stitches

yesterday i worked 4 hrs (overtime!!!) in the morning but today was technically day 1 of my work week.
ugh.
i hate day 1.
it always has a Monday feel to it, even if it happens to be thursday.
while i only had 4 patients, i dont know where my head was. I blame the Monday Effect.

and sometime during the day i accepted a phonecall specifically for me and i have a vague recollection of agreeing to play on the hospital/health care slo-pitch team ("stitches") and i think i may have also joined the local rec soccer team that actually plays all of its games in Idaho. good thing i can cross state lines.
but SLO-PITCH?????!?!?!

things i cannot do which may prove problematic for being on a slo-pitch team:
catch
throw
hit
run without looking totally awkward
feel comfortable making small talk and fitting in with beer-guzzlers
remember the rules to the game

things i can do:
show up
be enthusiastic

hip to be square

Yesterday i had my first ever quilting lesson.

She was very right when she said she thought she could turn me into a
serious quilter.... holy! i'm addicted already! (Z, i hope you're singing that
song!). I can actually sew! I was horrid at it in home ec all those years ago
but a straight line is no long a match for me. And chain sewing makes
pretty Tibetan-esque flags out of the pieces! It amuses me heartily.


My first project is a 9-square. I use the shop's scrap fabric and the finished product goes to some noble cause that i cant recall. New babies of young mothers? Who knows.


Last night at band i was invited to a party! My first-ever Small Town Party. I think it will be a bunch of older (than me) women sitting around eating at some sort of spice/seasoning party. At least it isnt plastic storage containers... What am i to wear?!?!

New Medical Condition

Concerned citizens,

You may well be aware of Mentionitis*. We would like to take this opportunity to educate you on a new condition in order to allow you to prepare yourselves should it reach pandemic proportions.

Attention Infatuation
Condition characterized by liking someone, to any degree of like, based on the attention they afford you. In mild forms of this condition, nonsexual pleasure is derived from someone interacting nicely, positively, and respectfully towards the afflicted person; especially, remembering the person's name and addressing them as such.

(is it wrong to like being paid attention to? is it unhealthy to like the feeling of being memorable?)

*Mentionitis: "A verbal disease whereby the sufferer will be unable to prevent themselves from constantly dropping a particular person's name into conversation. While sufferers themselves are unaware of the significance of this, the frequent, seemingly innocent, references alert friends and indeed partners to an impending romance. "

a few things i like about living alone

1) drinking chocolate milk whenever i want - straight out of the carton

2) buying a whole watermelon just for myself because it was cute and i felt like carrying it up Cardiac Hill

3) sleeping in the sunny spots on the floor without fear of being in anyone's way

4) watching really bad television and cheesy movies without having to justify my actions

5) no one can tease me when i burn things trying to cook because no one will ever know

6) random piles of clothes (CARDIGANS!) around the house as per my whims

7) rocking out to questionable music without embarassment

nothing like feeling like a dork to end a nightshift

to set the scene: it is 6am. I have spent the past 11hrs trying not to injure myself in an attempt to end the pain that is known as staying awake all night at work. everyone else got a 2-3 HOUR nap. i got 2 mins on the nursing desk. fair?
one of my patients decided to speed up the dying process. i did all i was able to do and called RN Ess to give her expert opinion. she said she'd call the family. and the doctor. the doctor was actually in the building so she sent him down.

it is 6am. i havent slept. my patient is dying and i cant hear the doctor's orders to me.
RN Ess double checks them for me.
the doctor, Dr. Chicken Legs, comes down to my med cart. i think he's going to laugh at me. RN Ess tells him i couldnt hear him because he speaks so softly. (atropine, atrovent, what's the difference?!?!) i tell him i couldnt hear him through his moustache.

it is 6am. i havent slept. i'm trying to give some medications STAT but i cant decipher the orders through Dr. Chicken Legs' sound-absorbing porn moustache. i'm rapidly scribbling down a note so i dont forget later. Dr.Chicken Legs walks up to me, pulls my pen out of my hand, puts it right back in, and continues walking. i stare at it, confused. i couldnt see any difference to how it is from how it had been.

slowly, i turn around and ask him spacedly....
me: why did you move my pen?
dr. chicken legs: because you looked like a baboon.

he hurries back to emerg and i'm left standing in disbelief. RN Ess, did he just call me a baboon?
she has vowed to never let this one die down.

