Not Sure

I just realized that just because it has been posted all over my dog blogs (don't throw things at me for having dog blogs!) I really didn't put it here to explain my abscense.

First most of you do know about the nasty leg infection that had me down and out for a couple weeks. Then my dog got sick, really sick. I have a pug who has hemophilia, her clotting factors dropped dangerously and I almost lost her. The treatment price ($500) was something I didn't have since all my savings were wiped out last summer paying for the part of Forever Child's surgery that our insurance didn't cover and she was going to need a total of 5 treatments altogether. Even though the vet discounted the four treatments after the first it was still out of my range. Because a couple tries on the first treatment didn't work right and she had to have an extra two it is going to cost me even more.  So my choice was to bring her home and say goodbye. I spent the first two days crying on the sofa. Then I mentioned it to a pug group I belong to on FB. They ask me to put up something called a ChipIn, I had never heard of it and certainly didn't know who to use it but I researched it, figured it out and put it up on my pug's blog. In less than 24 hours these wonderful people had enough money in there to pay for that initial treatment and the extra amount it cost when she had to have more than expected. I brought my dog back home yesterday but have rarely been on the computer since the leg and my dogs illness until yesterday or to send quick thank you's. I just didn't want you all to think I had suddenly stopped loving and reading your blogs.

Tazed and Dazed

I really don't even know where to begin the last few days have been so crazy, or I was crazy and the day was normal. Jury is still out on that one.

First I let my son talk me into buying him a new pair of skateboarding shoes. After asking what the hell the difference was s, other than the extra $30 they cost, he was quick to inform me that everyone knows the difference. So I beg you please don't be stupid like me, do your research and know the different brands of skateboarding shoes, keep your list updated. Someday someone may ask you that all important question and you don't want to stand there and be stupid like I was. Oh and just to save you further embarrassment they are DC's not CD's like I ask the store clerk for.

I have two dogs, hell-hounds actually. The chihuahua doesn't give a shit who or what comes rolling up in this house as long as they don't leave. You go to leave and he is going to get you. Until recently the only way around this was to simply back out the door but it gets a little embarrassing to have to tell all your guests to go out the door backwards. Then there is the Pug, Satan's right hand disciple. Very loving and gentle and really only has one bad habit as opposed to the chihuahua who could probably pull a diagnosis of schizophrenia and OCD. But the too hates for anyone to go out a door if she is going to be left behind. She won't bite but will grab your pant legs or shoes and try to pull you back in. I only stop her when the Mormon's come knocking door to door so I can be one of the  few that will be saved someday. I rather enjoy watching her tugging at them. But this week a stroke of genius hit me. I don't have those often so really someone should have run out and bought me a cake or something. Instead I settled for Cheez-It's that were already in the pantry. Anyway I keep a tazer in my purse, just a small one. I picked it up, turned it on and armed it to check the battery strength. I need it to be strong, just in case the Mormon's come back before my tolerance level builds back up. These dogs scattered like they were shot at. Now when I go out I simply pick it up turn it on and let it buzz, they won't come near the door. Before you email people get the urge to turn me in to animal control let me assure you neither dog has ever been tazered, they just don't like to hear it. So yesterday I am going out on my balcony to have a cigarette and here comes both hell-hounds charging at me. I picked up the tazer, made it buzz and as usual they scattered. I go to put it back in my purse and end up tazing myself. So learn this little lesson too, ALWAYS make sure you turn the silly thing off after terrorizing your dogs. Those things pack a punch!

