Daffodil Lust

I went to Trader Joes to stock up on 2 buck chuck and I was so excited by my discovery that I almost forgot to buy the wine. What got me so worked up? Daffodils.

Traders had them for 99 cents a bunch. I got 7 bunches and have vases all over the house filled with the happy yellow flowers. My nose is yellow from sticking my face in the flowers and brushing them against my face. That's about as close to sex as I get.

Police Comments

The following 15 Police Comments were taken off of actual police car videos around the country.

#15 "Relax, the handcuffs are tight because they're new. They'll stretch out after you wear them awhile."

#14 "Take your hands off the car, and I'll make your birth certificate a worthless document."

#13 "If you run, you'll only go to jail tired."

#12 "Can you run faster than 1200 feet per second? In case you didn't know, that is the average speed of a 9mm bullet fired from my gun."

#11 "So you don't know how fast you were going. I guess that means I can write anything I want on the ticket, huh?"

#10 "Yes, Sir, you can talk to the shift supervisor, but I don't think it will help. Oh. Did I mention that I am the shift supervisor?"

#9 "Warning! You want a warning? O. K., I'm warning you not to do that again or I'll give you another ticket."

#8 "The answer to this last question will determine whether you are drunk or not. Was Mickey Mouse a cat or a dog?"

#7 "Fair? You want me to be fair? Listen, fair is a place where you go to ride on rides, eat cotton candy, and step in monkey DOO."

#6 "Yeah, we have a quota. Two more tickets and my wife gets a toaster oven."

#5 "In God we trust, all others we run through NCIC."

#4 "Just how big were those two beers?"

#3 "No sir we don't have quotas anymore. We used to have quotas but now we're allowed to write as many tickets as we want."

#2 "I'm glad to hear the Chief of Police is a good personal friend of yours. At least you know someone who can post your bail."

And.................... THE BEST ONE !!!!!!!

#1 "You didn't think we give pretty women tickets? ... You're right, we don't. .... Sign here.

The Investigation

The patient is suffering from morphine delirium and believes that she is being held captive and we are plotting to kill her. I think that I've mentioned her before. She's a complete raving lunatic. She hit one nurse on the head with a phone, scratched another nurse and even called 911. She also decided to go for a walk and forgot that one leg was missing and the remaining leg was broken and badly infected. We found her sprawled on the floor and so tied her up to keep her in bed.

Well, she managed to call one of the administrators and complain about us. 911 didn't take her seriously, but administration did. A manager was appointed to investigate the complaints. If they had just opened her chart or gone in the room and talked to her, they would have seen how silly this whole situation was. Instead, the investigator wanted to talk to us, but had no idea what the complaints were. That alone, I find mind-boggling. We were expected to guess what the charges were.

One by one, I went through the list of possible complaints and asked, with an edge of sarcasm in my voice, if perhaps she was upset that we had been holding her captive or maybe she just didn't like that we were trying to kill her. Perhaps it was 911 she was annoyed with because the cops never came and arrested us.

Other nurses agreed with my assessment of the patient and I thought that would be the end of the investigation. In a normal universe it would have been, but the laws of nature don't apply here. Tonight the investigator was back and she still didn't know what the charges were. The nurses again engaged in a guessing game. There were so many things to choose from. One nurse found the patient with a pair of scissors cutting through her IV lines. She took the scissors away and the patient screamed the rest of the evening over that.

This isn't a court of law, but as a courtesy, it would be nice to know what the charges are against us. It would also be nice if someone took the time to figure out if the claims were coming from a reliable source. I understand how important patient satisfaction is, but this is ridiculous. Ever try to please a lunatic? I guess we should have let her continue to play with her scissors.

Arrow Space And Virtual Beds

One of my patients works in the arrow space industry, at least that's what his chart said. I suppose that it's possible his job involves shooting arrows into space, but I think it's more likely that he works in aerospace.

We had an empty bed that we could not use tonight. There was nothing wrong with the bed, the room or the roommate. The problem was that according to the computer, there was no bed there, therefore the bed did not exist. They wanted to give us an admission which we had to refuse because no one knew how to tell the computer that there really was a bed there. I know, it's sad, it just about broke my heart to turn down an admission.

If the problem had been the reverse and we had a virtual bed on the computer, but no real bed, I bet we would have gotten the patient. The patient could have slept in the virtual bed, i.e., the floor.

Car Washing, An Argument And Radiation

The neighbors must think that I'm mad. We got three inches of rain yesterday and during the worst of the downpour, I was washing my car. Contrary to popular opinion, rain is the perfect time to wash a car. When it's raining there is no need to dry the car. The rain rinses it clean without water spots.

Now I just need to do something about the filthy interior. There must be a quick and easy way to get dog slobber off the windows and fur, sand and dirt off the upholstery and carpet. It's tempting to open the doors and hose it out, but I would rather not short out the electronics. Well, there's not much point in cleaning it anyway. It will just dirty again.

Arriving at work, I had the unexpected pleasure of watching an argument in progress between my boss and another higher-up. It was about flowmeters. *giggle* My boss made the accusation that employees are stealing the flowmeters and selling them at flea markets. The other higher-up thought that idea was ridiculous because only hospitals have any use for flowmeters and what hospital (other than mine :) ) buys its equipment at flea markets?

The bickering continued until the higher-up on my side said that even if they are being stolen, they need to be replaced. Patients can't go without oxygen. (It's so much fun watching someone with more power and influence fight my battles.) I don't know how the problem will be resolved, but the person on my side is cozier with those at the top. This is turning out to be much more fun than I anticipated.

