Red Carpet Review

Didn't watch the Academy Awards last night but sure checked out the gowns.  Here are my ratings, Hit, Miss, Neutral, and sub-category of Miss, What the...?

Hit: Anne Hathaway, Resse Witherspoon, Gwyneth Paltrow, Helen Mirren, Camila Alves, Cate Blanchett, Mandy Moore, Hailee Steinfeld, Melania Trump

Neutral: Sandra Bullock, Halle Berry, Natalie Portman, Michelle Williams, Jennifer Hudson, Hilary Swank

Miss: Penelope Cruz, Nicole Kidman, Mila Kunis, Amy Adams, Annette Bening, Sharon Stone, Erin Andrews
     What the...?: Helena Bonham Carter, Scarlett Johahnsen, Jennifer Redfern, Mark Wahlberg's wife

Overall best a tie between Gwyneth Paltrow (except for that weird hem length) and Camila Alves.  The dress I picked out from Carolina Herrera would have been lovely.

Life is too short to eat salads with no dressing

     Last night was emotionally exhausting...I think because it started out that way and if you are emotionally beat by 10pm you are in for a looooooong night.  At change of shift a new patient was put in my room, a 4 year-old little girl who had been complaining of tummy pain for about a week.  I went in to do my assessment and fell in love.  She was so talkative and cute, she introduced me to her friend Oscar, her stuffed frog, told me her favorite color was orange, and her mother (8 months pregnant) was having a baby soon, but she was going to feel better by the time the baby was born.  She also told me she was very brave and she had beautiful eyelashes (she did).  Any nurse lucky enough to have a patient that adorable should feel so grateful, compassion regenerates quickly (at least in me) when I have little pediatric patients like her.  She put a smile on my face and I was glad I was her nurse.  About an hour after she came in, we got her lab results.  She had cancer.  Her mother had no idea.  We had to break the news to her.  When the doctor told me the news, it was like being punched in the stomach.  I cannot imagine if it were my baby.  The doctor called the mom into his office and as gently as he could explained the findings and recommended that her daughter be transferred to a bigger hospital with pediatric oncologists. 
     Of course the mom was devastated and started crying and crying and I just stood in the hallway and hugged her until she was ready to go back into the room with a smile on her face.  I am not sure what or if she mentioned anything to her daughter, all her daughter knew was that tonight, she was  so excited because she was going to get to ride in an ambulance.  I was in and out of the room before the ambulance arrived to pick her up, and I'll be darned if that little girl didn't have us all laughing before she left.  Her poor mother was just sitting next to the hospital bed crying and crying and after awhile, the little girl looked at her mom and said "Mama, you have got to stop all this wah-wah ing and just be a big girl, ok?".  When a child gets a diagnosis like that, as a nurse and as a human you become very aware of speaking in the future-tense. After the little girl invited me to her birthday party, all I could think of was, 'Will she make it to this birthday?  Will this be her last birthday party?'  It was a socially sickening feeling.  What made it worse, the ER physician pointed out to me, was all the horrible regular patients that we have that do not take care of themselves, abuse their bodies, are ungrateful for the care we give, and just live their lives oblivious to others and the gift that is life itself.  This little girl was next door to a drug-addict, and it made me just want to shake the addict and say "Look at yourself! You are throwing your life away! Not everyone is as lucky to be living and you are throwing this gift away!!".  It was emotionally exhausting and a few times I had to step in to the break room and compose myself and wipe my tears and blow my nose. 
     Why?  A perfectly beautiful, happy, loved little girl and after tonight her life and her family's life may never be the same.  It kind of put things in perspective for me.  Lately my biggest worry has been the cellulite on my thighs.  Last night made me realize how lucky I am and how much I love my family and how life is very, very precious.  In the ER people come in and out, live and die, and most of the time death does not consciously effect me one way or another.  I have no problem putting bodies in bags and toe tags on, it means nothing to me, it is just a part of the job.  I am so greatful to be reminded how very special life is, and I have my little patient to thank for that.

Pocket 'O Goodies

I love living by myself.  I have never had that privilege before, save sophomore year of college, when I was alone in a single dorm room, approximately 5 feet x 10 ft, for one semester.  I have my own bathroom, walk-in closet, can play the music I want, keep the thermostat how I want, decorate how I want...if I feel like baking cookies at 3am while listening to the Grease soundtrack in my skivvies I can and do, do it!  I never like anything that I wear to work to come back into my apartment after it has been "exposed" to the ER.  My shoes come off at the door, and so do most of my clothes.  After being around germs, poo, pee, blood, scabs, oozing wounds, mucous, hairballs, vomit, occasional lice, cockroaches, festering tumors, pieces of brain, spilled meds, etc. etc. (you get the picture) the last thing I want to do is bring any of that into my home.  To combat this infiltration...I undress upon entering my apartment, usually at the door, after I empty my pockets.  If I had a roommate who did this, it would drive me bonkers.  I revel in the fact that my brother and/or dad are not here to tell me that I absolutely CANNOT leave my bra on the kitchen counter, or my hairbrush in the living room, or that it is not really appropriate to run through the living room with no clothes on.  Oh sweet independence!  I can put whatever I want, wherever I want, consciously or not (I have found my planner in the fridge and silver wear in my closet next to the shoes??).  This morning after I got home I got a good laugh at the pile of stuff I placed on the counter after a very long and very dirty night.  I thought I would take a picture to remind me of my crazy single love-my-apartment nursing mornings after work.  Take a look for yourself, my night in a nutshell: lipgloss, digital watch, trauma shears, syringes, car keys, ID badge, paper tape, pens, SOBE Life water, my heart bracelets (they remind me to have compassion when I feel like drop-kicking patients/co-workers/etc.) medical long scissor thingy, book I have not been able to start yet, hairbrush, blunts...and an undergarment.  Ha.  It's like an Eye Spy book.