Next I leave to run to town to pick up a few things at the grocery store to cook a delicious dinner. OK, I lied I went to Golden Corral. I came home and realized I had missed two doses of my medication because thinking to take them with me would have just been too simple and I don't do simple well. My doctor has recently my dose of Klonipin. He may think it will get me out of my pajama's. I hurriedly took a dose and instead of  putting them in the lock box I just sat  them in I just left them on the kitchen island. My sons and I come back from eating and a little later it was time for another dose. This is a bottle of 90 pills that was just filled Monday. My bottle was almost empty. So I counted up what I had taken and what was left and there are 56 pills missing from the bottle. So then I had to go through the whole reporting a theft, police reports and then delivering those reports to the dr, the pharmacy and my insurance company to get them replaced. But what bothered me was who did it and how. My door was not messed with in any way so the police say whoever did it had to have had a key. No one has a key to this house but me, my son and the people that work here. So then I turn all suspicious of anyone that even looked in my direction. As it turns out it was a random theft, they have a suspect, Jamario, and he admitted to taking them to sell, he said he thought I just wouldn't notice them if he only took some of them instead of the whole bottle. Bitch seriously? I wouldn't notice 56 missing Klonopin?. To me that would be equal to someone coming in your house and stealing your first born child and you not noticing it for a couple weeks. He didn't have a key, he was just a good lock picker. But now I have this whole other set of worries to deal with, I fear he isn't going to be able to make a living at his chosen career of selling drugs. Think about this a minute. On my kitchen island was also a bottle of Soma and a bottle of Ambien both with 90 pills, there was also a bottle of 60 Norco's and my dog's Phenobarbitol with 90 in the bottle. All newly filled  This idiot left them and only took the Klonopin. Now here the Soma and the Norco would have more street value and he doesn't take them? Your a thief man, be a good one and don't give a shit if I "notice" you took them or not, just snatch the damn bottles and run, sort out what you do and do not have that is of value later, in a safe place. Then he is picked up for suspicion in a matter of 3-4 hours and within 10 minutes confesses to it all without even finding out if they have any evidence on him which they didn't. But it get's better, the idiot then actually shows them how he picked the dead bolt lock to get in here. Tells them he saw me pick them up at the pharmacy and followed me home, then watched a few days until he saw me leave. However enlightening he thought he was being all that managed to do was get him a stalking charge added to his felony drug charges. Then he tells the police that he was going to siphon some gas from a car (again be a real thief man and just do a drive off at the pump somewhere (obviously NOT getting caught wasn't high on your list of priorities that afternoon anyway). He realized that he didn't have gloves and had been holding the hose with his bare hands and leaving finger prints so he just dropped the whole thing and ran. By now I'm kind of feeling sorry for the idiot, you know you left fingerprints, have no clue you also left a real good DNA sample on the end of that hose you were sucking gas out of and yet you leave it at the scene and run so they won't know it was you? Thank God I had my tazer and gun with me, he might have accidently killed himself while stealing from me, he just isn't bright. But now I worry about Jenieshia, Qenieshia, Jamario Jr, the twins Tenieshia and Lenieshia, Chin Moo Shoo (I suspect  he was the result of an affair during one of Jamario Sr. prior incarcerations) and the baby Venieshia. Who the hell is going to buy pampers and grape Kool-aide for the baby's bottle now that Jamario Sr is going back to jail? I worried for a bit about the baby she is pregnant with and him not being their to help her pick out a name and all but then decided I could cross that one off because they don't seem to have much of an imagination and surely she can pick out a new alphabet letter to stick on the "enieshia" by herself. So the police call us down to the station to do a line-up to see if we can pick the guy up. I don't know what part of "I wasn't home I was at Golden Correl picking off the chicken skin to stuff my face with when it happened and didn't see anything" that they didn't get. But we go, because right now I am sucking up to the police to gain access to the old 3 story building that they are in right now, built in 1859 and supposedly haunted when they move to their new building so we can do a ghost hunt in there. Of course we could identify no one and went on our merry way. Somehow the conversation with the cop got turned around to pot smoking. Now I have always taught my children not to do drugs, there is a fear they may want me to share with them or something. What does this cop do? He looks at my son and says "Look if you ever feel you need to smoke pot then do it in your own house or on your own balcony because we don't care if it's in your own house. If anyone calls us and says we smell pot coming from the upstairs apartment or the house next door we tell them we have worse things to worry about but if they see that person get in the car to drive then call us.:" In less than 10 minutes that cop was able to undo 17 years of training. I wanted to kill him.

On the way home we stop at the Kangaroo gas station so I could get gas and buy cigarettes. The two clerks refuse to sell me the cigarettes because I have my 17yr old sons in the car with me. I reminded them that I don't think they have a good grasp of the law, it doesn't work that way. We go round and round. Then she makes a mistake by placing her hand on my arm, I don't like being touched by strangers, how do I know they didn't just finish scratching their ass or picking their nose? I ask her politely to remove her hand and explained I don't like being touched. She removed it and then 10 seconds later put it right back again. I wasn't so nice that time, I admit to calling her a moron and roughly pushing her hand away. She says she is going to call the police. I saved her the time and called them myself, by now I have their cell phone numbers and they are on speed dial. So the cops come, tell her she can't touch me if I ask her not to and make her sell me the cigarettes. I'm sure it wasn't nice that I gloated on the way out the door while saying "What now bitch?!" But it felt good anyway.

