How much troube could one little test be, after all, many of my patients have had this procedure. I would walk into their room with a jug bigger than a propane tank and tell them to drink one glass every 10 minutes and if they didn't they would be up all night sitting on the toilet. I reminded them that if they weren't cleaned out, they would have to drink it over again, along with enemas, offering my best nurse indifference.
I worked on a GI floor and I give the same speech quite often. I knew that old people would poo up the curtains and that young people would mess the bed. Often times, they would vomit and couldn't even finish the prep, which of couse meant a call to the doctor and a zillion enemas. Makes you kind of wonder how they function at home with the prep?
All nurses and doctors should have this procedure done, not just for the sake of diagnostics, but to see how much fun the prep is and to see if they can survive the prep to actually have the test done. So as bad luck would have it, it was my turn for a colonscopy.
It took me a month to choose the right doctor, after all, I worked with these men every day and some things should not be shown, if you know what I mean. Originally, I thought I might wear sunglasses, but later changed my mind.
Of course everyone has a story about their colonoscopy and I feared that I would be screaming on the table. I wasn't the least bit concerned about the prep and didn't even read the instructions until the day before the test. How difficult would it be to take 32 tablets and stay on clear liquids?
So the day of the test, I started my clear liquids and went shopping with my mother. By noon, in Walmart, I was fantasizing about a Big Mac and fries and got a good case of the body shakes. I realized that I had to go home and drink some liquids.
Unfortunately, all our liquids were diet, caffeine free, or Gatorade, which I hate. Gatorade is like drinking Pedialyte that babies get for diarrhea. How awful! Then I decided to read the instruction paper and realized that I had no jello or popsicles. I hadn't seen the need for them. But boy was I hungry and on any other day, I would have skipped two meals and never missed them. You know how powerful the mind is, my body knew that it couldn't have it and it wanted it. It was torture.
Then came 5pm and for the next 15 minute intervals, I had to swallow 4 gigantic pills with water. So I decided to kill some time downstairs wrapping gifts, the ones I bought in January this year. (It was November now). I didn't even know whose pile was whose since it had been so long since I bought them and all 3 men wear the same size.
Anyway, by 6pm, my stomach was swelling to beach ball size and I had to lower my pants to my pubis, but no poo. I had been smart and took 2 Senekot the night before just to get a head start, so I knew this would be a breeze.
Then it started, waves of urgent cramps with unexpected timing while I was a mile from the bathroom. I was afraid to run upstairs and the gas odor was making me nauseated. Eventually I knew better than to let the gas go, because it was accompanied by piles of sludge and I thought maybe a diaper would be nice.
Finally the trips upstairs were so many, I finally sat on the toilet and waited for the next wave. Then the real agony, my butt hole started to burn like someone shot a hot iron up it and the hemorrhoids were just about flying out of the gate. I had to keep Vaseline handy, just to put them back in.
Reluctantly, I gave up on the wrapping and went upstairs to get rid of more havoc from those pills. By 9:45 pm I was settling down, but then I had to start phase 2 which consisted of 12 more pills. Whoever heard of prepping a bowel at bedtime? But I took them and got ready for bed, thinking what harm could they do, there couldn't be much left.
How wrong was that! By 11:00 pm, I didn't know if I was peeing or pooing, it was just running out. I was afraid to go to bed and I could hear my bowel gurgling like a toilet flushing. It was going to be a long night and I knew it.
By midnight, I was too tired to care, so I took an old towel to pad my bed and put a wash cloth in my drawers and went to sleep. At 2 am, I woke from a dream where I was taking Mom Evans to use the bathroom. It was not a good sign. Then I felt the cramps and sneaked out of the bedroom to sit on the toilet while one of my orifices got rid of something. I called it water gas. I went back to bed and the same thing happened again. The Vaseline had little effect on my sore butt hole.
It was at this time that I refused to let anything escape from that hole. The pain was just too sharp and there was blood on the tissue. Enough was enough.
So I survived the prep.
The actual procedure was a breeze. When I walked into the procedure room, the smiling, relaxed nurse asked me if I wanted to go to the bathroom one more time. I declined her kind offer by saying, "Nothing is coming out of that hole while I am conscious!" She found that humorous. There was an anesthesiologist there, who gave me sedation, to help me relax. I was worried that this was all I would get. Then he returned and put a mask over my face and I sailed away.
I remembered thinking how great it would be to take a nice long nap, then the voices in the room started to fade away. After awhile, the voices returned. I was getting nervous and asked the nice nurse how much longer I had to wait. He smiled and said, "It's all over!" Now how in the name of Heaven did I miss the whole procedure? As I lay there waiting for the doctor, I expelled loads of lovely empty gas. I wondered if they had lied to me.
The doctor came in and gave me a good report.
So I am not dying from cancer as I was worried about, it was all stress. He asked me about the stress and the paper I had to fill out was enough to make them put me in Sheppard Pratt, if I had put down the truth.
One shouldn't have to share everything, you know?
Saturday, October 31, 2009
Thursday, October 29, 2009
The Mystery of Intimate Apparel
I admit to you that I just don't get it. I went shopping for underwear last week. Isn't it odd that all your old underwear gets holes and loses elasticity at the same time? Let me tell you about my intimate apparel shopping expedition that surely took as long as shopping for a diamond ring. You might be interested to know that this was my third time to shop at Kohls for just 3 inches of material.
As you know, the intimate apparel can not be tried on, thus creating a bad situation which causes us to bring home alot of drawers that just don't fit. Some of them don't even cover your butt. Others don't have a back part, just a string so our whole butt is hanging out and they are very popular even though they cause a constant wedgey. To some women, this must be sensual, but to me, it is just a feeling that my drawers are stuck in my butt.
Last week after an hour of looking, I finally selected 3 pair that were not in a package. At least I could guess if they were my size, but there was no guarantee of that. So I brought them home. All 3 pair were the same size I have worn for years, but with empty spaces of material on each hip for fat, I guess and neither of them covered my butt. I am pretty sure that my weight has not changed in 30 years, but the sizes of butts and hips, well let's just say that they must have changed proportions over time.
Why can't they just put a removable plastic cover in the crotch and just let the consumer try them on, like a swimsuit or a bra? No one buys a bra unless you try it on first. A bra has to feel just right and you need to be able to put it on or off without your husband's assistance. ( I think you know what havoc that would create!)
I also noticed something new, women wear boxers. I have no idea how they keep a sanitary pad in place or what would happen if a tampon flew out. Maybe boxers are just for special times.
Anyway, I got a pair of boxers and boy, talking about comfort. Things get a good airing out in those drawers. Talking about the feeling of wearing nothing. I highly recommend them. I even think that the same pair could be worn a day or two and still smell great. There are no wedgies or jamming of material in the wrong places at any time.
Yet, whoever produced men's intimate apparel knew exactly what he was doing. First of all, real men do not wear intimate apparel, they wear briefs. They could be called drawers since drawers are places that contain all sorts of things and their drawers cover up all their things. The sizes come in 32-34, 36-38 and so on. The poor fellow that wears a 35 is out of luck. But somehow, the manufacturers knew this, so they made a pouch in all men's underwear that can stretch large enough to hold a large, baby kangaroo, or small enough to conceal a teeny, finger of a baby kangaroo. Sort of: one size fits all. They come in packages of 3 and there is never a need to return them. They cover not only men's butts, but the "dogs" that live in the house.
They even have a little window to let the "dogs" out if need be. Wouldn't it be nice if women's intimate apparel had a little convenient window like that? Maybe one that could be unsnapped and used only if necessary. Maybe for the airing out days, you could unsnap the window, leaving it open and not soiling your underwear. I know that women's boxers last longer than any other intimate apparel. I don't know why women's boxers are called intimate apparel, unless it got its name by allowing you to be intimate with the boxers on !!!
So why bother to wear underwear at all? No one knows if you are wearing them or not. All those beautiful prints, poke a dots, lace, see through, denim and cotton are just articles of more laundry to do.
