Low Bentham

I feel guilty not having any photos posted lately, because I know, dear reader, that sometimes you just feel like looking at the pretty pictures instead of reading someone's droll words. I'm still figuring out this whole mac thing, and iPhoto, and so I haven't been able to upload any new pics. Or rather, the photos are all on the computer, I'm just having trouble organizing and finding them. So, for now, you can look at this photo of the village of Low Bentham in Lancashire, northwest England. It's where my parents lived for six months in 1996, while I was living an hour south in Lancaster. My dad recently put this photo on his flickr site, and I haven't ever seen it before. It gave me a twinge of homesickness.

Speaking of sick, yes, I am, thank you for asking. As a BMT and PICU nurse, I take care of some very sick people. People in varying degrees of organ failure, people with their mouths and esophagus ulcerated and bleeding, people with blistered skin falling off their bodies, people requiring constant infusions of pain medication, people with cancer, people who are dying. Therefore, sometimes I find it hard to complain about or even mention being sick, since I am obviously pretty well off compared to my patients. But jeeeeezus christ I feel like ass. Like a shitsickle warmed up and refrozen. My throat is scratchy and sore, my neck aches from swollen glands, my nose is blocked up and intermittently, my eyes are red and itchy and teary, my entire head is throbbing like it's caught in a vice, and my tummy is rumbling and nauseous. Today I felt a lot worse than the day before, so I'm hoping today was the low point and I can only get better from here.

I'm glad I'm single and I live alone, so I don't have to brush my hair or worry about how grody I sound when I cough. But being single kind of sucks because even though I'm a walking Sicky McFugliness, and I've called in sick from life, I still have to empty my own dishwasher and walk the dogs and go buy my own tissues with lotion and A & D ointment (for my raw, chapped nose. Don't laugh. I'm single and I can have a shiny red nose if I want. See the vicious cycle here?) Sure, a few well-meaning friends ask how I am and if they can bring me anything, but I can't really ask them to do the things I really want, like empty my dishwasher, or put the kettle on for the hot water bottle while you're up, can I? Plus I can hear the audible relief in their voices when I tell them I don't need anything, but thank you, and they are so relieved they don't have to venture over to the Sick House, risking their own health and eyesight upon glimpsing red-nosed-messy-haired-hacking Rosebuttons. I know how it is.

In other headlines from the Sick Couch, my fancy-ass graphite grey T-Mobile moto razr phone thinks its too good to accept text messages from Verizon phones. I can send and receive calls, and send texts, I just can't receive any. This may prove to be a bit of a problem considering my two friends have Verizon phones. And also considering I much prefer texting to speaking on the phone as a method of communication. Ugh.

The darling Matrix is back from the dealer's, although they were too busy to wash her inside and out so they "owe" me a wash. So, $165 later, she's happy and running great, but still a dirty lil' mofo.

I think I may still be covered under my previous health insurance, so instead of crying and beating myself up for not realizing this sooner, and instead of being pissed off that it's a freakin' holiday weekend and everything is shut (didn't we just have a freakin' holiday weekend? Get back to work, lazy America!), I shall take a deep breath and plan to get my headache meds filled as a three-month supply next week. Cross your fingers on that one.

Ok, my whining and complaining is done for now. Carry on as you were.

Shniffle

Ugh...still sick, reporting from the couch. Yesterday I got a brief and sudden spurt of time in which I wanted to clean and organize around 4pm, I'm hoping that hits again today. Until then, I want to do nothing more than lay on the couch, watch bad TV, and not stray too far from my tissue box.

I thought I had more to say. But I don't. Time for a nap.

Any chimp can play human for a day...

Just a cool line from Rilo Kiley, my latest favoritest album.

