People are fucking disgusting...

(here was an AMAZING rant about a situation at work, but I found it impossible not to add in enough details that someone could potentially identify the patient, so I deleted it.)



Fucking motherfuckers. Pieces of shit.  (this was the end of the post).

Anyway, sorry about how click-bait-y this seems.

I've been really busy trying to finish my chemo certification. I mean, I took the class, passed the exam, and have my chemo card, but I have to get "signed off" on all different types of chemo (three times each, no less), in order to be officially certified and stuff.

Seeing as I work exclusively night shift, it has been understandably difficult. Therefore I've been sacrificing quite a few days off to go in during the day to do some chemo.

Fun times.

We're also currently seriously short-staffed on my unit, so I've been working a lot of overtime shifts. Tired. That's what I am!

For some reason, social media just isn't floating my boat recently, I have no idea why.

And I have the advent of my (dear God, PLEASE) soon-to-be-a-college-graduate daughter to look forward to, as she will be moving back home until she finds a job that nets enough that she can support herself.

Three grown women in a tiny, two-bedroom apartment...what could possibly go wrong?

Wait, don't answer that. I've already gamed out every scenario in my head!

Anyway, life's busy, there's never enough time in a day to do everything that needs to be done, etc., etc.

Basically just like every other sap out there on the planet!

Well, if you're still out there, reading my wittle blog, thanks! I'll try to make more of an effort to post more frequently than every few months (oy!).

See you on the flip side.

Generally, yes.

I had a confused patient in his 90s as part of my assignment the other night. When I had a bit of downtime, I sat with him to reorient him and keep him from pulling out his IV (AGAIN!).

We were chit-chatting about nothing in particular when he suddenly reached over and began stroking my wrist while staring at me intently and murmuring, "Do you like affection...?"

As I jerked back in surprise and sputtered a response about inappropriate behavior and professionalism, what was running through my mind was,

"NOT FROM YOU, MOTHERFUCKER!"

I called over our young, MALE nursing assistant to take over sitting and wasted no time sharing the story over a laugh with my colleagues.

A few minutes later, while checking my phone, I saw I had received a text message from one of my fellow nurses. I thought it was odd, because she was standing right there! Why would she be sending me a text when she could talk to me...?

Then I saw what she had texted...and busted out laughing.

Well played, Meg. Well played.

Patient Education

Patient education is a huge and very important part of nursing.

I had to teach each of my patients something last night.

No, you're not a "wimp" for being in pain after having MAJOR abdominal surgery. Yes, it's okay to have the ordered pain medication, that's what it's for. Yes, the nausea and dry-heaving you're suffering from could absolutely be caused by the pain, and yes, I can give you something for that, too.

And NO, you're not being a "bother". It's my job. :)

No, you can't smoke e-cigarettes in the hospital. Yes, I could smell it when I walked into the room. No, it doesn't matter how tiny the cig is, it has to go. No, I'm not mad at you. Yes, you can absolutely have a nicotine patch, and I'll go ask the doc to order one for you ASAP.

You're welcome. :)

NO, YOU CANNOT HAWK UP LOOGIES AND SPIT THEM ON THE FLOOR NEXT TO YOUR BED. Yes, I slipped in your phlegm and almost fell on my ass. Or hit my head. Yes, I'm gagging as I'm cleaning your nasty-ass sputum from the tread of my sneaker. No, I 'll never let you know how disgusted I am. Yes, I will point out the tissue box that's RIGHT THERE. And the trash can that's also RIGHT THERE, and ask you to use both in the future. No, I will not ask you if you do the same thing in your own home, because yes, I can control myself. Unlike you.

Let me get you some apple juice. You're welcome.

ZOMG!!

Happy TEN YEAR Blogiversary to meeeeeeeeee!

That's like a BILLION years in meatspace.

:D

Blogorado!

As always, I had the absolute BEST TIME EVAR at Blogorado this year.

Thanks so much to the FarmFamily (Farmmom, Farmgirl, FarmDad) for being exemplary hosts.

The food was exquisite and plentiful, the booze copious, and the conversation raunchy as fuck.

We blew up a papier-mache heart (lovingly and laboriously made by PhlegmFatale, who couldn't make it out to Colorado this year, boo!), filled with confetti and pom-poms, and covered with sequins and glitter, in honor of  our dear friend, Gay_Cynic, who passed away over Memorial Day Weekend this year. We miss you!

I shot up a good bunch of my ammo, as I want to get really comfortable with my CZ82. One of my magazines developed a burr which needs to be filed or ground away (grinded?), so I was unable to use it. I really should just stock up on magazines, anyway.

I also adopted an adorable, bottle-fed kitten and brought him home with me! I'll have to share pics of Calcifer once I get them off my phone.

And you haven't lived until you've played a game of Bards Dispense Profanity with the Atomic Nerds, Tam, ZerCool, EvylRobot (and his son), and Barron! Jeebus, I frequently laughed so hard I almost peed myself!

Every year, before it's even over, I look forward to the next year, when we all gather again. It's wonderful to spend time with one's tribe.

To all who were there (you know who you are, and I've reached my max linky-love level, dammit!), as always, it was spectacular to spend time with y'all, and to the new-to-me folks, it was lovely to meet you...see y'all next year!

*tap tap* Is this thing on?

Wow, it's been quite some time since I posted. Sheesh.

I think Facebook is becoming the slow death of blogging. Though I do filter and censor myself a lot on the Book of Face. On my blog is the only place I can just spew out whatever crazy shit crosses my mind.

For example, I had to tell a patient to simmer down and let us do our jobs. Without going into too much detail, she knew she was sick and called 911 and was brought to our ED and then admitted.

After which she proceeded to bitch and complain about EVERYthing.

"Why do you have to put the bed alarm on...I feel like I'm in a nursing home!"
"ANOTHER blood draw? I feel like a pin cushion!" (These are just a few, and you have to understand that once you went into her room, you ended up being in there for at least half an hour, if not longer. She was like a psychic vampire, draining me of my will to live.)

She battled with us over every intervention, procedure, medication...you name it and she either refused or required half and hour of education or cajoling...sometimes repeatedly about the same issue!

I totally understand that nobody wants to be in the hospital. We try to make every patient's stay as pleasant and hassle-free as we can, but it's not a hotel or resort!

After I explained for at least the fifth time why we needed to have the bed alarm on, at least at night, and why she needed to call for assistance before getting out of bed, etc., she said she had had enough, that she didn't want to be there, and she was going to leave in the morning, no matter what.

I looked at her and said, "Ms. White, YOU were the one who called 911 and came to the hospital, because you knew you were sick and that it was very serious. LET US DO OUR JOBS. The way you feel right now, the condition you're in...do you really think you're ok to take care of yourself at home?"

She replied, "That's not fair!"

You're in your sixties, and you're only figuring this out now?!

No, I didn't say anything to that effect to her! Even though I really wanted to...

Anyway, this post totally turned out different than I expected. Sorry about that...but that means I can blog more, yay!

Not really appropriate.

My pod partner, after assisting me with incontinence care and linen change for my new patient, asked me,

"So, what's her diagnosis?"

My reply?

"She's old as fuck."

I'm going to hell for that.

The vital nursing knowledge I've gleaned from my not-so-copious experience:

Common sense...isn't.

Actually...appropriate!

I felt a little uncomfortable at the chemotherapy education session at the hospital last week. I mean, it WAS my day off, so if I wanted to wear denim shorts and my Deadpool t-shirt, why not? I was also rocking my blinged-out skull and crossbone earrings.

When I arrived in the conference room and saw the other attendees, I had to hide a wince. Most were wearing business casual clothing. The others were in scrubs because they were coming off shift.

I felt like I stood out like a sore thumb. Then, as we progressed through the presentation, I came to a realization. Chemotherapy is poison. So my awesome earrings were totally appropriate. And Deadpool? Man, he became a super...hero (?) because he was dying of cancer and desperate for a cure! How perfect was my t-shirt after all!

So I stopped worrying about it and absorbed all the info. Besides, who cares what other people think, right?

A funny thing happened on the way to the medcart...

The doctor summoned me urgently to the patient's bedside. He pointed to her ileostomy bag and said,

"Please page the ostomy nurse, STAT! It looks like pieces of her intestinal tissue or stoma are sloughing off into the bag!!!"

I whispered in response, "It's watermelon...she had it for breakfast!"

He blushed and said, "Well, don't I feel silly!"

To be fair, the patient had no teeth, so she regularly had pretty big chunks of food in her collection bag!


Then there was the patient who didn't seem to be arousable. Calling his name, gentle shaking/jostling, nothing was working. So I fired up the good, ol' sternal rub and hoped it would work its magic...

nothing. I kept rubbing and rubbing, harder and harder, knowing I was surely hurting him as he was pretty damn hairy.

