Sssnnooooowwwwww!!!

The weekend before Christmas, this region was hit with the biggest snowstorm we've had in several years. News outlets called it "the storm of the century". How do they know? We're only nine years into this century, for Pete's sake! Anyway, Roanoke got about 2 feet of snow and nearly totally shut down. I had to go to work because hospitals never close. I really didn't have much trouble getting to work, and not just because my Jeep has 4WD. If people would drive slower and in a lower gear, they shouldn't have too many problems. If you drive like a moron, you'll land in a ditch!
The Call ins for Saturday morning started at 1130 pm. "There's.....snow......on the road!". No kidding. Snow is not selective, it falls where it wants to! "I can't see the road." See above. I wasn't very sympathetic. After all, I drove to Roanoke from the West Virginia mountains and I made it! Our monitor tech, Kerry, sat on I-81 for forever because a couple of trucks wrecked and blocked traffic. It took her 11 hours, but she showed up for work! She should get a raise for that! The roads were a little better on Saturday. All of the night shift staff came to work. Sunday call outs started at 1030pm, again. We scrounged together enough people to cover the unit. We survived the "big storm" and maintained the quality of care that I would want for anyone in my family.
At home, we got three feet of snow. Snow is a part of winter and the DOH crews do a fabulous job keeping the roads cleared. This snow fell so fast that they just couldn't keep up. A 6pm curfew was called by the Sheriff's department to keep people off of the road. There were a bunch of cars stranded in ditches already! By the time I got home Monday morning, the main roads were cleared and secondary roads were passable.
Last night, the snow started falling when I got to Covington, VA. It fell sporadically until I got to the highway leading to my home. Then, it came down heavily. The wind was strong enough to knock my car crazy! At times, the wind gusts and snow made for white out conditions. Slow down, be careful, keep both hands on the steering wheel, pray without ceasing. I got home safely. This morning, the snow that had fallen was gone (the snow from the weekend before is still here and probably will be till August!).
Snow makes the fields and mountains take on a different character. It smells fresh. The flakes fall like little feathers and float on the wind. Snow is one of my favorite things about winter . I love snow...........until April!

Gifts of the Wise Men

My kids learned a lot when they went to Sunday School. The Childrens' Minister, "Ms. Joyce" Dennis made learning Biblical truths fun. Her teaching has stayed with the kids as they have progressed into their adult years.
When Elliott was about five, he learned about the Wise Men and the gifts they brought to the baby Jesus. We give gifts to each other today because these men gave gifts to this very special baby on the first Christmas. Eyes sparkling, shaking with excitement at his new knowledge, Elliott listed these gifts for the rest of us in the car on the way home from church: "Gold, aaannnnd Myrrh, aaaannnnnd, uh, Frank......And, uh, Frank.......And, uh Frank......Oh yeah, Frankinatra!!!". Trying (very hard) to control my laughter, I gently explained to Elliott that Frankensence was the name of the gift, then explained what it is. Frank Sinatra was a singer, famous as one of the "Rat Pack" members, who's birthday was on December 12.
Frankinatra has become one of my favorite Christmas memories. Had God not sent His Son on that first Christmas so many years ago, we would have no need to celebrate. Thank you, God, for Your most precious gift to us, and for memories of special times.

Cold and dark

Yesterday, just as I discovered that the basement had flooded (AGAIN!), our power went off. Dave and I squeegeed as much water as we could into the sump pump but, of course, it won't come on without electricity! A call to the power company let us know that they were already aware that the power was out. It would be restored by 11:30 pm. OK. When the going gets tough, the tough go shopping!
We bought a few staples of life: toilet paper and paper towels! When we got back home, Dave called to check on the progress of our power repair. Power will be restored by 6:00 pm TOMORROW!
Holy Cow! When the going gets really tough, the wimpy take a nap! That's just what I decided to do. Why is it that when I decide to nap, Dave has to wake me up to ask me what I'm doing? What does it look like I'm doing?!? Do I look like I'm solving our country's economic crisis? He decided to go visit his dad.
When I woke up, it was dark. The wind was howling. The cats were freaking out! This is not part of their routine! Dave had lined up our oil lamps, lighter, and flashlight on the kitchen counter. I lit the smaller lantern and went back to the bedroom. Half a dozen cats, a fleece blanket, and my knitting were all I needed. I worked away on a baby dress for Abbey, paying no attention to time. I fixed myself a dinner of left over ham, an orange, and a diet coke. I ate dinner by oil lamp light. How rustic!
Shortly after Dave called to let me know that he was on his way home, the power came back on! Lights, Heat, TV!! Just in time for Jeopardy! The basement flood dried up with the help of the propane heater. Things aren't so bad after all!

Thankful

A year ago, we were getting Chris settled into our house. He was still reeling from getting dumped and cheated on. A year later, he is about to start a new job with a promising future. He has a wonderful girlfriend. He is happy.
A year ago, Catie and Ben were grieving the loss of their baby. A year later, they are eagerly awaiting the birth of their daughter. While Buddah will always be a part of their lives, Abbey will be the answer to hundreds of prayers.
A year ago, Elliott was dealing with problems that none of us could even imagine, especially since he was afraid to share those problems with us. A year later, he and Samantha have worked out their problems and have a beautiful baby boy. He is waiting to hear about a job with the Huntington Fire Department. Sam is about to graduate from college.
A year ago, Dave was recovering from yet another foot surgery. A year later, he is healthy and has had no problems with his foot.
It's been nearly a year since Thom died. Jenny has done a great job with Donna and John. Thom is watching over them and they will see him again. They will be OK.
Seventeen years after his divorce, Russ has remarried. He has met his match in Nikki. They compliment each other.
By the end of 2008, I could have been ready to give up. Instead, I chose to study God's word and "pray without ceasing". The challenges we face teach us perseverance. Perseverance teaches us patience. Patience will lead to joy. God is ever present. He will never let us face our challenges alone. That thought is what I'm most thankful for.

Bugged part 2

OK, so here's what I learned about Scabies (anyone with a loved one in a nursing home or a child should take note!):
Scabies is caused by a tiny mite that burrows under the skin and lays its eggs. The itching is caused by an allergic reaction to the mite. The rash is usually found on the hands, arms, legs, and skin folds (behind knees, in elbows). The rash is red and raised, like acne. The rash can be present for two to three weeks after treatment, but no new pustules should appear. The treatment is icky, but easy. Slime the prescription cream all over, from neck to toes including the bottom of the feet (babies should have it applied to their scalp, as well). Eight to fourteen hours after the application, shower or bathe with soap and warm water. Reapply after one week to be sure that the eggs that hatch out are killed. Clothing that was worn from three days before the break out and bedding should be washed in hot water and dried in the dryer at a hot setting. Non washable items (stuffed toys, rugs) should be placed in a plastic bag in the basement or garage until the mites die. Carpeting should be vacuumed thoroughly. For the itching, Benadryl tablets and/or cream should help the symptoms. Family members or people who have close contact with the bugged one should also be treated. The scabies mite that attacks humans will not attack cats or dogs. The mite that attacks cats and dogs does not attack people. Don't let anyone tell you that it was "that dog" or "that cat" that infested your house!
I hate that I caught these things. I look horrible! But maybe what I have learned will help someone else. Scabies is not something that just the poor or dirty person gets. Anyone can get it!

Bugged!

I broke out in a rash Friday evening while I was at work. It's a coarse looking red rash with what looks like blisters in the center. It itches like crazy! It was mostly on my right forearm and hand. I thought I might have caught something from a patient, but Saturday afternoon, when I woke up, I found a small critter crawling on the bed. EEEWWWWWW!!! I put it in a Ziploc bag. The rash had spread to my forehead, neck, left arm and legs.I didn't go in to work Saturday night. Instead, I went to the urgent care center. The doctor took one look at my rash and my little friend and said "You have Scabies!". EEEWWWWWW!!!!! I got a prescription for some nasty smelling bug killing cream. I had to smear it all over me and leave it on overnight. This morning, I washed it off. I don't know if it was supposed to pull the bugs out of my skin, but the rash is more diffuse. Still itches like crazy. I look like I have some flesh eating plague! Benadryl has become my best friend. I jusdt hope it's gone by Friday. I wouldn't want to go back to work and creep everyone out!

On the road again

Whirlwind tours!I love them! I got home from work last Wednesday, unloaded the car, packed my smaller bag, and took off again Thursday morning. I met Catie at her house and we headed south to Charlotte for her baby shower. Back on the road Sunday to get Catie home. On to Huntington to see Elliott, Samantha, and Bryce. Home again Monday afternoon. Whew! It's a good thing I like my car, I practically live in it!

Friday, we took Ma to lunch for her (late) birthday. We ate at the Cheesecake Factory. Really good food, but much richer than we are used to. After lunch, we walked around Southpark Mall. Southpark is what they call "upscale". For us regular people, that means expensive. We looked in a couple of childrens' specialty shops. Ma picked up a little blue dress, 6 month size. I can't imagine why anyone would pay $129 for a dress that a baby will wear for such a short time. Not to mention what the baby will get on the dress! I've decided that a store like that is for two types of people: grandmas who buy that stuff for their little angels, and grandmas like me who look for ideas, then make cute stuff for their little angels. We use the money we save to add to their college accounts!

The baby shower was a lot of fun. Carol, Catie's friend for forever (kindergarten, at least), was the hostess. We had a veggie tray and a fruit tray that the three of us put together, a chicken nugget tray from Chic-fil-a, and a beautiful cake that Carol's mother made. Kathy, Ma, Carol's mom Joyce, and I were the "old ladies" of the group. Carol, Alissa, Alicia, Becca, and Catie were the "young 'uns". The girls have been friends since at least middle school. Catie, Becca, and Carol go back to kindergarten. They talked about being married, having kids, careers, and old times at school. When the name Josh came up, we all laughed. Josh was the boy who was in the same day care class with Catie. When she was 18 months old, he bit her arm. When she told me about "that mean old Josh", her eyes were huge and she was very serious. She finished telling me about the bite by saying "and that was not nice". I reminded the girls of that story and they all recounted their "Josh stories". We planned for the shower to last about 2 hours. Before we knew it, 4 hours had passed! It's amazing to see how 5 girls can get together after two or three years and pick up right whee they left off! Good friends are a treasure and Catie is very rich!

