Magic Mountain Day

I premedicated myself with three Advil, but it wasn't enough. Getting old so sucks, but there was no way that pain was going to interfere with the mission. It was time for the annual Magic Mountain trip with Scott. Hopefully, it won't be the last one. Magic Mountain's future is still uncertain. But as long as there is a Magic Mountain, Scott and I are going to drag our sore, battered bodies on the rides, even if we someday have to bring our bring our walkers, canes or wheelchairs.

The day started out fine. We were just arriving when I got my picture taken with this bizarre little creature. Does anyone know what that is? I could have gotten my picture taken with Bugs Bunny, but he had a line. It was faster to get my photo with this strange character, plus I felt a little sorry for him/her.

This is Tatsu above. It's the newest ride. It involves lying on your stomach while suspended from a track and flying head first down nearly vertical track. Of course, it has the usual loops and turns. I got nervous for nothing. It wasn't as bad as it looked.

There is a reason why we were among the few elderly people at the park. (By Magic Mountain standards, we're elderly.) These rides are killers.

The G forces on one ride caused me to black out. I didn't lose consciousness, I just couldn't see beyond the darkness.

My privates are bruised from a stand up roller coaster. The harness locked in the wrong position and I had to ride while standing on my toes. If the G forces knocked me off my toes, I got it in the crotch.

My ears hurt from being tossed against the head harnesses.

I had a mild headache all day which didn't bother me until I got on the rides. Then, the blood rushing to my head hurt so badly that I needed to scream. Thank goodness it was socially acceptable, encouraged even.

I heard Scott's neck snap on one ride, followed by an owwww.... How's your neck today, Scott? Scott also needs to replace his cell phone. It flew away during some negative G's.

The ironic thing is that I really prefer the older tamer rides, like Ninja, but insist on riding the newest, most challenging rides instead. I'm not sure why that is. Maybe it's not wanting to admit defeat with the aging thing or maybe it's not wanting to miss out on rides that we may never get to ride again. Maybe I want to face the fear and win. At least I didn't suffer the ultimate humiliation and ever take the chicken exit out.

Nausea was somewhat of a problem, but other people had it worse. On one ride, everyone was ordered off the cars. It was then sent through the ride twice while empty. We couldn't imagine what was going on. Next some kid donned gloves and wiped down one of the seats, while his coworkers watched and cringed. It was then sent through the ride again, presumable to dry. I'm guessing it was vomit, but it could have been pee.

On another ride while we were strapped in and waiting to go, some kid with a screw driver started tightening screws near my seat. That didn't exactly fill me with confidence, but they said that my seat has only flown off twice in the past, so that made me feel so much better.

Why do I do this? Oh yeah, now I remember. It's fun.

Dirty Bed And A Truffle

What a day to leave my camera at home. A coworker told me to go in one of the rooms and look at a bed that was ready for a new patient. The first thing I noticed was a pair of dirty socks hanging from the trapeze. That was enough to amuse me for the day, but there was more. The foot board was splashed with blood.

Housekeeping hadn't even made a good faith effort to clean the bed. The only thing they did was change the sheets, if that. Even if the housekeeper forgot to wipe down the bed, how could he fail to notice the dirty socks? No wonder infections are rampant.

---

Some visitors wanted to know if I knew that there was a man on the floor. This was news to me, so I asked where. They pointed into one of the rooms, so I rushed over and sure enough, there was a man on the floor. Not only that, but he was naked and lying on his back.

Have you ever known a dog that has that "oh, there's manure, I must roll in it" instinct? This patient had that same odd instinct. He had pooped, rolled in it and just to be extra thorough, had rubbed it on his hands and arms. He looked like a truffle.

My coworkers were anxious to get him back in bed immediately, but I wanted to wash him first. I just knew there was no way we could pick him up without getting that mess on us. Have you ever tried to pick up a 160 pound wet noodle covered in poo? There was just no way I was going to even try.