I come home and am so relieved that the hectic day is over, my dog has survived her first life saving treatment and is doing good and I don't have to deal with anyone else the rest of the night. So I wanted to sit at the computer and redesign Lolas's web site to thank all those that donated money, thoughts, prayers, toys, treats and clothes during her illness. My Pug Sluts are the best people in the world, they rallied when they didn't have too and helped save my dog. So I take my meds thinking it won't take long to design and put up the new blog designs and write a quick blog to them. I was wrong, ran into a design problem that took me a minute to figure out so it took a little longer to do. I promptly fell asleep, fell completely out of my computer chair and slept right there in the floor until The Devil's Advocate wanders through here and finds me. He panics, thinking I have keeled over dead, then it all became hilarious and we laughed for hours over it. He is still teasing me today.

Finally I go to bed only to woke up at 1 am by the phone ringing. I answer, it's my sister, whispering that someone is scratching on her door. I tell her to call the police. She doesn't want to. I tell her to look out and see if she can see anyone. She did and saw the neighbors cat scratching at the door to be let in. We hang up and I go back to bed. This happens three more times in the next two hours, all three times it was the same cat and I am now thinking in my head of ways to kill my sister without getting caught.

Then 3 am rolls around and my phone rings again. This time it is my daughter, Fantasy Barbie. I can't understand a thing she is screaming except "Help, I need help!!!", in the background  I hear thumping and bumping and a cat screaming. I am getting a little hysterical and ask if she needed me to call 911. Even though it does always amuse me if someone calls someone else to call 911 for them instead of just using that phone call to do it themselves and have support on the phone with them. She says now but can I please come to her house right away because her husband was at work and he refused to come. Ok, that was my clue that it really wasn't anything serious or he would have flown home. Her problem? The cat had killed a mouse, jumped up in her lap and presented her with his prized gift. She freaks, runs and locks her self in the bedroom (did she really think that cat was going to get in that closed door if she didn't lock it?), she then screams for several minutes before calling her husband and then me. I told her I was not driving an hour at 3 am only to dispose of a dead baby mouse that she needed to suck it up and get rid of it herself. It took me 45 minutes to "walk" her through disposing of that dead mouse. The whole time she is screaming in my ear and jumping from furniture to furniture so that she didn't have to walk on the same floor the dead mouse was on. My sister lives closer to her, about 5 minutes away but since she was traumatized by the neighbor cat scratching on the door I didn't want to call her, she would never have walked out her door to get to her car anyway with that viscous tabby cat on the loose outside.

I finally get them all calmed down, turn my phone off in case either one of them are attacked by any more viscious cats or mice and have another "crisis". Came into the kitchen and put back on the 10 pounds I lost last week by having a nice big bowl of Red Velvet Cake ice cream. Finally went back to bed and slept like a baby.

Today I send Demon Seed for a haircut because he has a job interview. I told him not to rock the Adam Lambert hairdo this time and no color streaks in it because by no imagination can he sing like Adam so I was pretty sure he wasn't coming home with a singing gig. Sorry Adam, you know I love you but I told Demon Seed the same think I told you, that that style is not going to help you climb the corporate ladder in any company. I knew I should have went with him because his idea of NOT rocking the Adam do was this:

Not exactly what I had in mind guys! He says he had to because he is on the prowl for a new girlfriend, why I don't know, he won't keep any of them for more than a few weeks without breaking up with them because they get "clingy".

Then he redeemed himself by striking this pose.  I had nothing to do with this one Adam, it was all freestyle. I told you I was pretty sure he is the result of a sexual encounter with a demon Incubus.

So now I am off to bed, hoping to avoid any more Incubus's that produce more Adam children.

EMails and Phone Calls

Just watching the news and there has to be something wrong with people who will stand in line for hours to meet Khloe and Kim Kardashian in a crowded mall. Do they really think these two air heads are going to give the secrets to world peace? Can they not realize that if these two buffoons are appearing in a mall then they are not really your top notch celebrities? OK, got that off my chest.


I thought we do some more of my emails today, they are always good for a good laugh.

Emails:

 Patti: Are you always this sarcastic?

Me: Well, not always, I usually try to tone it down when I am sitting on the toilet as I find there isn't much in the bathroom that irritates me except finding I am out of toilet paper.



Sabrina: Do you really like your kids or are all of these posts just fictional? My children NEVER do stuff like yours.

Me: Fictional? Not hardly. While my children are very intelligent they are at times air headed. I have never been a mother that thinks my children are the smartest, the prettiest and do no wrong. They are real people and at times do really stupid things, I simply point these out as a way to write an amusing blog. Obviously you have perfect children that do no wrong. I applaud you. Which tribe of faeries did you say you live with?




