Rigel's Wheel

Management - Step Up and Get Your Beatin' Now

2011-01-18T18:59:00.002-06:00

I've said it for years. I wonder, when a person steps into a particular level of management, are they escorted into a room someplace and beaten till their common sense is completely gone?

Case in point today. My lab "boss" filled in in NICU today. Our newest trainee started with the plethora of BHTS bullshit she's required to read and sign off on before we can consider her officially trained. Reading procedure manuals will numb the brain and make the victim more malleable, you know?

Anyway, I didn't even know she was on board till I brought back a sample and found her in the lab. She'd been out on a draw with my boss. When he got called out of the lab a little later, I did what I always do - I took her with me on the next draw and began introducing her to the nurses she'd be working with eventually.

We were slow today, so the draws were few and far between. When a couple of labs did come in, Boss started instructing Trainee how to process the samples. I went out on the next draw.

When I returned, I was told that I needed to take Trainee out with me to show her the ropes.

"That's fine, Boss, but when I went to get the draw, you were showing Trainee how to run samples. And, you know she's always welcome to go with me. Just let me know if you want me to wait, then take her when she's done with the sample."

Discussion then ensued about the person who Trainee is replacing; apparently at her exit interview, Leaving Employee made a special effort to comment that she felt that she'd have done far better with her job if she'd have had one person for her primary trainer.

My comment to Boss was, "Yeah, she would have benefited from that. However, I had nothing to do with her training - I was informed that her peers would be doing her training instead of me." (See how that turned out?)

He wanted to know who had made that decision. I refused to tell him a specific name, instead stating, "You know your staff as well as I do...you should be able to figure that out without too much trouble!"

But, then, in spite of saying he feels we need consistency in training, he also hears comment to that end from an exit interview, yet he still maintains that EVERYONE should be able to train someone.

I don't disagree. I think everyone develops their own techniques in doing this work; however, I believe that one person should be the primary trainer; it's a single "go-to" person for the trainee. Give them the basics, then let them begin to learn the tricks and trades from others.

But, don't stand there and tell me you want a consistent trainer, then tell me you think everyone should train. Don't tell me you want me to be responsible, then tell me that you don't want me to be with the person unless I happen to me scheduled in NICU. It makes no sense.

How can management walk both sides of the fence without rubbing their cajones raw? Perhaps when the common sense turns up missing you don't feel your cajones anymore?

Forgotten...

2011-01-12T19:59:00.002-06:00

how to be a smart ass most of the time. I realized it today when I was trying to think of a good topic to blog about.

Hmmmm...let's see...if I do a quick inventory of the things that have occupied my mind the last 36 hours or so, it becomes a very short list, which include the following:

1. Job-related crap which doesn't include my "work".
2. Trying to figure out the next chapter in my latest writing subject.
3. Wondering how I could have possibly consumed almost a whole bag of M & M pretzels in less than 24 hours.
4. Wishing Himself would go downstairs to watch stupid basketball so I could feel like I could come out of my office and not go stark raving mad.
5. Wishing I had a grown-up to talk to that shared some of my interests.
6. Being grateful that the dog laying at my feet who just farted didn't make me pass out from the smell.

In short, I'm bored to bits after being in this house with a sick spouse and only one work shift in the last four days. I'm craving good conversation, socialization and fun!

Tomorrow? Please? Pretty please????

News From the Nursery Lab 2011-1

2011-01-09T15:56:00.003-06:00

Wow. It's been almost a year since I posted anything about my work at Big Hospital Teaching School. It's been quite the ride, overall. I'll do what I can to give you an update or two.

I'm still working from 0400-1230 each day, but at least it's Monday through Friday with weekends off unless I'm on call. Even though we're short-staffed, we've still accumulated enough staffing that I'm only on call about every six weeks or so unless I fill in a vacancy. I have one weekend of full call, which means I'm on standby from 11 p.m. on Friday through 11 p.m. on Sunday night. I've got to be within 30 minutes of work, more or less. The following weekend I'm on "A.M. call" which means if the hospital census is high, I might get called in to assist for morning rounds from 0400-0800, or 0500-0900. At worst I get called in, at best I draw a bit of extra money for being on call.

The babies continue to get born, and sometimes it seems as though we have more being born and living in NICU than go home with Mom and Dad. Of course that's not so, but just seems so, for any child born without problems we don't see.

We've seen a definite increase in twin and triplet births. We're having more and more success with babies born at under 24 weeks, although their time in the NICU is long. I sometimes wonder if what we do is right, morally, even though I firmly believe that every soul deserves every chance it can get. But, then, I also wonder what kind of a life we are giving to those who have such tremendous health problems.
I wrestle with these problems in my mind often. It doesn't take long at all for a baby to become a "million dollar" baby, on the taxpayer's expense.

Because our facility is Big Hospital Teaching School, we get referrals and transfers for many things which are not commonly seen at community hospital level. We are one of the few places in the country with the ability to care for some of these babies. Many of the parents are without insurance - and because of that, many mothers have not had prenatal care, nor have the education and experience to know what to do to take care of themselves in spite of it.

Our team of doctors are wonderful; I'm madly in love with "God II". He's the nicest guy, bold and aggressive in his work, yet gentle as can be with these wee ones. I've gotten to know him enough to call him by name instead of Doctor. And, when he or "God I" call for labs, it tickles me to bits when he simply stands aside to let me do my work - he considers me part of the team, unlike some of the others who still think their offal does not stink! So, life is good in that part of my work world.

But, sometimes those of us in the NICU are not looked upon favorably by certain parents.

Currently, we are on lock down in the NICU. We are under a very real threat of violence from a parent. The child, the mother's fourth, was born normally, but with a few breathing problems, and a short NICU stay was necessary. After a few days, the child was transferred to its home hospital about two hours away.

Several days later, the child was returned to us, very very ill, with no one knowing exactly why.

Enter Dad, the father of this child, but not the others. He raised hell, stating to social workers, doctors, etc. that he was afraid that if the mother of his child was allowed to take the child home, the child would be dead before long. He ended up in jail for beating the shit out of her while she was staying at the local Ronald McDonald house. When he was released, he raised a ruckus in the NICU and was escorted out by the cops, because he said he was going to bring his gun back and kill any of us who had done anything to his baby.

So, we've been on lock down - the threat is very real, not just the ramblings of a crazed parent. We have plainclothes officers around at all times. Our entrances to NICU have all been locked and we are not allowed to enter any of the ones we use to ease our job. We can go out, but must wait to make sure the doors re-close and lock down. If we go into our one main entrance and there are non-staff calling to enter, we cannot simply badge in. We have to wait until they are identified and buzzed in. Only then can we follow.

Lock down has been for the last couple of months, and will, undoubtedly continue for a very long time. Last week, the baby passed away. Whatever happened with this child will never be completely known. The baby came back septic from the home hospital. It affected each body system in some way. The baby ended up on ECMO for awhile, dialysis for about three weeks, and many other things. Each system failure created more difficulties for life. It's sad to say, but the parents were not able to grasp the severity of the condition of the baby. Finally though, it was determined there was no brain function.

The baby was kept on life support and somehow the mother finally understood that the child she had carried for 40 weeks was not meant to live. She agreed it was time. Her child slipped quietly away within minutes of the machines being turned off.

I'm glad the baby is at peace. And I hope that someday soon the father will understand that we were not there to hurt, but to help, but Divine plan was something none of us could know.

But now we'll continue to look carefully as we go about our work. And we'll hope that craziness will not come to fruition in spite of what one man would like.

Does Opportunity Knock in 2011?

2011-01-08T12:41:00.002-06:00

A few days ago I was texting with one of my best friends who lives 2000 miles away. We're the kind of friends who, though we see each other seldom, we always know we've got each others' back. At least, that's how I feel and believe so of him as well.

So, it was with no hesitation at all I thought of him when I was beginning my effort to do something quite important to me. I asked him if he'd be, in effect, my mentor in this, a cheerleader, encouraging and more importantly, nagging me into not giving up. In short...make me accountable!

He replied that he couldn't even himself hold himself accountable, let alone someone else. It left me with my jaw hanging in surprise. When I recovered, I texted back, telling him one of his strong points has always been to motivate people. I think my comment took him by surprise as well.

As we continued back and forth, I found myself telling him to stop - that he should take the opportunity and run with it when it was offered to him.

He questioned me on what I meant. I wasn't able to continue the conversation just then, but I've been thinking about it ever since. He reads my blog, so I'm doing my best to save my texts for the month and address my thoughts here, and perhaps they will give something to consider.

I've been blindsided quite a few times in the last few years, and in spite of the initial pain, I'm finding that most times the Divine is not only trying to teach me a lesson, but if I give myself permission to *look* there's actually been a new opportunity for me hidden within. It may not be anything huge, only a stepping stone to begin a path, but it's an opportunity just the same. I've begun to look forward to life's challenges because of the opportunities which have manifested as a result. Those small positives bring joy to my life!

I wonder how many of us are all too content to wallow in the muck of our own making? We talk a good game in public, hiding our angst then cowering in the corners of our minds, drinking our own particular brands of hemlock, committing mental suicide.

When something is given to us, we neglect to reach out and grab for it, not realizing it for the opportunity of it all.

In my friend's case, I know his background, and I absolutely DO understand why he may be feeling the way he is. But, as I told him, when opportunity beckons, we simply cannot continue to live on the past - we must go "onward and upward" (Thank you to C.S. Lewis and the Chronicles of Narnia for that phrase!)

Sometimes it seems to feel as though when a person can't dig themself out of the past experiences in life, there's no point in reaching out to help others.

That's so very wrong.

Within helping others is a way to ease our own troubles. But, we don't recognize it for what it is. Those opportunities-in-the-making sometimes are not recognized for what they could be. Instead, I believe that many times we look upon them as mere annoyances; a waste of our time - the time, though, being time that we're spending reliving the past experiences we've had. Somehow we hold the past so close, babying it and cradling it like precious cargo, not even thinking that underneath it all it's beginning to become gangrenous. We need to cut away the dead of it all and let the living tissue learn to breathe again.

From where I see it, my friend is dwelling on what has happened in his past and is missing the small opportunities that may be presented.

I see this, not only in my friend(s), but ongoing in my work at the hospital. Another acquaintance of mine is so tightly strapped for money that she only has $93 dollars left for the month after paying her bills...and so, that's her grocery money for the whole month. Needless to say, it's one hellova diet plan! She doesn't complain...but she does nothing to look ahead with it, either.

She went out, got a second job to get her through some of the major debt. She lasted only four days - she was too exhausted to do double duty to get herself out of the debt. But she finds enough time to screw her boyfriend two or three times a week for the length of a work shift. Now, I'm all for plenty of sex, but wait a minute...there's something wrong with this picture in my mind. But, it's not my place in this instance to do anything more than to give her an opinion and let her see other points of view or options. If she decides getting laid is most important, than all I can do is pick up a meal ticket once in awhile to make sure she doesn't starve, then look at the opportunity she's giving me - a way to think about what is important to me, what I might do if I had a similar situation! (So very not likely! LOL!)

So, was the opportunity for me or for her? Both of us. My suggestion to her was that in order for her to hold a second job, she might have to just cut out the playground activities during the week, or at least severely curtail them instead of only getting a couple of hours of sleep per night. The opportunity for me was not only a moment to give her thoughts based on my own life experiences, but also to have the time to consider what she's doing, then figure out what and where I'd want to do in a similar situation. I had both the opportunity to help, and the opportunity to think! Good things, both!

While that probably isn't the best of examples, it's the one which came to mind because it's a recent happening. But the ultimate premise is the same...it's not about getting stuck in the rut, but working to smooth that very rut out.

For my guy friend, I reached for his help, and no matter if he felt he couldn't give it to me. What is important, I think, is that I thought of him as the best person possible to help me with my quest and I asked for it. That he can't, or won't is not as important as the conversation which followed - perhaps he'll start looking for the opportunities previously not recognized for what they might be, and the opportunity he gave me was to *realize* how very precious the opportunities are which have been given to me!

My belated wishes to all who still read this blog for a very Happy, Healthy and Prosperous 2011. The changes will be great, the opportunities many.

Blessed be.

Kate

The License of a Terrorist

2010-12-09T20:31:00.003-06:00

I was talking to a friend of mine this afternoon after I returned from frantically trying to take care of some things I'd put off longer than I wanted, or expected to.

One of those things was renewing my driver's license, which expired on my birthday this year. Thankfully in our state we have a 30-day grace period to get the thing renewed without being required to take a written or driving test.

One of the things that kept me from just renewing the license on the way home from work was that whole photo thing. I've NEVER been a tremendously photogenic person even though I think I'm not all that ugly in real life! So... in order to renew the license, it was imperative that I have enough time to actually make myself up - do the hair, do the make-up, business casual of course - no fake eyelashes or bosoms pushed up on a platter - or a saucer, which is far closer to the truth ;)

And, it's wintertime in the Midwest, so I had to be very careful that I didn't wear a coat that would make my hair all static-y and flyaway.

In other words, I was well and totally freaked out about the stupid picture - not about the eye exam or the peripheral vision part of the test, but the PICTURE.

After the obligatory wait in line, and then the half hour sitting wait for turn, my number was called. Tests taken, sent to wait for picture.

I combed my hair into place, fluffed this side, tucked that side behind ear, thought better of it, changed it back.

My turn. I stood in front of the background screen and the lady told me the new laws required no glasses on anyone, even if they wore them all the time. Glasses can be a disguise, you know.

And, you can't smile or look pleasant. You are told to stare into the camera lens, keep a straight face - don't even try for a glimmer of a smile.

Ready for my mug shot, Mr. DeMille?

Faithfully Mine....

2010-12-02T18:28:00.002-06:00

I haven't been to blog world for a very long time. I'm sure there are some people who might check in from time to time who have a glimmer of why I haven't been blogging.

And, every week SiteMeter sends me an accounting of how many hits this blog gets; of course the number is dwindling; I keep in touch with a lot of people through Facebook when it used to be my ramblings here that kept me in touch.

I wandered back over here earlier after hearing about Orion's surgery and idly wondered if I should just take this thing down - but, there is the investment in time, in caring and sharing of my words, pictures, and so forth that I don't want to lose. I've made some good friends - friends I've met in person over time, more friends I hope to meet in time. So, the blog stays whether or not anyone cares.

The Muse was severely injured in a horrific accident some months back; I wondered if She'd ever make her presence known again. She speaks to me now and again, a little older, more tired. But also more cautious, cynical and not as likely to wear her heart on her sleeve. But, She looks not too far into the future, but only one day at a time, and she reaches for Joy as Her beacon. And succeeds...most times.

You have, I realize, been told this before - that I'll post more often. But now I'll simply say I hope to post more often, and there will be no guarantees, for in the life before I wrote to attempt to entertain, but now I write for my own pleasure first and secondly to share what may or may not be interesting about the things in my life.

I was touched to look at the SiteMeter account and see that some of you still check every other day or so to see if there's something new. And, there were a couple of surprises there, too, cities belonging to names I didn't think would bother. Thank you...you touched a place in my heart I thought was lost when the Muse was injured. I feel the glimmer of hope that perhaps I did mean something to the folks who stopped by here for a moment. I hope you will drop by again and find something of worth to read from time to time.

Kate

Update

2010-04-04T08:29:00.002-05:00

This will be a brief post. I haven't blogged for a while because I've been trying to absorb as much as I can about Asperger's Syndrome and how it may or may not relate to my life. Of interest is the new Jodie Picoult novel in which one of the main characters has A.S. I haven't bought the book yet, but I will when I have the opportunity.

What I can say, however, is reading about A.S. has made a difference to me, if not to him, on my feelings about a lot of things. By my learning of the things that make life distinct for Aspies (their term for themselves) I've been better able to overlook some of the things that have made me feel badly about myself for so many years. While that may sound selfish of me, I want those of you who read this to know that it's like a huge burden has been lifted from my shoulders - that I'm NOT a bad person, NOT a bad mother, NOT unfeeling and uncaring, selfish or a bitch to live with.

I've been able to cut him a break. Understand I'm not actually treating him any differently, only am able to look at many of his totally focused energies on sports and politics to be his passions. So, I'm able, for myself, to be less resentful of the time he spends with the TV, the intensity that he gives to them.

HOWEVER...

This does not excuse rudeness or bad behavior.

Last night I had to grab my keys and cell phone and leave the house. Was I in danger? Yes, for a few seconds, I most assuredly was. Did I call the cops? No. The truth of it is until he would actually assault me, I will not involve law enforcement, knowing what I now believe are simply A.S. reactions. I got in my Jeep, drove over to the lake and then drove around for about an hour. Then I thought of my dogs and was afraid if his anger had escalated after I left, the dogs might have been hurt. So, I returned.

Drama, drama, drama.

I'd had a pleasant day, he was working. In the grocery business, holidays are horrific. People wait till the last minute to plan and prepare huge family meals, or they're looking for great deals on holiday favorites. And stores tend to not schedule as heavily as they should because many people want time off with their families. At any rate, that was the case for him. And, he'd had a really bad day. He came home and his shoulder was hurting again. He iced it down and relaxed, watching some Final Four basketball action.

Then while I fed the dogs, he stepped outside to start the grill, and do a little yard detail. I joined him, visited with our new neighbors, and played with the dogs, then put the dinner on the grill. He came back inside to watch more of the game. He was screaming passionately about the game...the kind of screaming that is totally uncontrolled, the kind of screaming that makes your throat sore.

I said, "ROBERT! Tone it down! Jesus Kerrist!" I mean, sheesh, all the windows were open wide, there were people in the neighborhood out walking dogs, doing lawn work, etc., and it seriously sounded like an axe murderer was running amok in here.

Maybe I could have been more polite about it, to be sure. Maybe it's my fault and I deserve the browbeating I got. But I don't think so.

He flew out of his chair and began berating me for criticizing his yelling. As he began, I was on the way to take the brats off the grill and turn the thing off, so I was outside. I heard him go down the hall to my office, because I'm pretty certain he thought I was in there "on the computer again". I heard him saying something about he watches TV, and doesn't go out and fuck other women or words to that effect...whatever that meant, I'm not sure.

When I came back in he was in my face. Said he (sarcastically) was sorry he was embarrassing my ass, etc. I thought he was going to hit me. I took a step back, grabbed my car keys and my bag and headed out the door without saying a word. He screamed after me, "You mean you can't even talk to me when I'm yelling at you?"

I took off, losing a little tread in four of my six gear shifts. As I said earlier, I was gone for awhile. When I returned, I found him down in the family room watching the other TV...not even basketball, simply watching/listening to music channels. He did eat dinner. I did not. I hid in my office till ten or so then went to bed. He spoke to me briefly this morning to tell me he'd fed the dogs, then he was off to work.

I'm going to go to the store shortly, grab some stuff for the crock pot and get it started, then I'll be assured that there will be supper on the table. Then I'll see what the day will hold for me. Whichever of my friends gets to me first is who I'll spend the day with.

I don't know what will happen next. I guess it's drama time again. Film at 11.

Update: Aspergers

2010-03-07T13:33:00.002-06:00

A few weeks back, blogged about the possibility of both my grandson and spouse perhaps being a part of those who march to a different drummer.

I found three books which I highly recommend. They certainly have brought a great deal of knowledge and peace to me. I'm going to pass the titles on to my readers here, because I think it would be excellent for as many people as possible to familiarize themselves with A.S.

Why? Because it explains "possibilities" for many of the unusual and fantastic people I've met over my lifetime, and it gave me insight on them and why they may do the things they do!

Anyway, see if you can pick these up at your local library. I'll bet they can get them from another library for you if they don't already have them on their shelves!

The first book is called "Look Me in the Eye" by John Elder Robison. John tells his story of growing up with A.S., what dealing with parents, teachers, etc. was like, and takes us on his journey of growing up, his thoughts, his work, his joys and successes.

I wanted to see how A.S. would affect a child, too, so I was delighted to find these next two books - one for teenagers, and the other an excellent book designed to appeal to the early primary grades.

The book designed for older kids and teenagers is written by a teenager. His name is Luke Jackson. The name of his book is "Freaks, Geeks, and Asperger Syndrome: A User Guide to Adolescence". I'm not finished with this one yet, but it certainly sounds as though it's written by a teenager! And, it's got far more information about the things that go on inside a boy's head, something I'm glad to know of as it won't be long before (my) Luke will be approaching those teenage years!

The last book is so very cute - titled "All Cats have Aspergers Syndrome" by Kathy Hoopman. It's full of great cat/kitten pictures, and the information it gives is fantastic for kids in the 4-8 year old age group. My opinion is that all primary grades should have this book close at hand to read, and it should be encouraged for the older kids to read it to the younger ones, so both age groups are reminded that just because people are different, it doesn't mean they are worthless!

Reading John Robison's book calmed me a lot on a personal level. It gave me the ability to step back and think that some of the things we've gone through could have so easily been taken care of had more been known about this subject. As it is, I can stop and take a breath, be more patient and sometimes get through to him, although I have not suggested to him that he might suffer from the same thing. I've suggested he read Robison's book. Perhaps then we will be able to discuss some deeper issues.

Thanks for reading - and again, take a chance and read these books. At the least you'll be entertained. John Robison is the guy who developed and designed most of the exploding guitars that were used by KISS on tour. His days working with rock bands alone makes it worth the read. The others are just as fantastic.

Kate

Stepping Up to Reality

2010-02-20T13:11:00.002-06:00

right along with complete and total uncertainty...

I feel as though I'm stepping off the charts into unknown waters. And, reflection upon that remark tells me this journey is going to run a whole range of emotions.

The reason is due to a "light bulb moment" I had several days ago. It will take some background information to bring any who care to read this to that moment, so please bear with me.

Part One begins like this:

A news story came out recently about a medical study in which it seems to be leaning toward the idea that more autism occurs in children whose mothers are over the age of 40 when they have their first child.

My grandson, Luke, has been thought by some of his teachers that perhaps he may have Aspergers Syndrome, which is a very mild form of autism - children with AS are typically extremely intelligent, but lack some abilities, mainly socially and emotionally, that non-AS children have. Luke, is, however, such a mild blip on the AS radar that his parents have not been pushed for getting him tested.

Why is this important to the story? Because I made the comment to my spouse that Lyn was well below the age of 40 when she had Luke - if he does have AS, that is - so I was questioning in my own mind once again how studies can be skewed to reach conclusions.

R's response was immediate and vehemet. "Luke does NOT have Aspergers. After all *I* do not have it and everyone says that he and I act totally alike!"

The light bulb clicked on in my head. Oh Gods.

I realized that when the kids told us about AS, I did not familiarize myself about it, just immediately rejected any possibility that MY grandson could have such a condition. This is unusual for me - I generally make an immediate foray into any material I can lay hands on to see what the brief check will yield - further study occurs based upon the initial findings.

But, what hit me hard was the anger and immediacy of R's response to a questioning statement that had wandered through my brain and out my mouth in a very general sort of way.

I realized that if Luke does, indeed, have a form of autism, it's vital for him to have it checked out, rejected or accepted in whatever case may be. Why? Because he's going to grow up, go through teenage years, adulthood, and grow to be a fine adult regardless of what any diagnosis might be.

Luke's parents are fantastic in dealing with their children. They make me proud. They work through the intricasies of parenthood with humor, grace and style. I can't blame them for not wanting to put a "label" on Luke that could have consequences for him in regard to relationships or employment. So, instead of sitting down with them and having a chat to convince them to get him tested, I decided to do what I should have done originally. I should do my own brand of research.

And I decided not to start with childhood. I wanted to see what was out there for a person with AS as an adult.

What I found has had me reeling in a maelstrom of emotion. And, that leads me to yet another part of this story.

You see, where Part One actually begins with Luke, there is a predecessor - call it a Part One, circa "somewhere over the last 37 years".

That's how long R and I have been married. You've seen me, in this very blog, gripe and complain about the inadequacies of my life with Himself. It's been my safety valve. Without it, without my friends and internet family, I really think I would have lost my mind.

I have spend almost all these years thinking that I'm the most worthless piece of shit anyone could ever have had for a wife. I have hated myself, I have done everything I can think of to change myself to be a better wife, a better lover, a better whatever I needed to be. I've tried to be an interesting person, I've tried to stay well-read, current and up-to-date. I've strived for perfection and found it lacking. I've looked at the person I was prior to marriage and I've wondered where she went, what was lacking in me that the man I'd chosen to spend my life with, to have children with could not give me time, attention, love and consideration.

And, now I'm afraid I know.

Everything...and I mean EVERYTHING I have read in the past days indicates to me that my spouse has Aspergers Syndrome.

The sad thing about this is, unlike many other potential medical problems, reaching out to the person who needs this diagnosis is difficult. There are many things which will immediately be rejected, including the person who imparts the information. Yet, it's vital for the AS person to know this, in my opinion, because if they want to interact within the world and not become a hermit, they need to know that they are not being pushed away, nor being rejected by any person who cares enough about them to be open and honest and willing to work together for a solution.

As my son said when I discussed this with him, "When you look at the list of symptoms, Dad's name is right at the top, isn't it?" Even as I laughed, I had to agree.

That Himself is an intelligent man, there is absolutely NO question. He also works hard, can keep detailed information in his head on certain things, almost always where math is concerned. Not algebra or geometry, but basic math - things like prices, on items at different grocery stores. He doesn't lose those numbers, in fact, he can't understand why I can't remember things like that. Drives him crazy that I can ask him a dozen times what the price of Oreos might be at the grocery and at WalMart. (Yes, there are some important things one should remember about the price of Oreos!)

But, sadly for anyone who finds themself in a relationship with a person with AS, there are more things at stake. I want to talk about those here with honest commentary about how those things have affected me, and ultimately us.

If you don't know what Asperger's Syndrome is, the next three paragraphs will give you a synopsis.

Impaired social reactions are a key component of Asperger's syndrome. People who suffer from this condition find it difficult to develop meaningful relationships with their peers. They struggle to understand the subtleties of communicating through eye contact, body language, or facial expressions and seldom show affection towards others. They are often accused of being disrespectful and rude, since they find they can’t comprehend expectations of appropriate social behavior and are often unable to determine the feelings of those around them. People suffering from Asperger's syndrome can be said to lack both social and emotional reciprocity.

Although Asperger's syndrome is related to autism, people who suffer from this condition do not have other developmental delays. They have normal to above average intelligence and fail to meet the diagnostic criteria for any other pervasive developmental disorder. In fact, people with Asperger's syndrome often show intense focus, highly logical thinking, and exceptional abilities in math or science.

There is no cure for Asperger's syndrome, but cognitive behavioral therapy, specialized speech therapy and counseling can help alleviate many of the condition’s more troubling symptoms. If they learn to develop the appropriate coping mechanisms, people with Asperger's syndrome are quite capable of getting married, having children, becoming gainfully employed, and leading independent lives.

A person who has Aspergers will probably have many of these traits. I'm going to comment in italics how some of these things have affected me or our family.

* Have a very hard time relating to others. It doesn't mean that they avoid social contact. But they lack instincts and skills to help them express their thoughts and feelings and notice others’ feelings.

This is quite true. Himself can be very very social when he wants to be. But, it must be at his discretion and choice. If he chooses not to participate and is forced into something he doesn't like, he will make everyone around him uncomfortable and miserable. It doesn't matter how much a social gathering might mean to family members, be it spouse or grandkids, if the desire to participate isn't there, there is nothing in his understanding to realize the hurt it causes.

* Like fixed routines. Change is hard for them.

A few weeks ago I managed to get him to try another brand of work shoes. He was determined to continue to wear Nike running shoes to work in because that's what he was accustomed to, even though he would readily admit that they bothered his feet. However, the concept of change was so very painful to him it took everything he had to try something new and accept it. Since he's done so, now you'd never know he ever wore Nike's. It's almost like they never existed for him.