Of course if you choose to wear underwear, you have to have a bra to match. It is in down right poor taste to wear a red bra with neon pink panties with purple lace. Who dresses with such clashing colors? What if you had a car accident??? HUH?? Your mother knew what she was talking about when she warned you years ago.
Need I go into the pantyhose story? Yes, I think I will. On the back of the sealed package is a chart with shaded areas as a guideline to help you find the right size. The shadow area covers alot of territory, for instance, someone 5'8" tall, weighing 200lbs would qualify for a B, or so you would think. A woman 5' 2", weighing 250 lbs falls into the same class. Someone is going to have comfort issues if they depend on those quidelines.
You stand there awhile and debate on height versus weight and settle for B. When you bring B home, you find that the pantyhose barely goes over your knees. You are then indeed stuck with your purchase, trying not to mind that the panty hose will never go over your hips or butt, but will leave a red mark on your thighs. You dare not try to yank them up. So you pull them off and try again. Sometimes, it takes 2-3 times before you can adjust the pantyhose so you can walk. Who invented this chart, I wonder? It couldn't have been a woman, but whoever it was had no idea that panty hose would stretch only so far, then unravel right before you very eyes.
I am thinking that the pantyhose designer is the same one that dreamed up those women's dress shoes with the pointed toe. Any fool that knows her feet, knows that her toes are going to fold on top of each other, causing her intense pain when she walks. Thank God for sneakers.
Sneakers were invented by a woman. I wear mine all the time, even to church. They are non-skid thus making them less life-threatening.
I will close with a comment on women's gloves. I presume they were made in Japan, where the women are 4 ft tall with one inch fingers. These same gloves in the USA cover our fingers, but they stop right in the middle of your hand. They are worse than panty hose, at least no one sees your pantyhose crawling down your thighs.
So what does a woman do if she has long fingers? Maybe with the threat of a global warming, she won't have to worry about it. HUH??
As you know, the intimate apparel can not be tried on, thus creating a bad situation which causes us to bring home alot of drawers that just don't fit. Some of them don't even cover your butt. Others don't have a back part, just a string so our whole butt is hanging out and they are very popular even though they cause a constant wedgey. To some women, this must be sensual, but to me, it is just a feeling that my drawers are stuck in my butt.
Last week after an hour of looking, I finally selected 3 pair that were not in a package. At least I could guess if they were my size, but there was no guarantee of that. So I brought them home. All 3 pair were the same size I have worn for years, but with empty spaces of material on each hip for fat, I guess and neither of them covered my butt. I am pretty sure that my weight has not changed in 30 years, but the sizes of butts and hips, well let's just say that they must have changed proportions over time.
Why can't they just put a removable plastic cover in the crotch and just let the consumer try them on, like a swimsuit or a bra? No one buys a bra unless you try it on first. A bra has to feel just right and you need to be able to put it on or off without your husband's assistance. ( I think you know what havoc that would create!)
I also noticed something new, women wear boxers. I have no idea how they keep a sanitary pad in place or what would happen if a tampon flew out. Maybe boxers are just for special times.
Anyway, I got a pair of boxers and boy, talking about comfort. Things get a good airing out in those drawers. Talking about the feeling of wearing nothing. I highly recommend them. I even think that the same pair could be worn a day or two and still smell great. There are no wedgies or jamming of material in the wrong places at any time.
Yet, whoever produced men's intimate apparel knew exactly what he was doing. First of all, real men do not wear intimate apparel, they wear briefs. They could be called drawers since drawers are places that contain all sorts of things and their drawers cover up all their things. The sizes come in 32-34, 36-38 and so on. The poor fellow that wears a 35 is out of luck. But somehow, the manufacturers knew this, so they made a pouch in all men's underwear that can stretch large enough to hold a large, baby kangaroo, or small enough to conceal a teeny, finger of a baby kangaroo. Sort of: one size fits all. They come in packages of 3 and there is never a need to return them. They cover not only men's butts, but the "dogs" that live in the house.
They even have a little window to let the "dogs" out if need be. Wouldn't it be nice if women's intimate apparel had a little convenient window like that? Maybe one that could be unsnapped and used only if necessary. Maybe for the airing out days, you could unsnap the window, leaving it open and not soiling your underwear. I know that women's boxers last longer than any other intimate apparel. I don't know why women's boxers are called intimate apparel, unless it got its name by allowing you to be intimate with the boxers on !!!
So why bother to wear underwear at all? No one knows if you are wearing them or not. All those beautiful prints, poke a dots, lace, see through, denim and cotton are just articles of more laundry to do.
Of course if you choose to wear underwear, you have to have a bra to match. It is in down right poor taste to wear a red bra with neon pink panties with purple lace. Who dresses with such clashing colors? What if you had a car accident??? HUH?? Your mother knew what she was talking about when she warned you years ago.
Need I go into the pantyhose story? Yes, I think I will. On the back of the sealed package is a chart with shaded areas as a guideline to help you find the right size. The shadow area covers alot of territory, for instance, someone 5'8" tall, weighing 200lbs would qualify for a B, or so you would think. A woman 5' 2", weighing 250 lbs falls into the same class. Someone is going to have comfort issues if they depend on those quidelines.
You stand there awhile and debate on height versus weight and settle for B. When you bring B home, you find that the pantyhose barely goes over your knees. You are then indeed stuck with your purchase, trying not to mind that the panty hose will never go over your hips or butt, but will leave a red mark on your thighs. You dare not try to yank them up. So you pull them off and try again. Sometimes, it takes 2-3 times before you can adjust the pantyhose so you can walk. Who invented this chart, I wonder? It couldn't have been a woman, but whoever it was had no idea that panty hose would stretch only so far, then unravel right before you very eyes.
I am thinking that the pantyhose designer is the same one that dreamed up those women's dress shoes with the pointed toe. Any fool that knows her feet, knows that her toes are going to fold on top of each other, causing her intense pain when she walks. Thank God for sneakers.
Sneakers were invented by a woman. I wear mine all the time, even to church. They are non-skid thus making them less life-threatening.
I will close with a comment on women's gloves. I presume they were made in Japan, where the women are 4 ft tall with one inch fingers. These same gloves in the USA cover our fingers, but they stop right in the middle of your hand. They are worse than panty hose, at least no one sees your pantyhose crawling down your thighs.
So what does a woman do if she has long fingers? Maybe with the threat of a global warming, she won't have to worry about it. HUH??
Friday, October 23, 2009
Rub a Dub Dub
This is not my usual make fun of people type of article, but is, in fact, a topic of a serious nature. And I have felt the need to write it, just to get some feed-back, hopefully positive, because I have some big issues to address.
First, let me just say this- I have been going to church since I was in the womb, approximately 59 years, give or take a few months. Keeping this in mind, you might think that I have seen everything imaginable in church. But lately, I have had seen some new church activity that I need to talk over with someone. So if you are reading this, you are that someone !! Thanks !!
I know these things must be new, because when I was growing up in church, I never saw such things. Maybe I was too young to notice, or maybe now, I am too easily distracted.
Church goers seem to be an affectionate bunch, young and old alike. So much, that I have been drawn into their private time, causing me to lose focus on the sermon.
Sometime last year, I got my first dose of distraction. I was sitting in the back with my husband and 2 boys. At our far left was a very, loving, couple. She stood facing the front of the church, swaying with what I thought was the music and her partner was standing facing her with one of his thighs on the front part of her leg and his other thigh on the back part of her leg. You can only imagine what part of him was hitting her hip bone. He had his right hand in her back pocket as he too swayed with the music. So when he sang, even though I doubted he was singing, he was facing her ear. Sounds romantic, don't you think?
Well all four of us noticed the couple. We tried not to look, but it was right there waiting for us to see them and react. I tried not to look at my boys, but all four of us had our heads turned to our left. Then the man noticed we were giggling and that only seemed to turn him on more. His right hand left her pocket and he went into a rhythmic rub all over her bra line, as if he was looking for a discreet way to unlatch her bra, so her beautiful boobs could sway with the music in the tight sweater she was wearing.