Martha: I would love to come and hang out with you some time, you seem fun.

Me: I can be as long as you don't cross me. You are welcome to come but you must be aware that one stupid comment or action is going to get you in my blog. Also I have a hateful Chihuahua who might bite, he doesn't like strangers and I don't like to break his spirit by teaching him different because I really don't like strangers either so why should I force him? I also have a psychotic pug who thinks everyone loves her as much as she loves them. She has a large tongue and loves to kiss so I ask that you not wear creams or make up for her safety. She sheds so black may not be the best choice in clothing while visiting my house. She will also steal out of an open purse so please make sure you have a zippered purse. If the word fuck, or any variation of the word, bothers you then you might prefer visiting the neighbor, we let fly with the word quite often around here.


Joseph (Joey): Do you party a lot?


Not unless you considered sipping on a Mojita while in my flannel Mickey Mouse pj's partying. Sometimes I really let my hair down and watch the Cartoon Network at the same time. It just seems to make more sense when your drinking Mojito's. On a really wild night I might even leave my underwear off under my pj's. Next time your in town look me up, but don't forget to bring your flannel pj's!


Karen: Do you really lay around in your pajamas's all day and take Valium?


Me: No, of course not! My medication has been changed to Klonapin so I lay around in my pajamas's all day and take Klonapin. I must change that in my header, I don't want to mislead anyone.

Bill: My wife and I are huge animal lovers. We don't like the way you refer to your dogs at times in your blogs. My wife wants me to call your local animal control to see if they could find them better homes.

Me: I am sorry I offend you. Do you need to the number to my local animal welfare office? I do have one favor to ask. Could you wait to call until May 4th? I plan on a weekend in the  mountains at that time and it would save me a ton of boarding fees on the little ingrates.


Phone calls:


Mom: Do you have a 1/3 cup measuring cup?
Me: Yes, why?
Mom: Well, I am making a cake and can't find mine.
Me: Are you calling to borrow mine? Mom, I live 700 miles away, surely someone you know right there in town has one and you can use it right away. Better yet have Dad run to town and buy you a new one.
Mom: I'm sure they do but I just thought I would ask you first. I'll send Dad to town.


Mom: I think I will go to a yard sale today.
Me: Thank God I live to far away and don't have to be drug all over town to yard sales. Mom, you hate yard sales so why are you going?
Mom: Well I would never buy anything from a yard sale, you just never know where it has come from.
Me: Then why do you go?
Mom: Well, this one is right next to that little restaurant I have been wanting to try out and Dad hates yard sales, it will be a piece of cake to get him to leave the yard sale and go over there and eat. It's called reverse psychology, dear.

Mom: I just got back from town. I went with Suzie to the doctor and she has me wore out. Do you know she left me in the car for almost 2 hours while she chatted with a friend in the post office? I love her dearly but she just never knows when to be quiet. Why doesn't she just wait until she gets back home and call them on the phone to chat?
Me: Yeah, I know, that is why I won't go anywhere with her when I come home. But Mom you do the
same thing when we go anywhere with you.
Mom: I do not!  I NEVER chat with anyone for more than an hour and a half when I am out running around like that and know the rest of you are waiting on you.
Me: Why don't you just call them when you get back home and chat.
Mom: Do you have any idea how hard it is to get someone off the phone? They want to talk forever and they just go on and on about nothing.
Me: Well what do you talk to them about when you see them out somewhere?
Mom: Oh, nothing much. Just gossip and things in general.

Mom: We had a really good service at church today.
Me: Yeah? What was it about.
Mom: I'm not really sure, I didn't get much sleep last night so I nodded off and didn't hear it, I'll have your Dad call and tell you what it was about.
Me: No, you don't have to do that. If you were asleep then how do you know it was a good service?
Mom: Dad told me.

We Didn't Killed The Easter Bunny, Just The Chocolate Rabbit!

