Friday, October 30, 2009
Happy Halloween
Just thought I'd share my Halloween pumpkin, not the most elaborate I've ever done but I think it's a good for the occasion.
Wednesday, October 28, 2009
Monday, October 26, 2009
Martin
Given my habit of procrastination when it comes to clothing (as stated in my previous post), it won't come as a surprise that I've had a too-big pair of pants for several years. I probably shouldn't admit this, but during the time when I also didn't own a belt, I used to make it through the day by tying a piece of yarn through the belt loops around my waist. Deborah, my colleague, was rightfully shocked and teased me to no end, but I continued to live with what I thought was a perfectly functional solution.
About 8 months ago, an idea popped into my head--a tailor! I should take my pants to a tailor! But I had no idea how to go about doing that, and when I started asking around I kept hearing horror stories. I found a few viable options on Yelp and set the pants aside so I could take them in. Then the week would get busy, I would run out of things to wear, I'd pull out the same too-big pants (with a belt that I bought along the way), and then put them back aside at the end of the day so I could take them to the tailor. This has gone on for 8 months now.
Today, however, was a new day. Today I packed the pants in a bag and set off in search of Sew Special. I hoped the tailor would have pity on a girl with no tailoring experience. I expected to be greeted by either an Asian couple or a petite man with a lisp and an attitude when I pulled open the door, so I was surprised to find Bob Marley drifting out the door as I walked in. There at the sewing machine sat my new tailor--a loose, knitted cap in black and green sat on top of his dreadlocks, a salt and pepper beard, a black-yellow-green sweatshirt. "Hello there, how are you? What can I do for you?" he asked in a strong accent.
I showed him my pants. "I need these taken in."
"Yeah, mon. Why don't you just go put them on for me."
He was Jamaican. Very Jamaican. And while I went behind the curtain to change into my pants. He and his friend lilted away in the patois of which I could understand only every third or fourth word. While he measured my pants I told him about the two weeks I had spent in Jamaica while in college learning about the culture. I proudly told him the two words/phrases that I had learned in Jamaica: pickney: child; and nyam de food: eat the food, and he nearly split his side he was laughing so hard.
"I never thought I would meet an American who could speak Jamaican!"
I quickly reminded him that those were the only two words that knew. But never the less, he asked me what my name was (in Jamaican patois), to which I replied, "Twenty-one?" And then he proceeded to tell me about how he is also a DJ at a Jamaican club down the street, and I should come by sometime!
We sang a folk song together (Mango Time), and he sent me on my way with homework. I have to buy a yard and a half of some "funky" fabric so he can make another pair of my pants into a skirt for me. (When I saw a photo someone had taken recently I realized that these pants were actually not very flattering at all.) Good thing I have Martin in my life now!
About 8 months ago, an idea popped into my head--a tailor! I should take my pants to a tailor! But I had no idea how to go about doing that, and when I started asking around I kept hearing horror stories. I found a few viable options on Yelp and set the pants aside so I could take them in. Then the week would get busy, I would run out of things to wear, I'd pull out the same too-big pants (with a belt that I bought along the way), and then put them back aside at the end of the day so I could take them to the tailor. This has gone on for 8 months now.
Today, however, was a new day. Today I packed the pants in a bag and set off in search of Sew Special. I hoped the tailor would have pity on a girl with no tailoring experience. I expected to be greeted by either an Asian couple or a petite man with a lisp and an attitude when I pulled open the door, so I was surprised to find Bob Marley drifting out the door as I walked in. There at the sewing machine sat my new tailor--a loose, knitted cap in black and green sat on top of his dreadlocks, a salt and pepper beard, a black-yellow-green sweatshirt. "Hello there, how are you? What can I do for you?" he asked in a strong accent.
I showed him my pants. "I need these taken in."
"Yeah, mon. Why don't you just go put them on for me."
He was Jamaican. Very Jamaican. And while I went behind the curtain to change into my pants. He and his friend lilted away in the patois of which I could understand only every third or fourth word. While he measured my pants I told him about the two weeks I had spent in Jamaica while in college learning about the culture. I proudly told him the two words/phrases that I had learned in Jamaica: pickney: child; and nyam de food: eat the food, and he nearly split his side he was laughing so hard.
"I never thought I would meet an American who could speak Jamaican!"
I quickly reminded him that those were the only two words that knew. But never the less, he asked me what my name was (in Jamaican patois), to which I replied, "Twenty-one?" And then he proceeded to tell me about how he is also a DJ at a Jamaican club down the street, and I should come by sometime!
We sang a folk song together (Mango Time), and he sent me on my way with homework. I have to buy a yard and a half of some "funky" fabric so he can make another pair of my pants into a skirt for me. (When I saw a photo someone had taken recently I realized that these pants were actually not very flattering at all.) Good thing I have Martin in my life now!
Sunday, October 25, 2009
TJ Maxx
I have been let in on a secret. Lately, more and more, perhaps because of the recession, when I've spotted a particularly striking article of clothing on a friend and inquired after its origin, the response at the ready is "TJ Maxx." TJ Maxx has never really been on my radar, but yesterday, in need of some boots so I can finally wear some of the fall/winter skirts that hang in my closet I google-mapped and headed out.
Upon walking into the store, my eye immediately fell on a royal blue Asian cocktail dress. Curiously, however, it was marked at $200. Interesting, I thought, and passed it by. The next thing I gravitated toward was a beautiful gray wool, hip length coat. $1568.00. !!! What about all the super savings??