We didn't spend as much time with Ma and Pop as I would have liked, but it wasn't possible. I always fear that each time I see them will be the last. They are both 85, Pop has had a stroke, Ma has chronic heart problems. I doubt that one will live long without the other. That's just the way they are.

We made the drive home in record time. Catie was able to take a much needed nap while I went to see Sam and Bryce. Bryce is getting to be a chubby little fellow! He's got chubby cheeks and little rolls on his legs. He has fussy time. I explained that to Sam. It's the time of evening when babies feel the need to decompress. They cry and kick for no apparent reason. Bryce had just eaten, he had burped, he was dry and warm. He just felt the need to fuss! Eventually, he fell asleep on my lap. I am smitten!

Today, I hung the curtains over Abbey's closet. They're perfect! Then, I drove home. I'm tired!

Elliott's hat

It was a beautiful, blustery fall day. Three year old Elliott was standing beside the driveway while I unloaded groceries from the car. Elliott usually wore overalls (the straps make a great handle for mom to grab) and today was no exception. He was wearing a blue baseball cap, too. Well, not really wearing it, he was throwing it up in the air and trying to catch it. The part of our yard where he was standing was next to a vacant lot that was overgrown with briers. I told Elliott to quit throwing his hat because the wind would blow it into the woods. Elliott paid me no attention. I told him again, with a little more edge to my voice, that he needed to STOP throwing his hat. After delivering another handful of grocery bags to the kitchen, I came back to the car. Elliott's hat was gone. I asked him where it was and he pointed to the woods. There was his hat, stuck fast in a clump of briers.
"Elliott!" I said in exasperation. "Now I'll have to go get it! You stand RIGHT HERE until I get your hat."
There was no way to get directly to the hat. I had to walk about 5 feet further down the driveway, then pick my way around until I got to it. I retrieved the hat and turned around to pick my way out of the woods. There, hot on my heels, was Elliott!
"ELLIOTT! I told you to stay put until I got your hat. Now you turn around and go right back the way you came!"
Elliott attempted to turn around, but was tangled in a long, wiry brier. He pulled and tugged, but could not get loose. He looked at me, his bright blue eyes as big as saucers. "Holy shit, Momma, I'm stuck!"
I put his hat over my face and turned my head. I couldn't let him see me laugh, that would only make him think that what he said was OK! When I regained my composure, I untangled him and we picked our way out of the woods.
Out of the mouths of babes..........

Laundry

I spent part of the weekend helping Catie do laundry. I could spend another weekend getting it caught up. She HATES doing laundry! I suppose part of that hatred is my fault. I used to fuss about laundry. When the kids were big enough to put their dirty clothes in a hamper, the rule was: not in a hamper, not getting washed! Don't tell me three days later that you need a certain shirt tomorrow. Wash day is Saturday! As they got older, clothes had to be in my sewing room, sorted, by 5pm Friday or they wouldn't get washed. I do laundry once a week. Period. The kids all wash clothes on an as needed basis. Drives me nuts!
Laundry is a part of my family history. When my grandfather died, three months before Ma was born, my grandmother had no real marketable skills. Add to that, she "weren't from around here". She was an Irish immigrant. To support her family during the depression, she "took in laundry". She had an old wringer washer and a clothes line. She would wash and hang out clothes, iron and fold them. If itwas cold or raining, the clothes were hung on the porch. When she got her first "automatic" washer and dryer, I'll bet she felt like she had died and gone to heaven!
Ma was funny about laundry, too. NOBODY touched her washer or dryer! Laundry was done on Saturday (as it was in my house....laundry day is hereditary!). Wash, dry, fold, iron. As we grew up, Kathy and I were allowed to help with the laundry, especially the fold and put away part! When she was 75 years old, with her left wrist in an external fixator, she was washing,starching, and ironing Bud and Russ' shirts. No matter how much I fussed (Let them do their own wash!), she continued doing their laundry. To this day, she just celebrated her 85th birthday, she's still washing, starching, ironing Bud's and Pop's shirts. I think she enjoys it.
I used to hate laundry. When we first got married, we had to take everything to the laundrymat.It was a chore! When we bought our house, I got a washer and dryer. Pure joy! Saturday was laundry day, as I explained above. I'm only washing for Dave and me now, with the occasional load of Chris' stuff. Chris is welcome to do his own laundry, provided that the washer and dryer are empty when I need them. Ironing is not something I do regularly. I believe that God gave us permanent press fabrics for a reason! I don't mind doing laundry anymore. It's a satisfying feeling to see the piles of dirty clothes become neatly folded stacks of clean clothes or a row of neatly hung shirts. Laundry day can be a day well spent.

Vacation!!

Fro the first part of my vacation, I did laundry. Lots of laundry. Mostly tiny pink things. Catie has received a ton of baby clothes from friends and, of course, we have gone shopping! All of baby Abbey's clothes have been washed, folded/hung, and sorted into sizes. The 0-3 and 3-6 month sizes are in Abbey's room. The rest will be stored until she grows into them. I've finished making 2 sheets for Abbey's bed. Next week, I'll make 2 more, the curtains, and the bedskirt. When Catie gets the fabric, I'll make curtains to cover her closet door (the sliding door never stayed on the track, so they took the door down. Dave helped to put the furniture for Abbey's room together. It's going to be a really neat room. Who would ever have thought of painting a baby's room hot pink and black with white trim?

We went to see Elliott, Sam and Bryce. Bryce is already 2 weeks old! He's such a cutie! He has long legs and even longer toes! Just like Elliott, he has "fingers for toes". He has a little blond fuzz all over his head. It's almost long enough to be a baby mullet! He got a little fussy, so Sam took him and fed him. Elliott brought him back to visit us after he finished eating. He was kind enough to spit up on my shirt. I guess I have been accepted by Bryce! Elliott is a good daddy. He gets up with Sam during the night and does diaper duty. He handles Bryce confidently and seems to know what he's doing. It's hard to imagine my baby having his own baby.

A new blessing

Bryce Landon Curry was born at 10:29 am yesterday morning. He weighed 7lbs 7oz and was 20 inches long. From the pictures I've seen, he's a beautiful little boy. Mom and dad are doing well. They will be discharged from the hospital tomorrow.
Elliott called me at about 10:30 Saturday night to tell me that Sam's water broke (while they were at work!) and they were on their way to the hospital. I was at work, 5 hours away. We kept in touch with text messages. At 3:30, Elliott let me know that Sam had been given an epidural. He wanted to know "how much longer it will take?". With a great deal of authority, I said "he'll be here at 10:25". How was I to know I would be so close. I guess you just have to know these things when you're the Queen! Actually, a 12 hour labor is not bad for a first baby.
Babies are such miracles. It's hard to imagine how two little cells can come together, then divide until a whole new person is formed. They are blank slates. They can become anything they want. I pray for love and wisdom for little Bryce's parents. They have been blessed beyond measure.

I'm knitting for two

No, I'm not pregnant. If I were, I'd advise everyone to look into the sky because you'd see a star shining in the east! I'm knitting for two grand babies. A boy, Bryce, due in a couple of weeks. A girl, Abbey, due in February. Knitting for babies is so much fun! I can work up a cute little sweater in no time, rather than spending days knitting on the back of an adult sweater. Plus, baby things are soooo much cuter!

For Bryce, Ive made a couple of sweaters, including a teeny tiny little blue sweater, sox, and hat that he'll grow out of in about a week! I've made a couple of blankets, some washcloths (not my favorite thing to knit!), more sox, and a couple of hats. I've been sewing, too. A cute little Halloween sleep sac and quilt, a bunch of receiving blankets, and some burp cloths.

I'm just getting started on baby Abbey's things. Receiving blankets, dresses, sweaters, sox, hats, and a whole nursery set with sheets, a bed skirt, curtains, and a quilt. Abbey's room will be hot pink and black. Very cutting edge!

Knitting and sewing for the babies has become my second occupation and I couldn't be happier! I have way more ideas than I have time or money, but if I write things down, I'll get lots done! I have a couple of weeks of vacation coming up. I should be able to put a big dent in my "baby stash"!

Grief and kitties

Smokey died peacefully in her sleep this week. She was a Maine Coon mix rescue that we got when Catie was nine. That would make her about 17 years old at the time of her death. That's a long life for a cat that started out in an abusive home. Catie sent her to live with me a few years ago. She was afraid of coming home in the evening and finding Smokes dead. Better that I should find her! She always had a kind of cross eyed look and the tip on her tongue would stick out of her mouth. The kids called that her "crack baby face". She was allergic to flea saliva. It made her fur fall out. As she got older, she had difficulty grooming her long blue-gray coat. If I attempted to comb her, she would bite! It was the only time she ever displayed negative behavior. Elliott shaved her matted fur a few months ago. She looked funny until her coat came back in. It was as beautiful as ever. Good by Smokey, we'll miss you.
Along with this sadness, I am going to have to take MawMaw and Skuttles to the vet to be put down. Skuttles was born with "flipper feet", her little back legs were splayed out flat under her hips. I was overjoyed when she got strength enough to stand up on them. Sadly, as she has gotten older, her hips have become more unstable and she has not been eating. She spends most of her time sleeping. When she walks, she is in agony. I can't let her suffer any longer.
MawMaw is about 15 years old. Another elderly cat at the end of her life. She was content living in the basement until a couple of weeks ago. I think she wanted to spend some time with us so she could say good by. She has always been a sweet tempered cat, and a good momma. She loves nothing more than a cuddle and a scratch between her ears. Her kidneys are failing. She passes what looks like Coke, in very small amounts. She sleeps a lot now, too. Again, I can't let her suffer.
It's hard to say good by to faithful friends. I will miss all of these girls. As my cats age and I no longer breed kittens, I will be doing this more often. Fortunately, we can be kind to our elderly pets. We have the option of "putting them down" when their days become nothing but misery. I will not euthanize any of my cats to "get rid of them". I will do it because I love them enough to say good by in order to ease their suffering.
I love you, girls.

