school days

I don't watch much tv and especially don't watch reality tv.  But tonight I misplaced the remote (and was too lazy to get up to change the channel) and watched The Principal's Office.  Freaking hilarious!  One kid gets in trouble for speaking Turkish in class (not a Turkish class either), another for mooning some people at a track meet, and another called a teacher a bitch in spanish (which he denied).  And of course, the usual skipping class, coming in late and one good old fist fight.  But, seriously, are these are the biggest problems these schools face?  I sure hope so.  It seems like school shootings and gang violence are all I see on the news.  It's nice to see these kids aren't trying to kill each other. 

Why can't the kid speak Turkish in class?  I understand it can be annoying to people who don't speak the language but should he really be suspended?  Seems a little harsh to me.  The kid that mooned someone at the track meet, his mom was worried he would be kicked off the track team which would ruin his chance for a track scholarship.  Really?  Especially when he is a good kid otherwise?  I guess if there weren't strict punishments for not following the rules no one would follow them.  I have been out of school for a few years (ok, more than a few), but  I always thought suspension was for the REALLY bad stuff.    

In case you are wondering, no, I don't have kids.  I am sure this would not be so funny to me if I did.  On the other hand, I probably would find it funny, so it's probably best I don't have any kids.

If you need a good laugh, check it out.    To laugh at stupid people, check out: Speeders.

That says love

Last Friday my 4 year-old nephew, OH, asked my sister in law to draw a picture of herself on a Ritz cracker with spray cheese-in-a-can.  When she gave him the cracker he took one look at it, smiled sweetly and said, "Mommy, that says love." 

The next day my brother went out to buy a new microwave.  He asked OH what kind of microwave he wanted.  OH paused, tapped his cheek with his finger while looking up and thinking, and finally answered:

"One with tiger stripes that roars when you open the door."

He was disappointed when he saw the one they actually got.

It really does matter

Yesterday evening got off to a rough start.  I started my shift by spending about 2 hours (with many interruptions) attempting to straighten out a complicated discharge.   When I finally got the guy out of the hospital, I still had 3 patients waiting to see me and was behind on giving my meds, which weren't there of course.   

Since it was Monday I was expecting to get an admit right away, but it never happened.  The rest of the evening went so well.  I only had 3 patients for the rest of the evening.  That never happens on a Monday evening.  Usually there are people lined up in the ED waiting for patients to leave so they can be admitted.

Since I only had 3 patients, I was able to spend extra time with one really sick guy.  I can't remember his age for sure, but I think he was in his late 40's.  He hadn't been to a doctor in many years.  He self diagnosed pneumonia 2 times this past spring.  Both times he treated it with antibiotics he got from friends in Canada and/or Mexico, never seeing a doctor for diagnosis or treatment.  He comes to us with a diagnosis of 'failure to thrive', transferred from a smaller hospital about 1 hour away.  He has been living with his mother in that small town for about a year now as his career as a musician has ended.   He has pneumonia, empyema (with a right sided chest tube and JP drain with tons of puss-like drainage), severely enlarged prostate, diabetes and something abnormal about either his WBC or platelets (I can't remember which), and has unintentionally lost 10 pounds in the last month.  He is a thin guy, with a decreased appetite and increasing weakness.

He has not taken very good care of his teeth.  He is missing a few and the rest don't look that good, but I have definitely seen worse in my career.   As it turns out, his lack of dental hygiene has probably caused his lung problems.  They think he had some bacteria in his mouth/rotting teeth that he somehow aspirated into his lungs which caused this pneumonia and empyema.  

Makes me want to go brush my teeth right now.  

Anyway, this guy was super nice but appeared to have some slight mental or cognitive deficit, nothing diagnosed but he was a little off.  None the less, he was very particular about positioning.  He was always asking to be repositioned and just when you thought you were done, he would say, "Oh, I just think that pillow needs to be moved just a little more."  He wasn't saying it to be difficult or controlling, he was just so weak that he really could not move on his own well enough to fix it.  So, I spent a lot of time in his room positioning him and repositioning him, getting him special foods, cleaning him up (did I mention he was incontinent of urine and was dribbling constantly), putting protective cream on his excoriated groin, explaining how the chest tube worked, how the JP drain worked, giving him meds, etc etc.  Now, those are all things I am happy to do and should be doing but usually I would never have time to do it because I have at least 3-4 other patients needing me.  Usually I would defer a lot of it to the nursing assistant.  