We have a radioactive patient in a lead-lined room and a secretary asked me if she could take a blanket into her because the patient called and said that she was cold. I told her not to go in there and that I would take care of it. She then offered to hold her breath. Again, I said no. Then she wanted to wear a paper mask. For goodness sakes, the patient is in a lead-lined room. Did she really think that holding her breath or wearing a paper mask would protect her? Some people are scary. Sweet, but scary. The patient got her blanket using proper protocol, which did not involve paper masks or holding my breath.

Fish And A Mysterious Black Hole

I get so tired of people leaving their dead fish lying around at work. Day after day, it's the same. I come to work and there it is, a dead fish lying on a counter or on top of the toaster.

There's something wrong with my camera. There is a black spot in the lower right quadrant of my photos. Cleaning the lens doesn't help. I'm getting a new camera anyway so it doesn't really matter, but I'm curious about what happened. If I did anything wrong, I would like to know so that I don't do it again with my next camera. Any ideas?

Dog Empathy

Kelsey knows that there is something wrong with Murphy. He won't leave Murph alone.

Duck, Dog and Cat Photos

Thanks, Sarah.

Oxygen Wars

I had to go to work early today for another one of those annoying meetings and found out that my new name is Oxygen. My project is to have an oxygen flow meter next to every bed. The oxygen in the walls is useless without a flowmeter to access it. The shortage is so bad that sometimes we have to take the oxygen off of patients to give it to other patients who need it more. We shouldn't have to be triaging our patients and should anything go wrong, it is a huge lawsuit waiting to happen.

So, now I'm Oxygen. Unfortunately, it is my immediate boss who is responsible for ordering flowmeters. When I discovered that nugget of information, I was tempted to find another project, but my committee leader wouldn't hear of it. But once my project was announced, flowmeters appeared like magic in the patient rooms in my unit. Then, several promptly disappeared.

My boss was upset by the theft and refused to replace them until engineering could find a way to bolt the flowmeters to the walls. I didn't see any point in bolting them to the walls. We've tried that before and it didn't work. I have personally unscrewed or yanked flowmeters out of the walls, with plaster still attached, if I had a patient who needed oxygen. Do they really think that a screw can stop a determined nurse?

To me, the real question is why do people steal flowmeters? It was suggested that there is a black market for them and employees are selling them. That makes no sense to me. They don't cost much and can only be used by institutions with oxygen pipes in the walls. When I asked, "Do you really think that Holy Cross is buying our flowmeters on the black market" everyone laughed. My belief is that other units in our hospital are stealing the flowmeters because they need them for their patients.

To try and get evidence of motive to steal, I went into every hospital room to count flowmeters. We were missing 33. It's not just my unit that has this problem, it is the whole hospital. As long as other units are short flowmeters, it will not be possible to keep my unit properly stocked because other units will just sneak in and steal them. The answer is for every bed in the hospital to have it's own flowmeter. Then, there will no longer be a motive to steal. (I hope.)

The Director of Nursing has been informed of the situation and now I'm waiting to see what happens next.

Are My Testicles Black?

A male patient is lying in bed in the hospital, wearing an oxygen mask over his mouth and nose, still heavily sedated from a difficult, four hour surgical procedure.

A young, student nurse appears to give him a partial sponge bath.

"Nurse", he mumbles, from behind the mask. "Are my testicles black?"

Embarrassed, the young nurse replies, "I don't know, Sir, I'm only here to wash your upper body and feet."

He struggles to ask again, "Nurse, are my testicles black?"

Concerned that he may elevate his vitals from worry about his testicles, she overcomes her embarrassment and sheepishly pulls back the covers. She raises his gown, holds his penis in one hand and his testicles in the other, lifting and moving them around. Then, she takes a close look and says, "There's nothing wrong with them, Sir!!

"The man pulls off his oxygen mask, smiles at her and says very slowly, "Thank you very much.That was wonderful, but, listen very, very closely......


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"A r e - m y - t e s t - r e s u l t s - b a c k?"

Tagged

I got tagged with this meme:

Accent- I have a Southern California drawl with a slight English intonation (especially when I'm upset). People are always asking me where I'm from. I'm from Southern California and England.

Booze of choice- Lately I've been drinking cabernet mixed with diet 7-up. I also like beer and sweet mixed drinks, like Mai Tais.

Chore I hate- Changing the poopy diapers of old people, especially if they have C dif.

Dog or cat- Dogs. I like cats, but not some of the things that cats do, like recreational killing.

Essential electronics- My computer and camera.

Favorite perfume- I don't wear perfume normally, but I like tuberose and gardenia scents.

Gold or silver- Gold, although I rarely wear jewelry. I just like to own it.

Hometown- I don't really have one, but I've adopted Santa Clarita.

Insomnia- Let me put it this way, if sleep were an Olympic sport, I would be in medal contention.

Job title- RN. (acute care, orthopedics)

Kids- None, but not by choice. Not having kids is my greatest sorrow, which also explains why my life revolves around my dogs.

Living arrangement- I share my house with three dogs and assorted vermin. Three fish live outside which I feel a little guilty about.

Most admired trait- Determination.

Number of sexual partners- Huh? Are you accusing me of having had sex?

Overnight hospital stays- Yes, it's that more than anything, I think, that influenced my decision to become a nurse.

Phobias- Yes, multiple. They are all related to my fear of abandonment. I take medication to control panic attacks.

Quote- I like the Nike ad of "Just do it."

Religion- I don't believe in fate, karma or divine intervention. Good things sometimes happen to bad people and bad things sometimes happen to good people. I believe that we all have free will and that what happens is largely the result of the consequences of actions with some luck mixed in.

Siblings- I have two older brothers.

Time I wake up-Around 10, give or take an hour.

Unusual talent or skill- I only have conventional skills, unless you count my ability to scare the crap out of people by just looking at them with my icy stare.