So the days count down, until I leave the country. I've done a few things, but I feel like the time is ticking by and nothing will get done.
Here's what I've accomplished so far:

• bought a new mobile phone (quadband, GSM)

• cancelled my previous mobile phone contract, because I couldn't use that phone outside of the US or Canada
• made an appointment to get my hair cut and my eyebrows waxed
• made a doctor's appointment
  

• suspended my cable TV and internet service (I'm using my neighbor's wireless service, and the cable won't be officially suspended until the day I leave. Live without my DVR? Are you kidding?)
• bought a converter/adapter kit for electrical thingies
• Saw Night at the Museum (okay, not exactly necessary for going abroad, but definitely necessary for my sanity)
• made an appointment for an oil change and check-up because my car's "check engine" light came on this morning
• balanced my checkbook and realized I can't afford the oil change, hair cut, brow wax, or new clothes until I get my paycheck advance from my foreign employers
• found out I probably don't have health insurance coverage after this month
• found out that I won't get my paycheck advance until I get to London
• bought lots of tiny travel things and generic OTC meds for my first aid kit to take with me
• Had to use some of the Airborne and zinc lozenges and cold medicine already for the runny nose and itchy sore throat that I have now

But anyway, somehow I guess everything will get done. Somehow I'll pay for what I need to pay for. And somehow I'll get to London.

Happy Boxing Day to all!

This is Ted and Stinky Duck, looking on sadly as I ignore him while I play with my new favorite toy, my wee Macbook. Photo taken by macbook itself. That's my leg on the left, you might recognize me by my polar fleece uniform that I am wearing in order to couch surf in the utmost style. And yep, I lists and lists of things to do before I leave the country in two (eek!) weeks but today I am being lazy and recovering from my 60 hour work week. I might nap now, then shower and go to Target and then the Verizon store in order to investigate the possibility of buying a cell phone that I can use in London and SA. Wish me luck. On the phone search, that is. Not so much on the napping or Target shopping, I do pretty good with those activities :)

Happy Christmas!

Happy and merry Christmas to you and all you love!

Oh. My. God. I just worked. 60 hours this week, five days in a row. Three days in the PICU, two in the hem-onc ICU. Today, at the eleventh hour (actually, the 57th hour, but who's counting?) my patient turned his stable, perfusing sinus rhythm into an atrial flutter, two-to-one conduction. Which means that his atrium squeezed about 300 beats per minute, and the ventricles squeezed 150 times per minute. That's pretty fast if you're my 100 kilogram 62-year-old male, and not my 5 kilogram 9-month female patient. An EKG was done, cardiology was called in, and excitedly decided to cardiovert the patient. They were super excited because he was already anticoagulated thanks to coumadin treatment for an aortic valve replacement ten years ago. It's not advisable to cardiovert the heart of a patient who may have been in this unstable atrial rhythm for a while without anticoagulation, because there's a risk they may have formed a clot in the atrium which would then be sent elsewhere in the body, plugging up important spaces in the lungs or brains or whatnot. Anyhoo, we sedated the patient, shocked him, and finally started an amiodarone drip which actually converted him. What I'm trying to say is that the last few hours of my excessively long stretch of working were filled with much too much activity and business and now I am so freakin' tired. And I have no idea why I'm telling you all about cardioversion instead of sitting back and watching the BBC and letting my brain melt away.

Santa decided I was a good girl this year, because a shiny white Macbook showed up two days ago on my doorstep! It is just so cute that I invited it inside and I think I'll keep it.

More later, as I recover. So, to sum up, in case you're wondering, working five twelve-hour days in a row sucks a lot.

Main Street, Yemen

If you know where this line is from, you are awesome: "When we get to Yemen, can I stay with you?"

Also, in Things That I Think Are Funny: While in B'ham this week, my dad told me about a news story involving a holiday display on someone's yard with a nativity scene. Someone stole the baby Jesus out of the manger, as often happens. Those baby Jesi must have a high black market value. Anyway, the family replaced the baby and it was stolen yet again. So, the family replaced the baby one more time. And yet again, it was stolen. However, this time, they found a note in its place. The note read: "IOU two baby jeez"

