Today started out not to good but at least it ended well...
I woke up around 9 with a horrible migraine, after dreaming that I was having a headache for probably a few hours. So I took my magic little pill, which chased away the headache but left me sleepy and drugged when I finally woke up around noon. I spent the next few hours on the phone with credit union people and bill people, getting increasingly frustrating answers and no helpful information. I battled homecoming traffic to the hospital to have my TB test read (good news: I don't have TB!) then I battled Friday afternoon grocery store moms (but found a sale on diet Coke!) then battled more homecoming traffic back home. By then I was so hungry, frustrated, and annoyed, that I took a nap. I'm a good napper.
But then I woke up, showered, and went to go hear Bill Bryson talk. And he was funny and amusing and I'm so glad I went. Then I met a fellow, J, for a drink on Capitol Hill. He turned out to be a red-headed Jewish PhD candidate from Pittsburgh. He was taller than me and didn't have girly hands. He was funny in that self-deprecating academic way that only Jews and academics can be. In case you don't me at all, those are all very very good things, on my list of "People I want to spend time with."
So, I am now a happier girl than when I woke up. I am going to knit, watch Big Love, then read another chapter in the Biography of Elizabeth. Ahhh, life is good. Well, it's not so bad.
Saturday, October 28, 2006
Things that are sweet
Although of course this entire little baby is the sweetest, cutest thing, and there isn't anything about her that isn't adorable, I love this photo because it highlights that perfect smooshable cheek, that tiny kissable ear, and those wee little fingers....my favorite bits.
Friday, October 27, 2006
outdated!
That's me, I'm out-dated. I've dated too much this week. Ugh. I don't even have the energy to update you on each of the fellows...I used it all up straightening my hair and smiling a lot. Tonight I took the night off to knit and watch Big Love and eat gnocchi in vodka sauce and of course I drank some more Argentinian wine. I have a magnet on my fridge that says, "Sorry I can't go on a date with you, I need to stay home and knit." Oh, so true.
Is it true that Lexus makes a car that can parallel park itself? Because I saw it on a commercial, so it has to be true. And I am truly disgusted. Us true parallel parkers (doing it the old-fashioned way, with my hands on the steering wheel...I know, CRAZY!) must refuse to be replace by a machine. Parallel parking is a skill, a true art-form if you will. And I will. Yep, in two moves, that's right, and I'm proud of my skills. So I thumb my nose at you, Lexus, and you lazy Lexus-drivers. If you can't parallel park your own car, then a.) Stay off the road, Soccer Mom, or b.) Find yourself a cozy little parking garage and pull that sucker in head first. Ugh. I hope your parallel-parking computer in your fancy-ass Lexus breaks and there you will be, double-parked, wondering why everyone who actually knows how to drive also knows how to use their horn. Does the Lexus beep at other drivers for you too, when they cut you off? Then make you a latte? Can you hear that noise? Listen closely. That's me gagging. On your Lexus exhaust.
Is it true that Lexus makes a car that can parallel park itself? Because I saw it on a commercial, so it has to be true. And I am truly disgusted. Us true parallel parkers (doing it the old-fashioned way, with my hands on the steering wheel...I know, CRAZY!) must refuse to be replace by a machine. Parallel parking is a skill, a true art-form if you will. And I will. Yep, in two moves, that's right, and I'm proud of my skills. So I thumb my nose at you, Lexus, and you lazy Lexus-drivers. If you can't parallel park your own car, then a.) Stay off the road, Soccer Mom, or b.) Find yourself a cozy little parking garage and pull that sucker in head first. Ugh. I hope your parallel-parking computer in your fancy-ass Lexus breaks and there you will be, double-parked, wondering why everyone who actually knows how to drive also knows how to use their horn. Does the Lexus beep at other drivers for you too, when they cut you off? Then make you a latte? Can you hear that noise? Listen closely. That's me gagging. On your Lexus exhaust.
Friday, October 20, 2006
Size matters
It's no secret that I love tiny things, miniature things, diminuitive things....you get the picture. And it's probably no secret that I love England, Great Britain, London, all things from the UK.... so it follows (I loved doing corrollaries in geometry) that I LOVE this. Love it.
Thursday, October 19, 2006
You just keep me hangin' on...
Mr. F passed away yesterday. He had a soft-tissue infection just over his left hip bone, the result of an infected bone marrow biopsy site. After a couple of I & Ds in the OR and many many surgeons poking, debriding, cauterizing, stitching...and many many RNs packing, re-dressing, lavaging, infusing platelets, cursing surgeons...anyway, the infection was about the size of a melon. Well, the amount of flesh missing was would have been the size of a melon. It was horrible but fascinating. Poor fellow.
Anyway, the topic of this post was my musing that despite the fact that about 95% of my patients die within a few weeks of their time with me, and although I've been an RN for nearly two years, and although I've wrapped countless post-mortem bodies and handed countless boxes of tissue to family members and silently hugged grieving spouses/children/siblings/friends, never has MY patient expired on MY shift. Ok, wait, one did...a young women who we withdrew care on during my orientation in the ICU. They always wait till I go home...at least a few hours, sometimes a whole shift, then they go. Weird.
Tomorrow I'm off to my favorite little city, Portland. I've got some new CDs for the car ride (the new Beck and Portland's own, The Decemberists), a list of "needs" from Powell's, and my fleece. Really, I don't need anything more.
