Death-ice cream social-inappopriate laughter.....Curious?

I swear on a stack of bibles this is true. It is tragic, yet inappropriately gut wrenching hysterical.

There was a time in my career that I was the clinical manager of a Operating Room in a lets just say not the best hospital in town. But I hung in for my staff. You all owe me BIG!!

OK one night I am there (always was, lived there almost)  a bad heart came from the ER or Cath lab...can't remember that, so whatever details are not important yet. 

Well a very well know heart surgeon was the one to operate. (must of been his take it for the team call at our hospital) I was amazed at the caliber of Dr working right there!!!

So in the middle of this crashing open heart, it ain't looking good, guy is on pump (heart/lung machine) while the team try to attempt to save this guy. Needless to say I am the one to update the family.....black family..... a growing larger with each update family. Now in adding that in, is my introduction to cultural diversities. This was my young nurse's first time dealing with a traditional black family and death. Not what I expected at ALL. When I gave the initial update that "we were TRYING to get the patient off the pump" (BAD NEWS) several older women started yelling, screaming, hyperventilating and even falling to the ground. (No I am not kidding) So I freaking panic, I am alone in a waiting room with what appears to be my own trauma/code blue alone situation.I am thinking "Holy Sh!t!" I can't preform CPR alone on more than one person!! I rush back to the OR, out of breath telling the "big shot" surgeon what was happening. He turns around look right at me and asks...."any of em good looking?" I muttered something to the tune... that there is someone out there for everyone, so sure. WAIT! Then I asked -Why are you asking?! His response "In case I have to hug one of them, you know this guy is not going to make it". Dammit!! Back out to the waiting room. Multiplication of family and they are for the most part in hysterics. That is not embellished. I cant talk, I just say the DR will be out shortly to talk with you. I was NOT giving them the bad news. 

Well I get to help prepare the body. My first time EVER, not the last. I was freaking out like a ticked off ant mound inside. Dead body OMG Dead guy........So we bring the patient to our Cysto Room. Which was our immediate viewing room. (tells you why that hospital is closed now). However here is where the twist happens........as we are rounding the corner with dead guy.... down one hall (think T shaped hall)  family in hysterics has started coming down the other side of the hall. They were not told to do so,and cannot see us coming - Yet. The double doors swing open to show the CEO who was dressed in a ICE CREAM CONE costume pushing a old fashioned ice cream cart, with the CNO singing "Who wants a Ice Cream! Ice cream!" (Some employee appreciation thing) The timing!! dear God, was worse then my phone calls to my family or friends.

I wave my hands feverishly NO NO NO!!!!! DEAD GUY----FAMILY COMING!!!!!!

A scrub tech shoots out of no where heading them off, while getting a armload of ice cream sandwiches. Ass.

Now I get to wait for the funeral home, finish a novel of paperwork. And really get the patient ready....yes body bag time. First time EVER remember...? So while an orderly,& myself are getting him in the bag, I notice the arm....was warm....hot actually. But this man has been pronounced for at least a couple hours and was on bypass so he was cold already. OH NO WE MADE A MISTAKE!!!!! This guy is alive!!! I start feeling for a pulse while yelling for the surgeon. I feel a pulse, (my own) true that I start compressions. YES I DID. The surgeon pops his head in, a frenzy of myself tries to tell him this man was still alive. The surgeon slaps me on the ass, (yes) says "Its called post mortem fever-this man was septic". FOOL all over me poured like thick hot mud. I now look to this prestigious Dr like I am one of the hobbits that represented the hospital. Shame Shame I felt. 

I went back to the break room with the troops who hung around (riding the clock on overtime). We ate those bastard sandwiches while gagging crying laughing at the "Ice Cream Ice Cream!!!!".

That my friends is one of the most completely dysfunctional nights ever in my career thus far.  

Lawnmowers = Danger

WOW!!! To think it was 30+ years ago and yet I remember it as if it were this morning. What did I do this morning?

OK you look, and think Oh lawnmower. Right?......Wrong!!! It can be an evil, limb severing, death trap machine!!!! Flinging severed body parts into the yard. Massive bleeding, and yes including death.

How or better yet - do I think this? Because I was there.......