I got a basin of water and started scrubbing him and splashing him with soapy water. He wasn't happy because the water was cold. Well, I wasn't happy because he was lying on the floor covered in poo. So there. (The water wasn't really cold, it just wasn't warm.)

By the time he was clean and dry, the lift team arrived and put him back in bed. When asked how he ended up on the floor, the patient answered that he was trying to jump out the window and missed. I'll say. He wasn't even close. Next time we need to put him closer to the window. (Just kidding.)

A Cold Purse

I had some trouble finding my purse at work. It was where I had put it, in the refridgerator.

I also gave myself an IV bag shower. I change the tubing on bags all the time without thinking about it. This time I should have given it some more thought. I forgot to turn the bag upside down before removing the tubing, so the fluid came pouring out the hole when the tubing was removed. Of course the patient and her entire family were watching me do this.

At least I took care of all of my patients. One nurse didn't get her assignment right and her patient went without a nurse for half of the shift.

It turns out that I didn't have a hangover or food poisoning, I'm just sick. Most of the people at work are now sick and are doing a nice job of sharing their germs. Management has cracked down so hard on calling in sick that people would rather come to work sick then stay home and later be called into the office.

This illness seems to affect people's IQ, so I'm wondering what other stupid things I and my coworkers will do tonight. Poor patients.

Before And After

Do you like my hat? Target shopping bags make nice hats if you want to deep condition your hair. It was fine until I decided to wash my car in front of the house. The neighbors must wonder about me, if they didn't already. Oh, how I suffer in the name of beauty.

This is after the bag comes off. This is why women spend so much time on hair and make up.

Last night was the awards banquet at work and my dad was my date. He's the only person I know who isn't afraid of my driving. In fact, he praised me for being a good driver. I'm careful and not aggressive, but if I see the opportunity to have some fun, I take it. As a former fighter pilot, he appreciates a little thrill now and then. Like father, like daughter.

The dinner and show was nice, professionally done and must have cost a ton of money. There were over 600 people present and I saw fewer than five people that I know. I'm sure glad that I had my dad there to talk to.

I wore what was going to be my divorce dress. It was the sexiest dress I could find that would still be appropriate for court. It says, "Eat your heart out, bastard." The day of the hearing was freezing cold, so I wore something else instead. The dress worked out fine for the dinner last night, although it was once again just a dress, not a message to anyone.

I'm nursing a hangover today. I didn't drink that much and was never impaired, but I have such a low tolerance for alcohol, that even two glasses of wine has made me sick. Just the thought of alcohol makes me gag. Or maybe I got food poisoning. Thinking of that mushy fish also makes me want to wretch . And there was that unpleasant episode in the bathroom. Either way, I still have to go to work today, so it's going to be a dry toast and crackers day.

Hair Neurosis

At the beginning of the shift, I walked into the patient's room to meet her for the first time. Looking at me with shock and disgust, she said, "What did you do to your hair?"

The patient was confused, so I just smiled. The patient's daughter looked embarrassed and said that she probably thought that I was her other daughter because we're both blondes.

The more I thought about this, the more insecure I became. Is my hair so awful looking that she would be mad at her daughter if her hair looked like mine? I did get it cut recently and no one has said a word about it, not even my mom. I'm not sure if it's because no one noticed or if it's because it looks so bad that no one wants to say anything.

My brooding neroticism getting the best of me, I couldn't wait for the other daughter to show up. I just had to see her hair to try and figure out what was wrong with mine. Later, when she walked in, I knew who she was immediately by her hair.

My hair is slightly lighter and hers is a little longer, but basically we have identical hairstyles. So, what is wrong with mine? I couldn't let it go. I went from coworker to coworker and told them the story and asked them to compare our hair. They must think I'm insane, and maybe just to appease me, they all said that we have basically the same hair.

I'm still not satisfied. I wish that the patient wasn't confused so that I could ask her what is wrong with my hair. Maybe tomorrow I'll pull it back in a bun. Or maybe I just need to comb it more than once a day. Or maybe it's time to adjust my medication.

