8/3/22

...my annual review..

Part of UNC's "Transitioning Employee Standards to Values" that was discussed during our meeting of the minds was the PowerPoint slides that UNC is promoting for an upcoming change to operations.  There were four slides.  All good.  The best one however, is called "Leading The Way".  Sound familiar?

I see that written on other's posts in social media.  It's a cute saying.  Well, I don't know if it was a retail therapy after a bad night at work, or just because it was time.  I purchased my quilting machine.  Damn near wiped out a credit card but....It had to be done.  I cannot allow myself to do such a poor job on the upcoming quilts.  And I just don't have the time to screw up another one.  I can do this - and will create honest beauty.  Not like our grandmothers made, or even our mothers.  Just pretty, and made with honest to goodness love.  It'll be here soon, I will post pictures for the world to see!

March 21, 2022

Part of the title of this web site is "One nurse's everyday stories".  Are the nurse's every day stories only work related?  Do they shed some light on the otherwise barely existent life outside of work?  Do they shed some light on the difficult relationships at least THIS nurse has had?  Do they provide health tips and education from an experienced nurse? How about all of the above?  What kind of chapter would that be called?  I'll try my best to let you in on at least the life and stories of THIS nurse.  At least the parts she wants to share.

It's been five months since i have added to this page, but not as long since contributing to the site itself.  I think it's going to need some reconstructing before I open it to the public, or at least my few friends that want to see it.  I've got to perhaps take my blog and make it a private page, if that's possible.  There are some things i enjoy writing about that help with disseminating things in my head, but not necessarily want to share them with the world.  

I initially thought that if i blogged often, it would make a good chapter in my book one day.  And it still might.  But i must heed the warning from my Psychiatric PA Daniel Meyring when he said, "be careful".  I understand, Daniel.  There was a short period in my work life that needed lashing out - and lash out I did.  And that's over. 

Since October, many things have happened to this nurse.  This single nurse of four dogs and a house for that matter.  

I was able to escape the dungeon of behavioral health, move up one floor and enter a whole new world - the proper world of nursing.  I applied for and accepted a position in the unit called "Second Brightleaf".  It is a fairly small unit that consists of medical patients, many of them in need of dialysis.  They come to this floor for perhaps another medical reason altogether, but since they require dialysis, they come here as the dialysis center is right down the hall.  We

We also get patients that are considered here as "outpatients", who are here for a short treatment such as a blood transfusion or IV antibiotic treatment.  We see very few of them at night but they do exist.  

During the second year and into the third year of the COVID-19 pandemic the unit also provided monoclonal antibody injections - a laboratory created antibody to help those inflicted with the virus but were not showing major symptoms.  It helped the body build the immunity they needed to recover quicker.  Now that the pandemic and those inflicted with it is waning down, and also because the virus has mutated a few times rendering the antibodies useless, we have not seen as many of these patients come through.

One last thing the unit manages, moreso during the day than the night, is those recovering from a basic cardiac procedure such as stent placement and pacemaker/defibrillator placement.  This is called "cardiac recovery" and a few nights a week there will be a few patients recovering.  Most nights things with these patients goes by without a hitch, however I hear stories of when things go bad. 

I love the people I now work for and with, and love the job I am able to do for patients in need of a good nurse for a night.  I can stay busy with work, or cleaning up the unit, or even writing my blog.  I can listen to music, have my headphones or not, eat lunch when I need to, and pretty much have autonomy over myself.  No more rigidity of the psyche unit.  

I've lost weight here, partly because of the medication I have been prescribed, and partly because I am on my feet and moving at a fast pace.  I also take the stairs whenever I can. That in itself feels good.

Shortly after getting here and getting my feet wet, an opportunity to work more and make WAY more came open and I jumped on it.  One extra shift per week, with a set schedule.  I am handling it pretty well.  Ive had to juggle a few things around at home, including caring for the dogs.  They have started showing their asses at times with the stress of being alone so much, but they are still handling it great.  I don't know how we do it.  

Another thing I am involved in is a company paid program called "Real Appeal" weight loss and health support.  It requires being interactive with the app, monitoring what I eat, the exercises i may or may not do, and a video meeting once a week for a half hour.  When I stopped taking the medication I was prescribed, i knew the potential for an increase in weight was almost certain.  I have to do something now without medication, to get, keep and improve my physical and mental health.  Many of us on this unit are involved, so we have to keep each other motivated. 

That is another thing I enjoy about being on 2nd Brightleaf.  Most of us are concerned about our overall health and weight, working out and healthy habits.  In my previous position, it was always a race to the cafeteria or vending machine or how much junk we could put away.  Most were/are overweight, smoke, have bad teeth, and have no motivation to grow personally or professionally.  This company is all about taking care of it's employees, and I'm one to take advantage of that benefit.  

It's been a year now, and I still have not received my Bronco.  Just a few months ago, it was "end of December", then "end of January".  However, i had to make a decision about something that i wish would have been made sooner.  My hvac unit decided it wanted to go to hvac heaven with my next door neighbors.  I didn't want to replace it right away since I was waiting to qualify for the Bronco purchase.  However, my electric bill was tripling and then some.  It became a 'need vs want' situation.  I was assured by the Ford salesman that i would still qualify for it despite having the new purchase and loan hanging over my head.  After all it was supposed to come at the end of January.  It was now January 28th.  Ugh.  I got pissy and found others who had been waiting longer for theirs, and added my comments on a social media outlet.  Those representing Ford's social media department reached out to me and asked for my information.  After a few days of ping pong emails, I was told "end of March, first week of April".  That date is approaching.  

It's a good thing because both of the cars now have to have work done on them.  Like yesterday.  I need one for the dogs, and I need it because the other will be in the shop for brakes.  It's not going to happen the way I'd like it to, because I also have a doctor's appointment on the day the brakes get done, and I'll have no car.  I'm thinking about riding my bike to the doctors office. Hey!  Yes!  I was considering taking the Cube and it's broken thermostat, but i don't want to cause it irreparable damage - it's got an appointment for the car doctor too!  I wonder if I CAN ride my bike.  It's not THAT far - is it?  I'll have to drive and see.  I had a dream about riding many miles on my bicycle.  It was a premonition.  My only concern is with all the construction going on, if I'll be safe.  Hmmm.