It turned out the Super Savings were crammed in the back half of the store on racks with aisles so narrow that when someone approached and murmured, "Excuse me," I practically had to crawl underneath the rack to let them pass. (Note: I think actually doing so is frowned upon.) But then I saw a rack of dresses for $15-20. Grabbed a handful of those. And oh! a few shirts too. Made 2-3 trips to the dressing room to try on my finds. Wait, what did I come here for again? Oh, boots! Over to the shoe aisle. Chaos. Actually it was kind of like the DMV. Some shoes were side by side with their mate exactly where they were supposed to be, waiting for would-be buyers. Some shoes were standing with their mate in the wrong aisle, not understanding why their number never popped up on the screen. Then there were the unlucky few that were sitting there all alone. Their mates having gotten lost in the confusion. Luckily I found the one pair of boots that seem to fit around my enormous calf muscles (tango-or at least that's what I like to think). The only reason they were still waiting around was because they were sitting on the size 5 shelf. (I am not a size 5.)
I think it should be noted that I do not have a healthy relationship with shopping. Some people shop regularly, buying 1-2 items each time or sometimes coming away empty-handed if there weren't inspiring clothes or good bargains. My shopping habits can really only be described as a combination of anorexia and bingeing. I find shopping somewhat inconvenient, so I tend to go for really long periods of accumulating things I need but not doing anything about it. Then one day I'll finally get around to it and try to find everything I need at a one-stop-shop. Inevitably the sticker shock factor is much higher this way.
My TJ Maxx experience fell into line with my stated habits, and I ended up lugging a pair of boots, a sweater, an AMAZING dress, 2 pieces of wall art, and a set of pillows up the 3 flights of stairs to my apartment. The boots and the dress hit the bulls-eye (minus the neon green size 8 sticker that is stuck on the sole of each boot, which a friend graciously pointed out to me at last night's cocktail party. Classy.). The jury is still out on the pillows. Some of you might have heard about the unfortunate incident my pillows recently had with the washing machine.
Will I go back? Yes. Now I need a set of sconces to go with the new metallic wall art. However, I will try to avoid having my return visit fall on a Saturday.
Note to my sisters and parents: Thanksgiving this year is going to be a black tie function, because I need another occasion to wear my dress. Plan accordingly.
Upon walking into the store, my eye immediately fell on a royal blue Asian cocktail dress. Curiously, however, it was marked at $200. Interesting, I thought, and passed it by. The next thing I gravitated toward was a beautiful gray wool, hip length coat. $1568.00. !!! What about all the super savings??
It turned out the Super Savings were crammed in the back half of the store on racks with aisles so narrow that when someone approached and murmured, "Excuse me," I practically had to crawl underneath the rack to let them pass. (Note: I think actually doing so is frowned upon.) But then I saw a rack of dresses for $15-20. Grabbed a handful of those. And oh! a few shirts too. Made 2-3 trips to the dressing room to try on my finds. Wait, what did I come here for again? Oh, boots! Over to the shoe aisle. Chaos. Actually it was kind of like the DMV. Some shoes were side by side with their mate exactly where they were supposed to be, waiting for would-be buyers. Some shoes were standing with their mate in the wrong aisle, not understanding why their number never popped up on the screen. Then there were the unlucky few that were sitting there all alone. Their mates having gotten lost in the confusion. Luckily I found the one pair of boots that seem to fit around my enormous calf muscles (tango-or at least that's what I like to think). The only reason they were still waiting around was because they were sitting on the size 5 shelf. (I am not a size 5.)
I think it should be noted that I do not have a healthy relationship with shopping. Some people shop regularly, buying 1-2 items each time or sometimes coming away empty-handed if there weren't inspiring clothes or good bargains. My shopping habits can really only be described as a combination of anorexia and bingeing. I find shopping somewhat inconvenient, so I tend to go for really long periods of accumulating things I need but not doing anything about it. Then one day I'll finally get around to it and try to find everything I need at a one-stop-shop. Inevitably the sticker shock factor is much higher this way.
My TJ Maxx experience fell into line with my stated habits, and I ended up lugging a pair of boots, a sweater, an AMAZING dress, 2 pieces of wall art, and a set of pillows up the 3 flights of stairs to my apartment. The boots and the dress hit the bulls-eye (minus the neon green size 8 sticker that is stuck on the sole of each boot, which a friend graciously pointed out to me at last night's cocktail party. Classy.). The jury is still out on the pillows. Some of you might have heard about the unfortunate incident my pillows recently had with the washing machine.
Will I go back? Yes. Now I need a set of sconces to go with the new metallic wall art. However, I will try to avoid having my return visit fall on a Saturday.
Note to my sisters and parents: Thanksgiving this year is going to be a black tie function, because I need another occasion to wear my dress. Plan accordingly.
Saturday, October 24, 2009
Fall 09
I just wanted to put some pictures up from the arboretum today. I think this might be the prettiest fall since our first year in Illinois. The trees were gorgeous! Unfortunately my camera died so I wasn't able to take as many pictures as I would've liked. Guess I'll have to go back tomorrow for more! There were so many people out enjoying the colors, I don't think I've ever encountered so many people on the roads in the arboretum.
Wednesday, October 21, 2009
Food for Thought
I have been hearing a lot of pieces on NPR related to healthcare reform lately. (Then again, where is healthcare reform NOT a hot topic?) One I found particularly poignant compared our current healthcare structure to a grocery store.
Imagine that our employers collaborated with grocers to provide food for us each week. We could go into the grocery store, pick out whatever we wanted, head to the checkout counter and pay our "co-pay," be it $10, $15, $20 or what have you. We could have lobster tail and caviar every night if we wanted for no more than the cost of our co-pay! With no direct link to the cost of our food, we would have no incentive to balance high- and low-priced items.