The Calm Before The Storm

Theirs And Mine

The boys got to visit their granddogs today. Of course they were excited and running in circles when I opened the door to the garage. They then ran straight for my car and started jumping against it with their claws.

The boys have their own car, a station wagon, and if they want to scratch it, I don't care. It's their business if they want to ride around in a scratched car, but I want them to leave my car alone. Is that too much to ask?

Wind And Fire

The wind brings and it takes away. Kelsey found a Pizza Hut jacket in the back yard. At least I think the wind blew it in. Maybe the dogs found an intruder in the back yard and the jacket is all that is left of him. I don't really care about any of that. I just want to know where the pizza is.

There was also a patio umbrella in my yard. Having no use for either the jacket or umbrella, I tossed both over the wall that is upwind from me. If it's not that neighbor's stuff, then it can be tossed over their wall and the wall after that until the owner is found. Hey, it could work.

The wind also took away some of my skin, not directly, but in a totally foreseeable manner, I think. I lost half of a large tree in the wind. Trying to wrestle the broken part of the tree onto the lawn, a branch broke, sending me flying into an apple tree. The scrapes on my arm were the result.

On the bright side, the apple tree is now in full sun, so maybe it will actually produce fruit next year.




For the last couple of weeks off to the north and west, it's looked like the world is coming to an end. The smoke from the Day fire has been ominously hanging over our heads. This picture was taken the first day or two of the fire when it was still just a baby.

It hasn't affected me directly, except for a couple of days when traffic was diverted from the 5 to the 14. All of the huge trucks that normally travel the 5 were on my little 14 where they don't belong. It was annoying, but not blog worthy.

Today, I had the incredible luxury of an afternoon nap and woke up to helicopters. Lots of them. That's not something I can easily ignore, so I got up, went outside and looked around. I couldn't see a fire, there was a hill in the way, but I could see that the helicopters appeared to be near Placerita Canyon. The news later confirmed that Placerita Canyon was once again on fire and people were being evacuated.

I once considered buying a house in Placerita Canyon. The house I was shown looked like a darling mountain cabin in a small residential tract and was surrounded my miles of brush and trees with only one small road leading to civilization. It struck me as being too dangerous and I didn't want to have to worry about fires starting when I'm not home and unable to rescue my dogs. Once a road is closed, no one is allowed back in for any reason. It's that particular housing tract that is now being evacuated. I think that I made a good decision.

Even though it's now dark, the helicopters are still flying. That's unusual. Flying in the dark through hilly terrain and high power lines is incredibly dangerous. I guess it has been decided there's not much choice. Much of the area is hilly and inaccessible to ground crews.

Yeah, I think that I made a really good decision not to buy in Placerita.

Streaming Stoma

He would have been much better off if we had left his butt alone, but like a good patient, he agreed to a routine colonoscopy. As often happens, a benign polyp was found and removed. To make sure that it didn't return, another colonoscopy was done. The polyp was back and so was once again removed. It was still benign. The process was repeated I don't know how many times until it was decided that a section of the uncooperative colon needed to be removed and sewn back together again. Looking back with 20/20 hindsight, this was not a good idea.

After the surgery, he was discharged home and almost immediately began to have problems with partially digested food coming out the incision in his abdomen. Did I forget to mention that somehow the incision burst open?

Having poop floating around loose in the abdominal cavity and oozing out a wound is never a good thing. He nearly died from septic shock and spent some time in a coma while a vent breathed for him, but he is doing much better now. He is still pooping out his abdomen, but now it's going safely into an ileostomy bag.

So much of his colon has been diverted that few if any nutrients are being absorbed by what is left of his digestive tract. His stoma emptied nearly 4 liters of liquid stool during our 8 hour shift alone. That is a lot of s... and he is losing electrolytes as fast as we can replace them. He is one sick dude.