London calling, part two: The electric bugaloo

My dilly-dallying from a few days ago about "do I keep the apartment / do I put it all in storage" has been solved, by powers beyond my control (thank you, "Dangerous Liaisons," for my all-time favorite excuse). Turns out, THEY would like me to come to London on January 8th. Okay, fine, sort of short notice, but I can do it. However, I cannot (and will not!) pack up my apartment and move it all to a storage unit in about 20 days, while working and trying to tie up every other loose end in my life. MAYBE it's possible but I sure don't wanna do it, so I'm not gonna. Anyway, tomorrow I'm going to buy a ticket to London. From there I will eventually make my way to Saudi Arabia, and I will be chillin' in the desert for a few months...maybe until May. July, at the LATEST. But it all depends. On you know, trying to live in 120 degree heat, wearing an abaya and a niqab, eating rice and lamb, all that stuff. And over the next 20 days, I must buy an airline ticket (yes, I will be reimbursed!), a laptop, new clothes (on the more modest side), cancel my utilities, change my address (to where?! I don't know yet...), make copies of my passport, organize and file my papers, visit my doctor, load up on my prescriptions, buy oodles of dog food...sheesh, there's way more stuff. Oh yeah, tell my boss I'm leaving. That's a biggie. On top of all that stuff, say good-bye to my family and friends and my wee precious niece and my dogs and try really hard not to cry every minute of the day because it would really hinder my plans of getting all this stuff done. Each time I picture saying goodbye to the dogs, I well up. I'm going to be a mess.

The weirdest? Thinking that I won't be wearing pants or driving a car for so long. I have so much more to say about this bizarre adventure I'm about to embark on...I think in the near future I will start another blog devoted to it...and I think I will call it Arabian Nightshifts.

Now, back to knitting tiny things. Distraction is a wonderful stress reliever.

A very Buttons holiday

Greetings from my favorite holiday getaway, Bellingham! Since my actual xmas weekend will consist of 60 hours of taking care of sickies, I'm spending a few days up here with my wee family. Not wee as in Roloff wee (dude, I love those guys!), but wee as in just me, mum, and dad. Well, and three small dogs. But anyway. So far it's been lovely, and we are "celebrating" in true Buttons family fashion. There is a wee tree, Norfolk pine, with a few wee gifts underneath. Our holiday meal tonight was Japanese, following by a driving Tour of Lights with appropriate "ooohs" and "ahhhhs" and lots of excitement over the dancing Santa. The slowly moving electric light-up reindeer, also appropriately creepy for the holidays, were our second favorites. Then we all curled up under blankets with a couch and a dog apiece, and watched Sense and Sensibility while mum did her crossword, I knit, and dad read the latest New Yorker. With our cups of tea and biscuits, of course. Tomorrow perhaps we will open some gifts and then head off to a matinee. Ahh, good times.

I promise to show you photos of this years' woolie gifts and the warm and toasty recipients, as soon as pressies are opened tomorrow!

Blow me away

So last night it was a bit windy here in Seattle. If you were actually in the Puget Sound area last night, you'll know that statement is the understatement of the year. I was having trouble sleeping anyway, probably because a.) it was night time, and I'm noctornal, and b.) my afternoon nap was too late in the afternoon. For some reason, the wind was way noisier in my bedroom than the living room, so I ended up on the couch with the doggies, sort of half-sleeping, and developing a headache. So I called in sick for my shift today and went back to sleep until 10am. When I re-awoke then, I was dismayed to find my cable TV and internet were down, although I fortunately did have electricity, which is apparently more than a lot of Seattle could claim. I spent a very lonely and quiet day watching movies and reading and knitting. To be completely honest, it's fairly close to how I usually spend my days off, except for the fact that since I couldn't watch cable TV or check my email or pretend to shop online, I was itching with boredom. But now the cable is back, and lo, there is nothing on worth watching. And no emails of any interest, and surfing the internet sounds boring. I'm such a brat.

