Perspective!

Many of you probably know I’m a nurse and work in healthcare, dialysis in particular. I've been doing this for quite some time now; seventeen years or so (god I’m old!). Obviously we deal with a group of patients that aren't long for this world, even coming to us in the best of health considering their kidney’s no longer function. Most are there because of diabetes, hypertension, or some genetic condition. Average life span is about three years. Some patient’s last maybe days, some can live productive and meaningful lives for twenty plus years. But at some point, they do pass on.

Over the years you encounter those patients that you think made a pack with the devil because you have no idea how they are still breathing (at least they don't glitter so aren't likely to be an immortal character from the atrocious Twilight series). And then there are those you expect to live for a pretty long time; they are doing fairly or even very well, have  great family support, and most likely don’t have the plethora of serious conditions that the more Grim Reaper teasing patients have. They are the last ones on the  list for imminent demise. But either way… again, doesn't matter, the darkness gathers for us all.

Being what it is, as a nurse or healthcare professional you hopefully build up that emotional wall or shield that, as sad as it sounds, enables many of us to deal with the constant death and soul sucking that this career inevitably brings. You learn skills and techniques to not get “too close” but still demonstrate compassion and empathy. Patient’s really don’t need to know that you’d rather not actually, I guess get attached for lack of a better word,  as long as they feel like you are.  Regardless of how I may personally feel, it’s their belief and their own emotions I care more about. So I just take myself out of the equation as far “myself” is concerned and make sure they feel that I’m a caring and involved caregiver.   

There are always the patients that aren't the most pleasurable, I know I’m crazy intolerable bitch-face when I don’t feel good and that’s usually only a short-term fiasco, but those patients are out there, especially when they are dealing with a chronic condition that isn't going to get better.  You  may want to throttle those patients, but you are still required, and hopefully as a nurse or any caregiver, to treat with dignity and respect and keep your day dreams of “accidentally” putting them on the colonoscopy schedule, to yourself.

Then there are the fun and delightful patients that if you are not careful, will ensnare you with their great attitude and personality and get you “attached”. They make the day more pleasurable for everyone around them and don’t blame the world or take out their frustrations on others. They make you really wish you had a magical wand to BOOP! them on the head with and instantly heal them so they can be off doing better things than having to be in your facility.

But alas, when dealing with either type of patient, I have maintained my wall so if and when they do leave this world, they don’t take a piece of my heart with them.

It’s been years since I've been affected by a patient’s death or even living issue. And even with a recent unexpected passing of one of those awesome type patients, I was saddened of course, the patient was extremely delightful, and I ache for his family, he was clearly a special man, loved immensely and will be sorely missed by us all. But still…I take a few moments to say “Okay, well that sucks” and then I move on. I’m sure my employees think I’m an ice-hearted bitch queen, especially those that cry at the drop of a hat, but, it works for me. Unfortunately the first thing out of my mouth as a manger is “well shit, they had great labs all the time”, or “dang it, they had a fistula”. Whatever it is, I usually get the look of “What the hell?”, and then I make sure they’re (my staff) okay, but I guess we all deal with it in our own way.

But there are those rare moments when those damn patients surprise you, and it’s amazing and humbling. Yay, I’m not an ice-bitch.

Just had a patient take a little ice-pick to my anemic, shriveled-up heart and give me the most wonderful gift. And I was lucky enough, at the time and in that instant to feel it happening. One of those glorious releasing experiences as if you've spent eons trapped hunched over in a five foot by five foot, pitch-black, windowless, and airless brick and mortar prison cell. After your sense of self has fled, decades ago, a piercing white light rips through cracks in the mortar between each brick and whips crisp fresh air into the room, glaring, chilling, and physically renewing.

One of those moments when you have one of those “special” patients feel safe and secure enough to reveal some of the personal demons that are haunting them. And the most heart wrenching part about it is that it was over what should have been a wonderful turn of events.