My Dearest Dad...

So, last night work was horrendously busy.  Short-staffed, over-crowded...it's no one's fault but it is still exhausting and makes you realize that burn-out is a very real thing.  Last night, somewhere between the anaphylactic shock patient and the fifth chest pain patient of the night, and the de-oxygenating little girl and the two psych patients, the demented man who kept trying to crawl out of bed and pull his urinary catheter out, and the vaginal bleeder, I decided I had had enough.  I decided that my options are definitely limited as to my future and getting a new job by the end of next week, but my miraculous brain came up with a plan: I will get in shape and become and exotic dancer.  Ha.  Last night if you would have caught me between 9pm and 3am, I would have been dead serious about doing it. "I just need to get my own insurance" I thought to myself.  I was not worried about what my friends would think, or co-workers, but the thought that did scare me was the idea that I would have to tell my dad I was quitting nursing to strip.  I don't need no college education!  I thought hard about how I would break it to him and decided that I would write him a letter and tell him I got a new job that a) was less stressful  b) safer (no worrying about needle sticks, TB, Meningitis, physchotic/violent patients that scratch, kick, bite, working with HIV + blood) and c) more physically active.  Let's not forget d) I would make a ton of tax-free money, and e) no more changing adult diapers either.  So, do those sound good enough to convince my dad?  Hell no.  Around 3:30am when I had two seconds to get organized rationality took my brain back over.  But it is nice to think that for the next couple years or so, exotic dancing can be an imaginary option for those really, really bad nights when I would do anything to be in a different line of work.  I wonder what my patients would have thought if they could have heard my thoughts last night..."I am going to quit this nonsense and start exotic dancing.  How will I break the news to my dad?".  It probably would have instilled a boat-load of confidence in them. : )

Debbie Downer's latest competitor...ME

I think being disappointed must be a part of growing up.  You start out believing everything, and then slowly, you start to realize things and disappointment inevitably follows.  You start out slow, finding out there is no Santa Claus, or Easter Bunny, or Tooth Fairy.  By that time you have friends and most likely are in school, and you learn about rainbows and thunder and how it isn't really magic (which I think is disappointing).  Then you get older and some friends let you down.  You may let yourself down, people in your family may let you down.  Boys break your heart, friends leave; you learn your parents are not invincible in the superhero sense of the word.  But then you make more friends and hope you will not be disappointed in them.  I am so tired of being disappointed in people.  I grew up believing that people are generally good, and to trust unless you are given a reason not to.  Unfortunately, sometimes I don't believe that people are generally good, and have learned to not trust anyone unless I am given a reason TO trust them.  It's kind of the worst feeling in the world.  My sister may have had it right.  I gave her endless grief about her pessimistic view of the world growing up.  Even as a little person she told me "I try not to get excited or happy about most things because then if they don't happen, I am not disappointed".  I thought she was crazy and couldn't imagine living my life like that, but as I get older, disappointment seems like potholes in the road: it is better to just avoid them because if you hit every one, sooner or later it is going to break something.

It's complicated

I make things complicated.  Check out my flow-chart to remind myself that Tuesday is garbage pick-up day.  I am going to try and make things more simple, even though I think I do pretty well avoiding drama in my daily life.  There is a fine line between being honest with people and being rude.  I am learning.  "Do these pants make me look fat?" "Um...yes, but don't worry, no one can pull those off besides Alessandra Ambrosio" (google her and you will see what I mean).  Does that work?  Here is that fantastic photo...why I didn't put 'TRASH - TUESDAY' I will never know.  It just didn't occur to me.

I don't think they're playing with a full deck of cards if you know what I mean...

