Hello? Anyone out there..... testing 1, 2, 3, testing. I AM BACK!!!
Did you know, if you google the original blog that inspired you to blog (because you can not recall the blog hosting site's name), then navigate to that blog site, your much abandoned though mildly amusing blog FROM FOUR YEARS AGO will come up! With editing privileges!
WOW Blogger-used-to-be-Blogspot, you rock!
And guess what else?! My blog WAS funny, and my life IS very entertaining (if only to me). So, this in mind, I have decided to start up again with the blog. A LOT has happened over the last four years, and I am realizing that, though I am happily moving towards my ultimate rural nursey homesteader champion dreams, I am also losing site of the everyday wonderfulness that is my life. The good stuff is falling through the cracks people, and I aim to do something about it!
Also, my best girlfriends from college came to visit me last weekend. One of my friends mentioned that I should have a blog. I told her it was too much work (this is by the way, a lie. It's more like spastic ADHD mated with laziness and procrastination that is the problem). She said "Don't blog for you, blog for me! I WANT TO KNOW what it is that you are doing!".
So Monz, this one's for you and STAY TUNED!
Wednesday, October 7, 2015
Friday, September 16, 2011
To be heroic
As previously mentioned, yours truly has limited communication routes with the outside world. One that I rely on heavily is the local public radio station that I listen to in my car on the way to work. Yesterday morning I heard this story. It was just another story until the part at the end, where the Soldier remarks that, after loading the bodies of the fallen soldiers that he successfully extricated from a VERY hairy ambush, he watches the helicopter lift and has an overwhelming feeling of "why not me?".
That part of the story caught my attention and brought up a big lump in my throat. Now, I DO NOT do heroic things like going into a heavily armed ambush despite orders to the contrary, but I think I know that feeling. Something about trying as hard as you absolutely can against all odds, doing everything you possibly can, making a difference, but still feeling as if there was something more you could have or should have done.
I am no hero, but I can relate to how Cpl. Meyer felt that day, watching those birds fly away.
http://www.npr.org/2011/09/15/140479024/for-a-marine-hero-a-medal-of-honor
That part of the story caught my attention and brought up a big lump in my throat. Now, I DO NOT do heroic things like going into a heavily armed ambush despite orders to the contrary, but I think I know that feeling. Something about trying as hard as you absolutely can against all odds, doing everything you possibly can, making a difference, but still feeling as if there was something more you could have or should have done.
I am no hero, but I can relate to how Cpl. Meyer felt that day, watching those birds fly away.
http://www.npr.org/2011/09/15/140479024/for-a-marine-hero-a-medal-of-honor
Monday, September 12, 2011
Speed Blogging
Well, as you all can see (all five of you that read this HAH!) I have taken some liberties with the frequency of my blogging, as foreshadowed in my profile description. Rest assured, I am still kicking!
The Rural blue-light special
Now, I don’t know if this happens anywhere else, but here in this small hospital we have a phenomenon we like to call the “Blue Light Special”, Kmart and all. We seem to get uncanny runs of the same medical complaint. DVT’s that lead to admission, seizures, and last week STEMI’s.
Ohhh STEMI’s. My butthole puckers just thinking of thee. You see, this hospital has no RT, anesthesia or surgery, let alone a dang cath lab. So anyone with a STEMI is a big production of getting flown out critical care transport usually via air. Unless of course, the “birds” can’t fly due to our lovely mountain weather. Then the real fun begins. The RN, armed with a plano
So last week, we had two big ‘uns in two days. The first, we found out later, was 100% occluded. The pt had a previous MI, for which they were given not one, not two, but FIVE stents. Then this pt decided that he could afford cigarettes, but not Plavix. When he got to us he hadn’t been taking Plavix for “A FEW MONTHS”.
Sigh.
The next day we had an ST depression, for which we gave nitro SL and quickly graduated to a nitro gtt. Within 30 minutes of arrival the pt was pain free and wanted to drive themselves the 3 hours to the transferring hospital (the one with the cath lab) via POV. Nope, not happening. The PA explained to her that this was a do-not-pass-go-do-not-collect-$200 affair and that she must go fixed wing to the cath lab. She consented.