This patient had what anyone would assume as the best news possible for a dialysis patient, the prospective of an impending kidney transplant. It should have been exciting to know that they wouldn't have to have dialysis anymore. No coming to the center three times a week, watching fluid intake, getting stuck with needles and all the worst parts about having to be on dialysis. He could get a kidney, recover, work again, and be with his family more, including his young children.  Typically this type of news is an occasion to celebrate and enjoy.

However, for him, this opportunity created more stress and terror than it did excitement. The unfortunate circumstances which many dialysis patients find themselves in, is that they are usually financially strapped, living paycheck to paycheck, if their lucky to have a paycheck in the first place. Many patients need help from family and friends and whatever resources are available in the community. This can take a toll on pride, independence and self-governance. Even though this was a much anticipated event, it’s that moment in time that we all find ourselves in that can overwhelm the most precious and exciting news. How will they make it? His wife will have to take time off work, it’s the holidays and he’ll be laid up trying to recover from surgery while he’s supposed to be doing whatever he can for his kids and providing in whatever way, no matter in what limited capacity, for them.  But they will be the ones that will have to care of him. This opportunity is scary. This amazing news and possibility just sent him reeling, frightened and vulnerable; I get it, in that moment I understand his tortuous dilemma, and that I’m a complete fuck-tard!

This beautiful person and moment completely fucked up my chi and made me realize how many of us have no clue how lucky we are. How fortunate, no matter how much we think our circumstances are so woe and crappy, most of us, and especially for myself, we really are.

Seriously? I’m a whining, good-for-nothing, despicable person in that moment. Here I am going about and living in my own little world thinking I have it so hard. Thoughts of, I don’t feel good,  why can’t I write well, why does my job suck, why is that so expensive, gosh I wish I had more money, or blah, blah, blah,  on it goes.  Really? I have a fucking amazing life. I have the most incredible husband, family, and friends. The most important aspects in my life are there and thriving. I’m healthy, happy, and LIVING! This person sitting in front of me has to face this emotionally, physically, financially, and mind-fucking obstacle just to try to improve his and his family’s life. He’s drained, tired and afraid and just gave me the most profound, consciousness-altering gift; a rapid but lasting shift in perspective. I am fortunate. I’m doing pretty damn well; I am O.K. my life is O.K. Everything, right here, right now is just fine. There are worse situations I could be in. I’m not, so why waste time believing I am?

These enlightenments are rare and precious and unfortunately fleeting. To rest in the middle of nowhere, in a field of lofty green grass, feel the sun blinding your eyelids, and feel the warmth of a cool breeze on your skin, for even just a second, is a moment of balance. That balance has to be found, nurtured, and maintained. To experience that magic, finding the seed whenever or however, especially in an unexpected conversation, when your mind and heart open just a crack to let it in, is one of the most profound life experiences to have, and I’m grateful for this tiny glimpse of possibilities. Thank you my patient. 

God-Damn Creepy-Crawling Eight-legged Freaks!

Sup!

God-Damn Creepy-Crawling Eight-legged Freaks! 

Now making my already hellish laundry duties that much more tedious.

As if folding laundry wasn't already time consuming (you’d think my husband and I were really an army regiment), but now it has become necessary to spend hours sifting through the clothes using tweezers or more preferably grilling tongs to inspect each article of clothing prior to physically touching them in order to jumble it into something that at least resembles folded cloth.

Why is this so? Oh because a little bastard spider decided to encroach on my precious unmentionables, or rather my husband’s unmentionables to be specific. (hmmm…. I must research this more to see if he puts out spider attracting pheromones or something). And not just any spider. No, he (it gets to be male for this endeavor) had to be a mammoth, black as midnight, eight-legged fuck-face, creeping out from the folds of a bleached white t-shirt to scare the holy piss right out of me ( No joking, I almost peed my pants).  