But last night I had time and I gave him great care.  At the end of the night I was so happy I was able to provide really good care to my patient.  Usually I can only get the bare minimum done and last night I was able to do everything he needed and more.  And then he said it:  

"Thank you for everything tonight.  I really felt like you cared about me and like you had time for me."  

He was so genuine when he said it.  It's so rare that a patient recognizes that you go out of your way for them and it means so much to me that he could see that I cared and that I did go out of my way for him.   Too often I am apologizing for taking so long or for not having time to do something.  

It was a great end to the night.  I work again tomorrow, I hope this wasn't the calm before the storm....

Riding THE bus

As a child I walked to school.  We lived 0.9 miles from the school.  If you lived over a mile away, you got to ride the bus.  I always wanted to ride the bus.  It seemed like all the cool kids rode the bus.  At the end of each day it seemed everyone else was going to a party I wasn't invited to, riding the bus.  I am not exactly sure what I thought happened on the bus, but I knew I was missing out and hated every minute of it.  I would jump at the chance to ride the bus home with a friend who invited me over after school.  Every field trip was even more fun to me because it started and ended with a bus ride.  I sometimes wonder if any of the other "walkers" felt the same way.  

So, as an adult, I think of the city bus as an extension of the school bus.  Until recently, I had never been on the city bus except to take the free rides to the state fair.  The fair bus has air conditioning and is clean and always has enough seats for everyone.   I just assumed all buses were like this.  I was wrong.

With the rising gas prices and crazy parking costs downtown where I work, I decided to try the bus.  The bus stop is across the street from my house and drops me off 2 short blocks from my work.  It only takes about 7 minutes longer to get to work and is so much more relaxing than fighting traffic and looking for a place to park.  

It's been a real experience to say the least.   I should start by saying I live in the inner city.  I am an average middle class white woman in her 30's.  I am an RN at a county hospital.  It's very culturally diverse, both the patients and the staff.  The majority of our patients are poor and/or uninsured.  Many are mentally ill, homeless, drug addicts, scam artists, gang members etc.  I have seen and heard most everything.  But the people on the bus take it to a whole new level.  They are loud, have no manners and no shame. 

I was riding home recently and could hear one guy on his phone.  Everyone could hear him because he was SO LOUD!  Every few words out of his mouth included F--this and F--that.   He was complaining about his job and how they changed his hours and it didn't work with his other job, his band.  He was talking about this for about 20 minutes.  The other person on the phone was not saying much because this guy was constantly talking.  And, I really don't care what kind of language adults use in the presence of other adults but there were at least 3 small kids on the bus that this guy could clearly see.  Hopefully, the kids didn't hear him.  Yeah right!  They always know what they shouldn't be saying.  Anyway, the funny part of this story is that just before he got off the bus, he ended his conversation, "ok Ma, my stop is coming up.  I love you too mom"  What!?!   He was talking to his mother!  

The bus is always full, doesn't matter what time you ride, it's always full.  Usually there are enough seats but there are times people have to stand.  Recently, this guy sat down next to me and was talking to the person across the aisle (who got on at the same time and they were talking as they got on the bus).  All of a sudden he starts wiggling around in his seat, swinging his arms while telling  a story.  I guess the cramped bus is the best place to re-enact a recent fight you were in.  

Another day, I could hear a girl talking about her upcoming jail sentence.  Apparently she already served some of the time but now has to go back and finish up the rest of it.  She asked the guy she was talking to what he was going to do now and he said he had to go "take care of some bid-ness" (business).  Then he asked her where she was going and she said she was going to meet "some people" and take care of her own "bid-ness".   Maybe jail will be good for her.

I could fill this entire blog with stories from the bus, but sometimes they are just more appalling when you see it first hand.  So, the excitement of riding the bus has worn off after only about 2 weeks.  I bet the school bus would have been more fun.

The one nice thing I have consistently noticed is that whenever someone disabled gets on the bus people automatically give up their seat.  I guess they do have some manners...

 

 

My first blog...

I start this first blog with a confession, I've been a blog voyeur for some time now.  It's a dirty little secret of mine.  I don't talk about it.  No one asks me about it.  Why would they if they don't know I do it?

It all started at a work retreat.  Three days of relaxing and learning to take of care ourselves, reigniting the spirit.    The homework assignment from the first day was to bring something that describes you.  Or is important to you.  I forgot the exact assignment.  Anyway, I brought pictures.  Of me, my family, friends, etc.  Generic, yes, but I am not so creative and I was going to be sharing this with several of my close co-workers and a lot of people from other departments that I had never met but could very likely work with at some point in my career.  I like to keep my personal life private from strangers.  Yeah, so I started this blog.  