Ok, the last bit of insanity here.   Because I am going to be making a great sum of money this year and need a tax deduction for it, because my Federal student loan is coming due in May (thank you COVID for the two year reprieve!) and I really don't want to pay IT (which is worse?) I've decided to apply for school.  Our unit manager sent an email that caught my eye this time.  It isn't the first time I've seen this type of email, but this time just seemed right. UNC has an arrangement with this university to offer courses at a 10% discount, and a monthly payment plan, for a Master's degree in 24 months.  Yes, folks, I am going to head for the higher hills and become a Family Nurse Practitioner!  

I can't explain it because I never thought I would give up bedside nursing.  And because I've never had a good feeling about NP's.  Most of those I've come across act as if their shit doesn't stink.  Well guess what?  It's time to change that misconception.  It's time for me to grow up.  And yes, it will be time for me to leave the night shift for a more "normal" position, where I can continue to be the best nurse I can to as many as I can.  I'll also have a blast adding to my website and book - newer and more improved edition.  A second edition perhaps?  

How much more can I handle?  Why not?  Bring it on.

(Update: 3/21/22 - I did NOT ride my bike to the doctor's office.  It was 4 miles one way BUT it was raining.  I think I could have made the ride but with the construction it would have been scary. Just not happening in the rain.  Took the ol' tired Blue.  She did me good one more time.)

Yes, folks.  I did it. Escaped the "asylum" of the Behavioral Health unit and those that made it difficult for me to remain there as a happy nurse.  Today I started on "2nd Brightleaf", a medical floor with patients that require the real nursing I am accustomed to.

Busy week, busy brain, however fingers not as busy as I'd like them.  Trying to get the house/yard perfect for the visiting guests in 10 days seems like I'm going backward. I know I should just expect this internal anxiety because I've been this way forever.  The skellies are coming along nicely, although it's alot of brain work.  The setup itself takes almost no time at all but.  

I got my diploma in the mail, after 10 years! I was thrilled to see it come in the mail.  It's now framed and on my wall.

This is night number four for this week, but only the first of three.  It did not start out well.  Some attitudes are just pitiful, but it is ME who needs to change how I feel about them.  

Spoke to D. Mehring, PA this week in a video chat.  He says I should be cautious of what I put in this blog and what I allow to "go live".  I just wish there was a way to have a few pages private.  I'll look into it.  But a blog, from my perspective, should be no holds barred, filter free.  After all, where else can I be myself?  More later. 

RRROOOAAARRR!  

Hello blog.  The day/night is getting better.  However it started beastly this morning.  Thankful to some of my coworkers - the SO's in particular, for helping me get through alot of it.  We're only close because for the last three nights, I have been sitting in the Triage unit with mostly sleeping patients, and they have to sit here with us, in two hour stretches at a time.  To keep their eyes from closing, they like to engage in conversations. Some are theoretical.  Some are car related.  Some are children related.  Some are just pure bullshit.  Better yet, during some of our conversations we challenge each other to knowledge building, confidence building, pursuits of health.  Rarely is there a quiet moment, unless they just want to listen to their music, watch a movie on their phones, or I need to work.

Last night, one of them sent me a message to me telling me that I needed to put air in my tires, even as so far as to tell me where the nearest free air pump was.  Part of his message was "we don't want to see you on the side of the road."  So, after my hellacious morning with a non-compliant, rude, aggressive patient, I drove to the free air station and filled up both my tires and my tank.  Then I headed to McDonald's for breakfast for myself and the girls.  Yeah, it was one of those mornings.  

I really appreciated the thoughtfulness of the SO.  They always say they have my back and won't let anything happen to me.  

However......While I was in the drive through at McDonalds, the engine of my Nissan Cube started to overheat.  That was a first.  It's never had an issue like this before.  Damn.  It's 16 miles home.

About 3/4 of the way the ol' girl decided it was time to stop.  Whether I wanted her to or not.  WTF.  I'm tired.  The patient I had last night and this morning stressed me out. Unexplainably bad.  I didn't need this.

On top of that, my wonderful fairly new Samsung smart phone decided it's battery was going to die.  The only way I had to call for help was my Samsung smart watch, and it's battery was near death. 

I was able to contact 911 Johnston County and they called the Highway Patrol, who said they'd be by to help.  Thankfully I was also able to figure out the number to Triple A, and called them as well, giving them my directions and to let them know soon I would be without my electronic devices, to just please send someone.  This was at approx 0810.  It would be some time before now and 0925.  

To make a long story a little shorter, no Highway Patrol.  At 0930 my anxiety has hit an all time high.  I've already been crying as I now have no way of contacting anyone.  Calls placed to Brenda and Sabina, and messages sent to others have gone unanswsered.  Even if they got the messages now, it wouldn't do any good.  I have exploded with rage, I'm sure the ravens above me knew.  I sort of hoped that I'd just be sideswiped by a Mack truck and it'd all be over.  After all, that's the way I've always said I'd like to go.

I'd paced the side of the road.  Seen every bit of evidence from the cars that have hit the guard rails.  Stepped on all the ant hills.  Even thanked the two gentlemen who stopped to see if they could help me, thinking I had help on the way.

At 1000, another vehicle pulls up.  Certainly not HP, certainly not AAA.  However, even better.  This gentleman stopped, and came up to me to see if I was alright.  When I told him I was, he could clearly see I was not.  I told him my dilmma.  Help had not arrived as promised.

Lo and behold, he lives close to where I do.  Better yet, he also owns a tow truck company!  He made one call, and scheduled to have a truck out shortly.  In the meantime, he offered to take me home.  Lifesaver.  The man's wife and son were in the vehicle, and the missus even made a space for me in the front seat.  Made my day so much better.  

But the headache.  

Back at the house the girls welcomed me with open paws.  They knew something was wrong, so I got extra kisses.  They also knew there was something waiting for them in a paper bag. While they are so active at this time of the morning, having them greet me like that was wonderful today. 

I think the sandman came to me for good at about 1230, and I had to work in 6 hours.  Ugh. My eyes were so red and swollen.

After sleep, after shower, and after feeding the dogs, another shift awaited me.  

While I took the Mustang tonight to work, I arrived to find the same agitated, asshole patient.  I'm sorry.  Call me an asshole nurse, but tonight I don't care.  I don't have time for non-compliant, asshole patients who have no business being in this unit.  Jail is more suitable. 

I brought my klonopin this shift. I may need to go get it.