A few weeks ago, we spotted another loving couple. This time, the woman was the rubber and the man was the rubee. He was trying to listen to the sermon and she was totally focused on the back of his neck. She rubbed one side and then the other, then she moved from shoulder to shoulder, all horizontal. Then she switched to vertical movements and ended up with a little caress of his ear lobe. He pretended not to notice the affection, but we saw it. They were directly in front of us and even as I looked up at the over-head projections, I could still see the rubbing action. Finally, I just gave in and focused on the real deal, and that was most certainly, the rub-a-dub people.
During the distraction time, I scanned the room and it felt like the days when I was a teenager in the movie theatre. Guys had their arms around their girls. There was whispering and caressing and why not, it was dark and no one ever knew who you were, not that I ever did such things.
But am I the only one that thinks that church is more sacred than the theatre? Maybe we should just turn off the lights and just let them climb all over each other and get it over with. At least, I wouldn't be distracted by them afterwards and could actually focus on the real reason that I came to church.
I think that these couples have put a hurting on the soft, porno industry, not that I ever saw a porno flic and besides, I can just see what I need to see in Sunday morning worship.
Next, the whisperers. My, what do they think of to say in church. They get really close and I doubt if they are discussing the sermon, which is outlined on the over-head. So I have concluded that they are talking about something totally unrelated to church. And whatever it is, the one receiving the whispering words finds something to smile about. Then there is eye contact and more smiling. If prayer in church lasted longer, they could probably just get "it" done right there on the pew.
First, let me just say this- I have been going to church since I was in the womb, approximately 59 years, give or take a few months. Keeping this in mind, you might think that I have seen everything imaginable in church. But lately, I have had seen some new church activity that I need to talk over with someone. So if you are reading this, you are that someone !! Thanks !!
I know these things must be new, because when I was growing up in church, I never saw such things. Maybe I was too young to notice, or maybe now, I am too easily distracted.
Church goers seem to be an affectionate bunch, young and old alike. So much, that I have been drawn into their private time, causing me to lose focus on the sermon.
Sometime last year, I got my first dose of distraction. I was sitting in the back with my husband and 2 boys. At our far left was a very, loving, couple. She stood facing the front of the church, swaying with what I thought was the music and her partner was standing facing her with one of his thighs on the front part of her leg and his other thigh on the back part of her leg. You can only imagine what part of him was hitting her hip bone. He had his right hand in her back pocket as he too swayed with the music. So when he sang, even though I doubted he was singing, he was facing her ear. Sounds romantic, don't you think?
Well all four of us noticed the couple. We tried not to look, but it was right there waiting for us to see them and react. I tried not to look at my boys, but all four of us had our heads turned to our left. Then the man noticed we were giggling and that only seemed to turn him on more. His right hand left her pocket and he went into a rhythmic rub all over her bra line, as if he was looking for a discreet way to unlatch her bra, so her beautiful boobs could sway with the music in the tight sweater she was wearing.
A few weeks ago, we spotted another loving couple. This time, the woman was the rubber and the man was the rubee. He was trying to listen to the sermon and she was totally focused on the back of his neck. She rubbed one side and then the other, then she moved from shoulder to shoulder, all horizontal. Then she switched to vertical movements and ended up with a little caress of his ear lobe. He pretended not to notice the affection, but we saw it. They were directly in front of us and even as I looked up at the over-head projections, I could still see the rubbing action. Finally, I just gave in and focused on the real deal, and that was most certainly, the rub-a-dub people.
During the distraction time, I scanned the room and it felt like the days when I was a teenager in the movie theatre. Guys had their arms around their girls. There was whispering and caressing and why not, it was dark and no one ever knew who you were, not that I ever did such things.
But am I the only one that thinks that church is more sacred than the theatre? Maybe we should just turn off the lights and just let them climb all over each other and get it over with. At least, I wouldn't be distracted by them afterwards and could actually focus on the real reason that I came to church.
I think that these couples have put a hurting on the soft, porno industry, not that I ever saw a porno flic and besides, I can just see what I need to see in Sunday morning worship.
Next, the whisperers. My, what do they think of to say in church. They get really close and I doubt if they are discussing the sermon, which is outlined on the over-head. So I have concluded that they are talking about something totally unrelated to church. And whatever it is, the one receiving the whispering words finds something to smile about. Then there is eye contact and more smiling. If prayer in church lasted longer, they could probably just get "it" done right there on the pew.
Tuesday, October 20, 2009
Growing Old Together
I was looking in the drawer of our hutch last week, looking for my hearing aide that still remains at large, and I found a wedding album. I started looking at it and exclaimed, what a handsome couple!!
The groom looked as if he didn't have a care in the world. He had a crop of dark, brown hair and 2 of the cutest dimples I have ever seen. The bride was smiling and was free of wrinkles and had 2 shiny dark eyes, void of cirlces or worry lines. If I hadn't have found them in my own house, I would not have guessed who they were, but it was us in 1981.
Here we sit tonight with my $1 bifocals and my husband is stretched out asleep in the recliner. I glanced over at him, the crop of brown hair has been replaced by gray stubble, his chest hairs are gray and sticking out of his shirt. I can't remember when I last saw the dimples. His mouth is open and he is making some crazy snoring sounds while his legs are jumping. His shirt is exposing his love handles that used to be abds. Yep there are changes, and I have quite a few too, but I can't see well enough to give you a good description of me.
I feel like taking a nap too, but it is only 6pm and if I sleep now, I will be up all night. The candles are burning and some may mistaken this for frolicking time, but we may have reached that point in our lives when we have a different priority and just like the dogs, who are already asleep, we are just too plain tired.
I think that last Sunday prompted me to write this article. We went to church in our black Xterra. My husband used his clicker thing to lock the car and in to church we went.
After church we came out and headed for our car. Both of us opened our separate doors at the same time, even though I didn't hear the clicker. We both stood for a few seconds, staring at the car and we both shut the doors at the same time. We looked over the car at each other and asked, "whose car is this?" We didn't know, but it wasnt' ours. Yes it was the same make and color, but it belonged to someone else. Who ever heard of not locking your car doors?
We looked around hoping that the owner hadn't witnessed our senior moment, then found our car, got in and burst out laughing. Well it could have been worse, suppose we got in and didn't know it wasn't our car and the owner came up and asked us what we were doing? I could imagine telling him that we were going home and the owner would say, "Not in my car you're not. Now get out before I call the police!"
I am having increasing difficulty saying what I want to say or remembering what I went into a room to get. I can't possibly function without a list and as soon as I finish a list, I start a new one.
I am forever losing things. I had a black hat and I loved it. I used it one day, put it somewhere and I have combed the house for it. But it is gone, vanished right into thin air. It is probably in the same place as the hearing aide and I will never see either of them again.
At night we have the same ritual, each of us goes into our own little world of wind down. The TV goes off and all conversation ceases, such as it is. He grabs a book and 3 cough drops, which is the exact amount required for him to get to sleep.
I go into the bathroom and start taking my meds, some are herbal, some are prescription and some are the missed ones of the morning. I stare at my wrinkles, plaster on the cold cream, grab 6 cough drops and drop onto my air mattress. Don't ask me what the scientific principle is with the cough drops, they are just necessary.
I make it a plan to start praying every night and I have to say that this works better than any other sleeping aide. I yawn and my mind wanders and I fall fast asleep, often I wake up 2 hrs later with the cough drop still in my mouth. How odd it doesn't dissolve while I slept or slip down my throat to choke me to death.
I believe that my sleeping problems began with my first child and I think that maybe I have had 3 nights in 27 yrs that I have slept uninterrupted. I admit to you that closing my eyes and waking up 8 hrs later is like being sent to another dimension. It scares me. I wonder if I visit another world, but I like it there, as long as the bathroom dreams don't keep returning.
