Prosaic Paradise

…from a future Nursing student perspective.

I keep thinking about what one tech said to me as she was poking around for a vein to take blood. I had asked her, like I asked every single human in scrubs who entered my room because I was trapped in bed and shameless, where she went to school. She was in the nursing program at HCC. I asked her if she liked it.

“No one likes nursing school.” She said this with conviction and without hesitation.

Not what you want to hear when you know that next year you get to take your first actual nursing classes, that you will finally be moving beyond basic sciences. And you’ve been kind of excited about it. Excited enough that you went to the library and checked out a first semester Nursing textbook just to feel out how things are going to go. I mean, how can you not like something you not only opted in for but busted your ass to get into? You are kind of required to self-justify right?

So I pressed back a little. I mean, I know it’s hard work, but there is some reward, right? She asked me about my own background and we figured out I’m a bit older than her. The next thing she said kind of threw me, because I’m a pollyanna and always think the best of everyone. And I also like to think that the person jabbing a needle into me in several places has critical thinking skills.

“Maybe it wouldn’t suck if I were older and had some critical thinking skills.”

My first thought was, I am older, and I have those! Maybe it won’t suck for me as much. My second thought was, really? You don’t have any? Even asking that question seems to indicate you have some.

During my short three day stay in the hospital I met RNs, BSNs, moonlighting military nurses (in the ER) and one particularly gregarious and helpful nurse who was a graduate of the hospital-based diploma system. Most of the techs were in school as well, and were even more willing to talk about it. This was the silver lining of my hospital stay, getting to talk to people in the profession. They were patient with my endless questions, and I was grateful for that.

I only had one frustrating experience while I was there. On my first full morning there was a period of many hours where I wasn’t allowed to eat or drink (in case I needed surgery) but also had my IV bag left in the room without being hooked up. Several techs tried to take my blood but it was moving like molasses, and none of them were allowed to hook up the IV. All I could do was stare longingly at that bag of sugar water and page the nurse at a respectful interval. (Or what I hoped was respectful anyways.) Finally, I called the desk in tears, because the IV also was going to deliver me pain medicine. The new shift nurse came up immediately and hooked me up.

While there could be a thousand reasons why I waited for that IV, later as I started to feel better and got up and walked the hall a little, it was pretty clear to me. I was almost certainly the least sick person in the place. I was awake and alert. My periodic vitals and checks and meds were probably the easiest job these nurses had today. Thinking about all the nursing blogs I read helped me understand a little why maybe my IV wasn’t at the top of the list. It gave me better patience over the course of my stay there. And is another reason why I think policies discouraging medical professionals from blogging at all are going in the wrong direction.

In a strange way, it made me glad I had this experience before I take my first nursing class. I mean, no one is glad to have to be in the hospital, but it gave me some clarity and positivity about my chosen path. Reading all the blogs and the nursing student twitter stream at GoStudentNurse make me itch to be included and to really understand. But I still have to be patient.

Tags: nursing

Over the Thanksgiving weekend, Jack & I accompanied my dad to the gun show at Hampton coliseum. It’s been years and years since I went to a gun show with my dad – possibly since I was in college, so despite the past decade of being mostly anti-gun in mindset, this was like a terrific walk down memory lane. There was some wingnut antics & propaganda on display, but nostalgia won the day.

The last time I fired a gun was many years back now, and since then I’ve purposely kept myself at a distance from guns. I remember being a little uncomfortable at the range last time. I have no love for firing a gun, much to my dad’s chagrin; he bought me my first NRA membership as soon as I was old enough and he took me to the range and taught me how to handle a gun as soon as they’d let me out there with him.

Those experiences were really valuable, and I’m grateful to my dad for giving them to me. I do feel like there are good reasons, living in U.S. gun culture, to know how to handle a gun responsibly. I can academically understand the urge to become a good marksman, even though I never felt a pressing need. (Archery always seemed like way more fun.) Hunting for sport is something I find appalling, while hunting for food I somewhat understand. I’m a meat eater, and just because I’ve always maintained a good distance from the slaughter of the animals that I eat does not mean I should forget what happens to bring meat to my table.

