted
18. Browsing WalMart and leaving without buying anything
19. Not smoking
20. Days without phone calls
21. Freshly vacuumed rugs
22. Pastor's sermons
23. Fuzzy socks
24. Cozy pajamas, big sweatshirts and fat pants
25. Sleeping in with hubby, waking up without the alarm clock
26. Pain-free days
27. When my husband tells me I'm beautiful
28. Watching my daughter grow into a lovely, strong young woman
29. Talking with God
30. Flowers
31. Listening to elderly people tell stories
32. My wedding rings
33. Doing little things to make people happy

Ok, I feel better now. It's always nice to have those warm and fuzzy things down to review from time to time. I hope you all have a list of simple things that make you happy, too. Sure does make life enjoyable when everything else seems to be going to hell in a handbasket. Any day, Lord. Any day.

I should memorize this

2008-08-09T01:05:00.002-06:00

I'm sorry in advance
[A nurse knows before she starts that she can't meet all the needs. She'll focus on those most critical, and try to give a caring touch to all the rest.]

I'm sorry in advance
Your bed's not made today
But I have a patient here
Whose chest pain won't go away.

I'm sorry in advance
You're not happy with your meal
Dietary does try hard sir,
To give it some appeal.

I'm sorry in advance
Your morning pills are late
I've a patient climbing out of bed
That I must try to sedate.

I'm sorry in advance
Your mattress isn't soft
We do need some new beds ma'am
But these things do cost a lot.

I'm sorry in advance
I didn't get to comb your mother's hair
I've a patient with emphysema
She's scared, she can't get air.

I'm sorry in advance
Your father's still in pain
I'm trying to reach his doctor
I'll have to try again

I'm sorry in advance
Your dressings aren't yet done
But a patient has just passed away,
I offered solace to his son.

I'm sorry in advance
I'm not cheery as a bird
I've worked 12 hours, my feet ache
I asked for help, but no one heard.

I'm sorry in advance
I've only two hands and two feet
I'm trying to care for you, patient
Your needs, I want to meet.

My 12 hours now are 16,
No replacement could be found
My aching feet, they cry out
My head begins to pound

I'm sorry in advance
I cannot meet your gaze
My eyes are filled with tears
Your face is just a haze.

If I could sit down for a minute
And maybe grab a bite
Phone my kids to say I love them
And I'll be late again tonight.

I'm sorry in advance
I didn't do all that must be done
If I worked any faster
I'd soon begin to run.

When I do get to hold your hand
Or wipe your furrowed brow
Please understand, dear patient
I care for you and how.

I see your pain, I sense your fear
Your anger in a glance,
Our health care service is failing you
I'm sorry in advance.

:: written by and borrowed from Linda Leeson, LPN

Something I ran across in my wanderings, and hope to keep in mind when my thoughts stray down the angry path in the depths of the ER. I need to learn patience, and gentleness, even if the crass and cynical me is better understood by my co-workers. I think too often I fall away from the real, God-fearing me when I'm at work, forgetting why it is I do this job. I guess my standard prayer for protection and guidance stays behind, somewhere between the parking lot and the door. Better work on that.

I'm rude....or so they tell me

2008-07-14T02:25:00.003-06:00

Courtesy of my friends at Webster dictionary---

Rude: 1. discourteous or impolite, esp in a deliberate way; 2. without culture, learning, or refinement; 3. rough in manners or behavior

I was told today, by a patient's family member in triage, "you don't have to be rude." Now, while I will admit to being direct and concise in my speakings to many people on the other side of the plexiglass partition, I have never actually been rude. Even as much as I've wanted to, or as many times as I've near bitten my tongue clean off keeping from saying what was REALLY on my mind.

I simply told this woman, the mother of the 20-something grown woman patient, that "I don't need your (transfer) papers right now; keep ahold of them and they'll take it in the back." When she attempted to give the papers to me a second time, I stated again "no, ma'm, I don't need those yet. I can look at them when I call you back if I need to. I know why you're here; the other hospital called and gave me report already."

I fail to see how that was, by definition, rude. I said ma'm, and I was neither without culture or learning, nor was I discourteous or impolite. I didn't tell her to sit down, shut the hell up, and mind her own damn business, like I really wanted to. Or that if I wanted her stupid discharge paperwork from the half-ass hospital she was transferred from, I would have asked for it. Nor did I tell her that if she hadn't taught her grown child how to eat half a cow at once or do nothing besides sit around watching soap operas all day, she probably wouldn't have the giant surgical ass abscess that she has now.

That would have been rude.

Quiet success (and other musings)

2008-07-11T19:10:00.003-06:00

Our brunch/Bible study day went off without a hitch, finally, even on 3 hours sleep. I think what kept me up was my thoughts of family and how many new worries I have as our daughter gets older. And I came to the realization, as cliche as it sounds, that I am more like my own mother now than I ever have been. That's a good thing, by the way. But I still have much to learn in her ways, especially grace and patience. Those seem to elude me still....