* May not recognize verbal and nonverbal cues or understand social norms. For example, they may stare at others, not make eye contact, or not know what personal space means.

While the eye contact thing primarily is noticed in young children, and has been eliminated for the most part as a coping mechanism in adults with AS, there are many times when he is far more comfortable carrying on a conversation looking straight ahead, or at least not at me or others. But, that does vary situation to situation, I'm glad to say.

* May have speech that’s flat and hard to understand because it lacks tone, pitch, and accent. Or they may have a formal style of speaking that’s advanced for their age.

This may be true for children. I've never noticed this in Luke,and of course, I didn't know Himself as a child.

* May lack coordination; have unusual facial expressions, body postures, and gestures; or be somewhat clumsy.

This fits. Himself constantly drops things at home. He can't eat without spilling food down his front. It's a constant source of anger at himself for being clumsy and klutzy.

* May have poor handwriting or have trouble with other motor skills, such as riding a bike.

Adulthood has compensations. While he doesn't go out of his way to try new things, he can do all the basics, like throw a baseball or football, ride a bike, etc., but if he has to handle too many tasks at once, he becomes uncoordinated and clumsy, thus leading to the anger with himself for being so.

* May have only one or a few interests, or they may focus intensely on a few things. For instance, they may show an unusual interest in snakes or star names or may draw very detailed pictures.

Can you say sports and political shows? General TV watching? Constant need to information, as long as it can be gotten without social interaction?

* May be bothered by loud noises, lights, or strong tastes or textures.

Very true. He even gets angry with me if I eat potato chips. It's too loud. And, if I'm drinking bottled water and I suck the plastic in such a way that it makes noise and collapses till I take my mouth off? I'm gonna really get yelled at!

While I realize that what I've written about here is only a drop in the bucket, there is also the lack of empathy; the biggest example I can give is his refusal to hug me when my mother died. The most recent example is him leaving me laying in the snow while he went to put on shoes. Both of those things would be typical - the non-understanding of the need for a hug, and also the need to put on shoes because conditioning has made his brain wired in such a way that everyone knows that you put on shoes when you go outside. To step outside even when there is a great need is just not permissible.

There ends the saga - for now. I will be adding more to it as time goes by. I hope for more understanding as I read and learn. I'll be sure to pass information along for anyone who might have need of it in their lives, too.

Thanks for reading!

Kate

Quick Updates

2010-02-20T07:32:00.002-06:00

for the interested, that is...

I've got a serious post floating around in my head that will, I hope, be informative, apologetic, and even cleansing in a strange sort of way. I'm taking my time with it, so it probably will not be seen for several more hours, possibly even longer. But, now that it's been discovered, it needs said.

With that being said, today is one of those "hit, run, and probably miss" sort of days.

I've got to get my baby Jeep, "Claire Skye" in for an oil change. She's overdue..probably along the gestational time frame of an elephant, instead of where she should be. Hey, it was cold and I was busy and somehow just didn't want to haul my ass out of bed on a Saturday morning to get it done. What can I say? BAD Kate! BAD Jeep mommy!

I've been trying to get back on track with more of the clutter release of going through remaining boxes, etc., since I "sprained my ass" as my massage therapist put it last night. I'm tired of my paper obsession, and I want to come into my office and get back to serious writing, and I'm sick of Himself and I finding it too easy to put things on the kitchen table instead of dealing with the items in question. We eat in front of the TV far too much and as my future post will comment, too much TV is not a good thing!

I'm going to go out tonight with friends, do a little laughing and partying, probably ending up at some 24 hour restaurant and see if we can get kicked out by a different shift. Wait...come to think of it, that's already almost happened with this bunch too! Is it possible that *I'M* the instigator? NAAAAHHHHHH!!!! Couldn't be me, could it?

But, before any of that can happen, I must get on with the mundane areas of life. First stop, shower!!!!

Slainte!

Kate

Happy Valentine's Day!

2010-02-14T21:07:00.003-06:00

I hope everyone who reads this blog had a good V-day. Please know that you are loved!

I am one tired girl tonight.

Once a month I help a girlfriend of mine at a dance. Maybe help is too strong a word...I simply go along, help set up the dj equipment, maybe load up a song or two on the computer for requests, but, in short, I spend much of the time goofing off, dancing, chatting,did I mention dancing?...and pretend I'm still young enough to burn the midnight oil and stay out (or up) all night.

The people with me do not drink, so when I say staggered in, I mean that quite literally - so tired I stumble my way into the house!

Usually bedtime at this event is somewhere around 3 a.m. We usually have a motel suite to crash in for this, but last night it was decided to go ahead and head back home, a trip of about an hour. I got home about 0545 and walked into the sound of R's alarm going off for work.

So, I haven't been to bed yet. I did get a couple of 20 minute naps in today, but I just began my day when I walked in by feeding the hounds, grabbing some breakfast, then dragging Hannah downstairs to begin grooming her. Poor girl was on the table for about an hour and a half. I've still got a few hours of grooming left to do on her, but she'll look good when I'm done!

This afternoon, I had a committee meeting for LammasFest. Yep, it's that time of year again - planning our eighth year! We have two new committee members who joined us this year. I'm glad of it! They both will be wonderful additions to the group!

Tomorrow I'm taking one of the required "furlough" days that are mandatory before July 1. I'm going to head for bed very soon, then sleep till I wake up. Gonna meet up with a friend of mine for lunch.

Then, of course, I've got to fit everything else in around that!

And back to work on Tuesday! Hope everyone has a great week!

Slainte!

Kate

Another New Blog on my Sidebar

2010-02-14T20:39:00.004-06:00

I've got yet another new blogger to add to my sidebar of important blogs.

This came by way of my dear-friend-in-real-life, Steve, who went and moved back to another state. (Miss you, Steve!)

Anyway, Steve's friend, Cougina is beginning a bicycle journey and it will be wonderful to follow his travels. If he gets close enough for me to meet him, I *am* going to take advantage of that opportunity!

Check out his blog An Old Man's Journey and cheer him on!

Tales (Tails) of the Cement

2010-02-10T15:30:00.004-06:00

sitting gingerly

Anyone who reads Facebook has already seen the status report, but I figured a bit more information might be in order. Or not...but I'm writing it anyway!

We've been trying to clean the clutter out of our basement. It's 30+ years of accumulated "stuff". Things we haven't even looked at for years, things I brought from my mother's apartment when she passed away, things the kids have left here, even though they've moved away. And, of course, there's the stuff we've simply brought in, put down and thought we'd do some organizing with it later.

In short, perfectionist packratting. Yes, I said perfectionist. You see, I've learned that a perfectionist is a person who not only wants to get things right, but is also a person who, when they think they don't have time to do things right, will simply set things down, waiting for that mythical day when they think they can pull things together in harmony with some idiotic dream their brain has cooked up.

And chaos ensues.

I've had enough. I've realized that I long for the days when we were early marrieds, able to move easily in 72 hours, even across the country because we didn't have accumulated clutter. So, the clearing began.

We rented a "roll off", one of those bins that are used on construction sites to put junk in. It's been in our driveway since December. I thought it would be a ten day project, but I found that there are some things about my spouse I knew nothing about.

One...he can't work independently on something like that.
Two...He gets mad if I work on things independently without him
Three...We can talk about clearing a room three days in advance, but if there happens to be some sport event on TV that he didn't know about, that takes precedence over putting our house in shape. IRRITATING!

So, since I'm paying for the thing, my patience wore out. I started pitching things right and left and letting him fuss.

To my way of thinking we finished up on Sunday. I commented that I'd call for pick up on Monday.

Of course, then we ended up in the ER with his arm/shoulder problem which he thought might be his heart, so that delayed things.

Yesterday I got ready to call. He had a temper tantrum over ONE thing in a closet. He told me I could not call until that one thing got thrown away. Well, that's easy enough, even though it was pretty silly. The item he was having such a fit about was a "training video" case, which held VHS tapes from a company I worked with years ago. It was something that easily could go in the regular weekly trash. But did that fit logically for him? Nope.

So, anyway, I rolled my eyes, pulled the thing out of the closet along with a couple of bags of old craft supplies and stepped outside the door to pitch them in the dumpster.

In a split second, my feet slipped out from under me, literally flew out and higher than my head and I landed flat on my back on the cement step, cracking my tailbone on the edge of the step. As soon as I started falling, I started screaming for help.

I hit the ground, still screaming. He's inside yelling at me, wondering what I'm screaming about. Eventually, when I didn't answer, he got out of his chair, came to dhe door and found me flat on my back in two inches of snow.

"Are you hurt?" he asked.

"Yes, I'm hurt!" I gasped in pain.

"What do you want me to do?"

"Help me?!!!!!"

"Okay, just a minute...I've got to go put on some shoes."

And he left me in the snow.

Several minutes later, I still have no feeling in my back, I have extreme pain in my lumbar region, and I realize that I'm either paralyzed, which pisses me off because it would really fuck up my weekend plans, or I'm gonna have to try to move on my own or call 911, which wasn't going to happen because I didn't have my cell phone in my pocket.

So, by the time he got back I'd somehow managed to roll to the least painful side and curl into a fetal position. He got out there and tried to figure out what to do.

I had to keep telling him he could not use his own damaged arm. Somehow I got myself into the house. Not quite sure how that happened yet, but I did. By that time I was crying pretty hard because each step (baby steps) was agony. Eventually, I was able to get him to help me get out of my clothes and assess the damage. A bruise on my coccyx, a bruise on my upper thigh and a contusion on my lower leg.

The next few hours were mainly trying to find any sort of comfortable position to be in. There wasn't any. Couldn't sit, couldn't stand for long, getting to a laying position was next to impossible and when I did, getting up was worse.

Then there was that whole peeing thing. "nuff said.

One of my friends called me every hour, begging me to go to a "real" doctor instead of waiting to go to the chiropractor today. Finally said he was not going to go to bed till I went to the ER, and if R didn't want to take me he was gonna drive a half hour to do so.

My girlfriend threatened me with the dirty needle she'd vaccinated her horse with earlier in the day.

So, between those two and a couple of other people, I capitulated and went to the ER.

Dx: no broken bones, just bruised up and sore. An Rx: for Vicodin, which I won't fill. A work excuse. And finally, falling into bed and finding somewhat of a comfortable position to sleep in.

Spring can't come soon enough.

Welcome...

2010-02-08T09:48:00.002-06:00

to a new blog on my sidebar!

This blog belongs to my dear friend Deveri. I've known her for quite a few years now, but only recently have we began to spend more time together with our interests in fiber arts, animals, and actually - life and its intricacies within the human psyche are an endless source of fascination for us.

And, it's not often that you can find a couple of women past their twenty-somethings almost get kicked out of a restaurant because something that has been said has them writhing and hysterical with laughter, tears streaming down their faces and coffee being snorted out their nose!

Dev works with horses - rescues, fosters, and trains them, in fact. Maybe she'll reteach me to ride one of these days!

In short, it's an honor to have her as one of my dearest friends. If you can, check out her blog at Gypsy in the Castle. It's definitely worth your time!

News From the Nursery Lab - 2010-3

2010-01-31T12:28:00.002-06:00

It's been an interesting week in the NICU.

One of the Lab Techs has accepted a promotion of sorts to move to an LTII position in the Blood Bank. I wish her all the best, but I'm afraid it won't be a good fit for her. English is her second language and she's consistently refused to answer phones in our lab because of it - it will be part of her job in BB as well and believe me, the supervisors there are not particularly nice.

While I understand why she's doing it...more money for one thing, I don't think she looked into the big picture of it all.

The oddest part of her promotion was from my supervisor. He was shocked that she wanted to give up her line and leave our department. One of the other folks said, "It pays a lot more..." and my boss DID NOT GET IT!

Shoot, I've got every qualification for a promotion and inform them I want it at my evaluations and they just say no...it's no wonder people start looking at the job lines again! Duh!

We have a Warrior baby that I need to tell you about. I will ask for your thoughts and prayers for him - not for healing, but for "best outcome", whatever that may be for this child.

He came to us as a transport from another hospital. There was a problem that required some surgery. At the former hospital it was done. Sad to say, the bowel was nicked twice during the procedure and it appears there has been enough damage that it's unknown how much of the intestine is surviving.

While that in itself is major enough, there's more. WB has had a Grade 3 and a Grade 4 brain bleed. With those bleeds, chances are immense that he will have little or no brain function to have any sort of normal life.

We've watched him rally time and again. It's at the point where one nurse is assigned only to him and no others. They usually sit at bedside with him throughout the shift. Yet he keeps on, of course, with the help of machines. There's *just* enough hope.

But, he's scheduled for surgery later this week. The docs are going to explore his digestive system to see how much bowel is surviving. If there is enough, they will continue to wage the battle to save him. If not...the parents have already made the decision and have signed the DNR order.

So, you see the reason I ask for your prayers for "best outcome". It's in the hands of a much higher power than we mortals. So mote it be.

News From the Nursery Lab - 2010-2

2010-01-22T08:28:00.002-06:00

job hazard - for me

I'm on my third day off work. Believe me, it was most unexpected.

Now I've got something new I have to watch out for. An unexpected job hazard for me.

I've talked before about having rheumatoid arthritis in my thoracic vertebrae, knees and elbows. I'm tremendously grateful that I don't have it in my hands as I work with them so much.

Periods of damp, wintery or rainy weather can set off a flare-up. Right now we're on something like ten days without seeing sunshine and for some reason, that jolt of brightness and Vitamin D seems to keep a flare-up at bay.

I worked Monday a half shift because of MLK day, then my usual shift on Tuesday. I was in NICU that shift, and went to pick up an art line draw. The baby was having an EEG done; the tech was spraying some sort of glue on the leads to make them stick to baby so the test could be done. I was in the room for approximately five minutes waiting for the sample to be drawn.

When I got back to the lab I had a headache, severe pain on each side of my nose, just by the eye sockets. The headache ebbed and flowed throughout the rest of the shift and I could not rid myself of the scent of the glue.

At bedtime I still had the headache. Drugs hadn't touched the pain. I went to bed way early for me...like 7:30 p.m....and woke up around midnight with my back feeling as though red hot pokers were shoved down alongside my spinal cord. I managed to call in to work, then laid in bed as still as possible for the rest of the night.

By morning I couldn't lay that flat any longer. I made my way to the kitchen and you don't want to know how many ibuprofen I swallowed. Suffice it to say I'd have bled to death had I cut myself.

I couldn't make it to work yesterday, either. I called the doc, then made a chiropractor's appointment, knowing at least if my back wasn't "out", he could use ultra-stim and get those erector muscles to relax somewhat. And, I made a massage appointment, too. I couldn't do many more hours like that. I have an extremely high pain threshold, so when I'm hurting, it's far more than the average person can tolerate.

When the doc was taking my history, I told him about the EEG incident. He stopped, looked at me, and said, "You were having a flare-up based on an allergic reaction."

Seems that the glue smell getting into my olfactory nerves started a chain reaction. People with compromised immune systems can be very sensitive to certain things, as of course, anyone else can as well. But auto-immune folks tend to end up with a flare-up instead of breaking out in hives, or getting sick to their stomachs or the like. And, until the body flushes that away from the nervous system, you're pretty much sunk.

So, I end up with a vacation of sorts. Not the kind I have in mind, though. I'd much prefer something with sunshine and a warm beach. But, the treatment and the massage did help, and I'm in far less pain today. With hope, all will be well again on Monday!

Yodeling

2010-01-22T08:09:00.002-06:00

Usually I'm not around in the mornings to see or help with the dogs' morning routine. On my days off, my spouse keeps his usual routine and gets them fed, watered, and pottied and lets me sleep in as my work wake up time is 0300, and sleeping a few more hours is a big treat.

But, today, there was no way I could have slept in. True enough, I was doing a fairly good job of it until I heard "OH NOOOOO! HANNAH!!!!" My eyes snapped open.

Then I heard it...the yodeling of a standard poodle in hunt mode. She's spotted a rabbit in the back yard and she was on the move!!! Phoebe went to the edge of the porch and just stopped, not even trying to get into the act.

I could hear Robert moaning in between calls to try to get Hannah's attention. Well...that's not gonna happen till she's either caught the rabbit or the rabbit gets away.

I began to roll out of bed, then decided it wouldn't do any good anyway. I've seen that dog hunt rabbit before, even gotten bitten as a result of trying to separate Phoebe and Hannah from the last unfortunate.

Robert had never seen Hannah in full hunt mode before. Suddenly the yodeling stopped. It was silent in the yard, much to the relief of all the neighbors, I'm sure, who could not have been amused at hunting dogs at 0545!

"What do I do?" he asked.

"Nothing...you just let her have it," I replied. And then I rolled out of bed.

I pulled my boots out of the closet and headed for the kitchen door. In the meantime, he'd gotten Phoebe and Yama back inside.

Hannah was down at the far end of the yard, snuffling her kill.

I pulled my coat on over my jammies and carefully slid my way across the icy yard. She headed back toward the deck and inside. I went back for the rabbit.

Gods, I hate picking them up when they're still warm! I hate picking them up when they're cold, too, but when they're warm they're just so recently dead you know?

Rabbit disposal finished, and I was back in the house with a nosy poodle who kept checking me out to see what I'd done with her bunny.

Gallows humor abounds - I keep hearing Elmer Fudd singing "Kill da wabbit...kill da wabbit..."

News From the Nursery Lab - 2010-1

2010-01-20T20:05:00.004-06:00

Welcome to the first edition of Nursery Lab 2010.

There are dozens of stories I wish I *could* tell you about, and one in particular, but at this time, it's just not to be. Perhaps, in time, I'll be able to share those things, but just not now.

There've been wonderful things happen in the NICU, and of course, and thankfully to a far smaller degree, there've been tragedies.

One of the joys came with a price we were sure would NOT bring happiness. Those of you who are older may remember the horrific births that occurred in the 50's when women were given a drug called thalidomide to combat morning sickness. The drug caused severe birth defects in babies. Many were born with limbs missing, for example. When the connection was made, the commonplace use of thalidomide was discontinued.

Before the little girl was brought to NICU, we heard whispers of problems in Labor and Delivery. When lab was notified to come draw, we were told to be prepared - for what, we weren't told. When I arrived, the nurse pulled me aside and told me that the little girl was born without one arm, and only had a partial arm on the other side. She didn't want me to gasp, or cry out or act shocked in front of the family who was in there.

I have to admit I was somewhat miffed at the assumption. I am, after all, a professional. I might cry, but I'll save it for later.

I went in, drew the baby. She was absolutely gorgeous. Her grandmother stood at the bedside, across from me, and simply beamed at the little beauty in the warmer bed. Auntie stood at the foot of the bed, beaming every bit as much.

I did my draws, congratulating them on this beautiful child, and listened to the conversation. These two women were absolutely fantastic in their forthrightness about the child's infirmities. By the time I left that room, I had no doubt whatsoever that this child would be loved and cherished, be given the ability to reach for the her own personal stars. This was reinforced on her second day of life when I went to the Mother-Baby unit to get the child's newborn screen.

There I saw something I'd not seen in my years on that unit. Upon entering the room, I saw the plastic "crib", which normally sits in a wooden frame, in the bed with the mother of the baby. Because Mom had had a c-section, she was still laying pretty flat. In order to reach her baby, she had the crib placed next to her so she could reach the child. She told me that it was easier to scoop the baby to her that way, since there was no way to pick the baby with her lack of arms. It was innovative on her part, and yet the child was safe from being crushed by a co-sleeping arrangement. Again, the love, the determination that this baby would be given the opportunity to live her life fully was more than evident. It was incredible to see, and I felt blessed to have witnessed it, even more so because many of the parents I see in our teaching hospital are of the type in which I weep for the child. Not so this one. She'll be amazing with female role models such as she has!

We lost a little guy just a few weeks ago, a death that was agonizing to me as it was so long in coming. The baby was a gastroschisis baby - in other words, he was born with his intestines outside his body. When this happens, depending on the severity, surgery to correct could happen almost immediately, or in some time after the baby has grown enough to allow the intestines to have space within the abdominal wall. Sometimes more than one surgery has to be done.

In this case, more than one surgery was needed. And, even more sadly, other things went completely wrong with the recovery. There were not enough drugs in the world to combat what was going on in this little guy's body. Yet, he hung on...we almost lost him once; the parents were in the room, the docs explained everything to them and what to expect and awaited their decision. He was so bloated that the in-dwelling lines were compromised for lab draws, and we had to do heelsticks and draw several waste tubes in order to get a draw to result normally. The parents made the decision to let the child pass away.

But, somehow, he did not. He rallied. Efforts to get him to survive were done with intensity. He'd have several good days, then some bad days and the cycle would repeat. But, he slowly began to fade again. Tensions ran high. And snapped.

We came to work one day and found that security had been called the previous shift. In bits and pieces we got the story. Dad and Mom were both quite young - around the age of 20 or so. Dad was, intellectually, quite smart, but the common sense gene was non-existent. Mom was a drama queen of the highest caliber. Her drama translated into neediness. His lack of common sense made him arrogant to the staff and he treated the nurses as his servants. When they were on the unit, it was not a particulary nice place to be.

And, as I said, the day came when security was called. The parents were staying at the hospital's in-house "inn". And Dad decided that enough of whatever was happening was enough. He took a swing at the mother. She called the NICU, who told her to haul ass up to the unit for safety. Security was called to keep the two of them separated.

There's no way I'd want to cross 8 or more nurses on a NICU unit who thought either a parent or one of their babies was in danger. Uh-uh...

Dad was banned from the complete hospital campus with the only caveat for his entry to be if the child was dying, and only then could he be there with security in tow.
About ten days later the boy left his place on earth. He did so without fanfare, just slipped quietly away. Another angel gets his wings...he fought the good fight.

And, to end this on a more happy note, I wrote about a baby in the NICU back in 2007. She was referred to as our "ice storm baby".

Over the Christmas holidays I saw a picture of her. She's around two years old, is perfectly normal and is as cute as can be. She's a beautiful girl and I'm proud to have been involved with her care while she was in NICU.

My next blog about the NICU will most likely be more on the critical care end of things. But that will be written another time.

All the best to you, dear readers!

Slainte!

How to Break a Cell Phone

2010-01-17T11:07:00.005-06:00

throw it under the deck

One of the things I absolutely hate about cell phone plans is their utter lack of understanding when one's cell phone takes a dive. Of course, I understand this because I'm sure there are people who would exchange their cell phones every single time there was something to upgrade to. And cell companies are in the business to make money, after all!

But, as I usually do, I digress from the focus of the story.

My cell phone got damaged this summer due to a wardrobe and body malfunction.

The story began on a very hot and humid July day. If you've never experienced Iowa or other parts of the Midwest in July, you've never experienced Florida in the summer or the total misery of living without air conditioning in a sauna-like environment.

It was gorgeous that day. The sun was shining brightly, the sky was as blue as could be. The grass had not yet begun to sizzle and get to that crispy, pre-brown stage of August. The clouds in the sky varied from cirrus whisps, to small, cumulonimbus cotton balls. But, the temperature was in the upper 90's.

It seems you can begin processing the state of the weather around 4 p.m. It's a defining time frame of what might develop. Suddenly the air becomes oppressive, it seems as though you should just grab a knife, cut a chunk of air and chew it in order to breathe. If you've gone through this a time or two, actually leave your house and go outside, and don't trust everything you see on the weather channel, you can determine what might happen.

That day was no exception. Suddenly the air was oppressive. The dogs, who normally wanted to play around in the yard were looking for shady places to stay cool. It got to the point that we were almost praying for a storm to relieve the thick oppression.

It wasn't long before reports of potential severe weather began popping up on the local TV stations. They were several hours to the west of us, but - this is Iowa. Thunderstorms have a very brief gestation time, and once they begin popping up, they become contagious rapidly.

We were soon under a tornado watch. That means conditions are "right" for the development of tornadic activity.

As dusk approached - actually, not dusk at all, simply clouds rolling in - it became apparent storms were in the area. What would happen was anyone's guess.

Without warning, the tornado siren began wailing. We looked at each other, baffled, because the sun was still brightly shining, even though we could see clouds rolling in from the west. We checked our local station, and sure enough, programming was interrupted to bring the latest news.

Tornado on the ground about 12 miles southwest of our house. YIKES! That's WAY too close, especially when it comes with literally no warning lead time.

My MOS for tornado season is to have kennels set up in the basement for the hounds and the cat, leashes ready on the table to hook them to in case of panic. If I've been barefoot or in sandals earlier, I switch to tennis shoes. I grab my checkbook and credit cards, my cameras, my laptop, photos and whatever cash I might have in the house. And, of course, the cell phone.

This tornado dropped so quickly, we'd not had time to do all the incidental things, such as eat dinner (it was still in the oven), potty ourselves and the dogs.

It was so humid and miserable that day that minimal clothing was the attire. I had on loose workout shorts, a tank top, bra and panties. No pockets.

I stuffed my cell phone in my bra. Then we shooed the dogs out the door to go potty before heading down to the basement.

They did what nature intended them to do, and we called them inside. But, it was the time we generally take to play with them in the yard, and they were giving us clear indication that it wasn't time to come back inside, but time to play!

I headed down the steps to begin herding them to the door.

The sky is almost totally black by this time, and huge drops of rain are splatting. It's gonna get ugly. The Shelties finally scrambled up the steps and into the house. Robert is standing in the doorway, waving his arms. I'm down on ground level herding them toward the door.

The poodle gets spooked by the unusual activity. She bounds off the deck, and runs to the back of the yard, I'm in pursuit. She thinks I'm playing and gets a silly Poodle grin on her face, as if to say, "Yeah, Mom!!! let's play!!!!"

I chase her back onto the deck. Robert is still waving his arms. She spooks, tries to head back down the steps. I'm in a football lineup crouch to head her off.
And, just as the giant water drops turn from big splats of moisture to full-fledged downpour, my cell phone decided my body position, my sweat, and my lack of bosom made it the perfect time for escape.

The stupid phone ricochetted out of my bra, between the steps, and into the murky depths of the land under the deck.

It was pitch black out, rain is pounding. I'm soaked completely, hair dripping waterfalls into my face, clothes so wet you'd think I'd been in the Dead Sea. The rain is so horrific you literally cannot hear anything but a dull roar, and the question was if it was rain or a tornado?

And, I cannot see my f***ing phone. I had a brief wish that somehow someone would call right then so the thing would light up. Did that happen? NOOOO!

Instead, I had to run inside, grab a flashlight. No luck - still didn't see it. I yelled to Robert to call my cell phone from inside before the power went off. He looked at me like I had lost my mind. "I don't know your cell phone number!"

I ended up running inside, grabbing the portable phone, bringing it outside and calling my cell while I shinnied under the deck. As soon as it began ringing, I spotted it. It had flown back underneath about eight feet, way farther than I would have ever thought! I grabbed it, slithered back out from under the deck and ran downstairs.

The back had broken off the thing, but I worked with it and got it to stay on, finally. It never worked right after that. Finally gave up working a couple of months ago and I had to replace with 11 months left in my contract.

At least I have a few months left before I have to figure out alternatives for cell phone pockets. Or at least, better placement in my bra!

Weekend!

2010-01-16T08:38:00.002-06:00

I do love days off...it's that sleeping in till I wake up without the help of the alarm clock that makes it so wonderful! Even so, I tend to wake up around 6 a.m. as that is 3 hours later than my usual wake time.