Of course I will miss this little face:
But he will be in good hands, getting lots of little doggie snacks and belly rubs and play time with his stinky duck. Now, I must be off to bed, I have to get through my biography of Elizabeth I before I move onto the story of Mary Stuart and the "mysterious" murder of her asshole husband, Lord Darnley. This stuff is better than soap operas!
Oh, no word from my new boss on the possibility of changing my start date. Looks like Europe may have to wait....
Anyway, the topic of this post was my musing that despite the fact that about 95% of my patients die within a few weeks of their time with me, and although I've been an RN for nearly two years, and although I've wrapped countless post-mortem bodies and handed countless boxes of tissue to family members and silently hugged grieving spouses/children/siblings/friends, never has MY patient expired on MY shift. Ok, wait, one did...a young women who we withdrew care on during my orientation in the ICU. They always wait till I go home...at least a few hours, sometimes a whole shift, then they go. Weird.
Tomorrow I'm off to my favorite little city, Portland. I've got some new CDs for the car ride (the new Beck and Portland's own, The Decemberists), a list of "needs" from Powell's, and my fleece. Really, I don't need anything more.
Of course I will miss this little face:
But he will be in good hands, getting lots of little doggie snacks and belly rubs and play time with his stinky duck. Now, I must be off to bed, I have to get through my biography of Elizabeth I before I move onto the story of Mary Stuart and the "mysterious" murder of her asshole husband, Lord Darnley. This stuff is better than soap operas!
Oh, no word from my new boss on the possibility of changing my start date. Looks like Europe may have to wait....
Tuesday, October 17, 2006
So sorry!
Have you missed me? I am a horribly neglectful bloggie friend.
First, it's official, I've given notice at Old Job and accepted New Job. So good-bye oncology ICU, hello pediatric ICU! I'm so super excited and scared to death and a bit sad and a lot nervous. But overall, it feels like the right thing and the right time to be doing this.
I have ten shifts left at Old Job, and suddenly last night decided it might be nice to hop over to Europe in between jobs, to treat myself and rest and rejuvenate my spirit, etc. So I'm attempting to get my start date moved back by a week, which would give me 12 days off. I'm leaning towards a brief but juicy tour of Budapest and Prague, although Amsterdam and Paris is a close second. But I've always wanted to go to Glasgow and tour the art and architecture of Charles Rennie Mackintosh. Plus the Scots are just awesome people. Then there's always the idea of just flying into London or Manchester, renting a car, and spending a week touring cold drafty castles during the day and sitting in warm toasty pubs with E at night, eating a lot of fish and chips and laughing our arses off at Dawson's Creek. Any ideas/suggestions? Of course this is all dependent on getting my start date moved and scraping together a small pile of cash...
Boys and dates in general, super lame. I'm tired of all the weirdos. And metrosexuals? You all need your own dating website. Or least you must identify yourself as such on your profiles. Because nothing makes me want to flee the restaurant faster then seeing you and the hair-with-product in it and your casual-yet-expensive jacket and your twitchy too-small hands. Somehow, not attractive. Give me mismatched flannel and endearingly out of place hair, along with big man hands, any day.
First, it's official, I've given notice at Old Job and accepted New Job. So good-bye oncology ICU, hello pediatric ICU! I'm so super excited and scared to death and a bit sad and a lot nervous. But overall, it feels like the right thing and the right time to be doing this.
I have ten shifts left at Old Job, and suddenly last night decided it might be nice to hop over to Europe in between jobs, to treat myself and rest and rejuvenate my spirit, etc. So I'm attempting to get my start date moved back by a week, which would give me 12 days off. I'm leaning towards a brief but juicy tour of Budapest and Prague, although Amsterdam and Paris is a close second. But I've always wanted to go to Glasgow and tour the art and architecture of Charles Rennie Mackintosh. Plus the Scots are just awesome people. Then there's always the idea of just flying into London or Manchester, renting a car, and spending a week touring cold drafty castles during the day and sitting in warm toasty pubs with E at night, eating a lot of fish and chips and laughing our arses off at Dawson's Creek. Any ideas/suggestions? Of course this is all dependent on getting my start date moved and scraping together a small pile of cash...
Boys and dates in general, super lame. I'm tired of all the weirdos. And metrosexuals? You all need your own dating website. Or least you must identify yourself as such on your profiles. Because nothing makes me want to flee the restaurant faster then seeing you and the hair-with-product in it and your casual-yet-expensive jacket and your twitchy too-small hands. Somehow, not attractive. Give me mismatched flannel and endearingly out of place hair, along with big man hands, any day.
Thursday, October 05, 2006
Change of Shift
It's up, it's official, the new Change of Shift over at Emergiblog. Head on over to read bits and bobs from the inner workings of nurse's minds, it's not for the faint of heart, but it is truly engrossing :) And of course, there's a little something from yours truly...
OH! I got to go to the morgue last night! These next 16 shifts will be filled with "I've always wanted to...". When the guy (totally blanking on his job title) came to pick up the body in room 34 (who was also a daddy, a son, a husband, a victim of a horrible disease, but mostly a really awesome guy, but I'm sure HIPAA prefers I just call him the body...) I helped him roll the black-shrouded 'mystery' cart downstairs. Then I helped him attach chains to sling under the white-plastic zipped up body-shaped parcel, attach the chains to the hydradaulic lift, raise the body off the cart, drop it down onto another stainless steel 'stretcher' and roll on into the refridgerated compartment. He then slammed the door shut, taped a stamped name-sticker to the door, and that was that. Full circle.
