Thursday, July 23, 2015

Neither Ping nor Beer.

I have a nasty cold, still. I had a sore throat from the beginning of last week, and while I had hoped it was merely allergies, that hope was dashed as I started feeling worse and worse while working at the spa last Saturday.

The manager ended up sending me home because they definitely didn't want my contagious ass around the clients and (especially) the other employees.

Upon arriving home early Saturday afternoon, I put myself to bed. And there I remained until Tuesday afternoon when I had to get ready for work. Yes, I called in sick for Sunday AND Monday, even though I hate missing work and really hate losing money.

I remember brushing my teeth once or twice during that time period, but other than that, my hygiene was seriously lacking. It's tough to think about showering or brushing your hair when you're struggling to even breathe. Summer colds are the WORST.

When I finally dragged my fragrant carcass out of bed, I remarked to my roomie that my pong was more lethal that any infectious microorganism I might still be harboring. She never replied to that, I think she was holding her breath...

Sunday, July 12, 2015


I just spent an hour out of a two-hour massage working on a regular client's ass and hamstrings. FML.
Oh, well. At least he's a really good tipper!

Thursday, July 02, 2015


One of my patients likes drama. No, I don't mean in her real life, I mean as in TV shows/movies, etc. She can't manipulate the iPad herself, and she cannot communicate verbally, but she made her displeasure known when she became fed up with the drama du jour she was watching while she was receiving a nebulizer treatment.

So I, technosavvy nurse with new smartphone that I am, put on one of my favorite iHeart Radio stations (Taylor Swift, DON'T JUDGE), blasted it so she could hear the music over the neb machine, and hustled into the kitchen to get her dinner ready. She loves pop music like Katy Perry and Taylor Swift almost as much as she loves TV shows like "Glee" and "Switched at Birth."

Unfortunately, as I was waiting for the microwave to ding, this song started playing.


Considering that my patient is a minor, and her siblings are still minors, not to mention that CUSSING IS UNPROFESSIONAL, I think I broke the land speed record getting to my phone and frantically mashing the "skip" button on the touch screen.

Lesson learned. Luckily her parents didn't hear.

Tuesday, June 09, 2015

Live free or die, Bitches!


New Hampshire, here I come...

Monday, June 08, 2015


working as a private duty nurse is trying my patience and getting on my last nerve. I have a patient whose mother is extremely particular in her son's care, which is fine and understandable, but she's also had a quarter of a century of practice and experience with her son and she just doesn't get that it can take time for a nurse, especially an inexperienced one, to master all the routines and details involved in caring for him. At least to her standards.

So it's truly great that she's scheduled a long-time caregiver to assist in my training, one who's known and nursed the patient since he came home from the hospital almost 25 years ago. Really, this lady has a wealth of experience and knowledge and I appreciate all she can teach me about my patient.

What I have no patience for is 8 hours of listening to New Age mumbo-jumbo, Eastern Mysticism, numerology, and astrology. Especially as it supposedly pertains to me. I don't want to hear which of my chakras are blocked, or how I can cleanse my energy. I don't want to know that 3 and 7 are my important numbers which indicate that I am an ethereal being. Or that because I am a Pisces I am "deep water" which meshes well with the patient's "hot water".

If I'm sweaty, it's because it's hot as balls in the room and I'm wrangling 180 pounds of dead weight, while wearing my dress-code ordered scrubs, not because I'm absorbing the patient's energy. I'm not a psychic vampire, ok? Nor am I an angel. And I don't buy that you can communicate telepathically with our patient. Or that he's communicated with you in dreams. If he's constipated, we know because he hasn't pooped in awhile and he's bloated, not because his "poop points" along his IT bands and on his trapezius muscles are tight. Dietary enzyme supplements don't cure cancer. Just because I'm a massage therapist doesn't mean I believe a bunch of poppycock. Where are the studies? Show me the evidence!

8 hours of being polite and professional have damn near broken me.

How do you tell someone you think they're full of shit without completely alienating them?

Saturday, May 30, 2015

Overheard in the spa...

"Dammit, April! Why didn't you tell me my bangs looked like Cthulhu coming to devour your soul?!"

"I thought that was the look you were going for!"


Note to self, look in the mirror after walking in the wind and before getting your client...

Monday, May 25, 2015


young life was fleeting
like a shooting star at night
bright, brief, and then gone

Sunday, May 17, 2015

It's Official

I know spring has officially arrived in New England when my female massage clients start shaving their legs again.

Wednesday, May 13, 2015


I guess if you wake up at 4:30 in the morning and struggle to fall back asleep for over half an hour before giving up, deciding to take a walk on the beach with your dogs is an acceptable alternative to insomnia. It certainly has its perks!

Sunday, May 10, 2015

I don't love my job.

Really, I don't. It's pretty much the antithesis of the kind of nursing I want to do.

But you know what? At least I HAVE a job in nursing! Many of my classmates are still struggling to find their first position.

And I'm learning a ton. And I'm getting paid (not very well, and I get no benefits, but still...making money as a NURSE!)

And I'm still looking and applying for hospital jobs all over the place. I'm now licensed in MA, NH, and TX. I have an important interview scheduled in a little over a week at a hospital in NH, we'll see how that goes.

Fingers crossed!

Seen on the drive home from work last night...

a motorcycle ahead of me with a Barbie doll on the bitch seat. A naked Barbie, with flowing blond tresses and her little plastic arms up in the air.

The vibration of the engine and the wind blowing her hair back combined to make it look like she was screaming WOO-HOO!!! at the top of her non-existent lungs.

Yeah, I did a double-take.