It’s like a lot of things I feel strongly about; I have no good answers for legislation surrounding them, I just wish our culture would move away from violence, celebration of violence, and glorification of it. I’m not out there campaigning for stricter gun laws because I don’t believe that gun laws alone can stop gun violence. On the other hand, I sure as shit don’t think citizens being better armed is going to end up with anything but more people getting shot, an outcome I’m wholly against no matter who those people are. I know it sounds frittery and stupid and idealistic but like other abhorrent things we seem to love in our dominant culture I just wish we could back off, get interested in something less destructive.

We walked through the aisles of the show, dad pointing out this type of antique rifle he’s fired or that revolver he likes, discussing the probable history of this Colt, explaining why a certain type of ammo is cheap, and I relate to my father about his interests, and that feels great. Then I immediately turn around and see these enormous automatic weapons and think, there is truly no good reason to have that. Some folks think that we’re just moments away from lawlessness, from the need to defend ourselves from the oppressor or the criminal. I don’t think that way. My experience of living in the U.S. doesn’t support that. My (admittedly vague) spirituality doesn’t allow for doing mortal harm as self-defense or punishment.

Someday Jack may decide he would like to be a gun owner, and we might have a gun in our home. I’m not in love with the idea, but if he really wanted it we would be sure to follow all the requirements of responsible gun owners. Not too long ago I think I was entirely against the idea, but in terms of our relationship I’ve come around to think that I can’t tell him what to do on this count. I don’t think it’s an ultimatum I’m prepared to issue.

I kind of hope I can publish this and have people be too busy to read it. I feel like there’s enough here to make my friends of any political stripe angry with me. I just wanted to talk about how awesome it is to spend time with my dad and enjoy listening to him talk about his hobbies and how going to the gun show is something special that he shared with me as a kid and I’m glad we can still do it. But it is complicated by my mixed political and social feelings, and I feel like they belong in the record.

I’d be remiss if I didn’t mention a book that also got me thinking more about this, Kyle Cassidy’s Armed America. When I first saw the book, I was disturbed. I’d let myself get into a comfortable denial about the presence of guns in my world. The book reminded me – they are out there, and so are their owners, who might be perfectly nice people. Yes I have friends and family that are gun owners, but they are not an aberration. Anyways I think Kyle’s work rocks.

Tags: Politics

First of all, THANK YOU everyone who participated in my Best Songs I’ve Never Heard contest. Almost everyone had songs I had never heard, and I have a hard time breaking out of my little box so it’s really good to get some listening time to new things. I was so psyched to line up this playlist and dig into it, even though my enjoyment was a little interrupted by sickness and hospitals. It was fun. OK, thus ends… the niceness.

If I have learned one thing from this little experiment, it’s that “best” is a suitably vague term to let people recommend just about anything. If I have learned a second thing, it is that I have very different tastes from my friends.

Of the 30 songs I gathered for the best song contest, here is the ratings breakdown:

• 5 stars – 0 songs
• 4 stars – 3 songs
• 3 stars – 11 songs
• 2 stars – 12 songs
• 1 star – 4 songs

Yes, I actually kind of detested four of your suggested best songs. Ouch! More telling, probably is that 12 more songs are in the two star category, which I would describe as “tolerable”. So that’s over half the songs right there! Now, if the song you suggested was your super favorite, I want to make clear that this is not an indictment of the actual quality of the song, just a reflection of how much I personally liked it. Which was not very much, but that’s OK – I bet if you heard my suggestion you’d shrug your shoulders and say “what’s the big deal?”

