Why Nurses Deserve More Vacation Time

"I found my scab that fell of a few days ago on the couch. I saved it for you. Do you want me to bring it in?"

"I just took some viagra. You better watch yourself."

"I'm only coming to get my shots if you're here."

PT:"I want three separate prescriptions for the same drug."
RN: "For the same med?
PT: "Yes."
RN:"That's the stupidest thing I've ever heard. It makes absolutely no sense. How many and what drugs did you take this morning?" (so maybe that's what was said...aloud)
RN: (for real) "Why do you need three copies of the same perscription. This is for the exact same med, right."
PT:"Three?! I don't need three. I already have one. I only need two more."
RN: "For the same med?"
PT: "YES! I'm trying to choose between three different pharmacies and that way I will have a prescription for each one."
RN"I see. Is there any way that you could call the pharmacies, see which one is least expensive and take the prescription you already have to the one you decide on?"
PT:"Well, I suppose I could but that's going to take a lot of time and looking things up and stuff."
RN:"Aren't you going to call them to see which one is least expensive before you take the prescription into any of them anyway?"
PT:"Yes, but this way I'll have a prescription for each one so that when I decide I'll have the prescription already."
RN: ......*slamming head on desk*.....repeatedly.

WHY WE PUT UP WITH IT ALL:

"Thank you-
For always having a smile for us
For always being positive
Fo always being encouraging-

"We know we are here for another couple of years but wanted to acknowlegde all you do and have done-
"Thank you for agreeing that:
"'Bold is beautiful, Powerful
and we can wear it with PRIDE!'"

"We hope that maybe this photo [photo was of pt and spouse at a formal event, bald and beautiful with a huge smile, with magnets on the back to put up in the office] encourage someone else that is going bald that
"Yes we can!
"All our thanks,
-name with held"

Validation

I remember reading somewhere once (excuse the lack of reference) that one should, "never mistake stupidity for malice".

This is true. With a few exceptions, most people may do hurtful things or cause you grief but chances are it was more out stupidy than just outright malice. I admit, some people are just nasty and do unexplainable things just to be mean (I work with one of them). But for the most part I don't think the mean things people do are not intended to hurt. In fact i think they hardly notice the hurtee at all. It's a lapse in thought and concern for others.... a.k.a. stupidness.

I am one who has been let down frequently in life. Perhaps, by much of my own doing. I expect too much and expect people to follow through on their actions or at least own whatever it is. I guess I just expect carma to have a much faster turn around time that it seems too. (Although, in many cases I am extrememly happy to report that I don't always get what I probably deserve-take that however you'd like, it's true both ways :).)

This next thought has come up a few times in life recently. One of those things you always agree with but never take to write it down or fully finish the thought aloud, so here goes: Most things can be fixed if one will simply "own it". As evidenced in one of my all time FAV-OR-ITE movies, P.S. I Love You. Selfishness and thoughtlessness is immediately forgiven when a woman's best friend, who was supposed to be the maid of honor, but has been MIA, is told how selfish she was and how she couldn't handle not being the center of attention. When said supposed-to-be maid of honor looks sheepishly at the bride-to-be and admits, "You're right. I'm sorry." Sobs, acceptance, forgiveness...yada, yada, yada...and scene. Think of it also in the basics of repentance. The whole process starts with, "I did it" or "I didn't do it." Whether to a best friend, a stranger on the street, or God himself, it all starts with owning it. Anyway, that's a thought that went in a different direction than I thought it would, so as in many blog entries, and not just my own....I digress.

...I've always had this obnoxious chipper side and "cynical optomitic", but optomistic, nonetheless, outlook on life. I must admit now that it has been severely tarnished as of late. But underneath it all a ray a light still lurks. I think one of the reasons the rust hurts so much is that I know the truth. I know that a kind word turneth away wrath, the truth will set me free, and that character will always bring one more power and strength than any man-made replacement. The sting comes when I fail to live my life in align with these truths. It stings. And every time I fail, I lose faith in myself and my ability to do so. They say the road to Hell is paved with good intentions. Some times I feel like I've paved a 8 lane freeway! So I hope by posting this little link a chink will be made in our oxidized armour, that a trickle of that light will shine though and chip off someone else's crusty outter layer.

Digressing...........................................................
and we're back.