His polyps were never cancerous, although there is the possibility that they could have turned cancerous someday. Given that he's in his eighties, the better approach may have been to do nothing, but it's easy for me to say that because I know how badly things turned out. It's too bad that decisions have to be made without first knowing how things will turn out.

I Don't Care If It Worked For Napoleon

This board has appeared at work. This can't be good. I have vague recollections of getting stars on a board when I was a kid, but that all stopped before my teen years.

I can't believe that at age fifty, I'm once again faced with getting a star on a board. I think it's demeaning, although not everyone feels that way. A few chipper fools seem to think it's just fine, but most people I've talked to just roll their eyes in reaction to the board.

Napoleon noticed that men will risk their lives in battle for a little piece of ribbon. If men are willing to risk death in order to wear a little piece of ribbon proudly on their chest, I can see how my employer thought that we might bust our butts in order to get a star on a board. It might have worked for Napoleon, but I'm not falling for it.

I already work hard at my job and a star will not motivate me to try even harder. This board feels like an insult to my intelligence.

A Murder Mystery

This is the plot line. The story takes place in a board and care where several old, frail people live with one lovely young woman. (No, this isn't about Snow White.) One day a resident with severe dementia is brought to the hospital with a broken hip. The hip is surgically repaired, but as so often happens with people in their nineties, he developed pneumonia and is not responding to treatment. Death is imminent.

The young woman from the board and care visits the old man in the hospital every day. She often cries and is beside herself with grief over the man's impending death. She strikes up a friendship with the daughter and they spend hours a day sitting together in his room, trying to comfort each other.

The young woman one day can't stand it anymore and needs to clear her conscience. She tells the daughter that her father didn't fall, but was pushed by an employee at the home. She witnessed the act and has also seen other residents pushed resulting in broken hips.

That day, the woman goes home to the board and care and suffers "a fall." She is now in a coma at another hospital. Is this a coincidence or did the people at the board and care find out that she ratted them out?

Doesn't this sound like the bad plot for a murder mystery? This is the story that the day shift nurses told us.

A social worker was asked to investigate. The actual story isn't nearly as interesting. The young woman had suffered a head injury and been in a coma, but that happened several years ago. The old man hadn't been pushed, but had gotten into a struggle with a nurse who was trying to keep him from escaping. While wrestling with the door, the old man lost his balance and fell. It was an accident. End of story.

Funny Fan

Something awful happened when I was getting ready for bed. I turned on my bedroom fan and it didn't work. Of course I checked the connections, settings and even other outlets, but it was dead. I can't sleep without my fan.

On all but the coldest nights, I have the bedroom window open. If the window is open, the fan must be on. The sound of the fountain and freeway drives me nuts, so the fan is necessary to buffer the noise.

My project on my day off was to buy another fan that would fit in the window. It sounded to me like a simple assignment. Since I got my last fan at Home Depot, that was where I went to try and buy a replacement. No luck. Fans are a seasonal item and are not sold this time of year. I did find a nice new rug for my kitchen, though. It's the color of mud which should work out well.

Surely Target would sell fans, I thought. Lots of people use fans year-round and don't they know that the weather will stay mostly warm until Christmas? This is Southern California for goodness sakes. No fans. But I did find some pretty dog collars. Poor Tommy is now wearing a pink jeweled collar.

My next stop was Trader Joes. I knew they didn't have fans, but the chocolate situation had reached critical levels. I had begun resorting to eating Hershey's chocolate. *gasp* Now I have enough fine European bitter chocolate to get me through the next few months. Checking out, the clerk said that I must be making a gift basket for someone. Sheepishly, I responded that it was all for me. Doesn't anyone else buy chocolate in volume?

The last stop was to Fantastic Sam's to get my hair shortened. The stylist took personal offense when I said that I like to cut my own bangs. I thought that she would be glad because it was less work for her, but she kept grilling me, wanting to know why I didn't want her to cut them. I didn't want to insult her by saying that the last time she cut them so short that it screwed up my passport photo and took two months to grow out to the right length. I steadfastly refused to give her a reason other than personal preference while wondering why she seemed to be so intent on receiving an insult. I really hate getting my hair cut. If I could see to cut the back I would never go back.