In other news….
The county fair happened. I got one grand champion, but the rest were just “blue”. To my great chagrin, I discovered that they do not actually taste the home canned goods that one enters in the fair. Now, the nurse in me looks at some of the other entries in the fair and agrees with my husband’s observation “botulism waiting to happen..” The competitive home canner says “Hell no you wimps! Taste my stuff ‘cause I am 100% positive you would have given ME grand champion”. The capitalist in me says “Screw it, who cares! Just enter one of everything you make. You will probably get like 10$ a jar for it because anything that looks remotely edible will get a blue!” I will keep you posted as to which little voice wins next year (schizophrenia much?)…
Our little hospital has been in MUCH transition. Over the last year we have pulled out of a flaming, spiraling out of control financial situation, lost./fired our current CEO and taken on an interim COO ( no, I don’t know why two O’s is better than and E and an O when it appears to be the same job), and multiple departments have undergone staffing face lifts since. The nursing department’s time has finally come and there was an announcement last week- A new DNS had been chosen, only now they call it a “Chief Nursing Officer, or a CNO (C’mon people, what is this obsession with O’s?). A current staff member was promoted into the position.
My opinion- Thrilled and hopeful. Not often you can say that about your boss ‘eh? J
Tuesday, August 30, 2011
"a-sis-toll"
Having just arrived back at the nurse's station from a room with a cardiac/tele patient with impending need of a bi-ventricular pacer, to see Unit coordinator staring at tele monitor with a puzzled look on her face-
U.C.: "What's a-sis-toll?"
ME (With a snap of my head that should have by all means broke my neck to look at the monitor): "!!!!!!!"
I BRISKLY walk (hospital rule # 25 that they don't teach you until you have already broke it- DO NOT RUN unless you are sure it is an emergency by HOSPITAL standards.) to the large male cardiac patient's room. Round, red-faced, sweaty pt is sitting on the edge of the bed, smiling and chatting with his wife, just as I had left him.
ME: "Dude (substitute pt first name)! Where are all of your telemetry leads?"
PATIENT: " Oh you mean those wire-y thingys? Well, they just kept falling off me, so I put 'em back on for you. Only I couldn't quite remember where they went, so I just put them all right here...."
Patient lifts up his T-shirt to reveal all of his tele leads, stuck in a single horizontal line just under his navel, like a sticky-white plastic-y wire belt.
ME: "Sigh. Nice fashion statement but not so effective for monitoring your heart. Mind if we put them back where they are supposed to be?...."
U.C.: "What's a-sis-toll?"
ME (With a snap of my head that should have by all means broke my neck to look at the monitor): "!!!!!!!"
I BRISKLY walk (hospital rule # 25 that they don't teach you until you have already broke it- DO NOT RUN unless you are sure it is an emergency by HOSPITAL standards.) to the large male cardiac patient's room. Round, red-faced, sweaty pt is sitting on the edge of the bed, smiling and chatting with his wife, just as I had left him.
ME: "Dude (substitute pt first name)! Where are all of your telemetry leads?"
PATIENT: " Oh you mean those wire-y thingys? Well, they just kept falling off me, so I put 'em back on for you. Only I couldn't quite remember where they went, so I just put them all right here...."
Patient lifts up his T-shirt to reveal all of his tele leads, stuck in a single horizontal line just under his navel, like a sticky-white plastic-y wire belt.
ME: "Sigh. Nice fashion statement but not so effective for monitoring your heart. Mind if we put them back where they are supposed to be?...."
Tuesday, August 23, 2011
Art
So this has nothing to do with nursing or homesteading, but a co-worker was showing me some art that inspired her and it got me thinking about art that inspired me. This is what came to mind and I found myself with the time to look it up.