Vegetable I refuse to eat- I like all vegetables. If I refuse to eat them it is because of poor preparation.

Worst habit- Laziness, like now, for instance. The house is filthy and here I sit typing away.

X-rays- Is there anyone who has gotten through life without being irradiated?

Yummy foods I make-smoothies and salads. I can make yummier food than that, but if I do, I will eat it. I can't allow too much temptation in the house.

Zodiac sign- Gemini.

Mistaken Beliefs

I overheard a discussion between two student nurses and one was talking about why she decided to become a nurse. She had been working in an office for years and no one ever said thank you to her at the end of the day. I was waiting to hear what that had to do with becoming a nurse, but that was it. I'm guessing that she thinks that someone says thank you to nurses at the end of the day. How funny is that?
___________________________________

Many of our knee replacement patients get polar care, which is a type of cold pack treatment that keeps their knee cold after surgery to reduce swelling and pain. A few days before surgery, patients go to the clinic, pay a deposit and take the machine home with them with the plan that they will bring it to the hospital with them on the day of surgery.

It is amazing how many people forget to bring the polar care with them to the hospital. It's even more amazing how many patients say that this is our fault. They will say that no one told them that they needed to bring the polar care to the hospital with them.

Even if no one told them, how did they think that the polar care was going to get from their house to the hospital if they didn't bring it?

_______________________________________

One of the nurses got hit in the head with a phone by a patient who believed that she was being held prisoner and that the nurse was planning to kill her. (Morphine delirium is not pretty.) She also called 911. The 911 operator then called us and asked us to check on the patient. This happens fairly frequently. Little do patients know that 911 operators are in on the conspiracy to hold patients against their will.

Let's Roll

That mean @$%#&*%$# patient is gone. No, he's not dead (darn it), he just moved to another unit. All of that whining, moaning and bitching (on our part) finally paid off. The photo is of his chart. We've been using trash bags to hold the papers. Also pictured is my lovely Russian student.

Except for a couple of days in ICU, we've had him since the middle of October. Enough was enough, it was some else's turn to put up with him and his @#$%& family.

When the patient was told the news, he angrily began chanting, "I won't move." He then called his @#$%& sister, who as usual, immediately called us and began screaming. She was threatening us and making demands as to who she wanted us to call before we moved him. She expected us to call a certain doctor, on his day off, to tell him that we were moving him to a different room. Like sure, that was really going to happen.

I walked into the room with my posse and said, "Let's roll." With that, his brakes were unlocked and we began rolling him out of the room. He was still screaming, "I won't move." I tried not to smile (too much) during the moving process.

From their reaction, you would think that we were moving him to the parking lot, but all we did was move him to an identical room less than 200 feet away. While moving his belongings, I found two grocery store bags filled with cookies and candy. Now I know why we've been having such a hard time regulating his diabetes. His blood sugar levels kept swinging wildly between high and so low we kept finding him unconscious from insulin shock. The goodies must have been brought in by his sister. Sometimes it's hard to tell friend from foe. Because of his poorly controlled diabetes, he lost his sight and his kidneys are next on the list of things to fail.

Now he's someone else's problem. Lacking champagne, we had ice cream to celebrate.

Placerita Walk

Murphy and I went to Placerita Canyon. It used to be my favorite spot in the Santa Clarita Valley, but then a brush fire burned through there a year or two ago and I hadn't been back since. I didn't want to see the fire damage.

I decided to go back and it wasn't as bad as I expected. The oak trees were mostly untouched and the grass was as beautiful as ever. It's hard to believe that this is only about 5 minutes from my house.

That's Murph walking down the trail. He's so good that he can pass other people and dogs and not even acknowledge their presence.

Placerita is where gold was first discovered in California. Some of the miner's cabins still survive. Here, only the fireplace is still standing.

Murph's favorite activity is lying down in the creek. In the sandy bottom, there were tiny glints of glittering gold. I tried picking up some flecks, but they were too tiny to handle. It's illegal to pan for gold and I doubt that there is enough there to make it worthwhile, anyway.

This is what a happy dog looks like.

A Silver Lining

This morning I had to have a little something frozen off of my face. Sun and fair skin is not a good combination. When I got home, there were two urgent messages from my parents. This was unusual, my parents rarely call in between visits.

It turned out that they wanted to know if I was okay. My parents didn't know about Murphy yet, but my mother just knew that something was terribly wrong. This isn't the first time this has happened. My mother is psychic. I don't believe in psychics, but I can't deny her gifts. She was a little late, though. Her premonition was at 11 am and I got the news at 9 am.

I was crying so hard that I couldn't talk. Soon, without warning, my father showed up at my door. We sat on the patio together, drank a beer and cried together. This is only the second time I've seen my father cry. The other time was when my dog Chaucer died and again, we sat on the patio and cried in our beers.

I have such amazing parents. I also so appreciate the support that I'm getting from my blogging family. Knowing that people care has been such an enormous comfort to me.

Bad News

The vet called with bad news. Murphy has squamous cell cancer in his nasal passage. It could be treated aggressively with disfiguring surgery and chemo, but even with treatment, his prognosis is poor. Murphy is old and I don't want to put him through that. The vet said that if Murphy was his dog, he would just let him enjoy what time he has left. Murphy probably has a few weeks before he'll need to be put down.

It's at times like this that I'm sorry that I have dogs. They give me so much joy, but when they get sick and die, the pain is unbearable.

Snow Dogs

I've been patient. I've been very patient. The years have ticked by and I've waited and hoped. It used to snow here almost every winter, but it hasn't snowed since before my dogs were born. I want my dogs to see snow, so I finally took matters into my own hands. If the snow wouldn't come to my dogs, then I would bring my dogs to the snow.