Without opening his eyes, he suddenly said,

"You're rubbing the wrong spot..."

Alrighty, then! Gotta love the night shift...

God save me...

from brand-spankin' new residents! This is my first year dealing with this phenomenon, and I don't like it. Having to page someone fifty times before getting a response, having new admissions languishing in their rooms for several hours without orders, trying to parse exactly what the "doctors" are trying to accomplish with the orders they actually place, and trying to explain the most shittiest of discharge summaries to a patient, among many other issues, has wrought havoc on my work the past three days.

On the other hand, they sure are sparky and enthusiastic!

I'm beat. I had two simultaneous discharges and two admissions that showed up within half an hour of each other. Luckily, I work with an amazing team of colleagues! I had a lot of assistance and managed to get everything done that needed to be done.

Of course, I was charting until 2030...

When the old battle-ax of a charge nurse tells you you did a good job, it means something. :)

I think I'm going to like working here...

I'm orienting for a new per diem job at a large local family practice clinic, and the first thing I noticed in my MANAGER'S OFFICE was the following:

I think I'll fit right in. :D

Nursing Protip

When you're in a patient's bathroom at the end of your shift, emptying the graduated cylinder of its contents, it's a really, really bad idea to exclaim,


"OH, MY GOD!"


even if you glanced in the mirror and got a good look at your end-of-night-shift, slept-on-wet hair, which resembles a coiffure Medusa would envy.

You're likely to hear panicked shouts of "What? WHAT?" coming from both your patient and her sister, and only if you're really lucky will you get laughter in response to your meek, "Oh, sorry. It's just my hair..."

Haiku

your pain is over
I fear mine has just begun
rest in peace, dear Ray

Every breath you take...

I'll be watching you.

To see whether you're actually dead, that is.

I had the honor and privilege of holding a patient's hand while he passed. His family was with him and were bawling. Finally his wife asks, "Is he...dead?"

Um...

Eyes open. Pupils fixed. No visible breaths. Palpating his wrist...is that a pulse?! Shit! Is he or isn't he?!

Where's my stethoscope?! Where it always is, around my neck. Duh. Listening...listening...listening...

You don't know how long a minute really is. You really just don't know...

I hear nothing. Yes, he really is most sincerely dead. I page the doctor and go back to my computer, mentally going over the next steps in this whole process.

About an hour or so later, the charge nurse and I are performing post-mortem care.
P. is trying to grow a pair, because she's always been reluctant to do this very important task on our unit.

As we are carefully washing our deceased patient (and I have it on good authority that I'm NOT WEIRD for talking to the ones who have passed, so there!) I notice a flicker of movement...

P. jumps back with a squawk and I admit, a tiny noise might have escaped my throat.

*ahem*

I belatedly realize that the fancy-schmancy pressure-redistributing mattress doesn't give a flying fuck whether the body that's lying on it is alive or dead, it keeps on with its task of preventing pressure ulcers...by systematically deflating and inflating sections of itself, causing a rippling movement not unlike that of a water bed...incidentally and quite freakishly causing movement to our patient.

P., once she's come down off the ceiling and caught her breath, states, "That's the freakiest thing I've ever seen in my LIFE!"

Oh, Honey...you may have more experience as a nurse than I, but you ain't seen nuthin' yet!

Putting me on the spot!

As I was bustling around my patient last night, hooking her up to various IVs, etc., she looked me in the eye and asked," Am I gonna die?"

I fumbled for a moment and then spouted these words of wisdom," Well, we're ALL gonna die, eventually..."

I'm surprised she didn't punch me in the face.

I knew exactly what she meant to say.

I have a patient with expressive aphasia. When I walked into her room this morning, the very first thing she said, while looking into my face with a huge smile, was

"Happy Birthday!"

I replied,

"Happy Mother's Day to you, too, Iris!"

What a wonderful way to start a shift!

It was very satisfying...

as long as I held my breath!

I disimpacted a patient for the first time, w00t!

I don't think I needed a bachelor's degree for this, though.

Why can't I just get paid to hang out with my friends, chat, and stuff my face?!

Enough to make a sailor blush...

Oh, the things one overhears at Phlegmfest!

Out of context, they are by turns disturbing and/or raunchy.

"I love restraints!"

"Just the tip is in the mouth, you know it's not all the way in."

"I'm sorry I put my fingers on your wiggly bacon!"

It's one of those gatherings where several fascinating conversations are going on simultaneously, and you just wish you could listen to and participate in every one.

Quotes are being tossed around and people break out into song spontaneously, and nobody bats an eye.

And the food? Scrumptious!!!

I'm having a blast!

And I'm very thankful that despite dozing off every evening among the crowd, I have yet to wake up with a dick drawn on my face in sharpie. True friendship.  Thanks, Y'all!

Leaving on a jet plane...

Heading to TEXAS for Phlegmfest!

Dunno what kind of shenanigans might ensue, but with THIS crew, anything is possible!
I might or might not keep you posted, depends on many factors, one of which is my disdain of typing large amounts of text on my phone. Ugh.

I'm so excited to see so many of my friends who live so far away. I missed Blogorado last year, which made me sad, but I'm hoping I'll make it this fall. I already put in for the vacation time. ;)

Here's hoping my trip out is uneventful...car, bus, plane, car...we'll see!

Ugh.

I had the worst day ever today. I thought yesterday was bad, but today was several orders of magnitude worse.

At the end of my shift, after giving report, when I FINALLY started documenting, a long-time unit secretary/CNA (yes, she does BOTH) came up to me and asked, only half-jokingly,

"Whose oatmeal did you piss in to get THIS shitty assignment?!"

I dunno...God's?!

It wasn't supposed to be a bad day, but my patients had other ideas.

One died. One crashed. One was discharged (yay!). One's anxiety made him a huge PITA. And throw in an admission right at the end, and I was completely wrecked.

But, I work on an awesome unit where everyone pitches in to help, so that made a tremendous difference. Everything got done. All meds were given. All my patients were safe (yes, even the lady who died). Documentation is a nurse's bane, however.

I finally clocked out at 2107, picked up Tally, and headed to a local Irish pub. Good food, good music, and now I'm for bed. Luckily I don't go back to work until tomorrow night, so I can sleep in.

I just hope that the feeling that I don't know wtf I'm doing wears off soon...*sigh*.

I'm a REAL nurse now!

Clocked in at 0640 and didn't pee until 1905.

Why I became a nurse.

I admitted an elderly gentleman early yesterday morning, about half-way through my overnight shift. He came from the ED, extremely cachectic, with a diagnosis of "Failure to Thrive", which I thought only applied to newborns and infants.

He was withdrawn and monosyllabic, and I felt bad to be poking and prodding him with my admission assessment and placing of pressure ulcer preventatives, etc., when it was obvious he just wanted to be left alone.

When I came on last night, my third overnight in a row, after receiving report I walked into his room and reintroduced myself,

"Hi, Mr. Top! Do you remember me? I'm Christina, and I was the nurse who took care of you when you arrived on our unit last night."

He smiled slightly and said,

"You're the lady who got me all that apple juice!"

That he remembered me for THAT of all things, something nice I did for him, rather than the various indignities I subjected him to, absolutely made my day. Nothing got me down for the rest of my shift, not even when a patient's ileostomy bag exploded.

These moments are totally why I became a nurse. It makes everything worth it.

Merry Christmas!

So, all my children are here for the holidays, yay! (Actually, TallyAngel, my older twin, moved in with me the day after Thanksgiving, so she was already here...).

Unfortunately, Silver (my oldest) has had a wicked sore throat and can only talk in whispers (99% sure it's NOT strep throat, so I'm not dragging her unnecessarily into an urgent care, even though she wants me to).

Work is going well. I've been working a lot of nights lately, and except for the sleep deprivation, I like it. It's more peaceful. So to speak.

I had my first patient die. It was expected and welcome (he was on Comfort Measures Only), but I wasn't expecting him to die on my shift, nor was I anticipating that I would be the one to discover him, moments after he passed. He was still very warm. It was a good experience, though, and he died at peace and pain-free. My charge nurse said I did a great job, so there's that.

In other news, if you're friends with me IRL/on Facebook, you know that Tucker, one of my pups, has been very sick and almost died. As a matter of fact, he's definitely still not out of the woods, though he's holding his own right now. He has idiopathic autoimmune hemolytic anemia. That's a mouthful! (That's what SHE said!)
His own body has been attacking and destroying his red blood cells, for no known reason, leading to extreme anemia and all that goes with it. I'm taking him in this coming Monday for more bloodwork, so hopefully the labs will reflect what I see in him, namely that he is improving! He's eating again (and pooping!), and he wants to go on walks, even though he's very slow. He still gets fatigued really easily. And the steroids he's on make him drink and pee excessively, but that's just how it goes.