I am usually all about any holiday that has food involved and would never turn my nose up at a good Easter spread.  But it's all the other nonsense that comes with Easter that I can't and never could tolerate. Mostly because I can't make sense of it. When Jesus arose from the tomb was there a man dressed up as a giant rabbit waiting to greet him with plastic Easter grass in one hand and colored eggs in the other? Were there multitudes of children running around yelling "Hey mister, you didn't forget the candy, did you? Where are the peeps? I like the blue ones best!" I just don't get the connection. Even as a small child it made no sense to me. I liked the getting a new dress and shoes for church every Easter, but the hunting egg part after church was so stupid to us that we usually skipped out the backdoor and down the street to Grandma's house before any parents could even register that we were gone. Grandpa knew this and always left the back door unlocked for us. We didn't have a lot of self control at that age so many times when the family finally all filed in for the big Easter spread there were chunks missing from the ham, missing deviled eggs that my aunt had so lovingly arranged to look "pretty", not a fried chicken leg left for any stupid child that had stayed to hunt eggs, etc.  Then someone always drug out those stupid Easter baskets for us kids. I hated the hollow chocolate rabbit and would only eat his bow tie, eyes and nose, I can't stand peeps in any color or shape, the gold wrapped coins meant nothing if they could not be spent on good candy. Then the jelly beans, I don't think there is a candy on earth I hate more than jelly beans and they would scatter them all through the basket. The other kids liked to sit by me while going through the baskets though, I would toss those jelly beans and gold wrapped coins over my shoulder every time I found one, praying that just one Easter someone would put some decent damn candy in the basket it rarely happened and mine was usually left laying outside somewhere with the mutilated chocolate rabbit still in it surrounded by mashed peeps that had gotten in the way of my digging through the plastic grass for any good stuff.

Then I grew up and had my first child. Easter rolls around and he was only 7 months old so I still felt nothing except buying the new outfit for church. Then the second Easter rolls around and it hits me. I have to color some eggs, put a basket together and then hide these eggs in a way that a 19 month old can find them. I even bought the giant hollow chocolate rabbit, although I did eat the bow tie, the eyes and it's nose so he wouldn't choke on it, even though the child had a mouth full of razor sharp teeth. So there I am coloring eggs and I realize that it is no more fun for me doing it for my child than it was when I was a child. I still hated all the Easter trappings except the dinner and church. So much so that by the time I got to the plastic grass mess I was in tears and calling my Mom. If she had not so kindly offered to take over all the, what I call, Easter mess, every year after that for me then my son would have been an only child. Just the thought of having to deal with that mess for more than one child would have been enough to shut down my own eggs to prevent fertilization.

But then the military interferes with my Easter plan and I realize I am not always going to be home during Easter or even close enough to drive back home for my Mom to handle this mess. Only now, based on my Mom's promise,  I have given birth to a second child. I quickly realized I could throw an Easter party, provide all the adult food and there was always some idiot Mom that loved coloring and hiding eggs and making Easter baskets. They were always glad to do mine too since I was busy setting up the meal for the adults. Got it covered. This plan worked so well for so many years I even had a third child.

But then life interferes with my Easter plan again. Now we have retired from the military and moved back to my at the time husband's home state to help care for his ailing father. Easter comes and I am in despair. Three kids all expecting the big Easter blow out staring me in the face. I fleetingly thought about suicide but my third one was sensitive and might forever associate chocolate bunny's with Mommy blowing her brains out so I quickly pulled myself together and went on the hunt for someone in the family who loves the Easter mess. I was fortunate, she lived right next door, my very own mother-in-law. Only she loved it more than anyone I had ever been able to con into it before, she loved it more than the kids did. It turned into more of a production and it started two weeks before Easter. She wanted to be the one that took and bought each child their Easter outfit for church. You go Granny! She wanted to cook the whole dinner. I love you Granny! She wanted to put giant Easter baskets taller than my kids and filled to the brim. You're a saint Granny! She wanted to color all the eggs but it was a two day affair so the kids had to spend the night, these were no ordinary eggs these were elaborately decorated eggs that should be in an art exhibit. You're my hero Granny! The hiding of the eggs encompassed both of our very large yards and took hours to hide and even more for the kids to find. Worthwhile though because Granny puts money in some of the eggs and we are not talking dollar bills or some change. The golden egg had $100 in it. I suddenly discovered the joy of hunting Easter eggs for the first time in my life. I am so comfortable and happy with the arrangement that I have a fourth child.