We have the same worry wrinkle between our eyebrows. Hers has always been deeper than mine, but I have a feeling as our daughter gets closer to her teenage years, I won't have trouble catching up to the canyon I created for Mom. She's been applying anti-wrinkle cream to that spot for going on 10 years. I probably owe her a bottle or two by now.

I understand so many things, when I take the time to quiet my heart and listen to the Lord speak to me. Last night it revolved around my fears for our daughter in a world that seems to distort all that we try to teach her, especially with regard to God and the Bible. I know, talking about such things makes many people uncomfortable. I wonder, who of those same people consider how uncomfortable it makes us to NOT talk about God, or even more to hear other people deny Him and try to keep us from being able to teach our children about Him.

I can't explain how fulfilling it was for me to spend yesterday and today preparing food and putting together this meager gathering for our family and 3 other women. And my gratefulness to my husband is indescribible , for the efforts and enthusiasm he put forth for such a small, yet meaningful, occasion. He consistently pleases and surprises me. But the most rewarding and mysterious part of this was how freeing it felt to openly discuss our own life challenges in the context of God's plan for our lives.

One would think that working in a Catholic hospital would provide some outlet for such conversation, but unfortunately I don't think it's that easy. Without going into a long(er) story, I still feel like I missed the opportunity to save a man (truly save, not in the physical sense) from death the other night. I did all I could do to save his worn and broken body, but when the Lord spoke to me in the quiet of the beeping monitors and rapid breathing, when it was just him and me, I failed to listen. In fact, I ignored God. And I attribute that to an insecurity of how my employer would interpret my witnessing, but more so to a simple and immature fear. One that stems from my own selfishness and wish to not be uncomfortable.

So from now on, when the Spirit moves me, I'm going to do my very best to say what I'm feeling, regardless of who I may offend. Because in the long run, I'm not here to please y'all. I've got my reward waiting, after I take up this cross and follow.

I'm glad I don't understand

2008-07-05T23:43:00.003-06:00

Abusive relationships, thankfully, are fairly foreign to me. I do have the suitcases full of baggage from the emotional and mental abuse that I allowed (and occasionally embraced) in my life over the years, mostly from one or two people in particular. And I do understand how one can be so wrapped up in the need to be loved that they will endure just about anything to attain that. However, I have never suffered the kind of physical and emotional abuse that would land me in the ER. Thank God.

Maybe it's because any man I've ever been involved with, or been related to, has understood the rarely spoken rule I have about touching me in any way that I might interpret as hostile or threatening. Generally, I have only had to say it one time for the brevity of my statement to sink in. If you ever lay a hand on me in anger, it will be the last time you ever do. Now, for the sake of not incriminating myself should such a situation ever arise, I will leave it at that.

This ruined, pathetic wisp of a woman came in today. And we had to make her come, put her on a hold and everything. She didn't even have the self-preservation mechanism left to seek medical attention on her own for her severe head injuries, multiple new (and old) bruises, and bite marks. I guess she must have had some fight left in her at some point, because the white, frothy penile discharge of a husband she has had to tie her up at the crack of dawn to be able to beat her throughout the day. With his feet and closed fists and a metal pipe. As gut-wrenching as this was, what was worse is that the PD has been called out for the exact same thing more than once before. And each time, she refuses to go to the court hearings, to follow through with the charges.

After her story and the way she looked drove a number of us nurses to tears, there was one resounding theme that remained: maybe if we pooled our money, we could bail him out of jail....as much as nurses know about saving lives, it sure isn't a far stretch to know how not to. Watch out, all of you who think it's okay to hurt innocent people. Someday you will run into a person with a sense of justice that outweighs their restraint.

Welcome to The Journey

2008-07-04T01:47:00.002-06:00

I'll make this short and sweet. I need to lose some weight. For a myriad of reasons, but mostly because I hate being 26 and not able to fit into the jeans I wore when I was 24. So, if you'd like, follow along with my progress at the bottom of the page. I'll update it weekly, and we'll see how this goes. (Hopefully this works out better than my feeble attempt to quit smoking.)

Sometimes I wish I could just sleep till the Rapture

2008-06-28T00:54:00.003-06:00

Twenty years ago, I would have thought it scary to have an attempted murder next door. Now what is scary is that I don't. I was curious, yes, as to why the CSI van and yellow caution tape were at my neighbors' house tonight. But it all made sense now, coupled with my daughter's casual "there were police cars outside this morning" comment when I woke up this afternoon. Evidently the police were there for a different reason; not the recent overblown eviction across the street from last week. Now it seems that the insanity has stretched its long and menacing fingers into the lives of our seemingly quiet and content next door neighbors. Who knows what set him off. It could have been a million things, it seems. I wonder if history books will ever truly represent this steep downturn in the moral fabric of society. And more than that, I wonder if there will be anyone left who cares.