So, there we were outside sitting in a circle on the morning of the second day.  There were approximately 35 women there.  I honestly can only remember what 2 other people brought.  One, brought her hands.  Yes, you read it right, her hands.  God gave her hands to heal people through massage.  I am not religious.  When I was growing up I went to church and was even confirmed but only because my parents forced me.  I still don't even know what it means to be confirmed.  In my young mind, it meant I didn't have to go to church anymore.  After all, my mother "made a promise when I was baptized" and I was going to be confirmed.  After that, I could make my own decisions when it came to church and religion.  I will save my thoughts on religion and the fairy tale of god for another day.  I am getting off the subject. Hands!  I stifled my laugh, because no one else was laughing, at least not out loud.  It just sounded absurd to me. 

And then it happened, my close co-worker talked about a post from her blog.  Something about her Grandfather.  Memories.  Things she had learned.  How she missed him.  And, how therapeutic this blog has been for her.  The idea of starting my own blog never even occurred to me at the time.  I was more impressed with her writing.  It was so good!  I completely understood what she was trying to say.  

Now, keep in mind, writing was never my strong point.  In fact, it is one of the things I do worst.  I think I have a disorganized mind, if you haven't already figured that out, you soon will.  Not to mention, I have a limited vocabulary and my writing skills suck.  And so, I am always impressed with people that write really well.  I think of it as a talent.  A talent I was not gifted with.  

So, when I went home that evening (or early afternoon as it was) I went straight to the internet in search of her blog.  At the time, I am embarrassed to say, I was not even sure what a blog really was.  A search of her full name led me right to her blog.  Crazy!  All this personal info was right there for the taking.  I felt like I was reading her diary.  I learned a lot about her.  I had heard rumors at work about a medical issue she was having, but I don't believe rumors until I know they are true so I just filed the info in my head under 'unverified' and didn't really give it another thought.  Well, there was confirmation of the rumor and all the sad and dirty details.  There were posts about her family and friends.  Pictures too. Of course, I read every last one and then was left with a difficult question.  What do I do with all this info?  Do I tell her I read her very private and personal information?  I wanted to give her my support in this difficult time but she had no idea I even knew.   When I say she is a close co-worker, I mean she was working there when I started 6 years ago.  We work in the same (very large) department but don't always see each other every day.  On average I worked with her anywhere from a few days a month to once a week.  

So, I kept quiet.  I kept working with her and never said a word.  It wasn't easy.  Especially after I found out she and her husband had sold their house and were building a new house.  She didn't tell anyone at work about it.  How could I tell her I knew?  How about when she wrote about something that happened at work?  I wanted to tell her she handled it well and I hope, if put in the same uncomfortable situation, I would do the same thing.  But, I couldn't.  Then, I saw that she had applied for a job in a different department.  Of course she hadn't told anyone about that.  She was offered the job and listed the pros and cons of taking it.  Still kept quiet.  She accepted the job.  Finally another co-worker mentioned it a few days later.  Of course I acted surprised.  

After her good bye pot luck a thank you and good bye letter was posted on the door of the break room with her phone number, email address and a message to "keep in touch."  And, there it was at the very bottom of the letter, her blog address.  Finally, I could verbalize what I had been reading all this time.  It had been almost a year and I had just about slipped a few times but caught myself.  What a relief.  I could tell her I looked at it too, and she wouldn't think I was some sort of stalker.  She had, after all, posted the address for everyone in the whole place.  

My relief soon ended when I came to work a few days later and the blog address had been scribbled out in maker.  Who had done it?  Was it her?  Or someone else?  And, why?  Did she have second thoughts on sharing her life?  Now what was I going to do?  Go back to being quiet, and if you knew me, you would know that that is not an easy thing for me to do.  

So, now she is gone and I am still reading her blog.  I've even started reading some of the blogs on her blog roll, some of which are her family.  What is wrong with me?!  I am such a snoop, but isn't that what the internet is all about?  No privacy.  In my defense, if you don't want to world to know your business then you don't personally post it on the internet.  Its' one thing if someone else is posting about you, but if you put it out there, you must want people to read it, right?  I do.  And I love the anonymity of it.  It's probably because my own life is so boring, I find others lives so interesting.

Now this too, will be my dirty little secret.