And that's about all I've got right now! My life is pretty boring. ;)

Have a very Merry Christmas! If you're Jewish, I hope your Hanukkah was awesome! Ditto with Festivus and Kwanzaa! (Have I covered everyone? Oh, wait! Wiccans, happy Winter Solstice!)

And for EVERYONE: I hope 2016 brings good health, happiness, and prosperity to you and your families!

And dear GOD, please don't let Trump or Hillary or Bernie be president!

I'm a BIG girl now!

The training wheels have come off! I just completed my first full week off of orientation!

No preceptor anymore, just me...all by myself...trying not to kill any of my patients.

*gulp*

So far, so good. We'll see how it goes later this week, when I work three days in a row.

I just had my first overnight shift (by myself), it was excellent, actually. Though  now I feel like a zombie. I think I'll watch the last episode of "Jessica Jones" and go back to bed.

Nighty-night!

Nope, not tea.

Then there was the elderly patient who asked me politely to dump the contents of his cup down the drain before he could accidentally drink it. When I asked him why he was worried about drinking his iced tea, and that I could get him some more ice, he told me he thought he had mistaken his empty cup for a urinal in the middle of the night and peed in it.

I carefully set the cup back down and said, "Let me get some gloves..."

And I made sure to document the dark amber color of his urine.

BTW, he had THREE urinals at his bedside!

Winning!

Mission: To make a jaded, seen-and-done-it-all male nurse blush.

We're transferring an elderly patient from a crappy foam bed (thanks, ED!) to a fancy-schmancy Envision bed.

I'm on the opposite side, so I have to lean across the Envision bed to slide the patient towards me. Right before we begin the transfer, aforementioned male nurse says to me:

You need to spread your legs.

My reply:

Yeah, I hear that a lot...

Totally inappropriate, I know, BUT I made my colleague blush and the other two nurses laugh their butts off, so I'm calling it a WIN!

There's somebody behind the curtain!!!!

I'm giving a patient an extended-release potassium pill, which is gigantic and extremely foul-tasting. The patient is having a procedure, so can't eat or drink anything (except for her meds), so she can't chug a giant glass of water to get the pill down. You can't dissolve it, crush it, or chew it, either...unfortunately, the instant it comes into contact with moisture, it starts dissolving...and tastes incredibly disgusting.

Me (watching the patient shove the pill all the way to the back of her throat with her finger): Oh, it's like giving a cat a pill!

The patient's twenty-something daughter: It's like giving a blow job...

Me (inside my head): Only if you have a gag reflex...
 
The patient reaches out with her free hand and smacks her daughter's arm: I can't take you anywhere!

Me (to the daughter): Maybe that's not the best thing to say in a semi-private room!!!

*sigh*

Things to consider when you're in the hospital:
-NO PRIVACY
-even if you're in a private room: NO PRIVACY
-but definitely worse when you have a roommate: you can hear EVERYTHING, including when the other patient is shitting into the bedside commode.

Potpourri

Let's see...well, the job is going well, according to my preceptor! According to ME, I'm a failure, because I'm not handling everything by myself, all the time. I know I'm new, and I know that I truly don't know very much (still), but I want to be the best damn nurse out there. Now.

I don't want to be the person nobody wants to work with. You know, THAT person. The one who always needs help and never gets her shit done. As it is, I already feel like I don't get to spend enough time with my patients, that I'm charting all the time. I've been told that as I get more familiar with the (electronic) paperwork, I'll have all that done much faster, and more time will be freed up for actual face-time with the patients. Heh, "patients"...I have patients but no patience (for myself)!

So, skills. I'm getting there. I had to give a patient six different medications via IV yesterday, and I rocked it! I was slow getting everything together, because I'm CAREFUL. All of these meds were clear liquids, you gotta be careful and organized (pretty much OCD) with that shit!

All syringes were labeled, I knew which meds were compatible with the (continuously) running IV fluids and which weren't, which meant I knew which meds could be administered via the implanted mediport, and which had to be given IV push through a peripheral IV site. I knew exactly how long I had to push the meds (generally over two-three minutes, which is a LONG time when you have fifty other things to do and the patient is getting IMpatient, even though you've explained it to him five MILLION times...).

I've done discharges and admissions. I helped administer a unit of platelets, and I'm learning to tactfully and diplomatically DELEGATE TO THE LNA. A very necessary skill, because I don't have time for all that (sometimes literal) shit.

I've given shots subcutaneously (lovenox and insulin) and intramuscularly (flu shot, that's a honking BIG needle!).

I've given patients little cups brimming with colorful pills and capsules, scary the polypharmacy, but necessary. And I've been able to tell them what they all are and what they're for.

I've done lots of patient education, about many different things. Like nutrition and portion control. Why they might be retaining water, and what the docs might do about it. And what they, the patients, might have to do at home to deal with it.

I've done dressing changes and linen changes. I've wiped people's bums. I've catheterized one poor soul. Successfully. On the third try. Hey, it's way harder to do females! Have you looked for a female's urethra lately?!

I've gotten my first, and hopefully last, needlestick. Don't worry, the "source" came back clean, so I'm ok.

I've dealt with doctors, interns, residents, and medical students. I've spoken with PTs, OTs, case managers, social workers, and pharmacists, among many others. It's all good, nobody's has ever accused me of not being a talker!

I've discovered that patients misunderstand or mishear a lot of what you say, and that they also forget a lot you've said. And sometimes they even forget that you were the one they talked to!

Along the way, I've learned that pancreatic cancer is a fucking bitch. And that Graft versus Host Disease is a VERY SERIOUS MATTER. Ugh, what a nightmare!

I've also found out that with age truly comes more tolerance. I've had to caution some younger folk, to A: talk more quietly at the nurses' station, and B: that they never know the whole story, so stop JUDGING.

Regarding my move, I love the area. New Hampshire is glorious in the autumn, truly. And I need to move as soon as my lease is up, because you never make as much (take-home) money as you thought you would, and convenience and proximity to the hospital makes my apartment too expensive for me. I have student loans to pay back!

And I finally am in a position to make my private massage business a reality. And it's perfectly legal to do so here out of my home, which makes it a lot easier for me. I have my spare bedroom set up as a treatment room, and it's wonderful! Hopefully that will ramp up as time goes on and word of mouth spreads. We'll see.

So, that's the update. I'll try to be better about posting more frequently, I see that it's been over a month! YIKES!

Yeah, I have a blog post dying in the drafts folder, since I lost the fire to finish it as the immediate urgency waned. It was about the Day of the Needlestick. It was a Very Bad Day. I had a discharge followed immediately by an admission (like, the minute the room was cleaned), and the discharged patient was the one I got the needlestick from. I was deaccessing her mediport, and the honking big Huber needle whipsawed back and jabbed me in the thumb. Right through the glove and I started bleeding like a stuck pig. Hurt like a motherfucker. Turns out there's a safety mechanism on said needle and I didn't engage it. Whoops. Now I know.

Oh, and that day was super-busy. Only my third day on unit, I never got lunch, but I did get my period. Yeah, one of those days. I had to fill out an incident report about the needlestick. And as it was a weekend, I had to wait until Monday to go to Occupational Health for an exam and blood draw.

See, this was pretty much the blogpost I had planned, so you didn't miss out at all! Except for maybe some Atomic Level Whining, so you're better off this way.

Anyhow, I'll try to post more often, but understand: When I get home after my shift, I usually just walk the dogs, eat, and go to sleep.

This weekend I'm headed back to Mass to visit and do Fun Things. Including going to my first rave. With my twins. God help me! So maybe I'll even have something to blog about!

Take care and see you on the other side!

I love living in the future

As I was walking the pups about an hour ago, I realized I had left the apartment without my trusty maglite. Dammit!

Now I literally couldn't see shit.

While Tucker was completing his patented PoopWalk in a spot under a shrub, I was wondering whether I should be a dick and ditch the poo, or head back to the apartment to get my flashlight. Then the figurative lightbulb went off above my head, and I remembered I had been wanting to get a flashlight app on my phone for awhile. A few seconds later, smartphone in one hand and plastic bag in the other, I was able to do my duty.

Living in the future ROCKS!

Made it!

Mostly in one piece, even.

I have a ton of bruises on my forearms and thighs from schlepping heavy stuff up stairs, ESPECIALLY the super-awesome sleeper sofa that Marko and Robin gave us.

It has a queen-sized bed, which decided to start opening when the twins and I were half-way up the flight of stairs to my apartment.