     Kids wear me out.  I don't know how elementary school teachers do it.  I started volunteering at a children's shelter a few months ago, and after a few hours with babies and kids I am exhausted.  I have learned that I am no good at homework help, usually I just want to give the kids the answers because it is quicker and easier and then we can get on to more important stuff, like baking a cake or painting our nails.  I do not miss social studies.  Or multiplication tables.  Or science fair projects.  I never could think up good topics for science fairs.  Whenever I remember science fair, I remember this one particular project.  I was in sixth grade.  I have no idea what my project was on, but I remember walking around the gym with all the folding tables set up and looking at everyone else's projects.  One girl had a VCR and TV set up and was playing a video she had made.  Upon closer inspection, her project was titled "Do Cats Always Land on Their Feet?".  I don't know why I remember this so well.  Anyways, she had made a video of herself and/or her brother and their family cat.  They set the camera up and got a ladder and proceeded to film the cat being dropped by them after they had climbed various heights up the ladder.  After every cat drop, the cat would take off like a shot and the camera would be turned off, and then turned on again when they were back on the ladder with the cat, ready to be dropped from a new height.  It was too funny, but the funniest part is that at the time, it seemed like a perfectly legitimate project. Kids brains really do work differently.
   The capacity of the human brain is something I have had to change my opinion about since I started in my line of work.  I used to be of the school of thought "If I can do something, everyone else should be able to as well".  I applied this to education, self-control, common sense, work-ethic, decision making, right vs. wrong, employment, etc. etc.  Of course I have heard of nature vs. nurture and of different parts of the brain developing at different ages, but humans are all fundamentally the same, right?  Not when it comes to brain function.  What I didn't know and couldn't wrap my head around for the longest time is that due to factors, some external, such as the use of street drugs (honestly, telling me you make all your own meth when you are my patient will NOT impress me), or internal, i.e. bad genetics, some people's brains do not function as well as others.  I realized this after watching an episode of  Intervention.  This certain drug-addicted individual had no impulse control and they targeted it back to drug use during this person's early teen years.  The drug use had actually damaged the brain to the point of preventing it from developing and the person literally did NOT have the ability to perform certain tasks.  It was an adult who would physically grow and change but the mind would always be that of a pre-teen.  Apparently this is not uncommon with drug use, and can help explain why drug addicts have such major problems in every aspect of their lives.  And why you cannot reason with them.  This just blew my mind.  I had always thought that with enough hard work, anything is possible, but I really see now for some people it is not...and unfortunately never will be.  This revelation gave me some insight and maybe some more patience when it comes to treating drug seekers and chronic drug abusers, which we see very frequently.  Sometimes, on bad nights, it seems like these people are outnumbering the people with common sense and au natural brains that are homemade-crack and meth free.
   The more I see of the world and learn about people, the more I want to either a) become a hermit b) start my own country c) find a job where I do not work so strongly against Darwin.  Honestly, when I apply for my next job under job history I will put Registered Nurse, Emergency Room and then under description I will put "I combat Darwin's theory of evolution on a nightly basis".  Good grief!

I cheated

I cheated.  I went and looked at Google News because sometimes I still have this nagging, guilty feeling about not knowing a darn thing about what is going on in the world.  Hopefully that feeling fades with time.  Like always, all the news was bad (earthquakes in New Zealand), sad (cash for kids?) or ridiculous (Justin Beiber cut his hair!).  This just reiterated that I am not missing out on anything. 

I slept most of today...after two years could my body's default setting have finally (unfortunately) turned to nocturnal??

I cannot tell if this is a joke or not...it's called The Troll Hunter.  I half-way hope it is real because this looks like something I would be entertained by.  Watch it.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=TLEo7H9tqSM&feature=related

Glad to see they only appear to be in Norway though, I am pretty sure we do not have a triage template at work for 'troll attack', more specifically the mountain variety vs. the woodland variety.

Renewed outlook...yes please!

I literally danced the skin off my feet in a few places.  If that is not proof of love of dancing, I don't know what is.  I had a fabulous weekend.  My new bikini is hanging in the doorway between my bedroom and the living room so I can see it and stay motivated to lose a few of those winter hibernation pounds before beach season.  I cannot wait for summer...the beach, sunshine, some fantastic friends and family, fresh shrimp on the grill (skrimp as it is called down here), new swimsuits, good books, naps in the sun, kayaking, roadside vendors with fresh snap peas and giant strawberries... I am looking forward to my biggest problem being sunscreen running into my eyes and figuring out what song to listen to.  Last night after dancing we took a quick walk on Jax beach to cool off and give our feet a rest.  We could completely enjoy the beauty of the full moon, seeing as how we were not at work to be weary of it. (People go crazier than usual when there is a full moon, I swear).  If you had thrown in a good-looking guy and removed the sleeping homeless people, it would have had the potential of being a downright romantical (yes, I invented that word) scenario with the moon and the water and the pier.  It's little excursions like this trip that make work less life-consuming...and make you appreciate you own warm bed.  Wiping bottoms and getting spit at and peed on will be a little more bearable now that summer is on the horizon, and I have a fabulous hot pink bikini to welcome it in with. 

Dance Dance

Last night was a success.  After 2 clubs, 3 blisters (dance through the pain!), one margarita, one appletini, one Journey remix, one Jackson 5 remix, one thrown drink (not by us, we were in the line of fire), approximately 6 attempted pick-ups starting with "Hi.  My name is            . I am a lawyer/in law school" (not effective with me, might as well have said you were in waste management), a few hours of dancing and 3 Krystal burgers later we came home.  I had a hot shower and spent a much warmer night (I found a curtain to wrap up in) on my air mattress.   Now we are up again and ready for round two of shopping.  Perfect. 