This is the guy who did the screen art for sleeping beauty. Once, while I was waiting for the bus in nursing school, I went into a bookstore and started flippign through one of those big glossy art mags and stopped on these beautiful, colorful pages of this guy's work:
http://www.eyvindearle.com/Default.aspx
This is the guy who did the screen art for sleeping beauty. Once, while I was waiting for the bus in nursing school, I went into a bookstore and started flippign through one of those big glossy art mags and stopped on these beautiful, colorful pages of this guy's work:
http://www.eyvindearle.com/Default.aspx
Friday, August 19, 2011
Welcome to the Weekend, enter chickens
I figure that I probably won't have enough material to just blog about the hospital. Actually, I figure that you all will get semi-tired of reading about my hospital adventures. So I am going to try out a "weekend feature" that will tackle the issues of being a wannabe weekend homesteader AND... I have an excellent first topic! CHICKENS!
So I have wanted to get chickens for YEARS... well at least three or four years. A couple of weekends ago a neighbor volunteered to give me some hens who had just started laying FOR FREE. Now, if there is one thing you will learn about me should you choose to follow this blog- I am an s-u--c-k-e-r for a "deal" in any form. "Hey look! They are giving away a 200 pound metal tank that is all rusty with a hole in the bottom and smells like last year's turkey rotting in the garbage can! FOR FREE! Let's take it home! I am sure we could sell it for a small fortune to the metal recycling place! I bet the turkey smell will disappear when they melt it down."
Anyway, I conned my husband into the chickens with one caveat from him- "I am so NOT helping you with this." OK I can do this, I am an independent woman who happens to be married. I can use a chainsaw, cut some poles, dig some holes and build a fence. But I am not a builder. I'll just buy one of those ready-made coops down at the feed store in exchange for the small fortune I'll be making when I get the metal tank down to the metal recyclers. Easy money people, easy money.
Problem number one- the ready made coop though cute, is not insulated. Chickens don't like -15 degrees Fahrenheit weather. It could prove challenging to insulate the coop after it is put together (kind of hard to work through that 12 x 14 chicken door). But when I arrive at the feed store to pick-up the coop, it is not assembled yet. But wait, this is perfect! I'll just insulate the coop while I am assembling it! The guy at the feed store assures me that the instructions are enclosed and all I need is a screw driver. I'll use foam board insulation and front it with metal flashing so the chickens don't peck it to death. Yesssss, I am so smart and independent! The chickens are dancing in my head.
Problem number two- arrive at home chickens and two large boxes that are my coop, in tow. I get to work on the coop while the chickens wander around inside my garden fence trashing strawberry plants and teasing the dog who is locked out of the garden so as not to chase them. I open the box and unpack it- No directions or hardware anywhere in sight! I call the feed store- "Uh wow, this has never happened before. Those parts won't be in until monday". Chickens go in there coop every night like clockwork. No coop on friday does not mean they can wait until monday.
Enter my husband. Driving home from a hard day at work he sees me in the corner of the garden surrounded by assorted puzzle pieces that are my coop, with my chickens running around decimating raspberries and taunting the dog. I swear people, any project relating to building or wood emits a siren-like tone audible only to him that is irresistible- he came over.
"What are you doing?".
"Building a coop."
"How does it go together?"
long pause.
"I don't know. But you don't have to help me. I can do this by myself" thinking "Yah, I soooo have this handled!"
Raised eyebrow "uh huh, sure looks like it. There aren't any instructions?"
At this point, I can no longer resist his prodding. I spill about all of the days hiccups. This doesn't seem to matter, as he has now fixated on the wood and is moving pieces around experimentally, as happy as a little kid with a puzzle. I, not being very good at wood or puzzles, choose not to complain anymore and we set in trying to assemble the coop. It still doesn't assemble an hour and a half later.
I throw three inches of shavings in the bottom of the large dog crate that I picked the birds up in, chase them around the garden for 20 minutes until I have them all safely in the crate, put the crate into the green house for the night, and then go inside to make dinner.
Husband: "How much did you pay for that coop?"
Finesse: "Too much"
Husband: "How much?"
Finesse: "Uhhhh, $$$.... but I am still going to trade in the big metal tank and...."
Husband: "How about I just build you one."