I dropped the charges against the guy who hit me back in December, while I was working at our local hospital. Some states say it is a felony to assault a healthcare worker. Others, like our lovely state, believe it is just a risk you take. Part of the job, you know. I couldn't see pursuing my own personal vendetta against him, especially after he really did make a life change of his own accord. Prior to our quaint little "mediation" meeting, I really wanted to turn the screws to this guy, to make an example out of him that said to the rest of the scum bag drunks "hey jackass, us nurses aren't going to take your crap anymore. Get your own damn sandwich and if you think about laying a hand on me, I'm gonna break your arm into three different pieces before I have you arrested." Much to the chagrin of my internal justice, he straightened up (quite nicely, to his credit) and I couldn't do anything but congratulate him and sign the request to let all this go. Strange.

Food costs too damn much. And so does gas. Bills suck too. And I get tired of hearing the police chopper overhead at night. I really want to quit smoking, and then ten minutes later I want to get a second job so I can afford to keep smoking. That's a little schizo, I think. Probably comes from the nicotine withdrawl, since I haven't had a smoke in three hours and I know I don't have any more. Smoked the last one. And I won't go out and spend my last $40 to get another pack. I'll be lucky if I'm not sleeping in a motel by Monday because we're both trying to quit and subsequently bite each others' heads off. I wonder if preserving my marriage is a valid reason to keep smoking....

I think I need to go to bed. I'm looking at the front side of four nights, and they don't look very pretty. And even after all my whining and bitchy complaints, I know there are plenty of people out there who have it a hell of a lot worse than I do. Lord, if you're listening, please bring your peace to my worldly, tumultuous soul and help me keep my eyes on the beautiful end of all of this. Amen and goodnight.

When patients stick

2008-06-13T02:15:00.004-06:00

So, back to the wonderful world of ER nursing, as I have strayed from the topic for the past few posts. Just finished up a run of 3 12's last night, which is tame in comparison to my buddies K and Blissful Entropy, and am finally regaining my strength and mental functioning enough to write. Also looking forward to a well-deserved BBQ with buddies tomorrow, and some overdue garden weeding and fertilization. Ahh, home.

This last run of days on left me with a sour taste in my mouth, not because of the usual frustrations and musings I usually write about, but because every night I took care of someone that in all honesty should never have ended up in the ER, if the world were perfect. We'll start with Monday night.

A little background here, before I get into this. There are two major Level II trauma centers in this town, and I have worked at both of them. The first ED I ever worked in is in what will now be referred to as Hospital A. The ED I work at now will be Hospital B. Not too confusing, just limits the number of bridges I can burn without it coming back to bite me.

Anyhow, when I used to work at Hospital A, which is the city hospital, I cared for a greater than average number of our city drunks. Even began to welcome them back, by name, to the "behavioral" section of the ER when they would return. Some of them you hope to never see again, probably because they threw/spilled/misaimed some bodily fluid in your direction or called you one of many lovely names as you gave them their sandwich. (See Blissful Entropy's side-blog, http://emshumor.blogspot.com, for a nice compilation of such names.) But there are those that you feel sorry for, WAY deep down, and hope that someday they pull themselves out of the gutter.

So, Monday night at Hospital B, I happened to receive a patient by AMR that I had taken care of many, many times at Hospital A. He is one that I have often found myself wondering about, musing that he must have moved (or died) because it had been so long since I had seen him. And I hardly even recognized him as he walked past the nurses' station flanked by AMR medics. He had put on about 20 pounds, and didn't even resemble the emaciated and chronic pancreatitis-inflicted person he was before. And he was walking. Every other time I had seen him, he was far from independently ambulatory, and more often was nearing the ammonia cap-popping stage.

As I got report, I realized that the presenting complaint was the same as it was every other time: constant abdominal pain and alcohol on board. Sigh. So I went into the room and said "T, are you going to behave for us tonight, or am I going to need to put you on a watch?" He assured me that he would behave, and I believed him because (most of the time) he did. Some nights, though, he would get a wild hair and decide to get all froggy. Always good to find out how he planned to do things from the get-go.

The double-take he gave me once he decided to make eye contact was strangely reassuring and the smallest bit rewarding: he remembered me, even in his BAL .414 stupor. Which means that at some point, I made a mark in his life, and not through strategic pressure point utilization or loud, repetitive requests to "lay down and be quiet, and if you try to leave I'm going to have these nice large security officers come talk to you". I never did have to use those on him. And, as it turns out, the reason he had put on weight and I hadn't seen him was because he had been serving time down in the southern part of the state, and he couldn't drink while he was there. He had just gotten out a month ago and, in his words, "I slipped". We had the same conversation about how he needs to quit drinking, talked about how his kids and brother and mom are, asked about my family and how I've been, etc. He even said please and thank you, and remembered my name. Heartwarming and crappy all at the same time.

Tuesday night was more of the rock-in-the-pit-of-my-stomach kind of nursing. 16 year old male, barely conscious, brought in by private vehicle and accompanied by his 16 year old buddy, and the driver still waiting in the car. Which I guess was arranged for quick departure once the "friend" made sure the patient was going to live, and found out that we contacted the patient's parents. Yep, you guessed it: alcohol. Turns out the boy's BAL was only .155, but he almost bought himself a tube, and his clothes were nicely packaged up in a belongings bag in the hopes that he could someday get the alcohol vomit smell out of them.