Dispite my whining and my past, present, and future pains, I have undoubtly lived, a comparably, charmed life. My point is this: most people who hurt us don't do it on purpose, they're just being stupid and we get caught in the crossfire. They are human, so are we. And I'd like to think of us as just stupid sometimes than horribly malicious despite recent news reports of ugliness. These are out there but hopefully, the grossly extreme, and not the norm. For the most part we're all just bumbling along doing our best, even if our best sucks.

This whole thing started off as an opportunity to post this, which I found on a friend's blog:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Cbk980jV7Ao

I just thought I should write a little something to go along with it and the above spew came out. (I've found it best that if my blog is ever to be updated to not edit or think about what I'm writing. If I do it never gets updated or posted. Oh, you've noticed? Specifically Dad :) who's been asking for an update. I'm really good at this tangent thing, no?)

We all need validated, especially the crustiest of us all. We all feel that we have the world on our shoulders, which I guess, in a way, we all kinda do have our own entire world on our shoulders. I believe that the weight of that world becomes much less recognizable when we stand up straight enough to look out of our universe and recognize the work and effort that goes into another's world. Not to mention his/her ability to hold it up. Now just to stop paving and start skipping, progressly down the path that goes in the opposite direction from where that freeway was headed.

Before I stay up too much later or before the tangent monster explodes again I summize in the concise and profound words from two of the most memorable men of our age:"Be Excellent To Each Other" -Bill S. Preston, Esquire and Ted "Theodore" Logan

"Don't Mention It. And They Mean It" C.S. Lewis

Not that I'm not a generally happy person, cause I believe that I am. And not that I am by any means unhappy now, but you know those kind of hugs where you are completely on the receiving end? The kind where you can completely collapse inside the arms of someone who, just for a moment, does all the thinking, all the loving, all the giving and your only job is to be entirely vulnerable and exposed and weak because the one other side of the hug, the giver, judges nothing and says nothing. And they don't try to make it better, they just make it safe it be whatever it is that you genuinely are at the heart of things in that weak moment. There is no judging, only understanding and strength you can trust in to let your weary heart and body rest on for that break in time. A hug that is never mentioned once it is over, and ideally forgotten by the giver, but has meant everything to the restored receiver. You know those kinds of hugs? Yeah, I could use one of those.

Cancer Sucks

A few quick updates.

Last (uh, two Fridays ago, I guess) Friday my mom was officially diagnosed with breast cancer. We're still awaiting details and staging. It sucks. Anyway, I kept it pretty quiet for a while. I told my room mate and one friend, Christy (Italy Christy). In her genuine and real way Christy gave condolences and asked if I wanted a distraction. Sure. Low key and simple, to stick it to the universe and all it's stupid, petty rules of mortality.

We headed to the movie theater to see Disney Pixar's "UP". I thought I it would be a safe. You know, light fluffy and no need to get all emotionally involved. Uh, great movie, not so safe :). Christy had seen it before but we both leaked a little something from our lacrimal glands. Whatev.

After the movie, to stick it to the man (the man in this case being cancer and all people every where who take themselves and life and it's silly rules too seriously) in behalf of my mother I did something. Something I don't think is right, I don't necessarily agree with but that just had to be done.

I movie hopped. That's right world. TAKE THAT! THAT'S FOR MY MAMA! We played secret agent Hard Core and snuck around corners covering each other and then waving the other past. I think there was a slow summersalt (sp) thrown in there some where as well. And he watched Star Trek. That night and the references ("I can fix that!") from those movies have entertwined to become a reminder to laugh and live it up. And we do laugh. Mostly about dead squirrels.

My mom is, of course, a trooper. I ache for her and this situation. Her mom was diagnosed with breast cancer around the same age and it presented in a very similar manner. The good news is and hopefully will follow suit, is that my grandmother only underwent one round of treatment: just radiation I think.

I hate that this happening but I don't worry about my mom. I love her and don't feel a need to protect her. Although, I will any way I can if she ever does need/want it. But she is strong and she is smart. I don't think she needs or would want to be babied. Spoiled, perhaps. Babied, definately not. Not this mama. I know she will get through this wisely and with both feet on the ground and doesn't need my pity or walking on eggshells. I trust her to do what she needs to do deal with this in a way that will work for her. I hope she's able to allow herself to hurt and be pissed when she needs to, though too. (Sometimes I think she forgets it's okay to feel, espeically if it's about herself. Go ahead, Mom: kick, cry, scream if you need to. Ask for and accept the hugs you need and feel free to decline the ones you don't want. I know I did all of the above. But then again, you don't need any advice from me.)