Somewhere in the 70's I was the cutest redhead with pigtails "drama queen" only child sitting in my Micky Mouse dream room. (wall paper - Disney, blue carpet, Disney sheets...you get the theme) recording my own voice into my little tan Fischer Price tape recorder. I was creating my "own" book on tape. Remember the tapes with cassettes that "ding" and you turned the page? Yea, well I needed mine to be better, more than a damn "ding" so being the smart (ass) kid I was, I was re-reading the books recording my voice and instead of a ding, I would tap this antique brass telephone bell for a "riiing".

OK back to mutilated body parts. I hear a SLAM! (the back door) and my father screaming my mother's name "Sybil!!!!"(Name changed, but fitting as well) Was mom was drunk? Passed out? No!! She was in the shower. The one sober time that week maybe one time that year!!! I had to intervene, something terrible has happened. THE RECORDER STILL TAPING.......I run from dreamland in a Yellow over sized shirt. (yes I remember, because I had to stay at the neighbors and was embarrassed) I see through the foyer a blood soaked leather glove, and blood spattered crime scene, off into the kitchen. My dad is still screaming for my mother. I blasted ass through their room (Red Carpet with Velvet drapes -Pimpin) and burst through the accordion door into the bath. Mama! Daddy's CUT HIS HAND OFF!!!!!!!! I then run and lock myself in my bathroom. You can hear on the tape me muttering "whhaats happening!!!" I aged 10 years in a very short time that morning. 

Well come to find out no hand was cut off. Leather gloves left outside retain a hand like shape. The blood was everywhere. My father at this point did not know he had amputated his big and second toe. (they were found later in the yard-really who bags?)

So he has emergency surgery....yada yada, and the Tape surfaces. It was the limelight of my existence as a child. Playing that damn thing over and over and over. looking back we do laugh at it. Goes to show how miserable our lives were, to find that it was so amusing and "fun" to listen to traumatic amputation aftermath, grumbled jargon hollering pain, and many F-Bombs.

So how did this happen?.....The dog at the shelter I HAD to have named Cookie (rot in hell dog), had a dog house built by my father. The dog promptly dug a hole under the fence and was long gone never to return, but had a dog house. As my dad was mowing.....he backed up, tripped backwards over the doghouse pulling the mower over his foot. The surgeon who operated on him, ended up being the surgeon I worked with in the co-op health job during high school. Small world. Be careful of mowers, and thank God we don't sling around tape recorders anymore. Can you imagine what we would listen to now?.......



Sickness, keeing it real.

My heavens......sick sick sick.....story goes of the mother of two. First one child gets "it", then the other. Wait for it tag you're it! Myself or Walter. Everyone has gotten "it". Now my turn.
Mine always turns into a tragic "help me I'm so sick, never been this sick...."

Well its not me without a sprinkle of drama. He he.

Have you ever noticed as the sickness moves through your house, you all get better then TAG another sickness. After a while it seems like you have the plague. Someone is always effing sick.

I was even asked by a boss at one time "are your kids ok? do they have a immune system problem?" YES, I was really asked that by of course a woman without kids. I responded Croup-Google it. Then walked away. (those that know me, know that is true). Oh and croup is torture to all who live in the house. Torture.

Fever as an adult is like being on a drug, a hallucinogenic drug. Also a out in space feeling. How can my kids be roasting a 103 temp and playing? While I lay in bed with 101 thinking I might need a priest to give me my last rites...... CRAZY.

Many of my friends that are working parents find themselves in the same boat. Gee read Facebook, everyone is sick or their kid is. I personally blame the Pharmaceutical companies (sorry Walter), and the ridiculess amount of meds my generation has taken. Turned super viruses. School, daycare and OMG WalMart shopping carts are petri dishes. I swear walking into a Walmart during flu season is almost like "sorry you asked for it" Tag=sick.

Can stress cause you to get sick easier, YES. But I don't feel "stressed".  But maybe I am really so stressed to the point I can no longer self assess. Sh!t maybe I should check into rehab for exhaustion, I know some girlfriends whom also suffer and should come too. Or get a script for Facebook Depression. REALLY?! Have you seen that!! Insane......"OMG, I didn't get anything posted to my wall, I am going to listen to Morrisey and cut myself". Get a life!