Doors

Doors are wonderful things. They protect us from bugs, varmints, weather, and thugs. They keep little children and animals from wandering outside unattended. They also seem to confuse some folks.
Have you ever needed to run into a store (Wal-Mart or Target, for example) to pick up a couple of things? You have your plan mapped out before you get out of your car. You follow someone else through the door and.......SCREECH!!! That person, or group, comes to a dead halt! Just inside the door! They look around in a daze as if they've never been to such a place before. A look of awe and wonder crosses their face. Add you can't get around them! No matter how hard you try, that person/group gets w i d e r and w i d e r! You're stuck until they decide to take a couple of steps. It's even worse at Christmas. You are at the mercy of the awestruck at every mall or store. Even the local Quickie Mart! All you want is a Diet Coke and you have to turn into a linebacker to get in the door! Arggghhhh!
Elevators, another great invention, have doors. When the doors open, those wanting to get in should wait until those wanting to get off leave. That makes sense. NOPE! Those wanting to get in push their way in leaving those wanting to get off working like a salmon swimming upstream to get out! It's not like the doors will close on you! There's an electric eye that prevents anyone from getting squashed by the door. There's also a "door open" button on the inside that some nice person will push to hold the door open. It's just manners!
When I was growing up, everyone was welcome at our house. "The door is always open" is something that Ma and Pop believed in. For years, the back door was never locked. The 'fridge door was there for anyone to get what they wanted. One morning, one of Russ' friends was taking inventory in the 'fridge. Ma and her mom, who we called Mama, were sitting at the dining room table. Without looking up from the paper, Ma said "Get what you want, get out, and shut the door!". Mama told her that she might want to see who she was yelling at before she said anything, "That one's not yours!". Ma said that any kid who came through her door was "hers" and she treated all of us the same. Years later, even if it's just once a year, some of "hers" still stop by to see her. The door is always open.

Daddy, I'm hot!

Dave and I cut costs wherever we can. We've done it for years. We were cheap years before the current economic crisis hit. When the kids were little, Dave drove a 1967 VW Beetle that was painted about 10 different colors of primer. It was the ugliest car in the world! It was also pretty dependable. Dave could fix it with a bobby pin and duct tape! Our neighbor across the street HATED it! We lived at the end of a dead end street. Dave would always park the bug in the yard at the end of the street, right up against the armco barrier. Mr. Neighbor would stand on his porch and glare at Dave as he walked down the driveway to the front door. One afternoon, a police officer parked in front of our house and studied the ugly bug very carefully. Dave walked out to talk to the officer. Officer Friendly told him that the bug was reported as an "abandoned car". Dave pointed out that the car had a current tag, current inspection,and showed him proof of insurance. Dave explained that the car was just ugly and he wasn't aware of any laws against ugly cars. Officer Friendly laughed, shook Dave's hand, and was on his way. D'ya think Mr. Neighbor called the cops about an "abandoned car"? Hmmmmm.......
One summer afternoon when I was at work, Dave took the kids out to run some errands. 1967 Beetles did not have air conditioning. I think the only option on the car was a radio that worked part time! As they putted around town, Catie said "Daddy, I'm hot."
"Of course you're hot, Cate. It's summer. We're all hot!"
"But Daddy, I'm really hot"
"We're all hot Catherine."
"No, but Daddy, I'm REALLY hot!" (Cate begins to whimper)
"That's enough Catherine. Everybody in the car is hot. The boys aren't whining." (Daddy is losing his patience with his little princess.)
"But Daaaddddeeeeee!!!!"
"Catherine, I don't want to hear any more out of you. It's hot We're all hot. We'll be home soon!"
Catie pouted in the back seat the rest of the way home. The car ride was silent.
When they arrived home, Dave helped Catie out of the back seat. It is important to note here that Catie always wore sundresses in the summer when she was little. When Dave lifted Catie out of the back seat, he noticed that her bottom felt very warm. He set her down (Mr. Neighbor was, of course, watching from his front porch. This part must have been interesting to him!)) and lifted her skirt. Her bottom was bright red! He hustled the kids into the house, then came back out and took the back seat out of the bug. To his horror, there was no box covering the battery (The battery in old bugs was under the back seat, covered by a battery box). Whenever the bug hit a bump, pothole, train track, whatever, the battery terminals came in contact with the springs in the back seat. When contact was made, Catie would get a little shock! She wasn't kidding, she really was hot! Poor little cooked Catie. Poor Dad, he felt guilty for fussing at her.
A little ice cream helped to ease Catie's hurt feelings. A new battery box made sure that she never got that hot again!

Meet Booger

How many cats is too many? I think the correct answer is 21. With the family cats that I am (permanently) fostering, that's how many I have inside. There are 2 of Chris' outside, plus Miss Kitty, our favorite feral. We now have a black momcat and her two kittens. Oh, and Wonky Eyed Cat. Poor wonky, he's been really sick. Last time I saw him, it looked like his face was oozing down his chin! We debated having him put down, but he disappeared before we could catch him. I'm assuming that he went off by himself and died. That would be a blessing because he would definitely not live through the winter.
Booger is one of Black Momcat's babies. He was looking really pathetic last week. His eyes and nose were running and he was on the thin side. What could I do? I couldn't leave him to die when the weather turns cold. I took him to the vet. $125 later, I know that he is Feline Leukemia negative, he has no fleas, and he will need eye ointment and antibiotics for several days. I'd hate to think about how much that vet appointment would have cost if I had neglected to explain that Booger is a feral kitten!
Once we got home, I set Booger up in an isolation cage in the basement. Good food, fresh water, a soft bed and a clean litter box were like Heaven to him (he's a boy, I checked!). He ate a few bites, turned around on his bed, plopped down, sighed and went to sleep. He's been our little patient for about 10 days now. He's gotten chubby, his eyes and nose have cleared, and he's cute as can be. He still hisses when I reach to pick him up, but he doesn't claw or bite. He purrs when his ears are scratched. He's a sweet little boy.
Once he's finished up with his medicine, he'll go back to the vet to be neutered and get his Rabies shot, then he'll return to the wild. If he's like the other ferals who have adopted us, he'll live under the porch when the weather is bad, eat when we put out food, and go into the garage when it gets really cold this winter. What's one more cat, anyway?