On a side note, I have always been interested directing my career toward cancer care and have worked on pediatric cancer floors some. For the parents of all the kids who brought their kids to the E.D. with a sore throat and were freaking out all we could think, after working with the cancer kids (or otherwise seriously ill, injured children) was, "Sheesh, it's not cancer." Now I can't say that to my patients, or my mother, because it is.

The week before all this went down I accepted a permanant position at a cancer clinic in Concord, Ca. That's right no more travel nursing for me, not for a year or two at least. I didn't know what to do after I finished my last assignment here in the bay area. I had made quite the list of things I wanted in a job if I were to accept a permanant postion and someone upstairs was listening-and I'm sure laughing at my attempts to be pushy when had a very merciful and lovely plan just waiting for me to follow through. I very much enjoy my new job and the people I work with, staff and patients alike. I love that it gives me the chance to geek out and goof off.
I geek out on all the science and information I'm learning and goof off with the great population I work with.

I also now have access to all the information I could ever need and I think being able to learn and study cancer in general and breast cancer specifically (Heavely Father is awesome in his blessing but sometime's has a strange sense of humor/timing) helps me to deal with this.

Many of the people that come in I very much worry about and their ability to deal with/get through something like this. But I trust my mother very much. She is stronger than any one person I think I know and I think she'll appropriatley and rationally (rationally meaning remembering to add just enough unorthodox and irrationality for balace-my mom's great at this) get herself through this and inspire the rest of us along the way.

But it still sucks.

Love you, Mom. No one knows better what you need or what will help, even if it's not helping, than you. Just let me know what it is that you'd like and I've totally got your back. Now and always. Through this and everything.

An Evening in Ostia

This airport stinks and now that I've got my partner in crime let's get outta here. With Christy's bits of Italian we find the right bus and head towards of hostel outside the city in a town called Ostia.

On the bus ride we giggle sleepily with the realization and thrill that we are, in fact, in Italy. I believe at one point the overwhelming excitement and exhaustion causehe non-sequitor gasp of, "We're in Italy! Look there's corn!" to escape from Christy's mouth. Yes we were in Italy and yes indeed there was corn; it became a war-cry of excitement and approval for the rest of the trip, "hee hee hee. We're in Italy!" "Yep! Look there's corn." (Insert sleep deprivation level of humor here.)

At some point in this blur of the sandman's spell and excitement for the adventure that lay ahead we changed buses. The flavor of Italy was all around us and the soundtrack was....was...

was Eminem??? A few young guys on the bus were rockin' out to Eminem. We tried to capture this contrast: the Italian men and women on the bus, the architecture, the graffiti, the tiny cars, and the misplaced soundtrack on video but as soon as the camera came out one of the young men leaned in, put his arm around and me posed with a big smile for the camera. We had no choice but to capture this to on film (or memory card...whatever). As we were exiting and trying to conceal our smiles, the young man shouts after us with what seemed to be a very thought-throw and enthusiastic "bye" in his adorable Italian accent.

And just a side note here: Italian men LOVE Christy. I think our first few hours in Italy she was given 3 phone numbers. We had men stop dead in their tracks and chase after us just for a chance to speak with her. (Many didn't speak English but certainly kept trying in order to get to know this mysterious beauty from the west.) I got absolutely no attention whatsoever. I know many of you think I'm lying-but ask Christy, she'll confirm. I was invisible in the shadow of her her Italian tractor beam. Many of them looked at me only long enough to let me know they wished I was gone. Most didn't even bother with that.

We arrive at the Litus Hostel in Ostia, Italy and check in to our room. We spent a few extra $ and got a private room. This place is Posh. At least for a hostel and compared to many discount hotels. There are large, french doors I'd guess you'd call them (hee hee french doors in itally. hee hee hee), with huge shudders that open up and look right out on the coastline of the Mediterranean Sea. Oh yeah. This is gonna work out juuuuuuuuust fine.

We decide to grab some grub (if you can even call such heavenly bliss such a thing). We head out along the beach and look for a restaurant but are delayed and distracted by what I shall forever consider in my heart and mind, "the colors of Italy". I'm literally talking about colors. They're unbelievable! Everything is saturated in shades and depth we can't even imagine here. The blues! The purple-blues! The oranges! The so many different shades of seemingly white, whites! So thick in pigment and rich vividity (vividness?)! I'm sure a new and previously unused portion of my brain needed to be accessed to experience those colors!