Plans for the weekend are somewhat minimal. A hot shower beckons in a few minutes, than a quick straighten of the house. We're going to make a quick trip over to the outlet mall to get some decent work shoes for hubby. I've been trying to convince him for months that a pair of MBT's would be ideal for his work situation, but at $200/pair, that made him very resistant to the idea. I DO understand this! I bought my first MBT "style" from the AVON catalog - Curves marketed a shoe and for $39.99, it was worth the try before laying out big bucks.

Now Sketchers has come out with their version at roughly half the price of MBT's and that's what we're going to go check out. Few places are carrying the men's styles, but the outlet mall is supposed to have them. I think R will notice an immediate improvement. I certainly did! My core ached for the first three days and at the same time, all my leg pain stopped. That alone made it worth it!

He wants to spend some time looking at televisions as well. That part of the trip I'm just not anxious for. I'd just like it as well if he'd go do that part by himself. I think I'll suggest he drop me off at home so I can continue to get things accomplished. Poor Hannah looks like she's joined the Rastafarians, and even though I think she's cute as can be, it's time to get her combed out and groomed. I need to take pictures of her before Valentine's day for a joke gift for one of my guy friends. He calls me a few times a week to inquire about "The Poodle". I always tell him his "girlfriend" is fine. I've also threatened to give him a picture of her, framed beautifully, to put on his nightstand so he can see his "girlfriend" every night before he goes to sleep. He is such a hoot about "The Poodle"

Tonight I'm going to meet up with my girlfriend Dena. We've gotten into the terrible habit of staying out way too late, so I have learned it's a good idea to go out with her on days I can sleep in the next day! Don't know what we're going to do, yet - might be nothing more than watching a DVD, but it will be nice to so a little socializing!

Anyway, time to get away from the computer for awhile and start my tasks!

Hope y'all have a great day!

Slainte!

Back in the Classroom Again...

2010-01-13T20:02:00.002-06:00

It would take too long to explain some of the things that happened during my last teaching assignment - at least more time than I have tonight to write.

Let's just say that I had some doubts about getting the assignment I wanted thanks to some shenanigans that occurred. But, I did express my concerns to the coordinator, and she seems to think it important to look out for my interests, so she gave me my choice of assignments.

I'll be teaching during the fall semester; it's a good one to have here in the Midwest. The didactic portion of class will be finished before Thanksgiving, and the students should finish up the clinical portion of their classes in good time. Plus, the weather generally hasn't begun to get rough for driving to and from class.

I may have a co-instructor for the class, too. If I do, it will definitely be to the advantage of the class. I'll talk to the coordinator about that next week.

The nice thing, though, is that it's only one semester of teaching instead of three like I did last year. And that is good. I'll still be teaching the nursing boot camps throughout the year, and another area college wants some phlebotomy training as well, so there are definite opportunities abounding!

Definitely going to have to make sure I schedule some vacation time though, and not just days off, but real, honest-to-goodness "away" time.

I'm sure I'll need the break!

One-Eyed Wonder

2010-01-12T09:43:00.002-06:00

That's ME!

Home today with what appears to be a blocked tear duct. Woke up this morning with my eye glued shut; last night it was swollen and ached like a corneal abrasion. It's not conjuctivitis, though, and the tear duct is obviously swollen. I'm already on antibiotics for something else, so heath-wise I'm just waiting for my eye to return to a more normal appearance.

So, the day is being filled with email and phone calls and doing a bunch of stuff around the house - I'm making clutter *disappear* and loving it! Time to get back to a simpler, more peaceful existance. Once spring arrives I don't want to be chained to the house! I've got PLANS. They may be done alone, but you know what? That's OK!

Now, back to eliminating the unneeded excess, and 30 minutes on the treadmill.

Slainte!

Importance of Small Treasures

2010-01-10T18:04:00.005-06:00

or, another difference between manspeak and womanspeak

As I was out doing errands on Friday night, I felt the odd sensation of something slithering down my neck.

Since it was well below zero with wind chill, I knew the odds of it being a bug were pretty much slim and none. With a gulp and a sinking feeling, I snatched at my neck with a flash of what it must be. I was right - my necklace had broken.

But this was no ordinary necklace. You see, it had only been in my possession for less than a week. It was a gift from one of my guy friends, one who is incredibly observant about anything that goes along with a female whether or not he's "involved" with them.

So, in the bottom of my Christmas gift bag, I found a tiny, square box.

What made this bit of jewelry important was threefold: First of all, I love nice jewelry...stuff that doesn't make my skin turn green!!! Secondly, my spouse has apparently forgotten that it's nice to be remembered on birthdays and other special occasions and I was feeling saddened since I've apparently outlived the gifting phenomenon. As my gift to him, I chose to give him a plasma television - he wouldn't pick one out before Christmas so I could buy it for him, but the promise of it is there.

Third - my friend noticed that I no longer wore a particular piece of jewelry which I'd been wearing for ten years. He asked me about it. I clenched my jaw and explained the situation. And kept from weeping in the process. His keen observation of the missing item was primarily due to his noticing in the past that I constantly touched the former piece of jewelry; it was my way to touch someone - the giver - who lived far away from me. It had originally placed around my neck by his hands, and matched the one he wore. My romantic side felt that it was a symbolic gesture of our hearts touching even though we were miles apart. I'm sure any of you males who are reading this are rolling your eyes and muttering, "Oh brother...". Too bad. Deal with it!

You see, I think most of us in the female persuasion consider jewelry one of the most important items that can be given. Perhaps it's due to past life experiences as a female in which our only wealth in many cultures might have been the gold coins or jewelry that were given to us. Heaven knows we weren't allowed to own property, but were instead considered property!

We don't always "read" things into such a gift, turning them into romance or riches. Sometimes jewelry is just that - a gift with no intention behind it other than care and concern. I'd venture to guess, too, that the symbolism of the gift was unknown.

But, the selection of this tiny piece of gold was absolutely appropriate to the circumstances.

The tiny pendant is a butterfly, fragile and exquisite. Yet,in reality, a butterfly can migrate for hundreds of miles in its quest to survive. The pendant is embedded with citrine, a stone which is considered my birthstone, but is also a stone considered to repel negativity. And, as I showed this gift to a co-worker, she muttered something about "butterflies and tsunamis". I didn't know what she was talking about, so I looked it up. The phrase came from a comment about something known as the Butterfly Theory:

It is said that even the smallest step one takes in his/her life can change the course of said life immensely. The name of this theory came to be when a meteorologist, whose name was Lorenz spoke about the Chaos Theory. Ultimately, what he said was paraphrased into "It has been said that something as small as the flutter of a butterfly's wing can ultimately cause a typhoon halfway around the world."

And so, the gift becomes a symbol of what the past brought forth, and the promise and hope of changes yet to come. The broken chain has been temporarily replaced and I'll continue to wear it proudly. But, now, as I touch it, the symbolism will be those of what was, what is, and what will be.

2010 - The Next Decade

2010-01-09T17:07:00.003-06:00

Pretty darn sure I'll be talking to an empty room here - it's been so very long since I had any interest in blogging. Facebook sort of crept in there and took over; of course, my life in general did even more damage to my blogging! I don't know why I allowed myself to trot down the path of insane schedules and trying to make a success of myself. But, I did...and many times I wonder for what purpose?

Now the pages of Time have turned to yet another new year. I hope that I'll be able to maintain a bit of rationality as the months proceed. My Anam Cara is back from Iraq, and that has helped so much - I hope I never take him for granted the way I did before his time away. He fretted about me, I about him, and we were both stupid enough to not talk about it...and this from two people who KNOW how vital communication is!!!

While I smugly (not really) watched other people go through horrendous things in 2009, I considered myself lucky to be avoiding such things. The Gods got me for that. The Love of my life made a change in his life that didn't include me. It devastated me to the point of considering suicide; each day was a struggle to go on. What made it even rougher is that he never communicated the changes he was making; instead, he simply threw me away, and rejoined someone he had loved in the past. But, I had ten wonderful years with him and he will be in my heart forever. I do hope in time he will find it in his heart to talk to me. Maybe it's true that one can never go back, but I don't think so. I thought our friendship alone would stand the test of time.

My life continues on a day-to-day basis. My sense of responsibility to everyone kept me from offing myself, and now is the primary reason I haul my ass out of bed every day.

My job at BHTS and my NICU babies still intrigues me; I love working with the wee Warriors. The bullshit that has become the standard of practice for hospitals drives me insane. At BHTS we're heavy in highly paid management, and many times those of us who actually do the work have to explain ad nauseum to the highly paid how to do their jobs correctly. It scares me, quite honestly. We've become a nation of covering our asses with paperwork, much of it designed simply to make upper management look more efficient and in some cases actually makes our job far more difficult. Better that they would begin emphasizing the things that *would* help. But...those suggestions fall on deaf management ears.

My community college experience is still continuing, but in a different area at this point in time. Right now I'm involved with a program which is a "boot camp" for nurses returning to practice after a few years. We do weekend intensives in which the nurses are given refresher courses in how to start IV's, basic phlebotomy, hands-on case studies in the simulation center, ER work, and many other aspects. I've had a blast with that; I've liked being able to lecture and not have to dumb down things. Okay, so I lied. I do have to dumb down some things, and usually when those questions get asked, I get a little antsy about the state of health care. At the last session, I was observing the reanactment of a scenario and was pointing out obvious things the nurses were overlooking in their assessments of the patients. And, believe me, I say that with all sincerity! It scared me, because the things they were missing were things that any non-medical person would pick up on!

The events of the last few months have made it almost impossible for me to concentrate on any writing; one of my co-workers has been totally pissed about that. She's just had her first book accepted by an editor for consideration and she thinks I should haul some ass and get one of my projects finished. I tease her and tell her we should go on a book tour together.

Speaking of books and writing, I was approached by someone to do a serious book on an alternative lifestyle. I've done some research to see if I think it might be viable, and preliminarily, I would say it might work. So, I've ordered all the books I can find that have been written in the last 20 years, and have combed a few research articles to begin roughing out the ideas for this. We'll see. I guess I can safely say that if I put myself to it, I can have it close to finished in a year.

Socially, I've been making myself get out and do things. I have met a couple of women at work that I've started doing some things with and that's been fun. I've also made a point to NOT stick around the house and hide in my office while my spouse watches football. I've even gone away for the weekend a time or two. And, he doesn't seem to mind me being gone - in fact, he so doesn't mind me being gone he never even bothers to ask me if I had a good time; it's far more important to him to update me on what's happening with the scores on his sports. I am SO loved - NOT!

Thd kids are doing well. Our 7th grandbaby is due in early April. I am so in hopes that this delivery will be all the things that the last one wasn't for Kirk and Marsha. She is not going to deliver at BHTS, but at one of the other area hospitals. Truth told, I approve that decision most heartily.

So, there you have it. A brief synopsis of Rigel's Wheel in the beginnings of 2010. I pray that this year is joyous for all of us.

Stand by...more will be forthcoming at another time.

Slainte!

Dropping Drama on Its Head

2009-09-21T16:13:00.004-05:00

I've learned something from a friend of mine - a lesson I wish I'd have developed a long time ago, but at a far lesser degree than he's developed it.

The lesson is to reject drama as much as possible. Because he is a very serene person most of the time, I've taken some of his advice and begun to observe just how much drama most of us tend to either live with or absorb from those around us. His theory is that in his line of work, he listens to other people's drama all day long; he gets paid quite well to listen to it during office hours.

But, step out of the office and he's done with drama. In fact, his exact phraseology is "If you can't f*** it or bank it, who needs it?" As he's an extremely wealthy guy, and he certainly seems to get laid often, he might be onto something.

At any rate, I've been so self-absorbed with my own internal pain/drama, that I have really began to notice when drama, in whatever form, enters my life.

I'm finding that I don't care overmuch for either mine, or the drama of others. Now, I'm not talking about refusing to listen to what's going on in my friends' lives - I still want to hear what's going on in their minds and hearts, but what I don't miss is the hysterical ravings of people who are almost out of control. There's a certain note that seems to hit when the drama reaches a certain level. It's partly "whine", it's partly angst, it's partly a demand to be listened to.

Note I said, "demand". It's that, I believe, that gets to me the most. It's that insisting, that get-in-someone's-face attitude that the speaker MUST BE LISTENED TO RIGHT NOW! Nothing is more important than they are!

It comes, I believe, in part, from being surrounded with instant communication all the time. We hear very little on the news that's not some form of drama. Even something with a happy ending has to have a dramatic beginning, or else it's not hyped up. There are no simple pleasures left in life, it seems.

People seem to want a quick fix, an immediate solution. No longer are we allowed the time to self-reflect, to dive into our own introspection. We *want* immediate gratification. Patience, as a virtue, is nearly non-existent.

I wrote on my Facebook today that I was having the sort of day that made me want to sit down and bawl in utter frustration.

I realized that it was due, in part, to dealing with the drama of everyone else today. Perhaps it's the moon phase or something - regardless, the intensity of the drama was amped up to levels that ended up affecting me personally - and THAT I didn't like.

In other words, I somehow was in the receiving line to get shit at and hit, as one of my relatives used to say. And, I don't appreciate that, because, in the words of my friend, I can't F*** it or bank it. Most of it happened after office hours, too!

The "Other" Side of the Desk....

2009-09-19T18:54:00.004-05:00

My life came to a screeching halt On July 29th of this year. Not literally, of course, but for those who know me very, very well, it was no surprise to hear of my utter devastation when the news was given. And, no, I won't go into it here - there are some things that hurt too badly, cut too deep, and will probably never be recovered from.

The wound is so deep this Warrior has not cried; the tears are frozen in timelessness. I have no idea when or what event will make that happen. It will when it will.

The regular beat of my heart, the inhalations and exhalations continue of their own volition as promises I've made not to die at my own hand will be kept. Besides, there are a few people who would eventually meet me on the other side and beat the living hell out of me for doing so and I'm not particularly fond of thinking of future beatings.

So, I've kept quiet, laid low, mourned constantly while keeping "the face" everyone expects me to, for who would begin to think that I'd be anything other than logical and calm in the face of adversity?

Eventually, even desolation can begin to lighten when the right combination of events comes along. Prayer, angry bar-rattling of the Gates of Heaven (or Hell?) eventually comes around to everyone's turn. And, I think sometimes They take pity on the pathetic.

I'd been thinking about going back to school for awhile. As much as I enjoy teaching, and will continue to do so when I can, watching many of my co-workers furthering their education beckoned to me like a moth to flame.

I talked to my community college director in charge of EMS about beginning training, eventually to Paramedic. I talked to Ambulance Driver about how I could be utilized in the medical setting as a Paramedic in the ETC or general hospital setting. Both men were encouraging. Then I made the mistake of looking at starting pay for a Paramedic around here and the wages are...in a word...horrific. I make more money than they do, these brave men and women who actually SAVE lives.

It was back to square one. I was even more saddened, adrift in a pool of misery. I couldn't even write; not even angst-ridden poetry like a teenager. I began curling into a ball in my bed, staring at the wall, sleeping little, eating more and showing it on the scale. I quit talking to my kids and grandkids. My own pathetic company was best and that was enough to make me rethink promises.

Life consisted of three hours of sleep a night, wake up, go to work, drink far too much coffee, eat junk, and do what was necessary to "get by". The census was so low at work I finally packed my knitting and a book in my bag and eventually pulled the book out and read when things were slow.

The book was research for a character I'd been trying to develop for a story. In spite of myself, I became interested in the subject.

A part of it made me dig deep into where I began my journey on the Pagan path. I began stepping from one stepping stone to another, finally remembering my days as a massage therapist.

From that came idle research on the 'Net; nothing in particular, just looking around, checking out various modalities I'd gotten CEU's for in those days, seeing what changes had come about in the field.

And, I found out one of the best Reflexology Schools in the US was less than 30 miles away from me. I didn't know it existed. They've kept a tremendously low profile, purposefully. But, I figured, what good would that do anyway? I have to work, I still have teaching to do in the future. I can't exhaust myself like I did these last few months. I can't push myself like that anymore - give up things important to me for the benefit of others and leave nothing for myself. And, that, too, was depressing. But, I kept returning to the website and looking at the home page. Once, twice, and then again. The magic of threes.

On the third time, I read further - I checked the cost. It wasn't unreasonable. The course was a certification course. It had far more "hours" for certification than any I'd seen before.

But, it still remained that I have to work. But, I figured I might as well know all the news about it as someone might ask someday if I knew about it.

And, I was shocked to find that this school has taken students into consideration for needing to lead a life, make a living. The course is done over five, three day intensive sessions. It takes about 14 months to complete.

So, I took the risk, wrote to the school with questions. Received a prompt return call from the owner/instructor. And after a great deal of thought, and a great deal of encouragement from answered prayers on what to do, I've found my own self back in school for the first intensive.

I walked into the classroom as a student yesterday, cracked open the textbooks and information packets and felt as though...I was home. I was HOME. It's not massage therapy; I cannot do the diagnostic work of my past without getting yet another national certification test under my belt. But, I took my turn in the exchange, and as I placed my hands on my "patient", my heart soared with delight because I was beginning my journey back from what was stolen from me in 1992.

I've enjoyed the last two days of class immensely; Of the nine in our group, my ego is fed on some level because I already *KNOW* this material inside and out. The anatomy instructor is so good I've already told her I'm stealing her methods for my own phlebotomy class next fall. It's a great review for me, and the basic routine is about 25% memorized. Once I have the routine, I can begin finessing it, finding my speed and rhythm. And, after the second intensive in November, I can, even as a student, begin to charge half-price for the work. I've gotten the glimmers of a dream of what kind of a business I want to open when I'm finished with this. Or, if I will be able to stay in hospital work as more hospitals begin to develop integrated care to utilze both holistic and scientific medicine.

So, the work is subtle, the work is about healing. And, it may begin to allow the healer some healing as well.

Kate

News from the former classroom

2009-07-07T16:44:00.004-05:00

I have spent approximately the last fourteen weeks in lesson plan land. I'm still not completely done - there's still a classroom to be dismantled, debriefing to be done after my students finish their clinicals, and plans to be made for the next time I'm insane enough to admit I like to teach and will take on another class.

The up side to this is that, having done the bulk of the work this time, the next time should be easier!

The road to today was a bit rocky, and I often wondered just what in the hell I was thinking to try to take on a class I'd only taught half of; yet, it seemed as though something was compelling me to take the risk to myself and go for it.

I worried because with the economy as it is, plus knowing the stories of the students in my class, they were depending on me to give them the knowledge to take advantage of a new career, should job availability open. Could I deliver what they required of me? I pretty much quit sleeping, averaging 3-4 hours a night, and giving myself permission to sleep till I woke up on days off, if a: my spouse would let me sleep, and b: I would allow myself to not overbook myself on days I could sleep in.

Some days it worked, others it didn't.

I told the coordinator that I only wanted ten students in my class. It was a good number, well within what I could offer them in sites for their clinicals, and an even number would create instant partners, leaving me with arms and hands intact because I wouldn't have to donate MY veins to the cause!

It didn't work out that way, though. The coordinator gave me 13 students. Sure, it's a good magical number for this Pagan, but there it was...my arms became open season once again! Damn!

I found out that I hate using Power Point as a basis for lectures. It's great for studying, in my opinion, but it still doesn't beat reading the textbook and doing homework assignments. So, that will change.

I've also found out that utilizing the style of another instructor is only good in the short term...as in when you're filling in as a substitute! Trying to lecture like my co-instructor did just didn't feel right to me. But, we did okay, the class and I.

I "test hard". I see no reason to mollycoddle a bunch of folks who presumably, are adults trying to find a way to make a career change. One person in particular who reads this blog occasionally knows the angst I went through. And, I'm grateful that he always took the time and had the patience to listen to me. Thanks, Wolfie.

I'll tell a wee tale or two, perhaps, about those weeks in another post. But, I do want to state that the first group of students began their clinicals yesterday.

And every single one of them "stuck" patients their first day. One woman was so stressed during class that she generally puked on class nights. She's gonna be wonderful - as will the others in that group of five who've began contact with needles and blood outside the classroom and lab.

I called the students last night to see how the first shift of real patient care had commenced.

The record...and I believe this has to be an ALL time record...came from the woman who chose one of the two clinical spots at the VA hospital. On her first day she got
ONE HUNDRED TEN SUCCESSFUL STICKS. And...she only had ONE unsuccessful draw.

The VA did something unheard of around here. They handed her an application to fill out for a job opening. She called me after her shift today and told me she had 53 successful draws today. I can't wait to find out what her grand total will be after she's done her 80 hours!

And, I was pleased to learn that her preceptors said that she had a teacher who knew her stuff; and that they had had other students that didn't make the grade. I have mixed feelings about that as I've always taught the lab portion, with help, of course, but this time I did every single thing alone.

I imagine I'll be hearing from the others periodically throughout the next two weeks and then will hear comments from the second group!

I will be tickled if most of them get hired out of their clinicals. I certainly hope so!

More to follow on another post.

PhotoContestPhotoContestPhotoContest`

2009-07-01T20:50:00.002-05:00

The pictures are up over at Stardom Awaits!

This is our monthly contest which is all in good fun, though we take our photos very seriously! The theme this month is "Pets and Wildlife" Wander over to take a look and vote for ONE favorite picture.

Winners will be announced later this month

*ahem*

I just thought you'd like to know I haven't won yet! Just sayin'! You know...just in case you're having trouble deciding whose pics to vote for....;)

Seriously.....

2009-06-26T14:34:00.003-05:00

As the mother of a child whose legal name is James Kirk, I have an affinity for people whose child naming reaches for the stars. But, galaxies far, far away?

We have a baby in room one whose name is...I kid you not... Anakin.

And of course, I cannot resist the temptation to greet him each morning by saying, "How are you, young Skywalker?"

But it gets better. Not only did I have labs to draw on Anakin this morning, but I ended up drawing labs in room two, as well. The child's name?

Luke. No relation; but wouldn't it have been a hoot if they'd been twins?

No, we don't have a Han, Leia, or Obi Wan. But we did decide we've had babies in the NICU who would easily be able to be called Yoda or Chewie.

We've also got a girl child named Layla. So, you know what that means? Yep. I walk around the unit along with many of the others and sing the song made famous by Mr. Clapton himself.

And, it looks as though I may be able to return to the land of Blog before long. I'm NOT going to commit myself to anything else - perhaps someone else will commit me, but I suspect that's a whole other thing.

I'm So Excited...

2009-03-14T16:57:00.003-05:00

No, I'm not singing the Pointer Sisters...quite yet!

Why am I excited?

Because I'm going dancing!

Tonight is a gathering of some of the Iowa Rock and Roll Hall of Fame bands I used to spend hours with, dancing my little heart out.

My band in particular is/was The Do's 'n' Don'ts. They were from my city, in fact, I pretty much grew into adulthood with the band because some lived across the street, I babysat for one of the band member's kids, and worked on the ambulance service with several of 'em too.

Oh, and once in awhile I sang backup with 'em too. Didn't know I could sing, did you? LOL!

Anyway, I'm all dressed up, just like the old days, the body still moves pretty good, but it's heavier than it was in the days when I danced every weekend.

I'm gonna have FUN!!!!

Update - So much for dancing! When we got there, we found a dance floor the size of a postage stamp, and about 200 couples trying to dance on it.

My spouse and I didn't find each other till the show was almost over, but I had a spot next to the speakers, just where I used to like dancing all those years ago. As I stood there weaving to the beat, the organist looked over and waved at me; understand I have not seen the band for at least 25 years! Talked to her after the show for a bit and her husband, the bass player, said, "Hey! It's Kathy!" Now that tickled me, too, after so many years of not seeing them.

My former neighbor, and leader/drummer of the band is still singing, though his drumming days are over. The years have taken their toll and he's pretty much crippled up by all the years of playing. He can still rock out really well, in spite of the pain I'm guessing he's in.

I had fun, even if I didn't dance. And, my one snarky remark is that, upon seeing lots of folks who shared those dance floors with me all those years ago, I've handled the aging process quite well - although, some days it doesn't quite feel like it!

Phlebotomy Class Update...

2009-03-10T13:39:00.002-05:00

I thought you might want to know the next chapter in the academic life of our student who is suffering with pharmaceutical-induced Parkinson's.

She met with the school coordinator yesterday afternoon. The situation was discussed and she was given an overview of the options as Jan and I see it, and the school backs us up on it, as they should.

Last night, the students had their second practical exam, as well as a written exam.

We settled them down with their written exams, then each student came in their turn to do their practical with either Jan or myself.

I encouraged Jan to take our student with the problem to make a final determination on the tremors. It was horrible, according to Jan. But, I don't think Jan had really seen what I had been seeing because the student had been dealing with me up to this point in the lab sessions. Jan was horrified. The student was allowed to redo the practical (in this instance) because she was still so uptight about her meeting with the coordinator earlier in the day. It was no better on the second attempt.

Now the waiting game begins. The student must decide whether she will take the offered full refund for the class, or if she will finish the didactic portion with the hope that the tremors will cease with a medicine change.

I simply will be praying for best outcome for all on this one; I hope that if this is the proverbial door being closed, that a window is opened far enough for her to see what she should do next.

The other students had the worst night lab-wise that I've ever seen. Can we blame it on switching to daylight savings time?

Almost to a fault, every student either forgot to ID the patient, or they forgot which tubes go with a plasma lab or a serum lab.

But...their sticks seem to be smooth, and changing tubes was better than I thought possible. They'll get better - but I certainly hate it when they screw up on the tests!

In other teaching news, Jan's medical problems have come to a point where she no longer wants to teach more than one class a year. So, beginning in late April, I'll be stepping up to the plate and taking over a class.

That's right...Kate has her very OWN class! And, I'm also pleased to say that the college is doing feasibility studies on producing a "boot camp" for retired nurses who want to rejoin the workforce. They've asked me to consider teaching the phlebotomy skills portion. I hope it works out to be a viable option.

Spring Semester 2009 Phlebotomy Class

2009-03-09T13:47:00.004-05:00

A phone call roused me from slumber – and it was a freakin’ wrong number, whose disembodied voice wanted to argue with me about whether or not I had called them about an outage on my direct TV.

Problem: I don’t have direct TV; my cable is provided by my phone company. By the time I got that call finished, I was well past drowsy and pretty much into annoyed wakefulness. Ah, well, why go back to sleep when there’s laundry to be done? (I realize the idiocy in that statement, so no comment necessary, thanks! *grin* )

Checking email found a letter from the coordinator of the classes I teach. I realized I hadn’t told you about my classroom work for awhile.

Yeah, I know…you’re already wishing I’d told the caller to f*** herself and gone back to sleep. But, now you’re just stuck with reading whatever spills out of my keyboard;)

The economy has made community education in this area a hotbed of activity. Unemployed or people who’ve been laid off are frantic to find new careers which might make them viable in the job market again.

Healthcare work is a popular option right now. And, while many people don’t have the desire to go back to college, they are anxious to expand or acquire knowledge in things they may have been interested in, but didn’t want to give up a decent job to follow up on that interest.

Phlebotomy is one of those things. It’s a basic semester course that will give the student a way to get into health care in an entry-level position. They think it’s easy. You just stick a needle in someone’s arm, right? They bleed, you collect it in some sort of container and voila! you’re a phlebotomist!

Wrong. It ain’t that simple. There are roughly 13 separate steps a phlebotomist must take from beginning to end to attain that blood sample.

No! That cannot be true! many students think. It’s a common misconception because those of us who are good at it make it look easy. It is easy – for me. But it took many draws to get to that point of comfort where I can simply do the job, get the draw with minimum discomfort and still carry on a conversation with the patient or staff.

That’s what, in part, makes it so much fun to teach phlebotomy. I get the joy of seeing the bright anticipation of the students the first night of class when they’re still thinking this class will be easy.