Early riser

I woke up at 5:30 this morning. Not a good time to be wide awake since I didn't go to bed till 12:30 this morning. I took the time to do a load of dishes and make pancakes. The boys got breakfast in bed!
Waking up with someone, or something, specific on my mind and not being able to go back to sleep bothers me. I worry about something being horribly wrong with that person. This morning, I woke up thinking about Pop. I was thinking that he should dictate his experiences in WWII, Korea, and Vietnam to Bud so that he could type them up. As those in Pop's generation die, many of the "real" stories of what happened during these wars, the Depression, the post war times will be lost. Every story told has some historical significance.
I called and talked to Ma. Pop is fine. He's painting, something he loves to do. They are debating (arguing) their Sunday School lesson. The subject is :God gives us talents, how do we know if/when/how we should use those talents. I told her that was easy, develop the talents and do whatever your mother says! Sorry, Pop, it sounded like the best answer to me!
Now, back to Pop: He was one of a gaggle of kids. I think there were 11 or 12 born, one boy died as a toddler. Pop was a middle child. His dad worked for the Pennsylvania Railroad. His mom was what they called a "looker" in her day. She was a beautiful girl, fair skinned, blue eyed and blond. I was told that a gypsy fortune teller told Grandmother that she would marry a short man who worked for the railroad and they would have 16 children. Grandmother scoffed at the idea, then married my grandfather; a short man who worked for the railroad! They had 12 live births, 4 miscarriages/stillbirths for a total of 16 children. My oldest cousin, Tom, was a month older than my youngest aunt, Nancy.
Pop and all of his brothers except two served in the military during WWII. One was too young, the other was not eligible for health reasons. After WWII, as I have been told, Pop was supposed to become a Baptist Minister. Instead, he stayed in the Air Force and married a Southern girl. Unfortunately, Ma was no genteel southern lady (she is a lady, but she speaks her mind!). She was not the right type of woman to be a minister's wife! Pop never became a minister. He is a Deacon in their church. I told him that he was chosen because they were running out of men to pick! (It's a joke, OK??)
After he retired from the Air Force, we lived in Greenville, SC. When he got the opportunity to teach ROTC in Charlotte, we moved. They have lived in the same house since 1968. While he was teaching, Pop got his BA in Education and his Master of Arts in Education (MAED). Then, he gave up teaching. He started driving a courier truck, making deliveries and pick ups from banks in North and South Carolina. He was told that he was wasting his education, and he was, but he couldn't work within the conventional "walls" of education. He would tell his students historical accounts based on what he had seen and experienced, not based on what the textbooks said. Not a good career move!
I think Pop enjoyed being a courier. He was able to get out and go, he met a variety of people, and he could talk as much as he wanted. There was a coffee cup waiting for him at each of his regular stops. He kept track of how many miles he logged by the day, week, month, and year. He even discovered where Ma's father was buried on one of his trips.
Pop's military retirement meant that he was at home more when Russ, Thom and I were growing up. When Kathy and Bud were little, he would be gone for months at a time. Pop liked to think he ran a tight ship. His favorite phrase was "I'm gonna cut your heart out and make you eat it!". I used to wonder how long I could live without a heart if I was expected to eat it. Would it be fed to me raw or cooked? How would it taste? I was smart enough not to ask! We had a "duty roster" posted on the refrigerator and inspection was every Saturday morning. Our chores had better be done.....or else! Being grounded was way better than getting a whipping with Pop's belt! Saturdays were great! If we passed inspection, Pop would take us out for lunch and to a variety of "interesting" places like the train station or the airport. He did this to get us out of Ma's hair. Ma didn't see it that way. Instead of using this time to do what she wanted to do, she would clean the house. Then, she would feel resentful because she didn't get to go out. I can understand that, now. In the summer, there was always schoolwork. Math problems to solve and reading to do. Reading was especially important to Pop. He tutored in an adult reading program for years. To Pop, teaching someone to read was like giving them an unlimited gift. It could be used forever. I got my love for reading from Pop. He was an excellent tutor with my kids, niece and nephews, too. It wasn't enough to read a book, we were expected to discuss the story and formulate our own opinions about it.
Dinner time at our house was always interesting. Pop could whistle loud enough that every kid in a five mile radius knew it was time to go home for dinner. When he stood on the porch and whistled, everyone scattered! Several of the neighborhood moms expressed appreciation for Pop's whistle. They never had to yell for their kids, they just waited for the whistle! We always discussed something at supper. Current events, arts, history, or just daily happenings were all fair game. One evening, our political discussion became so heated that our next door neighbor almost called the police! She was afraid we were going to start throwing fists! Everyone was entitled to an opinion and we were encouraged to express ourselves. We were never "wrong" unless we could not support our ideas. No matter what the topic, if we had a logical and rational reason for our opinion, it was accepted. It was not always agreed with, but it was accepted!
When Dave asked for my hand (yes, he actually asked my parents' permission to marry me!), Pop took him to the kitchen. They were away from, but not out of, mine and Ma's ear shot. Pop said, "She's just like her mother. Once you take her out of here, you're not bringing her back!". That was how permission was granted. As he prepared to walk me down the aisle, he said, "This is it. You can go home now, if you want to." Then, we stepped into the sanctuary and walked down the aisle. I saw his joy repeated when he watched Catie walk down the aisle not too long ago. He sure loves flirting with bridesmaids!
Pop enjoyed his grand kids, too. My favorite picture of Pop is when Elliott and Colin were about 9 months old. Pop had a baby on each knee with a box of vanilla wafers between them. Thom's Doberman, Shogun, sat on the floor beside the chair. Each baby would get a cookie, Pop would get a cookie, Shogun would get a cookie. This process repeated itself until the box was empty and everyone, including Pop, was asleep. It was an afternoon well spent. Soon, Pop will get the chance to bounce a great-grand baby on his knee.
When Pop had his stroke, I saw first hand how fragile life can be. Pop gave up coffee, something I never thought he'd do. Right after his stroke, he had to have all liquids thickened to a honey thick consistency. Thick coffee tastes as nasty as it sounds! I would sneak and give him regular ice water, carefully explaining how to swallow so he wouldn't aspirate. I'll bet it tasted like heaven! Pop's loss of independence was depressing for him. To this day, he does not like to have someone take him to the bathroom. Bud is an excellent choice for his caregiver. Pop gives orders and Bud, being a good Marine, takes orders. It works for them. While still slurred a little, Pop's speech has improved. I couldn't imagine a worse affliction for Pop than to be unable to talk! He is still able to teach Sunday School and participate in class discussions. His stroke left him weak on his left side. Fortunately, he is right handed so he can still write and paint. He is still able to work crossword and jigsaw puzzles. Little things help him keep his sanity!
Pop's family expected him to become a minister. He became a teacher instead. He used his experiences to teach high school kids military history. He shared his love of reading with his children and grandchildren. He taught us to have a sense of humor as well as a sense of humility (I brought you into this world, I can take you out and make three more just like you!). He used his love of history and reading to teach us about God. We learned to explore the Bible, not just accept the words at face value. We learned to place ourselves in that time in history and think the way people thought then. We were encouraged to take the written words apart and consider what the author was really saying. Only then could we understand what God was saying to us as individuals.
Pop is not without his faults. He can be stubborn as a mule. He can annoy for the sake of annoying. He can swear like a sailor. With all of his faults, I am sure that, when his time comes, he will hear what we all want to hear: "Well done, good and faithful servant." He has "done good".

Rats

Rats are vermin. They spread diseases and misery. They should not be allowed in the workplace. I'm not talking about the rodent type of rats. I'm talking about tattle tails. Those who can't wait to run to the boss and tell all tales, real, imagined, and embellished, on coworkers. I know who the rats are where I work. They tried to bite me. Sorry, girls, it didn't work.
I was called in to the manager's office the other day. Had to leave the bedside of a patient who was coding. Yes, we were trying to save this patient's life and I was told to stop what I was doing to go to the woodshed! I was told that she had received complaints about me from "many of my coworkers". The complaints ran the gamut from I don't do my own work to I don't help others. She added that patients and families had also complained. I was furious (stupid me, I cry when I'm that furious!)! If there were complaints about me from patients and families, I wanted specifics, NOW! Well, she hadn't gotten any complaints from patients or families about me...........So why bring it up?? The complaint from a coworker (only one complaint, mind you) was a complete and total lie. I told mt boss that and asked if she would bring that person in so I could say it to her face! That wouldn't be necessary. However, If I saw anything, I was encouraged to tell her who and what. I don't like rats.
Our conversation shifted to negative attitudes. Fair cop, I have been negative, as has everyone I work with. Some of the most stable. long term nurses on our unit are doing their best to transfer. We discussed the source of my negativity: scheduling issues (ie: always working short), assignments (some always seem to have the "heavy" assignments while others get off easy), and burn out in general. I felt better after that part of the talk, just because I was able to get my frustration out of my system. It's easy to get sucked into negativity. That's why I tend to pull a chair into the hall where my patients' rooms are and do my work there. Again, I was encouraged to come to her with any reports of wrongdoing on the part of coworkers.
I don't like rats. I don't tolerate rats. I will not be a rat. Rats undermine the good will in any workplace. Rats put one person against another. Rats cause paranoia. Rats cause a lack of trust. Rats shouldn't be encouraged.

Cats eat rats!

Catie and crayons

This blog was originally started so I could write down stories from raising my kids. Here's one of my favorite subjects: Catie and crayons.
Catie has always loved coloring. Even today, if she's feeling stressed, or just goofing off, she will grab a coloring book and crayons. I have examples of her artwork dating back to about 1984! Her works have been proudly displayed on my refrigerator for many years. I have a "Hello Kitty" picture hanging there now.
The house where we raised the kids had a laundry room off of the kitchen. It was a small room, separated from the kitchen by a wall and open doorway. I couldn't see what was going on in the kitchen when I was doing laundry. One summer day when Catie was about 4 and Elliott was 18 months old, I came from the laundry room into the kitchen. There stood Catie with Elliott right beside her. On the wall printed in kid scrawl with a magenta crayon was "ELLIOTT".
"Mama, look! Elliott wrote his name on the wall!" Catie's eyes always got huge when she was telling of a rule infraction.
Very gently, and without laughing, I tried to explain why Elliott could not possible have written his name on the wall: "Catie, honey, Elliott could not have written his name on the wall. First, that's higher than he can reach. Second, Elliott can't write. Third, Catie, you have the crayon in your hand!".
A look of horror came onto Catie's face as she looked at the crayon in her hand. Quickly, her hands went behind her back to hide the evidence. "Well, I sure didn't do it!" she said as she backed out of the kitchen.
God gives children adorable faces for a reason. Catie's serious face and huge brown eyes as she proclaimed her innocence were so amusing to me that I couldn't spank her for her misdeed. That face also saved her from biting soap for lying. She did get a "talking to" about how writing should be done on paper, not walls. Of course, I sometimes think a spanking would have been more beneficial. Especially after she wrote on her closet doors and the bathroom vanity!

God is Good!

I have been blessed in more ways than I can ever count. As much as I gripe about him, I have the best husband in the world! He has been a great dad, doing things that some dads would never imagine doing (The drive to Pittsburgh when all three kids were under 8 years old comes to mind!). He and I arranged our work schedules so that the kids always had someone at home for them. He has supported my cat breeding madness, constant knitting ("You didn't hear a thing I just said, did you?" "No, sorry, I'm counting stitches!"), and my away for a week/home for a week work schedule. He can get really cranky, but so can I. Thirty years of marriage has made us more accepting of the occasional crankies because, most of the time things are good. I love him more than I can say.

I have three really good kids. They are grown now, and making their way in the world. They have stumbled here and there, but overall, they're focused. I'm proud of each of them.
Elliott and Samantha are awaiting the birth of their baby boy in October. Sam should graduate from Marshall in December. Elliott is hoping for a job with either the Charleston or Huntington (WV) fire dept.
Catie has graduated from Marshall in May and has a dream job providing developmental services for babies (PT, OT, and parenting skills). She and Ben have a cute house and three rambunctious dogs. Sadly, they lost their first baby last fall. God will provide a healthy baby for them in the future. Ben is a blessing, too. He fits right in with our oddball crowd!
Chris is living with Dave and me for now. He has a part time job and is mulling over his options for the future. I'd like to see him go to college, but that's up to him. I know that he really wants to be a cartoonist, but he needs to pay his bills, too! He has been dating Aaron since January. She's adorable! I hope things work out well for both of them.

I have the best co-workers in the world. For the first time in a long time, I enjoy going to work. The work is the same, nursing doesn't change that much, but the people I work with make those 12 hour night shifts fun! No matter how busy we get, we manage to have sing-alongs or dances at some point each night!

I am relatively healthy, my parents are still living (and healthy), I can pay my bills, my car is in good shape, My roof doesn't leak, and I know that I belong to the one true living God. Who could ask for more??