So! Without further ado, the winners, who will recieve a $10 gift certificate to the Amazon mp3 store:

1. TAO with “Insatiable (Two)” by …And You Will Know Us By The Trail of Dead: It helps that I already liked this band a little (though per the rules, had not heard this song). They are a band that have covered two of my favorite bands in the past, and I like the way they use percussion. It’s like my internet friend TAO knows me or something.
2. Christie with “Darlin’ Do Not Fear” by Brett Dennen: I never would have guessed, actually, that this would be in my favorites. I tend to give mellow singer-songwriter types of the Mraz-Mayer stripe the stinkear. But the words to this song got me and it’s pretty and I give up.
3. Deb F. with “I Lagornas Sken” by Nordman: Uh, hello. It’s from Sweden! But no, really, I just – it’s the folk music influence and the epic sound. I definitely like the metal bands that use this folk influence, so this was a good choice.

But that’s not all! I would like to offer an honorary prize to the person who offered the song I thought was the worst song I had never heard, and hopefully they are willing to be a good sport about this, but will also get a $10 gift certificate!

1. Pam! You are the unwinner with Lone Justice’s “Sweet Sweet Baby (I’m Falling)”! Maria McKee’s voice may be nice in other contexts, but this song was perfectly concocted to make me shiver with bland chills of pop music discomfort. I think, to be fair, that there are songs out there that are just as cheesy that I like, but it’s through the lens of nostalgia.

Winners: Please send me the email address where you would like to receive your gift certificate and I will get that to you post-haste! You can leave it in the comment form or you can email/FB message me.

Tags: Music

This is yet another last-minute entry for Genie’s Living Out Loud project.This month’s assignment is about gifts.

I used to be a gift-giving machine. A true gift romantic, believing I could always delight the recipient and deriving the utmost pleasure in seeing their smile. I used to get behind an idea and just push it to the limit. Today things with me are very different. I don’t know if it’s because I’m more selfish or because I try to gain some high moral ground against materialism or if I am just more of a pragmatist (or more lazy) than I once was, it could be a million reasons. But it could be because of these two gifts.

Both of these gifts went to the same person – my ne’er do well boyfriend from approximately 1993 to 1997. Let’s call him Glen.

Back then, he was king of the geeks – or rather – president of the Sci-Fi and Fantasy club at Virginia Tech. I was pretty excited, at age 18, to be dating this dude. By pretty excited I mean pathologically obsessed and desperately in love, for the value of love that I understood at age 18. Those who knew me then well… I just hope they forgive me.

The first gift I remember getting him was something I created over an entire summer. Back in the day, there was this little thing called the Amateur Press Association. Where you like, wrote or typed your fiction and had to, dare I mention it, mail it with postage to the other members of your group. Glen was very, very proud of some works of fiction he’d written (in the spirit of, ahem, Robotech) and submitted his work to one of these groups, and had dreams of publication.

Since I pretty much ate up anything he vomited out of his compost-enhanced fertile creative mind, I was all about this. I thought I was dating the next … um… who wrote the Robotech novels? Oh my God, there is no way I can tell this story without embarrassing myself. At any rate, he’d created artwork to go with this. Since I was helping instruct a stained glass class at the time, I decided I would make a stained glass piece based on his brilliant, totally original space robot pilot story. How could he possibly not love me as desperately and wholly as I loved him once he saw this awesome gift that I had sweated over and cut myself on and ignored my charges at summer camp for? How, I ask you?

Oh. It was pretty easy. I don’t remember exactly how the reveal went down, probably because I’ve blocked it out. But I know he pretty much put this (admittedly kind of crooked and sad) piece in a drawer and never really looked at it again. So that was round one.

Not to be deterred, because pretty much nothing but dying or sanity (the former seemed far more likely then) would cure me of this affliction, the next year I went about hand-making a box for Glen to hold his Magic: The Gathering deck in. I know. Stop a moment and contemplate it – it was 1994 or so and CCGs hadn’t taken over the universe. Also, we lived in a giant, unassailable castle of dorkitude. Or rather, the apartment where we also held weekly Blood Bowl matches, but it’s one and the same.

So I went out and found the perfect hardwood box to carefully engrave, restain, refinish, line in velvet, and generally make into exactly the kind of hideous trinket you imagine in the worst high-dork-art style possible. It was a thing of brilliance. It took months and dollars I didn’t have as a poor college student. I put in careful and diligent thought about the many facets of his personality and what he would like.