(March 21, 2022 - The old girl hasn't been the same since.  To this day she remains in the "hospice unit" of the garage.  She starts, and two weeks ago got me 4 miles to my doctor's appointment although she didn't feel good about doing so.  In approximately 2 weeks, she will see the light.  Don't tell her!)

It's Friday night and I'm sitting in the ED Triage unit alone with one Covid-19+ patient. This really pales in comparison to what other nurses are doing, because MY patient is asymptomatic. Because he is a behavioral health crisis patient he must be separated from the rest of the ED so this is where we keep them. He just gets to hang out in his room, with a bed, a tray table, and whatever we give him. No TV, no personal items, no windows looking outside. The room is probably smaller, if not the same size, as a prison cell. Except no bathroom or running water. He has to come out to the unit to use the bathroom.

Security officers sit here for two-hour stays at a time before rotating out. They'd been here most of the night (it's actually 9/25 at 0230am) but got bored and really, with one sleeping patient, what's the point? The emergency room is hopping tonight, they go where they are needed. And I certainly don't need someone here either staring at me, talking to me, or falling asleep. Yeah, talking is ok, but after a while, I just want to say "can we just be quiet now?" But I don't. I'm as polite as can be, and they think I'm pretty cool and probably look forward to the nights when I'm working because we talk about anything and everything and usually laugh alot.

Anyway....I found out that my Bachelor's Degree diploma is being mailed, FINALLY, after a 10 year fiasco. Yes! You graduated....Let's celebrate. Oh, wait. You really should take these last two elective classes in Humanities. Bad thing is there is no more student funding to give you, and each class is $2,500. I've been battling with them over two stupid classes ever since. They FINALLY used my credits from my Humanites courses from 1981! HA! Shame on them. I actually tried to take a couple DIY courses - Ethics in America (ironic) and World Religion. These are TOUGH classes! But if I needed ELECTIVES, why didn't I get to pick - or elect - what I wanted to take. A few years ago I filed an appeal because of this bullshit. Apparently the University of Phoenix is known for this type of baiting. Let's get you in, get all the funds we can possibly squeeze from the government, let you party a little, then fuck you for some more money for bullshit. Sorry for the foul bombs. I received an email that even gave me a tracking number for the diploma, which I will buy an expensive frame for, and finally hang proudly in my house.

Tonight I bought some fun singing pumpkins for halloween, and some halloween candy from Amazon. I got cool candy, tho. Wax lips and day of the dead ring pops. All I can say is I hope kids visit. Brenda will kill me, since I'm saving for my Bronco. But, I got an Amazon credit card so it cost me nothing. And since I don't have any credit card debt, I can just put the card away with the others.

What else. . . Since this website is a day in the life of THIS nurse, I changed the title from "A Nurse's Every Day Stories" to "One Nurse's Every Day Stories". No two nurses are alike, and I want this to eventually be a book, so I want it to be uniquely about THIS nurse. I'm not perfect, I'm not even exciting anymore. I should have started this when I was. Well, I did take notes. Earlier in the week I came up with an idea for another section, which will become a chapter. It will be called, "My Contributions". There will be nothing in it written by me. Instead, I am going to ask friends, fellow classmates, and fellow coworkers past and present to write something to contribute. Some way that I may have affected their lives, to help them "lead the way", because that is what I want to be known as when I become just a memory. What is hard about this journaling is that I'm not sure if I need to protect others be being careful about what I am writing about.

My children, for instance. I love them very much and will always have opinions, good or bad, and will always be frustrated by some of their actions. But here's the thing. The actions are THEIRS, and theirs alone, and frustration is just a feeling. So why do I have it? I have to let them be grown, as they were little for me long enough. Some people don't have it as good as I do. Yes, I miss them and my heart hurts by it, but I am glad I don't have to continue raising them, or raising their children or pets or whatever as some parents and grandparents with adult children do. My girls have never been to jail, aren't crackheads, but super active, super smart, married (I think - Molly) girls who are working very hard in this life. I must be grateful for that. They drive nice cars, live in nice, clean houses, and have responsible jobs and husbands. They even have college degrees. Do I wish they were richer? Do I wish they had husbands who were nicer? Do I wish I could see them every other weekend and go shopping and to lunch and to laugh? Absolutely. But that's not who they are, apparently. And that must be ok. Enough about that.  What I meant to say here tho is that I don't want them to read anything that would hurt them, or embarrass me!

So this nurse was just of for two days. I need to do lots of things at home. On these last two days, I was to have a handyman come and put up cabinets in my laundry room. He half painted it, left the spackling, and didn't come back to sand and repaint. During our last conversation, I asked him to come Thursday, as the cabinets had not all arrived, and I hadn't started putting them together. It's been a week and a half of day on/day off working and impossible to do. Then he called and asked if he could come Wednesday morning because it was supposed to rain, and he doesn't "like to work outside in the rain" at whatever he was going to do. Sigh.

But, regardless of what anyone else thinks about me, I am a team player. Sure, but I need to sleep first as I worked Tuesday night. He said he'd let me know Wednesday morning whether he was going to come or not. I got home. I waited. And waited. I fed the dogs, made coffee, and got to work. I got all four cabinets together within a few hours time, all without a call or text. I was getting grumpy. I started sanding. And painting. By 1:30, I was ready to go to bed. Seven minutes later I got a text that said "see you at two." "I'm going to bed now,  two won't work. I thought I'd hear from you this morning and I've waited up, even put the cabinets together and sanded the spackling." Now to his credit, I did tell him I needed to sleep until at least two. But that is when said he'd let me know in the morning what he was going to do. I get grumpy when I'm tired, and I get even grumpier when people tell me they are going to do something and don't. Plus he did a fairly crappy job at painting. I guess I assume he's professional. Not really, just a guy with a magnet on his truck that does handy work for people like me. I hadn't been impressed with some of his other work. But I have to let someone help me. I pay what they ask, so it's not always about money. Then, the next day, I got up early and painted the sanded wall areas, and put two cabinets up. It took alot of measuring, leveling, etc. to get it done, but this girl did it. I got a bit bitchy with myself and wonder why I work so hard, and why I wasn't satisfied with his help. But when I ask someone to do something I guess I expect it to be done right. I didn't tell him how I felt, so he doesn't know.