Girls' Days

Catie and I spent a couple of days at my sister's house on the lake. The trip had nightmare potential.
The original plan was for Catie to take the train to White Sulfur Springs where I would pick her up after I left work and head to NC. The train was running 3 hours late, so I went home instead. I was planning to take a nap till the train arrived, then we would head south. The train did not pull into the station until 4:30 that afternoon (it was due in at 11:30 that morning)! We decided to wait till the next morning to travel.
The drive was easy and we had fun doing our own special kind of "singing"! Ma and my sister-in-law, Jenny, were already there. We sat around and talked for a while, then went to a restaurant on the lake for dinner. The food was great, but it was HOT outside! We even got our waitress to take our picture! Back at the house, we watched continuous coverage of Michael Jackson's death. Friday morning, we went shopping in Asheville. I bought a pair of MBT shoes to wear to work. Catie said that they were the ugliest shoes she's ever seen! They were right pricey, but they are soooo comfortable! We ate lunch at a tea room. Again, the food was good, but it was hot outside! We got back to the house and turned on the TV. Michael Jackson was still dead and the coverage continued. Catie and I went grocery shopping and fixed spaghetti for supper. We spent most of our time chatting and laughing. We never did make it down to the lake.
We drove to Charlotte Saturday morning. The plan was to take Ma home and spend the night at Chris' house since it hasn't sold yet. When we opened up the house, it must have been 130 degrees inside. I couldn't get the power to work. I called Dave and was instructed to call Duke power. I didn't have a phone book! He began fussing about how Ma and Pop must have one, just go to their house! In the meantime, Catie called Ben and he gave us the number. I called Duke Power and got the "automated" menu. I didn't want any of their choices, I just wanted to talk to a person! I finally got a human to answer the call and was told that the power was cut off in May, but they would be glad to turn it back on on Monday. I told her that Monday wouldn't help me any, I need power today! Too bad. So, I called Dave and filled him in. I asked him if he thought we should drive home or get a hotel room for the night. He said he'd call me back. Meantime, Catie and I are driving around Charlotte! He called back and said that Duke power owed us money (we had a credit on the account!) but they cut the power off anyway. He told them to leave the power off and send him a check. He said that he really didn't care what we did. We ate lunch and headed north to Catie's house.
I called Dave later to let him know that I was spending the night at Catie's house. He didn't see why we couldn't come to our house. I told him that Catie wanted to sleep in her own bed (when I got home and saw the condition of my house, I couldn't blame her!) He got snappy and I hung up. Sunday, I picked up Elliott and we met Catie and Ben at the mall. We did the mall crawl and hung out for a while, then I took Elliott to work. I hit the interstate and headed home. Ahhhh........

June is half over......YIKES!!

Where is this year going?? It's nearly half over. What have I accomplished? Well....We've had a litter of Manx kittens, all ready for forever homes. I have gotten a few older cats "fixed" and ready for retirement homes. I have shoveled enough cat poo from litter boxes to power a rocket to the moon and back (several times!). I have made little Hope my travel buddy. She goes to Roanoke with me every week.
At work, I have maintained most of my "flying under the radar" status. This time next year, unless things change, I'll need a new job. Carilion has decided not to continue their housing option for those of us who travel long distances (over 60 miles, one way). In the meantime, I have started the "Bottom Line", a biweekly newsletter updating staff on skin care issues, documentation, and definitions. I have arranged my schedule so that I work 6 nights and am off 8 nights. Not a bad deal. I love what I'm doing. I'm content where I am. As an "old" nurse, I can mentor my younger, newer colleagues so that they are spared from learning some things the hard way, as I did.
I have dealt with anger, hurt, pride, legal issues, and surprise announcements from the kids. My blood pressure is no higher now than it was 6 months ago. My weight may be up about 5 pounds, though! All these years, Ma has been right:"This, too, shall pass". All of our problems are temporary. Most will not significantly alter history or our feelings toward each other. When it comes right down to it, we are, and always will be, a family. We may not always like each other, but we will always love each other. One of us may call another one a sorry, dirty dog, but don't let anyone else say anything evil about us! We stick together. Even those who are added by marriage or long term relationships are family, as if they were born into the clan. We protect and care for them, too.
I have learned that I have a UBO, Unidentified Bright Object, in the left parietal lobe of my brain. Don't know what it is or how long it's been there. I can still walk and talk, sometimes I even make sense, so it just is. I know that I could stand to lose 50 pounds. I'll get around to it someday........or not. I don't like being this heavy, but I'm not miserable, either.
I have knitted dozens of baby hats for the NICU at work. I have knitted a few afghans for babies, socks, scarves, and gloves. I enjoy knitting. It gives me an excuse to sit and watch a ball game or movie. I have made myself a new purse. It's big enough to hold everything, including my camera, laptop, phone and knitting. It has lots of pockets and a ring to hang my keys on so they won't get lost. I have made some baby outfits for gifts (and for "ours"). I enjoy the time I spend sewing. I have played with the embroidery component of my sewing machine. It's a lot of fun!
I have been to a computer class. I've learned how to navigate Windows a little more efficiently. I can use a flash drive. It's not an impressive accomplishment for most people, but I feel a little smarter!
I thought that I hadn't done much this year, but when I look at what I've written and realize that this is the tip of the iceberg, I guess I haven't wasted as much time as I thought I had. I hope the next 6 months is equally productive!

Flag Day

Yesterday was Flag Day. The day we celebrate the American Flag.
It was also Thom's birthday. It's hard to believe that it's been nearly six months since he died. I really miss his odd sense of humor. He was a master at the art of understatement! He was also a dedicated husband, dad, and friend. His "trademark", if you can call it that, was his variety of shirts: Hawaiian in the summer, flannel in the winter. After his funeral, I asked Jenny if I could have a couple of his shirts. It sounds like a strange request, but I had a plan!
I wanted to use the fabric to make a pillow for Donna and John. That way, they could have a part of their dad near them all the time. Jenny carried it a step further, she had the kids pick their favorite shirt to send to me.
I wanted to have the shirts finished in time for our "girls' weekend" in a couple of weeks. I started working on them yesterday. As I cut into the fabric, it occurred to me that I was cutting up Thom's shirts on his birthday. I cut carefully so that the shirt pocket could be worked into the pillow. I continued to sew and the pillows took shape. I had enough fabric left to make a small handkerchief to go into the pocket. I hope the kids will enjoy their pillows and know that every time they hug their pillow, they are getting a hug from their dad.

MRI part 2: The results are in part 2

Dr. Li called me yesterday and told me that my MRI showed an "unusually bright area" in my brain. He said that this "UFO" was nothing to worry about, but if my primary care doc had a best friend who was a neurologist, I should follow up with her. He was extremely nice, and tried to make this thing sound as innocent as possible, but it's still worrisome to me. If I don't get the MRI reports in another week, I'll go by medical records and pick them up myself. Then, I'll go to my primary care and we'll talk. Catie says this bright area is glitter. Sounds good to me!
So, my excuse for everything is: "I'm brain damaged". My family can now use the phrase "my brain damaged (wife, mom, daughter, sister.....") to explain any odd or dumb behavior. Works for me!

MRI part 2

OK, so yesterday I had the brain MRI done. As the tech and I walked back to the scanner, I was singing "If I only had a brain" (Wizard of Oz--Scarecrow, remember?). Back on the flat table with my head in the "hold still" pillow. Ear plugs in. On goes the hockey mask and it's bolted into place. deeper into the tube this time. Blaaat...clack....claclunkclaclunkclaclunk.......whirrrrrrr......buzzzbuzzz....chirp.....tictictic.
Ten minutes or so and I slide out of the tube. Time for contrast. My veins are crap. They are small, they roll, they sink, they hide! I would hate to have to stick myself! Poor tech, she stuck me twice and the vein wouldn't cooperate. It hurt like a chisel going into my hand! She asked me if I wanted someone else to stick me as she moved to my right hand. No, there's a good vein (I point it out) here. One stick, a little wiggling, BINGO! The contrast goes in. I'm allergic to Iodine, so she pushed slowly. No problem. Back into the tube. Same noises. Keep the eyes closed. Sing to yourself (does that have any effect on the way my brain will look?). Back out of the tube. DONE!
Now, I get to wait for the report. I hope the release form I signed made it clear that I want a copy of both MRIs sent to my PCP and myself. I like to keep a copy of my records at home, just in case.

Home again!

I am sooooo glad to be back home! I was gone for 11 very long days. I had 2 days off in that time, but it wasn't worth the cost of gas to drive home and come back within 24 hours. That's just enough time home to make me mad.
I've missed my kitties. Seems like they missed me, too. Punkin, the world's fattest Manx, was begging for a good brushing, Bubba wanted in my lap regardless of what (or who) was already there, Mitchie wanted her time, too. The kittens have grown like weeds and dance around my feet. Georgie is her usual grumpy self. Skuttles is still adorable. Haven't checked on the basement cats yet, that's my job today.
The laundry has missed me! There's 2 weeks' worth piled up. The mass is taller than I am! For those who would say that's not very tall, you do five feet of laundry! That's my weekend project.
I missed Dave. We talk on the phone at least once a day, but it's not the same. To see the facial expression of the person you're talking to is special. When I'm away and I get cold, I have to get a blanket or adjust the thermostat. When I'm at home, Dadcat can keep me warm. I know that I get aggravated with him when he doesn't act the way I want him to (he's a guy, what do I expect?!?), but he was selected for me and I really do love him bunches!
After this fabulous weekend of reconnecting, I get to go back to the hotel Tuesday. In a couple of weeks, I'll start my "work 6, off 8" schedule. It sounds horrific, but my sleep schedule is more regular, I'm doing my required every other weekend at work, and I get every other week off. It's all good!

shiftless

I hate going to meetings where night shift bashing is part if the agenda. Common misconceptions are that night shifters don't do anything, they aren't too smart, they aren't highly motivated, they aren't very interested in advancing. As a night shifter, let me dispell those myths!