I think he basically said “my deck barely fits in here”. Or “could it have been in black?” I’m pretty sure what happened at that point was some kind of fugue state that stopped my memory banks from holding things, because it’s all a blank. I’ll just note while I’m at it that this is the same charming gentleman who bought himself an $800 Gundam laserdisc set and explained that because of that he couldn’t afford to get me anything for Christmas that year. Glen 3, Gifts 0.

Now this wasn’t the sudden end of my gift giving. I went on to give boyfriends and girlfriends thoughtful or (eventually, once I was doing better) expensive gifts for many years to come. But I think the seeds of my current situation (the no-gift relationship) may have been sewn right when the paper came off that off-kilter melding of solder and glass. And in case you are wondering, when we broke up the first or second time I stole that puppy right back, and even today it hangs in the window of my home, because I made it and I fucking appreciate that.

Note: This story may sound a little bitter – but deep in my heart I still really do love to give and receive gifts between my friends & family. I’m just better at choosing folks to exchange gifts.

Tags: Living Out Loud

I was pleased to make it home to visit my parents for Thanksgiving. While I fussed and fretted about the drive itself, it was not too painful and it was a relief to sleep in the new titanic bed they bought so that finally Jack and I can sleep in the same bed when we are visiting my parents. And by titanic I mean I had to get a leg up – you know like when you were a kid and you got out of the pool without bothering with the ladder.

I also got to see Genie and Rich and meet Ian. I told Genie that it’s good that tropical storms and illness pushed my visit back because I was much more sober about the whole thing and didn’t turn into a weepy mess on sight of baby. He’s very cute and has a giant baby-head. I’m no baby whisperer but he’s a pretty cool guy so even when I held him he didn’t fuss. Crazy aunt Kim is geared up for more visits soon I hope.

Apart from that shining highlight of social effort, I have been a pretty gloomy gus the past few weeks. I’m pushing past a depressive instinct to hide & keep to myself to post this because I know that if I walk the walk I might get back to being my old self.

It’s funny. When I was severely depressed over a decade ago, I ended up learning some good defenses and coping mechanisms against allowing myself to get too far gone, while being filled with empathy at other people’s struggles with depression. As time passed and I spent more and more time feeling totally free of it, the memories of how to be compassionate and how to cope have faded.

Last night I let slip that bizarre and completely ludicrous mantra that always settles in my mind when I’m struggling, “I hate everything.” This statement is patently false and I disdain it when I or anyone else says it (see above re: forgetting how to be compassionate). But there it is, flying from my mouth unbidden. Jack responds “That can’t be true.”

“No, but it’s what I say when I can’t figure out how to like anything.”

(I had a cognitive therapist once that was so great about teaching me how to stop repetitive thoughts, and man, what luck that I found her when I did.)

I know this is going to pass. I am not having a 100% pain free day but so far, it’s been close. Fear is dominating my choices right now and I don’t like it so I know that means I won’t put up with it forever.

Tags: introspection

Well, it seems that events have conspired to thwart my November daily posting goals. Friday, during my first day back at work after bronchitis, I started to have sharp abdominal pains. I knew what it was right away, because it’s just not something you forget easily. And I saw it all playing out just like it did in 2002, but I resisted for a few more hours anyways. By about 10pm though, I knew it was no good. So Jack and I bundled up and headed to the ER – knowing I probably would be admitted to the hospital.

I kind of hate talking about the problem because it seems embarrassing, though I’ve always been one to discount the impact of embarrassment because life is too short for that kind of nonsense. But the problem is diverticulitis. So, you know, colons are gross.

It’s really interesting that I can go back to Livejournal and read the stuff that was going through my mind (or close to it, I’m sure there was plenty I didn’t express) while I recovered the first time. I was on third shift at the time and I can tell you what I cannot imagine trying to get back into the swing of a night shift while also dealing with the side effects of Cipro and Flagyl. When I read my entries I can sense the overall unwellness I was feeling at the time – that I’m feeling almost identically right now.

