That La Kid

wishin' an' hopin'!

nurses

Let me preface this whole thing by saying that I’ve got nothing against nurses, and I agree their job is a tough one.  My cousin Amy is a nurse.  She worked really hard to get there, and works a whole lot now that she has made it.

That said…

Have you ever seen anyone toot their own horn as much as your nurse friends do, like, on facebook?  I guess people say a lot about teachers, but the teachers themselves remain inherently modest.  What IS IT with nurses?

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That is what put me over the edge today.   Let’s start at the very beginning, a very good place to start.  Memory of an elephant?  Really?  Because I have told you 7 times that my pain is at a level 8, and you keep saying, “okay, let me go check with your doctor.”  I guess that guy is tough to wrestle down.  When we were in the hospital with Bruce, we were constantly reminding the nurses when we needed something.  I brought a breast pump from home because pumping is something that MUST be done on time or you risk ruining the whole thing.  I could not risk waiting on a nurse to find a hospital breast pump.  So, memory of a human, I would say.  As for an angel’s patience, I can’t really argue with that.  It’s a job that I could never do.  I completely lack the people skills.  But not everyone is like me.  I couldn’t be a waitress either.  But waitresses and nurses are compensated for doing their job.  Many of them can’t draw like I can, or use a camera, or set up studio lights.  And I am fairly compensated for that.  Does anyone remember Nurse Austin?  I would hardly call his patience divine, would hardly say his heart was “as big as the sun.”

I would say that he followed protocol.  “Well, we can’t let you leave until you eat.”  “Alright, but when I eat, I throw up.”  “Well, we can’t let you leave until you eat.”  I wanted fruit, and he wouldn’t give me fruit.  He just gave me bread.  And I threw it up.  The overnight nurse let me order fruit for breakfast and guess what – I walked out of there that afternoon.  Yeah.  Maybe m’body knows what m’body needs, even if YOU think the acid in the fruit will upset my stomach more.

I realize nurses are waist-deep in blood, vomit, urine and shit sometimes.  Did they not anticipate that going in?  They didn’t teach ya’ that in nursing school?  How about the long hours?  Were you not aware that someone works overnight in hospitals?  Are you really surprised that patients in a hospital are sick, cranky, and puking left and right? I get that the job is hard, I get that.  I’m just saying they knew that going in and still signed up for it.

I see these things all the time about how unappreciated nurses are.  Yeah?  Well, Monday, May 6 is Nurses Day.  There is no such thing as Graphic Designers Day or Video Producers Day.  (We just get this, http://clientsfromhell.net/.)  Oh, but my job doesn’t necessitate a day of appreciation.  I don’t know how difficult it is to be a nurse.  Okay.  Fair enough.  But you never hear about Firefighters Day or Doctors Day (although I was surprised to learn they do exist).

You know why “they say it’s an easy profession?” (Although, I don’t think “they” do.)  Because when “they” are in the hospital, they get their vein blown 3 times before someone (in this case, my dad – guess what, not a nurse!) is able to do it correctly.  Because “they” see you come in, take their blood pressure, ask if they need anything and then leave, promising to bring them that cup of ice.  And then “they” don’t see you again for 2 hours.

The only thing worse than the way nurses talk about how awesome they are is moms.  OH MY GOOOOSH, Moms!  “I’m a nurse (ha!), chauffeur, counselor, cook, maid, waitress, teacher, handyman, security officer, photographer, counselor, event planner, personal assistant, ATM…”  No.  You’re a mom.  Shut up.

Holy crap, this person gets me: http://www.parentwin.com/2012/01/just-mom-yes-just-mom-facebook-just-mom.html

Couldn’t have said it better myself.  In the same vein, doing all the nurse-stuff with awesomeness doesn’t make you an angel.  It makes you a really good nurse.

ImageIs it really all that indignant to bathe a patient?  How is that supposed to make the non-nursing world feel, as patients?  Aaaand, it kind of is about the pills and the charting.

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Or… Labrador Retriever.

 ImageSo, no chance I can speak to the doctor who will be performing the surgery? You know, the one who went to medical school for 8 years?