Kind of like the kids that come to help with house and yard work. I chalk it up to their lack of experience and my gentle nature to not push the issue that they aren't always doing the job completely. We forget to wash a window, we don't empty the vacuum, we don't touch the bathroom. Or we don't cut all the grass, or forget to buzz one side of the fence. And I pay them good, too. I enjoy the company for even a few minutes, even if I have to pick up the house before they come over, and have to put on a smile even if I'm tired. I'm always in a good energetic mood when they leave. I have to be grateful that they are helping me, in one form or another. And I am helping them.

I'm proud that I got two cabinets up without them falling down!

Later in the week, I'll get the other two done, so that when Brenda comes over, it will be finished. She may not even notice. I haven't told her I did it. I just want the house back in order without cabinet parts all over.

I haven't had that weird feeling again that I'm short lived, but the night before last I thought I was going to die. I'd eaten too much I think and believe I had a giant air pocket inside me that couldn't come up or out. I spent the better part of 5 hours either on the toilet, walking around trying to move the air, stretching, and taking an antacid before finally falling asleep. Even the poor dogs were researching how to call 911.  I couldn't fart or belch hard enough to get rid of the air.  Must have been the two boiled eggs, English muffin and bacon.  Or was it the big slice of carrot cake I loved so much?  Maybe downing it fast caused me to swallow air?  I don't know, but I am NOT doing that again.

I know she's 6 years older than me, but I can't remember how old I am so I don't know how old she is.  I guess that's a good thing.  Another good thing is that we are finding each other again, it's been what - 40 years? The move here was such a wonderful prize - well worth the wait.

Anyway...that's all for this post.  Thither Thathu.

As if I wasn't anxious enough, I spilled my heart out on this blog, closed it out, and it was gone.  Really?  Fuck.  At least I copied and pasted some of it.   I started out trying to express that I have had alot of anxiety lately.  I don't know if it's because I have this underlying CLC project to do that I have only been procrastinating on for the past 5 months?  Or is it the issue with work?    

Issues don't cause anxiety.  Issues are usually feelings or inanimate objects.  Or something we needlessly worry about.  I wonder how much of this I am going to remember from what was deleted.  None so far.  But since I copied and pasted, here's one paragraph:

This week I felt some weird wave of anxiety and comfort run through my chest while I was gettng groceries.  Something "told" me (no, I'm not hearing voices) that I was not going to be around much longer and this is why I am hurrying to get things in my life in order, and why i refuse to let any man into my life again.  There is one kept at a distance, and for now, that is where he has to stay.  I don't know what the feeling was about, but it was almost comforting.  Now I am scared.  I have told no one.  

Next important thing is my health.  While I have not been diagnosed with any chronic physical illness, my weight continues to depress me, yet I am the ony one in control of this weight.  I am smart, I know how to eat right, I know how to exercise, I know how to drink water, I know how to sleep.  Yet I can't get control of any of these things.  All of these things also affect my anxiety, my sleep, my work ability (only when SHE is around).  So what can I do about it?

one last topic for now is Molly.  I sent Dr. Phil a request for help.  The message box only allows for 2500 characters for your story, so i sent two.  Sure i could hire a PI as some suggest, but I don't want to just see pictures or worse.  I want this - whatever it is - fixed.

I'm going to do one life coaching example on my self.  I need a good life coach.  Any one have any ideas?

Tonight is night 2 of four.  Not three as I originally thought.  What was I thinking when I scheduled myself for FOUR in a row?  Night one was rather difficult, I felt like crap.  I guess not enough sleep, coupled with not enough of the right food to eat early in the day, on top of taking my "last meal of the day" pills....early in the evening.  What was I thinking then?  I've worked in the ED BH Holding unit for two nights in a row.  I kind of like it because I'm left alone, and no one is chit chatting about stupid shit, and I can do what I need to do then what I want.  And I try to make a difference for people who are stuck in this hallway and their windowless rooms.  The last two nights I think I have. 

But I am almost feeling like I need a change.  The staff (except for one nurse) has done all they can to make me feel uncomfortable, not speaking to me unless they need something.  Ignoring me.  What is up their asses?  Treating me like I have the plague or....whatever.  I'm being paid quite well (especially with OT) to do very little.  I'm getting bored.

I just took the trash and dirty linens to the dirty supply room.  In the room is a bed tray table.  It is not working.  There is a sign on it that I would like to have on me.  It says, "I'm broken.  Do not use."  Quite funny and fitting, actually.

It is almost 3am, only 4 hours to go.  In 5, I will be home, the dogs will have breakfast, and I'll be looking at my bed.  I think I have to start making my bed, so that it is more inviting.  And get new sheets and comforter.  A fluffy one!

I'm sure my new medication, along with the Metformin, are beginning to curb my appetite.  I hope not too much.  I have to change up what I am eating because the little amount I am eating needs to support my energy level.  I hope some of the weight falls off, then I promise myself I'm back to working out.  I've started to take the dogs for a walk, twice so far on the weekend.  Perhaps, if I'm awake enough in the morning, we'll make it three.  I have the sole responsibility to see to their health, and since they are a tad overweight like me, it's my job to see that ALL of us are cared for a little better.

This past weekend I found out my middle sister, Debbie fell and broke her hip.  Two places.  This worries me.  You see, Debbie has been battling significant health issues since our father died almost 20 years ago.  She was graced with Type 1 diabetes very late in life (in her 40's I believe), I thought right after he passed.  She lost her teeth, she's lost about half her body weight and appears frail.  She's lost her eyesight to a point that she was to have surgery on them this week.  She had to leave her job at the Doubletree restaurant after many years as a waitress, due to her disabilities.  She's had surgery on her neck - something even as a nurse I can't fathom.  Now, from what I hear, they want to send her to "rehab".  Again as a nurse, something I can't fathom.  While the medical professionals at the hospital tell patients, "you can't go home yet, you must go to rehab first", what they really are saying is "we have no room for you here, and Medicare pays for  you to spend 21 days in rehab, so let's utilize government money to let your health decline even further."  This has been my experience while both working home health and on a traditional hospital floor.  The patient MAY get up once or twice a day with a therapist, just to walk with a walker.  The rest of the time the patient is flat on his or her back.  The food is horrible, her blood sugar will be way out of range for her (she likes her levels to be elevated, the rehab will fuck her up by bringing it down to a textbook normal level), she won't be able to smoke as much as she wants to (and Debbie...wants to). 

This is going to be far from a rehabilitation for her I'm afraid.  She is a strong woman and has endured so much, but with this new temporary disability, I'm afraid she will crash.