OH! I got to go to the morgue last night! These next 16 shifts will be filled with "I've always wanted to...". When the guy (totally blanking on his job title) came to pick up the body in room 34 (who was also a daddy, a son, a husband, a victim of a horrible disease, but mostly a really awesome guy, but I'm sure HIPAA prefers I just call him the body...) I helped him roll the black-shrouded 'mystery' cart downstairs. Then I helped him attach chains to sling under the white-plastic zipped up body-shaped parcel, attach the chains to the hydradaulic lift, raise the body off the cart, drop it down onto another stainless steel 'stretcher' and roll on into the refridgerated compartment. He then slammed the door shut, taped a stamped name-sticker to the door, and that was that. Full circle.
Saturday, September 30, 2006
randomity
That's my new made up word.
Last week I went out with J, a night nurse, and we apparently had a wonderful time. We had Vietnamese food, then continued on for coffee and cheesecake, then even walked in the park a bit. We stayed up until 1:00am, and the next day I was all happy and giddy and couldn't wait to see him again. Three days pass, and now I no longer want to see him again. We exchanged a few emails, the usual, "I had a great time, hope we can do it again." So that's not the problem. I have no idea what happened inside my head, except that the happy giddy feeling has been replaced and now I just feel weird about him, not entirely comfortable, and am remembering the not-so-good things rather than the "aww" things about the date. Nothing in particular was "not-so-good," so I'm having a really hard time explaining this. Except that now it's bothering me that he never asked the names of my dogs, and I think he was kind of pushy and cocky. Last night he called a couple of times, but didn't leave a message. In case I haven't mentioned this before, I'm really big on a few little things, like phone etiquette. Like, I obviously KNOW that you called (twice!) so a normal, polite thing to do would be to leave a simple message and I will call you back when I can. Do you think that if you call more than once, I will eventually be fooled into wondering what that funny beepy sound is, coming from this small piece of gray plastic, and press the start button?! Anyway, I'm confused by myself on this one. I just don't want to see him again. So there.
Last night little Ted was very ill, it was very heartbreaking. The vomiting and diarrhea are no fun of course, but it's even sadder to see him so lethargic and depressed. I ordered a pizza, and he slept in the other room the whole time I was eating! He was too sickies to even scratch his butt. This morning he seemed a bit peppier, although rather annoyed that all he got for breakfast was rice. I may go get him some boiled chicken (can I buy it pre-boiled? I don't want to touch it raw. And how does one boil chicken? Should I just cut it up, then throw it into boiling water?!) and cottage cheese for his dinner, maybe that will be more appetizing while remaining bland enough for his upset tummy. I also want to give him pedialyte for dehydration and metronidazole for a tummy bug and draw his electrolytes, but I must just be a doggy-mom first and a nurse second. Sigh.
In exciting news, this week I discovered these. Go look! NOW! And now I must look to my left in order to see myself, because I am absolutely BESIDE MYSELF in the cuteness that these things are. Can you even STAND it?! Can you IMAGINE the lambs?! ARGH! So I am well chuffed (and British, for a moment, apparently) that my dream farm, of miniature animals, will truly be complete. The pygmy goats, mini horses, and wee piggies will be pleased to have some wooly friends.
I have a job interview this week (shhhhh). I am super excited and nervous, not so much over the interview itself, but that if I get this new job, of the transition I will have to make. And it's a strange thing to reconcile in my mind, because I love my current job. I love the unit, and my co-workers, and my patients and their families. I love the work we do, the teaching and research environment, the support of the whole medical team, and the sunrises. But I don't love the medically futile things that we do, when I stop doing things FOR the patient and do things TO him, when people aren't afforded the dignity of dying peacefully and when they are ready. I don't love taking care of someone for weeks and weeks and always losing them in the end. I feel like a weenie because there are many wonderful nurses in our ICU who have been doing this for years and continue to do this, and I wonder what they're made of that I'm missing, because I can't do it anymore. But I also became a nurse there, I started as a wee nurse technician, only two quarters into nursing school, scared of someone else's vomit and fumbling my way around a glucometer, and I grew up into an emesis-bucket holding IV-starting ICU nurse. And now I guess I just want to see what else is out there.
Last week I went out with J, a night nurse, and we apparently had a wonderful time. We had Vietnamese food, then continued on for coffee and cheesecake, then even walked in the park a bit. We stayed up until 1:00am, and the next day I was all happy and giddy and couldn't wait to see him again. Three days pass, and now I no longer want to see him again. We exchanged a few emails, the usual, "I had a great time, hope we can do it again." So that's not the problem. I have no idea what happened inside my head, except that the happy giddy feeling has been replaced and now I just feel weird about him, not entirely comfortable, and am remembering the not-so-good things rather than the "aww" things about the date. Nothing in particular was "not-so-good," so I'm having a really hard time explaining this. Except that now it's bothering me that he never asked the names of my dogs, and I think he was kind of pushy and cocky. Last night he called a couple of times, but didn't leave a message. In case I haven't mentioned this before, I'm really big on a few little things, like phone etiquette. Like, I obviously KNOW that you called (twice!) so a normal, polite thing to do would be to leave a simple message and I will call you back when I can. Do you think that if you call more than once, I will eventually be fooled into wondering what that funny beepy sound is, coming from this small piece of gray plastic, and press the start button?! Anyway, I'm confused by myself on this one. I just don't want to see him again. So there.