Fortunately I only screamed like a demon-possessed banshee, rolled my ankle trying to perform a back-flip, (in a foot and a half of walk space between the bed and the wall and I am no gymnast to say the least) and of course that didn't work out so well, so attempted to break my fall by raking my poor hand across our (I thought this was a fantastic idea at one point) textured walls. And by textured I mean I could shred blocks of cheese for the next century and it’d still slit your wrists at the end. Bounced off the wall and completed what I can only describe as the most epileptic one-woman tango I've ever experienced across the room. Heart racing, now sweating like a hooker from a romp in the back seat of a car, stand there trying to decide if jumping out the window because it’s closer or running like a heathen out the door is a better idea.

Thankfully, Kevin to the rescue.

In comes my wonderful hubby, hearing the fiasco from his office, looking at me like I’d lost my mind. Apparently it was just the use of speech. I’m pointing at his now sinister shirt and mumbling something like “spider” and what does the little fucker (spider) do?,  he freaking takes my hubby on a treasure hunt through the shirt evading him like a little stealthy chameleon, still a black fucking bug in a white shirt and me standing there like Vince Lombardi on the sidelines, blathering and mimicking broken English that "he’s up the sleeve, now he’s getting in another fold, now you’re just burying him deeper" (by now dogs are barking because my voice has reached octaves humans can’t hear anymore), until finally he’s spotted. My husband now understands why I’m insane. The form of the Destructor happens to be a big wad of rolled up toilet paper for this job, but then the little fucking demon attempts the hide and seek game again, thwarting my husband’s targeting dexterity like a boss. But alas… you going down bitch!!! Hubby got him and quite nicely mushed whatever guts and straggling legs into his side of the bed (I’m hoping not really, but I don’t sleep on that side) and promptly flushed him down the toilet.

Seriously spiders? Stay the fuck outside. You do not get to be in my house. And for the love of… whatever, stay the fuck out of my clothes hamper or I’ll have my hubby kick your ass.

Thanks babe!

Happy Birthday Daddy!

Happy Birthday Daddy!

October 13, 2013

Hey Dad. It’s been almost 2 years since you left us. Life is kind of dull without you. Kevin and I got a dog, you’d love her. She’s the sweetest and best mannered dog I could’ve ever asked for. She actually listens and comes back when you let her out of the yard. Unlike Chewie. Hopefully he isn’t quite the little shit where you are.

Kevin and I are both going to school now. I’m working on my masters in nursing and Kevin is still working on his PhD, which I think he may be done before we need an old age home.

Mom’s been fixing up the house. It’s a little strange not seeing the white and yellow house, but it’s really pretty. I’m sure you love it. The downstairs isn't so dark and dungeon like anymore. We sold the truck, which is bizarre. I keep looking at the picture of you and Chewie riding in it up to Fish Lake with mom.

Your granddaughter moved into a house with her boyfriend and who knows what your daughter is up to.

But I miss you. I feel you with me all the time. I can still hear your voice. We have lengthy conversations, which probably last longer than any we had while you were here.  Every once in a while you show up in my dreams, and it isn't until I wake up that I remember. It’s strange to see you in mundane visions, going to the dentist, sitting in your chair, while being oblivious to the fact that you've moved on.

I hope you’re enjoying yourself. Do you get to drink all the beer and eat all the shrimp you want now? Of course it’s probably not Utah beer so I’m sure you’re drunker than shit off of one. I’m sure you’re sitting in some poofy lazy boy watching a football game on a movie screen the size of the world, having a smoke. Do you go fishing? Before the sun is fully up, the lake misty, the forest darkened and lulling, a faint hooting owl deep inside?

Do you they have an awesome Disneyland where you are? Is the ride “It’s a Small World After All” as annoying as the one here? Of course you actually liked that ride. I guess no one’s perfect.

I’m starting to think you must be trying to live vicariously through me, a single person can’t be this addicted to The Walking Dead, which I know you would've loved. It’s gory with guts and blood. Of course its gives mom nightmares so she doesn't watch it. But it would've been a show we could both enjoy without issue. It’s a thousand times better than the B movies you loved to watch like Anaconda and Piranha, to which I rolled my eyes over. And it isn't a political show like the West Wing that I loved to watch, to which you’d roll your eyes.