Lastly, I came home without a fan and prepared to throw my old fan in the trash. I plugged it in and gave it one last test just to make sure. It worked. All is well again.

Stolen Eggs Taste Best

Murphy is on a special diet and eats, almost exclusively, meat, eggs and cheese. Murph likes hard-boiled eggs and they are easy to fix, so I toss a few in his bowl with every meal. After one meal, an egg was left behind.

Later, I saw Tommy sitting on the carpet, taking tiny bites from it looking like a squirrel with the egg between his paws. He watched me nervously, wondering if I was going to take it away. I just looked the other way.

I felt a little guilty because I didn't know that Tommy liked hard-boiled eggs. It's not right that he has been watching Murph eat special egg treats and he never got any.

With the next meal, Tommy got his own egg. He ignored it and walked away. Murphy ended up eating the egg.

Things evened out in the end, but still, what was that all about? Do eggs only taste good if they're stolen?

Too Safe

Sometimes late at night when there is no one else around, I like to play with my car. I have favorite curves that I like to test to see what my car can do on them. On some of the better curves, my car has been doing something that drives me nuts. The car grips the road and will do everything I want it to when suddenly a yellow light on the dash says slip and the power is cut to the engine. It takes several killer seconds for the power to be restored. I feel like I'm being punished for trying to make the car do what it was designed to do.

The annoying thing is that my car is not slipping, sliding or skidding. It is hugging the road. What is the fun in having a sports car if it forces you to drive like it is a minivan?

I didn't buy my car just because it is pretty, I also wanted a car that would be fun to drive. Fun doesn't mean cup holders, a CD player or quiet interior. Fun means that I can fly around curves and pretend that I'm a fighter pilot. There is such a thing as too many safety features.

Where Are You Taking Her?

The patient had alternated between talking to and screaming at the apparitions and we were all sick of it. And despite her advanced old age and frailty, she was no lady. She knew every swear word in the book and used them all, with the F word being her favorite.

We tried sedating her so that the other patients in the room could get some rest. It didn't work. A private room opened up, so we moved her into it. As we were wheeling her out of the room, a visitor asked with grave concern in her voice, "Where are you taking her, may I ask?"

What did she think we were going to do with her? Push her over the balcony? Take her to the morgue? Dump her in the parking lot?

I sweetly answered that we were putting her another room. The visitor watched as we put her in her new room, just to make sure, I suppose.

Hospitals are scary places, but they're not that scary. We don't "get rid of" patients that are annoying. What did she think we were going to do to her?

A Tricky Dress

Needing a dress for a work-related dinner that is coming up, I looked in a spare closet and found several dresses that have never been worn. It didn't seem right to buy a new dress, so I tried the dresses on.

One of the dresses was extremely difficult to get on. I couldn't imagine that I had gained that much weight, but once on, it fit perfectly. It's a wrap dress, so I figured that I must have missed a button or tie hidden somewhere inside the dress, making it difficult to put on. I searched the dress while wearing it, but couldn't find any way to loosen the waist so that I could get it off.

I tried to pull it over my head, but the waist wouldn't go past my rib cage and it hurt my shoulders to tug on it. I tried pulling it down over my hips, but it would not budge. The dress absolutely would not come off and I was starting to feel claustrophobic. I didn't want to cut it off of me, but I also didn't want to wear the dress for the rest of my life.

Studying the dress some more, I noticed something. There was a hidden zipper going down the back. Look at the photo of the back of the dress. Do you see a zipper? I unzipped it and was able to step out of the dress. Don't I feel silly? Whoever sewed the zipper in did a very good job of hiding it, too good of a job.

Fighting Flowers And Biting Flies

I don't know what these nasty flowers are called, but they are mean. They look perfectly innocent, but if water gets on them, watch out. The seed pods explode and pelt you with seed shrapnel. It hurts. Nasty little bastards.