I have a bit of a housing dilemma. I have to move out of my place when I go...well, over there. So naturally I'll have to give up the apartment, although I adore it, and it's perfect for me and my wienie kids, and I don't want to rent anywhere else. I have to move all my stuff into storage, then when I get back, I have to stay with my parents or friends until I a.) buy a house and move into it, or b.) find an apartment and move my stuff into it only to re-move again in a few months when I finally buy a house. This plan sort of sounds reasonable on first glance. But it is complicated by two very important points: I hate moving. I hate packing, cleaning, moving, everything. I don't so much hate the unpacking part of it but that's not really the point. And in this plan, I have to move twice. Maybe three times. And secondly, I can't stand living with other people. No matter who they are, I hate sharing my space. I wish I could just return from...over there and go house shopping, pick a place I like, and move into it, all within a week. The only other alternative to this plan is to keep my apartment, keep paying rent on it and not move my stuff out, and it will be here, waiting for me when I get back, then when I find a place to buy, I'll move then. Unfortunately, that lovely plan is a bit more expensive than renting a storage locker and sucking it up living with friends or family. Ugh. Did I mention how much I cringe at the thought of having to put on pants to go to the bathroom? Or not being able to watch what I want on TV all the time? I know, I'm a brat.

What I learned today

1. Baby-sitters are allowed to break some rules. Despite what so-called child-rearing experts say about making the baby fall asleep on their own in their little cribs, sometimes a sleepy warm baby on your chest is enough to make you fall asleep yourself, and share a lovely nap with the baby. I had the best of intentions of getting up to put the blinky-eye-rubby baby into her crib to sleep, but well....

2. Saudi Arabia is a particularly frightening, corrupt, and fundamentalist part of the world.

3. Headache pills are worth more than their weight in gold, not only to me. When I opened my new box of pills and found only half the amount that was supposed to be there, I cried. A lot. Then cried some more because I was so befuddled by my own crying over headache pills. And then I cried some more because I was so sad that the difference between having headache pills and not having headache pills makes such a huge difference to my quality of life. As in, a life that I would like to have apart from laying prostrate on the couch in the dark trying not to breathe too hard because even breathing hurts. So I am either taking them in my sleep or there is a stupid or corrupt pharmacist out there who has my precious pills in his pocket. I'm going to call the pharmacy tomorrow to talk to a manager but I'm not sure I'll be able to do it without crying.

4. Using the deposit function on an ATM machine delays the posting of your check to your account by several precious days, causing annoying "insufficient funds" charges to be posted to your account in the meantime. Next time, walk inside the bank.

Urgh. I'm hungry. And I'm really freakin' sick of having a headache.

Back and forth and back again....

The past week I haven't really been able to see straight since when I close my eyes all I see are lists of pros and cons scrolling past. It is, of course, the age-old classic question: Should I stay or should I go? More exactly, should I stay here and continue along in my fairly comfortable if vaguely unexciting life, OR should I take off for three-ish months (depending on whether you use the lunar or the julian calendar), live on the Red Sea in Saudi Arabia working as a private nurse for a foreign dignitary? Complicating the matter are the issues that I've just started a new job which I love, I would have to give up my apartment and find someone to take care of my dogs, but I would be making nearly a year's salary in those three months time. Then throw into the mix other random worries which creep into my mind...how will I get my prescription headache medicine? Will I have to eat lamb? Am I really okay with the government keeping my passport and visa while I am there, having to where a niqaab and abaya, and not laughing in public? My boss turned out to be super supportive, and said that I should go, and I'd always have a job here when I got back. Phew. My friend S offered to take care of my doggies for me, and nobody except me loves them as much as her, so double phew. My friend J offered to help me sit down and literally make lists of lists in order to prepare to go, so phew again. Then my family said uh-uh. Don't go. And other assorted things related to public beheadings and misogynistic theocracies. *screeeech.* (those are the brakes.) My family has never ever asked me NOT to do something. Well, not since I was four and I was told never to cut the cat's whiskers off again. But they've otherwise been very supportive of everything that I wanted to do, whether or not they truly agreed with me, they stood behind me. So now I'm all a-fluster and rattled again.

I'll admit, the money, whether it be blood/oil money or not, is really tempting. The carrot dangling in front of my face, promising paid-off credit cards, student loans gone, a down-payment on my very own house, a pony, is almost more than I can resist. Then there's just the whole experience of it all, the opportunity to see a part of the world and a culture that I would never otherwise be able to.