My followers and friends, be well. Bathe in bleach, and wear gloves at all times. Or be normal and wait until your children get old enough to stop spreading nasty colds around. I know that could be a pipe dream for some. One of my son's did not have a tissue so decided to just blow his nose into the air. Afterwards cracking himself and his brother into a fit of hysterical laughter. (I laughed at the laughing. the other NASTY).

This man is great medicine......

Any of the gals who need rehab for stress/sickness/exhaustion. Let me know. Celebs do it, why not regular people....?

Whatever

So earlier I talked about pollen......Now I am sick. I know its Karma getting me back for all the obsenities that poured from my mouth as I looked at Bruce. He should be Black and Shiny, yet he now looks like a freaking Bumble Bee with his dusting of Yellow.

So I lay in bed blogging from my phone, multitaksing by drinking Theraflu, watching Lifetime. Listening to my boys being boys. Do you ever think your kids are trying to kill you with the amount of noise they create? Or the husband playing Call Of Duty Live in the living room making it soud like I am under strike in Lybia really needed???
The movie that's on right now has a young Paul Rudd in it. I love him. He cracks me up and his nerdy look is easy on my eyes. Well its about that time....
I love Theraflu and Nyquil.Makes life easier when illness strikes. Bam hammertime and lights out!

The dreaded scale.

At one time the scale was my worst enemy. I was about 100 lbs heavier than I am now. I lost it about 4 years ago. My youngest is 6. When he was about a year, I had lost all my baby weight, but then gained about 100 lbs. I was addicted to (this is embarassing) cookie dough. Yes. I would eat about a family size log a week. Then to make it "cheaper" I decided to just get the BUCKET size from Sams. Pilsbury not Nestle. I do have my standards.

Well my husband (Walter) and I were drifting apart and I kept nagging.....Finally one day I forced it out of him, what was his issue with me? He says I was not "feminine". WHAT?! I wonderered WTH - he had been with me all this time. Yes I am a woman, but not a fu fu delicate flower beauty queen or kitten heels and ultra fem type.

So I go crying into my bedroom with the door closed calling my mother in law. I love her like my own mother, but a few minutes (maybe a hour) I could not put a name on what I thought she was after she said these words.....I don't think you are not feminine, I think what Walter is trying to say is you are OVERWEIGHT. OMG WTF Really???!!! She did not just utter the words I knew were true. So I go back into the living room tear stained mad as hell. Interigating my husband now. "So I just talked to your mom.....she thinks I need to loose weight!!!!" He had a oh sh!t look on his face. I ask..."Do I?" He avoids the question as if I was trying to force his mouth open and make him eat flying cockaroaches from Madagascar (hissing kind). Well after pushing and begging he answers......"Well, yes you could"

Oh my dear God in heaven!! So I push further...."How much? huh?" put a number on it. He did not respond right away, it took more hissing madagascar roaches. At least 50 POUNDS.
I am bawling at this point cookie dough in hand back in my bed.

Next week I am at the mall with a best girlfriend, I am telling the whole "Fat" story while we are in Victoria's Secret. I ask the size 00 sales chick for help finding the size I needed in a bra I wanted. Dreaded straight from hell words "We dont carry your size, you should try Lane Bryant".

I tell my best friend, (who is fat too but I denied it to her face) I AM FAT!!! Man sweat and stomping down the mall to the "Big Girl" store. Their effin bra did in fact fit.
The next Sunday I was at weight watchers. (I sat silent except for crying the entire meeting).

Took about 10 months but it came off. I have learned to tell the truth, don't ask questions you are not prepared to hear the answer. (really)

I love my mother in law, and husband. I feel good about myself. I have now for a few years. I still have cookie dough occasionally. But I am at a healthy BMI. (have not been since I was in nursing school - 1994)

I laugh at this story now. I am very thankful for the truth. Yes it hurts sometimes, but that means we are real.

I will not to this day buy a bra from Victoria's Secret.

Pollen

Pollen can "Suck it!" that is my take on the invisible to the eye, yet nasty to your senses pollen.
My husband just walked by and said "blogging it up?" I could kick him.

Pollen is not nice to Bruce (mini) he is shiny black, and a light yellow dusting does not do him well.

That was my morning comment. Benadryl and coffee. Its not just for "Bullshit Blog Shows" LOL really I was referred to that term. It sounds very rude, but it was funny as hell from the person who said it. It was their way of being endearing.