It’s not. It ain’t all about the needles. The didactic portion of class is intense. We *do* expect you to have a clue about what basic tests go in what color tubes. We *do* expect you to know the difference between a tube with sodium heparin in it, and EDTA. We *do* expect you to be able to forego your Velcro mentality and learn how to tie a proper tourniquet…and make it smooth so it doesn’t tear up an old lady’s tissue paper skin.

And, you’re gonna get a quiz or an exam and homework to do, too. This isn’t a feelgood class – at least not at first. Your classmates are hoping that by the end of the semester you’ll be able to put a needle in a vein without a brightly colored hematoma making an appearance several hours later. Perhaps by the end of didactic we’ll be confident in your ability to go to clinicals and stick needles in people who are, not only strangers, but are sick, too!

The realization comes as a tremendous shock to a fair amount of the students. And, to our credit, we haven’t lost one yet because of the coursework. They all do their best to get through those first painful weeks of the boring stuff about national advisory boards, and privacy laws. Those who’ve never been in any sort of medical job suffer as they learn body systems and how to break down medical terminology. And they learn the mantras: Always properly ID your patient and Tourniquet, Tube, Needle!

In 12-16 weeks (including their clinicals) they should have a certificate of completion in their hands and the ability to find a job in a new career. But, that’s another post I’ll work on some other time.

This semester saw our largest class. We have 19 students this round, each with their own story to tell, and many with their own particular brand of drama they try to manipulate us with. In some cases, we have to make a difficult decision.

One of those decisions will be happening this afternoon. Tonight’s lesson plan is, in part, the second of three practical exams.

Each student will be given a fake requisition of a patient who must be drawn. We use artificial arms for this procedure to make sure all students have a level playing field.

One student may not be taking the exam. I don’t know whether to expect her in class tonight. And, the circumstances leading to this just sadden me completely.

You see, the student is a woman in her 40’s who was, at one time part of an EMT IV team. Her function was to get intravenous lines started in folks who were difficult draws. You have to be damn good to be on a team like that. You have to be able to walk into a room, do an almost immediate assessment of the situation and get your work started, because, in many cases, the patient’s life hangs in the balance.

She’s been away from that work for some years. She decided to take our course to refresh her skills, and get an opportunity to get back into the work force.

And, we can’t let her go to clinicals. She’s been at the top of her class academically from Day One. But practically? What we thought were the mere nerves of a student phlebotomist did not improve as time went by.

I had to be direct with her at her first practical exam. Her “nerves” were so bad that her shaking was out of control. Had that been a real person draw, the patient would have been suing the hospital before the phlebotomist walked out of the room.

I had to decide whether to dance around the subject in a nice, polite and politically correct way, or simply be blunt. I chose blunt.

I explained to the student that she couldn’t do sticks on real people with the shaking she was experiencing. And, though I did know this unofficially, the student confirmed to me that she was on medications which had a side effect of tremors. She said she would be talking to her doctor about upping her dosage to control the shaking.

I questioned the advisability of that; I mean, why would a person want to take a medicine which is doing its intended job and increase that dosage to control a side effect? At any rate, she said she planned to talk to her doctor. Then she listed out the medications she is on.

I think she should sit down with her doctor AND her pharmacist and get this figured out. The combination of medications she’s taking is giving her pharmaceutically-induced Parkinson’s Disease. The shaking will not get better any time soon. The only human she’s stuck is her own daughter, who’s also taking the class. We won’t let her stick anyone else. I felt badly about that – so much so I considered letting her do a hand stick on me last week, until it occurred to me that my hands are my livelihood. Then it was simple to drop that thought from my brain.

But, this makes me sick…this woman had “the touch” at one time. She has empathy for the patient. She’s warm and kind. And, if she didn’t have the problem she does, she’d be one I’d be recommending for a job with no hesitation whatsoever.

Life is just not fair sometimes.

News From the Nursery Lab 2009-2

2009-03-05T17:43:00.002-06:00

The good news: We had a set of triplets AND a set of twins born yesterday - all babies were doing pretty well when I left work.

The funny news: Sometimes words just don't come out right.

A nurse had just inserted an IV catheter in a baby's foot to try to get a venous blood draw. The nurse who was assisting her had to leave the room for a bit to grab a needed item.

When she returned, she apologized to the nurse holding the catheter.

She then asked the other nurse the following question:

"Would you like me to hold that so you can suck?"

I couldn't help it, having a mind which is not too far removed from the gutter at all times. I just cracked up. After a moment, they did, too.

Dark Highway at 3:30 a.m.

2009-03-01T21:37:00.002-06:00

I seldom have a whole lot of traffic to contend with on my journey to work at 0330. It's just me and very few other souls venturing down the lonely highway - kind of a bad thing when it's snowing and you can't see any part of the road. But, it's also comforting because I know if I were following someone, much like a lemming, I'd follow someone's tracks right into the ditch.

A couple of mornings ago, I was deep in thought. I was worrying about my new trainee, and I was combining that with some other gloomy thoughts about my existence on earth.

At any rate, before I got out of town, I glanced in my rearview mirror and discovered there was a reason that the world seemed so much brighter than usual.

I uh...sort of had these red and blue flashing lights reflecting in the mirror.

The officer comes to my window and asks me if I know I was speeding. Thankfully, I didn't say "Duh" to him.

He asked me where I was going at this hour and I told him to work. "Where do you work?" "BHTS" I replied.

He then asked for my license and registration. I dug out the registration and showed it to him. My license was trickier, because I carry my purse inside a big tote bag.

I pulled out my checkbook, which has a slot for the driver's license and several credit cards.

I opened the thing up and handed what I thought was my license to the cop. I saw the funniest look cross his face. It was so odd, that I looked down at my license.

I discovered, to my horror, that I'd done what was completely natural to me - I'd pulled out my credit card and handed it to him.

Oh gods, I was just waiting to be hauled off to jail for attempting to bribe an officer...

Although he had absolutely no sense of humor about the incident, he let me go with a warning.

Sheesh. Duh.

News From the Nursery Lab 2009-1

2009-02-28T22:52:00.001-06:00

The easiest way to explain my absence from updating you on my Warrior Babies is....budget cuts.

BHTS is not the only one suffering from economic strife. It's happening all over the country, and most likely, the world.

It's not pretty. And, as so many of us had feared, the first place it is showing up is in patient care. Staff cutbacks are on the rise; some shifts have lost unit clerks, with the expectation that the nurses can pick up the slack with no problem. Expectations are that the unit clerks who do have a shift will be willing to work overtime (and get paid time and a half) to keep things caught up, when in many cases the time and a half that's being paid to them would have supported the other unit clerks for at least some of their shift. It's management at its finest once again.

There's no problem for me and my job at this point; in fact, I'm pushed to my limits almost every day. I'm dragging my ass home every day, trying to maintain all the things I always do, then shower and head out the door to teach twice a week, then start it all over again the next day.

Every department has rearranged things and budgets have been gone over with that proverbial fine-toothed comb, which is, if you don't know, undoubtedly one of those combs used to remove nits from lice-infested hair. It's really too bad that that comb doesn't sweep away some of the management who have salaries well and above $100K, isn't it? And, while the budget cutters have slashed Kleenex from the PLC, stating that the cost of Kleenex is prohibitive, it was announced in the local university paper that two consultants were hired for a project at a cost of $165K.

That would buy an awful lot of Kleenex, from my rough estimation...

They've also put the lid on hiring, even though the "official" word is that any job that deals with direct patient care is to be opened up immediately. The reality, is, though, that job requests are made, it works up the chain of command to the CEO who makes a decision whether the job can be posted.

We were stuck for awhile because NICU, Critical Care, Outpatient Clinics, Adult Phlebotomy Team, and Mail-outs were all lumped into a Point of Service area. While everything, with the exception of Mail-Outs was well under budget, Mail-Out was running such a high figure that it seemed that our whole department was running in the red, so...no new hires. Someone needs to sit the doctors down and tell them that they don't always need to order every obscure test they can think of.

At any rate, things finally loosened up enough that we were able to hire two half-time people in my area.

The first one was a dream come true. I had her doing sticks by the end of the first day, and her actual training was completed in less than two weeks, so her last two weeks were basically unsupervised training time to dot all "i's" and cross all "t's". If only they could all be that easy!!!

The second one began two weeks ago. My department has been informed they need to pay me combat pay for this one, and the training supervisor owes me big time!

I wish I would have had time to blog during the last two weeks to tell you about all of this as it came about. The training supervisor had warned me that she would most likely ask "a lot of questions, many of which would be ahead of what I was actually trying to teach her..."

That doesn't begin to cover it. This trainee, who I'll call "S", would make the devil himself run. S is one of those employees who, sadly, has already passed her 6 month orientation period, so we have no chance of letting her go. The good part is, finally, mid-week, she started smoothing out on how she did her draws - no doubt due to the excellent instructor she has *grin* - so I'm no longer as concerned from that aspect.

But, she's driving all of us nuts. And, as I introduce her to other departments in which she'll work, the response will be, "Yes...we used to work together as (pick a job)." This phrase will invariably be said with either a grimace, or through gritted teeth. Not good.

Not only does she ask questions that are totally inappropriate, she doesn't fit in easily, due to her own idiosyncrasies.

Don't laugh...but she's a complete and total germophobe. Yes, we work in the lab. Yes, we work with various bits of humanity that are not always pleasant. Yes, we wear gloves 95% of the time, but occasionally, you just have to grab something or do something without gloves on.

Most lab people carry a pocketful of gloves in their lab coats. It's far easier than looking around the rooms trying to figure out what brainiac had the smart idea to put the glove box holders on the far wall of the room.

But not S. S is of the strong opinion that she must get her gloves from each room as she needs them because gloves are not sterile and she doesn't know where they've been (duh...in the BOX) and if she puts them IN HER POCKETS, then her pockets will not be sterile any longer and she'll not be able to put her bare hands into her pockets!!!! First of all, our lab coats are not sterile. Our gloves are not sterile. Our trays and the resulting items in the trays are not sterile. Some of the items may be contained with in a package with a sterile item inside, but none of the outside packaging could be considered sterile. EVER.

She can't touch anything in the lab that might have been near a blood product. She won't touch the tube system with bare hands. She won't touch the keyboard with bare hands, even though it's a "clean" keyboard, meaning none of us are supposed to wear gloves with that particular keyboard.

But...in spite of her phobias, she doesn't find it odd at all to do stretches to get the kinks out of her back - we're talking about stretches in a room that sometimes seven people are crowded into; makes no difference to her... if she wants to stretch, she folds her arms across the laser printer and sticks her ass out into the middle of the room or in the face of someone who might be sitting at the computer by the laser printer, and stretches away.

When we have a break in the action, we sometimes check our email. I was having a quick peek at mine a couple of days ago. The particular letter I opened had that bad ole "F" word in it...she was horrified that I, her instructor, knew what it meant, and not only that, that someone would write it to me. Thing is, when I opened my email she was across the room, but as soon as she saw my email was open she scrambled right over to read my screen. Needless to say, I don't check my email with her around any longer. Don't need the lecture!

She can't take "medical humor", which most times is disgusting and gross, but it certainly relieves stress. She wants immediate gratification when asking a question and accused me of not knowing the answer when I told her to "look it up". Excuse me...? Just WHO is the instructor? I must have only *thought* it was me!

Anyway, the next two weeks will be trying for me, and I'll be more than happy to see her finished and put on her shift to torture people I seldom have to work with. At least I'm fairly confident she will be okay with the babies, and I know the Bay 1 nurses will go after her tooth and nail if she so much as screws up. So, there is a measure of comfort there someplace.

We lost a little one two weeks ago who had been with us for five months. She fought the good fight, but it was time. Everything that could possibly be done for her was done, and then some. She just didn't have anything left to fight with and before decision day came for her parents, she decided for herself.

I couldn't even cry for her. She is in a far better place now. If there's hell on earth, that Warrior Baby certainly lived it. Be at peace, Allysa. You put all of us to shame with the spirit and bravery you showed in those five months.

Part of my job is to help fill in drawing adults again. I was down in the overflow Mother-Baby unit getting a crit on a mom. As I tied the tourniquet on the mom, palpated and found the vein, then loosened the tourniquet, the mother began to cry.
I apologized to her, asking her if she was afraid of needles. She said she wasn't, and began to sob even harder. Her husband said, "We lost our baby yesterday." He began to cry, too. She said, "I carried the baby for nine months and she died in spite of everything."

I patted her, gave them my sympathy, and got out of the room as fast as I could. I yelled at the nurses for sending me into a room like that without giving me a heads up. (The baby had died on a different shift - they assumed I knew.)

And, I'm really afraid that we may lose another one this weekend. I'm going to be afraid to look at the roster on Monday morning. I hope his situation is looking better than it did when I left on Friday.

I'm going to wrap this up for now. But, I do want to mention that I was surprised and delighted in January over this:

Making a Difference Award
Kate Cheyney, Clinical Laboratory Scientist
Pathology Core Lab

While performing a morning lab draw on a patient, Kathleen noticed that the previous lab draw on an 800 gram patient was incorrectly done - the slant of the draw was horizontal and not vertical to the heel of the patient. I had reported to Kathleen that when I did my first assessment for my shift that the heel was bleeding profusely. Kathleen took a digital picture of the heel and is going to use it to educate the staff so the method of lab draw will not occur again. I believe that Kathleen is a strong patient advocate in protecting out little preemies in the NICU. Kathleen is not only an
excellent lab technologist, but she is always friendly. Thank you, Kate!

~ Diane Murray, Staff Member

Happy Valentine's Day

2009-02-13T20:50:00.002-06:00

In my defense, yes, I know I haven’t blogged for a few months. It’s not because of lack of caring – it’s simply because life keeps stepping in and making a whole lot of other plans for me.

If things go well, I’ll be posting more now; if not, I’ll simply post when I can! I am not going to let guilt get me over my lack of blogging!

The reason, though, that I’ve chosen tonight to blog is to wish anyone who still might be reading my thoughts on this blog a very happy Valentine’s Day. Consider this your card. *grins*

If you’ve known me for any length of time, you’ll know that this is atypical behavior. Valentine’s Day is not normally a part of my life, nor has it ever been.

But, I get it now. Right in the most tender part of my heart, I get it.

You see, until this year, I’ve had exactly one Valentine card given to me. That is, unless you count the Valentine cards we used to give to all our classmates in grade school! But that wasn’t by choice, that was more of a requirement!

I’ve certainly participated in Valentine’s Day; I worked retail for a good many years, so I’ve built displays, I’ve watched cards and flowers go through checkout lines, and I’ve stripped the thorns off thousands of roses and made up vases of arrangements, all destined to be delivered to someone else. Sometimes I even send email cards to people, not often, but it’s been known to happen. I’ve grown so used to NOT celebrating it, to remember to do so because it’s important to others just never occurs to me.

I think my spouse gave me a Valentine gift the first year we were married. Since then, it’s only been complaints because of the stupidity of the holiday and the hysteria it creates in mostly sane people. And, since I learned early on that I would not be fortunate enough to receive a Valentine from a boy, nor later on to expect one from my spouse (after that first year, that is), I learned to compensate, taking on the belief that my spouse held, that Valentine’s Day was simply a feeding frenzy for florists, chocolatiers, lingerie stores and jewelers.

When the kids were little, I made my spouse go to the local “good” candy store and buy each one of the kids a delightful combination of candy. That was from Daddy and the kids were thrilled because they knew it was a special store, and a gift from there showed them how much they were loved by him. (Mommy showed them in other ways. This was strictly Daddy’s gift for them.) My “day” is St. Patrick’s Day. I used to celebrate that with my Mom every year, and even though I’ve celebrated March 17 often, the years since Mom died have been tough enough that I told Himself that he’d best remember the holiday. I have other, more personal and private reasons I celebrate it as well; only one other person knows the full truth of the importance of St. Patrick’s Day.

But, now I’m talking about February 14. I was totally gobsmacked earlier this week when I met up with a guy friend for a couple of hours.

After a quick hug, he handed me a gift bag and a card.

“What’s this?” I asked. He looked at me, somewhat askance.

“It’s a Valentine gift,” he said, as he handed it over. I think my jaw dropped. I can’t be sure. I stood there, totally stunned, not really knowing what to do. I think I said something along the lines of “Thank you” and “I didn’t get you anything.” He said it didn’t matter.

But, it did matter – to me, even if not to him. How do you explain to someone that you’ve simply adjusted your life to fit other people’s expectations and grown so used to it that you simply accept things as is, instead of letting yourself feel what you really wanted to feel for a long time?

I turned away from my friend for a few minutes, because I felt the eyes beginning to well up. Damn things always try to leak at the most inappropriate times.

I swallowed and told him I’d never received a Valentine before. He was incredulous. He’s a lawyer, so I did get a brief interrogation. I told him, as I’ve already told you here, that I’d gotten a gift early on in my marriage. He was amazed upon hearing it, in fact, I really don’t think he believes me yet.

And my heart? Even yet, a few days later, I almost cry every time I look at the little gift and card. Damn it, he made me feel cherished. He made me feel like I mattered, that I was important enough to remember on a day known for romance.

He gets major points for this. Thank you, David. Happy Valentine’s Day to you, too.

But....it's NOT

2008-10-23T13:04:00.002-05:00

While I'm thrilled that Jude and Tracy remembered my birthday....unfortunately, it's not my birthday!

Not yet, anyway. Gotta wait until November for that forest fire to begin :)

Pronunciation Question

2008-10-12T14:56:00.002-05:00

I was looking at my Sitemeter a bit ago and saw a hit from Puyallup, Washington. Jeff, is that you?

I'm curious how this is pronounced. Is it Puh-YALL-up? Or is it Puh-Y'all-UP? Or am I just plain wrong all the way around?

I have to admit I'm kind of charmed by the possibility that it could be Puh-Y'all-UP. Sounds like an optimistic sort of place, doesn't it?

Linky-Love

2008-10-12T00:31:00.001-05:00

Adding this one to my blog-roll right away. If you like medical blogs, check out VooDoo Medicine Man. I'm a fan already.

Important! Birthday Party!

2008-10-11T20:34:00.013-05:00

Luke turned six at the end of September. But, we didn't have his birthday party till last Saturday. Luke celebrated his actual birthday with his kindergarten class and he was so excited that night when I talked to him on the phone. He had a wonderful time and was looking forward to his family birthday party.

We gathered at Lyn and Jared's for the party; we usually have a simple dinner of some sort before the cake and ice cream. This time it was burritos/tacos. Quick, simple and everyone built their own to suit.

Luke, as guest of honor was wearing his crown:

You'll have to excuse the red-eye thing...I forgot to set that feature on the camera! Thankfully, I can fix that when I make prints. You'll have to put up with it as I'm not going to photoshop and correct.

Luke is one of those kids who actually LIKE to get clothes. And, he got some nice ones, although he was even more happy to get "other stuff". He wanted a good old-fashioned board game, Chutes and Ladders, which R and I happily purchased along with new jeans and shirts.

And, he loved his new slippers.

Planning the birthday cake has been very important in our family; At the very least we have always let the birthday boy or girl have their choice of cake; I started decorating cakes for my crew when they were small; I taught Patrick how to decorate cakes the year his ex took off and he didn't know what to do for Isabelle's birthday, and it's just continued down the generational line. The little ones debate over who or what they want their cake to be each year. This year, Luke chose "Wall-E" for his cake.

From left to right: Lyn, Luke, Milana, (being held by Anna) and Nick, Anna's boyfriend.

A wonderful time was had by all.

Of course, that new baby got passed around, too. Believe it or not, someone FINALLY took my picture with her...I have to admit, I was getting just a wee bit perturbed that I was the only one who'd been left out. I mean, I *know* taking my picture can create a camera shortage! But I still want pictures to prove I *do* exist!

Grandpa gets his hands on her every chance he gets, too.

And, Great-Grandma, too (R's mother):

Eventually, wee ones get worn out from all the handling, and can go to sleep anywhere and in almost any position:

As our family grows, we're beginning to get birthdays in each month. This month, October, it's Jared, Robert and Isabelle. Next month, it's Milana and I. Busy times till the first of the year...and it's STILL not done, even then.

Good thing we all like cake!!!

sigh I have to lick his boots again....

2008-10-08T21:32:00.002-05:00

You know what the WORST thing about having Orion as a best friend is? It's when he takes something that could probably quite easily be left just the way it came down through the ages and answers it in something akin to brilliance. Then I have to grovel in awe at what falls out of his grey matter with little or no trouble.

Everyone has grown up with riddles and tongue twisters designed to...well...drive you crazy in some way. For some of us it's a very short trip. Others, like Orion, delve into the heart of the questions asked, not content to just let things maintain the status quo.

Does there NEED to be an answer to everything? If you're Orion...yes. The question was posed over on Yahoo Answers:

How much wood could a woodchuck chuck if a woodchuck could chuck wood?

And, Orion replied:

There has been extensive research into this question over the ages.

The Biblical Answer is, of course: "Yeah, and the Woodchucks did gather into the Ark and verily Noah did cast them out as they began chucking the gopherwood of the Ark into the sea leaving the gophers mightily pissed." (Genesis 4, verse 10)

Socrates, famed philosopher of Ancient Greece answered it thusly: "Wait...I drank what?" which, unfortunately left quite a bit of mystery that he was unable to explain fully as he died soon after.

The French, experimenting during the Age of Reason found only that woodchuck bites can be quite painful and that (after the revolution overthrowing their woodchuck masters and re-establishing the Bourbon dynasty) woodchuck fur really doesn't make good coats.

Scandanavians, attempting to find the one true answer found that woodchucks freeze when left in sub-zero temperatures in a pile of wood without really establishing a definitive answer although Swedish Chemist Alfred Nobel claimed that the answer could be derived by exploding the woodchucks with his nifty new invention 'dynamite' - Other scientists (primarily Norwegian) countered this claim by saying "EWW!" and "YUCK!"

Most recently, American researchers have found only that the Woodchucks will turn the needed Environmental Impact Statements into warm nesting material, necessitating the forms all be filled out again: In triplicate. Unfortunately, while they were doing this, terrorists from Earth First! attempted to rescue the woodchucks, resulting in several fatalities in the Earth First! Commando team from painful Woodchuck bites, this confirming the French Research.

The Japanese have, however, built a robotic Woodchuck that is half the size of a natural Woodchuck, runs on Solar Power, and chucks Wood all day long at the rate of 2 cords per hour.

Hopefully, this helps...

Orion

Perception Personality Image Test

2008-10-07T10:41:00.001-05:00

Your result for The Perception Personality Image Test...

NBPC - The Daydreamer

Nature, Background, Big Picture, and Color

You perceive the world with particular attention to nature. You focus on the hidden treasures of life (the background) and how that fits into the larger picture. You are also particularly drawn towards the colors around you. Because of the value you place on nature, you tend to find comfort in more subdued settings and find energy in solitude. You like to ponder ideas and imagine the many possibilities of your life without worrying about the details or specifics. You are in tune with all that is around you and understand your life as part of a larger whole. You are a down-to-earth person who enjoys going with the flow.

The Perception Personality Types:

Take The Perception Personality Image Test at HelloQuizzy

Beautiful

2008-10-07T08:56:00.002-05:00

This is, by far, one of the most beautiful pieces of dance I've ever seen. H/T to John at Full-On Forward

News from the Nursery Lab 2008-10

2008-10-05T20:41:00.005-05:00

It's been awhile since I've updated you all on the happenings in the NICU. I'm sad to say that in the last ten days we've lost two of our long-time babies; I'd just as soon not tell you much about their time on this earth. Suffice it to say that one set of parents wanted everything possible done to keep their child alive. It was a decision I'd hate to have to make, but in this case, the less selfish choice would have been to let the child find peace.

The other fought the good fight. Sadly, dialysis couldn't save him. In the few days prior to his crossing, we were blessed to be able to see intelligence in his gaze and feel his little fingers curl around ours. It comforted him...and those of us who cared for him.

Every time you hear a bell, another angel gets his wings

Be at peace, Ezra and Peyton

I've just finished training a new Lab Tech to work the overnight shift. She's just awesome. She came to us as a former research lab rat, so I was able to easily breeze through many of the training items that bog down others who've had little lab experience. She was ready to "stick" on Day Two and didn't look back. She absorbed the computer work like a sponge and boy, I wish I'd get more trainees like her!

Right now, we're on a "hiring freeze", and thus, are working short-shifted. My boss keeps saying, "Kate, I owe you..." and I keep telling him he's running up quite a tab. I've also told him what the payoff will be. Let's hope he delivers when I'm ready to push for it. (A promotion, a pay grade raise, and fewer weekends are the plan.)

I love most of the nurses I work with; there are, unfortunately, a few that are going to take some time to get off my "stupid" list. Today was an example. I was in doing a scheduled draw on a baby who was taking great offense to the whole concept of me poking a hole in his heel. A pacifier and a wee bit of sugar water, aka "baby crack", soothed him so I could proceed. But, new babies aren't very coordinated, and soon the binky popped out of his mouth, resulting in extreme sadness and shrill wails designed to give one fingernails on chalkboard shudders.

By this time my hands are both occupied with capillary tubes and feet. The nurse comes in, leans over my shoulder, close enough that she's actually touching my shoulder, no less, and observes, "You're really making that baby angry."

Nooooooooo....really?

"He'll be just fine if you'll take a moment to put the pacifier in his mouth for me...my hands are full."

She looked at me, turned around and walked out of the room. GRRRRRRR.

Last week, one of the nursing assistants showed up in the room with me.

"Kate, we're starting procedural support again...can I help you with the draw?"

Procedural support is a theory that the babies will be much better off if someone makes sure to be there to provide binky support, keep a comforting hand on the baby, sing, coo, or do whatever it takes to keep the baby calm during the draw.

It's great...in theory.

In actuality, though, there are very few kids who require the support. An experienced vampire can be in and out of the room, get the stick with minimal discomfort and trauma to the kid, and many times do so without the child even waking up.

When procedural support comes in, they wake the kid up, unwrapping them, dragging them out of their blankies and clothes to make sure we don't get blood on anything. We'd much prefer it if they would stand quietly by and observe to see if they're needed, and step in to comfort if need be.

I used to be pro-active on procedural support; administration asked us to try it out, and we wasted a lot of time tracking down folks to help us, only to find out they were busy with other things. We don't have time to watchdog; we've got labs to draw. If "they" want procedural support, they're gonna have to be willing and able to get themselves to bedside to help. And, as stated previously, we don't much care whether they're there or not.

Besides...it boggles my mind that the NA's are asked to do this. NA's have so much stuff to accomplish in a shift it's ridiculous. I can't figure out why the nurses, who're sitting outside the room anyway, can't get off their duffs and help. Let the NA's step in when the nurses are actually busy with patient care. I'm sorry, but internet shopping does NOT qualify in my book as "busy".

I had to giggle at a conversation a gaggle of nurses was having last week. Seems they had a staff meeting to get an update on any complaints that parents might have. (This was in one of the healthier baby units, btw.) Seems the two major complaints the parents have are that the nurses spend a whole lot of time gossiping and the parents also think that the nurses should dress a little more professionally so the parents can tell they're the nurses. Scrub pants and non-hospital t-shirts just don't cut it in the parents' eyes. Gossiping - yeah, they have a point there, too. We all enjoy indulging in non-hospital banter, but it should be reserved for times when the parents are not around.

But then, I'm old school on a lot of things. Just not 'hip' anymore, I guess!

In a cruel twist of fate, we currently have a patient whose mother must have missed the "what to name your baby" class. To get the full effect of this, I have to tread the edges of HIPAA and actually state the baby name.