As a nurse, I feel like I need to be there to wrap my angel wings around her and help her get up on her feet again.  However, as some know, I can be a drill sargent when it comes to having the patient be compliant, and I don't want that to come between us.  I know she will have to be on blood thinners for a while, and I don't think her frail body and skin can handle that.  

Debbie has alot of family support at home, with her doting husband Kevin to help look after her.  He himself has had a few health issues but being younger than her, I hope he is in the condition she needs to rehabilitate that hip.  She also has two adult daughters who love her and I'm sure will help.  I wish my daughters would do that for me.  However, I'm afraid I'd be the one in rehab.

My thoughts and my bedtime prayers will be strong for Debbie, our family is not ready for anything detrimental at this time.  

Now I'll hit save!  

I really dislike when I've typed something really, really good...only to have it disappear without automatically saving when I close down.  Yep, happens alot.  Guess if I'd hit the save button more often.  

Let's see if i can get this written again before the computer crashes and doesn't save my work.  Yes, it just happened.  And I was writing so well, too!

Most Americans celebrate the 4th of July in this wonderful country of ours.  Some celebrate with hot dogs, hamburgers, watermelon. pool parties and fireworks.  Some celebrate with a vacation to the beach or other body of water.  Many even celebrate the fact that it is the anniversary of the adoption of the Declaration of Independence on July 4, 1776, which declared the original colonies to be free from British rule.  

My family has always celebrated a little bit of the above - the cookouts and pool party, the fireworks.  Family and friends always came to our house.  I miss that.  Another reason for the annual get together is it is the birthday of our father, Francis "Rudy" Rudolph.  What makes him so special?  Well considering he was not born a US citizen, and is of British heritage, for one.  He came to the US as a teenage boy (so I am told).  When he was old enough, he became a naturalized citizen and joined the Army.  The best thank-you the Army could give this young man was to ship him to Germany's battle zones during WWII.  From there, and I'm not clear on the specifics, he went to England, where he met our mother, Doris Brown.  After my father proposed to her, and they were to be married, dad took a short "hiatus" from the Army, but our mother's employer would not allow her to take one.  Our grandfather even wrote a nasty letter to the editor about it.  The other cool thing about this couple, is that our mother's birthday also falls on an American holiday - November 11, or Veteran's day!  I've always told people that I am a product of a once illegal alien, and my sisters and I are the first generation Americans of our family.

Now that dad and mom are gone, however.  It is nearly a day like any other.  There won't be a pool party, I probably won't grill, and the only attendees will be one of my sisters.  We don't have any fireworks, but may sit outside on the porch like two old people, watching what the neighbors will do to light up the night sky.  Whoopee.  Happy Birthday, dad!

Sitting here at work again, now not allowed to listen to music either via headphones or just on low (not that THAT rule stops others, but it does me). It's very (i hate to use the word) quiet here.  All the patients are sleeping, and staff is all but ignoring me.  After last night's cat fight (Where the hell that came from I don't know but I'll stear clear of that monster), I'm just here to do my job.  It's already done for now, I'll have more in the morning.  So for now, I just write.

I'm going to condense all the writing I've done in books, scrap paper, even tablets of paper and journals, onto this webpage.  By paying for this website, I can at least rest assured that my words are not going to get deleted.  And now, i have my own website!  I haven't told anyone about it yet, because this....right now....is for me.  

Perhaps some day I'll get it formatted for print, too.  We'll see.  At least this is knocking one more thing off my to-do list.

Quality Care

It's not about me. Or you.  About how we feel about the patient or the company that employs you.

It's not about the unit.  The department.  Whether we are short-staffed and busy.

It's not about the hospital.  Whether they make money or have the desired patient satisfaction scores.

It's not about the community.  Yes, it takes a village.

It IS about humanity.  That's all.  It's that easy.

Do you know where the term "bon fire" got it's name?  From the Olde English term "bone fire" - where they would build a pile of old bones and burn away the shadows, "because from here on in the shadows get deeper, the nights get longer, we're headed into the dark and we have to hang on to each other, so we can only carry so much". 

They'd build "bone fires" this time of year (autumn) and talk about the people they lost, toss in offerings to drive away evil spirits (mostly old bones).

Well, well.  Random thoughts at this moment can't really be written - the work ones at least.  I'm easily edgy with all the chatter going on.  Good thing I have headphones on.  Or close by.

You see, even though there is a place and to write random thoughts, sometime swe must be cognizant of the random thoughts we put to print especially if we are going to publish the random thoughts - today we have to almost write, and speak in broken language.  

Michigan Institute of Technology just came out with a list of their idea of appropriate verbiage - words that perhaps Americans should avoid using words that may be oppressive.  "The student-centered resource plays into absolutely every stereotype you might have about hypersensitive, self-preening progressives who are offended by everything but claim to be brave enough to fight for the marginalized", conservative pundit Jason Rantz wrote for Newsweek.  Some have reported that the list is "an all out assault on our First Amendment and an example of the far left cancel culture that is happening in our schools".  

Words like 'picnic', 'brown bag', 'trigger', 'rule of thumb' and 'killing it' are among the long list of potentially 'violence related words.  Here's the randomness that may be offensive: are you fucking kidding me?  One day, the English language will just be called language.  "which language do you speak?".... 

I remember back in 2003, after Desert Storm, Arizona lost a female soldier. The first American Indian woman to die in combat while serving in the U.S. military. Then in 2008, The US Board on Geographic Names voted to rename a very prominent Phoenix hiking mountain - previously called 'Squaw Peak' - after Miss Piestewa, to honor the first American Indian woman to die in combat while serving in the US Military.

The controversy over renaming the mountain led to a nasty fight between Democratic Gov. Janet Napolitano and the Republican-led Legislature. Napolitano argued that changing the name of the landmark would be an appropriate tribute to Piestewa while removing the word “squaw.” Although some linguists disagree, critics say “squaw” is derived from an Indian word for female genitalia.

I think this was the first time I'd heard about people "finally" complaining about words that have been used in the English language for decades and even centuries.  Since then so many things have changed.  First it was ball teams (Washington Redskins are now just Washington).  Now it has gone from renaming schools to renaming food brands (Aunt Jemima pancake mix to Uncle Bens wild rice). 

Do you know what I find more racist than any of this?  All of it. When will PETA come in and force the change of teams because of the animal analogy.  The more we point out our differences, the more of them there are.