Here is a picture of Walter (we shall call him) my husband. We both refer to him as Walter. Really I am just putting it out there to see if he stumbles across it. he he he.

 

Really? Yes Really. Really?

Hello all....... Boy oh Boy.....I did what I normally do not do. Fell apart today. Because I wanted to change the living conditions of a patient who has advanced cancer and aids. Totally with it mentally, and the conditions. No word an describe.

People I live in one of the largest cities in the USA, and people live like this. Ugh I have been called a tree hugger, socialist, lefty, etc. But I have some OOC crazy radical Conservative views too.
Citizens who milk the system I think should be poked in the eyes until they get off their asses. Citizens who due to a illness that has made them disabled, lost their job, insurance and live off state assistance by damn it they deserve what we all work and pay for. (Sorry I am passionate about these people)

This guy, has no electricity. No gas. He had a campfire stove ridged to a propane tank to boil water for bathing. An extension cord plugged to the neighbor for a power strip for a mini fridge for his medication, and a lamp. REALLY. He is ok with this. I call APS, they tried to help also. He chooses to live with what "God has dealt him" He did ask me for help with meals on wheels. I did that. He needed some supplies that would normally go through paperwork process and will, but I went and got him a few things.

Here is what broke me. I wanted to hug this man and let him cry, but I was scared I would catch scabies....bedbugs....mites.... not even knowing if he had any!!! I am not scared of disease, but bugs.....

My heart ached for this guy. He will die alone in that house.

I came home, stripped and put my clothes in the wash. And cried. I am so so thankful for what I do have.
I have lived almost 40 years with wanting more....better. Life is not about more or better. Its about quality, and love. Compassion and dignity. Being comfortable in your own skin. Proud of everything you have. Grateful.

I am so grateful and humble right now. I am content with my life.
I am blessed to be a part of these people's lives. They teach me. I help them. Win Win.

Ok its Friday, yippie effing hooray!!

Oh the joy of Friday.......BS. My boss has thrown a teleconference in last minute at the end of the day. You know my plan was to put my computer on hibernate and IM volume up and vegetate from 2:30 on. That is ruined, really I guess you do have to work during work.

I get to go to my first school dance with my kids tonight. I am so excited. Well not really, all the school functions I have attended have sucked royally. The end of one can bring a tear of joy when they are over. Don't get me wrong, it's not my kids, it's the horrific planning of the school. The other parents who bring their screaming younger kids that end up over shadowing whatever my child is doing.

I am not a pessimist, I promise. I used to be a total pessimist.
I used to smoke,was wild, broke the rules. Non Conformist. Wait, I still am a non conformist. I am so ready for it to be 5.

I have loved and dreamt of Johnny Depp for like EVER....until I watched The Tourist. What was that? Huge disappointment. I still am to upset to put words to it.

Today I get to go visit a man, full blown aids, protruding anal/rectal cancer......to talk to him about hospice. He is young, is living in a "unsafe" environment per APS. (Yea me) That could be the reason I am in a funk.
Hospice.....it is so hard to look at a person in the face you don't know well and talk about them dying. When they "Get it" and the terror in their eyes. Boils to the core of my inner being to try and fix it. Pull out my tools, rabbit out of a hat and let magic happen - poof! They are cured. Never happens. The last time I tried to walk on water I nearly drowned. However the feeling still hits me every time.

Its time to hit hit the road in Bruce (my Mini) wish me luck.

Tales from "Behind the Red line" (Surgery)

Oh my where to start.......the operating room has been a passion for me since I was in high school. I love the smell of a fresh OR suite in the morning mixed with coffee. After a while you can distinguish smells.....to organ type. Yes it's true, and some faint. We true surgical peeps laugh at them. (sorry). I was pondering some things that have happened to me over the years. I will share, some of you will be grossed out, but you will read....

First thing about surgery.....we have seen all bodies naked in all forms, we don't care what you look like asleep. Well not completely. Groom your feet, bathe, and disclose things that might be a surprise once you are asleep, like the woman with a penis. (Happened, I panicked)

If you have a foreign body in your ass, like a Full Size Yankee Jar Candle (YES) don't try and BS your way into "I fell on it" We don't care, but will talk about it.