I know our political differences caused some rowdy fights, and I’m sorry for some of the more heated and scar inducing arguments we had. I know we would probably have a lot more with all the political crap going on right now. But I just envision the usual type of discussion we would have and just end it with you agreeing with me. That’s what you get.

We miss you like crazy. We still love you like no other. It’s challenging to not be able to get a hug from you. You were a large ornery teddy bear, but nothing felt as comfy and reassuring as being wrapped in your arms. I hope you’re doing okay. It’s still hollow here but we’re functioning.

Happy Birthday Daddy…

Love Wendo

Honesty and Transparency My Ass, Mother Teresa!

“Honesty and transparency make you vulnerable. Be honest and transparent anyway.” — Mother Teresa

So this quote was shared from a page I like, which shares tons of great quotes and inspirational ideas all the time. However, this one seriously gave me a bad taste in my mouth. Literally “turned to ash” bad taste. While the quote itself is a nice uplifting statement, I found myself wanting to spit it back out of my head once I read who said it. I chose not to respond to the page itself as I tend to have a bizarre interpretation of things and didn't feel that it was the greatest place to vent my irritation.  And of course, you're probably asking, but what is so horrible about Mother Teresa? Wasn't she this great nun who helped the poor and whom Catholics all around the world are advocating for canonization?

First, I’m not Catholic, or even Christian for that matter, (shocker I know), but I could care less about what “religious” affiliation she had. However, I am a nurse. And the more I discover about this woman and the horrendous conditions her “houses of charity, for the sick and dying” have been and are in makes me want to vomit. She took billions in charity in the name of the sick and poor and did absolutely shit with it for those she said she was helping. Most houses and institutions were kept in squalor and no actual medical attention or medications were distributed in these places. In many instances people were actually made sicker by the conditions this “mother” subjected them to.  My point here is not to rehash all the evidence of this on my blog, Google it if you have no idea what I’m talking about, but rather to delve into why the hell this quote bugs me so much.

The second thing I have an issue with, and is made more pertinent by the fact that she was “Christian” is her statements. While oh so “enlightening” for the hordes of Catholics that worshiped the ground she walked on, they leave no doubt about her vindictive mindset. One of her famous sayings was that she “loved to see the suffering” and her bullshit justification was that it reminded her of Christ’s suffering and sacrifice and love. Really? No, you loved to see the suffering because you loved your billions of dollars even more and could keep it in your pocket because you did not spend a fucking dime of it on those you said you were taking care of.

Lastly, the most aggravating thing about this quote is that even though someone has an epiphany and makes a wise word choice, even rendering the statement empowering or a truism, the source of the quote or statement can severely negate the inspiring effects that were originally intended.  Just the idea of the above quote, honesty and transparency, coming from her, makes me want to laugh out loud. It truly is a great idea… to bad she neglected it in practice. The most beautiful and apt sayings have come from the most horrible people in the world. Take for instance, “Words build bridges into unexplored regions”. This is a very insightful message and I’d love to repeat it if it wasn't for the person that actually said it. Any guesses on where this saying came from?

 3…2…1 … Adolf Hitler.

Great quote, until you think of the millions of Jews that he slaughtered and the ensuing wars and plethora of other lives lost. It kind of makes me sick just too even quote the bastard. But there it is. Something wise said by one of the most “evil” men in the history of the human race.

I’m sure you’re thinking I’m a horrible person for comparing Mother-fucking-Teresa with Mother-fucking-Hitler, but I bet in a few years, everyone will pull the blindfold off, learn the truth about this woman and have no issue with it. I've watched and read the reports on Mother Teresa’s charity houses, which is only the tip of the iceberg of her sorely lacking benevolent spirit and it leaves me with a nasty taste in my mouth probably from the regurgitating bile in my stomach.

The Walking Dead-Why Do I Love You So?

What is it with this show that sucks me in? There have been other shows that I experienced flirtatious affiliations with, as in they have ensnared me enough that I have to see episodes at some point. If I missed them when they aired, oh well, I could see it later.

But nooooooo, not The Walking Dead. 

