LammasFest 2008 - Part One

Done for another year. This was year six, and it was both exhausting and exhilarating.

Of course LammasFest officially began for me on Wednesday night when the hospital called and said that they wanted Marsha to come in and start induction proceedings since baby was a week overdue. So, they dutifully went in about 2130...whereupon the hospital told them to get some rest. They were not amused, for they'd previously been scheduled to come in at 0800 on Thursday whereupon induction would begin. Marsha was so uncomfortable and wanted to sleep in her own bed and to find out that she had to sleep in the hospital bed when nothing would be happening was just plain stupid.

Of course, I was at home pacing the floor, worrying. I had to work on Thursday morning, so first thing I went over to Labor and Delivery and inquired if everything was okay.

The personnel in LDR are not known for their friendliness, which boggles my mind considering they're in this place where in a whole lot of cases there is happiness and joy. You'd think that would wear off on 'em, wouldn't you?

But the unit clerk was annoyed that I asked. I was interrupting her break you see, and she was busily snarfing down her food and asking a question was inexcusable in her mind. She finally snarled at me that they were sleeping, and she was breaking the rules by telling me that.

Excuse me? I'm on the list, remember? I'm the mother of one of those folks you have sleeping in the room. I wasn't asking for medical information, simply how things were going. A simple, "Everything is okay, they're resting," would have been sufficient.

So, I proceeded with my work, and waited till about 0830 to give Kirk a call to inquire if he'd like to go to break with me. He and Marsha had just finished eating breakfast so invited me to come over to the room for a bit. (I say over as LDR is right next door to NICU. I'm over in LDR quite often in my job.)

So, I heard the saga of the lack of induction, how the doctor decided that Marsha was not to eat anything till whenever they got around to inducing her, which would be sometime in the next 24 hours...

Marsha's midwife was pissed and rescinded the doctor order, telling him that her patient wasn't going to starve because he couldn't get his lazy ass around the night before to start the induction.

Anyhow, Kirk agreed to give me updates every 2 hours and I'd relay news to everyone else. When my workday was done, I tried to stop by again, and the day unit clerk reamed me a new one for checking by; "These people have stated they want NO VISITORS and you are not allowed to ask us anything!"

Well...I was crushed beyond all manner of hurt. I didn't expect to be in the delivery room, but I did expect to be shown a bit of courtesy from my son and his wife, not to mention the hospital staff. I wasn't surprised by the unit clerk, though...I'll tell you about her at the end of this post.

So, with tears threatening to spill over, I headed out the door and to the bus. Once I got to my vehicle, I drove to the store to give Robert an update, and let him know that I was going to grab my tent and head to the campgrounds to get it set up and out of the way. Said I probably wouldn't sleep there on Thursday night, but I wanted to get my campsite ready since we didn't know what or when baby would arrive.

While I was still on the bus, though, Kirk called me. He apolgized for forgetting to call me at noon, and told me he was not even at the hospital; he was out collecting the raffle gifts for LammasFest, and the midwife had told him if he was going to be out of the hospital, then was a good time to be gone. So, he and I got the misunderstanding straightened out, and he told me he'd be out at the campsite later in the evening, about 1900, unless baby was trying to arrive.

I made it out to the campground, picked my site, and began to put up my big tent. That sucker is cantankerous and decided to give me all sorts of grief. And of course the rangers kept stopping by and wanting to talk to me about the event. And, I'd get one pole situated and it would fall over when I got the next one aligned. Or, I'd get them both in the holders and one end would fly out. So, I had to put my brain back in gear and decide how best to get the sucker up. In the meantime, Devin arrived and got his campsite up and going, then helped me get the rainfly on my tent. Eventually, I headed home to get some firewood for Devin, as the event firewood wouldn't be there until Friday.

Somewhere in there, Kirk called me and asked me if I had been to the hospital and had left.

"No, I'm standing in the middle of the campground putting up my tent," I said. "Why?"

"Because one of the nurses just came in and said that someone was waiting outside and she was told it was one of the grandma's."

I told him that I'd been abused by my coworkers enough for one day and would not be setting foot near the place ever again until they had the baby. So, Kirk knew that I'd really been treated badly. But, he wondered where the nurse had gotten the information that a grandma was there, and we decided that maybe there was a mixup and the grandma said the wrong room number.