But first, for your television brain, you must be made aware of more of the outside influences in this child's world.

Mama is, of course, a woman. A *LARGE* woman. Over 450 pounds of large (I spelled that "lard"ge the first time...)

My first visit to the child's room found me stepping gingerly around C-Pap equipment, blankets and sheets, dirty clothes on the floor. Candy, soda cans, etc. were scattered on side tables, and other flat surfaces.

Baby, of course, being a NICU child has an assortment of bells and whistles around her bed, too. More things to try to avoid stepping on.

Mama is doing her level best to change the diaper. With her bulk, she's trying desperately to grab a diaper, reach into the bed, do the necessary cleaning. She can't get out of the oversized recliner to even stand up - she's far too heavy for her legs to maintain the bulk.

Puff, puff, pant, gasp, gasp. Repeat.

"It's been so long since I did one of these, I'm not sure I remember how."

This made me think that she probably had kids at least ten years old. So, I asked.

She has one other child...a two year old. And she's forgotten how to change diapers? Excuse me? You can't convince me that a two year old...and a boy at that...is potty trained...at least, not completely.

She seemed like a fairly upbeat woman. She had a ready smile, and a deep, almost whisky-tinged voice. Until she spoke the child's name, cooing to her in the way that parents do.

She's named the girl child "Precious". Yep, that's her legal name.

But when she says it...there's no deep, whisky voice. Instead, she takes the timbre of her voice to a level the makes my hackles stand straight up.

"Ohhhhhhh, my Prrrreeeeeeeeeeecccciiiiooooooouuuuuuussssssssssss!!!!!!!!" Let mama change you, my Preeeeeecccccciiiiiioooooouuuuuusssssssss!!!!!!"

I'm whimpering inside my head, trying to escape the room as quickly as possible.

It's a 450 pound Gollum.

Help.

Classic Dame

2008-10-04T14:56:00.000-05:00

Your result for The Classic Dames Test...

Carole Lombard

You scored 14% grit, 14% wit, 38% flair, and 48% class!

You're a little bit of a fruitcake, but you always act out in style. You have a good sense of humor, are game for almost anything, but you like to have nice things about you and are attracted to the high life. You're stylish and modern, but you've got a few rough edges that keep you from attaining true sophistication. Your leading men include William Powell, Fredric March, and Clark Gable. Watch out for small planes.

Find out what kind of classic leading man you'd make by taking the
Classic Leading Man Test.

Take The Classic Dames Test at HelloQuizzy

October Photo Contest

2008-09-30T22:38:00.010-05:00

Pictures have been posted for this month's photo contest. The theme for this month is "Cemeteries" While it can be a somber sort of theme, I think most of us feel as though they are a great source of fascination, peacefulness and quiet beauty.

Come on over to Stardom Awaits and check out, then vote for your favorite picture. Only one vote per person, please!!!

Here are some of my pictures that didn't make my own cut. Enjoy!

"Miss You"

"Wife Endeared"

Look at the dates these people died and the age difference. She must have been a child bride...

"Always Remembered"

See the Wolf?

"Squirrel's Gift"

Remember, voting is only open for a couple of weeks. Don't wait too long to see what we offer in our small gallery this month!

Kate

News of the Odd and Weird -2008/1

2008-09-27T13:30:00.003-05:00

Stories that make me furrow my brow and say "What???"

My local newspaper reports that a young man is recovering after he fell and was impaled on a set of deer antlers

The boy's grandmother said he was climbing through a window in her home on Wednesday after locking himself out when he fell onto the antlers, which stabbed him in the back and just missed his spine.

The grandmother said the antlers were on the floor. She had saved them from a deer that her car crashed into some years ago.

Emergency room doctors removed the antlers Wednesday. The teen is out of the hospital and is expected to recover.

Competition...But I can't stand NOT to...

2008-09-25T20:04:00.004-05:00

Now, this is one of the more stupid things I do. Usually, I can talk myself out of it, but every so often I'm compelled to just barrel ahead full tilt.

Last year, Lyn mentioned to me that Luke could use a nice Christmas stocking. But, she made this request about two weeks before Christmas.

"No way!" I said.

So, this year, the knitting shop that gets far too much of my money offered a class on making Fair Isle Christmas stockings. Three classes, a couple of hours each. And, they were scheduled on Saturday afternoon, right after I got off work, so it was on the way home. I signed up.

As a word of explanation, Fair Isle is a technique of design that involves from one additional color to as many as you like. But, you only use two colors in any given row.

The course description said something along the line of "pick your main color and one or more additional colors". So, I picked out two colors, a main and one additional, figuring it was a new technique, so to learn to handle two colors of yarn at a time would be plenty.

The instructor is not the same one I had for my other sock class. She also seems nice, but seems to be just a tad on the snooty side, but that's no biggie - after all, most snooty folks I've come up against are actually snooty because of shyness.

Anyway, I started on my sock. One of the things you have to do with Fair Isle is chart your pattern out on a graph to make certain your pattern will come out even all the way around the sock. And, if you use any wording, you should fill in the rest of the circumference with some other design.

I figured this out because I DIDN'T do it.

And, amazingly enough, being the perfectionist that I can be, I actually let the mistakes be; I've been told that the Native Americans always try to leave a wee bit of a "mistake" in anything they craft, the reason, I believe is because perfection can make a person arrogant instead of humble. And, I like that analogy.

So, the mistakes stayed in place.

Anyway, the second class comes along. The assignment was to have at least 12 inches of sock finished, and we'd proceed with making the heel of the thing and proceeding forward to the end of the sock, and finish at the final class.

But, life, doing its usual thing prevented me from having as much time to knit as I'd hoped. I didn't even come close to having 12 inches of sock finished.

Ah well, I thought. I've made socks before - I'll just listen to the instructions and get caught up before the next class.

Then I went to class.

Perhaps I should mention my classmates. None of them work outside the home, and certainly none of them work two jobs. I'm sitting in the midst of them, chatting away about this knitting website and that technique and so on and so forth. And, they have time to research patterns, and colors and all that, and then proceed...and if they get stuck, they have time to come to the knitting shop other times beside class to ask questions. There is a part of me that does envy that.

But, that's not my life. Unfortunately, not having that life is what gets me into trouble with myself. Because when they pulled their socks out of their knitting bags to display, it was just as though someone dared me.

By the GODS, I can't let them get away with these gaily colored socks with five or six colors. It doesn't matter that they have all the time in the world and I don't. I'll MAKE time somehow.

This is the "I'll show you" phase of idiocy, you realize. Gets my ass into trouble more often than I'd like. The good part of it is without that function in my personality, I'd have never learned to camp, or use chopsticks, or go back to college or show dogs or, or, or...anyway, you get my drift.

So, my not-so-shabby project is going to be torn out and redone in more design and color.

Luke wouldn't care. He'd be tickled that his Grandma made his Christmas stocking. And it was the first one (And, it's possible it could be the last one, too!)

He won't care about the mistakes. He'll be far too interested in what might be IN the sock for the next few years. But Grandma can't stand it now that I've seen the others. I'm going to try to have something more elaborate than the simple thing I'd planned with only two colors. I'm going to go for more design and color.

Here are front and back pictures of sock number one.

So, this weekend will be one in which I intend to be firmly ensconced with yarn and needles. And, right now, I'm off to *gulp* pull the other sock off the needles and cast on the yarn for the new on.

Perfectionism, why must you keep rearing your ugly head?

Lifestyle Changes

2008-09-19T21:57:00.002-05:00

I've been quiet again of late, more so than I really want to be. But, I've been wrapping my brain around some necessary lifestyle changes, and for some reason, wrapping a brain is a painful process. *grin*

I haven't been feeling good for quite a while now. Vague symptoms; I've been trying to lose weight by way (weigh?) of Weight Watchers and while I initially lost 10 pounds it's all back plus about seven more.

I've been chalking it up to my best friend "Food", for Food doesn't disappear to watch all the sports channels, doesn't yell at me for my choice of political candidates, or tell me I don't shift gears right in my Jeep, among other things.

And, I figured that getting older might have had something to do with it, too. I don't recover like I did in my twenties. But, what was I recovering from? Gods know my social life ain't to blame. Between two jobs and trying to get a book done, it's not like I can hit the bars!

It remained a mystery until a few weeks ago when I received a letter from my blood bank after a donation. Seems my blood testing showed the possibility of auto-immune disease, and suggested I get things checked out.

The letter also said that the testing may have been a false positive because if I had any sort of infection at the time of donation, it could appear to be a problem.

I did have an infection and was put on antibiotics the same week as I donated. So, I ignored the letter, but just for the heck of it, I started investigating the symptoms of auto-immune diseases.

Chronic Fatigue Syndrome. Check.
Lupus. Nope. No butterfly mask or other symptoms.
Fibromyalgia. Theoretically, yes, but I refuse to accept it as a disease in and of itself.
Thyroid issues. Could be. Was on Synthroid for a year, and took myself off the stuff when the medical establishment upped my dosage and it made me ill, and they told me I'd have to learn to live with it. Uh, no. That was worse than the thyroid problem.
MS. Check.

So, me being the worrywart I am, I started preparing myself to hear that I had MS.

I like to worry out all the possible scenarios in order to be as prepared as possible for whatever might happen. It keeps my hairdresser in business covering up the grey, you see.

TW convinced me I'd better go get things checked out just to rule things out; being a typical medical type, I tend to walk a wide berth around doctors...no offense to any of you docs, but I just see way too many of you as med students and residents to be reallllllly comfortable unless you've proven to me your head *really* isn't shoved clear up your ass...

Anyway, I decided to pay attention to what the good Wolf said. And, I was glad I had because, of all things, my feet started hurting.

Badly.

Some days I had to sit on the side of the bed for 20-30 minutes before I could put my weight on 'em. And, since I pretty much stand over at least half my shift, I wasn't amused by this in the least. My best description would be to say it felt like I imagined an Oriental woman with bound feet must have felt.

After an exam by my doc, she sat down with me and said, "I'll bet your thyroid has finally completely quit. Let's get another TSH, then a T4 and T3 if necessary, pending the TSH results."

Okay. Then she took a non-fasting cholesterol and had the nerve to yell at me when the numbers came back high. I'd just had a fasting one seven weeks previously and it was borderline.

When I told her about my feet, she asked me, "One foot, or both?"

When I said both, she asked if I had any other joint pain. Well, yeah. Both shoulders, elbows, knees, and my thoracic spine. Again, she asked if it was one or both joints. When I said both shoulders, elbows, etc., she said, "You don't have MS or fibro, you've got Rheumatoid Arthritis."

That had never occurred to me But, it made sense with symetrical joint pain.

Then she told me I had to start exercising six days a week and get the weight off. More labs were ordered and she said she'd call with the results.

Several days later, she called with the results.

Of course, now, in her mind, I've become yet another woman who's a hypochondriac because my TSH came back normal, my chemistries came back fine and my sed rate just a tiny bit elevated. So, my pain must be "all in my head."

I have been ordered to take the weight off in three months or I have to go on meds. (Watch me NOT fill the Lipitor script!)

So, I'm trying to stay busy away from the computer because it's very easy to eat a snack or five when I'm sitting here goofing around.

And, I'm damn happy that I don't have a Dx of Fibro, because then AD would undoubtedly tease the hell out of me about it. *chuckles*

But, what I really hate is this whole idea of my medical person looking at me like I'm nothing but frequent flyer, like I'm making up the pain in my feet, the fire in my back. Just because there's no lab *proof* of the pain doesn't mean it's not there.

I'm all for losing the weight, for I know it will definitely lessen the symptoms, perhaps almost entirely. So, I'll be out walking the one of the dogs every day, and trying hard to cut back on time with my friend, Food.

But, please believe me when I tell you it's a bad or painful day. I'm really not making it up - if it's so bad I'll *tell* you I hurt, it'll be a 15 on a scale of 1-10.

Description Fit For A Belly Laugh

2008-09-14T23:18:00.002-05:00

Every so often I venture outside my few regular blogs to read others I've bookmarked.

One of 'em is by a Paramedic/Firefighter in Texas. I read it tonight and laughed till I cried. What great description! Thank you, Mr. Fixit!

Check out his post...and the comments that follow....here

Past Blog to the Present.

2008-09-14T21:27:00.002-05:00

Back in July, I posted a piece, based on a real person who committed suicide. Recently, another blog I read regularly posted an article on suicide and I cross-posted my blog to that one. Since then, there has been discussion with one of the people who took the opposite view of what I'd written. I've found the ensuing discussion to be interesting and thought-provoking, enough so that I'm bringing it up to current and posting the link for anyone to follow the discussion and add their own comments should they so choose.

You can find the original blog article here:

Comments are welcome, although I, personally, may choose not to respond. If you have something to say, please do!

Kate

Cell phones and Idiots

2008-09-11T16:47:00.002-05:00

My cell phone has been ringing all afternoon. When I check it, it throws out the message "unknown number".

So, I decided to carry it with me and answer the phone the next time it rang. (It previously was sitting on the kitchen counter).

The next call came in, I answered it. Some female asked for "Faith". I asked, "Are you the person who has been calling me all afternoon?"

I expected the person to respond so I could tell them they had been dialing a wrong number. But, no. They hung up.

But, that let the messages through.

"Hi, this is Teri and I'm a female. Please write back."

And, "Whose number is this?"

So, I texted back: "Please don't waste my time and minutes with your wrong number phone calls."

And moments later, her response to me. "Bitch"

Once the number came in I could see where she called from. Her last four numbers match mine...only the prefix is different. So, it seems she is having a good time calling all the local cell prefixes to find out who has her phone number with different prefixes.

What an idiot.

I'd rather be a bitch than an idiot, for certain.

Disgusting!!!!!

2008-09-10T08:07:00.002-05:00

I don't CARE if they're unused...!!!!

http://www.snopes.com/medical/toxins/hairband.asp

News From the Nursery Lab 2008-9

2008-09-07T11:55:00.002-05:00

I've just done an overnight shift in NICU, and realized I'd not given an update for awhile.

There must be a sale on multiple births going on someplace. Right now we have two sets of triplets, one set of twins and another set due very soon. And these are all within the last week. We still have three sets of twins still being cared for in various places throughout the NICU bays who are older than two weeks.

One of the babies from one of the triplet sets is having a rough go of things. He was fine last Thursday morning, early, but crashed late morning. He's septic, and is now in Bay 1, in isolation, of course. Today, he seems to have some "fight" in him. He's responding, where yesterday, he wasn't. Today I went to draw from one of his "neighbors" and found the room empty. My heart was in my throat. I had to find a nurse to find out why. I was relieved to hear he'd been moved to Bay 1.

The baby with no brain function has been moved to another facility in another city. She's going to be shuffled from spot to spot, it's sad to say. The out-of-state facility which was going to take her, changed their decision, for some reason.

I've since found out that some of what I'd only suspected was true. The only time the father of this child would show up at the hospital was when he wanted to have sex with the child's mother. They were not married. When the baby was born, the mom wanted to shut the machines off. The dad said, "no, no, let's do everything possible." And, she changed her mind and began to hope. Somewhere in the following weeks, he decided he didn't want the child, so after his girl was deeply involved physically and emotionally with the baby, he tells her to have the plug pulled, for he doesn't want to deal with the burden of this child they created any longer.

So, he shows up for sex, but he won't even stand next to the bed, nor will he even look at his child. And, he told the mother that if the child was moved to the new facility, she would never see him again.

I hope the dumb f*** never gets laid again. And, I, along with the rest of the health care team, have other wishes for him, too.

Now...the good news is that I was talking to one of the nurses about one of my Warrior Babies. The original post about her is here. I was directed to one of the nurse's workrooms to check out a picture of her and her twin sister. They're a year old!!!! Beautiful children, they are. And my Warrior Baby is as big as her sister. She's still on oxygen, though, but it sounds as though they've progressed enough that both are trying to pull up and walk now. And you know...running can't be far behind! It's so wonderful to get updates of the successes!

And now...I've got to mention yesterday's shift. *sigh*

We have two babies whose parents should be slapped for the names they gave their kids.

One little girl is the younger sister of a girl named Sumara. What did they name this child? They named her "Tomorrow".

I'm having visions of this girl's wedding day. Can you just see the groom getting down on one knee, spreading his arms and singing, "Tomorrow, Tomorrow, I'll love ya, Tomorrow, You're only a day away!"

And the other child, a boy, has parents who are taking the modern approach and are using a hyphenated last name...although I don't see where that will stop any teasing. This child is named Henry. The first part of his last name - minus the Cockney phrasing?

"Just you wait, 'Enry, 'Iggins, just you wait!"

And finally, one of the nurses decided to make a song stick in our heads.

I told the witch doctor I was in love with you...
I told the witch doctor you didn't love me true...
And then the witch doctor, he told me what to do...he said sing:

"Oooo Eeeee Ooooo Ah Ah, Ting-Tang Walla Walla Bing Bang.
Oooo Eeeee Ooooo Ah Ah, Ting-Tang Walla Walla Bing Bang."

*evil grin* Now YOU get to share it with me, too.

The "Left" Doesn't Cause All The Problems

2008-09-02T21:09:00.002-05:00

For those of you who don't know, Starhawk is a Pagan woman who is politically active - leans toward the left, she does. She's also a peaceful woman, but she's not afraid to get involved. Whether she, and those who support her causes are right or wrong, I don't particularly care.

I'm mainly posting this because it deserves to be known about...and I certainly haven't seen anything in the media about it. This report is from Starhawk - it's not been edited or changed in any way from the way it was sent out to those on her mailing list.

RNC: Raid on the Convergence Center

By Starhawk

It's Friday night. Our Pagan Cluster issitting on the bluff of the
Mississippi having our first real meeting, when Lisa gets a call. The cops
are raiding the Convergence Center, where we'reorganizing meetings and
trainings for the protests against the Republican National Convention. It's
not a role play, the caller says. It's real.

Instantly, we jump up and hurry back the six or eight blocks to the old
theater we are using for meetings, trainings and social gatherings. I've
spent the last two days doing magical activism trainings, teaching people
how to stay calm and grounded in emergency situations and when things get
chaotic. Now it's time to put the traininginto practice. Aaron, a tall,
red-headed young man who could be one of my nephews strides along beside me.
³Are you grounded?² I ask him. He nods, and runs ahead.

Nobody can keep up with Lisa, who speeds ahead like an arrow, walking, not
running, but still covering the ground quickly. Andy and I trail behind.
We're often street buddies, because we're both big, slow, and supremely calm
and stubborn, willing to wade into almost any situation and become the
immovable object.

We're stopped by a line of cops just beforewe reach the building. They
refuse to let us through, or to move their van which is blocking Scarecrow's
car. There's an investigation underway, theysay, and won't say more.

Brush, our dear friend, is inside, having gone to a jail solidarity meeting,
ironically enough. So are two very young people who had just joined our
cluster that night. I try calling Brush'scell phone, but get no reply.

We wait. That's what you do when the copshave guns trained on kids inside
a building. You wait, and witness, and make phone calls, and try to think
of useful things to do.

We call lawyers. We call politicians. We try to call media. We call
friends who might know politicians and media.

Through the kitchen door, we can see young kids sitting on the floor,
handcuffed. We walk across the street, back, made more phone calls. An
ambulance is parked in front, and the paramedics head into the building,
leaving a gurney ready. Susu, from her car around the corner, reports that
the cops have been grabbing pedestrians from the street, forcing them down
to the ground, handcuffing them.

Song, one of the local organizers, calls her City Council member. She wants
to call the Mayor, Chris Coleman, who has promised that St. Paul will be as
welcoming to protestors as to delegates, but no one has his home number.

What I have forgotten to tell people at the training is how much of an
action is just this: tense, boring waiting, with a knot of anxiety in your
stomach and your feet starting to hurt. Song talks to a helpful neighbor,
who's come over to find out what's happening. He knows where the mayor
lives, says it's just a few blocks away, anddraws us a map.

We decide to go and call on the Mayor, who could call off the cops. About
five of us troop down there, through the soft night and a neighborhood of
comfortable homes and wide lawns on the bluffs above the Mississippi. The
Mayor's house is a comfortable DutchColonial, and lights were on inside.
We decide that just a few of us will go to the door, so as not to look
intimidating. Song is a round, soft-bodied middle-aged woman with a sweet
face. Ellen is a tiny brunette with a gap-toothed smile, and Lisa,
formidable organizer though she is, looks slight and unthreatening. The
rest of us hang back. Someone opens the door. Our friends have a
conversation with the mayors' wife, who isnot pleased to be visited by
constituents late at night, and who tells us we should call the office. The
Mayor, she says, is asleep, and she will not wake him up.

We think a mayor who was doing his job would get up and go see what's going
on. Nonetheless, we head back to the convergence space.

A protestor has been released from the building. A small crowd has gathered
across the street, and Fox News has arrived. They interview Song, who does
her first ever Fox media spot. She tells them the truth:that people were in
there watching movies-a documentary aboutMeridel Le Seuer. Meridel would
be proud, and I'm glad she is with us in someform.

One by one, protestor's trickle out. Now weget more pieces of the story.
The cops burst in, with no warning. They pulled drew their guns on
everyone including a five year old child who was there with his mother,
forced everyone down on the floor. It was terrifying.

They had a warrant, apparently, from the county, not the city, to search for
"bomb making materials." They were searching everyone in the building,then
one by one releasing them as they found nothing.

They continue to find nothing, as we wait through long hours. Meanwhile,
more and more media arrives. These cops are not as creative as the DC cops
during our first mobilization there against the International Monetary Fund
and the World Bank. Those cops confiscated the lunchtime soup, which
included onions and chili powder, claiming they were materials for home made
pepper spray.

We wait until the last person gets out. He'sa twenty year old who the cops
have accused of stealing his own backpack, but apparently they relented.

And now it's morning. I wake up to the newsthat cops have been raiding
houses where activists are staying, bursting in with the same bogus warrant
and arresting people, including a four year old child. They've arrested
people at the Food Not Bombs house, a groupdedicated to feeding protestors
and the homeless. They've arrested others,presumably just for being in the
wrong place at the wrong time.

The Poor Peoples' Campaign, which had set upcamp at Harriet Island, a park
in the middle of the Mississippi, has also been harassed, its participants
ordered to disperse and its organizers arrested.

Let me be perfectly clear here: all of ushere are planning nonviolent
protests against an administration which is responsible for immense
violence, bombs that have destroyed whole countries, and hundreds of
thousands of deaths.

This is the America that eight years of the Bush administration have brought
us, a place where dissent is no longer tolerated, where pre-emptive strikes
have become the strategy of choice for those who hold power, where any group
can be accused of bomb-making or terrorismon no evidence whatsoever in
order to deter dissent.

Please stand with us. Because it could be your home they are raiding next.

Call the Mayors of St. Paul and Minneapolis. Tell them you are outraged by
these attacks on dissent. Urge them to let Poor People encamp and to let
dissent be heard.

FLOOD THE MAYORS' OFFICES ASAP

St. Paul Mayor Chris Coleman

651-266-8510

Minneapolis Mayor RT Rybak

(612) 673-2100

(612) 673-3000 outside Minneapolis

Regrets

2008-09-01T10:37:00.003-05:00

Sometimes your past bites you on the ass when you least expect it.

Happened to me yesterday.

I was out walking in the one of several cemeteries. Now, while this may seem odd, it really isn't. I was getting a head start on next month's photography contest, the theme of which is "Cemeteries"

My purpose in visiting this particular cemetery was that a part of it is reported to be a pet cemetery. I never did see any evidence of pets buried there; my next door neighbor is supposed to have a dog buried there. I'll have to ask her about that.

But what I did find was this:

I had no idea whatsoever she'd died...and so many years ago.

Sheila (that is, her dog) was one of my grooming clients when I owned the shop. I groomed her Yorkie, Clancy (I called her Clancy Jean) every month or six weeks while I owned the shop. I loved that little dog; I'd groomed her from the very first.

Sheila and I became friends, too. We did a lot of things together for a couple of years. When I made the decision to go back to college, I kept a few of my grooming clients and groomed their dogs at the house.

What happened next never should have been taken to extremes. Gods only know why it did. My spouse was on the road with his job. I was going to school full time, being a mom full time and doing it all alone. In between, I'd schedule grooming, or other parts of my life.

One day we had a short day at school. It was on the schedule and I'd mentioned it to Sheila. She came to the conclusion that Clancy needed grooming, while I was looking forward to shipping the kids out the door to school and having a day to myself to refresh.

Sheila could be as demanding a friend as I can be to others. She insisted that she'd drop Clancy off to me at 0800 to groom, and pick her up at 1600. It didn't matter what I said, she was going to do it.

We argued about it. Finally, after about a half hour of her pushing me to do her wishes, with no consideration for mine, I told her it would be best if she just found someone else to groom Clancy from then on. At that moment in time, I just didn't have any more to give.

And, we never spoke to each other again. I saw her once at some public function and she wouldn't even look at me.

I don't know what happened. I don't know if she died in a car accident, or had cancer. I don't know the circumstances of her death. I don't know what happened to Clancy Jean. I just know I wasn't there.

And, my heart is full of regret and sadness.

LammasFest 2008 - Part Two

2008-08-09T15:45:00.002-05:00

Friday morning, the first day of LammasFest, began with a phone call.

"It's a girl!" my son's tired voice said. Marsha had delivered Jacelyn at about 0642. They'd had a little bit of time, just the three of them, and then they both began making phone calls.

Kirk said he'd call when they had been transferred from Labor and Delivery over to the Mother-Baby unit. That was fine with me, because I'm pretty sure I'd have been hard put not to bitch slap the unit clerk, and I know darn good and well she didn't want to see Robert, who was working at the store the day she got fired.

I was just getting around to head out to the campsite; Robert was headed in to the rental store to pick up the grill and the other rental items we needed; Devin and I would get going with other set-up things that needed doing.

Registration wasn't to begin until 1400; I was feeling a bit stressed because the event would be running with only three people - Devin, Brandi, and I; Devin has always helped with tear-down but this was his first event as part of the committee, and Brandi was in a similar place, although she'd only attended LammasFest (and her first Pagan event) last year. I think Devin and Brandi felt the same way; I think we all did a good job of hiding our nerves from each other.

We were worried because one of the other committee members was in charge of contacting Pagan groups around the Midwest, Pagan chat groups online, getting flyers out to area businesses and so forth. We found out about two weeks before the event that he had been ill and had not done any of the things he said he would. That included entertainment. We had contracted a Pagan music group to perform, and we'd also planned on having firespinners. The Pagan group bowed out, we were told, and we were unsure about the firespinners right up till Thursday. The committee member informed us he'd gotten some friends of his who had a band to play. The thing was, the group was a country western group - NOT the kind of entertainment that would go over well at a Pagan event. On top of that, they were an "electric" band. We can only have acoustic instruments or something very simple, like one small amplifier.

When we got word of this band, I wrote to the committee member, telling him that he needed to cancel the band and why.

We ended up getting a percussionist who specializes in African drumming. That way we knew we'd have drumming around the campfire in the evenings, at least. If you have at least one good drummer, you can count on everyone else joining right in.

Our first campers arrived late morning. They are regulars at the event, and it was wonderful to see them again. Slowly, people began arriving. We were concerned because without the promotion of the event prior to opening, I think we all had fear that it was going to be a very empty campground. But, the flip side of that was with Marsha and Kirk unavailable, it might not be such a bad thing.

Late morning, I called Kirk. He'd tried to call me a couple of hours earlier to let me know we could come to the hospital to meet our new granddaughter. But, the campground being located where it is, the signal was very sporadic and I still haven't gotten that message from Kirk!