When Demon Seed and The Devil's Advocate was about two I could see thet were definitely my children, they were not in the least impressed with any of the Easter mess. Theye hated it and only went through the motions. Then came the night when they were around six years old and it was egg coloring night at Granny's. About 7 pm I get a call that Demon Seed is feeling ill and wants to come home, I trot across the yard to get him knowing full well there was nothing wrong with the child other than the thoughts of going through the motions again had finally gotten to him. He comes to the door with a giant hollow chocolate rabbit (he hated them even more than I had as a child) because Granny feels so bad he is missing all the fun she wants him to at least have something for the night. We thank her and go back across the yard to our house. We hang for a bit, eat some snacks and suddenly he looks at me and says "Mommy, I have an idea! Let's smash the chocolate rabbit with a hammer and see what happens." Since we weren't going to eat the stupid thing and God knows the other 3 kids didn't need the extra sugar that is exactly what we did. We took that rabbit outside, placed it on the step and smashed the hell out of it. Best Easter fun ever for me and for him too. From that year on I covered for him, he liked the going out to dinner before coming back to Granny's for the Easter mess so every year after that he got sick right at egg coloring time and I claimed he had developed an allergy to the dye and it was a shame but he understood that he couldn't participate in that part of the fun and would need to come home. Every year we bashed a hollow chocolate bunny on the back step.  He was luckier than me though, even though he disliked most of the candy in Granny's basket we had a 220 pound Great Dane that loved it, so anything non chocolate went to the Dane. That Dane loved peeps so much that he would steal them out of the other kids baskets if they left them in reach, and he stood 6' 3" when on his back legs so there wasn't much that wasn't within his reach. In other words the peeps belonged to  him, always.

This past Sunday on Easter Demon Seed turned to look at me during dinner and ask "Mom, how many times do you think we killed the Easter bunny over the years?" He let our secret out, the traitor child.

I think Granny will recover by next Easter in time for the great-grandkids who are depending on her.

Student Nurses

First let me say I admire anyone willing to go into this profession. Now let me tell you how much I have grown to hate having to work or teach them over the years. It simply has to be physically impossible for some people to be so incredible stupid.


Student #1 Bless her heart, she thinks it's all about sitting by the bedside and holding someone's hand to make them feel better. Plus you get to buy all those cute little scrubs with all the designs and characters on them and she loves those shoes she saw with the buckle on them, she is going to get her some of those to wear as soon as she graduates.  I want to talk to her in a few years while she is scrubbing blood out of those cute buckles, I will then tell her about Crocs, for now I will let her dream. I want to see her face the first time she realizes she can't see the designs and characters on her scrubs because they are now covered in blood, shit and vomit. It won't take her long to learn to just grab a pair from the cart at work and let the hospital worry about cleaning them. Holding someone's hand in a high level trauma until really doesn't do much to help them out.


Student #2 Ah, this one is going to save the world, she is never going to have a patient die on her shift. I will remind her of this some day. I ask her just how she was going to save the motorcycle rider whose brains fall out in her hands when she takes off his helmet. Her reply? I will stuff them back in and then the doctor can stitch them back together. God I hope I live long enough to be able to see that ground breaking procedure done. I ask her how she was going to tell the parents of a three year old that had just drowned in the family pool that the child was dead. Her reply? Well first she won't use the word dead, because it's so...well....final. She will tell them their child is in a better place now.  I explained to her that she has to use the word "dead" because in a high trauma situation nice words like "passed away", "in a better place", "living with God now", "we lost him", can fly right over their head, they don't hear it, they can't take it in, their world is upside down and their brains don't have the ability to process the niceties of this world in a time like that. The word "dead" they get, that they understand right away. Dead only has one meaning. As cruel as that sounds it really is the kindest way in the long run, it leaves no illusions. I overheard a doctor telling a family once that they had done everything they could for their daughter and there was nothing else left they could do. The family was ecstatic, what they heard was "we have give her all the medical knowledge we have and now she doesn't need anything else so she is going to be fine" , another time a nurse told someone that she "was sorry but they had lost their daughter", the family became furious because what they heard was "your daughter is someplace in this hospital but we don't know where we seem to have misplaced her". Student #2 informs me she just isn't going to worry about it because if that time ever comes God will be there with her. I reminded her that he will most likely be there with her but he isn't going to be the one that has to inform the family their loved one just died. God is going to need to be with this one because she has a lot to learn and seems intent on learning it the hard way.


Student #3 This one is actually very smart and going to make a great nurse, she knows everything she should know at this level and is actually a little more advanced. She pulls no punches, tells it like it is. She just has to get over her fear of doctors, or rather her idea that they are Gods (actually most doctors need to realize they aren't God's too). I will not be yelled at by a doctor, I just say fuck you and walk away. I will not let a doctor make me feel less than him, I have a doctorate too, I can even use the title Dr just like he can, mine just happens to be in nursing and his in medicine. I never let a doctor bark orders at me (this is not the same as you hear in the middle of a trauma when we all bark orders at each other because we don't have time to be nice), if you want something ask me nicely or I am just going to stand there and ignore you, you respect me and I will respect you. I would love to see one of them ask me to get him a cup of coffee, I see them do it to other nurses but none of them have ever ask me, they probably already know the answer they would get if they tried to ask me. She has to learn that if she has a patient that needs something in the middle of the night and the doctor ignores her call or gives her some "in a minute" excuse that she doesn't have to and can't accept it. Keep calling him and call bullshit on his in a minute. They don't answer me back in a minute then I call them every minute until they do. Ignore me and we will go see the board. Once she learns to handle the doctors and when that student nurse fear leaves her she is one that is going to learn it quickly, she is going to be an excellent nurse.