Then the unfolding bed frame kept getting lodged on various parts of the stairs. The girls and I were laughing, because at that point, what else can you do? It was either laugh hysterically or start sobbing.

But we didn't give up! And now my apartment is all set up, except for the pictures, certificates, and diplomas I still have to hang up.

Oh, and I want to set up the spare bedroom as a nice massage/treatment room. When I have some extra cash (hah!), I want to outfit it with a hot towel cabinet and nice artwork and decorations, so it has a real spa feel. Oh, and those amazing electric, rechargeable tea lights! They had those in the last spa I worked at and they are truly lovely.

I have been running really low on sleep, what with working until the day before my move, and being obsessed with getting everything unpacked, sorted, and put away. Plus the dogs have been understandably anxious, so have been waking me up super-early.

Yesterday evening, around 6PM or so, I decided to lie down with the dogs and read a little before making my dinner. Next thing I knew, the dogs were waking me up at midnight to tell me they needed to go out, NOW.

WTF?!

I walked them, got ready for bed (for REALZ, this time) and crashed again. Until 7AM this morning.

I guess my body and brain both needed the rest! And I STILL took a nap this afternoon, albeit only for an hour this time. I am totally taking advantage of my time off, since I start my new job on Monday (*gulp*). Not that I'm anxious about that, AT ALL. Oh, no. Never.

The best thing that happened today was meeting my new dog walker, Beth. She's this amazing lady who adopts dogs considered "unadoptable". She currently has six, but has had up to eight at a time. Needless to say, she doesn't live in an apartment! Anyway, she's very nice, comes highly recommended, and my dogs loved her. Oh, and she charges very reasonable rates, which also thrills me. I'm very relieved to know that she'll be spending time with and walking my dogs anytime I'm working a twelve-hour shift.

The second-best thing was meeting a xoloitzcuintle in real life, for the very first time!
Her name is Eva, and she's very friendly and was playful with Harley and Tucker. Heh, her owner said she has a full-body suit for the winter, and I guess she'd need that!
She looks just like this, only female:

 Image Source

So, that's the updatey info! I'll be sure to post about orientation and all that jazz next week. Have a great weekend!

It Begins...

the Great Northern Migration, that is.

Today is my last shift at the AWESOME spa I've been working at since January. I'm far sadder to leave that job than my nursing one, which I bid adieu with nary a whimper on Friday.

Two of my children are helping me move (THANKS, TWINKIES!), but since neither of them currently has a driver's license, I have to drive my car up to New Hamster this afternoon, catch a bus back to Taxachusetts, then do the whole UHaul, schlepp, load, drive, unload, schlepp thingy on Monday. Then drive the twins back to Mass and pick up my fur babies and take them to our new home on Tuesday.

Lots of driving, ugh. Somewhere in there, hopefully tomorrow, I'm driving the UHaul over to Castle Frostbite, where Marko and Robin are very generously donating some items they no longer want or need to the cause of Furnishing Christina's Abode.

Wonder if I can smuggle Ygraine out with the furniture? She's adorable and a little neurotic, just like MY dogs...shhhhhhh, don't tell!
Somehow I think three pets aren't covered on my lease, though...my landlord wouldn't approve.
*sigh*
Well, it was a nice dream while it lasted! I'll just have to give her extra scritches when I see her.

A week from tomorrow I start my new job...not that I'm nervous or anything. No. Not at ALL.

Anyway, wish me luck and that my knee doesn't give me any problems doing all this heavy lifting!
See you on the other side!

Awkward Realities of Home Health Nursing

The setting: My patient's family's apartment. It's 9:00 PM, time for me to head home. I can't just walk out and leave, I have to make sure there's a responsible adult in the home. I open his bedroom door and the rest of the apartment is dark, except for a light in the kitchen. I peek in and see my patient's younger brother, playing on his iPad at the kitchen table as he eats a bowl of cereal...

Me: Hey, Pete! Is your mom or grandmother home?

Pete (9 years old): I think my grandma is upstairs at my uncle's, I dunno where Mom is...ask my sister.

Me: OK, thanks!

I peek into the kids' bedroom, the door is open, and Hazel (age 11) is on the top bunk, perusing HER iPad...

Me: Hey, Hazel! Do you know where your mom or grandma are?

Hazel: Grandma is upstairs, sleeping at my Uncle's place. I think Mom's in her bedroom.

Hazel proceeds to climb out of bed, leaves her room, and blithely walks over to her mother's room and opens the door, WITHOUT KNOCKING OR WAITING...

Mother's boyfriend (scrambling off of mom and off the bed): I'M CHANGING MY CLOTHES!

Hazel meanwhile calmly closes the door, turns and walks back to her room.

Me: Okay then, Hazel! Your mom is home, your brother is doing fine, I'll see you next week! And you should really knock on doors before opening them. BYE!

Then I hightail it out of there, probably leaving a contrail.

How hard would it have been for mom to poke (ha!) her head into my patient's room when she got home from work, just to tell me she's actually home. Or she could've even texted me if she didn't want to do that. And have people forgotten how to lock their bedroom doors? And hell, what about WAITING TO GET BUSY WITH THE BOYFRIEND UNTIL ALL HER CHILDREN ARE ASLEEP AND THE NURSE HAS LEFT?!

I'm so glad next week is my last in homecare. I can't wait to work in the hospital, which will bring its own challenges, I'm sure, but hopefully nothing quite this crass. I move to New Hampshire a week from Monday.

 

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...

Srsly.

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!

Oooooops...

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.

OooooooOOOOOOooooooOOOOOOPPPPPPPPSSSSSS!

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.

Live free or die, Bitches!

I GOT THE JOB!!!

New Hampshire, here I come...

Srsly...

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?

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...

Loss

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

It's Official

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

Compensation

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!

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.

HOLY CRAP!

It's been a looooooong time since I posted!

I've kinda been stuck in the Slough of Despond. It's hard finding a job as a brand-new RN with no experience. Luckily, I finally found a job! Granted, it's exactly the opposite of what I want to do with my shiny, new license, but SOMEBODY WANTS ME, W00T!

Yeah, pediatric home healthcare. Well, regardless: I will do my very best for my patients and their families. While still looking for that hospital gig I truly desire...

Wish me luck, I start next Wednesday!

Be careful when choosing tattoo locations...

A lady I was chatting with who admitted to 79 years admired my tattoo, then told me about her daughter, saying,

"She got a tattoo on her boob, it was a kitten. Over the years it S..T..R..E..T..C..H..E..D, and she had it turned into a unicorn. It still doesn't look right."

It was hard not to laugh while simultaneously cringing at the mental image.

Vignettes from the Spa

Even though I blogged about Valentine's Day weekend and how crazy-busy I was, I got sidetracked recounting the horrendous drive home on Saturday night and completely spaced mentioning how Friday the Thirteenth kinda fucked me over! OH, NOES...we cannot have that! So I must share the stories with you!

I'm not superstitious at all (discounting my belief in Tip Karma), but I swear Ft13 was out to get me.
I dropped shit. I broke shit. I made messes everywhere.

For example, I was hustling to grab a bite to eat between clients (because of course we were slammed and I was starving), and while I attempted to snag a piece of apple out of the fridge, I knocked my coworker's tupperware container of yogurt and chia onto the floor. Where the lid popped off and half of the yogurt spilled. So not only did I waste half of her food, I was late getting my next client because I had to clean up the mess!

My massage gel bottle tipped over in the microwave where I was heating it up. Mess, late. Lather, rinse, repeat.

I was pulling paper towels out of the dispenser, and the cover ripped off the wall.

See what I'm getting at?

Then you add in the clients and you get a recipe for more shenanigans. One lady was menstruating and sprang a leak. Those sheets got tossed, we didn't bother dealing with them except to bag 'em and toss them in the trash. On a slow day we probably would have washed them separately with bleach, but with Valentine's Day weekend madness, the laundry was already piling up and we were hard pressed to keep up with the wash-dry-fold-restock cycle.

Finally, my last massage of the day was another couple's massage. 90-minute Deep Tissue on a big guy who was sore from all the snow removal he had been doing for work, pretty much working seven days a week for the past month or so. He and his lady were taking a much-needed break. I killed myself working on him for 90 minutes, and my colleague and I were waiting for the couple right outside the room with water when they emerged, blinking sleepily. I was slightly skeeved but hopeful when he lowered his voice confidingly and confessed to having "left something on the 'bed'" for us.

Sigh

First of all, it's a FUCKING MASSAGE TABLE, not a bed. For the millionth time.

Second, leaving me cash on the rumpled sheets makes me feel like a whore.

Third and Last, leaving me only TEN DOLLARS for a kick-ass, 90-minute super-deep tissue massage makes me feel like a CHEAP whore.