Grocers, on the other hand, could hike up prices of their products exponentially because we, the consumers subsidized by our employers, would still happily buy them. Before long, however, we would be entrenched in a system where grocers had pushed prices up so high that those without the benefit of employer-related subsidies would no longer be able to afford to eat.
And then where would we be? Hmm.. precisely where we are right now...
Imagine that our employers collaborated with grocers to provide food for us each week. We could go into the grocery store, pick out whatever we wanted, head to the checkout counter and pay our "co-pay," be it $10, $15, $20 or what have you. We could have lobster tail and caviar every night if we wanted for no more than the cost of our co-pay! With no direct link to the cost of our food, we would have no incentive to balance high- and low-priced items.
Grocers, on the other hand, could hike up prices of their products exponentially because we, the consumers subsidized by our employers, would still happily buy them. Before long, however, we would be entrenched in a system where grocers had pushed prices up so high that those without the benefit of employer-related subsidies would no longer be able to afford to eat.
And then where would we be? Hmm.. precisely where we are right now...
Friday, October 02, 2009
Cause and Effect
My spring and summer were filled with the discovery that I could incorporate the European lifestyle into my own life right here in Chicago. 10:00 or 10:30 am several days a week would find me at a downtown cafe sipping an espresso with a friend/coworker before heading back to the office.
I rarely drank coffee before, let alone espresso, but it really helps one get in the mood..
Now that fall is here, I'm realizing how long it's been since I've taken care of certain things, such as visiting the dentist. Since I lost my dental insurance a few years ago, I haven't been in a while. Yesterday I went in and had my general cleaning and x-rays, and Dr. Born broke the news that I have two cavities! I was very surprised given that I have had a clean record until now. When I expressed this, Dr. Born informed me that the principal causes of cavities are diet changes and sugary beverages like soda. "But I NEVER drink soda!" I exclaimed.
"How about coffee with sugar?" he asked.
GASP! The sugar is what makes the espresso palatable! And so, my friends, the moral of the story is that even the lovely langour of the European life is not without pitfalls.
Today I ordered a latte to wean myself off the sugar. No sugar, but a lot more milk. It wasn't bad. But it's not the same.
I rarely drank coffee before, let alone espresso, but it really helps one get in the mood..
Now that fall is here, I'm realizing how long it's been since I've taken care of certain things, such as visiting the dentist. Since I lost my dental insurance a few years ago, I haven't been in a while. Yesterday I went in and had my general cleaning and x-rays, and Dr. Born broke the news that I have two cavities! I was very surprised given that I have had a clean record until now. When I expressed this, Dr. Born informed me that the principal causes of cavities are diet changes and sugary beverages like soda. "But I NEVER drink soda!" I exclaimed.
"How about coffee with sugar?" he asked.
GASP! The sugar is what makes the espresso palatable! And so, my friends, the moral of the story is that even the lovely langour of the European life is not without pitfalls.
Today I ordered a latte to wean myself off the sugar. No sugar, but a lot more milk. It wasn't bad. But it's not the same.
Monday, September 28, 2009
Nursing Chronicles
I am LONG overdue for a post. To add to Caitlyn's post about our apartment falling apart, there have been further occurrences involving a shower curtain rod falling on my head and the back door knob falling off. I think we may need to do a seance or some kind of offering to the Washtenaw ghosts.
Now time to bring you all up to date on my life since starting nursing school. I don't really have much of a life outside of classes and clinicals. I made it through the summer successfully, actually finishing with pretty decent grades but without really having much experience outside of mannequin and fake arms--for blood draws, starting IVs and practicing giving meds. This week begins week 5 of the fall semester and I am SO busy! I am taking obstetrics, pediatrics and medical/surgical 1 and 2, with theory classes on Mon and Fri and clinicals on Tue, Wed, Thur. Tue is the longest day med/surg 7am-7pm, Wed--OB 7am-2pm, Thur--Peds 2pm-9pm. Each site offers something different but by far my favorites have been labor and delivery, postpartum and the pediatric intensive care unit (PICU)--in that order. I've had the opportunity to see a baby be born, draw blood, administer medications (IV, oral and injection), catheterize and provide wound care (changing dressings) to name a few of the more exciting things.
In med/surg we usually stay on one floor but we get the chance to go to the rehab floor (PT/OT), the OR (I'm SOOOOO excited, I may get to watch an open heart or transplant!!) and oncology. I've had a variety of patients but for the most part I don't really enjoy med/surg--maybe it's just the floor I work on but it's so depressing, especially when the patients are getting terminal diagnoses. The one patient that really bummed me out was a 21 yr old guy who was transferrred from Guatamala for complications from a gall bladder removal. He looked like a Holocaust survivor--he hadn't been able to eat and weighed 81lbs. He was also in lots of pain but his Nurse Practioner wouldn't prescribe him IV morphine because she didn't want him to get used to IV meds since they wouldn't have them in Guatamala. She prescribed oral meds but he refused them because he wasn't able to eat anything and they cause upset stomach. It was upsetting/frustrating. But the worst part was that before he'd had his gall bladder removed he had NO medical history, awful. I knew from the get-go it wasn't a place I was going to want to work but it has been a good/interesting experience so far--but 12 hr shifts are so LONG!