Shortly after we heard from Kirk, Robert and I headed for the hospital to meet our new granddaughter. I didn't get to hold her - she was nestled on a pillow on her mama's lap; she had an IV drip running with antibiotics. I was hot and sweaty from working at the campsite, so I contented myself with touching her, and not adding my filth to whatever clean conditions might remain. Figured I'd get my hands on her on Sunday:)

After we left the hospital, we had to have an argument in the hospital parking ramp about the grocery store. I figured it was easy enough to just stop by on the way back to the campsite and pick up what we needed. R didn't want to go - he really wanted me to drive him 20 minutes back to the house, then drive 20 minutes back into town to the store. So, we had to have a few heated words about that. (I won, btw...for once)

Back at the campsite, I found that the firewood had been delivered, more vendors and campers had arrived. Looked like LammasFest was officially in high gear!

For the rest of the day we checked in people, answered questions, and did the usual stuff. Different folks who've been at the event before pitched in and helped where they could and with whatever they could. What great people!

Our harvest feast is a potluck. We provide the meat and veggie burgers and the fixin's for that; everyone else supplies the rest. It was a good feast. Kirk came out for opening ritual and played the part of High Priest.

The theme of the event was "Enough" I don't have the poem Marsha used as an inspiration - not right now, at least. But, it centers on the idea that society had become enamored of having so much...and we'd be far better off if we just had "enough" - enough food to keep our bellies full, enough money to pay the bills, etc.

Because of the intricacies of the day, the ritual wasn't done quite as planned. No cakes and ale, not much more than comraderie and the starting of the ritual fire and opening of the ritual space, both of which are sacred throughout the event.

Announcements were made, and Kirk asked if there was anything else that needed to be said. I had a flash of inspiration. I told him I had something I'd like to say.

I turned to Fred, who was standing next to me, gave him a hug and said, "Fred, I wish you enough." Then I whispered to him to pass it on. And, wishes for enough were passed around the circle, ending up with Kirk and I hugging. Of course, then I cried. It was about time for some stress relief!

Drums were brought out, and the drumming began. We drummed until midnight, and then everyone headed for their tents to crash. It was a wonderful day

I'll start my post on the rest of the event and get it posted as soon as it's finished.

LammasFest 2008 - Part One

2008-08-08T13:12:00.005-05:00

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...

2008-08-06T20:52:00.007-05:00

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!

2008-08-01T08:00:00.004-05:00

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...

2008-07-30T23:32:00.002-05:00

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

2008-07-27T19:43:00.004-05:00

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.

2008-07-23T15:43:00.002-05:00

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

Be at peace, Little Angel.

Technical Writing Revisited

2008-07-22T22:02:00.002-05:00

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.

News From the Nursery Lab 2008-9

2008-07-21T22:34:00.002-05:00

When a nurse needs a break...

I stepped into a room toward the end of last week, a baby in Bay 1. Bay 1, is, for those of you who may not know, the place where the sickest of babies reside. These are the babies who require the most care.

Cat was already in the room. She's one of my favorite nurses, one of those who I really didn't like at first, mostly because she didn't seem to like me. But a common love of hand crafts got us talking and now we are both tickled when we see we're both working.

"Mornin', Cat."

"Hi, Kate." she said with her back turned from me.

"Okay for me to draw?"

"Yeah. Better yet, why don't you just take over and I'll go home, permanently."

Huh? Now, that was an odd thing to say, and I said as much to her.

"Oh, Kate, I'm so tired of all this." She gestured around the room, filled with machines that made various noises in weird syncopated rhythms. And then she gestured helplessly at the wee body in the crib.

"I don't know why we keep doing what we do."

So, as my hands follow muscle memory routine of pulling out the items I need for the draw, I glanced at Cat's face, and found tears hovering in her eyes, threatening to cascade down her cheeks.

She had care of two of the sickest babies in the unit that night. Those two were both having nights that would challenge the most patient of nursing staff.

Nurses don't get much of a break on nights like that. As soon as you get one babe settled, the other starts. It weaves back and forth throughout the night, almost as if they were tag-teaming each other.

This little guy was having a rough night. He's blind and deaf; he's hydrocephalic, and spastic. His body siezes, and even when it's not in active siezure, it's moving, jerking, one minute the small limbs beating a tattoo against the bedding, the next flailing wildly in the air. You can't tell if he's in pain. The movement is so constant there are no markers to give much in the way of visible signs.

The other baby in her charge was no better. While not the same symptoms, that little one is in desperate need of a liver transplant if she is to survive. The odds of that happening are virtually nil. So, she's heavily sedated, and lots of blood is drawn throughout the day to monitor liver function, but also her heart. Then they hang blood for a transfusion because so much is being drawn for labs. It's a vicious circle.

I became Cat's ear for the next half hour or so. The things she said to me would probably not been popular topics with much of the nursing staff.

We talked about a few of these babies and their illnesses. The baby who we stood next to won't have much of a life. And, her other charge, is, to be quite honest, pretty much doomed not to have a whole lot of time on the earth.

There's a tiny part of us, our inner child, perhaps, that hangs onto that thread of hope for a miracle. We want to be able to fix all those small bodies.

As it turns out, Cat and I both question why. Yet, we both continue to hang onto that hope.

This particular night, though, Cat was on the warpath. It was a helpless warpath for her, and she vented her frustration at me. She told me two things that shocked me. One was something I won't repeat here; the other was that full disclosure of a prognosis is not always given to the parents.

That means that the messenger is not giving ALL the information to the parents. The parents of both of Cat's charges apparently have not been told their children have a limited lifetime. They are being given false hope that everything will be okay, that it just takes time.

This isn't right. While it may be shocking for a parent to hear, they need to know up front what is going on medically. They need to know an absolute prognosis. NICU parents need to learn to ask the question, "Is my baby going to die?"

The sad answer in some cases is, "Yes."

If the answer is yes, then parents need to be told what their baby is feeling. They need to be told that the kid is zonked with morphine because it is in so much pain that morphine is the only thing that will take it away. They need to understand that the intubation is forcing the baby to breathe sometimes, and life would cease if the tubes were removed.

We need to think back 30 years, 50 years, even more to whether or not babies would live without the medical marvels we've achieved. Should we be keeping them alive if they can't *ever* maintain their own life support?

I'm not saying we should routinely dispose of these precious beings - don't even think that. I think it's wonderful we can create a miracle for parents whose babies have decided to be born at 24 weeks of gestation. I think every bit of fight we give them is well worth the effort, and repair of things we can fix is the absolute right thing to do and SHOULD be done.

But, a child who has no hope? Is it fair to keep them alive when their body cannot sustain life without mechanical means?

I wrote about a baby recently who has no brain function. She's still in the NICU, hooked up to machines that keep her alive. Her mother stays at the hospital 24/7. Dad is seldom seen. This baby is due to go to a facility in another state for people who are profoundly brain damaged. This baby is being taken care of by the taxpayers now in the state she was born; in a few weeks she'll become the ward of another state and be taken care of the taxpayers in that state. She's moving to another state because the one facility capable of taking her in this state will have no openings for AT LEAST one year, perhaps longer. And, financially, it will be far less expensive to care for her at a facility elsewhere than to take up expensive NICU space.

In this case, the parents just plain don't get it. They honestly think that somehow the hospital will be able to create a brain where there isn't any. They are very young parents, not from this country, and they think the USA is a miraculous place that can fix every ill because it's the USA. So, their baby will be fixed, too, right? No. There's no possible way for that to happen. There was a point where, if the parents were made to understand, it would have been possible for some good to come from this. Though they would have lost their child, other children would have had a chance to find their miracles through harvesting the organs of this child when it crossed. But, it's too late now. There've been too many infections, too many drugs to make harvesting possible.

I can't help but think we're the ones, we of the medical profession, who have dropped the ball on this one...and several others.

I'm not saying that all children should be perfect. I'm saying that sometimes babies are born whose time on earth is limited and "do no harm" does not necessarily mean "keep alive by any means possible".

Cat and I talked about God, that night, too. We talked about "intelligent design" too. What we talked about would take too long to put down right now. It's something that I'll write about another time. Right now, my body requires either chocolate or sleep. And, since there's no chocolate in the house, I guess I should go sleep.

Cat is away on a much needed vacation for a couple of weeks. I hope she's having a marvelous time in the far away state she's visiting. She needs the break. I hope she comes back refreshed and a little easier in her mind. We need nurses like her.

And, I'll be taking a few days off in a couple of weeks myself, to find some air and fire, some spiritual renewal. I think I'm due for it, too.

See you next time.

Kate

Automation and the USPS

2008-07-16T21:43:00.002-05:00

From this title, one could sum up the blog post in a paragraph. The US Postal Service has become so automated that no longer can we expect all mail to go through in a timely manner.

Some of it that arrives at my house is no longer going to go through. Period.

Why?

Because I'm done with this particular frustration. I no longer give a shit whether it's legal or not to open up someone else's mail. And by someone else, I mean a someone who is not a member of my household.

You see, for the last couple of years we've been getting mail addressed to a dentist in another city. The street address to her office happens to be exactly the same as my street address, but the city is different...and twenty miles away.

A second oddity is that the zip codes to the two cities are one digit different. One ends in 17, and the other in 27. Easy enough for someone to mis-type.

The final oddity is that the dentist herself resides in the same city as I do, but at an address totally dissimilar to mine.

When we first began getting this mail, it was a matter of putting the envelope back in the box notated that it needed to go to the other city.

But that must have been when she was first beginning her business. Now we get several pieces of mail a week. We get x-rays. We get insurance checks.

How do I know this? Because I open them and look, knowing full well I'm breaking the law.

Since I'm normally a law-abiding citizen, I'll tell you more of the tale.

As more and more mail came to my house, I looked closer and saw that the zip code was wrong. The mail was, indeed, coming to the correct street address and zip code - never mind that the city was completely mismatched. It seemed that one doesn't even have to put the city on the envelope, as the street and zip code will be the only things looked at by the post office.

So, I began gathering up the mail and once a week or so, I'd deliver it to the post office after correcting the zip code.

But then, I discovered that the guys in brown also had the wrong address when I received flowers on Valentine's Day that were not for me, but for her...and delivered here.

Things seemed to slow down for a few months with little mail to her being delivered with my mail. When autumn began, mail also increased. I began my trips to the post office again.

By Christmas I was angry. A lot of this stuff looked like junk mail. So, one day I opened up one of the envelopes and found several hundred dollars worth of checks made out to the dentist. I looked up her phone number and called her.

And got voice mail. Several hours later, I received a phone call from her. To make things even more pleasant, she has one of those voices that are fingernails on the chalkboard. *shudders* Talking to her on the phone is painful. I'd hate to be her patient! I can't imagine having to listen to both her AND the dental drill!

Anyway, I explained the situation, apologized for opening her mail and she was not angry that I did so under the circumstances. She was in another state on vacation over the holidays and asked if I could hold the mail till she returned home.

When she picked the mail up, I showed her that the zip code was wrong, and suggested that she contact her vendors and correct the error so she'd receive her payments in a timely manner. She said she would do so.

She hasn't. We've had to call her on several occasions to ask her to pick up her mail. She even asked us if we could drop the mail off at her house if it was inconvenient when they could drop by our house.

Robert made an effort to stay home one day to hand off the mail and they never showed up.

Enough is enough. I'm opening every piece of mail that arrives here, calling the vendors and insurance agents myself and requesting they change the zip code so the mail will be delivered properly and promptly to her.

I'm not calling her to tell her the mail is here, either. She can call me when she realizes that money should be coming in and has not gotten to her. She can have the checks reissued when she figures it out.

I don't care if she whines to me in that gawd-awful voice that her secretary fucked up and didn't do the job. It's her income, not mine and I've done my best to help make her business work. But, she needs to address (no pun intended) the issue and get her business places notified.

How to Shock a Wrong Number...

2008-07-12T21:18:00.002-05:00

who thinks they have the RIGHT number.

Coming home from a "me" time slot, my cell phone rang.

What? Twice in one afternoon? It's a new world record!!!

For the record, Tracey called me - and by the way, Tracey, I couldn't give the girl doing my pedicure your message because it was a guy.

The second call was a surprise because many days go by without a single phone call. But, there it was, ringing once more.

I flipped it open.

"Hello, is Robert there?"

Robert? The Luddite? The person who thinks cell phones are the scourge of Satan? Why the hell would someone be asking for him?

"Nooooooo...." I said in a puzzled tone. "He seldom uses this phone. Who is this?"

"This is (garbled, bad signal sounds)"

"I'm sorry, I couldn't hear you. Who did you say this was?"

"This is Reverend Mary Something-or-other of (garbled, bad signal sounds)."

"Who?"

"Reverend Mary Something-or-other of the (garbled sounds) Church."

To say I was startled was an understatement. For a brief, panic-stricken moment I wondered if this was a chaplain assisting at one of the local emergency rooms, and was trying to notify Robert that one of the kids were in an accident or something.

I gave my head a little shake, brows furrowed, while I tried to think of some other reason why a church minister would be calling my cell phone. I don't give out my cell number; those of you who may have it are definitely on my "A" list, so to speak. If you don't have it, you've probably not called my land line with enough regularity to deserve knowing where to find me when I'm not at home.

"May I ask how you got this number?"

"Robert gave it to me."

Okay, now this is just really strange. Robert hates the cell phone, he has no idea what the number is to the thing, although he does recognize it when it comes across the caller ID. Hell, *I* don't even remember the number most of the time without looking because I never call it, either, and it's not my primary phone!

But since Robert has had an extraordinary week in which he's found out a very odd woman who engaged him in conversation when he was walking the dogs and took a picture of him with the dogs has posted that picture on the 'Net, has another woman seem to run into him when he's out walking the dogs late in the evening, and had a man make a pass at him at the Guess Who concert last week, I'm figuring that this is yet one more weird thing that has his name attached to him somehow.

"Ummmm...Why did Robert give you this phone number?"

Her reply just about made me drive my brand new Jeep into the water retention pond next to the mall.

"He gave me the phone number when he filled out all the paperwork when he joined our church."

Whisky.

Tango.

Foxtrot.

?????

"He did WHAT???"

She replied slowly like she was talking to a very dimwitted child.

"He gave me this number when he joined our church."

Now I'm not saying that this isn't possible. But, believe me, Robert joining a church would be highly unlikely.

"Uh, when he joined your church? Excuse me, but please tell me what phone number you're trying to call."

"(area code)xxx-xxxx."

Yup, that checks out.

"You know, Reverend, I just find it very unlikely that Robert would join a church."

Her tone gets a bit stern. I can almost imagine her gathering herself into sermon mode.

"Nevertheless, he filled out paperwork and has joined our church."

Boy, am I ever looking forward to having a chat with Robert when I get home!

"Reverend, would you mind giving me the last name of Robert before we continue this conversation any further?"

"Robert's last name is Manning."

BINGO!

I started grinning. I wish I'd have taken a few more seconds to think about this as I could have had a whole lot of fun with the rest of this phone call, but ya know...I blew it.

"Reverend, I'm really afraid that you've been given a wrong number. It's just ironic, though, that you've called my phone, and my spouse's name happens to be Robert. Unfortunately, Manning is not our last name. And, I'm quite sure that Robert hasn't joined your church because...well...I'm quite sure your church would not be interested in having us as members."

She begins to protest my stance.

"No, no, our church is open to everyone."

"Uh, I don't believe that's quite true. You see, Robert and I are Pagans. Churches generally aren't interested in the likes of us."

I could almost hear her teeth snap from the rebound as the bounce of her jaw hitting the floor brought her chops back together.

Yup, I was right. She's definitely not open-minded enough to want a Pagan in her church. Her loss.

And, my laugh for the day.

It's Not an Urban Legend

2008-07-11T11:58:00.002-05:00

I know because it just happened to me!

Many of you know that a couple of years ago I was responsible for the care of my aunt. She had given me power of attorney to handle her affairs, but the attorney she hired was a shyster and my aunt was convinced he could do no wrong, so the attorney claimed she was not in her right mind and could not sign the legal documents to actually give me the ability to sign her checks, pay her bills, etc. I was POA in name only.

Time has passed and the estates are long settled. I checked my post office box today and found a whole bunch of mail addressed to my aunt. The light bulb clicked on once again, and I decided to open up all these pieces of mail and call the individual places to tell them my aunt was deceased. All was done quickly and efficiently.

The last letter was addressed to my uncle in care of my address. My uncle has been dead for almost 25 years.

The letter was from a collection agency, offering a settlement for a debt. It took me three tries to get someone to talk with me in a reasonable tone. So, I have nothing but nice things to say to the third lady who listened to the explanation, and wrote a lengthy description of the problem which she read back to me for approval.

While I had her on the phone, I asked her if she would mind taking my complaint about the first two calls I made. She said she would be glad to pass them on.

My first call was answered by a man who sounded like he was troubled by a mass resembling a cob lodged in a place the sun doesn't shine. He was unable to help me, so he transferred my call to a voice mail number - the voice sounded suspiciously like the same man I was talking to. The voice message said callers were to call back because he wasn't in the office, but left nothing in the way of days or hours to call, or if he'd return the calls.

That's when I tried for the second time.

Call number two went something like this:

"This is Miss Consuelo Martinez, how can I help you?"

"Miss Martinez, I'm calling about a letter I received in my mail today. It was addressed to my uncle and it's regarding a debt which your company is trying to collect. I wanted to let you know that my uncle has been dead over 20 years and I have no means to do anything with this particular thing. I'm certain I received this because I had power of attorney for my aunt who has since passed away, and both her estate and my uncle's have long been settled. I thought perhaps you would like to know this so you can get this off your books in whatever way those things have to be done."

"Well, that's just NOT going to happen until this bill is paid!"

"There's no way for the bill to be paid now. The estate has been settled for over 20 years. It's not my debt to pay and so these letters need to stop coming to me."

"You're going to have to pay the debt."

"No, I'm not. I'm just doing you a courtesy to let you know that you're wasting time, money and postage trying to collect this. As I said, my uncle's estate has been settled for a good many years, and his widow's estate has been settled for almost two years now."

"Well, if you're not going to pay the debt, then you need to have your uncle call us and explain that to us."

WTF???

"Miss Martinez, my uncle CAN'T call you because he's DEAD!"

"That doesn't matter! You have him call us and take care of this at once!"

And she slammed the phone down in my ear.

Anyone have John Edward's phone number? I think I'm going to need his help to get my uncle in touch with Miss Martinez.

News From the Nursery Lab 2008-8

2008-07-10T22:42:00.003-05:00

I KNEW it couldn't last!

This is not a tale of babies, but of personnel. Yup, in its simplest form, a bitch session.

Finally - Finally! we have put together a good working team in our nursery and critical care lab. This is due, in part, I will braggingly say, because of the excellent training the new people have had.

And, until about three weeks ago, it's been delightful because my boss is a good man.

Unfortunately, he's now found a new orifice to stick his head into. And, I guess he's not getting enough sunlight, so to speak.

My boss is being an absolute ass.

Personally, I can put up with people when they go through times when you'd swear legal steps had been taken to change their middle name to Asshole. What I have a huge issue with is when it affects the whole team of people I work with.

He's thinking about applying for a new job, a nice promotion. And, I think it's quite possible that he's being groomed for that position by his supervisor who, unfortunately, he must deal with. She is one of those who believes that being nice to those who work with you is not an option, instead preferring to terrorize and intimidate. I'm guessing Supervisor Beeotch has laid the law down to my boss, telling him he needs to whip his people into shape.

So, in the last three weeks he's intimidated (for about two seconds) the two newest employees. One who had knee replacement in December was called in for taking too much time off and being cited for "excessive absenteeism". He was doing this on the orders of Supervisor Beeotch, of course, who called the offending team members in. Unfortunately, with the first, they both forgot that she'd been working at BHTS for several years, and she conveniently couldn't meet with them when they tried to shanghai her into meeting. She got in touch with the union rep, and suddenly the meeting was called off...there was this little thing called the Family Leave Act which her time off was covered by.

The next employee had a similar fate. She was a contract transfer into the position. Her previous supervisor was pissed because she applied for the job without consulting with the supervisor. It's all legal - she didn't have to check with her supervisor before doing so. And, thus, the supervisor gave my boss a bad reference about her, making my supervisor leery of her. You see, a contract transfer gets the job regardless of who else applies. It's not always right, but that's the system. And, she's a good worker as well, and most everyone enjoys her. Again, she was being cited for excessive absenteeism. She was told that her doctor's excuses didn't mean a hill of beans because she really couldn't have been sick or needed the time off. Now...please understand that at BHTS we have to have time available to take off. We use comp time, sick leave or vacation time, all of which are already earned. The only time we can skip those options is when Family Leave Act is used, and that's simply because it gives an option for time off without pay and a guarantee your job will be held for you.

Once we got through this mess, another mess comes to make things interesting. We have a "subversive" in our group. One of the newer employees - my first trainee in NICU - is the culprit. It's taken us a bit of time to put it all together, but she's not very careful about hiding her attacks.

She is trying to be the fair haired child to the boss. She's running to him with any little thing she feels is wrong with the department. She was overheard to say to one of the Lab Scientists that she was the boss's "favorite".

I mean, how junior high can we get here? Thing is, he's believing what she tells him without checking the facts. He's mad at one employee because he was told she didn't show up to work on time, when in fact she had been early and had gone immediately to work on Bay 5 which was swamped and Miss Pet had not seen her, so of course she must have been late. The employee countered this by pulling out all the reqs with her initials and timestamp on them.

Today the other employee had gotten called to the overflow mother-baby unit to draw three babies, and this had left no lab tech in NICU. Some draws were needed and the Lab Scientist called for Miss Pet to come upstairs and help with the draws. She went running to the Boss and told him that the employee could not handle being in the NICU alone. Odd, isn't it, when the tech was not even on the floor, but was doing her job SOMEWHERE ELSE?

I'm in the doghouse because I went home early today; I injured my back a few days ago and needed medical treatment, but this left Miss Pet alone instead of the other tech being with her in Critical Care. My boss was angry with me when I told him I needed to go home well over half the shift was done. And, I didn't grovel and beg to go home. I informed him I was going and handed him the paperwork to sign. Too bad.

Now, to make this even more interesting, Miss Pet has a twin sister who also works in our department. Nepotism is not a good thing in most cases. It is my opinion that family members can work in the same place, but should not be in the same department. Again, this happened at a time when I was not in a position to comment, but only train. I had reservations about them then, and this situation reinforces it even more. The twins and Little Mary Sunshine (remember her?) all get together every morning and have a "shred" fest. They make no secret of talking about each and every person in the lab, making fun of them, in short, finding fault and gossiping about them *with intent* if that makes sense.

The good of this is that Little Mary Sunshine is moving back home next week, so we'll have one less of her type to contend with.

The bad of this is that all three of us who work on days are disgusted enough to start looking for other employment because of this bullshit. We all three left our last positions because of this sort of garbage and were thrilled to have a boss like ours. But now...it's just plain miserable at the moment, even though we all love our work, but not our jobs.

Time for a Change

2008-07-10T22:13:00.002-05:00

I decided to go back to my original blog template for awhile. I am just tired of the old one; as much as I love the picture, I just had the feeling that a lot of my readership has been down, or lost due to a: the difficulty of reading the smaller font on the previous template, b: my lack of regular posting, and c: that I'm boring the snot out of my readers.

It's probably all those things combined, actually!

Not only that, I have been loving the blogs of the folks I read all the time and want to rework my blog friends list so people who stop by here can go visit others I like; the reverse to that is I also had folks who I thought to "honor" in that group of folks I read each day (and sometimes check back in several times during the day), but they've never given me the courtesy of checking out my blog or leaving a comment if they do.

I'll never have the readership of Ambulance Driver or LawDog, but I do like to think that it's not a waste of time to stop by and comment here every once in awhile! Admittedly, one of the reasons I write this blog is because I'm an attention junkie and I like the feedback. But, mainly it's such a wonderful way for me to keep my friends up on my doings. I appreciate it when you all stop by!

Now, lest you wonder about this post, I had one of those light bulb moments at the meeting I've just returned from. It's a regular meeting of an organization I've been part of for several years. I've bent over backwards to do my part for this organization, always feeling like I've just not quite measured up - but at tonight's meeting the attendees consisted of the "newer" group of members; none of the original members were there. It was amazing to see that we got a lot of things accomplished because we didn't have to fight that nefarious creature called "The Past", aka "We've Never Dont That Before" and "We Don't Like the Sound of That". I felt hope bubbling up from somewhere - hope that I might be able to make an effort and get someplace with this group.

It carried over to the blog. I decided I no longer had to dance attendance on things *I* was unhappy about. Sure, I knew I could do that, but once a "service" person, always a service person! I'm used to trying to please others first instead of myself, and it's time I quit doing that ALL the time.

So, my friends list will be back as soon as I remember how to get it there; don't think I don't love you anymore - I just have to get a little geekdom conversation going first!

Problems with the "Green" Movement

2008-07-06T17:16:00.004-05:00

I just don't know. Lots of us are trying to save the planet with the means we have to do so. This can involve car pooling, using muscle power instead of fossil fuels for short trips.

It could mean a healthier nation in the long run.

One of the things that I like is the utilization of recyclable grocery bags, like this:

You can pack more groceries in these; it's like a return to the day when brown paper sacks were the norm. But these bags save trees, and eliminate the gawd-awful plastic bags, made from petroleum products, which never seemed to be packed properly, and so far more were sent home with fewer items in each. With petroleum prices skyrocketing, it'll soon cost us ten bucks a bag for those things. (Yes, I'm exaggerating - I hope!)

So, I hope we can all get used to taking recyclable bags with us when we go shopping. It will do something to help save our planet, even if it's a small thing.

But, what worries me is that an energy crisis may promote better physical health, but what about intelligence?

Maybe it's me. I'm having a real BIG problem with one of the bags I brought home.

Did someone change the Crayola Box while I wasn't looking???

Kate

Jude's One Smart Cookie....

2008-07-05T23:05:00.005-05:00

Of course, we already knew that!

But, what I'm referring to is my recent post about losing a Love.

No, I'm not a swinging bisexual, as Lainy and Tracey might think, with a Lady Love on the side - well...not a human one, anyway! Okay, Jude, what gave it away? I think I know, but do tell!

I had to say goodbye last week to Calleigh, my 1998 Jeep Wrangler. She was my refuge in many a storm, rhetorically speaking. I bought her with some of the money my Mom left me when she passed away. I'd decided I needed something I could count on to make me happy, because losing Mom made me come close to losing it, as Orion and Two Wolves will undoubtedly attest.

Prior to purchasing Calleigh, I drove a 1990 Mazda van. Very nice vehicle, and a pleasure to drive. But, I needed something "fun" in my life. And TW introduced me to the joys of Jeeping after he bought his Jeep. A weekend with the wind blowing my hair into knots brought more peace to my sad and tortured mind than I'd felt for awhile; I decided a Jeep needed to be a vital part of my life. And, I began looking. And soon she came to live with me.

Fast forward five years. Calleigh is still a spry young woman, nearly ten years old, with low enough miles that I needed to decide whether or not to spend extensive money on fixing her up or to think about trading her in. Her front end connected with a deer, and bruised her up some, and last February's accident had broken her hip up a bit, but she kept right on loving and taking care of me. And, I still feel guilty that it was time to move forward with a hard decision.

You see, I made a mistake one evening of driving through the car dealer's lot to drool over the new 4-door Wranglers. Talk about LUST! I wanted one of those. I drove one and wanted it even more. And, then I began crunching numbers to see what possibilities there might be.

Pretty much slim and none. No effing way in Hades I wanted a car payment like that! So, I simmered down, deciding to wait another year or so until some 4-doors hit the used lots. Then I'd consider one.