First of all, there are lazy people on every shift! Night shift hasn't cornered that market! We have to think a little more quickly and depend on our own judgment more often than do our day shift counterparts. We have to do this because our resources are so limited.
> We don't have Clinical Nurse Specialists (or whatever they're called in other facilities), we figure things out based on what we know and what we learn from our coworkers. Then, we use our judgment and apply our knowledge to benefit our patients.
> We don't have access to physicians, we get the on call guy or the resident. Most of our physician contacts would really rather not be bothered with our problems. Your patient's BP is 170/112?? Just watch him and let the attending deal with it in the morning. Watch him do what.....stroke?? OK. Your patient's neb treatments are making her climb the walls? No, you can't have anything to help her relax. Let the attending deal with it in the morning. So the patient climbs the walls all night, her breathing issues get worse, and by the time the attending sees her she's in respiratory distress. Guess who gets blamed for that?!
> We don't have access to supplies. Linens run out at around 3AM. No matter how much is stocked, units always run out in the middle of the night. There is no one in the linen room at night. In the supply department, there are maybe 2 workers. They are out collecting dirty equipment or delivering clean stuff. To obtain a dressing, a kit, or anything else is hard to do!
> There is no one in the dietary department. If a patient arrives from the ED, or worse, from the hinterlands, and they're hungry, we have to scrounge! Most hungry patients are not really interested in crackers and peanut butter when they're ready to gnaw off their hand! Occasionally, there are cans of soup or packs of cereal. Of course, that patient's diet order always has a salt or sugar limitation so none of what was scrounged will be appropriate!

We are very interested in advancing our careers. We want continuing education as much as anyone. The problem is getting it! All meetings, whether they are staff meetings or committee meetings, are held in the daytime. Continuing education classes are offered in the daytime. Mandatory education (CPR, PALS, ACLS, Corporate compliance, etc) is offered in the daytime. Night shifters are put in the position of losing sleep to attend or burning a day off. If we lose sleep, then our judgment is compromised because we are too tired to think. If we burn a day off, then we work our next scheduled shift tired because our day off was spent working! We can't win.

Research indicates that night shifters have more health problems, more depression and live shorter lives than their day shift counterparts. Most of us chose to work at night in spite of the health risks. We enjoy the autonomy that comes with working at night. Patients deserve quality care around the clock. Experienced night shifters make sure they receive it. We also make sure that new staff learn from our experiences so that quality care is ongoing.

MRI: The results are in

I got a voice mail from the DO yesterday. My c-spine MRI was abnormal. He's going to set up an MRI of my brain to see what's going on. Great! Now I'm crazy and brain damaged! I guess I should begin thinking about finding a neurologist. The whole situation is frightening for me.

It's a boy

Sam had her ultrasound today. They are having a boy. Elliott is on cloud nine! For right now, he is Bryce Thomas. Elliott wants the middle name to be Thomas because that name has been used every generation for eons. Not an unreasonable request.
I have decided to give Sam a little more support. Elliott has told me some about her family and her upbringing. Her life has not been an easy (or stable) one. Because of this, it is difficult for her to trust people. This is true of anyone who has lived the way she has. Maybe God sent her to us so that she could learn how normal (dysfunctional) families act. We can have fights, conflicts, disagreements, whatever and then forgive each other. It doesn't have to come to physical violence or abuse and it doesn't have to involve someone going to jail. Sometimes all it takes is for someone to go to timeout. I don't mind going to timeout. It gives me a chance to sort things out before I say something I might regret later.
I do feel a pang of sadness for Catie and Ben. Little Buddha would be here now. They are still working through their IF issues. I pray that God will bless them and I know that it will be in His time. But it would be nice if He could send happy news to them soon. Every month that goes by is more frustrating and disappointing for them. Catie has asked me not to write about her, but I feel the need to. I will try not to disclose too much info. I don't want her to be upset with me.
I feel like I'm straddling a fence. Elliott and Sam are so excited about their baby and I want to be excited with them. At this point, while I would prefer that they were married, I can understand why they're not. I pray that they will be a happy, healthy, loving family regardless of their marital status.
On the other hand, I hate to act excited around Catie. She's a tough girl and has fared much better than others in her situation. The fact remains, though, that having a baby will be more difficult for her. I will be overjoyed when her time comes.

MRI

The MRI is done! I didn't qualify for the contrast part of the test, so it was just a non-contrast study. Before the test, I had to answer all of the questions that I usually ask. When The "Metal plates or screws in you head" question is asked, I always think about Cousin Eddie in Christmas Vacation-"When the microwave's on, I piss my pants and forget who I am for about 30 minutes"! Gotta find a laugh where you can!
The table is narrow, wide enough for Mary-Kate Olsen on a thin day! I had to put my head in a foam brace. A lead plate was put over my chest (to protect my heart from radiation) and a mask was screwed onto that. I felt like a hockey goalie! I was instructed not to move my tongue or lips as that would cause distortion in the images. When you're told not to do something, what do you immediately have the urge to do?!? I was given ear plugs because the tube is noisy. Then I was slid into the tube. I had my eyes closed! I opened my eyes to see where I was. The mask I was wearing was about an inch away from the tip of my nose. The top of the tube was maybe 6 inches away from the mask. Cramped quarters. I closed my eyes again. A series of noises, some like the whistle on a diesel train, some buzzing, some like an electrical popping, started. Buzz, pop, powpowpow, buzzzzzzzzz, click, clikc. It was noisy with the ear plugs in! My left elbow was wedged up against the side of the tube. It started to feel hot, then numb, then hotter! I didn't know that the tube could burn you! After about 20 minutes, the test was over. The mask and breastplate were removed. When I tried to get up and walk, I was dizzy. What a surprise! Didn't know I'd be dizzy afterward. Good info to share next time I send a patient for an MRI of their head or neck.
Now comes the hard part: waiting for the results. I'm hoping that a pinched nerve will explain my unusual (abnormal) reflexes. I'm afraid of the other possibilities.

Some nerve!

On Monday, I went to the DO to have my shoulder examined. He and his student did a really thorough exam and found some weird stuff. First of all, my right second rib was out of place. The student was able to push my rib back into place. It didn't hurt and I was able to breathe better. I wasn't even aware that I was having a problem until it was fixed! I was told that I have a twisted thoracic disc and a positive Hoffman's sign. When the doctor thumps the tip of my middle finger, nothing should happen. My other fingers all jerk. On both hands. Apparently, it's extremely rare for someone to have a positive Hoffman's sign bilaterally. On Monday, I'm going for a cervical MRI. I'm playing down any potential problems right now. I just don't want to worry about anything until I'm given something to worry about. Cervical nerve compression, a demyelinating process, a bad disc are all possibilities, but I'll deal with them later.
The student got to practice manipulating my shoulder to give me a little more mobility. It hurt like a son of a gun! I did have a little better mobility afterward, and the doctor offered to put me on limited duty for work (lifting and pulling on patients is not good for my shoulder!), but I told him that I'll be OK working for now. I don't want to be limited just yet. I'd hate to think that I might lose my job because I'm limited in what I can do. I'll keep taking the anti-inflammatory and limiting what I do on my days off. I'll go back after my MRI and have my shoulder adjusted again.
If it sounds like I'm in denial, I kind of am. I just don't want to have to deal with any other disasters right now. If I act like nothing's wrong, then I don't have to think about it. I agree with Scarlett O'Hara, "After all, tomorrow's another day!".

The good, the bad, and the ugly

It's been a busy week since last Monday.
The Good: Elliott went to court Tuesday. His lawyer tried to get the cop to drop the charges, but the cop refused. Officer Friendly said "Karma's a bitch". Hope his karma doesn't come back and bite him on the butt! Anyway, the charges were lessened to reckless driving. He (we) paid a fine and court costs and he got 5 points on his license. After 2 months, he can go back to court and have the DUI expunged. After a year, the reckless driving can be expunged. He still has to finish the DUI classes (something I think he should do). He can apply to get his license back after he finishes the class. I can cross this disaster off of my list.
The Bad: On the same day that Elliott went to court, Catie went for an ultrasound. She has a large cyst on her right ovary. She is not to even think about getting pregnant this cycle. She's devastated, frustrated, angry, etc.She's on mega doses of hormones to kill the cyst (and anything else her ovaries might be holding. I would do anything to help her get through this. It just hurts my heart to see her unhappy.
The Ugly: OK, here goes my health care rant again! Three weeks ago, I called my primary care physician (PCP) to get prior authorization called to my insurance company to approve the refill of a prescription. Last year, it took 6 months, yes, 6 MONTHS, to get this done! Today, I called the insurance company to find out if they had received the prior auth. Nope! I called my PCP's office. This is the third time I have called about this prescription. I went on a rant! I explained to whoever it was that I talked to (she did not indicate that she was a nurse, receptionist, lab person......whatever) that authorizations are not that hard to do. They aren't rocket science. They can be completed in about a minute. I know because I used to do them! All an authorization takes is a phone call or a fax. I completed my rant by saying that most patients are not non compliant, they just get tired of the hassle and give up! She said that she'd do what she could. I asked if that meant that the auth would take six months like last year. She said she hoped not. I further asked if it would take six weeks like the hassle I had with the Celebrex prescription (I had to find out which tier drugs my insurance would cover, give the info to the PCP office, and wait for the prescription to be called in. This was after four weeks of hassling over the celebrex!). She said she didn't think so. Lo and behold, the authorizations were in place when I went to pick up my prescriptions 4 1/2 hours later! Why are patients expected to put up with this kind of hassle? What happens to patients who do not understand what is expected of them? How do the elderly manage to slog through this quagmire that we call health care? I hate to resort to ugly temper fits to get something done that should have been taken care of weeks ago, but it seems that it's the only way to get things done anymore. Sad.......