My mother doesn't age like other older folks. She remembers everything she tells you, including the things she never did tell you and it is a hopeless waste of time to argue with her. She never forgets a birthday and more than once she has reminded me of my own anniversay, not only the date but the actual years of marriage.
I know that I do not take after her with the sharp mind and if history repeats itself, I am just a few years from a stroke. I know that this is not a legal document, but don't let them put a feeding tube in me, which reminds me, I need to put on the list to initiate my living will.
The groom looked as if he didn't have a care in the world. He had a crop of dark, brown hair and 2 of the cutest dimples I have ever seen. The bride was smiling and was free of wrinkles and had 2 shiny dark eyes, void of cirlces or worry lines. If I hadn't have found them in my own house, I would not have guessed who they were, but it was us in 1981.
Here we sit tonight with my $1 bifocals and my husband is stretched out asleep in the recliner. I glanced over at him, the crop of brown hair has been replaced by gray stubble, his chest hairs are gray and sticking out of his shirt. I can't remember when I last saw the dimples. His mouth is open and he is making some crazy snoring sounds while his legs are jumping. His shirt is exposing his love handles that used to be abds. Yep there are changes, and I have quite a few too, but I can't see well enough to give you a good description of me.
I feel like taking a nap too, but it is only 6pm and if I sleep now, I will be up all night. The candles are burning and some may mistaken this for frolicking time, but we may have reached that point in our lives when we have a different priority and just like the dogs, who are already asleep, we are just too plain tired.
I think that last Sunday prompted me to write this article. We went to church in our black Xterra. My husband used his clicker thing to lock the car and in to church we went.
After church we came out and headed for our car. Both of us opened our separate doors at the same time, even though I didn't hear the clicker. We both stood for a few seconds, staring at the car and we both shut the doors at the same time. We looked over the car at each other and asked, "whose car is this?" We didn't know, but it wasnt' ours. Yes it was the same make and color, but it belonged to someone else. Who ever heard of not locking your car doors?
We looked around hoping that the owner hadn't witnessed our senior moment, then found our car, got in and burst out laughing. Well it could have been worse, suppose we got in and didn't know it wasn't our car and the owner came up and asked us what we were doing? I could imagine telling him that we were going home and the owner would say, "Not in my car you're not. Now get out before I call the police!"
I am having increasing difficulty saying what I want to say or remembering what I went into a room to get. I can't possibly function without a list and as soon as I finish a list, I start a new one.
I am forever losing things. I had a black hat and I loved it. I used it one day, put it somewhere and I have combed the house for it. But it is gone, vanished right into thin air. It is probably in the same place as the hearing aide and I will never see either of them again.
At night we have the same ritual, each of us goes into our own little world of wind down. The TV goes off and all conversation ceases, such as it is. He grabs a book and 3 cough drops, which is the exact amount required for him to get to sleep.
I go into the bathroom and start taking my meds, some are herbal, some are prescription and some are the missed ones of the morning. I stare at my wrinkles, plaster on the cold cream, grab 6 cough drops and drop onto my air mattress. Don't ask me what the scientific principle is with the cough drops, they are just necessary.
I make it a plan to start praying every night and I have to say that this works better than any other sleeping aide. I yawn and my mind wanders and I fall fast asleep, often I wake up 2 hrs later with the cough drop still in my mouth. How odd it doesn't dissolve while I slept or slip down my throat to choke me to death.
I believe that my sleeping problems began with my first child and I think that maybe I have had 3 nights in 27 yrs that I have slept uninterrupted. I admit to you that closing my eyes and waking up 8 hrs later is like being sent to another dimension. It scares me. I wonder if I visit another world, but I like it there, as long as the bathroom dreams don't keep returning.
My mother doesn't age like other older folks. She remembers everything she tells you, including the things she never did tell you and it is a hopeless waste of time to argue with her. She never forgets a birthday and more than once she has reminded me of my own anniversay, not only the date but the actual years of marriage.
I know that I do not take after her with the sharp mind and if history repeats itself, I am just a few years from a stroke. I know that this is not a legal document, but don't let them put a feeding tube in me, which reminds me, I need to put on the list to initiate my living will.
Saturday, October 17, 2009
Changing Pews
Church going as a child was a long ordeal, 2-3 hrs long. Time meant nothing to evangelists in those days. They didn't care if they ever dismissed the crowd or if you were yawning. They were in the soul-saving business and let's fact it, this takes time.
Oddly enough, there were no bathrooms in the sanctuary. Can you imagine that? Well get this-no got up and walked out to return in a few minutes. It just was not done. We could really hold in those body fluids. Maybe the Coke-Cola, which we rarely drank, was not as lethal on the bladder as it seems to be now.
Or maybe it was the training of the good ole Moms of the 50's. Rules went like this:
1. When you sit on the toilet, you do something.
2. When you sit on a church pew, you do nothing.
Imagine that!!! And all the Moms had the same rules. Anyway the point of this is to try to figure out why there is a constant flow of traffice during the sermon. Do you wonder where everyone is going?
Maybe there is a bake sale in the foyer and it's buy one, get one free. Or maybe there is a sign-up sheet for volunteers of the 4 yr old class for Vacation Bible School, first come , first serve.
Maybe they got a text message from their secret friend, we should be happy their phone was on vibrate.
We all know where they are going-to the bathroom. Someone, somewhere, once upon a time, decided that a sanctuary was not complete without a bathroom and it was so. The concept caught on and pretty soon, all churches had one.
We attended a church once that had a bathroom right out of the Ethan Alan Catalog. There was scented potpouri, Yankie Candles, soft lights, and a beautiful sitting room with early American furniture. I admit that my one visit there (between Sunday school and church) was one of admiration. I didn't want to leave and I wanted to come back. So I don't blame the folks that get caught up in the bliss of the john.
I have wondered though, what does one do in the sitting room? Do you sit there waiting your turn? Does the ladies prayer group hold meetings there? What ???
Moms of this generation have only one rule:
DO NOT USE the bathroom before leaving the house, save it for church !!
I admire the pastors who can stay focused during the peak hour of traffic, oblivious to the congestion of people walking up and down the aisles. I predict that in the near future, a 20 minute sermon will require a 5 minute intermission.
My brother, a pastor, has that focus ability, but this is reasonable since he did his homework in front of the TV. WOW !!!
Anyway, back to the church of today, if I am not distracted by the potty people, then the babies get ready for their show.
Can you imagine expecting a toddler to sit quietly today for a 2-3 hr sermon? Well it can be done, because I did it and I knew what to expect if I didn't.
Churches today do not expect the toddlers to be still, and so the nursery was made and it was good. This is special time where the toddler can destroy the donated toys, exchange viruses, and totally pluck the last nerve of the nursery worker.
The nursery quickly became God's gift to pastors. Moms who dare to bring a little one in for the worship service get an evil eye from on-lookers and try to stare her down until she runs with her child to the nursery.
Good, now we can actually hear the pastor!! Thanks. lady. Sorry, if I hurt your feelings, but your screeching little one is just plain ugly, so there, be gone, and don't come back until you hear the music.
Can we be too surprised when these same little ones that enter kindergarten have no idea that a seat is for sitting or not to talk unless someone tells them to?
I call this generation, the anti-play pen group. My mother knew that play pens were the special things that God gave Mommies, yet the play pen is not used for the toddler today. It is used to store their toys. One mother used it to put the Christmas tree in so her toddler didn't destroy it. Good thinking, now why didn't I think of that?
We were kept in a play pen until we could jump in and out independently and knew better that to eat crickets, we were about 4 yrs old, depending on our coordination skills.
I know that the play pen industry must be suffering. When was the last time you saw a little one in a play pen?
I recall one tired Mom who decided early on, as soon as her toddler, jumped out of the play pen, that it was too dangerous for him. So he explored the house 14 hrs a day with her walking behind him. After getting to know the operator at Poison Control on a first name basis, this Mom was almost committed to Mother-la-la-land.