With OB we go to the neonatal intensive care unit (NICU), labor and delivery, triage, postpartum, outpatient clinic and mammograms. This week will be my first week in the NICU and I'm excited! L&D was an amazing experience (nurses only have 1 patient), the patient I was assigned to was supposed to deliver vaginally but ended requesting a c-section. I think I was more excited about the baby than the mom, it was just so cool that a second before there was nothing and then there was a whole new life in the room. I was also able to hold the baby for nearly an hr and I will point out that the baby was a honkin 10lb 12oz!!!!!! My arms were sore the next day.
In postpartum I did my first blood draw and I got it on the first try! It was really nice, I liked the pace. It has been the once place where I felt like I could handle having more than one patient at a time. The nurses tend to have 4-5 patients. It was kind of a relaxing floor, letting the patients rest and bond with their babies. I was really nervous to do a postpartum assessment and newborn assessment but they went over just fine and my patient was very understanding. It was also really exciting that when she asked me questions I actually KNEW the answers!!! And fortunately nobody hemorrhaged while I was on the floor--some of the other girls both had patients that started massively hemorrhaging their first day on the floor.
In mammograms I observed several different procedures and the radiologist on call that day was amazing. He explained all the procedures to me (even though I didn't understand half of what he said), made sure I could see and let me ask questions. It's always nice to have people willing to teach you things. The day I was in triage was fortunately a busy day. I walked patients back to their rooms and asked them why they were there. You'd think they'd all be coming in in labor--not so. One woman came in pregnant with twins at 36 wks for a fetal stress test, another woman came in because she'd been side-swiped and they wanted to monitor the baby, one woman came in because she was very sick with a cold and they wanted to monitor the baby, the other women that came in were either in active labor or the early stages of labor. We sent one woman home because she was not progressing which was unfortunate for her because she lived in Rockford--a good 2 hr drive.
Another woman who came in in labor was just truly unpleasant--We asked what brought her in and she snapped "Are you kidding me?!" We weren't. We then proceeded to get her into her room, asked some questions and left for a bit. When we returned the nurse flipped on the light and the patient barked "you could've warned me!" We had to start her IV because she needed penicillin as she was positive for a bacteria that can be very dangerous to babies as they're born and a blood draw. The needle my nurse used was HUGE and she blew the vein on attempt number one, which caused an instant goose egg. So she had to stick the woman again and as we walked out the nurse said "well that's not how that was supposed to go, I didn't use lidocaine because she was being such a snot." Ouch. Another patient knew NOTHING about her pregnancy--not her due date, her doctor, how much weight she'd gain (which I'd know down to the ounce). The only thing she knew was that she was high risk because the doctors suspected a heart defect--she was the one we sent home because despite contractions she hadn't progressed after an hr of walking around.
Peds we also get to have off-floor experiences in the PICU, NICU and pediatric ER. I've been to the PICU and I'll be going to either the NICU or Peds ER this week. I absolutely loved the PICU, the nurses only have 1-2 patients at a time (in med/surg they tend to have 5-6) and there is always something to do. The nurse I was paired with was very helpful and taught me a lot. She also let me do a straight catheterization--it doesn't stay in--on one of her patients. A 6 yr old boy who had come in after his mom had hit a parked construction truck--she was high. When the paramedics arrived he had no heartbeat but they resuscitated him and brought him to the PICU where he proceeded to code/crash on and off for 12 hrs. He was in the front seat of the car and suffered such severe whiplash that his spine was almost completely separated. He was trached and on a ventilator with minimal brain function. It was very hard to see the hardest part was that he moved in response to touch, despite being completely paralyzed. They were spinal reflexes but try explaining that to the grandmother who sees that and thinks he may be coming back. Despite that sad story and the 5 yr old patient who died last week I still liked it.
My second week on the floor I had a patient that didn't arrive until 5pm--we go off the floor at 7pm. So I wandered around and helped people where they needed it. Including helping a nurse do a blood draw on the strongest 2 yr old I've ever met; AND he was in almost a full body cast. Ridiculous. The following week as I went to flush my 3 yr old patient's IV line with water her started screaming, so I stopped. Then my instructor tried and stopped when he started screaming again. The nurse came in and told us to go ahead, sometimes they just get startled because the water is cold under their skin. It was not the case. When I pushed the 3mL water in--to more screams--all of a sudden both my instructor and the nurse called out 'stop stop!' I'd already put it all in but then I saw the bubble in his arm. His IV was infiltrated--the line had slipped out of his vein and all the water went into his skin, which is very painful. I felt horrible, though I know what it looks like and sounds like for the future. I got back on my patient's good side with chocolate milk and mac-n-cheese.
Last week I was just on the floor and I had the most difficult patient on the floor. He had come in with pressure ulcers--having been born with down's. He had a stroke that ended with a massive brain bleed and left him unresponsive. He ended up getting surgery for his sores but while I was caring for him they suspected he had developed blood clots in both legs. I gave him a feed through a tube that goes straight into his stomach. He was also trached and required suctioning--which I got to do, as well as trach care (cleaning the part that sits in the neck, replacing the ties that keep the plastic plate in place) While I was doing that with my instructor, and being observed by 4-5 other classmates, his grandmother walked in and looked mad. Unfortunately it took a long time to get the new ties in place because his body was very stiff from having not moved in so long. When we finally finished 2 girls stuck around with me so we could change his sheet. But it was not meant to be a smooth process. The sheet was stuck to his surgical wound/staples, so we were spraying the sheet and wound with a special product that was supposed to help loosen the sheet. But it wasn't working so I told the other girls to stop and went to get the nurse--who sent in the tech. When I got back in the sheet had unstuck so we got the old one out from under him--slowly and gently because we didn't want to make anything worse. Then the grandmother got more mad and called out "this is taking too long, where's the nurse?" None of use answered because we were focused, so she left the room and got the nurse. Upon re-entering with the nurse she shouted at her "this is taking too long, there are too many people in the room, they don't know what they're doing and we said we didn't want any students with him." So we repositioned the kid and I got out of there as quickly as possible. It was a frustrating and upsetting experience. Not because the grandmother didn't want students--that's fine, I completely understand--but because she said I didn't know what I was doing, when I was doing everything I could to keep him from getting hurt and because my nurse didn't come to help when I asked. And it wasn't the first time that day.