Happy Birthday, little Cupcake

Today, my baby girl turns 25. She's a pill baby! BCPs caused me to have severe migraines, so I quit taking them. My doctor told me that I "could handle a lower dose pill". I took it faithfully for three months. Never missed a dose. I got pregnant anyway! I was afraid that Catie would have two heads and webbed feet! When she was born, she was beautiful! She had a square little pink head, pink fuzz for hair, pink arms and legs, she was a little pink girl!
She had colic for three months! We drove every back road in Mecklenburg, Cabarrus, and Union county! Dave would sit on the floor by her crib and pat her on the back so she would sleep. When he dozed off, she would start to fuss and he would start patting again! I finally discovered that a Zip-Loc bag filled with warm water and wrapped in a flat cloth diaper was magic! I would put that on my lap and lay Catie over it. As long at it stayed warm and I rubbed her back, she stayed quiet. Dave and I learned that it is possible to sleep sitting up!
As she grew, Catie became a prissy girl. She didn't like to wear pants. It was too hard to crawl in a dress. She started walking at nine months! She was a good mommy to her dolls, she did everything that I did with baby brother Elliott. If I sat in my rocking chair with my feet on a stool to feed Elliott, she sat in her little rocker with her feet on her little stool to feed her baby. If I changed Elliott's diaper, she changed her baby's diaper. She even explained to Dave: "I always put gasoline on my baby's butt when it's red!".
When she was four, she wrote Elliott's name on the kitchen wall in purple crayon. when she tried to tattle on Elliott ("Mama look, Elliott wrote his name on the wall!"), I explained to her that the writing was too high on the wall for Elliott to reach, Elliott can't write, and she was still holding the crayon! She put the crayon behind her back and said "Well, I sure didn't do it!".
Catie loved school. She decided in kindergarten that she wanted to be a teacher when she grew up. She worked hard for every grade that she got. She played clarinet, flute, and baritone in the band. In high school, she was the only girl in the low brass section. While she was a good student, she was not always a conformist. In fifth grade, she refused to sit with her feet on the floor. She sat on her feet. Her teacher cut her footprints out of construction paper and taped them to the floor to remind her where her feet belonged. She quit the band when her high school band teacher threw a metronome at her. She managed to graduate with honors anyway!
She excelled in college, too. This week, she will graduate from Marshall University. She will be working with WV birth-three evaluating at risk children for any interventions they might need.
She was a beautiful bride. She and Ben were married on a beautiful October afternoon. When they recited the vows that they had written, there wasn't a dry eye in the place. The reception was the best party we've ever had. Ben fits right in with our unusual family! He can hold his own with Catie, too.
I am thankful that Catie was my baby. She has brought more joy than sadness to my life. She has grown from a prissy little girl into a confident young woman. She makes her Mama proud!
Happy birthday, little Cupcake!

"Mom, I'm bored!"

One of the stories on "Today" this morning was about what to do with kids this summer if you can't afford to send them to camp. Chris was the only one of mine to ever go to camp. He went to Boy Scout camp when he was 11. We were creative with our summer/rainy day activities.
The park was always a favorite destination. We would walk the trails, swing, ride the merry-go-round, and slide. Some days, we'd take a picnic lunch. If the kids were really good, we'd get Happy Meals to eat at the park. Basketball and catch were also fun. Catie was every bit as good as the boys, and just as competitive!
Sports were always a part of our summers. We joined the YMCA, and the kids all played ball: softball, T-ball, little league and soccer. Practices and games occupied many evenings and Saturdays. During the week, we would go to the pool several times. Chris was never a strong swimmer, but he enjoyed the water. Elliott was the only one who never had "formal" swimming lessons. His way of learning was to jump in. "I did what you said, Mom, I kept my eyes open and my mouth shut!" was his explanation when I asked where he learned to swim! If only he would follow that advice at other times! Like me, the kids did not like the diving board. Jumping or diving from the side of the pool was OK, but not jumping from anything elevated!
We lived at the end of a dead end street. It was the perfect place for kids to play safely. A lot of the neighborhood kids were the same age as ours. We had a "Little Tykes" stoplight that we put at the corner. It was battery operated and flashed red, green, yellow. All of the kids knew not to go past the stoplight. Bikes, trikes, Big Wheels, skates, doll strollers, anything wheeled was used in that dead end! The moms would stand at the corner and talk while the kids played for hours! Unfortunately, the man who lived directly across the street from us HATED kids! He would stand on his porch, or at the end of his driveway, and simmer! If no parents were around, he would shoot the kids with his garden hose. One afternoon, Catie came in the house crying and sopping wet. Dave told her that our neighbor was not mean, he was keeping the kids from getting too hot and they should thank him every time they got squirted. Of course, he knew that would infuriate our neighbor! Sure enough, after a few sincere "thank you, sir"s, he went inside.
We took lots of day trips. Strawberry picking, Reed's gold mine, Kings Mountain, Chimney Rock, even the animal shelter (just to window shop!) were all summer adventures. One weekend when I was working, Dave loaded the kids into his Honda Civic hatchback and drove to Pittsburgh! They saw lots of trains, rode the trolley from one end of the line to the other, visited museums and just had a good time with Dad. At the time, not many men would dare to take kids aged 3, 6, and 8 on a weekend trip without mom, but Dave has always been a good dad, ready for an adventure! We always went to Ohio to see Dave's parents and West Virginia to see his grandparents. The kids loved to visit. In Ohio, we would go to the Columbus Zoo and spend hours watching the animals. West Virginia was fun, too. Great-Grandma was an excellent cook and never served anything "weird". Great-Grandpa, probably the best fisherman I've ever met, would take the kids fishing. Whatever they caught, they turned loose. There's nothing happier than a kid who is grubby from a day spent enjoying being a kid!
On rainy days, we would bake cookies or cake, make pictures (coloring was a favorite
of Caite's), build models, or "camp in". To camp in, I would take blankets and drape them over the dining room table and chairs. A few pillows and blankets would furnish the inside. This blanket fort could be a castle, a mansion, or a log cabin. Disney videos were a staple on days when outside play wasn't possible. I think Chris could recite Mary Poppins from start to finish by the time he was seven!
We tried to be creative with our summer activities, but that doesn't mean that the kids were always perfectly behaved or that Dave and I never got totally aggravated by them. Any time there is an odd number of kids, there will be that "odd one out". That's when the bickering would start. "He's on my blanket" from the blanket fort. "She won't let me color" from the den. I even heard "He's breathing my air" and "She's looking at me" every now and then! How many days did I put myself in time out?! I really do know why some species eat their young! Even with the bickering, summers were a fun time. We've proved that it is possible to keep the kids busy, active, entertained, and learning without spending a lot of money.

Spring cleaning

I love my family. Really! But today, I had the house to myself. I got some sewing done. I cleaned litter boxes. I did some laundry. I ate when I wanted and what I wanted. I watched whatever I wanted to on TV. No, I didn't take a nap! Tomorrow, I'll do more sewing, more laundry, and maybe clean a bathroom or two. I get way more cleaning done when there's no one under my feet!
A little alone time is not a selfish thing. We all need time to collect our thoughts or reflect on recent events. Alone time can be spent reading, knitting, sewing, or, even cleaning! Without distractions, I can get a lot more done in a shorter period of time. I might even have time for a nap!

Easter

Years ago, when I was in college and a baby Christian, I read an article about the physiology of the crucifixion. The article was written by a physician, so it gave a pretty good description of what happened to Jesus' body during the last 24-36 hours of his life. It made a huge impact on me: how could anyone go through so much for someone like me? Would I be willing to do it for anyone?
Most everyone knows that the Last Supper was composed of bread and wine. Basically, that's a carb fest! Lots of quick energy, but nothing that will support the body for very long. After this meal, Jesus went to the garden to pray. He left his trusted disciples to pray alone. He knew what the next 24 hours would bring. I honestly think he was afraid. He prayed for God to "let this cup pass from me", but submitted Himself to God's will(Matt. 26:39). Scripture says that, as he prayed, his sweat was "as drops of blood"(Luke 22:44). People have questioned whether this is possible. It is. The scalp, including the forehead, is very vascular. In times of severe stress, the capillaries, located just beneath the skin, can break. The blood from the capillaries can seep to the skin surface and mix with sweat. Thus, it is possible to "sweat blood".
The chief priests and elders of the temple arrested Jesus. After he was interrogated by the priests and scribes, he was mocked and beaten with peoples' fists. Scriptures report that, after Jesus was taken to Pilate, he was scourged. Scourging was done with a whip or cat o'nine tails. Several straps of leather were bound onto a short stick that acted as a handle. Each of these straps had small iron balls or sheep bones attached to them. As the prisoner was beaten, the balls would bruise the skin and the bones would bite into the skin ripping away the flesh. Jesus was then taken to Herod. Herod and his soldiers "treated Him with contempt and mocked Him", then returned Him to Pilate where He was condemned to death. The soldiers made a crown out of thorny plants and shoved it on His head. The thorns sunk into His skin and tore it as they were pressed down on His head.
By this time, the carb fest meal had left Jesus' system. He had lost blood due to the beatings. He had walked to the temple, to see Pilate, to Herod, and back to Pilate again. He had not slept in over 24 hours. He was exhausted and dehydrated. Simon of Cyrene carried His cross because Jesus was too weak to carry it himself.
To die by crucifixion is a cruel punishment. Historians believe that the wrists, not the hands are nailed to the cross. The bones and muscles of the hand are not strong enough to support the body. Imagine a railroad spike being hammered through your wrist. With each blow of the hammer, searing pain shoots through your arms. The feet are nailed onto a small platform. As the condemned is hanging on the cross, it becomes more difficult to take a deep breath. In order to take a deep breath, Jesus had to push up with His feet. The wood of the cross was not smoothly finished. Pain shot through His feet and up His legs, His raw back scraped against the rough wood, His arms rotated, pressing His wrists against the spikes. Agony. Death is usually due to suffocation. The body becomes weak and is unable to push up for another breath. Fluid builds up in the lungs because the heart is unable to pump blood through the body causing heart failure. The condemned can hang on a cross for days before death occurs. To hasten death, guards would use a club to break the legs of the condemned. The resulting shock can cause almost immediate death. Jesus died after 3 hours. God is merciful. What about the blood and water that poured from His side(John 19:34)? Think about the cause of death and the fluid that builds up in the lungs. When the sword was inserted into His side, that fluid and blood were given an escape route.
That's the short version of the physiology of the crucifixion. Would I do this for anyone. Honestly, I don't think so. The thought of suffering for hour after hour while a crowd laughs and spits at you would be unbearable. Why did Jesus go through this for me? It's easy to say that it was part of God's plan. When I think about the extent of the suffering that Jesus went through for me, I want to work even harder to obey God and serve Him.