I recall another Mom of twins with two older kids, who managed to get her housework done and mastered keeping her sanity. She has a secret place that God gave only to her. This was the twins bedroom with a door that locked from the outside. Yep, every afternoon, she locked them in for two hours. The room was baby-proof and she didn't mind that they tore off their diapers and played with them. They practically ripped the room apart, but that is not the point. This is about sanity.
Moms today feel that their children need to explore and express themselves. So sad to think of how my own Mother stunted my exploring phase by putting me in a play pen. Shame on her!
But the traffice aisle people and the babies are not the only distractions, it is the lovey, dovey, couples. My, my, what do they do before coming to church. I see neck rubbing, bra strap caressing, and hands in the others back pockets. They whisper to each other and smile. Well I think they are talking dirty to each other. Shame on them !
But worship is different now, the clothes such as they are, are tight, short, and revealing. Clothes that were once worn by the scamp and the vamp are now church clothes. I wonder what God thinks? Maybe He looks on the inside and is just glad that they came to His house.
Maybe I should sit up front ! That suggestion came from my brother.
Oddly enough, there were no bathrooms in the sanctuary. Can you imagine that? Well get this-no got up and walked out to return in a few minutes. It just was not done. We could really hold in those body fluids. Maybe the Coke-Cola, which we rarely drank, was not as lethal on the bladder as it seems to be now.
Or maybe it was the training of the good ole Moms of the 50's. Rules went like this:
1. When you sit on the toilet, you do something.
2. When you sit on a church pew, you do nothing.
Imagine that!!! And all the Moms had the same rules. Anyway the point of this is to try to figure out why there is a constant flow of traffice during the sermon. Do you wonder where everyone is going?
Maybe there is a bake sale in the foyer and it's buy one, get one free. Or maybe there is a sign-up sheet for volunteers of the 4 yr old class for Vacation Bible School, first come , first serve.
Maybe they got a text message from their secret friend, we should be happy their phone was on vibrate.
We all know where they are going-to the bathroom. Someone, somewhere, once upon a time, decided that a sanctuary was not complete without a bathroom and it was so. The concept caught on and pretty soon, all churches had one.
We attended a church once that had a bathroom right out of the Ethan Alan Catalog. There was scented potpouri, Yankie Candles, soft lights, and a beautiful sitting room with early American furniture. I admit that my one visit there (between Sunday school and church) was one of admiration. I didn't want to leave and I wanted to come back. So I don't blame the folks that get caught up in the bliss of the john.
I have wondered though, what does one do in the sitting room? Do you sit there waiting your turn? Does the ladies prayer group hold meetings there? What ???
Moms of this generation have only one rule:
DO NOT USE the bathroom before leaving the house, save it for church !!
I admire the pastors who can stay focused during the peak hour of traffic, oblivious to the congestion of people walking up and down the aisles. I predict that in the near future, a 20 minute sermon will require a 5 minute intermission.
My brother, a pastor, has that focus ability, but this is reasonable since he did his homework in front of the TV. WOW !!!
Anyway, back to the church of today, if I am not distracted by the potty people, then the babies get ready for their show.
Can you imagine expecting a toddler to sit quietly today for a 2-3 hr sermon? Well it can be done, because I did it and I knew what to expect if I didn't.
Churches today do not expect the toddlers to be still, and so the nursery was made and it was good. This is special time where the toddler can destroy the donated toys, exchange viruses, and totally pluck the last nerve of the nursery worker.
The nursery quickly became God's gift to pastors. Moms who dare to bring a little one in for the worship service get an evil eye from on-lookers and try to stare her down until she runs with her child to the nursery.
Good, now we can actually hear the pastor!! Thanks. lady. Sorry, if I hurt your feelings, but your screeching little one is just plain ugly, so there, be gone, and don't come back until you hear the music.
Can we be too surprised when these same little ones that enter kindergarten have no idea that a seat is for sitting or not to talk unless someone tells them to?
I call this generation, the anti-play pen group. My mother knew that play pens were the special things that God gave Mommies, yet the play pen is not used for the toddler today. It is used to store their toys. One mother used it to put the Christmas tree in so her toddler didn't destroy it. Good thinking, now why didn't I think of that?
We were kept in a play pen until we could jump in and out independently and knew better that to eat crickets, we were about 4 yrs old, depending on our coordination skills.
I know that the play pen industry must be suffering. When was the last time you saw a little one in a play pen?
I recall one tired Mom who decided early on, as soon as her toddler, jumped out of the play pen, that it was too dangerous for him. So he explored the house 14 hrs a day with her walking behind him. After getting to know the operator at Poison Control on a first name basis, this Mom was almost committed to Mother-la-la-land.
I recall another Mom of twins with two older kids, who managed to get her housework done and mastered keeping her sanity. She has a secret place that God gave only to her. This was the twins bedroom with a door that locked from the outside. Yep, every afternoon, she locked them in for two hours. The room was baby-proof and she didn't mind that they tore off their diapers and played with them. They practically ripped the room apart, but that is not the point. This is about sanity.
Moms today feel that their children need to explore and express themselves. So sad to think of how my own Mother stunted my exploring phase by putting me in a play pen. Shame on her!
But the traffice aisle people and the babies are not the only distractions, it is the lovey, dovey, couples. My, my, what do they do before coming to church. I see neck rubbing, bra strap caressing, and hands in the others back pockets. They whisper to each other and smile. Well I think they are talking dirty to each other. Shame on them !
But worship is different now, the clothes such as they are, are tight, short, and revealing. Clothes that were once worn by the scamp and the vamp are now church clothes. I wonder what God thinks? Maybe He looks on the inside and is just glad that they came to His house.
Maybe I should sit up front ! That suggestion came from my brother.
Thursday, October 15, 2009
Smitten by the Love Bug
I have to say that the only thing that gets deeper in my craw even deeper than the newsy Christmas letters, is the lovey, dovey, couples. The ones that know when the other had their last bowel movement. As far as I am concerned, that is crossing the line. And frankly, I think it is all a fake, huge cover-up to make you covet their relationship so that you fantasize about life with their spouse. Yeah, it's all a trick of the Devil to get one of your feet in Hell !
I can only imagine life with an attentive man. Let's see now, he would follow me up and down the aisles of WalMart, winking at me as I spend his money. He would demand that I quit work and take naps everyday, so we could rub peanut butter on each other every night. He would insist on helping with the chores and he would hire a housekeeper so we could spend time just looking into each other's eyes with love. He would insist that I get satisfied when we make love, even if he has to do it all night and die trying. Wow, I am getting hot just writing this. (had to take off my sweater)
Just last week at the hospital, I saw a couple that just about made me sick. The patient, who was having a gallbladder attack, was accompanied to her room by her son and daughter-in-law. I had to get the patient ready for surgery so I was in her room for some time. I stepped out to get an IV bag and when I returned the daughter-in-law was sitting on her husband's lap, just as snug as a bug in a rug. They asked me when the patient was going to surgery, as they were debating on the time factor of getting back to Pennsylvania to feed the farm animals. Yeah right, they didn't care about feeding those animals, they just wanted to get home for some rabbit love making, since they hadn't missed a night in their entire marrage. Can you imagine anything being that good?
I looked at the son with wonder in my eyes. He had on a dark shirt with two long white stains on the front, that I'd like to think was toothpaste. He wore dirty jeans and boots and I am pretty sure that he was missing some teeth, but his wife did not see what I saw. He was far from handsome and she was no prize, but they were in love, giggling and hugging, totally disgusting display. When they left, I assumed that they just went out to their truck in the wide open parking lot, just rocking and rolling, not caring who saw them.
I knew they were smitten by the love bug. They were a couple that could not stand for the other to be out of their site. The same kind that couldn't sleep unless they were wrapped around each other. The kind that wouldn't want to live if the other one died. Imagine that !!!
Back in the old days, middle aged men married 15 yr old girls, mere children, and I think I know why. Girls this age never heard of foreplay and so rabbit love making was good to them. In case you are wondering what rabbit love making is, don't ask me, I just made it up.