I'm also being assaulted by biting flies. Isn't it enough that they have a yard with poop to meet their needs for nourishment and breeding grounds, is it necessary to go after blood? I wonder if I put out a bowl of blood for them if they would leave me alone or would that attract more blood suckers?

Importance Of Original Documents

A young monk arrives at the monastery. He is assigned to helping the other monks in copying the old canons and laws of the church by hand. He notices, however, that all of the monks are copying from copies, not from the original manuscript. So, the new monk goes to the head abbot to question this, pointing out that if someone made even a small error in the first copy, it would never be picked up! In fact, that error would be continued in all of the subsequent copies.

The head monk, says, "We have been copying from the copies for centuries, but you make a good point, my son."

He goes down into the dark caves underneath the monastery where the original manuscripts are held as archives in a locked vault that hasn't been opened for hundreds of years. Hours go by and nobody sees the old abbot. So, the young monk gets worried and goes down to look for him.

He sees him banging his head against the wall and wailing, "We missed the "R"! , we missed the "R"! His forehead is all bloody and bruised and he is crying uncontrollably.

The young monk asks the old abbot, "What's wrong, father?"

With A choking voice, the old abbot replies, "The word was... CELEBRATE."


(Thanks, Sarah)

Moving Dead People

A patient in CCU had been taken off of life-support and stubbornly refused to die right away, so it became necessary to find a place to dump transfer her to make room for patients in CCU who might actually survive the night. I really hate it when they give us patients for the sole purpose of watching them die.

Right before she was to be transferred, we got a phone call that the patient had died. What a relief. While we were celebrating our good fortune, who should show up? Our transfer patient. At first I thought that they were giving us a dead patient. That wouldn't be the first time that has happened, but it quickly became apparent that she was still breathing, sort of.

I whispered to the transferring nurse that we were told that she had already died, but he said it was "a dude who died. This is a dudette."

We accepted the patient and helped slide her into bed. It was a juicy process. She had massive edema and fluid was leaking from her skin like a wet sponge. We put towels around her to absorb some of the liquid.

Her morphine drip was dosed at a level that would be fatal for most people; she was already comatose with slow respirations and her blood pressure was critically low and falling. We barely got her in bed before our dudette died.

Having a patient die is draining. The grieving family must be comforted while tons of forms are filled out. Phone calls have to be made and then the body must be wrapped and removed. If CCU had kept her just a few minutes longer, they could have finished what they started instead of dumping on us.

She was taken out on a gurney with a sheet over her body. It was so obvious what was under the sheet. We do have a dead body gurney with a special bottom that allows the body to be hidden, but the transporters are too lazy to get it.

When the elevator door opened, some visitors got out and passed the gurney. Most people grimace or look away when they see a dead body being rolled out, but either these visitors didn't notice the body or they saw nothing unnatural about a dead person being wheeled out of a nursing unit. That's something that I will never get used to.

Who Has The Keys?

We used to have six sets of narcotics keys at work. That way every nurse could have her own set of keys. Then a set disappeared. As per protocol, the locks were changed and we received six new sets of keys.

A week later, another set of keys went missing. We can't change the locks every week, so this time it was decided to just screw it. We'll just make do with five sets of keys. Yes, this is a management decision.

That does mean there is another set of keys floating around somewhere, putting our narcotics at risk of being stolen, but, who cares. Oh well.

Pigs

Some people are such pigs. A visitor carried out a bottle of pee from a patient and set it down on a table in the nursing station. The outside of the container was dripping pee. He did this every time it needed to be emptied. Has he never heard of a call light? None of us will dare say anything to him because he will complain to management and in our hospital, the patient and their families are always right.

It could be worse, though. We once had a patient set a bedpan full of liquid stool on top of the secretary's desk.

Maybe this is why we are not allowed to eat or drink in the nursing station.

Is It On Backwards?