Mom and Dad, once they arrived, were strange to say the least. According to Mom, she and Dad were his foster parents, involved in the middle of a nasty divorce, and Dad was a raging alcoholic himself. I began to believe that he probably was, since he arrived and soon turned into an ass, asking why his son had to be in the ER and couldn't he just take him home. Duh, stupid rabbit. Alcohol is bad for kids. I gave him just enough of a dose of ER attitude to make him realize this was serious, then proceeded to fix his kid and send them on their hungover way.

Turns out, Wednesday night was not any better, and strangely just a continuation of Tuesday. I never did very well in Statistics, but I have a feeling I should have won the lottery last night if my luck is any indication. Double trauma patch, one full and one modified, the modified being mine and consisting of 16 year old male passenger on dirt bike rollover, multiple facial trauma and positive loss of conscious, stable vitals. Unknown speed, no helmet.

Well, after sifting through the info, I find out he had literally been sipping on gin and juice, and partaking of the green leafies, as evidenced by the pipe that fell out of his pocket in front of the police in the room. Oops. "But I'm not intoxicated, ma'am." Uh huh, just like the one I had last night....hmm, maybe I need to investigate this a bit, because this kid sounds and looks a lot like the one who dropped off Mr. YoungDrunk last night....hey, do you know what happened here last night? "Yeah." Were you the one who dropped him off? "No, I think you're talking about C."

Yep, sure enough, when he dropped his name I remembered that WAS the kid who dropped and ran last night. So these kids seem to be running in the same circle of "friends", and I end up taking care of them in my ER. I read this kid the riot act, and told him to pass it along to all his buddies when he got out: I do not want to see any more of you kids in my ER, drunk and injured and making my heart wrench taking care of things you should never have done in the first place. You are lucky to be alive. And you may not get another shot if you keep up this crap. I hope the gaping laceration on your cheek and the maxillary fracture you have will make you think twice the next time.

But I told the cops and his father too, just to make sure the message gets out. Moral of this story, take care of your kids and know about their lives, or they might not be lucky enough to survive to be the chronic alcoholic on Monday night.

Things that make me appreciate my job

2008-06-08T14:25:00.003-06:00

So, gotta say that there are definitely some professions that make me glad I have the job I do. I've been watching a couple of shows as of late, since I have no internal motivation to do anything on days off, and have honestly enjoyed just being a TV bum. Anyhow, they are at least a tad educational, being on the History Channel and all. Ax Men and Ice Road Truckers. I've found myself gasping and shaking my head at the crazy, dangerous, white-knuckle moments these brave and somewhat-lunatic men endure. Makes the menial, pseudo-adrenaline filled moments at the ER seem pretty darn tame. You should check these out. Next time I think that I've had an overload of adrenaline-rush activity, I'll just pretend that I'm dodging logs on the side of some Oregon mountain, or trying to escape after my semi just fell into the frozen lake (which is, BTW, one of my terror-filled nightmares--falling into a body of water in a vehicle). I'll take the safety, however minimal, of the ER any day. Thanks, History Channel.

Addendum to previous post

2008-06-08T14:19:00.003-06:00

Ok, so now I have a witness. It isn't just me, possibly reading more into the situation, or blowing the whole thing out of proportion. He actually had the nerve to come up to me, in front of my conscious, breathing, alert and oriented co-nurse and co-blogger pal and, you guessed it--straight up asked me on a date. To Old Chicago, no less. Besides being dumb-founded and strangely without words, I had the presence of mind to only say, "no, I'll be spending my four days off with my family that misses me." I'm sure this isn't the end of this interaction. Unfortunately, I've been as polite and direct as I could without telling him to go bat his eyes at someone who isn't HAPPILY married to a very large, muscular, possessive-in-his-own-right man. And kudos to that wonderful man for not taking advantage of my sleepiness to drive down to the hospital and introduce himself to said security officer. Ugh. This has not been fun, and I hope it's over soon.

Ring=Married

2008-05-29T00:53:00.000-06:00

So even though I'm supposed to be enjoying the flexibility of a day off, coupled with the freedom to go to bed whenever I choose, I find myself at the whim of a second wind that descended in my house at about a quarter till 1 in the morning. Since I have nothing better to do, I think I will indulge my itchy fingers and wandering mind, and blog it up. (By the way, I love/hate that Comcast commercial where the caveman is ready to beat the little cave-beaver, and the cute little varmint says "I love you," and then the tag comes up that says "tough to beat." For some stupid reason, I want to save that poor little cave-beaver. I digress.)