Today was the big day. I loaded the dogs into the car and drove to Frasier Park. In about an hour, we were knee deep in snow. The dogs ran, jumped and plowed their way through the snow. Every once in awhile, like every twenty feet, they would sprawl in the snow to cool off.

Kelsey surprised me. Although he's smarter than some of my coworkers, he's not the smartest Golden I've ever known. But, he was the first one to figure out that snow was water. He was gulping mouthfulls of it.

We had a great time. The snow was fun, but it was nice to get home, change into dry clothes and get warm. The first thing Murphy did when he got home was to get into the pond.

Dog And Kid Photos

Losing A Brain

Nurses routinely spend time looking for their brains. The shift began with a nurse from day shift calling out, "Has anyone seen my brain?"

Someone replied, "What does it look like?"

The description did not involve any grey, squishy matter, but a piece of paper. Soon it was found to the nurse's relief.

Our brain is our report sheet where we keep our notes on our patients. None of us have good enough memories to absorb all of the information about each patient, so we have to write it down. If we lose the report sheet, we're lost. This also leads to a change of shift report consisting of the nurse just saying, "The patient's fine." When that happens, it's tempting to ask them if they lost their brain.

Floor Patient

Has anyone looked in Charles Manson's cell to see if he's missing? I think he's a patient here. A man looking just like him was found lying in the street after being hit by a car. He now belongs to us.

We don't give patients alcohol or street drugs, so he went through a brutal detox. Now he's sober and I liked him better before. He used to be fairly easy to take care of, but now he's constantly trying to get out of bed and he can't walk. Plus he's a complete raving lunatic. He's too sick to know that he's sick and we can't force psyche drugs on people.

At the beginning of the shift, we found him lying in a pile of loose stool. His hands were covered in it and everything he touched was gooey brown. Washing a poop covered homeless person while they are screaming profanities is not the most enjoyable experience I've had. I also accidently stepped in some of the poop on the floor and tracked it across the carpet. (He was my second patient tonight who played with poop. This gets old really fast.)

He also has a skin disease that makes him look like a leopard with big flakes of dry skin falling off and floating through the air. I have a photo of his skin, but decided not to post it. He also has several blood borne, incurable illnesses.

The doctor decided that it would be a good idea to tie him to a wheelchair and bring him to the nursing station. We weren't happy about sitting next to a stinky homeless person who was leaving a trail of skin flakes, but what could we do?

Because he was so agitated, we also drugged him. He almost slid out of the chair when the drugs took effect, so I picked up his legs and someone else pushed the wheelchair to get him back in his room. We weren't strong enough to get him back in the bed and so he ended up sliding onto the floor. We got the lift team to get him back into bed.

Even though he was tied up, he managed to slip out of the restraints and we found him standing next to the bed. Grabbing him, he started to collapse and once again he landed on the floor. I decided to leave him on the floor for the rest of the shift and get him back in bed before the next shift arrived. We put pillows and blankets under him and no longer had to worry about him falling. I told the house supervisor about our problems with him and she said to just leave him on the floor. Once she thought about it, though, she decided that we shouldn't do that. I wonder how the next shift is doing.

Bad Possibilities

Murphy had his nose scoped and the doctor couldn't find any foreign objects. The nasal passage was narrowed making it difficult or impossible to scope, I'm not sure which. X-rays didn't show any obstructions, but the boney areas looked slightly less dense on the affected side. X-rays are being sent to a radiologist and tissue samples to a pathologist. It will take about a week to get the results back. It could be a tumor. I'm just going to have to wait and see.

In the meantime, I'm an emotional wreck. This next week is going to be a tough one.

Colonoscopy Tales

A physician claimed that the following are actual comments made by his patients (predominately male) while he was performing their colonoscopies:

1. "Take it easy, Doc. You're boldly going where no man has gone before!"

2. "Find Amelia Earhart yet?"

3. "Can you hear me NOW?"

4. "Are we there yet? Are we there yet? Are we there yet?"

5. "You know, in Arkansas, we're now legally married."

6. "Any sign of the trapped miners, Chief?"

7. "You put your left hand in, you take your left hand out..."

8. "Hey! Now I know how a Muppet feels!"

9. "If your hand doesn't fit, you must quit!"

10. "Hey Doc, let me know if you find my dignity."

11. "You used to be an executive at Enron, didn't you?"

12. "God, Now I know why I am not gay."

And the best one of them all...

13. "Could you write a note for my wife saying that my head is not up there?"


Thanks, Dave.

Desperate Nurses

Writing fiction has never interested me. The things I see on a daily basis are so bizarre that there's no reason to make anything up. Besides, even if I wanted to write fiction, I have no idea what I would write about. But lately, there's been this story floating around in my head. It involves desperate nurses.

The details aren't worked out, but the story revolves around angelic nurses with pure hearts who plot to kill a patient. The patient is evil and sucks the life force out of the entire nursing unit with his continual wailing. He's abusive, his family is abusive and the months keep ticking by with no hope of his ever leaving the hospital.

He wouldn't be that hard to kill, but the angelic nurses aren't murderers. Instead, they hire some guys to kidnap him and take him to Mexico, or, better yet, Guatemala, and dump him on the street in some town. See if he can find his way back.

I wonder if the undocumented workers who hang out in the front of Home Depot would be willing to do it and what it would cost. Hmmm... Maybe this will be non-fiction after all.

Four Mistakes

Last night at work, we ordered Thai food. I got mint fried pork on rice. When asked how hot I wanted it, I responded moderate. That was my first mistake. There was a bit of a language barrier and given the neighborhood, she may have thought that I said mucho or mas. I could be wrong, but I'm reasonably sure that I didn't request colon flushing, spincter burning hot, but that is what I got.