It seems like I have a lot of horrible experiences but every week has its ups and downs, and I'm still trying to get comfortable doing everything. I have been enjoying myself despite some of the bad days. The hardest thing at the moment is finding the time to do all the paperwork I have for clinicals, sleep, eat and study for exams. It will be wonderful when I'm done with all this paper writing business. I just volunteered to work a health fair on the south side of Chicago giving flu shots, BMI, BP, wellness screenings, that kind of thing. Should be interesting to say the least. Sorry this is SOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO long but I had a lot to catch you up on.
Now time to bring you all up to date on my life since starting nursing school. I don't really have much of a life outside of classes and clinicals. I made it through the summer successfully, actually finishing with pretty decent grades but without really having much experience outside of mannequin and fake arms--for blood draws, starting IVs and practicing giving meds. This week begins week 5 of the fall semester and I am SO busy! I am taking obstetrics, pediatrics and medical/surgical 1 and 2, with theory classes on Mon and Fri and clinicals on Tue, Wed, Thur. Tue is the longest day med/surg 7am-7pm, Wed--OB 7am-2pm, Thur--Peds 2pm-9pm. Each site offers something different but by far my favorites have been labor and delivery, postpartum and the pediatric intensive care unit (PICU)--in that order. I've had the opportunity to see a baby be born, draw blood, administer medications (IV, oral and injection), catheterize and provide wound care (changing dressings) to name a few of the more exciting things.
In med/surg we usually stay on one floor but we get the chance to go to the rehab floor (PT/OT), the OR (I'm SOOOOO excited, I may get to watch an open heart or transplant!!) and oncology. I've had a variety of patients but for the most part I don't really enjoy med/surg--maybe it's just the floor I work on but it's so depressing, especially when the patients are getting terminal diagnoses. The one patient that really bummed me out was a 21 yr old guy who was transferrred from Guatamala for complications from a gall bladder removal. He looked like a Holocaust survivor--he hadn't been able to eat and weighed 81lbs. He was also in lots of pain but his Nurse Practioner wouldn't prescribe him IV morphine because she didn't want him to get used to IV meds since they wouldn't have them in Guatamala. She prescribed oral meds but he refused them because he wasn't able to eat anything and they cause upset stomach. It was upsetting/frustrating. But the worst part was that before he'd had his gall bladder removed he had NO medical history, awful. I knew from the get-go it wasn't a place I was going to want to work but it has been a good/interesting experience so far--but 12 hr shifts are so LONG!
With OB we go to the neonatal intensive care unit (NICU), labor and delivery, triage, postpartum, outpatient clinic and mammograms. This week will be my first week in the NICU and I'm excited! L&D was an amazing experience (nurses only have 1 patient), the patient I was assigned to was supposed to deliver vaginally but ended requesting a c-section. I think I was more excited about the baby than the mom, it was just so cool that a second before there was nothing and then there was a whole new life in the room. I was also able to hold the baby for nearly an hr and I will point out that the baby was a honkin 10lb 12oz!!!!!! My arms were sore the next day.
In postpartum I did my first blood draw and I got it on the first try! It was really nice, I liked the pace. It has been the once place where I felt like I could handle having more than one patient at a time. The nurses tend to have 4-5 patients. It was kind of a relaxing floor, letting the patients rest and bond with their babies. I was really nervous to do a postpartum assessment and newborn assessment but they went over just fine and my patient was very understanding. It was also really exciting that when she asked me questions I actually KNEW the answers!!! And fortunately nobody hemorrhaged while I was on the floor--some of the other girls both had patients that started massively hemorrhaging their first day on the floor.
In mammograms I observed several different procedures and the radiologist on call that day was amazing. He explained all the procedures to me (even though I didn't understand half of what he said), made sure I could see and let me ask questions. It's always nice to have people willing to teach you things. The day I was in triage was fortunately a busy day. I walked patients back to their rooms and asked them why they were there. You'd think they'd all be coming in in labor--not so. One woman came in pregnant with twins at 36 wks for a fetal stress test, another woman came in because she'd been side-swiped and they wanted to monitor the baby, one woman came in because she was very sick with a cold and they wanted to monitor the baby, the other women that came in were either in active labor or the early stages of labor. We sent one woman home because she was not progressing which was unfortunate for her because she lived in Rockford--a good 2 hr drive.
Another woman who came in in labor was just truly unpleasant--We asked what brought her in and she snapped "Are you kidding me?!" We weren't. We then proceeded to get her into her room, asked some questions and left for a bit. When we returned the nurse flipped on the light and the patient barked "you could've warned me!" We had to start her IV because she needed penicillin as she was positive for a bacteria that can be very dangerous to babies as they're born and a blood draw. The needle my nurse used was HUGE and she blew the vein on attempt number one, which caused an instant goose egg. So she had to stick the woman again and as we walked out the nurse said "well that's not how that was supposed to go, I didn't use lidocaine because she was being such a snot." Ouch. Another patient knew NOTHING about her pregnancy--not her due date, her doctor, how much weight she'd gain (which I'd know down to the ounce). The only thing she knew was that she was high risk because the doctors suspected a heart defect--she was the one we sent home because despite contractions she hadn't progressed after an hr of walking around.