Without any actual names mentioned, I will attempt to explain the latest frustrating/confusing/disturbing chain of events that has made me question my faith in humanity (yes, I wondered if I had any left too...evidentially a drop or two remained). Allow me to preface this rant with a little bit about myself, for those of you who don't know me. I am a flirt. An-across the board-don't mean anything by it-always ready with a witty banter-type flirt. However, I have to admit that the volume and frequency at which I indulge in such interactions has dramatically decreased since I got married, as it should. Also, the very distinct black and white line is right there for everyone to see, both through my frequent references to my loving/adoring/highly talented ex-cop of a husband, and the one thing that I thought was supposed to tell the world that I was off the market--my wedding ring.

Not long after I chuckled at my buddy Blissful Entropy's post on this topic, I experienced one of my own shake-my-head kind of moments. Keep in mind, my outward symbol of marriage is not a knuckle-dragging, deltoid-building ring but it's not easy to miss by any means. And this young fool that overstepped his bounds knows of my husband and his reputation in the security field (think Gumby tied into a pretzel shape and Pokey with Tazer leads in his ass).

Nevertheless, this dufus still felt the need--after numerous hints in the past which I let slide as meaningless flirting--to say to me a couple nights ago "hey, I'd like to take you out for a drink, if you don't think your husband will want to kill me." Well, sure honey. My husband has no problem with random guys taking me out for a drink. In fact, that's how we bring in a little extra cash now and then....it'll only cost you $20, unless you want more than a drink, and then the price goes up substantially. Oh, wait...that sounds more like a pimp than a husband...hmm, well maybe he would want to kill you. Dumb ass.

Now I understand how he might be confused. Off the top of my head, I know of three people in the ER who are currently being unfaithful in their marriages, and one couple (again in the ER) who participate in the confusing open marriage/swinger scenario. I guess I'm lucky that I have that built-in stop that makes it a NO-NO to step outside of my marriage. So maybe he's not at fault for thinking that would be an appropriate request. Maybe I just need to find another obvious sign to carry around to show the world that I'm married. I just can't figure out how to shrink my husband and stick him in my pocket.

Until then, all you faithful people out there--stand strong. Believe me, those people that are hitting on you will find a weaker person to bed, and you will be able to sleep at night. Unlike the one idiot coworker I talked to last night, considering cheating on her husband of 5 years with a guy who is deploying to Iraq in 3 days: "well, he's going to be leaving soon, so I might miss out on my chance." Yes, honey, you might. Keep that in mind.

Susie Homemaker

2008-05-14T11:33:00.001-06:00

Well folks, here's another one of my monthly entries, except that this time I don't think I'll be blogging on the usual ER insanity (at least directly; I'm beginning to think its become part of who I am and just seeps out of my pores...). So I was at work a week or so ago, and was telling some of my coworkers about the gardening/canning venture that I've planned for myself. I was amazed at how many condescending, scoffing remarks I received about this. Now every once in a while people will come up to me and say "hey there, susie homemaker, how's the garden?" Which brings me to my latest beef with people: why have so many of the good, old-fashioned things fallen by the wayside and been forgotten?

Now I know what the obvious answer to this question is. The advent of modern day convenience has made things really easy, and fairly effortless, to come by. But besides the general economy of growing and canning some of your own food, there are other reasons why I want to do this. (Also, let it be noted that, shocking as it may be, I bake my own bread too. The real way, not with a breadmaker.) Anyhow, am I the only one who misses the smell of fresh bread in the kitchen, or spending a day making jam and putting it away for one of those cold winter days, when nobody else has the strawberry jam that Grandma made just for you to take home in the cool little quilted glass jelly jar? For golly sake, I think I would be doing my daughter a disservice if I failed to show her how things used to be, and teach her how to do them herself.

Yes, the time I spent outside for hours on my last set of days off was hot, and backbreaking, and physically exhausting. And I got one hell of a sunburn. But damnnit, I planted a good sized garden. And baked 4 loaves of bread, too. And the best part about it was that my husband and daughter were out there with me, every step of the way, breaking up the ground, pulling weeds (and these tree root off-shoots, which became the bane of my existence for a while), putting in fertilizer, and planting the seeds. I know, and really am prepared, that I may not get one damn plant out of all this work. Colorado isn't the best for growing, especially in your backyard. But hey, I taught my daughter the value of hard work. And hopefully everything she learns from my "susie homemaker" endeavours will be something she passes along to future generations. It could be worse; I could be teaching her how to be a brainless jackass like half of the parents out there. So call me what you want. See if I share any of my jam with you.

Are you trying to get me to hit you?

2008-04-26T21:39:00.000-06:00

Short, sweet, and to the point....things you should never do to the triage nurse:

1. Return to the triage window after you have been discharged to yell at me "your doctors here suck" when you don't get the drugs/treatment you wanted. By the way, much MUCH classier when you do it in front of the patient I'm currently triaging. Thank you SO much.

2. Expect the triage nurse to drop everything to take report on your ambulance patient that lives two blocks away and comes in every two weeks for yet ANOTHER infected PICC line. Yes, you ride on an ambulance. That does not mean that every person you bring to me requires the Trauma Team Reception. Sorry I'm not terribly concerned that the pink/warm/dry middle-aged person with a patent airway needed to come in via EMS instead of the local taxi service. Frankly, I could have gotten a better report from a cab driver. You're in triage. Wait your turn.