The hospital visit itself went almost exactly the same way. Show up, get IV, drink contrast, have CT scan, get admitted, lie around for three days eating only liquids. There was an added bonus of “please don’t let me need surgery” and a chest x-ray (I was still coughing from bronchitis) and pelvic ultrasound (timing is key) thrown in for good measure. It was made more pleasant by understanding what was going on and by the fact that I want to be a nurse so my relations with all the nurses and techs were more interesting. A kind classmate from Microbiology snuck in to see me under false pretenses, gifting me with a pick-me-up just when my spirits were flagging the worst. Oh, and I sure as hell didn’t have an iPhone last time, giving me a way to know what was happening in the outside world.

Most embarrassing moment: the transport guy (orderly, though I gather that word is no longer used) wheeling me in my sad little hospital gown with 2 days of filth on me says “You look familiar.” Turns out he was in my Chem class. We had a nice chat, but, ugh! Howard Community College represent, though.

I feel like I’ve been out of commission for weeks, and there is this whole swirly guilt/depression/fretfulness storm surrounding me. I know that as I feel more confident in my healing (and can stop taking these drugs) it will lift but for now, I just have to deal. I will be listening to a whole mess o’ Pema to get through this – and by the way meditation techniques really help in a hospital setting.

Tags: health

Right now my energy for organizing freecycle or going to the thrift store is nil, so I looked around the home office here and found a mess of clutter, like, can’t even access the shelves in here clutter. It’s a big job but for a start:

• A tote bag a friend made me in 1995 that is full of moth eaten holes.
• Anything in the tote bag because I haven’t looked at it in years.
• Empty DVD spindles.
• A massive excess of pre-used file folders.
• Phone books, god, why?
• Boxes for electronics – computer speakers, network switches, the like.
• A decorative collection of fortunes from cookies.

It’s frustrating that I let this stuff accumulate.

Unfortunately I also acquired some stuff today. CDs. I couldn’t find digital copies!

• Moonlyght – Shining
• Sesame Street Follow That Bird Soundtrack (feat. Waylon Jennings and Alabama!)
• The Church – El Momento Siguente

Tags: Purge Thursday

It’s probably no surprise at all that in the past week I have been watching more TV than anyone ever should. In case you were wondering, it is really hard on the soul. Unfortunately the world of books hasn’t been doing me any more favors, and it’s been hard to even hold a book up, and OK so my choices have left a few things to be desired in the reading arena. I’ll get to that later. Right now I will give you the TV rundown, though, because that is all I have to talk about. (Please let this end!)

Mad Men: I was NOT going to watch this. I was not going to do it. And the first moments of this show that I saw were the one with the horrible octopus painting, which convinced me to walk immediately out of the room. But Jack was persistent. He’d wait until I was really, really comfy on the couch, preferably under a cat, and playing games on my iphone, and then he’d say, slyly, “Mind if I watch the latest Mad Men?” and I would be like, “fine” because I was about to beat my best solitaire time, and long story short, I watch this show now. God damnit. I didn’t want to sit around being horrified at how women used to be treated! That did not sound like fun! I’m not sure where things got turned around, I really can’t put my finger on it, but now I’m dying to know how Don handles this. What the hell. (It was probably Jon Hamm’s john ham sketch on SNL.)

SYTYCD: This fall season has been a bummer. No one’s tweeting madly about it, which takes some of the fun away. The new stage is horrible and distracting to me. Ryan the crazy superman is almost too much. They cut all the tappers, who had the most personality of anyone. I couldn’t find anyone to root for. Nobody (that I know personally) is having SYTYCD house parties or doing recaps. Fall is just too busy for this. I think I may be finding a few favorites though. Jakob has been stealth-wowing me with each new thing he tackles. I find Tabitha and Napoleon’s choreography boring, but this week Jakob made it look so good. For the girls, I like them all about the same. I am waiting for someone to stand out. Actually I think you can just read Mightygodking’s recap, for once I didn’t really disagree.