But, the mystery was cleared up a little bit later. About two hours later, Marsha's mother called her, just getting ready to drive down the ramp to the interstate and head home. She had left her job at noon to drive over an hour to come visit her daughter before baby arrived. She'd gotten to the hospital, was snarled at by the same staff, and was sent to sit in the NICU waiting room...and promptly forgotten.

She sat for almost two hours, then decided that she'd leave. She called Marsha up, crying because she was hurt, too.

"If you didn't want me to come see you, you should have said so. You didn't have to make me drive up there, then ignore me and pretend I didn't exist."

Marsha was, of course, astounded. And Kirk was out at the nurses station chewing ass and taking names. They, of course, tried to convince Kirk that he was wrong, that they were only following his orders, but he straightened them out, and informed them from now on they'd BETTER get it right. Kirk and Marsha didn't want people just barging into their room, but wanted a nurse to come tell them they had a visitor and let Kirk come get the visitor and bring them back

So simple. But apparently beyond the reach of the LDR unit clerks.

In the meantime I'd gone home to get some more stuff packed to take out to the campground, not to mention firewood. Robert was fixing dinner, so I told him I'd be back as soon as I delivered the wood. (I only live about four miles from the campsite.)

I always get a feel for how the event will go depending on the wildlife. On my first trip, I got a picture of this beauty standing right outside the gate to the campground.





Not bad for shooting one handed in a moving vehicle, huh?

Anyway, on the way back, I also saw triplet fawns playing and chasing around in a clearing. It was so cute! I wished I'd had the video camera with me.

Anyway, after dinner Robert and I came back to the campground, and Brandi, her SO, and Kirk were all there. They'd moved the picnic tables together for our harvest feast, and had gotten some other things done. Robert walked the dogs while I unloaded things. I sat with Devin at the his fire till sometime after ten, then headed home to crash for the night. I had too much to do at home to get ready yet.

I'll tell you more about LammasFest in Part Two.

Oh...that unit clerk I said I'd tell you about? She's a very lucky woman. I've been polite enough to not say anything about her at work. You see, when I was working for HyVee, she also worked there as a cashier. In fact, she usually took over my register at the end of the my shift. She was/is so money hungry that she worked two full time jobs; one at the hospital, one at HyVee.

She got fired from HyVee because she used to take the tickets that were given to the customers for their soda bottle refunds, give them the money and then wait till later to actually cash in the receipts through the register. She stole about $6K from the store that way. My oldest daughter was the one who discovered it; she is the one who had to deal with the paperwork for bottle refunds and it never matched, so they set up a sting and caught this woman taking about $100 bucks a night from the registers.

The store was kind enough not to prosecute because she agreed to pay back the money. She had to agree to never set foot in the store again, and the assistant manager who thought of her as a second mother was the one who had to fire her. There's more to that story, but that's all I'm going to tell. She's lucky I haven't reported her thievery to the HR department at the hospital.

Anyway, that's the beginning of the LammasFest saga. I'll try to post more tonight or tomorrow.

Kate

Couple of Pictures...

I finally had time to load pictures into the computer, so I figured it was about time to introduce you to the newest member of the family.

I'd like you to meet my grandbaby: Jacelyn Claire. She's by far the smallest of the grandkids at birth, but she's still a wonderful little bundle to love.




I'm sure most folks try to take a picture of Mom, Dad, and Baby all together shortly after birth; I'm no exception. I love this picture.



I'm hoping to get a post done about LammasFest, but it's been slow going. I ended up with a trainee for a couple of days this week and have been so exhausted that I even overslept this morning and was over an hour late for work. But, I'll try to get things back on track very soon.

Kate

It's A Girl!

Jacelyn Claire Cheyney made her way into the world at 0643, August 1, 2008.

She weighed in at 6 pounds, 9 ounces.

We'll get a chance to see her later this morning (like you could keep us away!) and I'll soon be torturing you all with pictures.

A Blessed LammasFest to you all. Now that's what I call a great harvest!

(For those of you who don't know, Lammas is a Pagan celebration of the first harvest).

Kate

The Clock Is Ticking...

In the true spirit of Murphy's Law, with LammasFest this weekend and Marsha, Kirk and I all heavily involved with the event -

Baby is ready...or if she isn't, the docs are worried that she isn't...

Sooooooo.....Kirk and Marsha are at the hospital. She's being induced.

With luck and prayers, my new granddaughter should be here very soon.

More when the time comes.