I need more headache medicine, these lists are making my head hurt.

Bah humbug

Nothing like trying to do some routine errands on an otherwise uneventful random Tuesday afternoon in December to bring out my holiday spirit. However, in my case, "holiday spirit" refers to growing amounts of frustration and increasing periods of shouting at other drivers, giving people the finger, and loudly reminding people in the post office that the line started back there and they just cut in front of me. Yes, I'm that person, the person who hates the Blue Angels, and grumbles throughout the holiday season. I'm the big wet blanket, the wet weekend in Bournemouth, whichever expression you choose. Because you should have been telling those people who you are buying unnecessary, overpriced, underused gifts for that you think they're swell throughout the year, but you waited until December because Hallmark and the Temples of Consumer Greed (i.e. malls) tell you to.

Anyway, I'm a scosh on the crabby side today, something that I hope a jacket potato with tuna and corn, a movie about crossword puzzles, and some knitting will sort out. I think I'm just a bit down over the death of Elizabeth I. Okay, so I know it was in 1603, but I just watched Helen Mirren's portrayal of it last night, and it was terribly moving and well-done, so I'm just a bit down.

And also, nothing like some holiday traffic and stupid drivers to make me feel like throwing on an abaya and checking out of Western society for several months. Did I mention my latest job opportunity? I'm sort of keeping it mum until things become more certain, but I'm sure I'm already at the top of several government lists for my recent google searches alone. Stay tuned.

Proof of snow

This was the view from my parent's living room window in Bellingham, as it dawned on me that I would not be driving back to Seattle that day. I did eventually make it home, obviously, after knitting several more hats and hot water bottle cozies.

I worked two days of 'per diem' at my old job this week. The first day wasn't too bad, just had one intubated patient, fairly smooth going. The second day sucked ass, and the unit was crazy as well, but I was kind of glad. It was a nice reminder as to why I left, and that I made the right decision for myself. And so as to not interrupt my two-year stretch of not letting my patients die on my shift, I left at 3:30 when my shift ended although the patient's withdrawal of life support was going to start within the hour. Also, kudos to Dr W, who was the most direct that I've heard any doctor be with family on our unit. "Your wife is going to die. If we allow things to continue as they are now, she will die within the week. Probably closer to 48 hrs. Maybe sooner. Her disease has already made that decision for her. But you have the decision to make about how she will die." Sounds harsh, but he somehow conveyed the utmost compassion, empathy, and wisdom in that statement. And, cancer scores again.

Today I went into work then found out I wasn't supposed to be there. Oops. My surprise day off was lovely though, I managed a trip to Target and two naps.

Snow day

So yesterday I was supposed to drive back home from Bellingham, but sometime in the afternoon it seemed like a better idea just to take a little nap on the couch and relax with my knitting for the evening and just drive home this morning. However, the snow storm that came in overnight sort of changed those plans and now I'm stuck. Funny how yesterday, I was reluctant to leave but today I'm desparate for my own house, and gray, mean rainy Seattle. I miss my dishwasher, clean clothes, and fast internet connection. The doggies are missing going outside and not being buried in snow. The "storm" isn't very bad, it's still quite warm outside, and about 6 inches have fallen so far. Nothing compared to Wisconsin standards. However, the lack of a snow plow or salt or sand trucks makes it suck a million times worse than a Wisconsin storm. Not to mention the other drivers on the road, who I won't even get started with. Let me just note however, that contrary to popular belief, "four-wheel-drive" does not actually mean, "Magic ability to drive in any weather condition without adjusting your driving." Because nursing license or not, if I see you driving like an idiot in your SUV and swerving to a stop into a telephone pole because you thought 4-wheel-drive meant "don't bother increasing your braking distance," I'm not getting out of my warm car to help you. Ok, I might get out because of ethics/shmetics, but as soon as I grab your empty head and hold your neck in traction, while I'm looking at you and assessing how much you're bleeding, I'm going to remind you that you're an awful driver and maybe next time you'll actually assess road conditions and use a little of the common sense you probably just bled out. Anyway. Maybe I'm crabby. But unless you grew up in the midwest, get your ass off the roads. Unless you are driving the ONE snow plow that Bellingham might own. I think I'm being overly optimistic on that one though. Now look, I got all worked up about other drivers.