3. DO NOT stand your uppity, snooty self--as the visitor, not the patient--next to me and state that I do not care about what your significant other is telling me, especially about their medical history. If I didn't care about, or need, the information your boyfriend was telling me, I'd say so. I'm a big girl. Therefore, keep your snide remarks to yourself. Or better yet, keep yourself parked in the waiting room. I didn't call YOU back.

4. If you are unable to get your loved one out of the vehicle you drove them to the ER in, maybe you should have considered the EMS route. They are quite adept at transporting patients that can't move very well, due to an EMERGENCY. DO NOT expect me to pull a bed out of my pocket, throw my triage nurse cape on, and single-handedly lift your loved one out of the car in 2.3 seconds. It takes me a minute to round up some reinforcements and equipment. Patience.

Thank you. Keeping these little things in mind may keep the evil, eye-rolling triage nurse at bay; replaced instead by a warm, kind-hearted, fully-understanding angel of a healthcare servant....yeah, right. That'll be a cold day.

Plodding forward

2008-04-23T12:44:00.000-06:00

As I write this, lounging in my jammies at a quarter-to-one in the afternoon, I'm reflecting on my nursing career and recent decision to remain in the ER. Weighing this decision against the knot in my neck, vague belly pain, and recently recovered migraine from last night, my better judgment screams against it. However, compared to the interview I had with oncology, these aches and pains are a walk in the park.

Maybe it was the way the unit manager described the "oncology" floor: it's an oncology unit, with outpatient radiology and inpatient/outpatient chemo, coupled with short-to-long term stays for cancer patients for a myriad of reasons. Of course--here's my favorite part--"we are a general medical overflow, and we get all of the recovery patients from ENT surgeries, and a lot of ortho surgical patients..." My enthusiasm for the interview effectively dropped to a negative number at this point.

If I wanted to suffer a mundane, over-worked, underpaid floor position, there are 8 other floors I could have applied on. And I don't think that the 1:6 nurse to patient ratio, or the fact that the only position I could get was a 19-07, made the offer any more attractive. So, instead of embarking on a brand new venture in the pseudo-oncology world, I decided to stay the course in a full-time 19-07 position in my comfort zone.

The way I see it, I would rather do a night shift with people I already know, respect, and can count on, instead of trying to muddle my way through learning a new way of nursing all on my own. At least I know that there is an unspoken vein of commisseration in my cozy little world....and it validates my adrenaline-junkie status.

So, my new goal is to get my CEN by this time next year, and try to further my understanding of emergency medicine, since it is painfully obvious that this is where I'm going to stay. And I'm going to stop looking at that green grass on the other side of the fence, because I get tired of posting on my latest career venture. From the mouth of a very wise man: "let's just accept the fact that you're going to stay in the ED, quit fighting it, and move forward." One foot in front of the other. (Thank you, my love.)

Another niggling thought

2008-04-13T20:26:00.000-06:00

So, I have an interview with the oncology department on Wednesday. I guess I'm testing the waters again, or something. Maybe it's my undiagnosed ADD flaring up, or melancholia creeping back into my mind, but either way I'm going to see if it's something I'd be interested in. Barring any serious differences in pay, or sudden gut feelings against it, (or the possibility that they don't offer me the job...) I may well try it out and moonlight in the ER. There's something about considering leaving the ER for good that makes me shake inside. Kind of like how I feel when I think about quitting smoking (picture large anxiety attacks coupled with withdrawl symptoms). I really hate loving the ER so much, and knowing in my head that no matter what happens that day and how many times I say I hate it, tomorrow I'll be ready to do it all over again. It's kind of like being married to an abuser, I think. I hate what it does to me, but I love it so much that I stay. Ugh. To be continued....

P.S. Welcome to the newest blogger on my list--RedHat6. An impressively intelligent man with many witty, sarcastic things to say; and a talented EMS medic to boot. I miss ya, but this shall help with the lonelys. Glad you're here!

When a prayer becomes your reality

2008-04-05T01:01:00.000-06:00

Happy happy happy day! It's my first anniversary and I love my hubby! I can't believe it's been a year already; I have experienced so many wonderful moments in this past year that I feel like its been a dream. All I can pray for now is that the rest of our life together is as wonderful as this first year has been. Thank you my love, for making my dream come true; and thank you Lord, for listening.

Why I do what I do

2008-03-29T22:28:00.000-06:00

I'm numb. Not quite sure if it is a defense mechanism or a natural response, but all I know is that I don't really remember getting in my car and driving home, only that I made it safely (thank you God). I wonder if the patient's family will even remember me in the despairing haze they are in; if the wife will ever know how terrified I am to someday be in her shoes, or how hard it was for me to tell her that the cardiologist is doing everything he can but that it doesn't look hopeful; if I will ever forget the look in her eyes when she realized she would never see her husband alive again and never got to say goodbye. I wonder what it is like to look back and wish you had never let your child go to that party, ride with that friend, stay out that late. I pray I never draw pity from the ER staff with wailing lamentations over my child's dead body. I hope I am always able to encourage my fellow nurses and remind them that "when you stop feeling the need to vomit and cry after one of these, you've just worked your last day as a good nurse in the ER".