SNOOOOWWWW!

I love snow! I love the way it makes the ground look like it's covered with marshmallow cream. I love the way the trees look like lace against the sky. I love the way it smells, clean and fresh. I love to see little critter footprints making a pattern across the yard. I love the way it makes the world seem a little quieter. I love snow............until April 1.
On April 1, I'm done with snow. I'm ready for spring. I'm ready for warmer temperatures and flowers. I'm ready for baby birds chirping hungrily for food from mombird. I'm ready for shorts and sandals. I'm ready for sunshine.
There's an inch of snow on the ground this morning. Flakes are falling lazily from the sky. The wind is brisk and chilly. Spring, where did you go?

Forgiveness

All is well. All upsets and unkind words have been put behind us. Forgiveness is an interesting thing. How many times do we "forgive" someone, yet still nurse that grudge. You know, "She said 'Blah, blah, blah' in 1995, but I forgave her". Well, if you forgave her, why bring it up....again and again and again! That's not forgiveness! Forgiveness is letting go of past hurts, past anger, past wrongs. It means you don't bring it up again......ever! It also means that you expect a change on the part of the person you have forgiven. If someone was gossiping about you, and word got back to you, and those words hurt you, then talk to the gossiper. Tell them that what they said hurt you. It's easier said than done, but it's the best way to go. Then let them know that they are forgiven, but that you expect that they will not gossip about you any more. It's like when Jesus said "Go, sin no more". He forgave the sin, but He made it clear that he didn't want the sin to be repeated! We have been forgiven by the grace of God and by the sacrifice of Jesus. He died on the cross for our sins, not for anything He did. Before He "Gave up the ghost", Jesus asked God to forgive those who crucified Him (that would be all of us). He died a gruesome, painful death and asked for our forgiveness. When you put things into perspective, how much easier is it for us to forgive someone's unkind words or actions? If we expect God to forgive us, we need to be willing to forgive others.

What I think

Apparently, "brutal honesty" is only appreciated if it leaves everyone in a good light. Catie no longer wants any contact with me. This came about in about an 8 hour span of time. She said it is because I "took Elliott's side" (I have the email). I didn't know that there was a side to take. I do not like the way his girlfriend has behaved in the past, I don't know if that behavior will change in the future. I don't think they are mature enough for a long term relationship. That's all moot at this point. By being supportive of my child during a time of crisis does not mean that I condone his behavior. It simply means what it has always meant, he is my child and I will be there for him. As I would be for any of my children. Mothers do that. Even when a child repeatedly rips out out our heart and stomps all over it.
Dave is angry over what I have posted. Was he supportive during my colonoscopy. I didn't feel it. I feel neglected, passed over. Sorry, but that's where I am. I feel kind of like a chair, always around and comfortable. When he talks to me, I feel like I'm being lectured to. If I say anything about that, I get told "this is the way I talk". It hasn't always been that way. We used to enjoy each others' company. Now I feel like I'm being tolerated.
It's easy enough for others to pass one off as "crazy" because one has been treated for depression. But the fact is, most of us who have seen a therapist are in a better place than our "sane" counterparts. I am OK. I am intelligent. I can stand on my own two feet. If you want nothing more to do with me, so be it. Be careful what you ask for, you might just get it.

Help me, Lord

Elliott's court date came and went. Nothing happened because his case was continued. He was not notified. The officer had to go to "training". His DUI classes were arranged and he was going to stay with Catie and Ben until he got his license reinstated. Until this evening.
He told me this afternoon that his girlfriend, Sam, is pregnant. He just found out Sunday. My first question to him was "Who's the father?". when he said that he was, I asked "are you sure?". He told Catie about it tonight. She immediately flipped. She threw him out of her house and, in short, disowned him. She called our house crying. I tried to explain to her that it is natural for her to feel angry, disappointed, and even jealous. I got no further. She insisted on talking to her dad. Over the past couple of hours, she has talked to me in a way that I would NEVER, ever talk to my mother and she has called me everything but a child of God! She sent me a nasty email which told me to never bother trying to contact her ever again. She doesn't want to see me or hear from me. EVER! Why? Because I am not as outraged with Elliott and Sam as she thinks I ought to be. What am I supposed to do? I will not disown one of my own children, no matter what kind of stupid stuff any of them do. If Elliott and Sam reach the point that they have no place to go and nothing to eat, they are welcome at my house, same as Catie and Ben. Elliott was going to walk from St. Albans to Huntington, about 35 miles, tonight because he had nowhere to go and she wouldn't let him stay there. Chris and Dave left here at 11 pm to go get him. It's a 2 1/2 hour drive. Guess it's better for her if we're all upset tonight. Elliott called me and said that she posted something ugly about him and Sam on her My Space page, but since I have been deleted as one of her friends, I don't have access to it. I put a response on her blog for today about how hypocritical she is and it was promptly deleted. In scripture, we are warned not to be like the Pharisees, who bragged about how good and how godly they are, yet delivered Jesus to be crucified. Instead of supporting her brother in a difficult time, she has thrown him out on the street. Instead of trying to understand that I love each of my children, no matter what, she sees that I am "taking his side" and has disowned me. There are no sides here. Nobody wins. Satan has sown the seeds of bitterness in her heart.They have taken root and are growing a bumper crop of ugly weeds.
It is 1215am. Elliott just called and said that Catie left him a text message. She said that if he didn't tell her where he is, she would call the police and have him picked up. He said that he isn't going to answer her because she told him she never wanted to hear from him again.He is only trying to comply with her wishes. So be it. Jesus told us that we should worry over nothing, God will take care of us. Jesus didn't have any kids! This is going to be a long night.
One final thought: I love all of my kids. I would give up my own life to protect theirs. I will never disown any of them. They are always welcome at my table. They will disappoint me, they will hurt me, they will make me proud, they will make me laugh. Each of them are, and always will be, special to me.

Higher education

Catiebug is preparing to graduate from college. It's been the best 7 years of her life! As things usually go, with classwork, term papers, and final exams comes what I call the "final semester self esteem wipeout". The wipeout comes from some instructors who want select students to know that they will never be as good as said instructor. These poor students have every shread of confidence they may have ripped out, thrown on the ground and stomped!
It happened to me, too. Two weeks before graduation, my critical care instructor did "exit interviews" with each of her students. During my appointment, she accused me of not turning in my term paper. She said that I was totally incompetent and she had no idea how I ever got into nursing school, but she was going to make "damn sure" that I never got out! I was devastated! How could she say those horrible things about me? I was on the Chancellor's list for academic excellence the semester
before!
Ma worked across campus. She was the Dean's secretary in the College of Humanities. She had also typed my term paper. All the way back to her office, I cried and I prayed. I asked God for a miracle, rationalizing that I really should graduate because He had gotten me this close. Dadquat and I (not yet parentquats!) had just bought a house. I had a job lined up. Surely I hadn't misunderstood God's instructions to me! Ma looked up when I walked into her office. I don't know if she understood what I was saying, but she knew what was up. Very calmly, she told me to go home and do my laundry. WHAT?!? Go, do laundry. She would call me. Wait. "Oh, and, by the way, there's a caraffe of bourbon in the cabinet above the fridge, fix yourself a drink. You look like you could use one!"
I went to our apartment, gathered up the laundry, and went to her house. I fixed the drink. Fortunately she had some ginger ale, too. She called after about 45 minutes. She told me that I was about to get a phone call, call her back after I talked to the caller. I had no sooner hung up than the phone rang again. It was my instructor. She had made a terrible error. I did pass her class. I thanked her, hung up, and called Ma.
Here's the rest of that story: Ma called the instructor. She was put on hold for 20 minutes. When the instructor picked up the phone, Ma explained who she was and where she worked. She also said that she had typed my paper and still had the carbons (No PCs back in the day, just typewriters and carbon paper!). Ma knew that the instructor had been failing two students every semester for several years. This gave her that "bell shaped curve" that all teachers strive for. Ma knew the Dean of the nursing college very well......get where I'm going? My paper was found in a file (13?). She called Ma and told her of the "mistake" and that I did pass her class. Ma told her that she would have to tell me herself.
I graduated on time. Because of that instructor's grade, I missed being inducted into Sigma Theta Tau by 0.3 points! I vowed that, if I ever saw her on the floor in a full blown cardiac arrest, I would step on her and keep on going. That was, until I worked with another nurse who nearly failed at the hands of this same woman. She reminded me that to step on her might be a life saving chest compression! She recommended stepping over her! I changed my mind then. I decided that the better way to go would be to resuscitate her and be her primary nurse so that she could see what her "mistake" might have cost her.
State boards were different then. They were given in January or July. All candidates took boards in the state capital. All tests were given on "op-scan" sheets with the answers marked in No.2 pencil. There were 6 tests:Medical, Surgical, OB, Peds, Psych, and an "experimental" exam where the next year's questions were developed. The testing took 3 days. It might be three months before a candidate received the scores. The wait was excruciating! Scores were typed on a narrow sheet of paper with either "PASSED" or "FAILED" at the bottom of the page. There was a possibility of scoring 500 points on any exam. I scored 500 on the Psych exam! My lowest score was a 350 on the Peds test. Not too shabby for someone who "never should have gotten into nursing school"!
For those who are suffering through the "final semester self esteem wipeout" now, keep your head up. Pray without ceasing. God will walk with you through this swamp. He will lift you up and you will stand on the mountain top. It may not be the mountain that you had your eyes on, but you will be on top. I've been a nurse for 29 years. God has never failed me yet!