Last night little Ted was very ill, it was very heartbreaking. The vomiting and diarrhea are no fun of course, but it's even sadder to see him so lethargic and depressed. I ordered a pizza, and he slept in the other room the whole time I was eating! He was too sickies to even scratch his butt. This morning he seemed a bit peppier, although rather annoyed that all he got for breakfast was rice. I may go get him some boiled chicken (can I buy it pre-boiled? I don't want to touch it raw. And how does one boil chicken? Should I just cut it up, then throw it into boiling water?!) and cottage cheese for his dinner, maybe that will be more appetizing while remaining bland enough for his upset tummy. I also want to give him pedialyte for dehydration and metronidazole for a tummy bug and draw his electrolytes, but I must just be a doggy-mom first and a nurse second. Sigh.
In exciting news, this week I discovered these. Go look! NOW! And now I must look to my left in order to see myself, because I am absolutely BESIDE MYSELF in the cuteness that these things are. Can you even STAND it?! Can you IMAGINE the lambs?! ARGH! So I am well chuffed (and British, for a moment, apparently) that my dream farm, of miniature animals, will truly be complete. The pygmy goats, mini horses, and wee piggies will be pleased to have some wooly friends.
I have a job interview this week (shhhhh). I am super excited and nervous, not so much over the interview itself, but that if I get this new job, of the transition I will have to make. And it's a strange thing to reconcile in my mind, because I love my current job. I love the unit, and my co-workers, and my patients and their families. I love the work we do, the teaching and research environment, the support of the whole medical team, and the sunrises. But I don't love the medically futile things that we do, when I stop doing things FOR the patient and do things TO him, when people aren't afforded the dignity of dying peacefully and when they are ready. I don't love taking care of someone for weeks and weeks and always losing them in the end. I feel like a weenie because there are many wonderful nurses in our ICU who have been doing this for years and continue to do this, and I wonder what they're made of that I'm missing, because I can't do it anymore. But I also became a nurse there, I started as a wee nurse technician, only two quarters into nursing school, scared of someone else's vomit and fumbling my way around a glucometer, and I grew up into an emesis-bucket holding IV-starting ICU nurse. And now I guess I just want to see what else is out there.
Sunday, September 24, 2006
Dating updating!
Gosh, I've been neglectful...are you all gasping for details on my coffee date with R?! Probably not, but you get them anyway. No juicy details to impart, but I will say that I was pleasantly surprised (comment from J: "Why are you always so surprised when a date goes well? Are you expectations that low?!") Uhm, I guess they are. But seriously, considering my past history, I think I'm still entitled to be surprised when someone shows up in clean, unripped clothing and buys me a cup of coffee. Anyway, R was pretty cute, funny, and smart. And also had a sweet sensitive side, since he wants to be a writer and loves reading. Aww. We even made plans to try to get together soon for dinner, so he's either a good liar and says that to all his dates or he actually maybe liked me a little, at least enough to want to see me again.
Tonight I went out to sushi with C, who I almost didn't go out with because he works in sales and lives on the east side and tried to get me to come over there for dinner. BUT I held out, convinced him to come to this side of the water, and gave him a chance. It was a not-unpleasant evening, but nothing memorable.
Tomorrow may be dinner or drinks with J, who happens to be a night shift nurse. Maybe we'll stay up all night trading stories about mucous plugs or nectrotizing fasciitis. I can't wait!
Oh, when I got home from sushi with C, I went to go comb my hair and a live spider fell out of it. Heh. If C doesn't call again, I guess I know why!
Also, I'm contemplating changing hospitals and units. Not that I don't love my unit and my coworkers and patients, but my interest has been sparked in something else. And I feel like I need to move on before I completely burn out, at least emotionally. My SuperNurse facade may be fooling you (and me) but in reality each of these patients and family members who get to me, then leave me, take a little bit of me with them. I don't want to give away any more information about my future plans until they're more concrete, but I'm already re-reading chapters in my nursing texts and checking the mileage from my house to New Hospital, so maybe I'm really ready. Stay tuned...
Tonight I went out to sushi with C, who I almost didn't go out with because he works in sales and lives on the east side and tried to get me to come over there for dinner. BUT I held out, convinced him to come to this side of the water, and gave him a chance. It was a not-unpleasant evening, but nothing memorable.
Tomorrow may be dinner or drinks with J, who happens to be a night shift nurse. Maybe we'll stay up all night trading stories about mucous plugs or nectrotizing fasciitis. I can't wait!
Oh, when I got home from sushi with C, I went to go comb my hair and a live spider fell out of it. Heh. If C doesn't call again, I guess I know why!
Also, I'm contemplating changing hospitals and units. Not that I don't love my unit and my coworkers and patients, but my interest has been sparked in something else. And I feel like I need to move on before I completely burn out, at least emotionally. My SuperNurse facade may be fooling you (and me) but in reality each of these patients and family members who get to me, then leave me, take a little bit of me with them. I don't want to give away any more information about my future plans until they're more concrete, but I'm already re-reading chapters in my nursing texts and checking the mileage from my house to New Hospital, so maybe I'm really ready. Stay tuned...