Change of venue

First of week of new job, which I guess soon will just be "job," is done. So far, it's pretty good. It's still early days, of course, but I think I will like it there.

I used to work at a place I affectionately and bitterly called the "Last Chance Motel." Because it was. People came there for the last-ditch treatment option, after failing several other treatments. They are supposedly aware of the risks of the treatment, but are willing to risk it in order to buy themselves a few months or even years of more time with their loved ones. Or they come because they just can't "give up" or they are incurably optimistic or only believe that complications and side effects happen to other people. Whatever their reasons, they showed up, bald, smiling bravely, with sad worried eyes. Anyway, I always felt a cloud of resignation hanging over my head, over everything we did. It sounds horrible, but when every one of my patients had the same outcome, regardless of what we did, how hard we fought, it's hard not to get resigned to it. When a blood culture came back positive for gram negative rods, we sighed our collective sigh, our shoulders drooped, and we reflexively ordered the appropriate antibiotics. In the back of my head I would think that I wasn't surprised, it was only a matter of time, and wondered if this would be the straw that would help our patient to the inevitable end just a little bit faster. Because it was the Last Chance Motel. We tried really hard, and we kept hoping, believing that sometime, some patient has to be the one who makes it. But really, we were waiting for the families to realize what we all already knew.

At the new job, I think I'm going to call it the Not Fair Club. Not because anyone anywhere ever deserves to get cancer or to get sick, but because kids are supposed to be playing outside and wrestling with their siblings and whining for more candy and laughing, and when you're a kid life is supposed to be simple and easy and most arguments can be countered with a big ol' "But it's not fair!" Because when you're a kid life is supposed to be fair. So lying in a hospital bed with tubes in every orifice and sutures across your belly and almost nearly dying because the tumor they just took out of you weighed almost as much as you really isn't fair. So we aren't resigned to any outcomes here, the only acceptable outcome is getting that kid out of that bed and home again so he can pull his brother's hair and smear peas on his face and make his mom laugh again. So when his blood cultures come back positive for gram negative rods our hearts drop and we stamp our feet and pout, "Damn it! It's not fair!" and we order those antibiotics and we check and double check that they are the best ones possible and we didn't miss anything.

Hrm. It's hard to talk about the old job without sounding heartless and dead inside, but I just can't really phrase it right I think.

Anyway, happy thanksgiving to those of you choosing to celebrate genocide and barbaric empiricism with gluttony and excess. Heh. I like the way that sounds. Don't worry, it's not like I would ever turn down a day off of work or a large tasty feast. I'm going to eat Greek food and see a matinee and hang out with my family in Bellingham.

Home again

Yes, I'm back safe and sound. Yes, I have hundreds of photos to pick through and upload and share with you. Yes, it was totally worth it and the best trip ever and I'm so super glad that I went. Yes, I nearly stayed. It was much closer than you think. Job offers from foreign dignitaries involving obscene amounts of cash can make one seriously rethink one's career direction. I'd love to tell you more but then I'd have to kill you. Besides, negotiations are still open. Never say never, especially if you can get a pony out of the deal.

But I will tell you more about the trip. And the "real" job that I started yesterday. Once I catch up on sleep, get un-jet-lagged (I'm not really jetlagged, I don't think I actually get jet-lagged, but it's a glamorous excuse for not having cleaned my apartment, caught up on emails or the blog, and yawning a lot at work.)

In the meantime, here's a preview of trip highlights:

Day One: Land at Heathrow (early!), take the tube to the hotel where I'm staying, and notice that this is the view from my window. Spend the rest of the day exploring London via Hyde Park, Oxford Street, and end the evening with the East End and Jack the Ripper.