Peds we also get to have off-floor experiences in the PICU, NICU and pediatric ER. I've been to the PICU and I'll be going to either the NICU or Peds ER this week. I absolutely loved the PICU, the nurses only have 1-2 patients at a time (in med/surg they tend to have 5-6) and there is always something to do. The nurse I was paired with was very helpful and taught me a lot. She also let me do a straight catheterization--it doesn't stay in--on one of her patients. A 6 yr old boy who had come in after his mom had hit a parked construction truck--she was high. When the paramedics arrived he had no heartbeat but they resuscitated him and brought him to the PICU where he proceeded to code/crash on and off for 12 hrs. He was in the front seat of the car and suffered such severe whiplash that his spine was almost completely separated. He was trached and on a ventilator with minimal brain function. It was very hard to see the hardest part was that he moved in response to touch, despite being completely paralyzed. They were spinal reflexes but try explaining that to the grandmother who sees that and thinks he may be coming back. Despite that sad story and the 5 yr old patient who died last week I still liked it.
My second week on the floor I had a patient that didn't arrive until 5pm--we go off the floor at 7pm. So I wandered around and helped people where they needed it. Including helping a nurse do a blood draw on the strongest 2 yr old I've ever met; AND he was in almost a full body cast. Ridiculous. The following week as I went to flush my 3 yr old patient's IV line with water her started screaming, so I stopped. Then my instructor tried and stopped when he started screaming again. The nurse came in and told us to go ahead, sometimes they just get startled because the water is cold under their skin. It was not the case. When I pushed the 3mL water in--to more screams--all of a sudden both my instructor and the nurse called out 'stop stop!' I'd already put it all in but then I saw the bubble in his arm. His IV was infiltrated--the line had slipped out of his vein and all the water went into his skin, which is very painful. I felt horrible, though I know what it looks like and sounds like for the future. I got back on my patient's good side with chocolate milk and mac-n-cheese.
Last week I was just on the floor and I had the most difficult patient on the floor. He had come in with pressure ulcers--having been born with down's. He had a stroke that ended with a massive brain bleed and left him unresponsive. He ended up getting surgery for his sores but while I was caring for him they suspected he had developed blood clots in both legs. I gave him a feed through a tube that goes straight into his stomach. He was also trached and required suctioning--which I got to do, as well as trach care (cleaning the part that sits in the neck, replacing the ties that keep the plastic plate in place) While I was doing that with my instructor, and being observed by 4-5 other classmates, his grandmother walked in and looked mad. Unfortunately it took a long time to get the new ties in place because his body was very stiff from having not moved in so long. When we finally finished 2 girls stuck around with me so we could change his sheet. But it was not meant to be a smooth process. The sheet was stuck to his surgical wound/staples, so we were spraying the sheet and wound with a special product that was supposed to help loosen the sheet. But it wasn't working so I told the other girls to stop and went to get the nurse--who sent in the tech. When I got back in the sheet had unstuck so we got the old one out from under him--slowly and gently because we didn't want to make anything worse. Then the grandmother got more mad and called out "this is taking too long, where's the nurse?" None of use answered because we were focused, so she left the room and got the nurse. Upon re-entering with the nurse she shouted at her "this is taking too long, there are too many people in the room, they don't know what they're doing and we said we didn't want any students with him." So we repositioned the kid and I got out of there as quickly as possible. It was a frustrating and upsetting experience. Not because the grandmother didn't want students--that's fine, I completely understand--but because she said I didn't know what I was doing, when I was doing everything I could to keep him from getting hurt and because my nurse didn't come to help when I asked. And it wasn't the first time that day.
It seems like I have a lot of horrible experiences but every week has its ups and downs, and I'm still trying to get comfortable doing everything. I have been enjoying myself despite some of the bad days. The hardest thing at the moment is finding the time to do all the paperwork I have for clinicals, sleep, eat and study for exams. It will be wonderful when I'm done with all this paper writing business. I just volunteered to work a health fair on the south side of Chicago giving flu shots, BMI, BP, wellness screenings, that kind of thing. Should be interesting to say the least. Sorry this is SOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO long but I had a lot to catch you up on.
Thursday, September 24, 2009
Lost in Translation
I feel like not so many funny things have been happening to me lately. This morning I think I realized its because I'm not working at my old place. Life without so much stress is so TAME!
On Tuesday one of my dear friends (and former coworkers) arrived in Chicago to begin a new visa term with the "old place." She is from Morocco and had nearly a 48-hour endeavor to get here, before she was deposited safely onto the air mattress we set up for her in our apartment until she has a chance to find her own place. Despite the exhaustion we chatted until the wee hours of the morning, before I made myself go to bed, knowing I would have to be up for work at the crack of dawn. Before I left in the morning, I drew her a map to get to the train station, left her some cash (I didn't even know if she'd gotten to change money yet!), and then I scooted out the door.
When I got home later, Awatif was not there because she had to go and teach her first class in the afternoon. We got dinner all ready knowing she would be tired when she got home, but I expected her to arrive around 6:30 pm. At 7:15 when she still hadn't arrived, I started to get worried. What if she hadn't oriented herself well and didn't know how to get to my house? She didn't have an active cell phone yet, so there was no way to be in contact with her. I started calling former coworkers who might be able to tip me off as to her whereabouts. And of course, no one answered their phone. Finally I called the COO of the company (a good friend while I worked there, but I hadn't been in touch in at least a year) and left a message:
Hi Ken, it's me. Hope you're well. Listen, I'm calling because I'm just being a worried mom tonight. Awatif is staying with me for a few weeks, and she hasn't gotten home yet. She can't call me, so I just want to find someone who might know where she is. Blah blah blah, call me when you get this message.