Friday, September 22, 2006
Smitten
Who doesn't love Jon Stewart? Not this little girl! Only three months old, and already showing good taste. She's hoping that his sons are available when she turns 40, and is ready to start dating.
Death of a squirrel
This is the story of a hapless wee squirrel. A stuffed wee squirrel, bought for Ted while on vacation down AT the shore (the AT in that phrase carries a significance only you right coasters will understand), in an attempt to provide him with one more toy than the single stinky duck that he singularly loves. So, once Tessa fell asleep on the couch (I didn't actually have to wait very long for this to happen) I brought out the squirrel and presented it to Ted. Tessa just KNEW something was up, and the rest is history.
What do you have there? A new creature? A squeaky creature? I'll have that, thankyouverymuch. I must make sure it's dead.
Hey! She took my squ-- Hm, my butt itches.
I will soon rid the house of the squeaking creature! Resistance is futile.
Sigh. When are the snacks?
Don't worry. Ted may look quite pitiful in that last picture but I assure you that he got over the theft of his squirrel within three seconds and is much happier scratching his butt and looking for snacks than de-squeakifying small woodland creatures. He leaves that to Tessa. And yes, the fun never does end around here.
What do you have there? A new creature? A squeaky creature? I'll have that, thankyouverymuch. I must make sure it's dead.
Hey! She took my squ-- Hm, my butt itches. 
I will soon rid the house of the squeaking creature! Resistance is futile.
Sigh. When are the snacks?
Don't worry. Ted may look quite pitiful in that last picture but I assure you that he got over the theft of his squirrel within three seconds and is much happier scratching his butt and looking for snacks than de-squeakifying small woodland creatures. He leaves that to Tessa. And yes, the fun never does end around here.
Rest now, my friend
He was 55 years old, I'll call him Sam. He'd once said that he was afraid of dying because "there will be a lot of empty pages in my book." I'd taken care of him nearly all of my shifts for the past six weeks, throughout his stay in the ICU. For the first few weeks, he was intubated and sedated. His son and daughter told me that he was slightly hard of hearing, but would prefer to have the television on in the background. The Learning Channel or Discovery, if possible. So all night long, I kept the channel on one of those, switching only to avoid infomercials. In the quiet of the beeping pumps and whooshing ventilator, I would fill the silence by talking to him about what was on TV as I drew his blood, changed his dressings, gave him his bath. Together we learned about the black plague and Emperor Caligula. Some nights were rougher than others...but we got through cold sepsis and some other hypotensive crises and looked like maybe we'd made it through the weeds. Weeks passed and eventually he was extubated (breathing tube was removed). He was slow to wake up, but each day became a bit more interactive. He could indicate if he had pain or not, nod and smile, he even had the good grace to smirk at my bad jokes. My nurse friend, J, and I got him onto the cardiac chair and wheeled him around the unit as the sun rose, to say hello to everyone and check out the views. He smiled more, and preferred to sit in front of the window when possible. He couldn't speak very well yet, but I got pretty good at carrying on a conversation with him my interpreting his nods, smiles, shoulder shrugs, and eyebrow lifts. I remember the morning we watched the rain come down, and lamented that somehow, we'd missed the end of summer.
One night I came on shift to find that he'd been reintubated two days before, and was worsening overall. Liver failure, possible GI bleed, counts dropping, unknown infection. The next night, he had a little blue sticker next to his name card on the door: Do Not Rescusitate. I continued to administer his medications, check his blood sugars, draw his labs, record urine output, turn him side to side, keep his mouth and eyes clean. I watched as his blood pressure dropped lower and lower. I called his daughter, who came in at 4am to spend the night. I said goodbye at the end of my shift, knowing it was the last time I'd see him. But in my mind, the last time I really saw him was the morning we'd watched the rain come down, and lamented that we'd missed the end of summer.
Those pages in your book, Sam? They're not empty.
So I am sad now. The same small sadness that I don't feel quite entitled to, since I know his children and his family are truly grieving, and compared to them, I barely knew him. It doesn't get any easier, because now when I feel sad, it just adds on to the sadness that I had for Billy, and for W., and the guy with my dog's name, and and and...
One night I came on shift to find that he'd been reintubated two days before, and was worsening overall. Liver failure, possible GI bleed, counts dropping, unknown infection. The next night, he had a little blue sticker next to his name card on the door: Do Not Rescusitate. I continued to administer his medications, check his blood sugars, draw his labs, record urine output, turn him side to side, keep his mouth and eyes clean. I watched as his blood pressure dropped lower and lower. I called his daughter, who came in at 4am to spend the night. I said goodbye at the end of my shift, knowing it was the last time I'd see him. But in my mind, the last time I really saw him was the morning we'd watched the rain come down, and lamented that we'd missed the end of summer.
Those pages in your book, Sam? They're not empty.
So I am sad now. The same small sadness that I don't feel quite entitled to, since I know his children and his family are truly grieving, and compared to them, I barely knew him. It doesn't get any easier, because now when I feel sad, it just adds on to the sadness that I had for Billy, and for W., and the guy with my dog's name, and and and...
Saturday, September 16, 2006
It was inevitable...
There they are, the Wiener Twins. It was about time, really. I've had at least one dachshund for over ten years now, and the hot dog costumes were bound to happen eventually. And they are worth it. There you have it.