I enjoy being a girl

After a chilly night, (do I NOT look cold?!  I am sleeping with my fitted sheet and bath towel!) the girly girl marathon began.  We started out with Starbucks, then went to the beach and picked out new bikinis.  I was introduced to the Brazilian bikini bottom...I had to ask the sales girl which was the front and which was the back...and am in love.  I am now the proud owner of a Vitamin A hot pink and white polka dot little number.  Thank goodness for the previous trip to Brazil.  After that we hit up Sephora and Victoria's Secret, then shoes, then a long lunch and then a couple more hours of shopping.  We got back to the house and did pore strips and facials complete with cucumbers on the eyes, and are now enjoying last night's Chinese leftovers while getting ready to go out dancing.  Right now we are trying on outfits, drying hair, putting on makeup, and shaving legs and plucking eyebrows.  It looks like a makeup/department store/beauty salon explosion.  After a call home (stay out of the water, there is an influx of sharks in the Florida area right now!), I need to get ready.  After living for weeks in elastic-waistband pants and dealing with stains on clothing from each and every type of human bodily fluid...it feels so good to take some time for ourselves.  I LOVE being female.  Tonight is going to be epic.

Let's hear it for the girls...

FINALLY...a few days off.  I will be up in a few hours to head to Jacksonville, FL with some girlfriends for a quick get-out-of-town adventure.  Sometimes a change of scenery is just what I need.  Forecasting mid-high 70's, some shopping, the beach, some dancing, some good food, lots of laughing...I am so thankful I have girlfriends...and that some nice weather is headed our way.  In May I have a second annual girl's vacation with some friends from college coming up, we are all over the map (AK, CA, ID, WY, SC, TV) (TV isn't a state abbreviation, I was just seeing if you were paying attention) but going to try to make it a point to get together every year for a week or just a long weekend of fun.  Last year was Las Vegas.  This year is Folly Beach outside of Charleston.  It's going to be epic.  Girlfriends, sisters, mothers, aunts...what would we do without each other?

10 Things I bet YOU didn't know...and I just learned

My brain is always going a million miles an hour it seems.  'How is that?' you are probably asking.  'Don't you sleep most of the time?'  Yes, yes I do, but even my dreams are complex.  You know what I have realized I am doing in dreams now, because I dream so often and so vividly and remember every little detail?  I am referencing other dreams I've had, in my more recent dreams.  Phew.  Always learning, always thinking, always dreaming.  To illustrate the capacity of knowledge my brain is learning and holding constantly, here is a short list of things I learned at work  just last night:

1) There really is no really good way to sugar-coat "You fell of your porch you were (are) so drunk and now your leg is broken in two-places" to a 65-year old woman.
2) You can bribe co-workers with (my) mom's homemade ginger snaps.
3) Running four flights of stairs to a code blue while trying to swallow half a bagel isn't a smart idea.
4) Sometimes it's ok to say "I'm the nurse!  THAT'S why!"
5) Just quit assuming there is going to be anything edible in the cafeteria at nighttime.
6) If an African-American woman comes in via ambulance with no hair, most likely her wig is going to appear from some odd place when you are not expecting it.  Don't let it frighten you.
7) If you feel like a patient is going to die soon, they probably are.
8) Retired nurses are THE WORST patients ever.
9) If you run in to a chemistry professor, and even if it wasn't your chemistry professor, if you look like you have been in college in the last decade, he or she will quiz you on hypo-, hyper- and iso- tonic solutions.
10) Appalachian Kool-Aid = moonshine

My brain is so full, I don't know how I manage to walk around.

Pardon me, but you's drunk-up sir

Conversation between me and a regular patient of mine last night, he was brought in because he walked to the the fire station and demanded a ride to the ER because he thought he had the flu.  He is always intoxicated and attempts to flirt with anything he senses might be female:

Me: "Hi sir.  Do you remember me?  I was your nurse the last time you were in here.  You told me I looked like Halle Berry"
Patient: "I must'a been drunk."
Me: "You were. Very much so."
Patient: (staring at me intently for a few minutes) "Actually, yo face do look a little like Halle Berry...but yo body don't."
Me: "I am aware I do not have the same figure as Halle Berry, sir"
Patient: "That ok.  You ain't that bad.  I guess you got a little junk in yo trunk."
Me: "Sir, please refrain from talking about the junk in my trunk."
Patient: "Why?  How old you is?"
Me: "Sixteen"
Patient: "Oh. Hmmmmm...." (scratching head)

...And people wonder why I prefer not to interact with others on my days off...nights full of conversations like this one decrease my IQ.  Talking to people like this for 2 years and I am not surprised that when I get new patients and am tired, I have to stop myself from blurting out "Where you be hurtin'?".