Those of you who have worked the ER know the look of your fellow nurses when you come on shift after a kid has died. Everyone has a mild version subconsciously plastered on their face, but you can instantly pick out the one who ran the trauma as soon as they walk by. The barren futility in their eyes, the searching of their mind, the continuous replay while they mindlessly continue on with the requisite duties to finish charting; all working towards the moment when one of two things happen: someone has the compassion to open the release valve and listen, or they finally get to go home and deal with it on their own. I learned something today--even experienced nurses, ones I thought knew so much more than I, still need to hear that it's okay to want to stick a straw in a bottle of wine, cry, throw up, and resent the teenagers who come in hours afterward and hate their lives.

I realized something today, as simple and evident as it may be; I can never allow myself to fall into the complacency of life and forget to tell my husband how desperately I love him. I need that dose of reality, albeit at the expense of someone else's anguish, to slap me in the face and whisper in my ear how blessed I am to go home to an extraordinary man. I am a selfish woman; I do what I do not because I fall asleep at night knowing I have made a difference in someone else's life, but because of the precious moments when someone else reminds me how to live.

And this is just freaky

2008-03-27T01:35:00.001-06:00

For those of you who know me, you know that I'm only 40-50 years from fulfilling this prophecy!

Your Life, Predicted:
	You will get married, and will not divorce. You will have 1 child. You will live for another 40-50 years.
'The Life Predictor Quiz' at QuizGalaxy.com

This makes too much sense....

2008-03-27T01:15:00.001-06:00

Your Serial Killer Name would be...

The Discombobulator

'What would your Serial Killer name be?'
at QuizGalaxy.com

And She Returns

2008-03-25T15:49:00.000-06:00

This post will be relatively short, as I am still quite frustrated with myself and haven't come to one general conclusion as to how I feel about this latest leap. I thought the executive job would be a good step for me. Until I realized that I love (as a part of the love-hate relationship) my nursing license. Unfortunately, I discovered that those two things could not coexist in the same space for much longer than the 6 weeks I spent in the position. I will write more when I can put into words the frustration and confusion I felt at investing 300 hours into a position that I would eventually abandon for the familiar insanity of the ER. I'm back.

The Unknown

2008-02-11T19:44:00.000-07:00

There is something about the abyss of the unknown that seems to draw me to it. I have found, through occasional self-analysis, that I see the unknown as a sort of black hole that waits for me to finally make up my mind and jump in. I walk and walk around the hole in front of me, contemplating often silently to myself about the prospect of jumping in, what problems might occur if I do, how unhappy I am with the current situation at the time, and ultimately if jumping in is really a good idea. Then, more often than not, I suddenly make up my mind and jump. Like I did when I got married after having known my wonderful husband for all of 3 months. Friends, family, and most bystanders see me as a spontaneous and impetuous person after numerous encounters with these black holes. But what they don't see is the drawn-out internal dialogue that precedes these mammoth leaps.

That being said, I jumped the other day. Just up and left a well-paying, highly technical, interestingly mundane ER job for the fast-paced work of an executive at an assisted living. Talk about opposite ends of the spectrum. Maybe I just get bored too easily. Or maybe it's difficult for me to find satisfaction in handing out doses of narcotics to God-only-knows-who and hoping they're really going to use them for the chronic back pain they have at 24 years old....could be a combination of the two....nevertheless, I am now in charge of every resident, medication, chart, mess, screw-up and "I don't know, no one ever taught me how" that exists in this fine facility. And I thought this would be a lower stress job....I must have had those damn rosey glasses on again.

So, I have rediscovered the art of phone tag (it really is an art), and doctor's office diplomacy (could you PLEASE fax me that order for Milk of Magnesia?! Bob REALLY needs to poop, and the state says I can't give it without a signature...yes I know you can buy it at the corner store, but I still need an order...thank you nurse-who will pass this request along to the very, very busy family physician. I will look for the fax next year.) I have also learned that things are considered organized as long as someone, in the group of nurses that came into this position before me, had some sort of "system". I have yet to figure this system out, and truly, I quit trying my second day there. I am now developing my own system that has a revolutionary foundation to ensure successful implementation---are you ready? This is going to be new and unheard of, and nobody better steal it, because it belongs to me....here it goes....

Common sense. I know. Shocking, isn't it? Everything has a place, that way the desk monster doesn't get his daily feeding of really, really important corporate papers or little-bitty notes that have vital information on it from the night shift (apparently, paper bigger than 2" across disappears after 6 pm). And, I have this really annoying habit (that has worked quite well for me this last week)--I keep to-do lists. And then (get ready for this one)--I cross things off on that list when I get them done!!! And THEN (I know, you can't take much more of the shock)--I add more to the list throughout the day when other things come up!!! I should patent this new invention.