RN Ess makes me march out to emerg to clarify the order with Dr. Chicken Legs because he ordered an atypical dose (not that i would know, having never given this drug before. its pretty much a code drug. i thought it was a DR-administered drug.).

me: i just need to know if you want zero-point-five or zero-point-six and how you want it given
dr. chicken legs: blah blah blah baboons blah lack of opposable thumbs blah blah
me: ZERO-POINT-FIVE OR ZERO-POINT-SIX???? IM, SC, or IV??
dr. chicken legs: so do you know how to give 0.5?
me: i can do it. i just want to know HOW
dr. chicken legs: so first you draw up 6ml...
me: i KNOW how to give 0.5. DO YOU WANT IT IV?
dr. chicken legs: blah blah baboons blah blah 6ml
me: look. i have a patient who REALLY needs this med. zero. point. five. IV. slow push. OOOOOKKKKKKKK??

its 645am. i havent finished charting or given my report. Dr. Chicken Legs is telling me about baboons in general and baboons in his home country. He would never hire anyone who writes like a baboon. I guess its a good thing he doesnt pay my salary...

formal notice

Dear David,

It is with a heavy heart that i write to inform you of your recent unfortunate loss.
We exhausted all of our abilities but were unable to prevent the loss of your bet. A bet involving a fish.

While we are deeply sorry for your loss, we must inform you nevertheless that your account is still due in full according to the conditions agreed upon by yourself.

Sincerely,
Jane

hein?

if there is no such thing as spontaneous generation,
from where does something like love come?

strange dreams

i've been having (and remembering) strange dreams as of late.

this is part of my dream last night:

i had gone back to UBC. Anastasia and i were taking the bus together, which was nice since they moved the bus loop and i wasnt sure which was my stop. I also wasnt sure where my stop was because i hadnt written down where my classes were. Typical anxiety dream. So i found my first class online and showed up. I was a little weighted down because for some reason i felt compelled to cart my guitar around with me. And a knapsack full of school supplies only i didnt remember all my textbooks. There were several for my course in the History of Women in American Business. No idea why i signed up for that. I had of course neglected to pack the text for my first class. I had been to class the first week but had missed week 2 because i had to go out of town ("fishin'") and was horrified to learn that i had missed the drop deadline. I was desperate to drop this evil class on torture that was pretending to be a chem class. Anyways, my first class of the day was Spanish Math. Yes, Spanish MATH. Clearly everyone needs to take a math class in spanish. I couldnt remember having signed up for it but when i remembered the large emphasis there had been the first week on learning our numbers in Spanish, i realized it made sense. Only, while i was trying to hide behind my classmates because i was totally lost, having not done last week's homework, the girl 2 seats behind me (who was an old friend from high school) answered the questions in Afrikaans. I was so confused.
And then it was time for a sing-a-long. We all sang Kingston Town in English and then in Spanish even though the song is about Jamaica. It had an old-school video with it from the seventies which reminded me of the one to the song about teaching the world to sing (i think it later became a coke commercial)

And that was my dream. Its about as strange as the one i had the night before during which i had a desperate need to find a mcdonald's in my town. I was so desperate i was becoming ill. It was awful. I think i should stop watching tv so i dont see commercials. Wouldnt want to re-trigger that dream. I'd hate for it to become a recurring dream like the one i used to have about a snowman and some aliens following me home.

a few things

01 - Easter Parade is an enjoyable film

02 - today i found myself in a shack in the back lot of a random store on the side of the highway. The shack was filled with knives.

03 - today i experienced my first busker here in town. he was next to what i believe is the Smallest Park in Canada. I couldnt hear him over the busy main street traffic (shocking, i know!) but he was still a nice sight. perhaps this is an early sign of summer.

04 - things are much nicer now with the greening of the grass. especially when its freshly cut and thus nicely scents the air.

the jacqui fish

gone fishin'

two things

1) living in a town with its own time zone that ignores daylight savings = cool

2) teenagers with a tendency to stop breathing (especially drunk bloody ones that spit and pee all over the place) = not cool

full house

total new admissions: 10
total inpatients: 23

Favourite New Admission
Name: Sponge, Bobby
Age: 3 years
Diagnosis: Square Pants