I like spicy food and have a fairly high tolerance for heat, but this was positively lethal. I ate it anyway. That was my second mistake. I got about half of it down before I gave up. I brought the rest home with me, figuring that I could dilute it with something to make it edible.

This morning I got up earlier than I would have liked because my body, apparently thinking that I had swallowed poison, was trying to rid my body of the toxin. Without going into detail, the ridding process was not much fun. On the plus side, I couldn't have absorbed many calories from the food.

For lunch, I made a large batch of rice, stir-fried some vegetables and mixed it in with the left-over dinner. That was my third mistake. No amount of bland food could counter-act the heat in the original dish. I ate it anyway. That was my fourth mistake. Now I have to go to work. The pain is just starting.

Woman Bending Over

This is another sketch by my friend Sandy. Please keep them coming, Sandy. I love this stuff.

Shaking Hands And A Scary Thing

While being introduced to my patient, he held out his hand. Of course, I extended my hand to shake his. Just as our hands met, I heard two nurses hiss in unison, "Don't shake his hand."
It was too late. I was shaking a bloody hand with my bare hand.

The patient had pulled out his catheter earlier and he wouldn't stop playing with his bloody penis. So, not only did I touch blood, but urine and penis juice as well. With my bare hand.

___________________________________

I was standing next to a coworker when she suddenly gasped, "What is that?" Looking down, I shrieked and ran. What scared us so badly? A purple cap from a syringe rolling across the floor. Once it stopped, it was obvious what it was, but while rolling, it looked like a mouse. I don't care that it was purple. It looked like a mouse. Okay? And no, we have not been dipping into the narcotics.

A New Hobby

I have a new hobby. It's not a hobby I enjoy. I would like to stop, but don't know how. So, what's my new hobby? Looking for things.

I wanted to go somewhere, but my purse was missing. It had to be in the house. It wasn't on the table where I always keep it, so I was wandering in circles looking. I expanded my search to the car and garage. It was nowhere. Happening to look down, there was something hot pink dangling from my arm. It was my purse.

A few days ago the same thing happened with my keys, only that time I hung them up with the dog leads in the closet. I must have spent a half hour looking under every bush in the yard and combing the hillside. I figured that Murphy must have carried them outside.

A week ago I was looking for my glasses. I found them on top of my head.

I have more examples, but I think that you get the idea. I would have so much more free time if I could find a new hobby.

Dog Day Afternoon

This was the view coming home today. I live at the base of the snow covered mountains. The snow elevation was about 500 feet above where I live. Close, but not close enough.



The Santa Clara River is close to my house. If it weren't for the freeway in the way, I could walk there in a couple of minutes. Because of the freeway, I need to drive a mile or so to find a place where I can drive under the freeway. I'm not sure why it's called a river, since years can go by without water in it, but river sounds nice, as opposed to the Santa Clara Rocky and Sandy Area With Burrs.

I went to work early today and got out at about noon. It was a beautiful day, there was water in the river, so it seemed like a perfect time to do something special for the dogs.

Besides, Murphy has some kind of foreign object caught in his nose and has to have some minor surgery on Friday to remove it. He deserves a special treat to help make up for what is coming.




Murphy is doing what he does at home in his pond. Just sitting down and lounging. The water is icy cold, which is fine with Murph.

I feel terrible about this, but Tommy (on the right) has never seen a natural body of water before. Tommy hates water so I expected him to just walk along the banks, but to my surprise, he ran right into the water. Who knew that my little frou frou dog was a water dog?

Are these happy looking dogs or what? You should see what the inside of my car looks like.

Seeing Red Flags

I told my parents all about my date with Randy, going into tons of detail that I left out of the original post. I expected them to be relieved that I got home safely and to tell me never to go out with him again. Instead, they thought that he sounded great. I was stunned.

When I said that I was worried that he might be hot-headed, my dad said that "your old man is hot-headed too." Okay, he got me there. He said that since Randy is 45, the worst would be over by now. And besides, compared to me, everyone is hot-headed. There's some truth in that as well. I'm cool-headed my nature and don't react in anger. My parents used the term passive.

I suspect that my parents are either trying to marry me off or they just like the idea of me being with an alpha man who can take charge and fight my battles. The thing is, I do a good job of taking care of myself. If a man did start trying to take control of my life, it would not go over well. I'm fiercely independent, but I'm nice about it.

But the problem is, I can't trust my judgment when it comes to men. I see red warning flags with every man I meet. They can't all be bad. Randy has called me twice since our date, but has not asked me out yet. I will give him another chance if he asks. Maybe I should get some therapy before he notices how neurotic I am.

See Through Butterflies

Thank God It's Over

What does it mean when your date is packing heat for a simple dinner date? One possibility is that you're dating a cop. That's why Randy had his gun with him, not that he showed it to me. Maybe someday.

There were some surprises. He had no idea that I was a lawyer and I had no idea that he had an MBA. I was also surprised to learn that he was 4 and a half years younger. He already knew that before the date and didn't mind. If he doesn't mind, than I don't mind.

The date wasn't perfect, though. I heard much more than I cared to know on a first date about his bitter divorce and career set-backs. I don't normally discuss such things at all and when he tried to find out more about my marriage and bitter divorce, I almost started crying. There's a reason why I avoid that subject.

I noticed that he was an aggressive driver who got too easily upset by other people's driving. He even got into a racing and honking match with another driver over nothing important. He also became agitated when we didn't get our table when promised. None of these things bothered me at all, except for his reaction to them. I'm concerned that he may be a hot-head.

I'm sure that he has some beefs with me too. I am too quiet and hard to get to know. He kept asking what I was thinking, but I couldn't give him much of an answer. I was mainly trying to control my rising panic over being out with a man. I wasn't going to tell him that.