Please poo prior to surgery, I cannot do poo. I have vomited many a time in my mask cleaning you.

When you have a abscess or something brewing on your body go to the Dr, not the ER at 11pm Friday night. There will be a sadist general surgeon who will call out the call team to cut it open. We will say bad things about you, but really ment for the MD.

I once answered a very attractive Dr's flip phone (back when a flip phone was new) on his pants under his gown, dear God was that embarrassing.

I had to prep (clean) a young 20 somethings ding dong (penis) to do a circumcision. Not bad right? Wrong. The young man was awake, and not numbed, and very overweight, and I am in a full on man sweat digging to find it, yes really. How do you say aloud "I cant find it" while the guy is laying there awake. I swear the urologist just sat there waiting on me like some sort of evil mantis of a person finding comic relief in my pure internal torture.

More F-Bombs are dropped in the OR, and the music choices of  some Surgeons.....but you are asleep. Thank God.

I spoke once very babdly about a whining surgeon with my supervisor and fellow coworker cracking up, unknowing the squawk box was on to the area the Dr was sitting. (Shame)

We tied a anesthesiologist to his chair while asleep during a surgery and then tried to contain ourselves as he fell over with his chair when he awoke. He would yell at the top of his lungs when he saw me in the hallways..."I managed to stay the F....k awake today". Oh dear Bahahahahahaha

I ran a code blue on a patient on call over a weekend just me and anesthesia, hard work....revived the lady, and I swear on my life the radio was playing "I will survive". Yes that Sh!t happened.

Oh the stories........so many. Thousands.

Favorite quote from a fellow Red Headed surgical RN "You know you are an OR nurse when you are shoving a sponge stick in a stranger's vagina doing a prep....while telling your scrub nurse your favorite chili recipe" Thanks to my sister from another mother!!

Until Later.....ALi-Gator

Motovation......please find me.

OK, so this morning I am waiting on my coffee to brew......I am so tired (another random insomnia night) after 5mg of Melatonin and 50mg of Benadryl slumber took me, yet needed to keep me 6-7 more hours this morning.
I am dreading going to visit a new patient today. Normally that is not the case, but you see this guy has an address, and something tells me its not a "Dwelling" bus, box, van, outside tent is what I really am visioning. Oh and its in one of the famous "Wards" here in this big city. Oy Vey! (and I'm not Jewish).
Anyway for my own protection I will wear my "Uniform" for especially bad areas. Red Cross shirt, and black leggings showing my tattoos, and my 8 hole Doc Martins.
Melatonin really delivers a punch in the form of wicked dreams. I awake almost exhausted from them. I have been battling aliens and Charlie Sheen with knitting needles while riding a dragon (really a unicorn) naked with toast strapped to my legs like gladiator bling.
Today is Thursday, my favorite day of the week. No reason just is.
My voicemail light is on my work line (terror fills me, that means I have to listen. Maybe a complaint....need...want..."why don't I have my power chair that will drive me to get a hamburger"....(really happened).I am whining, and this is what I do when I am tired like any child. Cranky and sour.
I am wondering what the theme will be today. You see every day that I go out into the field, a theme appears. For example - drive through fried chicken and adult video shops count 6 within a 1/4 mile. Or themes that involve me. You see I pride myself with being "different" dancing to my own drum, non conforming with a rare eclectic taste in music right...? Yet I will be driving and singing Lady Gaga Poker Face, knowing every lyric. Or Rhianna's Umbrella ella ella. Those are themes. Right now "Why do you build me up-buttercup baby just to break me down" is repeating itself in my head. Theme.
There are real reasons to write first thing in the morning, look at the ground I have covered.....ridiculous. Its like a never ending rant of thoughts. Can you imagine my Oscar speech?! Way past time, the music would be playing, I would go of on a tangent and embarrasses myself and all I would be thanking.

Here is a image that made me laugh this morning. Add some red hair and yep. So nobody can ever say I stereotype or don't know how minorities feel. Oh yeah baby I do. I live it myself, not only being a redhead (which is a endangered species of hair I hear) but white suburban chick smelling of Aveda hair products and Dolce & Gabbana in the... yes - Ghetto.

People, friends, stalkers......enjoy your Thursday.

Hey for additional amusement chek out my new favorite E-Card site. http://www.bluntcard.com/

WTH? Crazy day.....I call Tuesday.