It is my fluffy, so fluffy I could die! 

My precious! Always wondering “whats has it gots in its pocketses! 

 I have to sit on the edge of my seat and watch it as it airs, EVERY Sunday night at 7 p.m. And god forbid I might miss it. Mass murder crosses my mind when this is even suggested. And I don’t have one ounce of shame in saying that I’m a cracked out salivating Walking Dead groupie.

I even watch it a second time just in case I missed something. And then I hypothesize for hours afterwards about what’s going to happen next week. (Most of course, involve me envisioning myself as a star heroine, maybe an immune loner who can pull Rick back from the brink and kill off the Governor ) J I love the characters, even the ones I hate. (Although I have to say Andrea’s dropping right down my shit list. Somebody please eat her already). It says something about an actor that can appear in only two episodes of the first season and then leave you fuming through two seasons until he reappears and you still want to punch him in the face, thanks Merle.

Is that what it is? The characters, the ones who annoy you, the ones you love and totally blubber on about losing, Lori, Dale, Sophia, or even Shane? The awesome ass-kickers that at first looked like they smelled ripe enough to make you gag but demand a fist pump in the air when they zip an arrow through a zombie’s head to save Rick. Who knew white trailer trash could be so sexy and freaking awesome. And Rick, please quit being crazy already, I’m about to throttle you through my television set.

I don’t think it’s the zombies. They’re zombies, what’s to be intrigued about? Other than the amazing special effects the show has done with them. But zombies? Meh.

But seriously, a zombie apocalypse and I’m squeeing with excitement at the end of the weekend? I can’t tell if I need drugs or if I’m just the biggest nerd in all of womanhood. As I write that I can’t even say which one those who know me would actually pick.

But nerd or anti-psychotic medication aside, is that what it boils down to? That feeling as though the show is too close to reality that after watching a single episode you’re afraid to open your front door because you could literally envision finding a dead man gnawing on somebody’s guts in your driveway? We still don’t know what caused the zombies in the first place, but everything the characters have been going through is completely plausible.

So plausible that I swear the line between pretend and reality is getting fairly thin. Not so much the zombie part, although I see plenty of undead walking around, but that strain one would be under in this alternate universe. When you look around the world we live in, it seems we are on the brink of smashing brains in, engorging on the entrails of our peers, and forming militias to rule our own track of land and people. Is it this that draws people to this show? Maybe it is a simple indulgence of our brutal and beastly side so we can deal with and maintain the rational side of our brain for the other six days and twenty-three hours of the week. Is it a reminder that those we love dearly could be taken at any moment, and what we would do to keep them safe? Would any of us hack off a leg, or would we go crazy enough over the longing of someone to either kill our best friend or jet-pack into crazy space because we can’t process it? Could we really survive on our own, or would we need a group to give meaning to our lives?

There are so many ways one could interpret and analyze this show its disgusting. Mental, emotional, a calling to our base needs for blood and guts, or just to be entertained for an hour, this show has me hooked and craving for more like a starving, pun intended, mindless zombie.  

And of course, it may just be that the creators of the Walking Dead made a great fucking show and I am their biggest fan.

Regardless and for whatever reason, I at least, want to go on this journey and hack my way through the rotting cadavers right along with them. It is my precious.

Calling bullshit on easy-outs

I’m tired of these sayings that “what will be will be” or “it is what it is” as my father used to say, right up to the day he died.  It’s bullshit. It’s being scared. Most of us want life to be an unobtrusive river, meandering through the path of least resistance. If an obstacle comes up, we’ll just go around it. When it’s time to decide between “what will be will be” and taking control by becoming a raging tsunami or a glacial iceberg charging against the Titanic, we decide on the prior because it’s easier, less scary, and doesn't involve facing our inner demons that have made us sick. We can heal ourselves. We are made of stardust. If the universe within can’t heal us, nothing else ever will. The Titanic went down. So too can the soul sucking mother-fucking thing that’s trying to kill us. So instead of "it is what it is" how about we try "Bullshit" or "The hell this shit is gonna win".