Finesse: "OK"
So that's it! Yup! Marriage is really that easy! I will take the cute hunk of crap back to the feed store tomorrow, and Husband will probably have the entire brand new coop, way more nice and skookum built and insulated done by the evening. In exchange, I will help him finish the last 1/4 mile or so of barb wire fence around our property.
I think this is a pretty good trade :)
So I have wanted to get chickens for YEARS... well at least three or four years. A couple of weekends ago a neighbor volunteered to give me some hens who had just started laying FOR FREE. Now, if there is one thing you will learn about me should you choose to follow this blog- I am an s-u--c-k-e-r for a "deal" in any form. "Hey look! They are giving away a 200 pound metal tank that is all rusty with a hole in the bottom and smells like last year's turkey rotting in the garbage can! FOR FREE! Let's take it home! I am sure we could sell it for a small fortune to the metal recycling place! I bet the turkey smell will disappear when they melt it down."
Anyway, I conned my husband into the chickens with one caveat from him- "I am so NOT helping you with this." OK I can do this, I am an independent woman who happens to be married. I can use a chainsaw, cut some poles, dig some holes and build a fence. But I am not a builder. I'll just buy one of those ready-made coops down at the feed store in exchange for the small fortune I'll be making when I get the metal tank down to the metal recyclers. Easy money people, easy money.
Problem number one- the ready made coop though cute, is not insulated. Chickens don't like -15 degrees Fahrenheit weather. It could prove challenging to insulate the coop after it is put together (kind of hard to work through that 12 x 14 chicken door). But when I arrive at the feed store to pick-up the coop, it is not assembled yet. But wait, this is perfect! I'll just insulate the coop while I am assembling it! The guy at the feed store assures me that the instructions are enclosed and all I need is a screw driver. I'll use foam board insulation and front it with metal flashing so the chickens don't peck it to death. Yesssss, I am so smart and independent! The chickens are dancing in my head.
Problem number two- arrive at home chickens and two large boxes that are my coop, in tow. I get to work on the coop while the chickens wander around inside my garden fence trashing strawberry plants and teasing the dog who is locked out of the garden so as not to chase them. I open the box and unpack it- No directions or hardware anywhere in sight! I call the feed store- "Uh wow, this has never happened before. Those parts won't be in until monday". Chickens go in there coop every night like clockwork. No coop on friday does not mean they can wait until monday.
Enter my husband. Driving home from a hard day at work he sees me in the corner of the garden surrounded by assorted puzzle pieces that are my coop, with my chickens running around decimating raspberries and taunting the dog. I swear people, any project relating to building or wood emits a siren-like tone audible only to him that is irresistible- he came over.
"What are you doing?".
"Building a coop."
"How does it go together?"
long pause.
"I don't know. But you don't have to help me. I can do this by myself" thinking "Yah, I soooo have this handled!"
Raised eyebrow "uh huh, sure looks like it. There aren't any instructions?"
At this point, I can no longer resist his prodding. I spill about all of the days hiccups. This doesn't seem to matter, as he has now fixated on the wood and is moving pieces around experimentally, as happy as a little kid with a puzzle. I, not being very good at wood or puzzles, choose not to complain anymore and we set in trying to assemble the coop. It still doesn't assemble an hour and a half later.
I throw three inches of shavings in the bottom of the large dog crate that I picked the birds up in, chase them around the garden for 20 minutes until I have them all safely in the crate, put the crate into the green house for the night, and then go inside to make dinner.
Husband: "How much did you pay for that coop?"
Finesse: "Too much"
Husband: "How much?"
Finesse: "Uhhhh, $$$.... but I am still going to trade in the big metal tank and...."
Husband: "How about I just build you one."
Finesse: "OK"
So that's it! Yup! Marriage is really that easy! I will take the cute hunk of crap back to the feed store tomorrow, and Husband will probably have the entire brand new coop, way more nice and skookum built and insulated done by the evening. In exchange, I will help him finish the last 1/4 mile or so of barb wire fence around our property.