Supernatural: This show can do virtually no wrong. Someday I will trick Telf into coming to an isolated area, trap her, and make her watch it. Wait. I just need to come up with a stunningly irresistible crafting project we can both work on and slide in the DVDs.

30 Rock and Community: These shows also bring back my faith in humor and humanity.

INCIDENTALLY: The best news I got all week is that Telf & Gene, after a long, long struggle, closed on their house. I AM SO HAPPY FOR YOU GUYS!!!!!!! There are fireworks going off in my mind and Queen is playing. This is right.

CSI Miami: I just sometimes need a good laugh. And I’m sorry but this has been consistently funnier than the Big Bang Theory.

Grey’s Anatomy: I should just stop watching this show. But, Callie? And Arizona? That’s my only excuse.

Ellen: I love Ellen Degeneres’ show so much and I think it actually has healing powers. Her and Craig Ferguson rule talk shows forever.

Beyond this, the TV choices get really sad and depraved. Forensic Files, American Justice, Cold Case Files anyone? How much true crime can one person take? I have got to get well, and I may have to cancel cable for a year.

Tags: TV

Well, it’s been a really challenging day here in sicksville in front of the TV. Not only have I been laid low, now Jack is percolating with ick on the couch. We both have prescriptions from our respective docs and Christie, saint that she is, dropped off potato soup and a giant stack of DVDs. But I’m really hoping at this point that we’ve seen the worst of it. I actually think that human contact may have healing powers for me, because just a quick 8 foot minimum distance visit from a friend had a hugely cheering effect.

For a blog post copout, I’m hitting up livejournal’s Writer’s Block feature. Today’s question is: What three items would you place in a time capsule to help future generations understand you? Continue Reading »

Tags: health, stuff

This is what my body ended up saying to me yesterday. I tried to go for a walk in the fresh air, which was lovely. I tried to keep moving a bit, put some laundry away, so my muscles would not completely lose any strength they ever had. I was doing great, albeit coughing.

Then the chills hit. By the time sunset came around, I was uncomfortable everywhere. The couch sucked. The bed felt bad. The chairs all made me ache in my back. I finally reached some kind of peace by setting myself up in the bungee chair* with two blankets, an ice pack on my neck, a pillow, my iPod playing Pontoon, and a makeshift ottoman stuck in place with an exercise band. (The disadvantages of hardwood floors, your makeshift ottomans tend to slide around.) I had Jack take a picture for posterity, because I thought it was funny, but I’m not posting it.

By the time I went to bed I was actively shaking and couldn’t get warm so I made Jack into a human heating element, which worked out well. Even Nicolas, the most mean cat in our house, did something he *never* does and crawled under the covers and lay next to me, without drawing blood. Usually if he somehow gets curious and climbs under there any motion makes him freak out and claw you. Then I slept for 12 hours. My body was saying STOP and I had to listen.

I did have fever dreams about how if I didn’t sleep enough on each side, I wouldn’t be insured for the cost of treatment, because that’s what I needed, to worry about something stupid and made up. Finally sometime in the middle of the morning I woke up and told myself “Please let everything go. You have to stop because all your energy has to go into resting and feeling better”. And then I had what might be the second best sleep of my life, next to the time I had jet lag and slept for 16 hours.

After measuring a temp of 101.2 this afternoon and feeling really, really dumb for a while because my brain was cooking, I slammed a second dose of NyQuil and now my temp is back down to normal. I’m going to the doctor tomorrow.

I promised to listen to all your songs on my commute, but since I’m not commuting and really not in a good mood, it might take me a little longer than that to hear them all, but I will get there! I so … weirdly… wish I could be commuting.

* I paid an ungodly sum of shipping for that chair to come to me from Minneapolis from a Craigslist ad. Based on last night alone, it was worth it. Can you guess why they discontinued this chair? It might as well be called the “Pet and Child Strangler”. Our cats seem to be really smart though and avoid it like the plague.

Tags: health