Update on Love and Other Catastrophes: Mr.Lovesmelovesmenot finally fades completely into the background, after a performance of asshole proportions, impressive even by his own previously-set asshole standards. I think I still hear the fire trucks, something about some bridges burning. Ah well. So, my tears are wiped, the drinks are drunk, and I'm moving on. I'm jumping right back onto that dating train, if only for a bit of distraction and a reminder that maybe there are decent guys out there, ones who will pay for dinner, tell you that you look nice, and call when they say they will. I am meeting Bachelor # 1, R*, tomorrow for coffee. He told me a funny story about something he heard on NPR in an email, so I guess I'm a sucker for NPR-quoting microserfs. Stay tuned!
I have no good stories involving blood, mucous, or toenails, as I haven't worked in nearly ten days. Ahhhhhhhhhhh.
Here are some of my favorite things: Malbec, Dreyer's fat-free vanilla frozen yogurt, and sour gummi worms. Not all together, silly. That would be gross. Now, if you'll excuse me, I have big plans to cuddle with my little doggies, sip my wine, and watch Nip/Tuck.
Saturday, September 09, 2006
Big walkies!
Today was the big 5K PAWS walk at Magnuson Park. Despite the typical Seattle September weather, we were there, along with over 1000 other Seattle doggies.
We signed in, then got the doggies properly attired in their stylish PAWS bandanas. Unfortunately they did not have Weenie Size and Tessa occasionally got her paw stuck in hers, and Ted's dragged through a few puddles. 
While we were waiting for the walk to start, Ted wandered off and we had to convince him that he was not part of Team Terrier.
Then, we were off! Following the signs...
And five kilometers and two very wet bellies later, we were done, to much applause. Which the Wonder Weenies took in stride of course, because really, why shouldn't there be much applause for them all the time?
Friday, September 08, 2006
You know you're a dog person when...
This week in the ICU... two other nurses and I were just finishing bathing a patient, and stuffing pillows into pillow cases. K comments, "It was time that toenail came off anyway. I mean, did you see the tissue around it? It's necrotic. That nail was..." she glances at the sedated pt, then back at us, "that nail was D-E-A-D."
Me: "You're right, the nailbed isn't even bleeding. It's a good thing we removed it -- " then J cuts me off, "What?! Just because she's sedated and intubated she can't spell?" and suddenly K and I realize what she had just done, and bust up laughing.
Also, on a related note, we've discovered what really makes seasoned ICU nurses squirm. Nurses who have suctioned rivers of poo, poked and prodded open, oozing wounds, had skin blisters pop all over them, dealt with tenacious mucous plugs...show them a toenail which has fallen off, and they get a little weak at the knees. A whole toenail.
Well, tomorrow is the big PAWS walk! The dogs are currently resting up, after carbo-loaded and stretching. Okay, so they'd be 'resting up' anyway, but you get the picture.
Me: "You're right, the nailbed isn't even bleeding. It's a good thing we removed it -- " then J cuts me off, "What?! Just because she's sedated and intubated she can't spell?" and suddenly K and I realize what she had just done, and bust up laughing.
Also, on a related note, we've discovered what really makes seasoned ICU nurses squirm. Nurses who have suctioned rivers of poo, poked and prodded open, oozing wounds, had skin blisters pop all over them, dealt with tenacious mucous plugs...show them a toenail which has fallen off, and they get a little weak at the knees. A whole toenail.
Well, tomorrow is the big PAWS walk! The dogs are currently resting up, after carbo-loaded and stretching. Okay, so they'd be 'resting up' anyway, but you get the picture.
Wednesday, September 06, 2006
Walking for Wildlife!
Me and my chubby couch potatoes are going to get off our butts on Saturday and do the PAWS Walk! It will be a challenge...for me, because I have to be awake around 8:00am, and for them, because, well, they're looking a little sausage-like lately. BUT it's only 5K, and I'm fairly confident we can all do it. Will try to get some cute pics but in the mass doggy confusion it might be hard! Anyway, if you're at all inclined, head over to my webpage to learn more about it, and what PAWS does in our community. And of course donations are greatly appreciated, you will get wet doggy kisses via email :)
In other news, I'm leaving town next week! Well, only for one night. But sometimes, that's all you need. Me and the my fearless travelling companions, the Wonder Weenies, and S, are all heading south to the ocean. We will learn about fruit that grows in bogs, eat pizza, run (two-legged creatures will be walking) on the beach, take lotsa photos, and enjoy our peaceful cabin in the woods. Ah. It will be lovely.
And now, your Ted for Today:
In other news, I'm leaving town next week! Well, only for one night. But sometimes, that's all you need. Me and the my fearless travelling companions, the Wonder Weenies, and S, are all heading south to the ocean. We will learn about fruit that grows in bogs, eat pizza, run (two-legged creatures will be walking) on the beach, take lotsa photos, and enjoy our peaceful cabin in the woods. Ah. It will be lovely.
And now, your Ted for Today:
Monday, September 04, 2006
Today's Ted
Too-close shot of little Ted's head, just because. I think everyone needs a daily dose of Ted, so here is yours.And now I am going to make a little pizza with little mozzerrella balls, because it's a little kind of day. I'm also going to clean the bathroom later. Maybe a little.
Sunday, September 03, 2006
Hello? Reality calling. Please pick up line 6.