Not a feeling I relish, believe me. Although, making my coworkers laugh uproariously when I explained my reasoning to them made it ALMOST worth it...

Have I mentioned how shitty the roads are? I mean, considering what Mass residents pay in taxes, you'd think the roads would be better maintained. Not so much.

One of the main routes I take during my commute is truly a nightmare. Frost heaves and GIGANTIC potholes make for an interesting drive. It's much worse of course when I'm driving home at night and the visibility is poor. Then I curse in counterpoint to the ker-THUNK of driving into a pothole I saw too late to dodge.

In other news, I have dubbed a new client "Tiny Dancer", because she truly is. She's so small and slight, the hot towel I put on her back is too big. A hand towel. Her back is so narrow, the edges of the towel brush the sheet on the table. And she's so petite (aka SHORT) that I have to fold the bottom of the towel over so it's not too long for her back. Unbelievable. Oh, and she is a dancer, so the nickname really fits. What's even more unbelievable is that I had to do such deep tissue on her that I swear I could hear her ribs creaking, and I think I bruised my ulna on her shoulder blades. Wicked high pain tolerance.

The variety and diversity (or are those the same?) of the human body never cease to amaze me. We all have basically the same parts, but we're all different, sometimes radically. That's one of the reasons massage will never bore me. The other reason is that massage provides blog fodder, so we all win!

Observations on Valentine's Day

As a massage therapist, V-Day can kind of suck. Especially when it's part of the weekend, like this year. It's usually the busiest weekend of the year at any spa. It was super-nice to come home to flowers, and my daughter gifted me with chocolate (OMNOMNOM) and a cute card, so that rocked.

And granted, I made a lot of money, but DAMN, I was exhausted last weekend. For the first time in a long time, my hand actually hurt by the end of my shift. Well, it started hurting during my second-to-last massage, with my right thumb leading the charge to PAIN. I think all the shoveling of snow and scraping of ice lately contributed to that, and probably the fact that I'm lifting weights again, too.

Making V-Day even worse, It didn't help that we're experiencing a winter that resembles Dante's 9th circle of Hell. Ugh, driving home in a blizzard last Saturday night was horrendous. The new spa I work at is located in the downtown area of a quaint historical village, normally about 25 minutes away from home. Well factor in beginning blizzard conditions, giant snow banks everywhere reducing both visibility and LANES,  and Massholes, and it took me over an hour to get home.

Are y'all familiar with "The Fast and the Furious: Tokyo Drift?" Don't feel bad, I haven't seen more than the trailer myself. But as my car slid ever-so-gently and somewhat gracefully toward a 15-foot snowbank while I was carefully making a left turn, all I could think of is, "I'm starring in 'The Slow and the Petrified: Peabody* Drift'!"

The number of stupid people I saw on my commute boggles the mind, by the way. There was one gentleman, bundled up appropriately, but wearing all dark colors, with no reflective vest or lights, riding his bike in my lane, but going in the opposite direction. The shoulders of the road and the sidewalks were all buried in tons of snow. The only reason I even saw him were the two white, plastic bags with take-out (I'm assuming), dangling from his handlebars. They were swaying hypnotically to and fro, like giant testicles, and caught my eye, lucky for the almost (future?) Darwin Award winner. I guess when you want Chinese food, and they're not delivering, by golly, you're going to get it yourself, weather be damned!

On one stretch of my commute, the right-most lane turns into an exit, while the two left lanes swoop down into an underpass. The barrier between the underpass and exit is clearly marked, and a yellow flashing light helps make it visible. As I was approaching, I was worried that I'd hit the divider, because I couldn't see the yellow light. The snow coming down and blowing everywhere was severely reducing visibility, windshield wipers in overdrive notwithstanding, and the drifting and accumulating snow on the road surface rendered lane markings invisible. I was just trying to stay in line with the brake lights ahead of me and stay in the tracks. As I inched closer to the divider, I still didn't see the flashing yellow light, but I did see some red ones...I guess I didn't need to worry about driving up onto the dividing barricade because someone had already beaten me to it! It must have just recently happened, because no police cars or tow trucks (or ambulances!) were there, and the driver was pacing back and forth alongside his car, which was really wedged up there good. Poor guy.

This was all white-knuckle driving. Which didn't help my right hand at all. Finally I made the turn onto my street. I was so fucking THRILLED to see a snow plow, I didn't care that I had to follow slowly behind it. I was just glad to see and drive on pavement, however briefly. My elation popped like a soap bubble at a hedgehog convention when I got to my driveway and saw that the ever-helpful snowplow had plowed it shut with about a two-foot wall of slush, snow, and ice. No way was my car going to power through that, even if I had been willing to risk trying. I mean, two years ago I attempted something similar and smashed my beautiful Blue Zephyr into a hedge! I don't have the money for that shit. Again.

So, at 10:30 PM, after pulling a massage double shift and driving home under truly shitty conditions, I had to call SCI-FI and my daughter (she of the card and chocolate) to bring snow shovels down from the house and to help me shovel out a path big enough to get the car onto the property and park. Said car meanwhile was mostly blocking the lane and I was panicked that someone would smash into it, despite my hazards blinking a warning.

Oh, and shoveling snow involved finding a place to PUT it. Which meant lifting the shovel over my head to try to heave the snow onto an already-imposing snow bank. With the severe wind we had, usually half of the load blew right back into my face (NO JOKES, YOU SICK FUCKS.)

Finally we managed to get my car parked safely and all three of us trudged back to the house to get warm. As I nibbled on my Valentine's Day chocolate (thanks, Tally!) and sniffed my flowers (thanks, SCI-FI!), I pondered the only benefit to the blizzard that I could see: I was lucky enough to get a snow day for Sunday, yay! Some of my colleagues weren't as lucky. Remember the spa's location, downtown in a quaint, historical locale? While a State of Emergency was declared for Sunday, meaning driving to the spa was a no-go (no matter what our clients think of us, or how self-important we might be, being a massage therapist does not make you "emergency personnel"), plenty of staff and customers live within walking distance of the spa, so the manager opened for business at 1PM on Sunday afternoon!  Gutsy move on her part.

And I guess enough clients to make it worth opening the spa subscribed to the old adage (which I just totally made up): "Nothing says LOVE like walking through a blizzard to get a couple's massage!"

Ah, Valentine's Day...good thing you only come once a year.
_______________________________________________________________________________

*That's pronounced PEE-bid-dee in these here parts, just FYI.

Hubris

Just because I've been doing massage for over nine years now doesn't mean I know everything and have seen everything.

When my client told me, "By the way, just so you know...I'm really hairy," I should have refrained from uttering a condescending, "Oh, don't worry about it, I've been doing this for a long time and, trust me, it's not a problem."

HAH!

I AM professional enough that not even a shocked "MEEP!" escaped me when I draped my client's back, but the "most hirsute client EVAR" position was handily won. Yes, he beat the German-shepherd-esque client I massaged way back in school.

I wasn't even grossed out, I'm over that shit. The logistics were interesting, however. Half a bottle of lotion was used, as the pelt absorbed the lion's share before it could reach the skin. Care was taken not to pull or tug too much, nor to tie knots in the hair (which has been known to happen on occasion!).

I could share more, but making fun of my client is not the point. He can't help the fact that he could wear a mask and nothing else and be set for Halloween. The point is that I have no business getting too big for my britches. In nursing, that's a given. I'm a total n00b and know nothing. But I guess in massage therapy, I've been getting complacent. It's really good that I'm working in a new, fabulous spa, where I'm learning new modalities (WARM BAMBOO, ZOMG, it's AMAZING!) and new techniques. It's important to stay (somewhat) humble.

I ain't all that!

Overhead in the treatment room...

I'm about three-quarters of the way through massaging a male client...

Client: Ahhhh, there's nothing like a woman's touch...

Me, thinking: You're lucky I don't "touch" you vigorously upside your head!

Seriously, that's not a compliment, under the circumstances it was kinda creepy!

ACHIEVEMENT UNLOCKED

NCLEX!!!

I am now officially an RN (well, I need to get my license in the mail, but let's not quibble...I passed the fucking NCLEX!)

So, Christina RN LMT...hmmmm.

SO HAPPY AND RELIEVED RIGHT NOW!!!

The test was truly awful and a total mind-fuck. You walk out of there feeling like an utter loser, like there's no chance you passed. Then you have to wait to find out. And if you want the "quick results", you have to still wait 48 hours and shell out eight bucks to get the Pass/Fail.

But I'll put it all behind me now and focus on finding a job!! Fix my resume to show my shiny new credential and start applying everywhere.

Wish me luck!