If he asks me out again, I will go, but I still have some doubts about him, as I'm sure he does about me. On the plus side, his dog and cat sleep in bed with him and he was also a perfect gentleman. Not that such things matter to me, but he's also tall and gorgeous.

If things do work out, this post will be deleted. My neroticism may be causing me to read too much into what I saw. So, there you have it. I have no idea where this is going, if anywhere. Now, what did I do with my xanax?

Cold, Colder and Coldest

Doesn't my hospital have a heater? True, the temperature has dropped outside and it's really, really cold. But why does the hospital have to be the same temperature as outside? That's why heaters were invented. Why can't we have one too?

Driving home, I was so cold I felt like I was going to die. It takes time for the heater to kick in, but this was ridiculous. I was half-way home when I discovered the problem. The air conditioner was on full blast. Force of habit, I guess.

Now that I'm home, I'm still freezing. It's in the upper 30's outside and raining. A few miles away it's snowing. With a little luck, the snow level may drop to here. I would like my dogs to see snow.

With a little more luck, my first date with Randy will go well. It's Saturday night.

Spewing Supine And Penis Poking

Vomiting while lying flat on one's back is dangerous. It's east to aspirate (inhale) the vomit, which could result in pneumonia and even death. So when I heard retching sounds and saw my patient vomiting while lying flat on her back, I lunged for the bed controls to raise the head of her bed up. In between heaves she screamed to lower the bed back down. She was alert and oriented, so I had to do what she said after arguing with her for a little bit.

My next plan was to roll her over on her side, but when I tried that she screamed at me to not touch her. Again, I had to do what she said. Patients have the right to not be touched or to refuse treatment even when it's a stupid choice. People have the right to be stupid.

All I could do was watch her puke and make suggestions. She was throwing up chunks of what looked like dog kibble mixed with green bile. Since she hadn't eaten for over 12 hours in preparation for surgery, this was odd. Don't ask me what the chunks were. How should I know? I sent her to surgery like that after informing anesthesia. After that it was their problem.

Another patient came back from ankle surgery complaining that his penis and testicles were numb. He had a spinal, so numbness wouldn't have been unusual except that he had already regained complete feeling in his legs and everywhere else. It is not typical for the genitals to be the last body-part to regain sensation. Of course, he was anxious about this. Anesthesia was called.

The anesthesiologist came up, probably worried about a huge malpractice suit, to see the patient. I don't know what he did, but the patient felt it. He felt it really well. After that he needed morphine. I bet he never complains of numb genitals again.

Curve Signaler And Death Wish

Like most parking garages, the one at our hospital winds around in circles. I was stuck behind someone driving at a snail's pace looking for a parking spot. Little old ladies with walkers were passing us. No, not really, but that's how it felt. There was no getting around her.

As my annoyance grew, I noticed that she was using her turn signals for every turn. Why was she doing this? Our options were either to turn or drive into the wall. There were no other options. I wonder if she also uses turn signals on curved roads?

Once I got up to the floor, I got some great news. The day shift secretary could barely contain her joy as she told me the news. K., the patient from Hell, who has been living with us for nearly a year got transferred to ICU. This is the SOB who is abusive, but we can't get rid of him because no other place will put up with him. If it were legal, we would dump him on the sidewalk or over the balcony, whichever was faster and easier. There would be no shortage of nurses willing to volunteer to help. Heck, nurses would even come in on their day off without pay to finish him off. He has driven us half mad.

So, anyway, back to the good news, during the night his blood pressure suddenly dropped and labs showed that he was losing blood from some unknown source. (I wonder if they checked to see if there was a dagger in his back.) He had to go to ICU. *giggle*

As the evening shift arrived, one of the day shift nurses told them that K. died during the night. Everyone's eyes opened wide, mouths dropped open with the corners curled up. It was the look of someone who had just won the lottery. There was some disappointment when they learned that he was only seriously ill, as opposed to dead, but there's still hope. The important thing is that he's gone. And, we're going to be very careful to keep all of our private rooms filled so that we can't get him back.

What does it say about us that we're disappointed that someone is still alive? What does it say about K. that so many otherwise nice people want him dead?

Animal Pictures

Thanks, Sarah.

Party Animals

The kids had a party while I was at work. Don't be fooled by little Tom Tom sitting next to the empty pillow. He didn't do it. It had to be Murph, my cover dog. He may be 9 years old, but he still thinks that he's a puppy.

Mouse And Cell Phone Conversations

My mouse has been driving me absolutely nuts. It didn't matter how many times I took it apart and cleaned it, the stupid ball would get stuck. Sometimes I had to swirl it around in circles to get to the right spot. I knew that it didn't have to be this way, so I went to Radio Shack.

The salesman was good. Even though I am older than him, he called me Miss. Smart man. When he found out that I knew nothing about mouses (mice?) he showed me the different types and explained what they could do. I didn't know that it was possible to have a ball-less mouse and the scroll feature is so much easier and faster.

I'm so happy with my new mouse. It's also cute with its little green light. Who knew that I could be this happy with something that plugs in?

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During my shopping adventures, I had no choice but to listen to other people's cell phone conversations. One man was having an emotional fight with his wife or girlfriend and saying things like nurturing and love isn't enough. "What's it going to take"? Did he think that everyone else in line wanted to hear this?

In another line, a woman was asking how long she needed to wait to get pregnant.

Another woman on her cell was fighting with her pharmacy over whether or not her insurance had been cancelled and how much she needed her percocet and morphine. I hope the pharmacy gave it to her. She looked like she really needed it.

What's wrong with people? And why do people talking on cell phones tend to talk so loudly?

Wet Sheets And Misunderstandings

I got my least favorite kind of patient assignment last night, a ward with four old women. Why is it that so many older women are incontinent and have to pee about every five minutes? All four patients were recovering from hip surgery, could not walk or even roll over.