One might say I am not the most conventional writer. I am not, this is true. I have written for years, as part of dealing with stress (therapist suggested some years ago) anyway to much chagrin, there is a great deal of humor that goes along with my life. I can embrace it, or lay in the fetal position taking a multitude of drugs while covered in a quilt. We will revisit that later.
Anyway.....typical day. Buzz Buzz Buzz.....Snooze......Buzz Buzz Buzz....Snooze, yeah about a hour of this. Get kids up, get myself ready for my outing "in the field" this means me going to see patients that are on government assistance. Lets also just say its the highest crime laden area of town. Mini Cooper (Bruce) keeps me safe, most unpractical car ever, however "cute". It shines like a huge neon sign......I don't belong here, please don't try and sell me drugs, or better yet rob me. 
I pull up to a known crack apartment complex, and sit. Can I do this? Should I do this? Why in the hell am I doing this? I get out and wander around until I find the correct apartment.
Knock Knock on the door, wait. Ferrel cats are wandering around meowing. Poor crack cats. The door opens and a voice says "come on in" Hmmmm yeah. So I do. Why? I am a RN and its my job, a patient is inside that I need to see, not to deliver care like home health (that would be sensible right?), but to do an assessment for the state. Of course "he" is in the back room of the apartment....Wishing I had a gun ready, however due to job regulations, I am not allowed to carry one "inside patients homes". I go on back to find a paraplegic in the bed, pretty well naked, not pretty well, but well naked. Poop bag, urine bag check, kinda like jewery. Nice.... that burned into my brain.  At least this poop bag was not sealed to the abdomen via "Wonderbread bag and ducktape" I walk over and sit in a chair. I glance around the room only to notice a bedside table with a large ashtray, 2 guns, a  large kitchen knife, and wow, a large can of generic Roach spray. I start to absorb the smell of chain smoking, an unidentifiable odor I cannot pinpoint. I do my assessment. I glance down 30 minutes in and notice a slew, yes a slew of  German cockroaches. I wrap it up now in 30 seconds. Bam! back  to the car, bathing in hand sanitizer to the point I probably would fail a breath a lizer. Onto the next stop..... a shanty, yes people a shanty. A whopping 200 square feet of 2 bedroom luxury. I am watching the "workin girls" walk the street, and wondering how do they make money....? I enter the Shanty after I notice - people- a freaking old rusted carnival carousel in the side yard. I remind myself I am not in the twilight zone. Mice (also we can revisit my paranoia of mice later), a trash can size box of mothballs wide open. Where does one even find a trash can size box of mothballs? I continue with my questions, check out the house (shanty), then get back in the car. My day is done at this point. I will get home, strip to nothing at the front door placing my clothes straight into the wash. I now will have about 60 pages of state forms to fill out. 
You might ask why? I ask the same thing. Its my quest to fill the passion in my heart for ill people. I see a new way of life everyday. It disturbs  and rattles the cage inside my soul at times. The sights can be quite haunting. Some insane moments are filled with inappropriate laughter. Some filled with tears. I still ask why? 
My nursing career has been very eventful. Trauma, holding a human heart in my hand, talking to a patient thats awake during brain surgery. Maggots in wounds. (that we will revisit). Making people better "one dick at a time" from the mouth of a urologist. Holding the hand of a hospice member as they die, when no family is there. Death clean up and body bags. Telling a family their loved one has not made it. CPR not on a dummy. Laughing hysterically during 10 hour marathon plastic surgery cases. Sitting up and down the patient to make sure her "boobs" are perfect. Dead bowel surgery that I vomited the entire surgery into my mask. Cochlear implants, and watching kids hear for the first time. Getting written up for making a fake turd. Was not my fault it was wrapped in a blanket, and a super anal nurse accidentally laid it on a patient. (Holy cow that was funny). Delivery babies-7.
That is just some of what I have done, and the most rewarding is what I do now. Going to the ghetto, internally screaming while I speak calmly to the ones who need me. So many suck the system we call healthcare. Despite all the bad apples, there are true gems that need a advocate and a person to fight for them. That is me.
This is my rambling all over the map first attempt at a blog. Its real, it sucks, it will make you think. I hope some find it funny at times. It is only the beginning.
Keep smiling.