But, on one of my drool trips, we decided to compare prices of the 4-doors to the regular Wranglers. Not surprisingly, there wasn't a whole lot of difference, maybe around $4K. So, I figured this round of car lust was done for a year and prepared to head for home. Then we saw a couple of used Wranglers on down the row.

Turned out one of 'em was a 2006 Wrangler Unlimited. That's a Jeep which is a little bigger than Calleigh. In fact, it sits on the same sort of wheel base as the 4-doors. It has a bit more cargo space and more back seat room. And, joy of joys, it had a hard top and full doors with real windows. (One feature of Calleigh I hated, was the rag-top zipper windows. They're a pain in the arse in a Midwestern winter, believe me.) And someone had forgotten to lock the cargo area in the Unlimited, so I peaked inside and saw...a RAG-TOP. The best of both worlds when you own a Wrangler. Summer AND winter driving!

A peak at the car dealer's website revealed the price and the mileage. This beauty only had 11,500 miles on it (thereabouts). I held out a couple more weeks and decided to drive her.

And then the blood lust began.

This Jeep is awesome! Not only does she have low miles, she's also loaded (for a Jeep, that is). Straight 6 engine, six speed transmission, bells and whistles I certainly didn't expect...like cruise control...fancy dome lights, a dimming night vision rear view mirror, a radio with a five CD changer and SEVEN speakers. And quite a few other cool things.

And that rag-top? I think it's called a SunCruiser. Of course I can have the rag-top completely 'down', as weather permits, but this model also gives me the option of folding back the first third of the rag-top for a sunroof effect - a far easier way for me to get more sunshine in my life!

So, after a trip to the bank, I got things figured out. And last week, I said goodbye to my first Love and brought home my new (to me) girl. I'm sure I'll be totally besotted with her by summer's end. I hope so, anyway, for Calleigh is already gone to another home, helped, I'm sure, by all those folks who lost their cars in the flood. I hope she'll be a good Love for someone else.

Anyway, I'd like to introduce you to my new Jeep. She's beautiful, and I've been instructed that I'm not to get upset if she's not "prettified" all the time. But, a girl has to look spiffy sometimes, doncha know?

Here she is. Let me introduce you to Skye. She may not look so great in this shot because I was trying to get pictures of her before a thunderstorm hit - we were expecting hail and since I have no garage to hide her in, I wanted to get some pictures prior to potential hail damage! I'll take some more pics on a brighter day when I have the hard top off and the top down so you can see her a bit better.

Kate

After the Flood

2008-07-01T22:40:00.002-05:00

Those readers of this blog know that I live near the flood zone in the midwest. While I wasn't affected on a deeply personal level, no home damage, no loss of family or possessions, I still want to tell you a story related to the flood.

I want to tell you what it was like the first day my usual route to work was opened up after the flood waters went down.

As you know, it's still dark when I go to work. My job begins at 4 a.m., so I'm on the road in the dark of night - about 0330. I take a state highway into Coralville and turn east onto what is fondly known as the Coralville Strip. In the last few years the city has done some road work and landscaping, making it an attractive roadway. It's lined with trees and shrubs, some just greenery, others blooming. In the holiday season, the trees are decorated with white lights and it's very festive looking.

I'm sure you saw the pictures of the Strip during all the news reports about the flood. The water was several feet deep - two to four feet mostly, with pockets of deeper water in places. Of course sandbags were piled high and utility power was out.

The first day I was able once again to take my normal route, it was just plain creepy. First of all, it was horrible to smell - all those restaurants along the way brought scents of coffee, and spices, garbage and grease, mixed with the residue of fish and muck that had been picked up along the way. The parts of the Strip on higher ground still had electricity, so as I came into town, things seemed pretty normal, other than the signs that stated the road was only one lane each direction.

As I glanced up the road, I saw a sight that was enough to make me shudder.

You are now entering the Twilight Zone was the thought that popped into my brain.

It was like a black hole, a fathomless darkness that would swallow you up. It appeared that a giant someone had taken a sharp object and simply cut a line across the city, effectively creating a drop off point. A person couldn't help but wonder if there was a road where that darkness began.

I really wanted to slow down to creep cautiously into that blackness. It was so empty looking that I thought any number of things might be lurking there. It was so black it swallowed the Jeep's lights, making it look like a World War II vehicle with blackout lights. I couldn't see the side of the road. I could barely see what normally are the bright orange cones and barrels that construction places use to guide intrepid travelers through the work zones.

It felt like it took hours to drive that half-mile or so to my turn. I was certainly glad I didn't have to drive in a situation like that for very long.

Now, roughly ten days later, there are spots of light here and there on that part of the Strip. A couple of places still have strobe lights blinking - the remains of their emergency alarm systems run amok. Now I can smell the beginning of decay coupled with the flood smells. Parts of the road are simply filthy and in some places wet so mud can spray your vehicle. It's definitely a time to wear heavy shoes when washing the vehicles; the dirt that gets washed away cannot be safe to be barefoot in. At least, not in my opinion!

News From the Nursery Lab 2008-7

2008-06-28T20:51:00.002-05:00

It's my belief that a working person needs to be aware of their surroundings all the time. Not only is this because of safety, or any number of other things, but because occasionally you just might learn something.

In my work career I've found that listening to as much as you can gives you insight to more things than your own little bubble. I try to listen to everything - what the docs are saying about the patients, what the nurses are talking about as they sit at their computers, what co-workers might be griping about, and everything in between.

In a NICU such as ours, we see things that are not common. Such was the case today.

Because I try to listen to everything, sometimes I catch something that isn't simply idle gossip.

I was heading back to the lab after seeing a patient, and noticed the PA and one of my favorite RN's discussing something. As I passed by, I heard two words put together that I never had even thought of together.

Ambiguous genitalia.

What? What in the hell is that? Of course, I figured out several things fairly quickly that it might be.

It wasn't too long before I found myself in one of the RN's patient rooms.

"Hey, I want to ask you about something you were talking to Jean about."

"What's that?"

"She said "ambiguous genitalia" and I'd like to know what that means for sure.

He said, "It means we're not sure what sex a baby is."

I'm sure my jaw dropped. I mean, I know babies can be born with both sets of genitalia, but for some reason I hadn't thought it out past that. Suddenly ambiguous sounded almost neuter, like looking at the lower half of Ken and Barbie dolls.

The next thing he said was, "Do you want to see?"

"YES!" I said.

So, he undid the diaper and pulled it down and showed me everything.

The condition is called a "Cloacal Malformation". It happens in approximately 1 in 25,000 births. While there is some variance, in this case it means that something went haywire at the time when XX and XY were trying to decide which way to go. And, they made a decision chromosomally, but physically never quite got the message across. The baby is definitely a little girl - the testing resulted in definite XX chromosomes. And, there were no testes present. But first glance makes you think the child has a very tiny penis. But in this case it is a clitoris exposed, with no labia surrounding it.

That's only the physical part that can be seen, though. What is deeply serious about cloacal malformation is the confluence of the of the rectum, vagina, and urethra into a single common channel.

A colostomy had to be had to be done shortly after birth. Kidney function had to be restored in some way so somehow the kidney or bladder (I was so amazed at hearing all this I don't remember) was brought to the skin surface and somehow it is disposing of urinary waste by oozing into the diaper. I think dialysis is being done, too.

Eventually, surgeries will be done to repair all these things so the baby can have normal waste elimination, and her girl parts will be be repaired to be more normal looking and make it possible for normalcy when that stage of her life arrives.

I asked the RN if he'd ever seen something like this before. He said he had, but until now only once. That's when he quoted me the statistic of how this happens in only about 1 in 25,000 births.

And then he told me that not only did we have this child born with cloacal malformation, but the baby in the next room, who is not related, not from the same town, etc. was also born with the same thing.

It's horrible and yet oddly fascinating.

Kate

Losing an Old Love

2008-06-27T21:06:00.003-05:00

It's hard to say goodbye to an old love. Especially when it's the kind of love that's spelled with a capital "L". An old Love.

I said farewell to an old Love yesterday. It nearly broke my heart to do so. So many hours were spent in her company; many times she was the only thing that stood between dark and bitter moodiness, and being able to take a deep breath, exhale, and begin to find pleasure in life once more.

I've said goodbye to her three times this week, preparing myself in steps to accept this loss. I've talked about her incessantly, remembering the good times for the most part, occasionally speaking of times that weren't so pleasant.

I said my private, words said aloud goodbye to her while sitting quietly in a parking lot. I admitted to her that she'd been one of the few who'd made me happy in the last few years, and that I really hated to see her go, but I knew there was little time left. I took some time to look at her carefully one last time, savoring her scent, looking at the imperfections that only added to her character. I rubbed my hands over her, here and there, grasping some places, delicately touching others, memorizing what each part touched felt like.

Our final goodbye was last night. It was about an hour from sunset and once again I found myself in a public place, unable to dare to let tears well up in my eyes, lest anyone see and suspect the great Love I felt. And the loss in these final minutes sucked into me so hard I almost felt numb with the sadness of it all. But I couldn't let it show.

When the time came to part, there was nothing left but to take one last hard look, my eyes hard and steely with the determination not to weep. I closed my eyes for just a moment, feeling the tears lurking in spite of my resolve.

And I turned and walked away. I didn't look back.

"Spring" Photo Contest

2008-06-27T08:05:00.003-05:00

It's that time again! All entries are up and posted at Stardom Awaits. Voting will be open for two weeks. Only one vote per person, please!

All entries are excellent this month - it's really hard to decide whose picture is best. Our theme, "Spring" celebrates our happiness that winter is done! But don't take my word for it! Take a look and vote for your favorite!

Here are the pics I *didn't* enter in the contest.

"Flower 'Midst the Thorns"

"Impatiens for Spring"

"Eagle Spring"

If you like these, you'll really like the entries in the contest. Go check it out!

Kate

Found On A Scrap Of Paper

2008-06-20T14:08:00.002-05:00

While cleaning the kitchen table off today (the day will come when I can eat meals on the thing) I found a scrap of paper with something that touched my heart when it was said. I no longer remember where I got it or if it was on a tv show I saw, but that doesn't matter. What matters are the words. I'd like to give all of you these words, because I want you to know this, even if I don't often seem to notice or care. I do.

We need a witness to our lives

Your life will not go unnoticed because I will notice it.

Your life will not go unnoticed because I will witness it.

Solstice Blessings to you all.

Kate

Finished AND Delivered

2008-06-20T12:59:00.004-05:00

Thought I'd show y'all what my latest finished project was. I say was because it's been washed, dried, packaged and as of this morning, delivered. TW saw it when it was almost finished - 'bout blinded the boy, it did...or so he said. *grins*

Anyway, the babe it's for was born early; I'd started the blanket as a knitting project, didn't like the pattern, so I ripped it out, taught myself to crochet one weekend, and made this little blanket for use in the car. I love the bright colors, and I have no doubt that they'll be able to find it on the floor of the car when it's dark; that was my intent anyhow!

I hope the parents like the thing. I'm sure the baby will - kids do like bright colors!

I'll let you know what the parents think when I find out. R delivered it this morning as the gift was for his boss's new little girl.

And the Winner Is....

2008-06-13T21:42:00.003-05:00

Our first photo contest was a tremendous success! Thank you to all who voted.

The theme for the contest was "Patriotism". Orion was the winner, with Rhonda Elizabeth's picture a very close second! Our next contest theme is "Spring". I'll let you know when you can go vote for your favorite pictures!

Congratulations to Orion and Rhonda Elizabeth!

From the mouths of five year olds

2008-06-10T23:10:00.002-05:00

One of the nurses has a five year old son. She says that keeping him entertained makes it necessary to be quite inventive.

So, when her son decided that it just wasn't possible to go swimming without wearing underpants *under* his trunks, his mother went along with it.

Apparently this is nothing new. He's been doing this since he was probably around three years old or so. Everyone in the family is accustomed to it.

As it was quite hot and humid over the weekend, the nurse and family decided to take a small trip to one of the local lakes for some swimming.

As they prepared for the trip, she asked her son if he wanted to wear underpants with his swimming trunks.

He looked at her seriously and replied, "No, Mom, I'm just going to wear my penis today."

Is it because of the puppy?

2008-06-10T15:17:00.011-05:00

We're looking at a trend. Every time we get a brand new puppy, there's a flood.

In 1993, we brought home our first Springer Spaniel pup - one Shaharazod's Nitestorm - my beautiful Libby. Her "formal" AKC name was due, in part, to the fact that she spent her first night here when the storms began which contributed to the flood of 1993.

So...we bring another puppy home 15 years later. This time a bigger dog...my Standard Poodle, Hannah. And, here we are, in the midst of another major flood which appears to be even bigger than the flood of '93.

I'm not certain I should bring any more puppies home. My choices all seem to be weather connected!

Anyway, to those of you who drop by from time to time to read my ramblings, we're safe. No danger from the flood itself, although I'm sure we could get killed from an errant gawker or two. Of course, I could step off a curb, gawking, and get hit by a bus.

We went out to inspect the major impact point last night and I took the video camera along. These are not great videos by any means, but simply a way to share some of the same stuff you're gonna see on national news reports or the Weather Channel; only these are simply not polished and professional. Video work was never my forte. *grin*

But, at least you can get a glimpse of this, knowing you actually know someone who lives really close to some of the action.

If I don't hear that you've all died from boredom, I've got another couple to put up after I do some editing; also have some stills I took last Saturday. I'll post those when I get a chance.

So many people had been climbing up the thing, the cement was soaking wet. Robert got partway up and started slipping...not a good plan with two artificial knees! So, he backed down. I chickened out because I was afraid I'd slip and hurt the video camera; nice that they're so small and lightweight, but I sure don't want to buy another one in the near future! By the way, the guy walking away from the camera is Robert. It's good to see him finally walking normally. His knees, prior to replacement, were so bad he actually lurched from side to side.

This view, above, is from a higher point in the park. It's amazing to see how many people were out there, observing a small part of local history in the making.

This final bit of video is from the east side of the dam, overlooking the lake. We had a bit of a break today, with sun and amazingly, absolutely no rain. It may have helped a bit - officials are now saying it will be tomorrow before the water comes over the spillway. When I get the still pics loaded, you should be able to see more of the area - if there are any decent pics in the bunch, that is!

I'm sure you'll be seeing many tragic pictures of flooding throughout the Midwest in these next few weeks. But, this is what I'm seeing - a bit more of a personal touch, perhaps.

Photo contest!!!

2008-06-02T20:09:00.002-05:00

A group of us who enjoy taking pictures have put together a blog and monthly contests to give us an "excuse" to go out and take pictures!

The entries for our first contest have been posted and your anonymous voting is requested! We don't want to know who voted for what, we're just having fun doing themed pictures to see what we can come up with!

Please head on over to http://judesgroupblog.blogspot.com/ check out our pictures and vote for your favorite! To get to our polling spot, check the sidebar on the right.

We'll let you know which pictures win!

News From the Nursery Lab 2008-6

2008-05-13T21:17:00.003-05:00

or why I desperately needed to go on vacation...

The vacation had already been planned, but my last week of work made it all too clear to me that I needed time away.

Why? The Answer: Two Babies and Hospital Idiocy.

Baby #1 is one I told you about in an earlier post. This baby had had a stroke in utero, and had been resuscitated; further tests showed the baby to have no brain activity. The parents, it turns out, are not from this country, and hope that somehow the doctors in the United States will be able to pull off a miracle for them.

So, the baby is on life support. She had been moved to Bay 2, and there was a day that I had her on my assignment list for a draw. I went to her room, set up my stuff and got ready to do the draw. Her foot was cold - not really a surprise - so I held a heel warmer to her foot for a minute or so.

Perhaps I shouldn't have done this, knowing what would happen, and knowing how it would affect me, but I ran a finger across the bottom of her foot in spite of it. Of course there was no response whatsoever; neural pathways have nothing to send their messages *to*. I realized that you could punch a nail through that child's foot and there would be...nothing. It really got to me. I wanted to gather that poor baby into my arms and weep. I hope that the parents have come to a decision to let her go.

Baby #2 is a darling little guy who has been working his way through the NICU Bays, preparing to get well enough to go home. I went to get his labs and quite actually was surprised to see his name, so much so that I said to his nurse, "I thought Baby was supposed to go home last weekend."

The nurse grimaced and replied, "He was supposed to...."

It turns out that the boy was all ready to be discharged, but the parents didn't show. Subsequent contact was made and offers to the parents for fuel costs were discussed since they live quite a distance away.

That didn't do the trick either. You see, Mom and Dad are video game junkies and they really didn't want this child, so they just aren't in any real hurry to bring him home. In short, they don't want him at all. Social services is in on it; I'm hoping that somehow they turn over their parental rights so this baby can be welcomed into a home where he will be loved and wanted.

I'd like to rip out their throats.

My final straw was the application of the new "hand sanitizing" protocol BHTS is in the process of implementing.

It's no longer good enough to wash your hands and use hand sanitizer.

Our new routine goes something like this:

1. Wash your hands with soap and water in the lab.
2. Upon entering a patient room, immediately use hospital approved hand sanitizer to make sure over 90% of the germs are killed.
3. Put on gloves.
4. If you come in contact with the patient before you're ready to do labs, you must remove your gloves, re-sanitize your hands and put on fresh gloves.
5. After you draw labs, you must immediately remove your gloves while still in the patient's room, wash your hands and apply hand sanitizer.

Now...there's a problem. You still have tubes of blood to transport in some way.

In the past, we've simply kept at least one hand gloved and carry the samples back to the lab, either hand them off to the lab scientists, or processed them off to the core lab. Then we'd remove glove(s) and wash our hands and prepare for the next patient.

No more.

Now we have been told that after the samples are drawn, we must put the samples into a small plastic bag - non biohazard - so these germ covered samples are NOT EXPOSED IN THE HALLWAY.

That's right, folks. Blood sample tubes have been deemed to be so hazardous to the air in the hallway that it's just not SAFE for anyone to be in the same airspace with them!

Funny...the tubes I carry into the rooms are exposed to the air; the inside of the tubes are not. My tubes are carried into the room in a tray which is not sterile, I pull the little plastic bags out of my lab coat...you know that standard PPE (personal protective equipment) that we are required to wear to keep us safe from blood splatters or other bodily fluids.

Funny...those plastic bags I am required to carry are in my germ free pocket in my germ free lab coat with which I wear scrubs I put on at home and will wear home, and shoes that are not covered with shoe covers.

In short, we are being told that this hand washing is so vital to the health of these babies that we must keep the room germ free at all costs by following the new protocol. But, in true typical bureaucratic style, they are focused solely on the handwashing regardless of the total picture.

And, we must make sure we sanitize our hands long enough, too. We have to sing the "Happy Birthday" song, "Ring Around the Rosy" (nice song to choose considering that one was originally made up about the plague) or "Row Row Row Your Boat". Our fingernails must be coated underneath with the sanitizer, too. While sanitizer is still in your palms, you must "scritch" your fingernails through the sanitizer in your palms to make sure the bad germies get eliminated. And, we're doing this all TWICE in the patient's room.

But...

There's MORE.

We're being watched to make sure protocol is followed. Some of the staff are wearing particular scrub tops to indicate the presence of Big Brother. And we're all so grown up that it's not enough to quietly remind fellow workers if they happen to forget to follow the proper protocol.

Oh no...it might hurt someone's feelings, or embarrass or humiliate them if you actually vocalize their goof.

There's something BETTER. You have to do this with a catchy little theme. And the theme chosen has been the "Rub It" campaign.

For weeks, we've been getting emails letting us know the "frogs" are coming.

Last Monday we got our frogs.

You read it right. We were all handed little tiny frogs. But not just as a cute little visual, oh no....

These wee little frogs are squeaky toys. We have to carry the frogs in our "germ free" lab coats, these wee plastic reptilians which of course will be germ free as well. (Pardon the sarcasm)

And, why is it so important to carry the frogs? Why, I'm surprised you haven't guessed! If we spot someone not following hand sanitizing protocol, we can't SAY anything to them! Oh NO! We couldn't humiliate someone in that way, by all the hand sanitizing gods!!! We have to SQUEAK our little frogs at them!!!!

If someone squeaks one of those damn things in my direction, you can just about bet the frog is going to find a nice dark place to reside where the sun don't shine.

And, that was why my vacation was vital to my health and well being. And yes, I indulged in plenty of alcohol, too.

It's back to work tomorrow. I may be wishing for alcohol far sooner than any person should after time away.

Grrrr.

Kansas City update

2008-05-11T10:21:00.002-05:00

Okay, Lainy, so Flo DOES drive 80 mph when trying to get the car turned around and back into the garage during a hailstorm. *grins*

I'm having a blast, folks. I'm going to hate to leave tomorrow and fly back home. Flo and Lainy picked me up early Saturday morning and we headed off to try to find trouble enough to use our bail money.

But, as luck would have it, we ended up at Harrah's Casino for a marvelous brunch, and then some time spent at the slot machines. It was followed by creme brulee at one of the places Flo recommends for this most marvelous concoction.

Then it was back to Flo's house - and a most beautiful house it is, too! - to spend time in wonderful conversation with Flo and her husband, KSA, and playing with all the animals. Poor Lainy had gotten called home because her hubby was hurt in a work accident, so we had to watch her drive away; we were not happy about that at all, either!

I'm having a wonderful time catching up with "in person" visits with TW and D, seeing how much all their grandkids have grown, and of course, playing with their doggies, too.

Seems to be a pattern here, doesn't there? Always animals around - can't live without them!

I'll get to have TW to myself for a few hours today, while D heads off to spend some Mother's Day time with her mom...I'm sure envious of her being able to do so. I miss my Mom so very much. Happy Mother's Day, Mom. I love you.

I should be back in Iowa mid-afternoon tomorrow. I hope my flights back are as good as my flights down. But, there's thunderstorms in the forecast, so we'll just have to see how bumpy a ride it will be!

Take care everyone...Next time I blog it will be from home.

Happy Mother's Day!

Little Hiatus

2008-05-09T10:43:00.002-05:00

Hey, guess what! I'm writing from a different location.

I'm in Kansas City for a few days - Flo and Lainy picked me up at the airport and I'm not certain I brought enough bail money for my adventures with them tomorrow! LOL! I've just fallen in love with two new friends! Where have you guys been all my life???

We spent the morning at a delightful little restaurant called LePeep. We laughed and talked and drank coffee and and and...Lainy and Flo told stories on each other with a lot of encouragement - I kept telling them I needed new writing fodder to keep in mind every time one or the other would plug their ears and say LA LA LA..those ARE the best stories, doncha know? ;)

They were nice enough to hang around me till they could pawn me off to Two Wolves after he got off work. Turns out TW and Flo vaguely remember each other from previous jobs. Small world once more!

TW and I went for a light lunch, but this one included a Guinness. Ahhhh...the Irishwoman is growing more relaxed by the hour - I'm going to hate to go home!

TW and I are thinking we may go out and shoot some pictures today - that's always fun to have that mini-competition; and it will give me more practice with the new little camera I bought. But, any good pics I may have to show will have to wait till I make my way home. I did't bring my laptop on this trip, so therefore, no software to load the pics. Ah well...you'll just have to anticipate potential greatness!!!

Of course...if Flo, Lainy and I get thrown into jail tomorrow, it could be awhile...

Just wanted to check in and let you know I haven't dropped off the planet.

The Park's Even More Flooded

2008-04-26T23:04:00.013-05:00

A couple of weeks ago I posted some pictures from a local park.

We took the dogs on a walk today at that same park, and found a whole lot more water to behold.

The line of trees in the background are at the edge of the river. This water is left from receding water; we're still under flood watch because of massive rains the last couple of days, so all the grass could be covered yet again.

You can see the river much better in this picture.

Uhhh...where'd the path disappear to?

Just another odd looking tree I took a liking to

As many times as I've been to this park, I didn't know this statue was there. With the work I do, I'm sure there will be times when I'll be needing to find a few minutes of refuge there.

Yama and Phoebe in the truck, coming home from our walk in the park

Thought I'd show you a picture of my "bleeding heart" plant. We're supposed to have a 50% chance of snow tomorrow and that will probably temporarily damage the beauty of it, so I took the picture today, just in case.

Of course, my lilacs probably won't fare as well if it snows!

I do love the little patches of violets that are scattered around my yard.

Hannah and Yama taking it easy in the back yard.

The irrepressible Miss Bree, lounging in the sunshine.

News From the Nursery Lab 2008 - 6

2008-04-26T22:45:00.002-05:00

The happy notes from the NICU is that four babies got well enough to go home this week! We were all so excited!

But on a more somber note:

I'd like to ask you to remember a new NICU baby with your prayers. This baby was transported to BHTS from another hospital. The baby had a stroke in utero, and was not breathing upon delivery.

Resuscitation attempts were given, and perhaps for too long a time...the baby was brought back to living and put on life support. Subsequent tests have shown the child to have no brain function, but the parents are insisting at this time that everything possible be done to keep their child alive.

Please pray for this baby to have an easy crossing when her time comes, and for the parents to accept the situation for what it is, even though the decision they must make will be one of the most difficult things they've ever done.

And on a more humorous note:

I was heading over to the Mother-Baby unit to draw labs a few days ago, and one of the unit clerks stopped me.

"Kate! I met your son yesterday!" she exclaimed.

I looked at her quizzically, wondering just how her life might have intertwined with Kirk's. From what I know of her, there's not a whole lot of overlap in their lives that could bring them together, but hey, I don't know everything, after all!

"Where'd you meet him?"

"I met him right here. He and his wife were touring the unit."

And then her eyes got huge and she clapped her hands over her mouth. OOPS! HIPAA violation!

I just laughed. I'll just remind her of it when Marsha goes into labor that the best room on the floor might be a really good way to make up for letting something slip.;)

All Grown Up...

2008-04-26T22:34:00.006-05:00

These pics greeted me when I got home this evening. It doesn't seem possible that they're old enough to go to prom already. *sigh*

I think it's great that if the kids don't want to take a date to prom, they can go alone (i.e., without a "date"). Isabelle - in red - went with her girlfriends, and Anna had her date with a "new" boyfriend.

I hope they have a wonderful and safe time! I have to admit, I'm a wee bit jealous because I never got to go to prom! I told Vaughn that that's probably why I still like glittery clothes for dress up occasions; I'm still trying to get my prom thrills! LOL!

2008-04-26T22:29:00.002-05:00

What can I say? I "lived" most of that music!

I scored a Far Out
85% on theQuiz by SheGoddess: Quick Weight Loss

Wow...Unexpected Compliment

2008-04-23T22:50:00.003-05:00

I know I've been a little lax in the posting department...I'll get a chance to catch up in a few days, I think.

But, I have just a bit of time to tell you that I received a phone call from my co-instructor. Her main job is in the Pathology Learning Center at BHTS. Some "suits" from a neighboring STATE university was in town, discussing the lab scientist program.

Some of the current students have never done any sort of phlebotomy. So, my name was put out as someone who was very capable of teaching these students the correct way to draw blood. From what I was told, their response was, "She's just exactly the kind of person we're looking for!"

And, then they named a figure they were willing to pay. And, you know...I'm VERY willing to work for them at the figure they named. So, it looks like some of my afternoons this summer will be utilized differently than afternoon naps in the sunshine!

They have not contacted me yet, so I won't consider this confirmed until I hear from them. But...wow! I like being offered jobs I don't have to interview for!

Kate

Vacation Approaches!!!!

2008-04-19T19:11:00.002-05:00

I'm gonna get outta Dodge in a couple of weeks. And, I'm really excited about it, too!