Hiatus

Hah! Not like I've been updating with any regularity anyway, but I really need to focus on studying for the dreaded NCLEX, which is scheduled for February 3rd. Gulp.

So I've decided to put the blog on hiatus for awhile. If anything super-exciting or interesting should occur, I might feel motivated enough to blog about it...but maybe not!

So until later, friends!

I'm done.

I can add "BSN" to my name. But now to get the "RN" part...

Time to study for NCLEX!

Then I have to find a job.

If only nursing jobs were as easy for me to find as massage jobs. I got another one, btw. Massage job, that is. I go in for training on Tuesday. This looks like it could actually be my "massage home", the one I've been looking for since I started doing massage therapy to begin with. Fingers crossed and all that.

Anyway, I'm beat and need to head to bed.

Merry Christmas, Everyone who celebrates it!

RIP Buck...

we will miss you greatly. I'm sorry we never got the chance to meet in person, but I enjoyed our occasional emails tremendously. Your blog was always entertaining (except for the HOCKEY, lol!) and your reminiscences were fascinating and enlightening.

Rest in peace, my friend.

Huge Sigh of Relief...

The moment has finally arrived: PINNING CEREMONY!!

I took my last final on Tuesday and tonight I will be officially welcomed into the ranks of nurses. (We won't go into the whole "officially-graduated-but-no-commencement-ceremony-until-May" thing, that's why we're doing the pinning ceremony in the first place. Yes, despite having my BSN now [w00t], I still plan on coming back in five months for the cap and gown. I earned it.)

I'm so thankful and grateful for my friends and family, without whom I never would have made it to this point. I could never have succeeded in a vacuum, and I'm going to make sure that they know *I* know this and appreciate all they've done.

The lovely Phlegm Fatale has been staying with us since Saturday, and we've had a blast (including going to see The Buttcracker in Boston last night, totally worth losing sleep and something I want to go to next year, too. It was a hilarious and fun show!) I'm so happy she could make it out here, not just for the pinning ceremony, but to spend time with all of us. We've missed her sparkling presence!

Tonight (and tomorrow night, and Saturday night) is for celebrating!

Thanks to all of you readers, too, for coming along for the ride all these years. I appreciate you!

Yesterday...

was my last clinical. I bade a fond farewell to Ginormous City Hospital but hope to see her again in the not-too-distant future...hopefully as an employee earning a salary, dammit!

My preceptor (HAIL, PRECEPTOR!) was amazing, I couldn't have asked for better. She's been an RN for 28 years and she wrote me a letter of recommendation...the first time she's ever done so!
I'm so lucky and blessed.

I had my (hopefully!) last presentation today during clinical conference, and now all I have left is one group paper to finish and submit, then my finals. I see the light at the end of the tunnel, and I sure hope it's not an oncoming train!

My pinning ceremony will be awesome! My daughters are going to all be present, and my oldest brother, whom I haven't seen since 2008, is flying in for a few days to be there, too. He's the one who got me into healthcare in the first place, way back in 2002, by encouraging me to look for a CNA position with a company that paid for training. I did and never looked back. It's funny, because I never wanted to have ANYTHING to do with healthcare, thanks to my dysfunctional relationship with my mother, who pushed and nagged me to become a doctor all throughout my childhood and adolescence.

Strange how these things work out, innit?

Of course the stalwart SCI-FIs will be there. After putting up with me, my crazy dogs, and my even crazier children (off and on) over the past three-and-a-half years, they will be cheering the loudest, no doubt. ;)

Phlegmmy will bring her ineffable style and class to the event, showing these New Englanders what a REAL Texas lady is like. 

Hopefully I'll have some pictures from my pinning that are postable, and also some pics from or posts about all the get-togethers in the time before and after the pinning, when we squire Phlegmmy around to meet folks who are on tenterhooks to get the chance to be graced by her presence!

Oodles of fun will be had by all! I'll keep y'all up-to-date, I promise... :)

So close, I can almost taste it!

Five weeks from today is my official pinning ceremony. I can't believe it. I have two more clinical sessions (20 hours altogether), and four weeks of lectures, followed by final exams. I have my capstone paper to correct and turn back in and a group project/paper to finish, then I'm done with assignments, hallelujah!

Then, of course, comes the dreaded NCLEX. Fuck. I already signed up for a five-week, online test prep (my university requires that students sign up for an outside NCLEX prep in order for us to graduate), and I'll do that on my own time right after graduation up until I take the exam, whenever that may be. I've already paid for it and registered, but I can't schedule my exam date/time until the state board of nursing gets proof of my having met all requirements from my university. I'm aiming for end of January. During the prep time I'll be applying to every fucking hospital in a 30-mile radius of Boston, of which there are many (I'm planning on maintaining a spreadsheet to aid in organization!).

So, we'll see how everything goes. I'm so glad my daughters, my oldest brother, the wonderful SCI-FIs, and my dear Phlegmmy will be at my pinning. My dad, who had enthusiastically agreed to come, bowed out last week, mumbling something about going to Germany for Christmas with his wife. Thanks, Dad. Ach, who needs you anyway?

Anyway, I know you three readers have been with me on this incredibly long journey, and I appreciate it. I've been taking classes towards my degree since January of 2008, so this is a long time coming.

CRAP...I just realized I missed my blogiversary, AGAIN. It was last month. I've been blogging here since October of 2006! Holy crap, that's EIGHT YEARS. Might as well be a century in internet years!

Don't worry, though. I'm sure being a fledgling nurse will provide plenty of (HIPAA-compliant) blogfodder! Don't touch that dial...

Don't Bother.

If your idea of being helpful is to loudly berate our agitated and delirious patient while my preceptor and I are attempting to bargain with him to take his medications, merely because he's dropping the F-bomb in our oh-so-delicate, female presence, STOP.

You're not being helpful in the slightest, you're adding to the problem. Not to mention that not only have my virgin ears been sullied by profanity before, I've actually been known to cuss myself!

THE HORROR.

After spending most of the day with him as a one-on-one patient observer, you should know that being confrontational (and LOUD) with this particular patient is completely and utterly counter-productive.

I like you better when you're surfing on your smart phone or watching TV. Keep that in mind for the next time, or I'll have to have words with you. I'll even refrain from cursing. Barely.

Midnight Elevator Encounter, or I Know How Stupid it Was...

My clinical schedule sometimes necessitates my parking in a garage near the subway station. The other night, I left the hospital late and didn't get to the garage until midnight.

All I wanted was to get to my car, drive home, and go to sleep. I was beat. So when the elevator doors opened, I only hesitated a moment before entering, despite the guy already on the elevator.

The guy who was standing in the corner, WITH HIS BACK TO THE DOOR, WEARING A DARK BLUE HOODIE WITH THE HOOD COVERING HIS HEAD, RUMMAGING IN HIS BACKPACK.

Yes, I know. I was stupid. I should have backed up and taken the stairs or waited for the next elevator. If life had a soundtrack, I'd have heard ominous music as the elevator doors opened, warning me that Something Bad might be about to occur.

As it happened, I didn't give a fuck in that moment. Maybe subconsciously I was thinking, "I refuse to let fear guide my actions." Maybe I didn't want to offend the guy. Maybe I took his slender build in with a glance and realized I could probably take him in a fight (because I'm fucking MEAN when I have to be, and I fight dirty). Of course, if he had a knife or gun, I'd be screwed. Most likely it was just fatigue clouding my judgment.

So, instead of being smart, I stepped into the elevator,  hit the button for my floor, and addressed him loudly, "Where are you going?" I wanted him to turn around so that I could see what he was up to.

Here's where it really gets surreal. The dude turned around and faced me, and he was drooling like a mastiff. I'm not even kidding, it was like a waterfall running out of his mouth, down his chin, and dripping onto his clothes. Incessant. Copious. Disgusting. I don't know if he had some kind of handicap, or if he was high as a fucking kite (though from looking at his eyes, I vote for "high"). Either way, I maintained eye contact as he mumbled something about wanting to get on the train. I cheerfully pointed out that he'd "missed [his] stop," since he needed to get off on the previous floor, and as the doors opened on my floor, I hit the proper button for him and hightailed it towards my car, while glancing over my shoulder to make sure he stayed ON the elevator.

My adrenaline was through the roof at this point and I was darting glances all over the deserted parking structure (which I naturally do anyway, I'm not completely stupid, all appearances to the contrary!) Without further incident I got into my vehicle, the trusty Blue Zephyr, and drove home.

Of course, thanks to the adrenaline rush, I ended up not getting to sleep until 3AM...

Let this be a cautionary tale for all of you, especially my daughters. Don't be dumb. This could have ended tragically and only luck was on my side.
______________________________________________________________________________
*edited to change "adrenalin" to "adrenaline", because otherwise my daughter was going to stroke out.