I am a terrible terrible person but I spend much of time of at work feeling quite frustrated by family members of my patients. Okay, that's an exagerration, it's not that much time. But proportionately, the amount of frustration I feel towards them is much more than I should (like never) since their loved ones are super sick, dying, in pain, all of the above.
So last night my fellow RN/friend fielded an early-morning phone call from a family member, and from listening to her end of the twenty-minute phone call, and watching the expressions on her face, I knew it was the exact type of phone call we've both taken many many times before. A concerned family member/friend calls, in our night-shifty case, early in the morning, and wants to be updated on their friend's condition. And here is where the Great Divide in understanding and information begins, from health care provider to family member.
ConcernedFamilyMember ["Connie"]: So, how is my sister? ["Susie"]? Any changes over night?
Nurse: (after verifying through several means and fingerprints and a hair sample that this person is who she says is and can be privy to Susie's super-secret-private health care information). She's doing okay, there were no major changes to her condition over night.
Connie: Oh good, so she's doing better then?
Nurse: Well, she's staying about the same. But she didn't make any changes for the worse, so that's a good thing.
Connie: Well that's good! Is she awake?
Nurse: Not exactly. She's on a lot of sedation and pain medication right now.
Connie: Oh. But shouldn't we wake her up? Is it bad that she's so sedated?
Nurse: No, it's actually a good thing. If her sedation levels are decreased, she tries to pull out her breathing tube and she grimaces like she's in pain, so we're trying to keep her very comfortable.
Connie: Well, if she's more awake, maybe she'll breath better on her own? And come out of the ICU sooner?
Here's where Nurse quietly takes a deep breath, closes her eyes, and starts to continue this conversation privately in her head, not saying what she actually wants to...
Nurse: No, she's not ready to breathe on her own yet, we do breathing trials everyday to determine that. But thanks for your opinion, even though you are not a medical professional, we really need people like you to do our jobs because otherwise we never would have considering your very educated point. Where do you work? Can I come and watch you, and tell you how I think you should do your job? I bet I don't need any special training either.
Connie: So how much longer then? A few days? A week?
Nurse: There's no way to say that at this point, as she's still dependent on dialysis since her kidneys aren't working yet, and she's on several heart and blood pressure medications...
Connie: Are those medications something she'll be able to take when she goes home?
Nurse: No, those medications are currently only in IV form, and they have to be running continuously... Or she'll die. Do you get that? She's super sick and has a high chance of dying. She's on life support and the ventilator and drips are the only things keeping her alive, minute to minute. If we could give her a pill and let her go home, believe me, we would have done it.
Connie: Because my Uncle Harry...he was on dialysis, but he got to go just a few times a week, and he was fine. And he was on this medication that made him make more urine. Have the doctors tried that? Since Susie's not peeing?
Nurse: Every case is very different. The doctors are doing everything they can to support Susie until her system starts to be able to recover on it's own. And again, thanks for your expert opinion. I'll pass it on to the docs, since they're really not actually doing anything, and your idea is probably the best they've heard all day.
Connie: Okay. Also, I noticed her toenails are looking kind of yellow, when I was there yesterday. She usually puts some cream on them for fungus or something. Does she still have that? Because she needs that twice a day.
Nurse: I'll will look into that, and make sure that's being addressed. Because that's super important. Because you know what else? Her kidneys shut down and her heart isn't sending enough blood to her toes and her medications are making them turn black and her lungs are filling with fluid and blood and she has clots throughout her liver that makes the rest of her skin look yellow and I need to change the dressings over her blistering skin and make sure her cardiac drip doesn't run out and suction her so she gets oxygen but dammit, her toes better not have fungus! I guess I am a lazy nurse because I didn't even put her toe cream on.
Connie: Yeah, because she needs that twice a day. I can bring some in if you don't have any there. And is her purple quilt in her room? Because that looks really pretty on her.
Nurse: Don't worry about it, we can get some here. And yes, the quilt is there. But it's on the chair, not on her. If it were on her it might get covered in liquid green stool, mucus, or blood. Probably all three. And also, you should be worrying about Susie's life, not Susie's toes. You should be hugging her children and thinking about how she lived her life, and how she'd want her life to end. You should be just sitting near her, if you can, and telling her how special she is, and playing her favorite music, or taking her dogs to the park and scratching them behind the ears, and not going to the pharmacy for her toe cream. Because Susie is very near death and this is going to be a terrible way for Susie to die. Do you get that?
Connie: Well, thanks for filling me in. I'll be in later in the afternoon. If you get a chance, let Susie know that I called. And that...we love her.
Then her voice cracks, and my eyes fill up, and I sigh and head into Susie's room to adjust her blood pressure drip and look for the toe cream.
So last night my fellow RN/friend fielded an early-morning phone call from a family member, and from listening to her end of the twenty-minute phone call, and watching the expressions on her face, I knew it was the exact type of phone call we've both taken many many times before. A concerned family member/friend calls, in our night-shifty case, early in the morning, and wants to be updated on their friend's condition. And here is where the Great Divide in understanding and information begins, from health care provider to family member.
ConcernedFamilyMember ["Connie"]: So, how is my sister? ["Susie"]? Any changes over night?
Nurse: (after verifying through several means and fingerprints and a hair sample that this person is who she says is and can be privy to Susie's super-secret-private health care information). She's doing okay, there were no major changes to her condition over night.