(Lake Baikal-Deep) Deep Thoughts

My perfect Valentine's day....hmmmm, I thought about what would make this the perfect Valentine's day for me in bed this morning.  (I am still in bed, by the way).  I decided it would be sleeping in, getting up and going to the spa, having a late lunch with friends, a possible nap, my late-lunch leftovers, and then a Lord of the Rings movie marathon while eating all the orange and yellow conversation hearts I could stand.  That's not too outrageous, is it?  No, upon closer inspection it is slightly lame, but it still sounds good to me.  Instead I am going to try to sleep today, then head back to work tonight.  Oh well, there are worse things than not celebrating V-day how you want to...like stubbing your toe or not noticing until you get to work that your scrub pants are on backwards. And inside out. And they are not the reversible type.

I was doing a lot of deep thinking in bed this am.  Get this epic epiphany I had: I would have no use for an invisibility cloak.  That thought was like a slap in the face.  I honestly couldn't think of one reason I would need one!  Where is the fun in that?  I guess that is one of the perks of being an adult, you can just go where you want to go and do what you want to do.  I wonder if Harry Potter got much use out of his in his adult life? Sadly, I will never know.

I would, however, have use for a magic mocrowave.  This microwave has been a long-standing dream/wish my mom and I have discussed over the years since I left home.  I guess because everywhere I have been, I have had a microwave and there has been a microwave at home with my parents.  The magic microwave is sheer genius.  Someone can put a meal or food item in it wherever they are, put in a phone number on the number pad, hit start, and then voila! It appears in the recipients microwave wherever that person may be, a sort of teletransporter microwave.  This would mean home-cooked meals at college, holiday meals from mom when working holdiays, warm chocolate chip cookies and ginger snaps any day of the week, a birthday meal if you are not home for your birthday, and to me, a delicious meal when I am at work and didn't pack one.  No more dinners of graham crackers and peanut butter and ginger ale, or vending machine brands of chips I have never heard of. 

Now, if only someone would invent one....

My Favorite Poem

I remember we had to read this poem in 9th grade, and I instantly loved it.  I heart Spoon River Anthology. I wonder what my poem would have said.  Here's to you, Edgar Lee Masters. 

George Gray

I have studied many times

The marble which was chiseled for me—

A boat with a furled sail at rest in a harbor.

In truth it pictures not my destination

But my life.

For love was offered me and I shrank from its disillusionment;

Sorrow knocked at my door, but I was afraid;

Ambition called to me, but I dreaded the chances.

Yet all the while I hungered for meaning in my life.

And now I know that we must lift the sail

And catch the winds of destiny

Wherever they drive the boat.

To put meaning in one’s life may end in madness,

But life without meaning is the torture

Of restlessness and vague desire—

It is a boat longing for the sea and yet afraid.

Edgar Lee Masters

Fragment (consider revising)

Just trying to make it through the work stretch. When I come home I hear IV pumps and monitors alarming for hours.  I honestly hear one right now.  I smell like hospital.  So good to take a hot bath. Going to sleep now.  Back to work in t-10 hours. Life will resume next Thursday.  Actually, I think that sound in my ear is not an alarm...I think it is actually the sound of silence.  I can't tell...how ridiculous is that?

Bright Side of the Road

Last night in the ER was long.  I am going to list all the positives that came out of it as a personal-pep blog, so I continue to return to work tonight.  And the next night. And then the next three.

1) My eye makeup looked pretty good
2) I saw a puppy
3) I was dry heaving so hard I was ordered to leave the room and I didn't have to clean the patient of diarrhea after all
4) My stubbed toe isn't actually broken (confirmed by xray)
5) I laughed really hard when the patient who we pretty much brought back to life requested a beer as soon as he could talk again
6) None of my patients died.  Some of my patience did though.  Get it?  Ha ha ha.

Ok, well that about does it.  Buena noche.

Some people call me the Efficiency Queen...but no one I know

In the last 12 hours I have been uber-productive.  I did my taxes, 2 loads of laundry, finished the first season of Downton Abbey, prepared all my meals for work, checked out the Badgley Mischka spring line, showered and also got in 6 hours of sleep.  Amazing.  I am so productive sometimes I just don't know what to do with myself.  Actually, I do.  I am going back to sleep.  I work 6 of the next 7 nights and would like to remain as pleasant as possible while avoiding death.  That's not too much to ask, right?  Now, if only the rooster (who has a rooster in city limits? is that even legal?) in the woods behind me would shut up.  He is giving me flashbacks to mornings in the Honduran jungle where you wake up and pray your mosquito netting is still intact.  Mine usually wasn't.

Thank you to L. Evans for the photo.  Now the whole world can see how fabulous I look when I sleep.