Dx: Suicidal Ideation

Dear Patient Nineteen,

You didn't know that was your name, did you? You'd be surprised how people come through the ED with the first name of Patient. I'd like to briefly introduce myself and let you know a few things. They probably don't mean much to you because you're trying hard to die...by your own hand.

My name is Kate. I only have incidental care of you, for you see, today my assignment is working in our Critical Care Laboratory. In another place, I'd have been the one pushing doctors out of the way, palpating your limbs, looking to find some sort of usable vein to draw blood so we could start putting together the pieces of just what in the hell you've gone and done to yourself.

But I'm not in that temporary limelight. I just know you're here because a piece of paper, a requisition, just crossed my desk. It's bright yellow - actually the shade is called goldenrod. Your temporary name is there along with the other vital information we need in the lab: your sex, female, your age a question mark. No identification on you, was there? It's no wonder the docs have called for a blood gas, a lactate, a glucose, a whole passel of drug levels and a hemoglobin and hematocrit. You're in bad shape, girl.

I didn't hear about you until about 0745 when I reported to CCL from the NICU. My brief huddle with Mick, who'd relieved the overnight CLS at 0700 filled me in on your case. He'd been warned to expect lab work for you - it had been coming in regularly since you were brought in around 0300.

Someone found you under one of the bridges the homeless frequent. It was pretty obvious you aren't homeless, unless it happened that very day. You were found nicely dressed, in clothes the homeless cannot afford. Those clothes were relatively clean except for the grime you imposed upon yourself. You had a purse with no driver's license, no credit cards. Even the checks had been removed so as not to give your name away.

What in the hell were you thinking? The empty bottle of vodka gave the medics the first clue. Some suggested you got drunk, passed out and were robbed.

You came in with a probable Dx of alcohol poisoning. Your lab work showed more problems, though, and debunked the robbery theory.

Over 300 Tylenol in your belly? Not to mention that handful of antidepressants. That explains the Dx on the bottom of the requisition that just crossed my desk, that goldenrod colored one I mentioned earlier in this letter to you.

Nineteen, Patient, Female, Age Unknown.
Dx: Suicidal Ideation

Tried to kill yourself, didn't you? You probably read the fine print on your antidepressant medicine - it said you should refrain from alcohol consumption while taking those, didn't it? And the Tylenol? A whole bunch of 'em is potentially hazardous to your health - but hey - at least you probably won't be in any pain when you die, right? Or, that's what you might think. It's not like my junior high girlfriend who tried to doff herself by taking a whole bottle of Bayer aspirin. Of course, that was in the days before Tylenol. All my friend got was diarrhea for her efforts to die.

You've been thinking about this for awhile, haven't you? You've decided that life isn't fair, and everyone hates you. Or, some guy dumped you. Or, you didn't get accepted for something you wanted - a job, a car loan, nursing school, whatever. You could have decided that you'd get your way if you created enough of a fuss. Hey, I'll try to kill myself...that'll show 'em! So, you got a bottle of booze, and two lethal handfuls of pills. You can wash 'em down with the vodka.

Patient Nineteen, huh? What a name. I've often wondered at the variety of "last" names we get with the first name "Patient". Whether it's true or not, I always imagine that when an unidentified person comes into the ED, the medics make a guess - "She looks like she's about nineteen - hey, Unit Clerk, is Nineteen taken?"

And that's how you might have gotten to be Patient Nineteen. It's not like we see a chronological order come through. I mean, our last "Patient's" last name was Thirty-Four. But I really have no idea how the unidentified patients are numbered. Just be thankful you're not one of many Jane Doe's.

I wish you could be me and see some of the things I see. You see, my desk and computer are right next to the SICU Waiting Room. That's where they sent you after they got you stabilized enough to move you out of the ED.

I have a narrow little window, just big enough for a single person to stand in front of to pick up blood products or drop off lab work.

But, it doesn't hide the screams. It doesn't hide the sobbing. When I go to break, I have to pass that room. Sometimes the people can't stand to sit in there, afraid and lonely, waiting for the next ten minutes in the hour they can perhaps see you. Sometimes they're out in the hallway, desperately looking for someone who looks like a doctor, someone who might be able to give them some more information.

I wear a lab coat like the staff doctors. I've had the people waiting in SICU grasp my sleeve, begging me to let them know how their loved one is. I've walked into the elevators and found relatives scrunched into the corner, riding up and down, till they can pull themselves together and present a brave front for the people they left sitting in the waiting room.