Jaded, you say? Cynical? Well, that's very possible. ER will do that to you; I think that's something I'll never be able to shake. But more than that, I've always been a smart-ass. I see things differently than most people do. I guess that's why I keep jumping into those holes while everyone else stands around and wishes they could do the same.

Don't forget to chew

2008-01-24T00:11:00.000-07:00

So, I was at work tonight and was suddenly presented with a very attractive (at the time) opportunity to eat a Chipotle burrito--for those of you who don't know what that is, imagine four of those little bitty frozen burritos all made into one, in a giant 12 inch tortilla. Keep in mind, as an ER nurse, I have seen two ACTUAL 30 minute breaks in 4 months, which makes it quite difficult to taste, let alone enjoy, whatever I am trying to eat. So, I think I may have chewed once per mouthful of said burrito, and finished it in record time of 3-5 minutes (if we count interruptions for breathing and handing charts to the doctor). Water immediately preceded, and followed, the ingestion of this mammoth delicacy but, unfortunately, was not involved during the inhalation.

Now, for anyone who has even a vague understanding of the human body, you can imagine the symptoms I began to display approximately 2 hours after I did this. I can say, with definite certainty, that if my intestines could scream, one could have heard it on the 11th floor of the hospital. I lost count of the comments along the lines of "are you okay? you don't look so good" which were then followed by "we need to get you in a bed....are you allergic to any medications?...here, take this." One tiny pill and numerous assurances of "I'm fine, I'll be okay" later, the left upper quadrant piercing abdominal pain reduced me to tears and I decided to let the three other nurses offering to take my patients do just that.

I proceeded to gather up my things to go home. I almost made it to the door, but stopped in my tracks when a rather large woman rolled through the bay doors and caught my attention. She was headed my direction, toward the one empty room left in the section, and my sense of duty compelled me to take "just one more patient". But moreover, it was the screaming of "oh my God, I've never hurt like this before, somebody help me, I'm dying!" that piqued my curiosity. I found it strange that she was verbalizing my own thoughts; it was like I was a ventriloquist or was throwing my voice or something....I think I might believe in ESP now. Needless to say, I am finally at home, thankful that I did not allow my co-workers to convince me that I needed to be examined. There are just some things you don't wish to divulge to your peers, especially anything related to the question "when was the last time you had a bowel movement, and was it normal?" Instead, a little milk of magnesia, some prune juice, and a nice hot bath will get things moving along just in time for me to return to the land of pain tomorrow, sans giant burrito.

Why us?

2008-01-07T02:12:00.000-07:00

As I sit here listening to various theories from Republican candidates on how best to run this nation, I find myself pondering one large question: why us? Why has it become the United States' responsibility to save the world? We, as a successful and functioning country, have fallen into the hole that is, on a larger scale, strikingly similar to the one created on our own soil by welfare as we know it. In both instances, successful and hardworking citizens are being forced, by our own government, to carry on our shoulders those groups of people who refuse to stand up and say "I'm not going to live this way anymore, and I'm willing to do whatever it takes to make a change."

As a single mother for many years, I know how difficult it is to live at the poverty level and wish for a better life. I know what it is like to see others succeeding and want so badly the same for my daughter and me. What I can not understand is how one person, or one nation, can sit idly by and allow others to sacrifice their own lives, and happiness, and successes to pull them out of the hole they have fallen into. What happened to hard work and earning the position you have in life? What satisfaction could one possibly obtain from knowing that the only reason you are successful is because of someone else's blood, sweat and tears?

I think this issue is true even on a grander scale, with regard to less developed countries who turn to NATO and the United States to fix their problems. Why should we continue to send our military forces, whose job it is to DEFEND the United States, to another country in a futile attempt to rebuild a nation that is already better off since we arrived? Our initial response, and subsequent defense strategy, to a direct attack on our nation was one in which I found no fault. But continuing to put our men and women in harm's way for the sake of the development of another country's government is abhorrent. If the citizens of other nations desire an improvement in their lives, then all I would say to them is "that is a wonderful goal; I hope you are ready for the years of hard work that such a goal requires."

I am incredibly proud of the years of hard work, sacrifice, and pain I endured to make a better life for my daughter and me. I would not trade the sleepless nights spent studying for my degree while working full time to provide for a child on my own. Welfare? Comical. All I could potentially hope for would have been the child support that never came. I could have never looked at myself in the mirror if I had instead filled out the necessary paperwork and let others work for years to carry me into the lap of luxury. I would have never developed the valuable qualities of perseverance, self-confidence, courage or dedication if I gave in to the "easier road". Instead, I took the proverbial "road less traveled" and could not be happier with the direction it has led me.

I find it disgusting that so many people of this great country have lost the strength and determination to stand up to those who refuse to carry their own weight and smack them around until they wake up and find the work ethic that so many preceding generations held dear. If we, as a country, continue to allow this nauseating pandemic to permeate our society, it will not be long before we sadly realize the inevitable truth: we can not save the world. Not only because it is an impossible task, but because we have become as weak as those we are trying to save.