I judge books by their covers

This morning it took me a minute to remember where I parked my car last night.  Then I remembered: on the other side of the building.  I came home late last night after dinner and movie with a friend, and as I was turning into my usual parking side I saw two young black men, leaning on one of the few lamp posts with their arms crossed.  I know we learn it is terrible to judge, and these two could have been National Merrit Finalists taking a study break to contemplate their Yale admissions essays, but...it didn't look like it.  It looked more like baby-mama drama or a drug deal.  So I parked on the other side of the building and snuck into my apartment, staying out of their line of sight.  I had my leftovers in one hand and my mace in the other.  If a long-lost friend had jumped out of the bushes at me, I would have maced them in the face. 
     People get so uptight about judging people, but I think it is a survival instinct.  If you are a gazelle and you see a lion, most likely it is a lion, not a baboon dressed up like a lion.  It would be stupid for the gazelle to think, "hmm, maybe this lion is different, maybe it is a vegetarian!".  The gazelle could be right, but who really wants to risk life and limb to find out?  I think it is the same socially, professionally and in every other aspect of my life.  Looking clean and professional, or whatever the situation dictates, is key to success.  You don't have to be beautiful, but you should think about what your image is projecting to others.  The other day when I went to the spa, I was sitting in the waiting room.  Two possible aestheticians came out to call for their clients, and I automatically hoped I had the one with the nice makeup and hair, and not the one with wrinkly pants and the bad skin.  Unconsciously we equate looks with intelligence and ability, and it is not always the case, but it is a natural human instinct.  According to the New York Times, attractive men who attach a photo of themselves in job applications have significantly higher callback rates than men who are plain-looking or have no picture (Rampell).  It's science.  Why do we fight it?  I know I will most likely continue to take the safe route versus the "don't judge a book by its cover" route.  My mom sent me some wasp spray when I first moved into my own apartment.  Apparently it is as effective as mace but instead of the person having to be up close and personal when you spray it, it has a shooting range of 20 feet.  Maybe I will start carrying that around with me instead, and just spray people from a distance that look shifty.  That would get people to clean up their act, kind of like an extreme What Not to Wear.  You are not going to get any help, but you are going to know your look needs improving.  Ha.

Rampell, Catherine. "Are Attractive People More Employable?." Economix. The New York Times, 9 Feb 2011. Web. 9 Feb 2011. <http://economix.blogs.nytimes.com/2010/11/22/are-attractive-people-more-employable/>.

'The heart doesn't mean everything the mouth says' - Gullah Proverb

I just read a book that had different Gullah proverbs in it.  I also really liked this one: "I've been in sorrow's kitchen and licked out all the pots".  Pretty great, huh?  Gullah is the African American culture here in the South Carolina/Georgia Lowcountry, complete with a dialect that sounds (to me)  part ebonic/Jamaican/Creole.  I unfortunately haven't had too much interaction with this culture, but I think it is fascinating.  Here is a list from Wikipedia (great source, I know) of some Gullah customs and history: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Gullah.  I have learned some customs from co-workers and patients too, like always painting the trim of your house a lighter color than the rest of it to keep spirits out of the corners,  laying a broom across your front door keeps hags out (people are serious about hags here, I am pretty sure I have seen a few at work...) and if all else fails, go see Dr. Buzzard the medicine man.  He can throw and read the bones.  I also did not know what okra was, or the best way to get conch out of its shell to make soup.  Also I have heard of some interesting home remedies.  A woman brought in her infant son who had a fever.  I asked what she did at home for him (meaning did she give him Tylenol or Motrin) and she replied that she had bathed him in vinegar but nothing had happened.  That one took me a minute to process.  Many of the porches have beautiful light blue ceilings, which is called haint blue.  It is to represent water and keeps restless spirits out of the home because spirits cannot cross water.  Duh.  In my book, there was the saying "when you're seeking the sacred, you know you've come out on the other side when someone gives you something in a dream (Henry 73-74)".  I have been thinking about that one a lot lately.  If anyone comes up to me in the near future and tries to give me a silver remote-controlled car, a hypothermic baby, or my 4th grade classroom full of books, I am not sure I am going to accept it.  I have weird dreams.  Hmmmm, this has piqued my somewhat-latent interest in Gullah culture.  I am going to do some more research....


Henry, Patti Callahan. Where the River Runs. 1st. New York, NY: Penguin Group, 2005. 73-74. Print.

Walk on the Wild Side

I just ate an expired pickle.  It expired in November of last year, but was in an unopened glass container that had been refrigerated.  I didn't think pickles expired?  I thought that pickling was another word for preserving.  If I die suddenly and soon of unknown causes, remember the pickle.  I feel so daring!

I don't walk on the wild side often, but I do know how to.  For me, mixing things up and getting crazy usually involves something like adding a tomato to my Caesar salad.  In the way of emotional outbursts, I don't remember the last time I had one.  I like being in control of emotions.  That is something I was not aware of until I moved down South.  I have been called "cold" and "snob" and multiple people have told me "you hide things better than anyone I know" (in regards to emotional issues at work).  I don't understand bringing emotional baggage to work and I don't understand getting emotionally involved with patients who you do not know and have never seen before they rolled in on a stretcher 10 minutes earlier.  Sure things are sad and difficult, but bring your game face to work.  For some reason I equate loss of emotional control with loss of sense.  How are you going to make rational decisions and do complicated medication dosing calculations if you are boo-hooing?  For the PA student that burst into tears and ran from the trauma room when we were trying to intubate the 10-year old boy who had had the swimming accident, could you have done anything more dramatic or less helpful? 