I'm not going far; just headed to Kansas City, but I'm doing my best to save bail money for the trip. *grins*

You see, not only am I going to visit TW and his wife, I'm going to meet a couple of my as-yet-unmet-in-person blog friends, Flo and Lainy.

I know I can get into a really decent amount of trouble with TW, but adding Flo and Lainy to the mix sounds absolutely DELIGHTFUL! I'm SO excited!

I'm actually going to fly to my destination, even though it's only about a 4 hour trip. My Jeep needs to have a little bit of work done, and renting a car and paying for gasoline was more expensive than flying, believe it or not! So, Flo and Lainy are going to pick me up at the airport and have breakfast with me. I'll then get to spend Saturday with them. It's going to be a blast!

It also looks as though I'm going to finally meet Tracey in person this summer, too! I like this "blog world". I get to meet people! Can meeting Robin and Jude be in the future too? I hope so!

So, I'll try to contain most of my excitement till the first of the month and then I'll be on pins and needles waiting for the fun to begin.

Do you suppose they'll let me have my camera in jail? LOL

Kate

Springtime Sucks!

2008-04-11T14:09:00.006-05:00

At least at this very moment it does!

Have a look:

That, my friends, is what remains of my last 24 hours. We found the heavy rains and still mostly frozen ground was not good for the basement. We took in about two inches of rain yesterday afternoon and evening. We've lived in this house for almost 29 years and not once has the basement flooded. We've been lucky - most every other neighbor around us has flooded on a regular basis.

So, I guess maybe it was our turn?

We borrowed Kirk's shop vac. Then ours, which was very very old, rusted through on the bottom and no longer held water. That's how old the thing was. It was still made of metal!

A hurried trip into town amidst the tornado sirens gathered a new and larger shop vac, and sandwiches at McDonalds. We returned home to find that the basement had filled up again. We vac'd up water till 1:30 a.m. and then collapsed with a combination of exhaustion and F*** it...if you get my drift!

Now, the water was not coming in through the sump pump. Not at first, anyway. Eventually the sump hole filled and we found without a shadow of a doubt that the sump pump DIDN'T WORK.

So, I called the plumber this morning. And just $300 dollars later a new pump was installed and is now busily marshing out the side of the house and the neighbor's driveway. I'm sure they'll be delighted when they get home!

I'll have to make a trip to the home improvement store to get some flex pipe or something similar to run all that water elsewhere.

And, I think I deserve a nice restaurant meal tonight for all my efforts today. Believe me, I'd have much rather NOT have called into work today! Red Lobster sounds good...

Thought you'd get a kick out of what the sump pump puked up, though. Understand, my youngest children turned 30 this year, so I had a good giggle when I fished these out.

Yup...some of Kirk's Legos still exist. And, I think that ball might be an accessory from He-Man. I'm going to give them to Kirk. *chuckles*

You know, I've been talking about beginning a vigorous workout program, but this was not exactly what I had in mind to start out! My, what sore muscles I have!

Kate

Another Semester - Done (Almost)

2008-04-09T20:51:00.006-05:00

Phlebotomy classes ended Monday night.

I'm relieved. It's been a tough semester. We have students of all races and socio-economic backgrounds in our classes. Most of them are in the classes for one thing; a chance to learn a skill that doesn't involve pushing a dietary or housekeeping cart. They want a better chance at a good paycheck. Some are looking for a way to serve. Others are being sent to the class to aid them on getting off the welfare system.

This is now my seventh semester of teaching. I still love it. But our classes meet twice a week in the evenings and both lecture and lab are involved in each 2.5 hour session, and massive amounts of material must be covered at each class.

Our challenge this semester was the weather. Four classes were canceled, and the push was on to cover all the necessary material, push the four missing labs into the other labs and still turn out a quality student in time for clinicals. All the students needed to maintain a passing grade of 75% on the didactic portion.

It was tough. But, we did it. The students ended up with two practical exams almost back to back, and not much more than that for the final practical and final exam. Two students were teetering on the edge. Without that passing grade, they wouldn't be able to continue to clinicals. We corrected their final exams before we left the last night. We were afraid we would have to tell them they couldn't go any further. But, they made it!

In late May we'll meet with them for the last time to go over the paperwork from their clinical preceptors. We've never done that before; it should be interesting to hear about their exploits.

Some of the people have me worried. One woman, a Muslim, is worried that she'll be treated badly because of her head covering. We assured her it wouldn't be a problem. In fact, one of the other Muslim women on staff routinely tells those who question her that she's a nun. Usually shuts them right up.

Another woman took the class to escape from housekeeping. Sad to say, I won't be able to recommend her no matter how well her clinicals are done. Her housekeeping job happens to be in my NICU and I've watched her in action for the last year. She's lazy and does as little as she can to get by. As an example, one weekend I had to actually tell her to fill our paper towel dispenser. She felt the dispenser, opened it up and saw that it was about 1/4 full. She indicated that there were paper towels in it already, and was miffed when I told her that we really needed it full as housekeeping only makes one pass per shift on weekends, it seems. She flounced off to get more paper towels and when I asked her to fill it again the next day, she was really mad because she had "just filled it yesterday!"

Ya think I'm going to want her near patients when she doesn't understand the value of soap and water in a hospital? Ain't gonna happen.

Another woman needed a career because her marriage fell apart. On the last night of class she crept over to us and asked us if we could recommend some sort of computer class for her - she was afraid she'd never be able to do any computer portion of her work. Of course we recommended a course for her.

One of the guys in the class was already employed by BHTS in another capacity. He applied for, and took one of the part time openings on the adult team. And, he got cocky because he already had a job, while everyone else hadn't even given a thought to applying for a job. I had to pull him aside and make a decision to be completely politically incorrect and tell him to cut it out; his cockiness was apparent in his classwork; his grades dropped on tests and homework. I had to be blunt and tell him that even if he had a job, he still had to get 75% to pass the class, and also impress his clinical site before he'd get a certificate. I watched his grades begin to creep back up. I'm glad I chose to be blunt.

Another fellow had the most amazing troubles putting on his gloves. It didn't matter whether the gloves were latex, nitrile, or plastic. His hands would begin to sweat the moment he picked gloves out of the box. We teased him - told him he'd need to begin putting his gloves on ten minutes ahead of the draw. He was so good natured about it, too. At his final practical, I hit upon a solution for him; you see, there will be some patients who will watch that struggle to put gloves on and they'll think he'll have trouble with the draw if he can't even put on his gloves. However, at his practical, I noticed he was looking over the sample requisition while he struggled with the gloves. Voila! There's the clue. I told him to begin putting his gloves on while looking over the req. The patients will think he's being slow putting on gloves because he's reading at the same time. It'll work.

My co-instructor and I routinely put a "free" question on exams. On the final, we asked what we could do to improve future classes. Most times when we do this, we read that the students had fun in class, thought we were good teachers, etc. It's kind of a nice pat on the back for us, and an easy point for the student.

One student's response, though, made me sad. She's a single mom, fairly bright, but she's one of those who is struggling to find a way off welfare after a lifetime of growing up within the system. And, the common sense just isn't clicking for her. She suggested that we have more classes each week, for example, have class five days a week instead of two. She felt that her life was just too much of a struggle when she had to work at her job, raise her family and go to school two nights a week. She felt that if she could go to school five nights a week, it would be far better. Other things happened during the semester that indicated that she found it easier to make excuses to avoid things rather than meeting challenges head on. We're afraid she'll follow the same pattern for clinicals that she did for class. We're afraid she'll show up late for class every night, or be unreliable in other ways. She does a good job in labs. We're hoping she'll surprise us.

My co-instructor and I went out for dinner afterwards. Good food, good conversation and alcohol did much to relieve the stress of the semester. We should probably make an effort to drink more often during the semester!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

As I walked from the parking ramp to the final night of class, I stopped to enjoy the sun coming through the walkway for a bit. I decided to take a couple of pictures from the skywalk to show you.

This small area is a relaxing place to get away from the hospital and gather your thoughts. There's plenty of warmth, plenty of lovely plantings, and the soothing sounds of a water feature. As you can tell from the photos, it sits only yards away from the hospital, but it remains a peaceful haven in spite of that. Of course, right now it's pretty bare. There really are plantings to behold once spring arrives to stay!

To the right of the tree is the "beginning" of the water feature. It travels part way around the area, with small waterfalls which add dimension and motion to the water feature. It will be nice when the weather warms enough for it to be on once again.

As people come to the end of the skywalk, there are a couple of dollhouse displays. This one is my favorite.

This is the interior of the dollhouse.

This has been a good day for this blog. I mentioned a post in AD's comments section and though I wouldn't have thought it, a whole lot of folks came by to visit. It really surprised me - I didn't think people went visiting so much unless someone was mentioned within a post. So, thanks, AD! I appreciate the visitors. Hope they found enough of interest to come back now and again!

It's time to find my way to a more horizontal place in the world. Only two more days till my weekend off. I'll gratefully sleep till I wake up those two days!

Talk to you all soon.

Kate

News From the Nursery Lab 2008-5

2008-04-08T22:39:00.002-05:00

Now that we're back to full lab tech staffing for a few weeks, I'm only assigned to NICU for the full shift a couple of times a week. (Have to share it with the rest of the LT's, you know...)

Today was the day. It was made temporarily memorable by several little things, like me stepping out of the elevator and almost falling into Dr. Smellgood's arms. Wish that one would have worked out a little better. *grin* The research crew treated the lab staff to pizza for weighing and notating a whole bunch of blood samples over the past year. There wasn't a single one of us who was sad to see that scale leave the lab, believe me! The daddy of a new little one actually listened to something I said and gave me a compliment of sorts about it, which is kind of cute and I'll use it for the minor story in this post before telling you the memorable story.

Over the past few weeks, quite a few nurses have commented that the babies often don't cry, do not have "Brady's", and many times will not even wake up when I do the draw. I just laugh and tell them that it's nothing more than a simple case of "grandma magic" and let it go at that. Of course, it's a little more than that, but it's easier than explaining in boring detail why I think it works.

Anyway, a glucose was needed on this little guy today. Mom was coming over from Mother/Baby to feed and the lab results would determine whether or not Baby would get to go home. As I'm finishing the stick, I hear the parents and the nurse coming down the hall, the nurse griping she had told the lab to come over but didn't see the paperwork; of course not, I wasn't done with that yet;)

Everyone was surprised to see me in the room.

"He's not crying!" they all exclaimed.

"Nope, he's not. He jumped when I did the poke, but that's all. I just used my "grandma magic" on him."

So, when I left, dropping the paperwork at the nurse's desk, I glanced back in, wishing them the best results on the test and my hopes they'd get get to be dismissed from the hospital to begin life as a family as a result.

Dad looked up and smiled and said, "Goodbye - and thank you, Grandma Magic."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

But the story of the day has to be the one that left all of us slack-jawed with amazement. I think more than one of us may be a little concerned at the lack of common sense seen.

My co-worker and I were both in the newborn nursery drawing labs and newborn screens. In attendance at that moment were several nursing students attached to their mentors, a staff doc with several residents in tow.

Another nurse comes in, pushing a bed ahead of her with a decidedly upset and squalling infant inside. It was decided that for the good of the baby it should remain in the nursery away from the parents for a little while unless supervision was possible, or some educational tapes had been watched along with some basic instruction on the care of newborns.

Baby was very uncomfortable. His little tummy was in an uproar, and it was suspected that it would be over the next several hours.

You see, Daddy had decided that since Mommy's milk hadn't come in yet, Baby had to have something to eat - and fed the poor little thing chicken noodle soup. That's right, you read it correctly.

Chicken noodle soup.

To his credit, when the nurse checked in on the parents, he asked her if he could feed the baby some soup. When she told him that was not an option, he admitted he already had. At least he didn't lie by omission.

My initial reaction was that I hope this guy gets smarter or he gets snipped before contributing any further to the gene pool.

News From the Nursery Lab 2008-5

2008-04-06T21:54:00.009-05:00

Today I had the pleasure of checking in on our latest Warrior Baby. Our overnight Lab Scientist was in doing the labs on her, and I stepped in as that particular Lab Scientist hasn't worked NICU for quite awhile. I not only wanted to check on WB, but make sure the draw was going okay.

I was surprised to see that her head was no longer bandaged. So, I went to the opposite side of the bed for a closer look and was thrilled to see the marvelous job done by the surgeons. Other than flatness due to the lack of an eye, she looked absolutely amazing!

I haven't had a chance to talk to the nurses about her recently, but we don't do labs every day, so I take that as a definite sign that things are going far better than they expected prior to the surgery. She's a beautiful little girl.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

This was my weekend to work. The census count has been really low the last week or so. Counting back, nine months ago should have been July. No wonder the census count is low. It was so blasted hot in the Midwest last July, I'm sure that sex was probably not indulged in. I can hear it now..."Not tonight! It's too flippin' hot!"
Sure a different answer than "I have a headache!" LOL!

Anyway, I generally opt for working in the Critical Care Lab on weekends; even if the NICU census is low, sometimes emergency surgeries create more work to do. Not this weekend, however. So, I defrosted the dorm-sized refrigerator in the lab's break room.

Do you even want to hazard a guess on how many years it's been since I physically deforsted a refrigerator? Yeah, about that long ago!

Anyway, the thing was so overrun with frost that nothing was getting cold in the frig any more. As I told one of the workers, it's bad enough to be dieting and keeping cans of SlimFast in the frig, but when the SlimFast isn't particularly cold, it gets quite annoying! I used my blowdryer to melt the ice and it still took over two hours to accomplish the task. I'm going to be stiff and sore tomorrow from sitting down on the floor for that long!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Yesterday after work I was supposed to go to a Pagan Music Concert. Sad to say, though, I didn't make it. I fell asleep instead.

It's the curse of the stupid ear infection I've got. I had been getting a lot of sleep this week, but it wasn't restful sleep, just "sick" sleep. So, now that I'm on antibiotics, I'm getting a little bit better rest. Thank goodness!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I took a few pictures with the new camera this week. It's very convenient to have a small camera with me all the time. Of course, now I just need some inspiration to get out more to do some photos!

These pictures are taken at a local park. Spring thawing has led to some flooding. And, it was windy, so I didn't want to be outside very long and get my ear all pained up again. So, the pictures are very general. Hope you enjoy them anyway!

This is the pond where we used to go ice skating. If you look way over in the middle of the picture, you'll see a picnic table in the water. That table is usually about 15 feet away from the pond. In the background is the summer Shakespearian Theatre. I'd love to see a Renaissance wedding done there. It's a neat stage.

This is the walkway along the Iowa River. As you can see, the river is almost level with the walk. Still a beautiful place to be on a sunny day.

What can I say? I like to sleep in the sun, too!

Bocci, anyone?

This tree caught my eye. I like 'em when they're oddly shaped.

This part of the park should be called City Marsh, not City Park.

That's about it for this time. It's time for me to think seriously about taking my medicine and going to bed. Talk to you all next time!

Penchant for Plastic, Vinyl, Leather

2008-04-03T13:45:00.004-05:00

and other things she shouldn't have...

I've decided to begin keeping a tally.

Hannah the Horrible loves things with the scent and consistency of plastic. I should have started this list a week ago when it became constant instead of occasional. But, no time like the present, so be prepared for posts with short subject lines and (hopefully!) short lists. The retraining begins TODAY.

Yesterday:

My iPod ear buds (a $40 investment gone - she saw the edge of 'em hanging out of my purse - mmmmmm, spaghetti!!!!!

The strap to my black pair of Croc's. Croc's still wearable since I don't use the straps.

Today:

Found/Heard: Squeakee, Squeakeeeee....the sound of teeth gnawing on something plastic. The bandit had pilfered one of my favorite pairs of crocs out of the closet and was preparing to munch down another pair. No luck on that one for HtH.

The humans have been trying diligently to pick up after themselves, but HtH is just too damn smart and outPoodles us every time.

This dog ownership is good for decluttering.

Feeling Badly

2008-04-02T22:01:00.002-05:00

I think I did a bad thing today.

I joined a yahoo group last winter when I got Hannah. Of course, it was a poodle group. I liked this group because they did things a bit differently than some other groups; they had one day a week for people to share jokes; another day specifically set aside to share pictures. It cut out a lot of crap in the way of emails, you know? You could plan for the days to read jokes or enjoy pictures - no more of having to slog through tons of chaff to get to the wheat, if that makes sense.

Then, today one of the members sent along a forward that Andy Rooney apparently opined; it dealt with the fact that there are several places in government buildings where the Ten Commandments are prominently displayed. At the end of the opinion piece was something said to the effect that 86% of the country is Christian and the majority should tell the other 14% to shut up.

I thought I'd written a nice letter stating that I was in the 14% and I thought that a poodle list should be about poodles and not try to shove religion down anyone's throat.

As a result, one person wrote a huge "I'm offended" and "I love Jesus Christ" letter to the group, berating me for hurting the feelings of the person who sent the original forward along and snipping that they sure hadn't seen many posts from me.

The moderator just sent a letter along stating she didn't have time to babysit for a bunch of adults who should think before sitting down at a keyboard. So, she's dissolving the list. I wrote to the list begging her not to dissolve the thing and telling her I'd unsub, which I will as soon as I see the my letter come across.

Maybe I shouldn't have responded, but dammit! We live in a country that's supposed to be about Freedom of Religion. Yet, there is a huge percentage of Christians who just cannot accept other beliefs as valid.

I have a co-worker who doesn't have time for me since finding out that my faith wasn't necessarily hers. Now, when having a conversation with her, she says her piece and then adds, "Praise Jesus". She never did that before when she thought I was a Believer. Now she brings books in to read...all dealing with a religious theme, of course.

Every so often some idiot does something and gets arrested; the police put out information that says the person was a Satanist, or it was part of some witchcraft ritual. And many Christians go berserk because the heathens must be converted or die! Yet, when church-going Christians commit crimes, they don't get the same kind of press over their sins. In fact, in many cases, the religious aspect never even comes up. Did Scott Peterson kill his wife? Probably so. But, did you ever hear anything about Scott being a regular member of XYZ Church? I didn't think so. Yet, if Scott would have been a Pagan, the press would have been all over that.

We had a mass murder in our city last week. A man killed his wife and four kids before committing suicide. He'd committed a crime and would have probably been put in prison for a short time. There was a huge funeral. The Bishop even was part of the service. Fred Phelps even showed up to make his demented point that these people had died because our city is liberal and gay folks live here.

But, this Christian man was able to embezzle money, bludgeon his wife and kids with baseball bats until they were dead, then kill himself. He broke a lot of commandments there. But, he was a Christian so somehow that was more okay than it would have been for those of us in that other 14% minority.

It's appalling.

And in some ever widening circle, I come back to the original list message. I did a bad thing today, I think. A list enjoyed by many gets dissolved because the actions of a few. And, I'm one of the few. I feel badly.

News From the Nursery Lab 2008-4

2008-04-01T21:09:00.002-05:00

And Other Things As Well...

When I last updated you on the nursery, I left you with news of a WB who I thought was in surgery. She wasn't; she went to surgery this past Friday, however. I'm pleased to report that she came through the surgery with flying colors. As far as I know, the tumor was removed with little problem; the biopsy results are still pending. But, she's resting comfortably with a head that, though bandaged, is of a size a head should be! I'll be listening for new updates to share with you. I expect the next new thing that will concern me will be when the arterial lines are removed and we begin to draw labs through heelsticks.

We have seen a lot of babies in the last few weeks with birth defects that are way over the top. That sounds awful, doesn't it? But, we see so many kids with heart defects, intestines born outside the body, prematurity, and other serious things, that they almost become routine. As horrific as it sounds, we love and care for them, and know that eventually we'll get them well enough to go home. And, each and every one of them tugs at my heartstrings when I do my little bit to help them.

And then we get something that makes us aware of the miracle of a healthy birth. In the last few weeks we've had a baby born with "lobster claw" hands and feet. He has a cleft palate which won't be repaired for awhile. He's got other problems associated with his disease as well. And, yet, he's gone home already. His family is ready and willing to take up the challenge.

Another baby was born with a "conehead". Seriously. She's a beauty, too. Last I heard tests were going to be done to figure out if there was mental impairment as a result. I know they have to be certain, but as I looked into the eyes of that child, I saw "old" eyes, filled with wisdom and humor, almost like an old soul was in there, amused at all the fuss.

I realized that in a short time it will be a year that I've been part of the NICU team. I'm glad I made the change in spite of losing all my goof off time, not to mention my writing time, to go back to work full time. Sure, I hate it to bits every morning at 3 a.m. when the alarm goes off, but at the same time, I like to think that bringing "grandma magic" to the job helps the wee ones get through some tough times. Don't disillusion me, please!

~~~~~~~~~~~~

In other life news, I find that I'm allowing myself to begin to tread down the agoraphobic path again, much as I did after my mother passed away six years ago. I ws horrified to realize I was letting myself fall into that trap again, and disappointed in myself for not realizing how easy it would be to do it all again. So, I'm making myself leave the house when I can.

Saturday I joined my fellow pagan friends at a local shop that specializes in greenware/ceramics. I'd never done ceramics before, so I made an attempt to do the Illuminati brand (from Dan Brown's Angels and Demons) on a simple 6 x 6 inch tile. It's supposed to be done on Saturday. It will be interesting to see the result!

Sunday I dragged myself out of the house for a few hours and went to the mall. I dinked around in BB, looking at routers and network cards for my laptop; I want to take it on vacation, and also to work on occasion. I ended up buying three new CD's and a small digital camera. I didn't buy the one my heart was set on, as R and I had words over my need to possess electronic things; (who, ME?) I purchased a Fuji digital with only basic stuff on it. I wanted something to easily tuck in my purse to get those pictures that I never seem to have a camera handy for - things like the beautiful red-tail hawk I saw last week, the soaring turkey vultures flying overhead; Hannah being a dork in the yard with Phoebe, grandbabies, friends, flowers, all the neat things I see. Maybe little tiny baby hands and feet, too. You never know what might find a place in my album.

So, words or not, I did come home with a camera. He doesn't know it, though. He will, in time, of course. I just haven't decided when that time is. *wink*

My next stop was at Barnes and Noble. I picked up the "contest" books. And, of course, I picked up a book in the SciFi section for myself. Haven't even had the time to think about reading it yet.

Phlebotomy class only has two more didactic sessions. As much as I hate to say it, I'm saddened to have to say that over half the students are disappointing the heck out of me. We have a few that are exceptional, but the rest of 'em? Oh, my. Some of them haven't even managed to draw blood on their lab partners. I hate to tell them, but patients are real skin, not plastic like the artificial arms we start them out with. This group seems to think that it's appropriate to come to class late, be absent, not study. The exams and quizzes have had abysmal scores. I think some of them will not make it to clinicals, as they won't make the 75% cumulative score for the didactic portion. And, we can't blame it all on missing the snow days. They could, after all, have used those days to study in spite of not having class. That's what a syllabus is for, after all.

And, with luck, warmer weather will arrive about the time of the end of class. I'm anxious to get out in the yard and dig in the dirt.

Hannah the Horrible shredded a boot and a placemat over the weekend. Wastebaskets are a continuing source of joy and wonder. I didn't think I would ever need to use the kitchen wastebasket for a centerpiece on the table.

Seriously, I love that dog. And, she's only nine months old; smart as a whip, she only goes on destruct when she's bored. I'm finally getting it through my thick skull that I need to put more training time into my day...for both my benefit and hers! I'll post some new pictures of her when I get her groom finished. She's "roughed" out, but still needs a bath and the finesse grooming. I'm putting her in the fancy-schmancy show dog coat to see what it might look like. I'll take it all off with the next groom for ease of care this summer, though. She's so joyful in all she does, puddles, mud, anything that might be rough and tumble and dirty makes its way into her pretty white coat.

I know there's more to talk about, but I think I'm tapped out for now. I'm finally getting a bit of a chance to visit blogs. Probably won't reply to them, though, but will jump in as I get caught up.

And, so, I'll close for this time. See y'all again soon!

Business then Pleasure

2008-03-26T08:59:00.002-05:00

Sorry about my absence, everyone. I’ve been too worn out to even think about blogging. By the end of the day it was just one more thing that loomed on my horizon which I could put off “till tomorrow”, so I did. And the tomorrows have sort of gotten away from me.

So, this may turn out to be a very long blog post – I’m writing it in bits and pieces in word processing, and then will transfer the thing. Since it’s my day off, I’ll work on it throughout the day, then move it over all at once. It’s the only way I can see to get my stuff done around the house AND have some time to play on the computer!

The blizzards we had seemed to occur every night we’d have Phlebotomy class. School would be cancelled; if you’ve ever taken night classes you probably know how challenging it can be to try to get people caught up with material when only one class is missed – we missed four!

And, the missed classes happened to be the ones which the students were to begin learning how to stick. We’ve been overloaded trying to get them back to speed on material and the physical aspects of phlebotomy. Didactic classes are finished on April 7, with their clinical rotations to begin the following Monday, so it’s imperative we have them ready to go. Believe me, I’m going to be happy to see this semester finished.

News from the Nursery

Some of you may have seen the national news. Dorotea went home on Good Friday. You can check out the news story from our local news here. I was her lab tech a couple of days prior to her leaving. She’s happy and in good health. She was able to go home with oxygen support, but it’s marvelous to think how far she’s come since those first frightening days. Her family was so very excited, and we were all excited for them! I hope we’ll get to see her from time to time. A lot of the nurses keep in touch with the families, but we techs don’t get to develop much of a relationship with them as we’re in and out of the rooms so quickly, with little to do with the babies except get the draws, (in spite of the fact that some people *ahem* keep wanting to go back to the rooms and cuddle ‘em).

The latest baby who needs our thoughts and prayers is a little one who was born with a horrific tumor. I believe it was removed yesterday. I saw her being brought back from surgery shortly before my shift ended. The tumor grew out of her eye socket, forcing her eye out and rupturing it; the tumor was as big as her head. We have one of the best ophthomology units in the world here at BHTS, and no one had seen anything like this before. She’s a beautiful little girl, and I’ll be anxious to check on her tomorrow when I go back to work.

CONTEST!!!

In February I had a contest for a book I believe it’s important for people to read. Only three people expressed interest in the book, so guess what???
All three are winners and as soon as I can get to the bookstore, I’ll be sending some books out. Tracey, Jeff, and Lainy – you win!!! I know how to get ahold of Tracey and Jeff, but Lainy? You’re going to have to send me your snail mail address. If you want to send it to me at madrigal at southslope dot net - that would be wonderful!

And by the way, Lainy – any chance you’re going to be at Flo’s in early May? It looks as though I’m going to get a few days away and am heading to KC for some time with TW and family. I haven’t written to Flo yet, but I’m hoping to at least get a chance to meet her and have lunch. But, I wanted to confirm my dates first. Just a heads up for you in case you were planning a visit!

And Trace – you like to camp, don’t you? How about coming up for LammasFest? Think about it. I’m trying to convince O to come to it as well. Of course, any other readers who might be interested in a Pagan gathering are most welcome too! I think Strings might be close enough to come as well. I’ll have more information about LammasFest with a link to the website once we’ve gotten it put together for this season.

Okay…I’m at a good stopping point for now, so I’ll just get this posted and continue on with other ramblings to post later.

I may not get to visit everyone’s blogs for awhile. You see, Firefox did an update while I was away from the computer for a couple of days and THEY LOST ALL MY BOOKMARKS! So, I’m going to have to rebuild from scratch, it appears. All my doggie rescue links, all my work stuff, all my blog addresses are just gone. *sigh* But, I’ll get it all back eventually!

Have a wonderful day everyone! I’ll do my best to get more posted very soon.

Hannah and Phoebe Playing

2008-02-11T14:58:00.001-06:00

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sigh I have to lick his boots again....