They were diapered so the bed wouldn't get soaked every time they coughed, sneezed or puked, but they used the bedpan in between accidents. Their arms were too weak to use the trapeze to lift up their bottoms, so I had to do all of the work to wedge the bedpans under them and remove them. They were also fleshy, so the butt fat oozed into the bedpan leaving no room for pee. The pee would then overflow the pan and wet the sheets. I was tempted to tell them to just pee in the diaper, but that rarely goes over well. So, I just spent the evening going from bed to bed, changing sheets and diapers. If doctors had to take care of their patients, they would order catheters for all of them.

It could have been worse, though. At least they didn't all have watery diarrhea. I've had nights like that too. I always try to look on the bright side.

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During change of shift report, I was told that my patient had faggots disease. This was new to me. I wasn't aware that this was a disease and the terminology seemed derogatory somehow. I asked her to write it down, so that I could see the spelling. She wrote Pagets. Pagets is a bone disease as opposed to a sexual orientation.

Later, a coworker mentioned that she brought some pood from home. This time I didn't laugh. I know what pood is. Some people call it food.

Busted, No Pants And Poop

She had her nerve showing up. It's the weekend and she should have been home, but our boss decided to come to work. She caught us all doing nothing. I was in a dark, empty room watching the Oscars. A coworker had her feet on the desk and was reading a novel. Others were sitting around chatting and eating. I was in charge and this was the kind of ship I run. At least she didn't say anything. I don't think that she's totally unfamiliar with the concept of doing nothing either.

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A patient who had been involved in a car accident came up to our floor from ER and I asked an aide to do an inventory of his belongings. He had the usual stuff, a top, jacket, shoes, etc., but he had no pants. The aide was upset by this. I don't know if she thought that he had been going around without pants or what. I explained that ER probably cut off his pants and threw them away.

Hopefully, when he's discharged, a family member will bring some pants for him. Patients, especially young males, hate leaving in a gown. It threatens their shaky masculinity to wear anything that resembles a backless dress.

When I admitted him, I had to ask the routine questions, which includes asking when he had his last bowel movement. He didn't know what this meant and English was his first and only language. When I rephrased the question to ask him when he last pooped, he got it. I'm glad he knew what poop was. I wasn't looking forward to going down the entire list of slang words until I found one he knew.

Party Food And Euthanasia

One of the day shift nurses celebrated her birthday today. We got the left-overs. There was the usual party food, pizza, tortilla chips, dip, cake and boiled rice. Because of a lack of counter space, we were using the trash can as a table. That's where the cake and pizza were. For some reason, housekeeping thought that because the food was on a trash can, it was trash. They not only threw it out, they took the trash bag so we couldn't even dig it out and retrieve it. Thank God the plain, boiled rice was okay.

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We had a terminally ill patient who we were struggling to keep comfortable without killing him with the morphine. It's not an easy balance to strike. Night shift gave him a little too much morphine and his respirations went down to 4 per minute. He was given narcan, which is the antidote to morphine, and he recovered enough to continue the dying process.

His wife was angry. She didn't mind that we overdosed him, she was upset that we reversed it. She said the next time we overdose him, to let him die. Fortunately, she took him home before we got to overdose him again, but it does present an interesting issue. He was a DNR, meaning, do not resuscitate, but does that mean we shouldn't correct our mistakes? If we make a mistake and just watch a patient die, that sounds like euthanasia.

On the other hand, I do see her point. We're not letting him die. Now that she is in charge of his meds, I'll be surprised if he survives the night.

Death Cruise

I got this brochure in the mail for a lavish, tax-deductible cruise to Alaska. The only catch is that you have to listen to lectures all day on death and dying.

The people in the photo look so happy. I bet they didn't have to attend depressing death talks. I think that I'll pass on this one.

A Bad Influence And Lotta Snots

I have a new student nurse who I'll be preceptoring for about a month. She's a young, beautiful, blonde Russian girl. I love having slaves students. At first they increase the workload, but once they catch on, I have almost nothing to do. I can read and write for hours and just answer the occasional question. It's great to have a break from the drudgery for a month. Sorry, I have a lazy streak.

I also take pleasure in teaching students the correct way to do things and the way we actually do them. There is a difference. I show them short-cuts, organizing tips, coping/defense mechanisms and ways to break the rules without getting caught. I'm a bad influence, but we have a lot of fun.

My students also, so far, have had lives completely different from mine. I love hearing their stories. My last two students were in show business and had great tales. It's too bad I didn't have a blog then to share them. My memory now is too hazy.

My current student is pretty enough to be on the cover of a magazine, but like many Russians, she doesn't smile much. I'm going to break her of that even if I have to tickle her. We have to at least pretend that we're having fun. I just love it when the students arrive.

Being around someone so young and pretty is a little hard, though. It's a constant reminder that I'm not. Don't be fooled by my pictures. I'm photogenic.

We had a male patient who needed to be catheterized. Knowing that my student was leaving earlier than me, he said that I could do it after she left. He didn't want a young pretty girl watching, but he didn't mind me.

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One of my coworkers went to a computer training class and mentioned that the program she was trained on was lotta snots. Her accent is heavy, so I asked her to repeat it several times. Each time she said lotta snots. Not believing that my employer would use a program called lotta snots, I asked her to get on the computer and show me. It was Lotus Notes.

Artist Friend

My friend Sandy is an artist, in addition to being a fed-up attorney who is trying to phase out her practice. This is a sketch by Sandy. I hope that more are sent my way.

Blow-Out

Something wasn't right. My car was making strange sounds, so I turned up the volume of the radio to drown out the noise. I figured that if I couldn't hear it, then it didn't exist. You do you realize that I am a blonde?