This morning, upon the closing of my first of two nights back to work...I'm feeling a bit agitated and anxious.  Probably because of the 3 or so hours of sleep I got yesterday afternoon.  Going to sleep the night before at 9, sleeping til 230 and awake until after noon didn't help matters.  I know, I know...I should have been asleep long before.  Duh.  But what does a person to do?  Perhaps I should have stayed awake.  I don't feel sleepy, hope I get that way when I get home.  Rant, I know.  But shit, at least I'm not the one working here who has decided to disappear for a few hours doing who knows what.  Snoring I suspect.

It's all good, I know what my job is and what it's worth, and what I am worth.  So, I just stay to myself and put my headphones on.  The idle chatter really gets to me sometimes when I am trying to work and others seem to have an hour at a time to chat about nothing.

Tonight I drew out a potential deck to try to build in the back yard.  How did I go from chair swings and a fire pit to a deck?  Might be a nice addition, including planting trees around it.  I'm sure the dogs would like it.  Seems my initial calculation for the supplies is about $750.  Shoot, if I hadn't needed that much for another expense (totally my fault), I'd buy it all tomorrow.  I'm sure to have someone else put it up for me would be in the thousands.  I don't want to do that.  I want the self satisfaction that i can do it myself.  And that I may not even need anyone's help...but better ask. 

Wind Beneath My Wings - Bette Midler, is playing on Spotify.  That was the song my father played at my mom's funeral.  Gut wrenching.  That was in 1995.  Then in 2006, my college graduating class decided to play it while we were entering the auditorium.  Another reason to make the sister's cry.  It was the theme song from The Rose, a tear jerking movie.  Yes, that was random. 

I'm on night #3, only a handful of hours left.  My duties are done for now.  We're awaiting 4 possible admissions to the UNC Behavioral Unit, and if that happens, we will be opening another portion of the unit, one that is attached to the emergency room.  They do that as a "holding" unit (our real holding unit is also full) until discharges happen on the main floor, or they are awaiting transfer to another facility.  That happens when minors come here.  They are not placed with the adults and we do not provide care for the kids.  Sometimes I thank goodness we don't, and in other ways I miss them, but the adults for the most part, 99% of the time, are not violent in any way.  It can happen, and we are staffed and trained for it, but fortunately it doesn't happen often.  And I don't feel as sorry for the adults as I do the children.  The children are young products of their environment forced into things they do not understand, often with behavioral disabilities they cannot control.  So rather than try to 'fix' the behaviors, most of the time they are medicated and housed in facilities and group homes.  The adults, while still products of their environment, have almost chosen to be here.  Except for those that are truly and seriously mentally disabled, there are drunks, addicts, schizophrenics that refuse their medications, even homeless who are cold and hungry - all they have to say is "I'm suicidal" or "I see things".  Many times the homeless ARE part of the above described also.  Having had personal experience with an inpatient facility, I feel comfortable with some of the patients.  Then there are some who come back monthly after their group home kicks them out and keep their disability check.  OK enough of that.

I am going to try to fill this blog with interesting things, however it is always good to write to vent, to alleviate stress, etc.  So, although this web site is supposed to be light, informative, funny, sad material, I'm saving a page or two just for me.

I think I have to purchase the "Pro" package in order to get the ultimately cool stuff.

_____________________________________________________________

ok so now i think i have to have "subpages" to this one, or put the date in every time i want to write, but it would be a long running script.  Hey, i'm learning.

No subpage, no long running script (I just made that up, ya know).

This evening as I sat down to write, to add stuff to my site, I couldn't think of anything.  So, I reached out to my facebook friends. I want to dig into their brains for some fodder.  We shall see tomorrow what they share.  From health care comrades to non-health care comrades.  

Here is how random my brain is at the moment.  One of the projects I have in mind at home is re-modeling of sorts, the laundry room.  It isn't big, but is a nice room with tall ceilings.  I've seen on my favorite-ist web site 'Pinterest' some really clever things.  I definitely want to install cabinets above the washer and dryer, and put a few wood shelves up between them.  Currently 3/4 of the room has the plastic-coated metal shelving with the ability to hang clothes.  I love the shelving, for the ability to put stuff since I lack enough closets for my crap.  I'd also like to put up a full length cabinet to house the items on the wall that has multiple shelves.  I'd like to clean it up and hide stuff. 

My current dilemma is this....how do I hang the cabinets?  I only have my sister and my neighbor (whom I do stuff for), and that is pretty much a weak link.  No offense, sis, but you aren't very tall.  I will need you there as my gopher.  But how can I get the cabinets attached to the wall when they may be heavy?  I will NOT even try to hire someone as I am still burned over the 'pintura' man right now for making me paint my own house (which by the way I am not satisfied with my own work..uugh).  I wonder if a Home Depot employee would have ideas.  Hey, maybe Pinterest or my second favorite go-to manual, YouTube will have ideas!  The rest of the  house is nicely, warmly decorated (for a cheap ass person I am) and the poor laundry room, which houses two beautiful appliances, sits bland. Hmm.

Before I can do THAT, I must finish spreading the topsoil.  I never knew what topsoil was apparently, because I ordered, paid for and had delivered a shit ton of dirt.  Yes, dirt.  Only it wasn't A ton of dirt, but 7.  That's fourteen THOUSAND pounds.  And it's damn summer.  I had no idea either what 6 yards was, and all I wanted was some soil to cover the bald areas I seeded in the front yard. I've even given some away.  It's been there so long that there is a mound of grass covered top-soil in my front yard, probably causing an even bigger bald spot.  So, I must finish ONE home improvement project at a time.  

I also have to finish painting the porch floor.  That should be done soon.  I've hired a few kids to help me with some of the stuff around the house, and they are looking forward to this one.

So, until those are done, the laundry room will remain bland.

Random thought...I want my ice cream that is in our freezer here.  But I have a stomach ache from the little bit of healthy dinner i had a while ago.  THAT is a topic for another random conversation.  So, no ice cream for now.