We saw a movie not too long ago, I forget the name, but there was a quick scene, no nudity, just two upright people clutching at each other in desperation for something. At first, I thought they were fighting and it reminded me of the fight I had with Pansy in the 7th grade.
Anyway, to continue, he backed her flat against the wall and not gently, mind you. No clothes came off, but you could tell what was going on. In about 2 minutes, it must have been over, since they slumped, gasping to the floor almost unconscious from all the joy. For a moment, I thought they had been shot. I am amazed that one of them didn't die from that moment. I have to admit that I was impressed since even a rabbit could not have been any faster.
I think that love-making is only necessary to produce children, and after you have had the worrisome kids, the love-making is over. "It" has served it purpose and "it" should be put down to stay down.
Last week, "a been put down thing" type of patient arrived on our unit. He had minor surgery, the installation of a "thing" prosthesis. Now don't get the wrong picture here, the prosthesis is no an extension of the real "thing", but a device that keeps the old "thing" working like an ever-ready battery.
Being the good nurse that I am, I had to check the post operative site and I admit that I was looking forward to it ! Now let me explain what I saw- the one-eyes snake was neither up or down, it was a betweensy you might say. And it was staring right at me. It had a magic button for the a"right thing time", but I was afraid to look.
So I have come up with a new name for love-making after age 55-pretend love-making where he pretends he is doing it and she pretends she likes it !!!!
I can only imagine life with an attentive man. Let's see now, he would follow me up and down the aisles of WalMart, winking at me as I spend his money. He would demand that I quit work and take naps everyday, so we could rub peanut butter on each other every night. He would insist on helping with the chores and he would hire a housekeeper so we could spend time just looking into each other's eyes with love. He would insist that I get satisfied when we make love, even if he has to do it all night and die trying. Wow, I am getting hot just writing this. (had to take off my sweater)
Just last week at the hospital, I saw a couple that just about made me sick. The patient, who was having a gallbladder attack, was accompanied to her room by her son and daughter-in-law. I had to get the patient ready for surgery so I was in her room for some time. I stepped out to get an IV bag and when I returned the daughter-in-law was sitting on her husband's lap, just as snug as a bug in a rug. They asked me when the patient was going to surgery, as they were debating on the time factor of getting back to Pennsylvania to feed the farm animals. Yeah right, they didn't care about feeding those animals, they just wanted to get home for some rabbit love making, since they hadn't missed a night in their entire marrage. Can you imagine anything being that good?
I looked at the son with wonder in my eyes. He had on a dark shirt with two long white stains on the front, that I'd like to think was toothpaste. He wore dirty jeans and boots and I am pretty sure that he was missing some teeth, but his wife did not see what I saw. He was far from handsome and she was no prize, but they were in love, giggling and hugging, totally disgusting display. When they left, I assumed that they just went out to their truck in the wide open parking lot, just rocking and rolling, not caring who saw them.
I knew they were smitten by the love bug. They were a couple that could not stand for the other to be out of their site. The same kind that couldn't sleep unless they were wrapped around each other. The kind that wouldn't want to live if the other one died. Imagine that !!!
Back in the old days, middle aged men married 15 yr old girls, mere children, and I think I know why. Girls this age never heard of foreplay and so rabbit love making was good to them. In case you are wondering what rabbit love making is, don't ask me, I just made it up.
We saw a movie not too long ago, I forget the name, but there was a quick scene, no nudity, just two upright people clutching at each other in desperation for something. At first, I thought they were fighting and it reminded me of the fight I had with Pansy in the 7th grade.
Anyway, to continue, he backed her flat against the wall and not gently, mind you. No clothes came off, but you could tell what was going on. In about 2 minutes, it must have been over, since they slumped, gasping to the floor almost unconscious from all the joy. For a moment, I thought they had been shot. I am amazed that one of them didn't die from that moment. I have to admit that I was impressed since even a rabbit could not have been any faster.
I think that love-making is only necessary to produce children, and after you have had the worrisome kids, the love-making is over. "It" has served it purpose and "it" should be put down to stay down.
Last week, "a been put down thing" type of patient arrived on our unit. He had minor surgery, the installation of a "thing" prosthesis. Now don't get the wrong picture here, the prosthesis is no an extension of the real "thing", but a device that keeps the old "thing" working like an ever-ready battery.
Being the good nurse that I am, I had to check the post operative site and I admit that I was looking forward to it ! Now let me explain what I saw- the one-eyes snake was neither up or down, it was a betweensy you might say. And it was staring right at me. It had a magic button for the a"right thing time", but I was afraid to look.
So I have come up with a new name for love-making after age 55-pretend love-making where he pretends he is doing it and she pretends she likes it !!!!
Tuesday, October 13, 2009
How to Tolerate a New Nurse Manager
1. If you new nurse manager pops in on your unit at any old time, unannounced and not welcome, nothing good will come of it.
2. If she comes up with a uniform color scheme for a shade that totally turns you off and one that you wouldn't be buried in, you should just wear the traditional white which is the color of purity and cleanliness, something you may not have seen for a while. Besides, look on the bright side, the more alike the nurses look, the harder it will be for a patient to identify them in court.
3. If you can't afford new uniforms, just use an old white sheet, cut a hole in the middle of it for your head and tie some white yarn around the waist of the draped sheet. You might look like a nun, and what is wrong with that especially if you work in a Catholic hospital?
4. If she does some serious clock watching and notices that you are late dragging your butt out of your own home to get to work, you might want to set your clocks ahead of time, or you may be in for some serious down time.
5. If she notices your sick calls due to your failing health that springs up at the last minute, you might want to keep a log of doctor visits and have him send her a letter that you are borderline disabled.
6. If she does a surprise visit to your unit in the wee hours of the morning, you might want to check the want ads, since a stick of dynamite is about to go off under your chair.
7. If you are told that there is a reason to believe that you are not giving good nursing care, you might want to make a few good friends on your unit, since you will be desperate for a reference.
8. If you get a poor evaluation from your new manager and you wonder how she got wind of all those negative things she wrote, you had better make a few friends with your patients and beg them to write her a nice letter about your wonderful care to them. You may have to offer them some money in return.
9. If your new manager tells you that some changes are about to occur and she can't share the news, it could be that she is going to do some serious housecleaning to rid her unit of staff members that she feels should have a different profession.
10. If your new manager has her door closed with the lights on, you can not assume that she is not in there and you should perform your duties as if she was right beside you looking over your shoulder like your mother would do.
11. If your new manager tells you that this unit is the filthiest place she has ever seen and that you are a part of the problem, you had better invest in some trash bags from WalMart and put them in your locker along with your own supply of toilet paper, paper towels, soap, and a BJ's size bottle of Kaboom.
12. If your new manager notices food stuck in the keys of your keyboard of the computer, she may assume that you ordered out for Chinese food and eat while you chart. So don't leave her a message telling her that didn't get a 30 minute lunch break.
13. If your new manager walks on your unit unexpectedly and sees you wearing a jacket, she might get the wrong impresssion. She might think that you are cold because you sat too long at your computer doing high-tech nursing skills, that replace your hands on nursing skills.
14. If your new manage sees you with a cell phone at your ear, she might get the wrong impression thinking that you are talking on the phone instead of using the cell phone for an ear muff.
15. If your new manager tells you that she is not familiar with the cell phone policy, you can be sure that she will incorporate her own policy. You might want to talk to your family before you come to work.
16. If she outlaws the cell phone, this will include text messaging as well. If you have time to use your personal phone, then you are not as busy as you claim to be.
17. If she thinks you answer your cell phone at the first ring and you let your patient's call light ring for 10 minutes, she will assume that you have your priorities screwed up.
18. If she tells you the unit patient satisfaction is at an all time low, you can bet she was hired to fix the problem. If you are worried, then you should be.
19. If your new manage takes on the nick name of Ice Pick, then maybe that is why she was hired. She is not here to be your friend and if I were you, I would try to stay on her good side.