Actually, I do remember the last time I felt I had an emotional outburst, and ironically enough, it was at work.  It was a crazy New Year's eve, the ER was crowded with police, patients, nurses, doctors, security guards, state troopers, respiratory therapists and techs.  We were running around like we normally do and I saw that I had a missed call from home.  It was almost New Year's eve, so I quickly called home to see what was up.  "Honey, grandma died" were the words that I heard.  I ran to the break room and locked myself into the bathroom while my parents calmed me down.  Not completely unexpected, her death did and still feels untimely.  I still feel so guilty that I wasn't there.  After we hung up, I called the charge nurse and told him I just needed a few minutes.  The secretary came to check on me, I put my face back together, and a few minutes later went back to work.  Those were the only people that knew anything was wrong.  I was so glad I could wrap up my grief and put it away.  It might not be the best way to deal with things, but that night there were more important things to worry about, like performing open cardiac massage for the first time in a man who's life was slipping away faster than we could catch it, than my own grief. 

Maybe I am a snot and cold-hearted, but to me in my line of work, it is a disservice to everyone around you, mostly the patient, when you let emotions and other stuff get in the way.  Your boyfriend dumped you?  What does that have to do with anything we are trying to do here and now? Remember, this blog is coming from the girl who cries every time she watches Father of the Bride or goes into an animal shelter.  I thought I was a bit on the dramatic side when I moved here, but in comparison to people in the South, I have the emotional wingspan of a miller moth. 

I think I am ok with that.

J'aime dormir

I slept through the Super Bowl.  I heard Green Bay won...cool.  If the Broncos are not playing then I don't care.  Or the Colts. 

One of the after-effects of being sick that is a benefit in my line of work is the decreased ability to smell.  I didn't dry heave once last night.  Maybe the ER gods felt sorry for me since the last time I was at work I had the world's stinkiest patients. 

This morning after work I unwound by taking a bubble bath and having a glass of the most amazing homemade Kahlua and soy milk on the rocks, then I slept so hard I woke up a couple times not knowing where I was.  I really, really appreciate that I am able to do stuff like this right now.  When lots of nurses are going home to families, getting kids off to school, having to do housework, grocery shop, and do everything else that being a working mother entails, I am pretty elated that I get to come home to peace and quiet and undisturbed sleep.  Oh sleep, how I adore you. 

Speaking of sleep...I may just give it another go here.

Sweet dreams.

Slightly burnt

I am baking.  It has been raining for days, and that kind of weather always puts me in the mood to bake.  I am baking some ginger snaps to take to work.  I think I did something just a little off, however, I kept messing up the amounts and then the cookies are not 'cracking' apart on top when they are done, so my first batch is a little on the burnt side.  Oh well, they still taste good. 

Sometimes I feel like life is passing me by and I am just a spectator, but when that happens I just need to take a deep breath and enjoy where and what I am right now.  So much happens around this age, college graduation, moving, jobs, love, marriage, beginning of families, careers, that when you see friends and family going through these changes, you wonder when life will begin for you. I think it is important to remember that the every-day is important too, and that is something I struggle with.  Listening to Van Morrison while baking on a rainy Saturday morning before trying to go back to sleep before the night shift isn't epic, but moments like this make up more time in my life than the HUGE events, and probably have more of an impact on who I am as well.  I love baking.  I love my apartment.  I love peace and quiet.  Such big deals are made out of life's milestones, but those can be few and far between. It is a work in progress for me to learn to appreciate the every-day as well.

                                                                    

To be a ballerina...

I watched a documentary on Russian ballerinas yesterday.  I love ballerinas.  I made a list of pros and cons to being a ballerina.

PROS: Tutus, sparkly costumes, feather headbands, lots of pink, excellent posture, adoring fans, no boobs, stage makeup, you dance for a living, seeing muscular men in tights is part of the job, all your clothing is elastic

CONS: Too skinny, walk duck-footed, no boobs, if you don't start by age 3 your chances of making it big decrease exponentially, not much time for other things, someone always trying to get your job, high stress, career over by 40

Obviously there are more pros than cons.  I think I missed my calling, if only I had been born with a different body type and an ounce of grace.  And in Russia.  Hmmmm, I think I will take my slightly endomorphic/mesomorphic physique. And Western up-bringing.  But I still wish there were more dancing, costumes and glitter in nursing.  There is the elastic clothing though, we do have that in common.