TTFN

Yeah, I probably should have just shut up early this morning when confiding in a coworker that the stress level in the SBC unit 600 (adolescent boys) among staff has increased over the last several weeks.  In turn, it boils over into the care of the children.  Then they react as well.  I only want the boys to receive "optimal care to ensure a safe and productive treatment environment".  What I should NOT have done is trust the recipient of my vent.  It's only caused more tension.  But Jackie (the creator of said stress) fails to see how much tension she brings to the hall at nightis affecting those around her, including me.  After all she's been "doing this job for 30 years" (quoting her, and note she job hops frequently, she's been at this facility less than I have, she is older than me, and has no intention of bettering herself).  Uhhhh, can we say "burn out"?  I did not stand up for myself or the boys like I should have.

I will chalk this up to experience and the need to "T.H.I.N.K."  I, too, have alot going on, the least of which is this job.This job is a matter of losing sleep, to come to the job - listen to kids disrespect the adults, the adults raise their voices for three hours, then sit on my ass for the remaining nine hours.  Oh, boy.  Quite a challenge.

How is this supposed to fit in with my book writing?  It's about doing your best where an when you can - no matter how boring, or how unchallenged you are.  However, it's also about NOT settling fo the boring and unchallenged, but searching for your better self.  Not letting those around you bring you down to their level.  

One thing I try to reiterate to the boys on unit 600 is to ignore verbal disagreements among their peers.To walk away. To, as I even tell the dogs, "pay no mind".  This is what I need to do.

In this writing, I have another dilemma.  Before I was down to caring for 6 patients on this particular unit, I had 8.  One of these boys, JF was here for minimal behavior issues, but because he didn't have a home to go to, he floats from place to place.  This is just one of those stops.  He'd been doing really good on our unit. One night he asked me to repair a new (and costly, bought for him by his guardian) tshirt that was badly damaged by our hospital washing machine.  The shirt seemed too far gone, so I looked to HR to find out if another could be purchased.  "Go ahead, we will reimburse you", was the answer I received.  After searching unsuccessfully for the same shirt, I found something for $25.00.  No problem.  I would buy and SBC would reimburse.  That was not meant to be.  This shirt suddenly became "unavailable".  Search and search.  I found anouther.  Only twice as much.  Whatever.  The kid is good.  Worth having to pay a few extra bucks.  I bought it, eagerly anticipating its arrival and surprising him with it. 

However, one evening as I start my shift I learn that this boy, and another were moved to the adjoining unit - for reasons unknown.  JF was uprooted from his own room to now having to share one with a thug.  That day, JF had already been involved in a bad fight, and upon our arrival, decided to kick open the doors, kick the steel unit doors, and have a boxing match with the unbreakable plexiglass windows, hurting his hand.  He was angry because he wanted to stay in that unit (wtf?) instead of going back to his own room and peers where he had been for 4 months.  Compared to where is is now, the other is peaceful and mostly calm.  Then he punched the window to the nurses station, causing the entire window to come out of its frame.  Oh, and should I add this unit is on quarantine for Covid-19 (double wtf).  

I'm getting to the dilemma.  Part of it is my own doing.  Since that night, we have not spoken.  He avoids eye contact at all cost.  And he is just as much a thug as his new roomie.  Now I have a $60.00 tshirt that I've yet to be reimbursed for, that I don't really feel like giving to JF because of his behavior.  Incidentally, I DID end up fixing his torn shirt, and he is wearing it.  I don't want to reward his bad behavior.  And do I want to pull out $30.00 of my own money for the price of this disrespect?  (The hospital administrators won't pay more than $30.00)  Bt something is bothering me, telling me I should do the right thing.  But what is it exactly?  What have I learned in my ethics class?  I don't get it.  For now, the unopened package remains with me.

**Update:  As of February 10, 2021 I left SBC, and still had the shirt.  It's now June 2021, and I gave the tshirt away as a gift to another 16-year old boy who mows my lawn.  I don't know if it fit him, if not he said he had a brother who would wear it.  I don't care, it's not sitting on the desk reminding me every day about the boy who just couldn't behave.  I was truly heartbroken to see his behavior change so badly so quickly. 

It's July 12 as I am typing this, however the contents comes from a journal entry from January.  There have been 6 months between putting pen to paper and fingers to keyboard.  I'm going to type verbatim, then add more current thoughts.

What is the point of this "adult dating site" everyone seems to be on?  Yes, as an adult female, fairly successful and mostly happy, I too am lonely.  However, the stress, the extra work that is added to the every day activities, seems to take away from my feeling of success as well as my happiness.  Continuously telling the same story, in hopes that someone will tell me their (truthful) story, in hopes that we find, as someone recently stated, a "mate".  Yes, I would like to fall in love again.  But my history dictates my apparent failures.  I don't want to work so hard at finding one.  The bottom feeders that seem to converge on me are 99% fake.  Apparently even "Kenny Chesney" has a free profile.  RIIIIGGHT.

I want to meet someone the "natural" way.  By their eyes.  By their smiles.  By the natural way.  That's it.  For me the dating app scene is gone.  That's how I met the last two long-term relationships that failed, as well as several "dates" that really sucked.  Especially the last one this week. 

(I must interrupt with a funny - as I'm typing this, Freddie Mercury comes on my play list with....ready for this..."Somebody to love!")

"Back in the day, England fucked the Scottish; Now it's time for the Scottish to fuck the English." First date talk, 

(This is the end of the journal entry, apparently not finished, as it ended with a comma.  Now, let's expand on this stuff.)

The dating sites are like fishing.  You go to a lake, you know you want a fish.  In fact, one site is called "Plenty of Fish".  You catch a fish, but it's not big enough, pretty enough, or tasty enough, and it doesn't fit your wants and needs, so you throw it back.  I think Plenty of Fish is like that.  They are all throwbacks.  Facebook also has a new dating site.  It's almost comical the stuff you see.  

First of all, it's almost easy to spot the fake profiles.  There is something about the pictures.  Brighter, shinier, what the male is wearing, etc. Oh, and more often than not, they work on an oil rig somewhere, or are a pilot or doctor.  Like any pilot or doctor would have to expose themselves on a free dating site.  And they all wear something around their neck.  I don't get it.  A scarf or something.

If you dare strike up a conversation with these fake profile people, you  can pick them out again.  Within the first 5 minutes they are using terms of endearment.  "Honey", "Sweetie", "Babe" and they want to be the one and only.  And they love your profile picture.  Even if it's not a real picture, or a picture of a dog.  They still love your smile. If they happen to get past the first few minutes and continue the conversation for a few days, you find small red flags.  Suddenly their grammar changes.  They can't answer simple questions about where they claim they are from.  Meanwhile, you've (hopefully not) spilled your guts about everything about you. I'd learned to make shit up.  That was the fun part.  "Send me your picture."  Ok, here's Christy Brinkley.  Or Roseanne Barr.  I've tried to report the profiles.  I think if all of them were reported and removed, the sites would have no one left.  These are known to be pirates, scammers looking to prey on people that have no brains but a little money, that will be happy to send them some.