Awatif arrived later, no problem, rolling her eyes that I worried so much. (I guess she IS 30 years old, and has lived in Chicago for 4 years before going back to Morocco this past year...)
Anyway, Ken called me back this morning while I was on the train on my way to work. I answered the phone and was hit with a torrent of words:
Caitlyn! I couldn't hear your message so well, but I heard you're a mom! Congratulations!! I didn't even know you were expecting! Are you married? Well, I already sent an email to the whole team telling them the good news, and everyone was so surprised!!
If I had been still sleepy before I got that call, I was fully awake by then! As I tried to interject, he rambled on, When I sent a message to your mom, she was pretty surprised too!
And then I realized he was pulling my leg. Good grief! What a way to start the day. No coffee necessary.
On Tuesday one of my dear friends (and former coworkers) arrived in Chicago to begin a new visa term with the "old place." She is from Morocco and had nearly a 48-hour endeavor to get here, before she was deposited safely onto the air mattress we set up for her in our apartment until she has a chance to find her own place. Despite the exhaustion we chatted until the wee hours of the morning, before I made myself go to bed, knowing I would have to be up for work at the crack of dawn. Before I left in the morning, I drew her a map to get to the train station, left her some cash (I didn't even know if she'd gotten to change money yet!), and then I scooted out the door.
When I got home later, Awatif was not there because she had to go and teach her first class in the afternoon. We got dinner all ready knowing she would be tired when she got home, but I expected her to arrive around 6:30 pm. At 7:15 when she still hadn't arrived, I started to get worried. What if she hadn't oriented herself well and didn't know how to get to my house? She didn't have an active cell phone yet, so there was no way to be in contact with her. I started calling former coworkers who might be able to tip me off as to her whereabouts. And of course, no one answered their phone. Finally I called the COO of the company (a good friend while I worked there, but I hadn't been in touch in at least a year) and left a message:
Hi Ken, it's me. Hope you're well. Listen, I'm calling because I'm just being a worried mom tonight. Awatif is staying with me for a few weeks, and she hasn't gotten home yet. She can't call me, so I just want to find someone who might know where she is. Blah blah blah, call me when you get this message.
Awatif arrived later, no problem, rolling her eyes that I worried so much. (I guess she IS 30 years old, and has lived in Chicago for 4 years before going back to Morocco this past year...)
Anyway, Ken called me back this morning while I was on the train on my way to work. I answered the phone and was hit with a torrent of words:
Caitlyn! I couldn't hear your message so well, but I heard you're a mom! Congratulations!! I didn't even know you were expecting! Are you married? Well, I already sent an email to the whole team telling them the good news, and everyone was so surprised!!
If I had been still sleepy before I got that call, I was fully awake by then! As I tried to interject, he rambled on, When I sent a message to your mom, she was pretty surprised too!
And then I realized he was pulling my leg. Good grief! What a way to start the day. No coffee necessary.
Wednesday, September 23, 2009
Spontaneous Combustion
Last weekend our bathroom fell apart. Sunday morning Emily walked into the bathroom and flipped on the light. It popped and sizzled and flashed and then fell dark. Lightbulb gone.
Sunday evening I crawled out of the most relaxing "glory bath" (as Dad calls it). I pulled open the door and before I knew what had happened, I was standing there with the doorknob in my hand and the door was no longer attached. The other side of the antique crystal knob hit the floor with a thud. Luckily the door also opened or I would have had a big problem.
Monday morning our houseguest emerged from our dark, doorknobless bathroom to delicately inform us that our toilet was overflowing onto the tile floor. Within seconds water was pouring out into the hall onto our hardwood floor.
Coincidence? The jury is out.
Sunday evening I crawled out of the most relaxing "glory bath" (as Dad calls it). I pulled open the door and before I knew what had happened, I was standing there with the doorknob in my hand and the door was no longer attached. The other side of the antique crystal knob hit the floor with a thud. Luckily the door also opened or I would have had a big problem.
Monday morning our houseguest emerged from our dark, doorknobless bathroom to delicately inform us that our toilet was overflowing onto the tile floor. Within seconds water was pouring out into the hall onto our hardwood floor.
Coincidence? The jury is out.
Tuesday, September 15, 2009
Playmates
One of my favorite things to do is wear orange jewelery with blue or green outfits. Matching is so conventional! In Spanish the translation for "this matches that" literally translates back to English as "this plays with that." Isn't that so much better? My orange and blue don't match, but they play well together.
It's the small things.
It's the small things.
Sunday, September 06, 2009
Berry UMC
After a somewhat bitter hiatus from the church, I have, shall we say, returned to the flock. Over the last year or so, I'd thought about trying to find a church in the city and I visited a few but it just never stuck. For a few reasons:
1) I'd gotten out of the habit of having Sundays available to go, and I would forget or just had things pulling me in other directions.
2) Urban churches tend to have a skewed demographic of young people. I really like having a mix of ages and generations because I think that's where the wisdom comes from. Most families with school-aged kids and mature adults live in the suburbs.
3) I visited a few, but came away feeling so so.
A few weeks ago, I visited a church called Berry about a 15-20 minute walk from my house, where I had previously been to see a play in the basement. Amazingly, on my first visit someone actually came up and introduced herself to me. She invited me to coffee hour and introduced me to several other people. The church is smallish and old--celebrating 100 years next week, and when I came back the next week they remembered me.