Shouldn't have Googled that rabbit, now I am going to have nightmares

     Old scary stories that actually have a story line in them are my favorite.  None of this Texas Chainsaw Project or Blair Witch Massacre, I like the scary movies and stories that make you think and don't just try to gross you out.  I remember when I went to see The Sixth Sense in the theater.  I was about 13 and my friend and I just sat there crying and holding on to each other.  I still think that is one of the scariest movies of all time.  Also the rabbit in Donnie Darko freaks me out.  I watched that a few years ago at a friend's house and had to drive home in the dark and get out and open the gate...I was sure that psycho rabbit was going to come bounding out of the bushes and attack me.  Or just stare at me.  Either would be horrifying.  Anyways, back to good scary tales.  I really enjoyed The Others, with Nicole Kidman, and The Orphanage, which was a foreign film I think from Spain??  Both really well done. Early this morning I watched Dorian Gray, based on the story The Picture of Dorian Gray by Oscar Wilde.  It was fascinating, I want to read to story now.  I also enjoyed The Telltale Heart by Edgar Allen Poe, The Turn of the Screw, by Henry James I think, and even Rebecca by Daphne Du Maurier was a bit creepy and Wuthering Heights' Cathy was haunting.  Sometimes a good scary tale is just what is needed, especially to balance out Valentine's Day which is coming up.  I also like scary movies at Christmas.
Just try to tell me this isn't scary...

    So, to change gears, the bridesmaid dress didn't fit.  Banana, if you are reading this and I haven't talked to you yet, well, it didn't work.  In theory the dress looked great on the 6' model and the ruffle around the collar was striking, but on me it looked like something about to swallow my head or like I belonged in a circus wearing that with a mustache or something.  So...back to the drawing board.  I know you want to keep things neutral, but what about this one?  I wouldn't have to worry about losing any weight before your big day and it would be a good icebreaker for all those family friends we will be seeing that we haven't seen since we got our permanent teeth.

 Just a suggestion....

Update on the Battle Front

     I have declared war against the bug.  Thera-flu, Kleenex, Gatorade/water, Vick's VapoRub, chapstick and ibuprofen have joined forces with me and soon we are expecting the key in the victory to end all battles: Azithromycin aka The Z-pack.  My floor looks like a forest of crumpled up tissue has sprouted up because when I am finished blowing my nose I throw the tissue overboard.  My bed is my ship, and I haven't been out of it more than 30 minutes since early Sunday morning (I did shower).  I am part-way through Harry Potter #4 for the umpteenth time on audio and have my laptop handy to keep my inbox clear of all the start-of-the-new-month bills.  For the record, if my nose does fall off like I think it is going to mid-blow here soon, I would like a replacement that looks just like my Grandma June's.  On the bright side of things, I have had time to look up stuff I normally wouldn't...like gigs in Venice...and I have fallen deeply in love with Carolina Herrerra's new Spring line.  I have also watched the entire 15th cycle of America's Next Top Model  (yay Ann!) and am at the point where I am going to need an intervention from the show Intervention.  I am officially ready to feel better, and yes that includes breathing out of my nose again.  I was ready two days ago and patience is not a strong virtue of mine.  Here's hoping that tomorrow I feel like a new person.

FYI, in case you were wondering just how fabulous Carolina Herrera's Spring '11 line is, take a peek here:
http://carolinaherrera.com/content.php?l=en

I already chose this one for the Academy Awards...her Tabea gown...(sigh), from her Resort '11 collection

love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love

Not plausible...but semi-possible

     This morning I had to ask myself, what is keeping you from selling everything and moving to Italy and renting an apartment the size of a cupboard and working a menial job in a coffee shop or better yet, a fashion house?  It was a wonderful half-second of possibility, then the logical side of myself answered: "First, you have car payments and student loan payments.  You don't speak Italian.  You don't know anything about sewing or business, and you definitely don't know how to run an espresso machine.  You would have no health insurance. Your income would be minimum wage. You talk to you parents at least once a day and phone calls home would be bi-monthly at best.  You feel lonely surrounded by people who speak English, imagine if you were surrounded by people who did not.  You are gullible and believe anything people tell you (I am getting better at the gullible thing...now I definitely KNOW there is NO such thing as blinker fluid for my car) and if you believed a nice man asked you out to dinner, he would probably actually be kidnapping you and selling into the underground sex-slave business.  Shall I continue?  Nope.  Thanks for that flash back to reality.  The problem is I would hate to one day end up wishing I would have done stuff like this when I was younger.  I can hear the conversation between me and my future kid now:
Child: "I want to travel the world!"
Me: "Son, I know how you feel, I always have wanted to too."
Child: "Then why didn't you?"
Me: "Mainly the debilitating fear that the lack of health insurance in an emergency would cause me crippling financial ruin for the rest of my life."
Child: "Oh. Ok.  Can I go outside and play?"

Living in fear is no way to live, but neither is living in crippling financial ruin.  I guess the trick is to be smart about it and balance the two.  Now if only I knew how to begin doing that....

PS - FYI, I just googled jobs in Venice, Italy and on craigslist, under 'gigs' sub-category 'talent', this is what I found:

Bachelor party right after the New Year,
I need a few female Dancers to entertain us,
the Wilder the better. Great pay for great talent.
Email me with reusme and at least 2 pictures featuring your assets for consideration.
If liked you will recieve more information.
Location: Venice

Awesome.  Something classy for the young professional.  After reading this being sold into the sex-slave trade seems more like a realistic possibility than ever.  I did enjoy the wording of the ad, however even if the spelling and grammar were pathetic.  Ha.