I refuse to pay for a site where I might be faced with the same thing.  I also don't want to pay to find someone anyway.  I want someone to pay for me.  Even if a guy's profile is real, what he's written about himself is not necessarily true.  It's what every woman wants to hear.  And if they were the type of person they have described themselves as, they wouldn't need to be on a dating site.  

A few things that irritate me are the guys who show off their cars, their motorcycles, their boats, their bodies at the gym.  Then there are the ones that post pictures with children.  Shame on them if they are their own children.  Double shame on them if the children are grandchildren.  If you find someone you really like, and really likes you, the cars, the boats, the motorcycles and the children, are perks that you get to know later on.  They certainly don't spark my fancy.  Hell, as recent history showed, the more shit they take their pictures with, the more narcissistic they are.  I totally shy away from them.  Not interested in any way there.  Those pictures scream, "LOOK AT ME!!!", and that's a total turn off.

I went on a few dates with a guy who happened to be local, and was also a nurse.  A hospice nurse at that.  For real.  I thought it would give me an interesting perspective of nursing from a guy.  Why not, I gave it a shot.  One of the worst.  He wasn't great looking.  But he was funny.  Had a degree, had to to be a hospice nurse.  But where his caring bone was, I didn't really see it.  He made sure he tried to make you laugh with something he thought was funny.  Our dates consisted of a Mexican restaurant, where he only ate fajitas.  Then we'd go to the dirtbike track where I'd get the "pleasure" of watching him unload, get dressed, and hit the track for a while.  And, if I so desired, took pictures of him, following him around like a puppy.  Sorry.  I offered to cook breakfast, he didn't eat it.  But, he'd bring HIS OWN lunch.  There were several red flags.  His house, while not messy inside, was in several stages of construction and the bathroom sink must have had 10 years of soap scum and toothpast in the sink.  The kitchen was impeccable, so i didn't understand.  His garage was the same, but don't dare touch anything.  I'd been there, done that.  The last straw was on my birthday.  He knew from a previous conversation that I liked a nice t-bone steak.  So this night, he said, "tonight I'm taking you to get a t-bone".  He was exactly right. He took me there.  I got MY t-bone.  And his.  Yep.  On occasion I'd pay for dinners just to feel better.  Apparently since "you make more money than me", it was MY turn to buy.  On MY birthday!  Wow.  PS, in the few times he came by my house, Sophie didn't like him.  And vice versa.  Also a big red flag.

Dating sites suck.

For now, I'm going to just breathe, and enjoy not having to be insulted, dragged around to do stupid stuff, pretend I'm happy, when I'm really happiest in my home, doing my crafts, hanging out with my dogs, my sister, my neighbors, and the one or two female friends I've made since moving here.  They are nurses too, in different areas of medicine, and it's fun sharing stories.  Guess what?  They aren't nursing stories!  Yes, I'm lonely as hell in the intimate way.  But.  For now.

**UPDATE: Just as mentioned above.  The following information was posted in our local on-line news paper tonight, July 12, 2021.

"CLAYTON – A Johnston County woman looking for love ended up being manipulated out of her home and money in a romance scam. In October 2020, the 47 year-old woman said she met a man on a dating website. The man claimed he had recently left the US military overseas and didn’t have money to return to the United States.. Even though they had never met, the scammer quickly professed his love for the woman and within several weeks had made plans to marry. But he told her there was one problem. The scammer claimed that after he left the US military, he had been staying at motels in Iraq where he had been stationed. He claimed he needed money to take care of some expenses before he could travel to the United States and Johnston County where he would marry the victim. Unfortunately, the victim fell for the scam. She sold her home and converted the $83,000 in equity to Bitcoins. She then transferred the money to the man with one request. Let her know when the money arrived. The scammer emailed her with the money arrived. She never heard from him again. Scammers frequently use dating sites to meet their victims. Be suspicious of anyone who claims to need money for emergencies, bills or travel. Scammers often plan a visit but cancel due to an emergency. They also ask for short-term loans or payment for a plane or train ticket to travel to meet. According to the FBI, scammers will search for details about you on social media and dating sites to better understand and target you. Research the person’s photo and profile using online searches to see if the image and name have been used elsewhere. Go slow and ask a lot of questions. If the individual seems too perfect, gives excuses for weeks or months why they can’t meet in person, or asked for money, beware. In this case, the local woman lost her home and $83,000 to the scammer. Authorities are now investigating but it’s unlikely the suspect, who is most likely overseas, can ever be identified and located."

Ummmm....see? Fuckers.

I can't believe I found this writing in a journal, but here it goes.....

December 14 (no year indicated)

"Well I did something.  I actually accepted an offer from a now chief of police (of a small town in Alabama), to 'spend some time together'. Something attracts me to him.  Not sure what it is.  He seems like a tough nut to crack.  But he likes me, wants to possess me."

Hmm. That was interesting, and somewhat short lived.  Seems that he wanted to possess me but left me hangin.  Would only see me on HIS schedule, his terms.  And of course I caved.  For attention.  We met a few times, at a local place where he did some side work.  I'd see him for a bit, we'd have sex. He'd leave.  I'd leave.  Call ya later.  Oops, I forgot to mention to him that I moved to North Carolina and changed my phone number.  He really wasn't all that exciting.  And, per my stupid, usual, fucked up way of thinking, he was - and is - married. But that's good, I didn't want to be possessed, anyway.  He even wanted me to tattoo his name somewhere on my body, for anyone else to see!  It's now been over a year and a half.  He'd be proud to know no one else HAS seen my body.

Anyway, I can scratch this off my journal page.  I don't want to forget him.  He and I had some business dealings, too, so we had shared a different bond, too.  

"Dogs Eye View or Temple of the dog. <-- this is what the new property will be>

"I have a new found belief that I was meant to do great things."

"Let's look for a house.  Lease option?  Near hospital?  <-- who>

and the best part yet:

"GTFO Alabama"!  

(I don't think at this point in my writing I knew what I was going to do, but when I did - it happened almost magically!)