Day Two: Revel more in the history of London, starting with the Tower, ending somewhere around Trafalgar Square with some famous portraits in between.

Day Three: Continue meeting my old Tudor buddies, at Hampton Court, after cruising high above London to check out some awesome views.

There is much more, including a train ride to York (complete with a train station baguette and a copy of OK magazine! Anyone else get how fun that is?!), driving on the other side of the road, finding the East Coast of England, an abbey built in a triple-digit year, the most beautiful church ever, and 49 hours with one of my dearest friends. But, as I already mentioned, I'm jet lagged. So I'm off to bed. I promise, photos tomorrow.

The great outerwear crisis

You guessed it, there was bowling going on last night. A fabulous birthday party for my fabulous friend, complete with cupcakes, bowling, and a Tom Collins drink special. Good times.


It was but a brief respite from the Great Outerwear Crisis (GOC) and the overall Getting Ready for London hoopla, although I am handling it fairly well. I have Outerwear #1, a black 3-in-1 parka, waterproof, rainproof, with a cozy fleece liner that I am taking. Both for dark and rainy London but moreso for the days out on the Yorkshire moors. BUT yesterday my new fabulous raincoat/trenchcoat arrived from England. Here is a photo that looks uncannily just like me modeling it:

I know I know, the resemblace is creepy. But I digress. So this coat, Outerwear #2, is waterproof but, in spite of the removable quilted liner, not quite as warm at Outerwear #1. However, it is infinitely more stylish and just plain CUTER and this is LONDON folks. Park Lane, to be exact. And now I am thinking that the a good compromise would a wool peacoat...and the awareness of the Nordstrom Half-Yearly sale in the back of my mind...

So now I must go back to more immediate concerns, since I leave TOMORROW (can I put any more words in CAPS in this post?!) such as cleaning the house (hate coming home to a week-old mess! Plus, it's just sort of polite for the person who has to stay here with the wee doggies), packing (bringing us right back to the GOC!), and possibly finding time to go to Nordstrom. Oh! And finalizing my itinerary. So far, here's the plan:

Monday: Arrive in London. Ignore fatigue and jetlag. Breakfast with my friends, walk across Hyde Park to the Victoria and Albert Museum.

Tuesday: Train to Hampton Court. Tate Britain in late afternoon, if time? Jack the Ripper tour at night.

Wednesday: Tower of London in the morning, National Gallery and Portrait Gallery in afternoon. V & A is open late that night in case I didn't make it on Monday.

Thursday: Walk across St James Park, Cabinet War Rooms, take a picture of 10 Downing Street? Train to York in afternoon. Pick up rental car, meet E, eat takeaway and stay up till all hours giggling over Dawson's Creek.

Friday: Tour the Yorkshire moors, including Robin Hood's Bay, Rievaulx Abbey, and Whitby. Maybe ghost walk at night?

Saturday: Depending on the weather, drive up to Alnwick and maybe even Bamburgh. OR bop around York, the minster, the York wheel, yarn shops, the ghost walk.

Sunday: Get up wayyyy to early, drive down to London Heathrow, catch my flight home. Cry a bit.

There, sounds doable doesn't it? Your suggestions, either for solving the GOC or for the intinerary, are welcome. Get ready for many many many photos upon my return!!

London calling

Tonight is my last real shift on my unit. I'm pretty much in some kind of denial over it, since I've signed on to work there per diem (filling in for a minimum of a shift per month) so I keep telling myself that I'll be back, it won't be that different. But of course it will: I won't be spending around 40 hours per week there, with the same people, doing the same things, anymore. I will miss everyone but I'm hoping that the people I will truly miss are the people I see outside of work anyway, so we will just make more concerted efforts to make plans and see each other. I will miss our patients and their families, but I will meet new ones. Mostly I'm sure I will miss it the most once I start at the new place...I will miss the sense of familiarity with a place, the consistency, the comfort. But familiarity, consistency, and comfort are also words for complacency and boredom, so I still know that I am doing the right thing.