No. Just...no.

"Red Apple Bakery" air freshener.

In the bathroom at work.

This means that when I run in to pee between clients, I start gagging because it smells like someone took a dump on a freshly-baked apple pie.

This is even worse than pine-scented air freshener. Because sometimes you do poop in the woods, but I hope to God nobody shits on apple pie...it would be un-American!

__________________________________________________________________________________

*note all the bullet points in the description at the link...much like adding "in bed" to every fortune you find in a cookie, I just add "with shit" to these descriptions.

Post-Blogorado Blues

Thank you to the FarmFamily for again making Blogorado a wonderful experience!

A true respite from the daily grind and an opportunity to spend time with my tribe. For me, the shooting is completely secondary. Don't get me wrong, it's fun, but definitely not as important to me as being with my Peeps! It didn't help that I couldn't seem to hit the broadside of a barn this year...I'll blame it on the wind! It was windy as fuck most of the time we were there, and we won't get into the rain that turned the dirt roads into slick nightmares to navigate in our rental minivan (next year def an SUV!).

Much fun was had eating delicious food, talking smack, and sharing tales of derring-do and Items Removed from Rectums (you had to have been there.)

Quote of the week for me: "My husband will eat my biscuit," which sent even the waitress into spasms of hilarity.

Now I'm back to the grind of school, but already looking forward to next year...

I fucking LOVE living in the future!

I spent 7 hours in the OR today, watching a robot do surgery. So. Cool.

One thing about Ginormous City Hospital (GCH): everyone, and I mean EVERYONE is nice. The head surgeon took off his glove when introduced to me just to shake my hand. He then proceeded to tell me how important the whole team is in the OR, that he couldn't do his job without every single person in there. Very impressive, with none of the arrogance one is led by TV and movies to expect.

I had a truly great experience, but it again reinforced my opinion of OR nursing: incredibly boring and definitely not up my alley at all, as interesting and enjoyable watching the procedure was.

I do hope I get hired at GCH. I have loved that hospital from the first moment I stepped through the doors.

Moar! Clinical! Fun!

I had a much better day at clinical today (*whew*)!

I FINALLY DID A STRAIGHT CATH!!! YAY, I MADE PEE!!!

Of course, I cracked my preceptor up by saying, "I have PENIS," before correcting myself quickly and saying, "I have URINE!"

In addition, I did a wound dressing change, observed both a JP drain and a chest tube removal, used a ceiling lift, and wrote a nursing progress note. Among many other things, of course. 12 hours sometimes doesn't seem like enough time.

I also suggested to the doctor removing the chest tube that we raise the patient's bed higher, he was almost bent in half doing his work! These youngsters, gotta look out for 'em.

So, all in all, a very good day. Let's see if I can keep it up! As my clinical instructor said at the beginning of the semester, I should consider this semester one long job interview.

Fun at Clinicals

I just got home from my second hospital clinical session of the semester, and this happened:

1. I dodged flying poo, successfully.

2. My scrubs pocket received a lovely infusion of 5000 units of heparin. Luckily the needle stayed capped.

3. My patient, towards the end of the shift, told me I looked exhausted. That can't be good.

4. I got my period. With a VENGEANCE.

5. Related to 4., one-ply toilet paper in the staff restroom? No bueno!

And I go back this weekend for 24 more hours of fun! But first, I have the introduction and annotated bibliography for my Senior Capstone paper to write...

Weird Dreams

I had two bizarre dreams last night. In the first, I went to my favorite bowling alley (not that I have one in real life, I haven't been bowling in close to a decade, I'd say...). I was dismayed to find that the bowling alley had decided to feature Nude! Bowling!

I turned around and left, 'cause who wants to see that shit?

In my second dream, Marko came over to my place and commenced house cleaning. I followed him around to make sure he did a good job. No, he wasn't nude. (Get your minds out of the gutter!)

He wasn't wearing a French maid costume, either. Dammit.

My brain is weird. Or maybe it was the antihistamine/decongestant combo I took right before bed.

The Greatest Generation

Recently I had the honor of massaging a lady who was born at the tail-end of WWI (no, I didn't forget an additional capital "i"...) It was her first massage ever, so she was a little nervous and chatted throughout the massage.

She was a gracious, friendly lady who regaled me with snippets of her life's story (we would have been there far longer than an hour had she told me the whole.)

Three things struck me the most:

First, she was incredibly blunt and honest (and funny!)

Second, she told me after the massage that she was going to go home and have a beer.

Third, she gave me the best handshake I've experienced in YEARS. I'm not even joking. When/how did Americans lose the art of the good handshake? Here's a woman closing in on her 100th birthday, and she gave me a better handshake than anyone I've shaken hands with, male/female/young/old, in years.

I think it is an illustration of the decay of American society and good manners. Or maybe I'm just an old fuddy-duddy who lived in Germany too long. But I suspect the first...

I'm really glad my professional filter works.

As my elderly male client groaned, "Oh, that feels SO GOOD...the deeper you can get the better," the evil little voice in my head snarked, "That's what SHE said!"

It's a good thing my brain-mouth filter has a WORK SETTING.

Conan said it best.

I crushed the HESI exam so hard, I swear I could hear the lamentation of the women...

(feel free to fast-forward to 1:10...)

Yay, one less thing to worry about!

I'm NOT an Apple FanGrrrrrl...

so why did I dream of Steve Jobs?

I dreamed that I had a severely torn left rotator cuff, and Steve Jobs had healing hands, which he laid on my shoulder. I turned to him and said, "I can HEAR the buzzing!"

His hands were indeed buzzing, and hot, and they healed my rotator cuff perfectly in a couple minutes. Then I woke up. Weird. I didn't even get to say thank you!

TMI

Welcome to perimenopause. FML.

While always grateful...

for any cash tips, getting a wad of ones makes me feel like a stripper.

One who's having a bad day.

She's playing my song...

which I can't get out of my head today. Because I'm ALL about that bass (no treble).

In other news, I'm gearing up for the semester (my LAST, w00t!). Which involves fretting and stressing out about stuff I probably shouldn't be worrying about. Plus, I'm busy getting one child settled at a nearby university and finding her a place to live, and helping her twin with the enlistment process, which seems to take A. LONG. TIME.

I'm still waiting to hear from my preceptor, which probably is the biggest source of my anxiety. I can't give my work and volunteer organization my availability, and it's only a few weeks away, dammit! Hello, Preceptor...email me, willya? Please? Who knows, I might be doing night shifts this semester!

So, anyway, that's all that's been going on here with me. Nothing much, basically. I'll keep you posted.

Sporadically. :D

Unusual Compliment

Here's one I've never heard before, that I got from a client the other day:

"You're awakening my soul!"

Allrighty then...I'll take that.

Rude!

We were sitting in a restaurant celebrating SCI-FI's birthday the other day, and I noticed a couple at a nearby table who appeared to be on a romantic-type date. There was some snuggling before the male half of the couple moved to the other side of the table, lots of intimate looks and smiles, but what stood out the most to me is the smart phone resting on the woman's lap. Even while eating she'd glance down at it and even text occasionally (or type, who knows?).

Is this acceptable behavior now? I found it incredibly tacky and rude. My daughter Chaos played devil's advocate and reasonably pointed out that perhaps the lady had something urgent going on at work and needed to keep working on it through dinner.

Hmph. Maybe I'm old-fashioned, but I think it's wrong to focus so much of one's attention on a digital device while out on a date. Put it in your purse or pocket, in silent mode or off.

YAY!

I have a child (Hi, TalliahAngel!!) who is in the process of enlisting in the US Air Force.

She took her ASVAB today (Armed Services Vocational Aptitude Battery) and scored 94!!
I'm so proud of her!

Now it looks like she's set to take the DLAB (Defense Language Aptitude Battery) next week, which is the next step in becoming a Cryptologic Linguist...like mother (and father), like daughter!

Proud mother is proud.

Identical Twin Humor

As a mother of (identical) twins, I've had to learn to tolerate the sometimes inexplicable humor my girls share.

Take yesterday, for example. We're driving down the highway, and one twin (who is wearing the same hair accessory and (almost) identical glasses as the other, which is NOT a common occurrence) says to her sister,
"You're so DUMB. Look at your dumb BOW, and your dumb GLASSES, and your dumb FACE!"

Immediately her sister ripostes, "No, YOU'RE so dumb! Look at YOUR dumb bow, and YOUR dumb glasses, and YOUR dumb face!"

Cue uproarious laughter from the girls, but not from me. I'm too busy trying not to crash the car as I simultaneously facepalm and roll my eyes.

Oh and the most inexplicable thing about all this is that my twins turn 21 this year...and they're STILL making jokes like this (and finding them funny!)