I think this is a pretty good trade :)
Thursday, August 18, 2011
Hello Blogosphere
How to start. I want the ground to shake, I want to sound smart and snarky, I want people to enjoy reading this as much as I enjoy reading their blogs. Hmmmmm, I think there is something wrong here, a little too much need for other's approval. SO we'll just drop those ideas for blog goal, and instead we will use the blog as a place to get out thoughts and ideas that would otherwise boil uncontrollably in my brain or bore my husband to tears. Yeah, that's a better idea.
Whew! This is so much easier now that we have set a tone. Is it overly nurse-like that I have to set a goal for my blog, and then educate my readers about it? Why must nursing bleed into all corners of my life, is nothing sacred? Ack!
So, let's change the topic to rural nursing.
Rural difference # 1 (in no particular order): Ancillary Staffing.
Example- I understand that in big hospitals, depending on acuity, nurses are expected to take about 5-6 patients per shift on a general medical floor. ER nurses seem to be expected to take about 3-6 beds/ shift that rotate through pretty rapidly (though not always). Evidently there are NAC's or ER techs that are assigned to these places that also help take care of these patients. Rural hospitals seem to have less ancillary staff.
"Hi, my name is Finesse. I work at backroads hospital. We have 22 beds, and in any given shift I am expected to care for a 10 bed nursing home, three bed ER, 3 extended rehab patients, 4 general medical patients, and perform out patient treatments and do IV starts for Radiology. To help out with this, there is one other RN, and two NAC's. One problem with the NAC's- they stay busy enough with the 10 nursing home patients, they rarely make it far enough down the hall out of the NH to even catch an acute care call bell let alone collect a set of VS in the ER. Oh yeah, we also have one Unit Coordinator to do admits, but she also stays busy auditing charts for completeness while there are managers outside chain smoking or in meetings."
Hmmmm, perhaps we shouldnt' start the blog with this story. May be a little too bitter. Is it to late to mention that Finesse *loves* rural nursing? That she semi-sadistically enjoys getting her ass handed to her and going home and crashing into the bed? That it gives her great satisfaction to serve as a nurse to her family, community members, and fellow man (even said managers who seem to have better things to do than help take care of the catharsis that is the nursing floor)? Its probably never too late to mention those things. People like to hear those things- DAMN!!!! We are back to the cursed approval of others issue! Well, at least it all comes full-circle in the end!
Whew! This is so much easier now that we have set a tone. Is it overly nurse-like that I have to set a goal for my blog, and then educate my readers about it? Why must nursing bleed into all corners of my life, is nothing sacred? Ack!
So, let's change the topic to rural nursing.
Rural difference # 1 (in no particular order): Ancillary Staffing.
Example- I understand that in big hospitals, depending on acuity, nurses are expected to take about 5-6 patients per shift on a general medical floor. ER nurses seem to be expected to take about 3-6 beds/ shift that rotate through pretty rapidly (though not always). Evidently there are NAC's or ER techs that are assigned to these places that also help take care of these patients. Rural hospitals seem to have less ancillary staff.
"Hi, my name is Finesse. I work at backroads hospital. We have 22 beds, and in any given shift I am expected to care for a 10 bed nursing home, three bed ER, 3 extended rehab patients, 4 general medical patients, and perform out patient treatments and do IV starts for Radiology. To help out with this, there is one other RN, and two NAC's. One problem with the NAC's- they stay busy enough with the 10 nursing home patients, they rarely make it far enough down the hall out of the NH to even catch an acute care call bell let alone collect a set of VS in the ER. Oh yeah, we also have one Unit Coordinator to do admits, but she also stays busy auditing charts for completeness while there are managers outside chain smoking or in meetings."
Hmmmm, perhaps we shouldnt' start the blog with this story. May be a little too bitter. Is it to late to mention that Finesse *loves* rural nursing? That she semi-sadistically enjoys getting her ass handed to her and going home and crashing into the bed? That it gives her great satisfaction to serve as a nurse to her family, community members, and fellow man (even said managers who seem to have better things to do than help take care of the catharsis that is the nursing floor)? Its probably never too late to mention those things. People like to hear those things- DAMN!!!! We are back to the cursed approval of others issue! Well, at least it all comes full-circle in the end!
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