2. If she comes up with a uniform color scheme for a shade that totally turns you off and one that you wouldn't be buried in, you should just wear the traditional white which is the color of purity and cleanliness, something you may not have seen for a while. Besides, look on the bright side, the more alike the nurses look, the harder it will be for a patient to identify them in court.
3. If you can't afford new uniforms, just use an old white sheet, cut a hole in the middle of it for your head and tie some white yarn around the waist of the draped sheet. You might look like a nun, and what is wrong with that especially if you work in a Catholic hospital?
4. If she does some serious clock watching and notices that you are late dragging your butt out of your own home to get to work, you might want to set your clocks ahead of time, or you may be in for some serious down time.
5. If she notices your sick calls due to your failing health that springs up at the last minute, you might want to keep a log of doctor visits and have him send her a letter that you are borderline disabled.
6. If she does a surprise visit to your unit in the wee hours of the morning, you might want to check the want ads, since a stick of dynamite is about to go off under your chair.
7. If you are told that there is a reason to believe that you are not giving good nursing care, you might want to make a few good friends on your unit, since you will be desperate for a reference.
8. If you get a poor evaluation from your new manager and you wonder how she got wind of all those negative things she wrote, you had better make a few friends with your patients and beg them to write her a nice letter about your wonderful care to them. You may have to offer them some money in return.
9. If your new manager tells you that some changes are about to occur and she can't share the news, it could be that she is going to do some serious housecleaning to rid her unit of staff members that she feels should have a different profession.
10. If your new manager has her door closed with the lights on, you can not assume that she is not in there and you should perform your duties as if she was right beside you looking over your shoulder like your mother would do.
11. If your new manager tells you that this unit is the filthiest place she has ever seen and that you are a part of the problem, you had better invest in some trash bags from WalMart and put them in your locker along with your own supply of toilet paper, paper towels, soap, and a BJ's size bottle of Kaboom.
12. If your new manager notices food stuck in the keys of your keyboard of the computer, she may assume that you ordered out for Chinese food and eat while you chart. So don't leave her a message telling her that didn't get a 30 minute lunch break.
13. If your new manager walks on your unit unexpectedly and sees you wearing a jacket, she might get the wrong impresssion. She might think that you are cold because you sat too long at your computer doing high-tech nursing skills, that replace your hands on nursing skills.
14. If your new manage sees you with a cell phone at your ear, she might get the wrong impression thinking that you are talking on the phone instead of using the cell phone for an ear muff.
15. If your new manager tells you that she is not familiar with the cell phone policy, you can be sure that she will incorporate her own policy. You might want to talk to your family before you come to work.
16. If she outlaws the cell phone, this will include text messaging as well. If you have time to use your personal phone, then you are not as busy as you claim to be.
17. If she thinks you answer your cell phone at the first ring and you let your patient's call light ring for 10 minutes, she will assume that you have your priorities screwed up.
18. If she tells you the unit patient satisfaction is at an all time low, you can bet she was hired to fix the problem. If you are worried, then you should be.
19. If your new manage takes on the nick name of Ice Pick, then maybe that is why she was hired. She is not here to be your friend and if I were you, I would try to stay on her good side.
Friday, October 9, 2009
The Flip Side
This past week, I added two more skittles to my over-crowded medicine bin. I can no longer poke fun at the needy, sick people since God has punished me severely for those bad thoughts and has placed me on a bed of affliction. I know, its all my fault and I am going to have to repent of those sins down the road, I think.
I have joined the other side. I no longer care for the sick, I am the sick. I am the flip side of being well. I have crossed over and joined the whiny. I now date Ben Gay. How sad!
I am the one on hold for the doctor's office. I am the one waiting for weeks for test results. I am the one in the dark, never knowing what is going on in my own body. I have concluded that health professionals are on a mission impossible to see if their sad neglect of a sick person will cause that person more health problems and thus pay for someone's yacht.
I am on the assembly line trying to talk to desk people who are more concerned about the HIPAA paperwork, than an abnormal EKG. They peer at me and request the co-pay and the referral before they let me sign in. They reach for my insurance card and my driver's license. HUH?? I am given 6 pages or more of needless questions that no one reads and each page has at least one question that was on the previous page.
After the paperwork, I am told to go sit down, where I wait with the other zillion sick people, who are entranced by a huge TV with two women having a cat fight on the Jerry Springer show.
I try not to notice that the "others" are old and gray with hearing aides, walkers, and portable O2. They look sick, poor things and I wonder how they got to the doctor's office. Did they drive? Heaven forbid!
Finally my name is called and I get ushered into a cold examining room where a gown is tossed to me and I am told to disrobe. Slam, she is gone. And so I do as I am told and sit on a paper table cloth, like that prevents the spread of germs somehow.
How many times have I told my patients,"the doctor will be in soon?" Soon, in doctor time, could be an hour or more. Soon, is after awhile, or later, or whenever. And I just wish I could go home and be a well person again like I used to be, but instead I have to content myself to sit and wait, while I freeze and pray that there is a magical pill to make me well again.
The door finally opens and the doctor enters the room with no apology for sucking up my whole day from work for one-15 minute office visit. He gets a phone call as he glances over my chart and there are several knocks on the door, interruptions that can't be avoided. It's not like I was having a manicure where I am the sole focus of people who don't speak English and the charge is about 1/100th less.
He takes the time to listen to my heart which I am there complaining about due to skipped beats, and gallop beats, but as bad luck would have it, my heart is in perfect rhythm which plays down my need for his immediate attention and I am put in a pile of not-so-urgent complainers. Whatever was wrong with me can wait until later! In the meantime, I can go see another specialist and repeat the whole process again if I am desperate enough, which I am not!
I tried to remember how this episode of illness took place. Perhaps, it was my own fault for putting my health on the back burner, or maybe I just waited until I had 3 ailments like I do with the plumber. You know you can save money this way, since they charge for entering your home.
I do remember telling my primary doctor that I felt dizzy at times. This little complaint sent me to an ENT doctor for a load of tests. I was then referred to a neurologist who had no idea why I was sent to him and he kindly referred me to a neurosurgeon. The neurosurgeon was unimpressed with my poor balance, especially since I had not caused an accident with a 20 car pile up on the beltway and had not fallen onto my patient's bed at work.
Sadly another health issue erupted and I had an echocardiogram that showed a severe leaking mitral valve in my heart, but it must not have been too bad, since I didn't get the report until 12 days later. I was sent to a cardiologist, who reviewed the echo, but the tech left out one part of the report and he couldn't decide if I needed heart surgery or not. I was told to wait a few months and have the test repeated.
No wonder health costs are sky-rocketing!
Then my back pain issues surfaced its ugly head. I became on a first name basis with the xray tech. I had 2 MRIs, a spine xray, and an abdominal CT. I had 3 visits to the orthopedic MD and weeks of PT. I still feel like a walker would be nice.
It became apparent that my bedside nursing days were over. So I am trying to write something that will sell like the Harry Potter books.
See the attached Ad- Work Needed !
Nurse available, Will work for money. Dependable. Seeks a used walker. Would prefer to work in an environment where people talk loud. Wears a back brace for lifting anything heavier than her purse. Would like a retirement plan, but will not be able to retire for 10 more years. Might need a mitral valve replaced, but I am sure it can be done on an out-patient basis, hopefully on a Saturday. Thank you, Aging Nurse.
P.S. Update, the mitral valve has been replaced. Now I just fall alot and am on a blood-thinner, but I doubt if I will fall at work !
I have joined the other side. I no longer care for the sick, I am the sick. I am the flip side of being well. I have crossed over and joined the whiny. I now date Ben Gay. How sad!
I am the one on hold for the doctor's office. I am the one waiting for weeks for test results. I am the one in the dark, never knowing what is going on in my own body. I have concluded that health professionals are on a mission impossible to see if their sad neglect of a sick person will cause that person more health problems and thus pay for someone's yacht.