The pastor is a grandmotherly woman with kind eyes and a warm heart, and she started this week's sermon by saying, "I want everyone to just take a moment and think about the deepest desire of your heart this morning. That thing that your heart is just wrapped around right now." She paused and then continued, "sometimes we lose touch with that because we are so busy defending ourselves from being let down." BAM! Hit the nail right on the head for me this morning.
Her husband is a drawing and painting professor at a University in the neighborhood. Considering that, the fact that the Lincoln Square Theatre Company is housed in their basement, and that the music during the service is played by a motley rotating ensemble--guitar, piano, viola, violin, harmonica, and hand drum, it seems to be quite a creative congregation.
At the conclusion of every service there is a hymn that serves to send people back out into their lives. They pause while the ushers go to the front of the church to collect the crates of percussion instruments and walk down the aisles letting everyone take their pick. This morning I reached in and pulled out the first thing my hand touched. It was a plastic shaker in the shape of a cucumber. I was feeling a little self-conscious until I saw the lady in front of me was shaking a banana. The harmonica and the rest of the music wailed as we all sang, and shook, and the pastor and kids danced with tambourines in the front. It's hard to maintain a sour attitude with all that joy smacking you right in the face!
1) I'd gotten out of the habit of having Sundays available to go, and I would forget or just had things pulling me in other directions.
2) Urban churches tend to have a skewed demographic of young people. I really like having a mix of ages and generations because I think that's where the wisdom comes from. Most families with school-aged kids and mature adults live in the suburbs.
3) I visited a few, but came away feeling so so.
A few weeks ago, I visited a church called Berry about a 15-20 minute walk from my house, where I had previously been to see a play in the basement. Amazingly, on my first visit someone actually came up and introduced herself to me. She invited me to coffee hour and introduced me to several other people. The church is smallish and old--celebrating 100 years next week, and when I came back the next week they remembered me.
The pastor is a grandmotherly woman with kind eyes and a warm heart, and she started this week's sermon by saying, "I want everyone to just take a moment and think about the deepest desire of your heart this morning. That thing that your heart is just wrapped around right now." She paused and then continued, "sometimes we lose touch with that because we are so busy defending ourselves from being let down." BAM! Hit the nail right on the head for me this morning.
Her husband is a drawing and painting professor at a University in the neighborhood. Considering that, the fact that the Lincoln Square Theatre Company is housed in their basement, and that the music during the service is played by a motley rotating ensemble--guitar, piano, viola, violin, harmonica, and hand drum, it seems to be quite a creative congregation.
At the conclusion of every service there is a hymn that serves to send people back out into their lives. They pause while the ushers go to the front of the church to collect the crates of percussion instruments and walk down the aisles letting everyone take their pick. This morning I reached in and pulled out the first thing my hand touched. It was a plastic shaker in the shape of a cucumber. I was feeling a little self-conscious until I saw the lady in front of me was shaking a banana. The harmonica and the rest of the music wailed as we all sang, and shook, and the pastor and kids danced with tambourines in the front. It's hard to maintain a sour attitude with all that joy smacking you right in the face!
Sunday, August 23, 2009
Toby's new trick
Check it out. We were so grateful to have my sisters (and Mike, of course) helping us out on the long car ride to Colorado. It definitely saved our sanity. This is the new trick that Caitlyn taught him.
Wednesday, August 12, 2009
Gem Lake & Hole in the Sole
Wednesday we finally made our regular hike up to Gem Lake. Along the way there are terrific views out over Longs Peak and Estes Park from various points on the mountainside. There is also a particular rock shaped like a foot with a hole through the middle. When Jen, Caitlyn, and Laura were first coming up here we would have then slide through the "hole in the sole". Now it's Elinore's turn!
Monday, August 10, 2009
YMCA of the Rockies
We arrived safe after about a 19 hour drive stretched out over two days. Altitude at our cabin is 8300 ft so we've taken a day to acclimate. We rode up Fall River Road, a twisty, winding dirt road going up and along the continental divide. Maximum altitude was 12,300 ft and we all felt the thin air and cold wind. We ate lunch on an outcrop of rocks with a 360 deg view of miles and miles of mountains. All is well except for some minor cases of wind burn and feeling wiped out.
Wednesday, August 05, 2009
Just had to share this.
This weekend when Mom and Dad were here we played some games. We were playing sequence and luck seemed to be going my way. Dad, in a moment of sequence despair, picked up the origami bird he had made with Elinore earlier in the day. He held it over my blue playing chips and said, “May the bluebird of happiness crap on your pieces.”
I am still laughing.
I won the game.
Friday, July 31, 2009
Family Band
Toby has been practising for the Bodine Family Band. His specialty is the sliding whistle, and to fit his personality he plays while running around the room. Never a slow moment for our boy!
Tuesday, July 28, 2009
The Story of Stuff
While in Texas reconnecting with old friends this weekend, we noticed some trash on the ground. I picked it up saying that I didn't want to harm the earth. Matt nonchalantly declared, "I'm for littering." I looked at him surprised. Being one of my incredibly eco-conscious friends, I figured he must be joking.
"It's going into the earth anyway," he explained. "But if it's here, at least we see it."
Interesting concept. If we had to live among our trash would we produce less?
I just watched a really interesting video clip called the Story of Stuff. A little heavy-handed, but it included some eye-opening facts. I recommend watching it.
"It's going into the earth anyway," he explained. "But if it's here, at least we see it."
Interesting concept. If we had to live among our trash would we produce less?
I just watched a really interesting video clip called the Story of Stuff. A little heavy-handed, but it included some eye-opening facts. I recommend watching it.
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