After a photographing session of the city and sea we decide on a restaurant and get our socks rocked. I was seated so that I was looking at the piano player (SCORE! Live music), who hammed it up and winked us whenever we caught his eye, and the sea. Christy was facing the entrance of the restaurant and snickered several times informing me that all of the male wait staff were hovering near a doorway and watching us (well, her). I quite enjoyed my view though, too.

A picture of us, both very tired, giddy, and ready to eat, if we don't fall asleep before the food arrives.

When dinner arrived we were both literally blown away by our dishes. I still dream of mine and have been in search of yellow saffron ever since. She had some delicious something with like vodka-type sauce I think...I don't remember...it was good....but I was too completely enamoured with my lemon-saffron linguini to focus on hers (which she seemed to be enjoying equally as much as I). Changed my life that pasta did. CHANGED MY LIFE. (Again previously unaccessed portion of the taste section in my brain. MMmmmmmmmmmmmmm!) Photos depict actual reactions to the first bite.

On our way home, Christy picks up another phone number as we walk back to the hostel. I'm pretty tired at this point but in good spirits. When we reach the hostel they inform us that they are playing Gladiator in the theater room. MAN! I've never seen it and what a perfect setting to see it in. However, I decide it's more important to be awake for Rome than to watch a movie.

Yet another guy who stopped us (by us, I mean Christy) and insisted on making sure Christy had his number.

And we head to bed. I'm out.

I Went to Rome Today

So, my friend Christy Warnick (link to her blog with better pics and details of the trip cwarnickrun.blogspot.com), who insidentally is the first person I really met when I first moved to the bay area in January.
(I met her at church and she was more than willing to tell me where all the best hiking and running trails were. In fact, we jumped in her jeep after church and she took me to all of them-what a cool girl! I also found out that she used to work on cruise ships with the twin sister of a guy I was dating [in Texas] at the time.) Some people are just supposed to meet I guess.

Anyway, so my friend Christy Warnick went to the UK for vacation. The whole thing had been planned months in advance. She gets to Scotland and the girl who is supposed to travel with her bails. She's jet-lagged and can't sleep; it's some ridiculous hour in the morning there. It's like 9 or 10pm here. We chat for a few minutes on facebook and she tells me her predicament. My response is, "you want me to come meet you some where?" Her response, "You know if most people were to say that I wouldn't think much about it but with you, I know you're serious. I've never been to Rome and always wanted to go."
Great! In all of Europe, Italy is the one place I've always wanted to go. 6am (her time) comes, sleep and travel frustrations build, she decides to get some sleep and will call me when she wakes up.

2:30 am: my phone wakes me up. It's a go. I find a beautifully cheap flight to Rome, book it, pack and fly out 4 hours later.

On the plane I met two brothers Mike and Walter, originally from Italy, now in Philadelphia (Mike owns a gift shop, the one right across from the liberty bell if you're ever in need of a Philly souvenier hook up), who are headed to Eastern Italy for a cousin's wedding and I'm invited. HOW COOL WOULD THAT BE?! To experience Italy via Italian wedding style! If only I could get ahold of Christy and if only we had more time. Alas, you can't win 'em all but still I'd really liked to have won this one....but turns out I wouldn't have traded the trip I ended up with either. The answer is simple. I just need to spend more time in Italy.



16 hours later I arrive in Italy, 8am local time. Christy's flight doesn't come in until 4pm and I am kaput! I've got time to kill and desparately need some sleep. I scour the airport for a crash pad. Apparently I'm really good at finding good places to sleep in airports cause at one point I was awoken by homeless man poking my side repeatedly. I was in his spot. At first I just grunted, turned and closed my eyes. I could take him and it was the only row of chairs in the airport that didn't have armrests between the seats, but the poking persisted. FINE. GRRRR.



At this point I realized it's probably better to move since many homeless people have underlying mental disorders (which noramlly don't bother me as I see them in a clinical setting and they feel more safe but can act out irrationally and unpredicatably when not in a "safe place" or feel threatened, not to mention the very slow processing of my brain as to what sorts of stuff I was most likely laying IN if this was his regular spot.

4pm comes, and goes, so does 5pm. Her flight finally arrives somewhere closer to 6pm. We see each other and just smirk with exhaustion, relief and mischief. We did it, as silly and possibly stupid as it was, we had planned that morning and met the next evening in Rome, Italy. And what a miraculously wonderful time it turned out to be.