I am on the assembly line trying to talk to desk people who are more concerned about the HIPAA paperwork, than an abnormal EKG. They peer at me and request the co-pay and the referral before they let me sign in. They reach for my insurance card and my driver's license. HUH?? I am given 6 pages or more of needless questions that no one reads and each page has at least one question that was on the previous page.
After the paperwork, I am told to go sit down, where I wait with the other zillion sick people, who are entranced by a huge TV with two women having a cat fight on the Jerry Springer show.
I try not to notice that the "others" are old and gray with hearing aides, walkers, and portable O2. They look sick, poor things and I wonder how they got to the doctor's office. Did they drive? Heaven forbid!
Finally my name is called and I get ushered into a cold examining room where a gown is tossed to me and I am told to disrobe. Slam, she is gone. And so I do as I am told and sit on a paper table cloth, like that prevents the spread of germs somehow.
How many times have I told my patients,"the doctor will be in soon?" Soon, in doctor time, could be an hour or more. Soon, is after awhile, or later, or whenever. And I just wish I could go home and be a well person again like I used to be, but instead I have to content myself to sit and wait, while I freeze and pray that there is a magical pill to make me well again.
The door finally opens and the doctor enters the room with no apology for sucking up my whole day from work for one-15 minute office visit. He gets a phone call as he glances over my chart and there are several knocks on the door, interruptions that can't be avoided. It's not like I was having a manicure where I am the sole focus of people who don't speak English and the charge is about 1/100th less.
He takes the time to listen to my heart which I am there complaining about due to skipped beats, and gallop beats, but as bad luck would have it, my heart is in perfect rhythm which plays down my need for his immediate attention and I am put in a pile of not-so-urgent complainers. Whatever was wrong with me can wait until later! In the meantime, I can go see another specialist and repeat the whole process again if I am desperate enough, which I am not!
I tried to remember how this episode of illness took place. Perhaps, it was my own fault for putting my health on the back burner, or maybe I just waited until I had 3 ailments like I do with the plumber. You know you can save money this way, since they charge for entering your home.
I do remember telling my primary doctor that I felt dizzy at times. This little complaint sent me to an ENT doctor for a load of tests. I was then referred to a neurologist who had no idea why I was sent to him and he kindly referred me to a neurosurgeon. The neurosurgeon was unimpressed with my poor balance, especially since I had not caused an accident with a 20 car pile up on the beltway and had not fallen onto my patient's bed at work.
Sadly another health issue erupted and I had an echocardiogram that showed a severe leaking mitral valve in my heart, but it must not have been too bad, since I didn't get the report until 12 days later. I was sent to a cardiologist, who reviewed the echo, but the tech left out one part of the report and he couldn't decide if I needed heart surgery or not. I was told to wait a few months and have the test repeated.
No wonder health costs are sky-rocketing!
Then my back pain issues surfaced its ugly head. I became on a first name basis with the xray tech. I had 2 MRIs, a spine xray, and an abdominal CT. I had 3 visits to the orthopedic MD and weeks of PT. I still feel like a walker would be nice.
It became apparent that my bedside nursing days were over. So I am trying to write something that will sell like the Harry Potter books.
See the attached Ad- Work Needed !
Nurse available, Will work for money. Dependable. Seeks a used walker. Would prefer to work in an environment where people talk loud. Wears a back brace for lifting anything heavier than her purse. Would like a retirement plan, but will not be able to retire for 10 more years. Might need a mitral valve replaced, but I am sure it can be done on an out-patient basis, hopefully on a Saturday. Thank you, Aging Nurse.
P.S. Update, the mitral valve has been replaced. Now I just fall alot and am on a blood-thinner, but I doubt if I will fall at work !
Thursday, October 8, 2009
Face Book
Hi friends that have found me already. I now have a facebook using my pen name, Christine R. Webster. I will be giving you updates on my books, especially the one that will be out in December. If you know anyone with a substance abuse problem or if you are dealing with it , just let me know and I can order a book for you. I will even sign it as if that really matters. The books are both under my pen name C.R.Webster.
How to Prevent Nurse Burn-Out
1. If your new direct admission pt does not have their long boring history on paper with a detailed medication list, send them back home to get it.
2. If your pt brings you a weekly medicine holder that is jammed with pills that look like colored skittles and they have no idea why they are taking so many pills, just send the pills and container home and give them a medicine cup full of M & Ms. This placebo affect works wonders.
3. If your patient tells you that they have a living will and that a copy is on record, tell them that by the time you find it, they could formulate a new one.
4. If you go in your patients room to apply a purple (NO CODE) bracelet and the patient doesn't know what you are talking about, just tell them the bracelet is a Lance Armstrong tribute and that it matches the cyanosis of their nail beds.
5. If a doctor is trying to find you, it's probably not a good thing and you should hide, but not in the linen closet as he may get the wrong idea.
6. Don't argue the pain score with your patients, since someone told them that the higher the score, the greater the dose of narcotic they will receive. Remember that sedated patients are low maintenance.
7. If you attempt to give an IV narcotic and the patient asks you to "shoot it in fast like the other nurse did", don't act surprised or tell them about protocols. This is all about the patient feeling good and improving patient satisfaction.
8. Try your best to confuse your patient, by NOT changing the date on the board in their room and don't ever put your real name up there, since this could be used against you in a court of law. Just put the name of a nurse you don't particularly like and let her take the heat.
9. If you have less than 6 patients, the supervisor will go out to the front of the hospital and drag in some construction workers to fill up your empty beds.
10. If your patient is admitted to rule out C-Diff, this is a guarantee that they will never had another BM !!
11. If you see someone in Isolation in a yellow gown reach out of the room for something on the cart, you have to assume they are following the isolation technique just like the doctor who wasn't wearing even a yellow gown.
12. If you get called to the phone more than twice in a 12 hr shift to talk to family members who prefer to call instead of visiting their loved one, just have the secretary play a generic tape to all of them, "Stable and snoring !"
13. If you are amazed about the sitting down time of some of your co-workers, just ask them if you can shadow with them for a day or so to learn the tricks of the trade. At least, you will get to eat.
2. If your pt brings you a weekly medicine holder that is jammed with pills that look like colored skittles and they have no idea why they are taking so many pills, just send the pills and container home and give them a medicine cup full of M & Ms. This placebo affect works wonders.
3. If your patient tells you that they have a living will and that a copy is on record, tell them that by the time you find it, they could formulate a new one.
4. If you go in your patients room to apply a purple (NO CODE) bracelet and the patient doesn't know what you are talking about, just tell them the bracelet is a Lance Armstrong tribute and that it matches the cyanosis of their nail beds.
5. If a doctor is trying to find you, it's probably not a good thing and you should hide, but not in the linen closet as he may get the wrong idea.
6. Don't argue the pain score with your patients, since someone told them that the higher the score, the greater the dose of narcotic they will receive. Remember that sedated patients are low maintenance.
7. If you attempt to give an IV narcotic and the patient asks you to "shoot it in fast like the other nurse did", don't act surprised or tell them about protocols. This is all about the patient feeling good and improving patient satisfaction.
8. Try your best to confuse your patient, by NOT changing the date on the board in their room and don't ever put your real name up there, since this could be used against you in a court of law. Just put the name of a nurse you don't particularly like and let her take the heat.
9. If you have less than 6 patients, the supervisor will go out to the front of the hospital and drag in some construction workers to fill up your empty beds.
10. If your patient is admitted to rule out C-Diff, this is a guarantee that they will never had another BM !!
11. If you see someone in Isolation in a yellow gown reach out of the room for something on the cart, you have to assume they are following the isolation technique just like the doctor who wasn't wearing even a yellow gown.
12. If you get called to the phone more than twice in a 12 hr shift to talk to family members who prefer to call instead of visiting their loved one, just have the secretary play a generic tape to all of them, "Stable and snoring !"
13. If you are amazed about the sitting down time of some of your co-workers, just ask them if you can shadow with them for a day or so to learn the tricks of the trade. At least, you will get to eat.
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