The noise was still drowning out the radio, so fighting panic, I told myself that I would make it home and deal with my car in the morning. I didn't want to consider the prospect of being broken down on a freeway in the middle of the night. That's dangerous enough, but being a woman in such a circumstance presents its own special hazards.

A few seconds later, I knew that I wasn't going to make it home. If I made it off the freeway, I would be lucky. I could feel a tire shredding apart. Pulling over to the right, I limped along slowly hoping that no one would rear-end me. Eventually, I found an off-ramp in a section of the Valley that I wasn't familiar with. Next to the freeway were some homes with barred windows and cars parked out front, so, that is where I stopped. I figured that it would be safer if it looked like I was parked, as opposed to being broken down and defenseless.

Auto Club came fairly quickly, changed my tire and got me on the road again. The problem now was that I had no idea where I was or how to get home. I was next to the freeway, but there was no onramp.

I just started driving, figuring that I was bound to cross a major road that I had heard of. Within a couple of minutes I came to Van Nuys Boulevard, which was fine. That would take me in the general direction I wanted to go. After driving several miles it suddenly occurred to me that I was almost to Sarah's house. As much as I like Sarah, that is not where I meant to go. I had been driving South instead of North. In the daytime that would not have happened, but at night I couldn't see the mountains that I need for navigation. How do people know which way is North if they can't see the mountains?

After a few more false turns, I did make it home safely, although an hour and a half late. The dogs were not happy about that. In case you didn't know, dogs can tell time.

The next morning, I went to Costco to get a new tire. My tires were still fairly new with plenty of tread on them, so I only needed one. I ended up buying four because they couldn't match the tires I already had and unlike accessories, tires shouldn't be mixed and matched. So, my car has new shoes and I have more grey hairs.

Brain Cramps

(On September 17, 1994, Alabama's Heather Whitestone was selected as Miss America 1995.)

Question: If you could live forever, would you and why?

Answer: "I would not live forever, because we should not live forever, because if we were supposed to live forever, then we would live forever, but we cannot live forever, which is why I would not live forever,"

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Whenever I watch TV and see those poor starving kids all over the world, I can't help but cry. I mean I'd love to be skinny like that, but not with all those flies and death and stuff."

--Mariah Carey

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"Smoking kills. If you're killed, you've lost a very important part of your life,"

--Brooke Shields, during an interview to become spokesperson for federal anti-smoking campaign.

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"I've never had major knee surgery on any other part of my body,"

--Winston Bennett, University of Kentucky basketball forward.

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"Outside of the killings, Washington has one of the lowest crime rates in the country,"

--Mayor Marion Barry, Washington, DC.

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"I'm not going to have some reporters pawing through our papers. We are the president."

--Hillary Clinton commenting on the release of subpoenaed documents.

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"That lowdown scoundrel deserves to be kicked to death by a jackass, and I'm just the one to do it,"

--A congressional candidate in Texas.

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"Half this game is ninety percent mental."

--Philadelphia Phillies manager, Danny Ozark

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"It isn't pollution that's harming the environment. It's the impurities in our air and water that are doing it."

--Al Gore, Vice President

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"I love California. I practically grew up in Phoenix."

--Dan Quayle

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"We've got to pause and ask ourselves: How much clean air do we need?"

--Lee Iacocca

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"The word "genius" isn't applicable in football. A genius is a guy like Norman Einstein."

--Joe Theisman, NFL football quarterback &sports analyst.

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"We don't necessarily discriminate. We simply exclude certain types of people."

--Colonel Gerald Wellman, ROTC Instrutor.

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"If we don't succeed, we run the risk of failure."

--Bill Clinton, President

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"We are ready for an unforeseen event that may or may not occur."

--Al Gore, VP

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"Traditionally, most of Australia's imports come from overseas."

--Keppel Enderbery

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"Your food stamps will be stopped effective March 1992 because we received notice that you passed away. May God bless you. You may reapply if there is a change in your circumstances."

--Department of Social Services, Greenville, South Carolina

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"If somebody has a bad heart, they can plug this jack in at night as they go to bed and it will monitor their heart throughout the night. And the next morning, whenthey wake up dead, there'll be a record."

--Mark S. Fowler, FCC Chairman

Thanks, Scott

Diaper Argument

My most annoying encounter with a patient yesterday was at the beginning of the shift when I went in to introduce myself. Day shift had once again waited until the end of their shift to give a laxative suppository and the patient needed a bedpan. I lifted up the sheets and found a heavy, wet diaper. Not saying a word about it, I unfastened it and slid a bedpan under him.

A few minutes later, he used his call light. I came in the room and asked if he was done. With fire in his eyes, he said, "I was not wearing a diaper."

I had never mentioned the diaper and didn't know why this was an issue. Unsure of how to proceed, I started to answer that he was wearing a diaper.

Cutting me off in mid-sentence, he barked, "I was not wearing a diaper."

This time I said, "Okay."

He went into a long, drawn-out rant regarding why I was mistaken that he was wearing a diaper. Each time he paused, I said, "Okay." There was no point in arguing with him, it would have just added fuel to the fire. After about a dozen "okays", he was done and I left. But he was still on the bedpan.

After awhile, I went back in and asked if he was done with the bedpan. He said that he didn't know and that I would have to look. I looked and there was something in there, but how was I supposed to know if he was done? I was not going to look in his rectum and see if there was more in there. I decided to tell him that he was done and took him off the bedpan. After I did that, he asked, "Was I wearing a diaper?"

Was this a trap? I held my breath and said, "Yes."

He said, "Okay."

I asked if I could put a clean one on him. He said, "Okay."

This is where I wanted to start screaming and run from the room. What the hell was that all about?