This is a photo of House wearing a patient gown. What kind of gown is this? Gowns tie in the back, not the front. Are there really hospitals out there that have gowns like this? I can't believe that we were deprived of a chance to see House in a backless gown.

Muddy Paws

What is it about dogs and mud?

The Wrong Hip

And I thought that I was having a bad day. One of our surgeons operated on the wrong hip. With all of the safeguards in place you wouldn't think that could happen, but it did.

The patient several years ago had bilateral hip replacements. There is a lifetime risk of infection with artificial components inside the body, and unfortunately this guy got unlucky and his left hip became infected. Antibiotics don't work well in situations like this, so there was no choice but to remove the infected hardware. After months of IV antibiotics, the hardware can then be replaced.

On the day of surgery, the guy arrived at the hospital and his right hip was also red and swollen. The doctor got an additional consent to do an incision and drainage on the right hip.

At some point, the surgeon and everyone else in the OR got confused. After he removed the pus from the right hip, he forgot that the consent was to remove the hardware in the left hip and the pus in the right hip. He went ahead and removed the hardware in the right hip and totally forgot about the left hip.

Fortunately for the surgeon, the right hip was also infected and the hardware did need to be removed, so the patient doesn't have much in the way of damages. It is, however, battery because there was no consent for the procedure that the doctor did. At some future date, the patient has to go back to OR and have the hardware from the remaining hip removed.

The doctor's OR report is kind of interesting. He makes it sound like he did what he was supposed to do. A consultant in the case also wrote in the chart as though everything went as planned. We all know the truth, though.

I don't know what the patient knows. The patient doesn't speak much English and isn't well educated, so nothing will likely come of this.

I bet the surgeon doesn't feel like coming to work on Monday. The administrators will be waiting for him.

10/06

Getting out of my car at work, I noticed something odd about my side window. There was some small print written with a black marker at the bottom of the window. It was discrete and barely noticeable. It said, "10/06".

What does that mean? Is it October 2006? Why would someone write that?

I've never parked my car on the street, so it isn't any kind of meter maid marking. My car has only been in my locked garage at home, the parking lot at work and the occasional store parking lot.

This is driving me crazy. It must mean something, but what?

Freaky Fruit

Thanks, Sarah.

An Offer For My Services

I received the following e-mail:


"Hi,


I currently work at [*******] Insurance Services in the marketing team, and I am constantly looking at ways to divert traffic through to our websites.

I was wondering if you would be willing to have a text link to one of our sites from your blog page on the side menu. This would not require any images or banners, and would be just text.


Please let me know if this would be possible, as we would be willing to pay $40 for this.


Many thanks for your time,


Laura [******]

Marketing Assistant

[*********] Insurance"


So, what do you think? Does this sound legit?

Even if it is a real offer, I'm not going to accept. I wouldn't notice the $40 in my bank account, but I would notice an ad on my blog. It does seem strange, though, that someone is willing to give me money for blogging. It never occurred to me that it was even possible to make money doing this.

Comparative Disappointments

Today, I went to Costco and treated myself to a Very Berry Sundae. Normally this is frozen yogurt topped with marion berries. Today it was strawberries. Not that there is anything wrong with strawberries, but I like it better with marion berries. Since strawberries are cheaper, I guess Costco is trying to save a little money.

While I was sullenly eating my sundae at a picnic table under an umbrella inside the store, I couldn't help but overhear another customer having a cell phone conversation with her mother. She was excited that she has upgraded her Costco card. Instead of the usual $50 membership fee, she had paid $100. In exchange, she would get 20% of the value of her purchases back at the end of the year. She was figuring that she would save about $2,000 a year.

I was disappointed over my berries. That's nothing compared to the disappointment she's going to feel when she only gets a check back for 2% of her purchases. She didn't read the sign correctly.

I have a patient who also is disappointed. She's a young woman who every year has gotten regular pap smears. The last one was in July of this year and like all of the others, came back negative. The tests were all wrong and she actually had cervical cancer which has spread to the uterus. We don't know yet if it has spread any further.