Connie: Oh good, so she's doing better then?
Nurse: Well, she's staying about the same. But she didn't make any changes for the worse, so that's a good thing.
Connie: Well that's good! Is she awake?
Nurse: Not exactly. She's on a lot of sedation and pain medication right now.
Connie: Oh. But shouldn't we wake her up? Is it bad that she's so sedated?
Nurse: No, it's actually a good thing. If her sedation levels are decreased, she tries to pull out her breathing tube and she grimaces like she's in pain, so we're trying to keep her very comfortable.
Connie: Well, if she's more awake, maybe she'll breath better on her own? And come out of the ICU sooner?
Here's where Nurse quietly takes a deep breath, closes her eyes, and starts to continue this conversation privately in her head, not saying what she actually wants to...
Nurse: No, she's not ready to breathe on her own yet, we do breathing trials everyday to determine that. But thanks for your opinion, even though you are not a medical professional, we really need people like you to do our jobs because otherwise we never would have considering your very educated point. Where do you work? Can I come and watch you, and tell you how I think you should do your job? I bet I don't need any special training either.
Connie: So how much longer then? A few days? A week?
Nurse: There's no way to say that at this point, as she's still dependent on dialysis since her kidneys aren't working yet, and she's on several heart and blood pressure medications...
Connie: Are those medications something she'll be able to take when she goes home?
Nurse: No, those medications are currently only in IV form, and they have to be running continuously... Or she'll die. Do you get that? She's super sick and has a high chance of dying. She's on life support and the ventilator and drips are the only things keeping her alive, minute to minute. If we could give her a pill and let her go home, believe me, we would have done it.
Connie: Because my Uncle Harry...he was on dialysis, but he got to go just a few times a week, and he was fine. And he was on this medication that made him make more urine. Have the doctors tried that? Since Susie's not peeing?
Nurse: Every case is very different. The doctors are doing everything they can to support Susie until her system starts to be able to recover on it's own. And again, thanks for your expert opinion. I'll pass it on to the docs, since they're really not actually doing anything, and your idea is probably the best they've heard all day.
Connie: Okay. Also, I noticed her toenails are looking kind of yellow, when I was there yesterday. She usually puts some cream on them for fungus or something. Does she still have that? Because she needs that twice a day.
Nurse: I'll will look into that, and make sure that's being addressed. Because that's super important. Because you know what else? Her kidneys shut down and her heart isn't sending enough blood to her toes and her medications are making them turn black and her lungs are filling with fluid and blood and she has clots throughout her liver that makes the rest of her skin look yellow and I need to change the dressings over her blistering skin and make sure her cardiac drip doesn't run out and suction her so she gets oxygen but dammit, her toes better not have fungus! I guess I am a lazy nurse because I didn't even put her toe cream on.
Connie: Yeah, because she needs that twice a day. I can bring some in if you don't have any there. And is her purple quilt in her room? Because that looks really pretty on her.
Nurse: Don't worry about it, we can get some here. And yes, the quilt is there. But it's on the chair, not on her. If it were on her it might get covered in liquid green stool, mucus, or blood. Probably all three. And also, you should be worrying about Susie's life, not Susie's toes. You should be hugging her children and thinking about how she lived her life, and how she'd want her life to end. You should be just sitting near her, if you can, and telling her how special she is, and playing her favorite music, or taking her dogs to the park and scratching them behind the ears, and not going to the pharmacy for her toe cream. Because Susie is very near death and this is going to be a terrible way for Susie to die. Do you get that?
Connie: Well, thanks for filling me in. I'll be in later in the afternoon. If you get a chance, let Susie know that I called. And that...we love her.
Then her voice cracks, and my eyes fill up, and I sigh and head into Susie's room to adjust her blood pressure drip and look for the toe cream.
Tuesday, August 29, 2006
Fire in the sky
This morning I woke up and my bedroom door was slightly ajar, and there was a strange light coming from the living room. I lay there, completely confused, wondering what possible light I could have left on overnight, and I was sure I'd remembered to turn them all off. After a few moments, and after I glanced at the clock, I realized it was just sunlight. I've heard that happens in the mornings, actually much of the day in fact. Hm.
I was quite pleased to see this article in the New York Times. As Tessa is always saying, it's about time more people realized they are associated with greatness.
Now I must suck down my coffee to fortify myself and perfect my Mean Voice in order to call my payroll supervisor. She f*cked up my last paycheck, and no one messes with Nurse Ratched's paycheck. No one.
In the meantime, I leave you with this thought of the day:
I was quite pleased to see this article in the New York Times. As Tessa is always saying, it's about time more people realized they are associated with greatness.
Now I must suck down my coffee to fortify myself and perfect my Mean Voice in order to call my payroll supervisor. She f*cked up my last paycheck, and no one messes with Nurse Ratched's paycheck. No one.
In the meantime, I leave you with this thought of the day:
Sunday, August 27, 2006
Belated
It was your birthday last week, so I just wanted to say welcome to your new decade, it's going to be wonderful. I have my camera with me nearly constantly but I'm kicking myself that this is the only photo I took of you on the actual day. I think that's okay though, since this is how I know you...walking along a path, with you at my side, calling for small dogs and laughing at their exploring. They were probably just at our feet in this shot. So anyway, happy birthday again, and here's to several dozen more years.
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