Student #4 I don't even know why this one is here. She literally can't stand anything to do with nursing. I think she is one of those that just thinks it sounds good to say "I'm a nurse". Her reply to most requests are either "Do I have too" or "Ewww gross". She spends most of the shift either hiding or picking lint off of her scrubs. I called her name the other day and she actually turned around to see if their was anyone miraculously behind her with the same name. We had a nasty trauma come in, knife to the chest with the knife still embedded (that's a good thing, it can help control the bleeding and also gives the surgeon a guide as to exactly what organs could have been damaged) you never, ever pull out any object that could be in a high bleed area outside of the surgical bay with all precautions in place) so since all his vitals were normal and he was awake and aware I send her in to stay with him until we could get him up to surgery. I suddenly hear him scream. I go running back to find her holding the knife in her hands and saying "He kept asking me to take it out, I can put it back" Are you fucking kidding me, you want to stab him again? Now I have a whole host of problems that didn't exist before and wouldn't have if she had just done as she was told and observe him. Now I have a heavily bleeding wound site and I can't tell where or what organ the blood is coming from. I have a a student nurse's fingerprints all over an attempted murder weapon and blood possibly washing away any other potential evidence. I have a student nurse under my watch that did something outside of the scope of her capabilities. I also now have a ton of paperwork to write up the whole mess. She will never know how badly I wanted to take that knife and stab her.


Student #5 This one, well she's kinda cute but that's about it. She carries a tape recorder around with her and dictates every move we make as we are doing something. "Just had a car accident victim come in, the medics have him on a stretcher and are running fast to Trauma Bay 6, they are now in Trauma Bay 6 and a bunch of doctors and nurses are going into the room, let me get closer so I can see better. Ok, here I am at the door. One nurse is trying to start an IV, one nurse is doing vitals, OMG now they are getting out the crash cart, doesn't look good for this guy...and on and on and on. " I don't know if she listens to all of them later when she goes home, if she transcribes them to help her remember but it is annoying as hell.  She can't handle bodily fluid in an form. Blood makes her turn white and back away, piss and shit makes her gag and vomit makes her vomit. Now I am cutting her a break on the last one because even after all these years that is the one thing I can't take. If a patient is vomiting he better be prepared to share the basin because I am going to be vomiting with him. She is fine with a nude woman patient but a nude male patient turns her seven shades of red and she is not going to touch "that thing" for anything. She is terrified of dead bodies. She is there and willing to help (with the live ones) and learn but I just don't know if she will make it unless she toughens up a little bit.

Thank God we only have to deal with 5 of them at a time.

Stuff n Such

It's been a while since I posted.  Remember the fall I took at the Japanese restaurant? Well it turned into a major experience. First the wound on the knee got infected, not just a little infected but gangrene, staph and strep infected. Trip to the ER, treatment and things are going to be fine. Two days later the leg  turned bright red, when that happened I knew I was in trouble so back to the ER, this time admitted and a whole regimen of  IV antibiotics and more cultures. Oh and let's not forget the stupid student nurse that came in and told me I had a nasty sunburn. Did she really think I put on clothes from head to toe and then cut out a piece so I could just tan my lower leg?  Anyway, released again, the next morning I get up and the leg and foot are both swollen double so I knew cellulitis had now set in too, back to the doctor, back to the hospital for another admission and more of the above. This has been going on for almost two weeks. It's better now although you can still see my "sunburn" but the swelling is only minimal, most of the pain is gone and I can walk on it again.

 I did try to work on the blogs some yesterday but blogger is so screwed up it is driving me crazy, some of the backgrounds won't show up, then some have the page so wide you have to scroll. They all look horrible right now. One blog will be fine and the next two messed up, then another good one again. Yet they are all using the same code. I am seriously thought of moving all the blogs someplace else but just cussed them out instead.