You've touched my life briefly, Nineteen. And, you've pissed me off and frustrated me.

"What'd I do???" you might wail if you knew of my ire.

Let's talk about what you did, okay? First of all, you picked someone else's home to attempt suicide. Did you know that the homeless veteran who lives under that bridge had a daughter just about your age? She was his youngest child. He never got to see her again, because his wife left him while he was in the first Iraq war. He looked down at you and he thought of his child and he struggled to the nearest convenience store phone, luckily only a block or so away, leaving everything he owned behind, taking the chance that someone else would steal his stuff. But, he didn't want you to die, just as if you were his child.

You didn't see the face of the EMS trainee who was riding along with the paramedics. You could have been one of her friends. And, for a brief moment, she thought you were. Her hands shook as she handed requested items to the medic.

This story of shock played itself out when you got to the ED. Each person who helped you had a reaction. Some sympathetic, some jaded.

When you were moved to SICU, no one knew who you were. I passed out plasma and blood to the clerks for you. The nurses couldn't take the time to leave your side. The RT's ran their own blood gas samples to us. Good thing you had all that Tylenol on board - blood gases hurt like a sonovabitch. If you come around, you're going to have one sore wrist. Both of them, actually. But then, maybe you lucked out and they put an arterial line in so your labs can be drawn quickly.

You piss me off, Nineteen, because I have kids, too. I worried about those kids as they struck out on their own. I worried about them each and every time they went on a date, or missed curfew. I slept lightly, afraid that the phone would ring in the middle of the night and it'd be the Highway Patrol, calling to tell me "there's been an accident." I know what your parents are going through now that you're not where you're supposed to be. I have a pretty good guess how they'll react when someone figures out who you are and they are notified. I know how afraid they'll be, afraid that you'll die before they get there, afraid that they won't have time to see you and tell you they love you before you take your final breath.

I wondered if you have brothers and sisters. I wonder if you realize the anguish your suicide attempt has caused. I wonder if you will ever know that if you die you'll leave behind so many people who loved you...so many people who will wonder till their own dying breath why you did what you did.

I wonder if you'll ever know about all the nameless people who busted their asses to keep you alive...and if you do live if you'll ever have the sense to appreciate it.

Maybe you think I'm too harsh. But I have good reason.

Six years ago my adopted brother committed suicide. He took his life because his wife, who was quite ill, took her life, calling him with her intent, than delivering the final shots when he rushed to stop her. He was so broken up, he took his own life a few weeks later after getting both of their affairs in order.

But he forgot about his mother and dad. He forgot about his brother and sister. And we still mourn for him. I'm still angry at him for doing that to all of us.

And I'm taking a bit of that anger out on you, Nineteen. I hope to hell you don't do to your loved ones what was done to me and mine.

"Whenever you hear a bell ring, another angel gets their wings."

Be at peace, Little Angel.

Technical Writing Revisited

Every so often I'm forced to read the manual.

I usually try to do without because I have a problem with them.

Why do the writers of technical manuals of any sort assume everyone is on the same page they are?

Case in point. Tonight, spouse, son, and I took a wee road trip to remove my Jeep's hard top and store it in MIL's garage for the rest of the summer season. We figured the total trip would take roughly two hours.

Wrong. It took little or no time to remove the hard top and get it situated in the garage. And, since I'd owned a rag top before, it really didn't take all that long to put the rag top on...and the salesman I'd purchased Skye from had refreshed my memory on the particulars of putting the rag top on.

But, this has a Sunrider top and there are pieces that fit over the doors to connect the rag top to the doors. Those were the pieces we had to wait for, as the previous owners had neglected to bring them when they traded.

We didn't think it would take rocket science to figure it out. After all, we had the manual, right?

Fat lot of good THAT did.

You see, the manual writers assume everyone has seen these particular things before. And, even the salesman told us that these pieces go on last.

Not so. It wasn't working right. We cracked open the manual looking for information about these very important pieces and found nothing on how or when to install them. More importantly was the when.

They don't go on last, they go on first. We ended up taking the rag top partially off twice to accomplish the task. And, this rag top has only been used a time or two and was still very new and stiff. It was a struggle.

But, it's done. The rag top is on and I intend to make a detour past the car dealership tomorrow to make sure I know how to use this top. It's a bit different than my old Wrangler.

But, I sure will grumble about that manual and its lack of consideration for the folks who read it who don't work for Jeep.