ImageOk, well in that case forget this entire post. 

***Just to reiterate, in case Amy is reading, this is not about the dedicated nurses who quietly go along doing their job to the best of their ability.***

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resolute

I don’t like New Year’s resolutions.  Probably because I make them every year and here I am morbidly obese, biting my nails, no children’s book written, no job to go to, no savings account of my own… you get the idea.

I don’t like being fat.  Now, before you even go there, it’s okay.  I am fat.  I am.  There are fatter out there, but yea, it’s true.  Obese.

I very diligently dieted and exercised in 2009 and I started to shape up.  Then i plateaued, lost hope and gave in to Aussie Cheese Fries.  Every year, it seems, I watch some documentary that scares the crap out of me and then decide to be healthy for a little while.

So, I’m not doing it.

There are some things I’d like to see happen.  I’d like to see a reduction in my facial hair.  I can’t help but think that this is connected to PCOS and being damn-near pre-diabetic.  I’d like for my knees to stop making that noise when I walk upstairs.  I wouldn’t mind weighing less.  But, I’m not setting myself up for failure with some New Year’s Resolution to diet and lose weight.

I have to confess, the genesis of this idea actually was a documentary again.  I watched “Hungry for Change” on Netflix.  The movie opens by saying something like, “we’re no longer eating food, but food-like products” that look and taste more amazing as technology improves.  But I don’t want to eat technology.  I don’t want to put engineered products inside me.  I want to eat… well… food.  Food like my ancestors ate.  Tomatoes.  Spinach.  Lettuce.  I am betting my ancestors didn’t eat kale, but I hear it’s good for you, too.  They sure didn’t eat Krispy Kreme donuts and waffle fries and chocolate milkshakes.  I’m not saying I’ve had my last Baskin Robbins, I’m just saying I want my diet (defined as the typical foods a particular species eats, by the way, as opposed to Weight Watchers) to be based on healthy, real food.

For example… a typical day after I had Bruce:

  • No breakfast. 
  • Lunch around 2: Chickfila sandwich, large fries, large Dr. Pepper/Coca-Cola split.
  • Dinner pretty late: something delicious that Tom made (spaghetti, garlic bread and a salad), or if we’re tired, Outback (12 oz. steak, cheese fries, steamed veggies, salad with ranch and some Bloomin’ Onion).  And either way, another Coke.

Today, I had:

  • Everything bagel, 2 eggs.
  • Dark leafy green salad, organic chips and salsa.
  • Hamburger with mushroom and shallots, dark leafy green salad, steamed brocoli, carrots and snow peaas.
  • More chips and salsa.
  • No soda, tons of water.

See, I’m not saying no to beef forever.  I just don’t want my diet to be based on that kind of stuff.  If at all possible, we are trying to cut out processed stuff.

Now look, I like Krispy Kreme and Outback and Chickfila.

I heard this thing in church once.  A Biblical scholar was teaching when a student asked him, “So, now that I am saved, I am free to do as I please?”  And the teacher replied, “Yes.  But what now pleases you?”  If you have truly become a follower of Christ, you want to drop everything and follow him, live your life to glorify his name, and be a missionary every day.  It’s kind of the same way with this.

Instead of saying, “I’m on a diet, I can’t have that.”  I’m feeling, “I can have that, but I don’t want it.”

It’s not proven science, but I feel like the excess fat contributed to the PCOS, which contributed to the cyst, and facial hair growth.  “If you are what you eat, then I only want to eat the good stuff!”  I don’t want to have a fatty liver made of french fries and barbecue and high-fructose corn syrup.  I want to have vibrant, thriving cells made up of spinach and heirloom tomatoes.  I just want to be healthy.  You know what I mean?  I FEEL like the cyst was made of poor choices.  I don’t want to make those choices anymore.

They compare sugar in a lot of ways to cocaine in the documentary.  It was really good.  You should watch it.

Anyway.  No resolutions, but Tom and I are going to give this a shot for 2 weeks and see how we feel after that.  We might even see what we can do about exercising.

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