Quote of the Day

My daughter Chaos, outraged upon hearing that there's no McDonald's in Terminal 7 of LAX:


How can there be no McDonald's?! This is the Land of the Free and the Home of the Brave!!!


Welcome home, Honey! 


 

For some reason...

I get a kick out of my two pups simultaneously lifting a leg on opposite sides of a tree/post/hydrant. Anytime this happens, I admonish them with

Don't cross the streams!!

I'm VERY easily amused.

To all the good ones out there...

Hopefully you know who you are and are valued!

Happy Fathers' Day!!!!

Quote of the Day

"Starbucks coffee tastes like heartburn. Or dragon piss. And Starbucks espresso tastes like vodka plus heartburn."

Missed the date...

Looking at the calendar, I realize that a few days ago was the 12th anniversary of the date my divorce was final. Now I've been divorced the same length of time I was married.

Make of that what you will, I suppose.

So...

I now have this fairly cushy spa gig, where I'm the only massage therapist on duty during my particular shift. It's a really nice spa which mainly focuses on skin care, so massage is almost an afterthought, but I'm working really hard to shift that perception, one massage and client at a time. ;)

So far it's not been very taxing, except for my first day where I subbed for the call-out and got thrown in with no prep. Business has been slow and I don't mind.

What gets me is my volunteer work.

Two hours a week I go into Boston and massage people from a pretty marginalized population. I'm sorry I'm being so vague, but I really can't go into detail without potentially giving away the organization I volunteer for, which defeats the purpose of this whole "anonymous blogging" gig, not to mention it risks violating my clients' privacy.

Physically the work is generally very easy, I've only had a couple of clients who've wanted deep tissue massage, but emotionally...it's been harrowing.

I've had clients experience emotional breakdowns during the massage session, sobbing and covering their faces. I've had clients relate traumatic events to me. I had a client tell me that he feels more comfortable talking to me than his therapist.

Touch is a powerful force, and I will never abuse it. And as difficult as these sessions might be for me, my clients are the ones who have lived through experiences I hope I never will, and are dealing daily with problems I can only view from the outside, for which I'm truly grateful.

All I can do is give them the best massage I possibly can, listen empathetically, and offer tissues, not platitudes. Hopefully that's enough.

FINALLY Part II

My grades for this semester FINALLY posted...

Yay, straight A's! I've not managed that in a couple semesters now, so it's about frickin' time.

I'm so happy. Now it's time to relax a bit. Headed to the movies soon for (possibly) a double feature, definitely Amazing Spiderman 2, possibly Godzilla, and who knows? I really want to see X-Men: Days of Future Past, too...

Memorial Day

Thank you for your sacrifice. I hope we who were left behind prove worthy of it.

 

FINALLY!

Last final completed, last major project plus paper finished and turned in (attheverylastminute!).

I am exhausted but yet I FEEL FANTASTIC! Summer, here I come!

And you know...next semester is my LAST semester in nursing school, w00t! Can't wait to be completely done.

When squirrels attack!

We live on an acre of land, and the neighbors have about the same size lot. There's no fence, and they don't care if my dogs are roaming around over there because 1. my dogs ignore the chickens and 2. more poop=more fertilizer.

After the incident of Tucker getting tagged by a car while attempting to get into a garbage bag left by the side of the road, I've been much more diligent about always going out with the dogs and keeping them within sight while they're doing their business (which includes scrounging under the neighbor's rabbit hutches for dropped food).

This morning, while half awake, I was standing in my jammies in the shade of a tree while observing my pups water the flowers (so to speak), when suddenly I was nearly beaned in the head by a bagel.

Yes, a bagel. From the sky.

As I stood there stupidly gazing at the bagel lying innocently in the grass, my sleepy brain trying to process it, I heard a rustling up in the tree and quickly looked up to spy an EVIL SQUIRREL looking back at me with its beady black eyes.

"Ah HAH," I triumphantly crowed. "Behold the villain of the piece!"

Now the question is: Did the squirrel really try to hit me in the head with the bagel? Or was it trying to appease the canine brute squad by tossing the bread down to them in the hopes that it itself would be ignored ("Please, for the love of all that's holy, TAKE THE BAGEL BUT SPARE ME! I have kits in the nest that need me!").
 There is some truth to this, because my dogs did run over immediately after they literally saw manna fall from heaven, and only my sharply-spoken "Leave it!" deterred them from starting to nosh.

Of course, the most mundane explanation is that the squirrel merely lost control of the too-big-for-it-to-carry-easily food item, and the timing is just coincidence...but considering the look we exchanged as we made eye contact...

I THINK NOT!

Gonna have to wear a hard hat when walking the dogs now.

Serendipity

So, I quit my job at the spa effective March 1st, thinking that it was really time for me to find a job in a hospital, like a tech or aide position. Since then, I've been volunteering my massage services weekly, which is very rewarding in every way but one, the one needed to pay my bills!

I've applied for seven different positions at five different hospitals, and have yet to hear back from a single HR department, and when I call, I'm told the "application process takes time," and many variations of "don't call us, we'll call you."

Swell, thanks.

A couple days ago, TallyAngel and I were running errands in the neighborhood, one of which was her getting her hair cut. Her preferred salon is right next to a fairly upscale day spa, and loth to sit around and wait, I wandered next door with my Starbucks venti cup in hand, wearing jeans and a t-shirt and ratty sneakers, just to see what's what.

The lady behind the counter turned out to be the spa manager, and I casually asked her if she was hiring massage therapists. Her face lit up as she exclaimed, "Yes! What's your availability? I'm assuming you're state licensed? Can you email me your resume?"

I walked out after having had a tour of the spa, questions about commission, hours, and the like answered, and setting up a practical  (like an audition) for the next day.

Yesterday, I showed up and wowed her with my amazing massage skillz and magic fingers (and elbows!), and after speaking for a bit with the Vice President of the company (who told me that my resume was *ahem* "impressive"), I was offered a position.

I go in in an hour to fill out all the boring forms and make copies of my various certificates and licenses, then I start next week!

Serendipity-doo-dah, Bitches! Woo-hoo!
 _________________________________________________________________________________
Update:

Serendipity strikes AGAIN!

Exactly 23 minutes after this post went live, while I was in the middle of eating breakfast, my phone rang. It was the manager of the spa, and she was frantic: the sole massage therapist working Saturdays had called in sick, and would I be willing to jump in and cover her shift? With the first massage starting at 9:15?

If it involves making some much-needed moolah, then count me in!

So I came, I massaged, and I conquered. $90 in cash tips later, plus 39% commission, plus whatever credit card tip the one client left me...yeah, I'd say it was a good move to "help out". LOL...

The icing on the cake? Right before I left for the day, while I was finally filling out that boring paperwork, the manager mentioned that this was the second time in six weeks the Saturday therapist had called in sick, leaving the spa with no massage coverage. Then she said that if I wanted Saturdays, too, that shift was mine...

I'm feeling pretty good right now. Exhausted, but good!

Dream/Nightmare

I had a dream about a week ago. It starred Old NFO as a sooper seekrit spy type dude. There were all these covert operations and James Bond-type shenanigans, then he had a new assignment which required him to team up with another agent who had to pretend to be his wife...

Old NFO, you were "married" to my classmate Damarys, who's 25, from the Dominican Republic, and smoking hot. You're welcome. ;)

My nightmare was last night. Ugh.

I was lucky enough this semester to have my pediatric clinical rotation be over half-way through the semester, as we doubled up on our clinical hours every week to free up the clinical site for the next group of students. So my last Monday clinical was on March 24th. Except when I dream.

I dreamed that I woke up in a patient's room in my jammies, on a Monday morning, and it was apparently my very last clinical day. The patient was a small infant lying in a crib, and the nurse was bustling around telling me to hurry up. She told me, "He needs a blood transfusion. Take care of it."
Then she walked out of the room, leaving me alone with the sick, listless infant.

I walked over to the old-fashioned refrigerator that was inexplicably inside the room. It looked much like this one, only it was pale yellow instead of green. 

                                              source

I opened the door to find bags of blood hanging inside, so I grabbed one and turned to my patient.

Luckily, even asleep, sanity prevailed and I realized, "I don't know what the fuck I'm doing! I never learned how and I need HELP!!"

That's when I woke up; it was 3:30 AM. It took me until 5 AM to calm down enough to go back to sleep.

I think it's about fucking time this semester ended. One more week of classes, one big project, a med-calc exam, and two finals, then I'll be free for the summer. It can't come soon enough to suit me!

Ah, Spring...

where the delight of finally being able to sleep with the window open again is tempered by being woken up at 4:30 AM when the REEK of skunk wafts to my nostrils...