And I'm a bit distracted anyway....did I mention that I'm going to London on Sunday?! Yes, this Sunday!! I'm so so so so excited. I'm bursting. Simply bursting. I'm picturing myself on a big jumbo jet taking off over across the pond with my iPod (eek! Must update the iPod!) on and my knitting in my lap (eek! Which project shall I bring with me? Are knitting needles okay on the plane?! What IS okay to bring on the plane!?) and an Elizabeth George mystery, or perhaps a book on the War of the Roses, on my lap and my bucky pillow around my neck and I get all smily and fluttery and happy. My Must-See in London List keeps growing, but the Tate Modern, the V & A, the Tate Britain (and the Tate-toTate Ferry! Do you love that?!) top it, the Tower of London is of course a MUST, I'd like to get on the London Eye if I can, walk through Hampstead Heath and Hyde Park, down Oxford Street....oh! And there's an entire museum about Florence Nightingale!! Oh! And the National Gallery and National Portrait Gallery. And must consider if I can make it to Hampstead Court as well. Eek. After three days in London, I'll head up to York to see the fabulous E, where we'll rent some mini-micro-impossibly-wee car and toodle about the Yorkshire moors and hopefully even Northumberland, stopping only for sheep crossings and to eat cheese sarnies and drink tea and poke about in castles (Bolton Castle, Castle Howard, and Alnwick top that list) and ramble down narrow cobblestoned streets (Durham, Whitby and Richmond top that list) and take countless photos. However, lists aside, if nothing at all gets done off the lists but I simply spend six days sitting in pubs, drinking cider and sometimes a Guiness with black currant, eating pub food and reading the Guardian, it will all be okay. It will be wonderful. I only lived in England for six months (ten years ago!) and have only been back twice to visit since then, yet all this planning and anticipation still feels like a homecoming...instead of saying "I'm going to England," I keep feeling, "I'm going back to England."

Small things

Last night, I arrived at work and chatted for a bit with the day shift RN about my orange hat (which she recognized from the Stitch N Bitch book!) and glimpsed my patient's wife and daughter in his room. I didn't get a chance to say hello, but thought I'd see them once my shift started. When I came back for report, the day nurse told me they had gone home. "Once they found out you were his nurse again, they felt comfortable enough to leave and get some sleep tonight," she said. Aw. Jeez.

Later, Dr. McAwesome put an arterial line into my patient (a beautiful one! A work of art! Pardon the really really bad pun). He joked that the patient didn't really need one but he was looking for an excuse to spend more time with me on our last night together. Then he stopped by in a bit to check on things. "Everything ok, Rose?"
"Yep, he's fine, the line works great, his pressure is normal," I said.
"No, with you, how are YOU?" he joked.
"Oh, I'm great. A bit hungry, I would love a sandwich, but overall, I'm feeling great!"
He laughed and continued on down the hall.

A bit later, a huge tray of sandwiches appeared in our break room. Dr. McAwesome truly lives up to his name.

Early in the morning, Charge Nurse, Nurse J, and I were chatting about the frustrating inability of certain medical teams to make decisions. "Seriously, they need to shit or get off the pot," I added. Suddenly J looked alarmed and jumped up. "That reminds me, I left my patient on the bedpan!" and she darted down the hall.

Ok, this was valuable time I could have spent eating Easy Mac, yet I chose to share those little pearls from my night with you. Aww.

Gotta run. Hope no one floats aware in this flooding rain. But seriously, in the rain's defence, at least this is hard-core, sheets of rain, lakes of water kind of rain. None of that pissy spitty rain we usually get. Bring it.

Just playing around

I've updated my avatar, to the left, to show me at work. Yup, there's Nurse Rose, diligently taking care of her critically ill patient, wondering if anyone else has noticed that gorilla in the room named Death.

I'll probably change it tomorrow because that's kind of grim and macabre, even for me. But some days, like the gray days that it rains nonstop and I've only had 24 hours off to recover from work but must go back tonight, those days it's hard to find a lighter side.

Three nights left!