I don't know if the problem was in the lab where the tests are read or if her doctor didn't take adequate specimens, but for that many tests to come back with false negatives is unusual. Cervical cancer develops slowly over years. A yearly pap smear will normally detect the disease before it turns cancerous. With early treatment, the disease is almost 100% curable. What a great lawsuit if her cancer has spread.

When you are disappointed by something, it's not hard to find other people who are worse off. Compared to cancer, the wrong kind of berries on my sundae doesn't seem like such a bad thing.

Siren Song - Part Two

Outrage! Who would do a thing like this? The dressing I put on the call light was gone when I came to work today. Management was not even here today because of the holiday, so it must have been the act of some goody-two-shoes nurse.

Thinking the problem was taken care of, I didn't bother to bring a screw driver to work today. Disabling the alarm was going to be my next course of action if I couldn't sufficiently muffle it.

Rather than bother with another dressing, I tucked a pillow around it with instructions that if anyone touches that pillow when I'm here, they will die. I didn't really say that, it was just understood.

I guess for now on when I arrive at work, the first thing I will do is give the alarm pillow therapy. That works also.

Just in case, I should probably bring an assortment of screwdrivers to work with me in the future. You never know when they will be needed.

Siren Song

The bastards have been playing with our call light again. Management decided that we're not answering the call lights fast enough, so their solution was to make the call light louder and more piercing. Hiring more aides to help with the lights would help too, but they would rather have us just run to answer the lights.

The sound is particularly high-pitched with rapid dinging that hurts our ear drums and makes me want to scream in pain and frustration. Visitors to our floor all say the same thing, " What is that sound?" One doctor suggested that management just get a recording that says, "Lazy bastards, get over here."

What do you think that I did about the problem?

a) nothing

b) complained to anyone who would listen

c) muffled the alarm with bandages

d) used a screwdriver to disable the alarm

e) hit the alarm with a sledgehammer

f) sued the bastards


Here's a hint of how I solved the problem:

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You didn't really expect to see a sledgehammer did you?

The Pill

I opened up a freshly made bed at work that had been cleaned and changed after the previous patient left. Inside the bed was a pill. I have no idea what kind of pill it is or how it could possibly have gotten there. Anyone care to speculate?

Dream Play

Last night, I had one of my favorite kind of dreams. In the middle of the dream, I realized that I was dreaming. My reaction was, oh goody, now I can play.

I got to perform ballet on pointe in bare feet, without pain. I got to figure skate in the snow, in bare feet. I could fly. And best of all...uh, well, we won't talk about best of all. ;)

Do you ever have dreams where you realize that you are dreaming and can control the events of your dream and play?

A Changed Room

Feeling the need for some change in my life, I re-decorated my entire living room today and it didn't cost a single penny. The room feels entirely different now. So, how did I do it? No, I didn't trade "favors" with a decorator. I just moved the furniture 45 degrees around and removed most of the crap covering the walls. Some of the crap was from the dogs tracking mud, pee and poo into the house and then shaking. Some of the crap was in the form of bamboo screens and way too much stuff nailed to the walls.

Now the storage bedroom is jam-packed with even more of my things, but at least the downstairs looks better. I find it difficult to part with things, I mostly just move them around.

The scary part was seeing what was under and behind the couch. Black widow spiders had set up housekeeping and mice had been stockpiling dog food. I'm so hoping that the mice were just visiting and aren't hunkered down somewhere else in the house.

The bamboo screens had black widow spiders clinging to them as well. I'm trying not to think about what is behind the other furniture. I'm not in the mood to peek and find out.

Most of the day was spent vacuuming, scrubbing, washing and hosing things off. I so badly wanted to drag the hose in the house to work on the walls. Too bad that's against the rules.

I'm very happy with the room now. It's clean, uncluttered, allowed me to work off some nervous energy and it was FREEEEE!