Have you ever really looked at four sleeping teenagers? They look like they have all been in some horrible massacre except there is no blood. One is laying in the bed, that would be Demon Seed. He has one arm slung up over his head in an oddly bent manner, I can't even see his other arm, his head is turned to one side, mouth open and drooling, eyes half open. One leg is on the bed the other hanging off the side of the bed.   The Devil's Advocate is occupying the other bed, face first into the pillow, do demon children not need air to breath? One is laying on the futon, kinda. Actually from the waist up he is on the futon and the rest of him is on the floor. His face is face down into the futon cushion, one arm wrapped around the side bar the other laying loosely at his side fingers resting on the floor. The third one is in a sleeping bag on the floor. At least I think he is, I can actually only see a lump in the middle of the sleeping bag and both dogs are accounted for so I am assuming it is him.  One groans, one farts and my drooler is smacking his lips so I am pretty sure they are all alive.

How does one seemingly innocent child ruin two brand new pair of jeans in one afternoon? I don't get it. He puts on his brand new white jeans and goes to hang with friends, he wasn't gone long before he comes home and tells me there was some little kids at the skate park trying to learn something so he was going to show them how to do it, he bombed and rolled into the grass. Grass stains all over the white jeans. Then he goes and puts on his new black jeans. Sounds like a good move, right? It would have been had he not decided that he needed to bleach his skateboard wheels at that exact moment, couldn't wait another second to bleach those wheels. I told him that if he gets any of that bleach on those jeans it would ruin them, he turns to look at me and says "I know, I will be careful", that was the moment the toe of his shoe got caught in the wood on the deck and he poured the whole bowl down the front of his shirt and jeans. Yep, he is a certified drooler! The scary part? This is a MENSA kid.



I realized just how much I hate my ex louse this week. I met this guy, good looking, really sweet, very polite and wasn't hurting in the income department. I really liked him until I asked what profession he was in and he told me he was an aeronautical engineer. Same as my ex and I swear if you had been standing beside me you would have heard  the snap as my brain shut down. All at once I wanted no part of him just because he shares the same profession. I have to get over this, they can't all be jackasses. Maybe they all take Jackass 101, 102 and in my ex louse's case he also signed up for Jackass 103 while in engineering school. Until that is proven not to be true I think I will stay away from them. I have decided that I will sleep with the next one that damn good looking before I even ask his profession though.



I was also faced with another trauma this week. Night before last my chihuahua, who is like a tumor attached to my body, kept running off to the bedroom to bark. Now even though he is a chihuahua he rarely barks and when he does it is usually for a reason that you need to go check on because something isn't right. I went to my bedroom and he is standing on my bed looking out the window every time. My bedroom is upstairs so I sleep with the window open because according to my sons I have never heard of extension ladders and therefor am not really safe, I just think I am. Anyway I would look out and see or hear nothing but still the dog kept barking and pacing. This went on all night long. At daylight I could finally see what his issue was, a huge stray cat had died right under my window. So I call the city to come and dispose of it and I am told they can't come until Monday because they were off for Good Friday and the weekend. But they would be happy to pick it up Monday for me. Seriously, I am suppose to sleep with this rapidly decomposing and wonderfully smelling cat under my window for three nights in the Alabama heat? Not to mention the barking and pacing it was going to keep my dog going through. I made many calls and could get no one to come get the stupid cat so I finally sucked it up, dressed up in long sleeves and pants and threw on some surgical gloves, I would have used a hazmat suit if I had one, and went to dispose of the dead cat myself. I had no other option. I quickly realized that the cat was way too big for me to hold a garbage bag with one hand and pick the cat up with the other hand so I called in reinforcements. The Devil's Advocate, the one who gags at anything even remotely gross. So there we are he is holding the bag, I am picking up mammoth cat and trying to get it in the bag. Every time I got close to the bag, The Devil's Advocate had to turn around a vomit, causing me to miss the bag. We repeated this about five times before I finally told him if he did it one more time we switched places and he would pick up the cat while I held the bag so if he felt he needed to vomit this time he better just vomit on himself or swallow it. With the fear of God in him he managed to hold still that time and I finally got the cat in the bag. Then it hit is both. Ok, we have this huge dead stinky cat bagged but what the hell do we do with it now? I called the city begging, telling them I had already done the hard work could they just come get it. Not until Monday. They suggested I throw it in a dumpster. I ask if she was serious because even though it's a dumpster it's not exactly made for hazardous materials which is what any dead thing becomes. She told me she was serious so that's what we did. Me driving, my son holding the bag out the car window and looking for a dumpster. My son came home and I know he scrubbed himself for an hour in the shower even though he never once touched anything but the bag. I don't think a career in medicine or animal control is in his future.  The career fields he can manage are getting slimmer, I fear it may end up in some type of engineering and then I am going to have to disown him because of my unreasonable hatred of engineers.