Three Little Birds...and a squirrel, if you look real close

It is early on Thanksgiving morning. Just me and the cat...and a 13 pound turkey which is just beginning to sizzle in the oven. Nothing says Happy Thanksgiving like sticking your hand up the freezing cold body cavity of a 13 pound semi-flightless fowl. 

Not quite done yet...

Thanksgiving has long been my favorite of the winter holidays. And Thanksgiving morning is one of my favorite mornings. I am usually the only human up early, the rest taking a few extra hours to rest up for the big food and Home Alone marathon.

The quiet gives me a chance to reflect on all those things I have to be thankful for: home, health, family.

Yada Yada Yada

This year, however, while still thankful for these things, recent events have put a new spin on them, at least in my head.

My 'home' has always been the Midwest. I grew up in a farming community surrounded by men in overalls and feed caps and women who simultaneously baked pies and crocheted tablecloths. These men and women also called the Midwest home. But for many of their parents Cornfield, Illinois was not the first 'home' they knew. In my case, Germany and France and England's Ireland were home. Those people made the decision to leave lands where their families remained, where the language was familiar, to make the difficult crossing by sea, some with infants and small children, to an unknown country with only the promises made on a copper and iron statue.

I do not know if they left because they were under persecution, feared for the lives of their children. I can only assume that they took that frightening voyage after much deliberation in hopes of providing a better life.

They came here, worked hard, settled into and became part of permanent communities and now their descendants call this land home.

Thank you, not only to those who took that brave step, but to those who welcomed them.

These guys are not all that Thankful. In fact, they are rethinking the whole immigration policy.

I work in healthcare. So in a way, I have to feel thankful for everyone's health...or lack thereof. Every day I work, I care for people experiencing health events which I mentally add to the list of things I NEVER want to experience myself.

Thank you?

This motivation to avoid tubes sticking out of natural and man made orifices has led me, most days, to eat better and exercise.

Not today of course.

But tomorrow...

Today my immediate family will be gathering at our house for dinner. We are missing a few very loved members, who thankfully are safe and sound with family elsewhere. But this is not the family I am speaking of today.

Today I am speaking to my work family – you know who you are. If you break it down, some weeks we spend more time with work people than with blood relations. And just like blood relations, work people are fun, annoying, aggravating and wonderful. They can be broken down into little brother, big sister, weird aunt and creepy uncle status.

We have differing opinions and different working styles.

But when things go south we are there for one another. And over the nearly 10 years I have worked with this family things have gone south, really south quite a few times.

And things went south one morning this past week. Like nearly South Pole South. I can't really go into the actual event except to say that at present everyone is okay and this is one of those things that is HIGH on my list of THINGS I NEVER WANT TO HAPPEN TO ME.

And as often happens, it is when things are truly bad that you see the best in people. The outpouring of support for my work family has been overwhelming.

We are all guilty of gripping about work, not wanting to go, not wanting to stay, wishing we were anywhere else.

But damn it.

Now I don't think I could go anywhere else.

Thank you. 

One of my peaceful places. Sure, there are actually four little birds here, but there is also a squirrel. It is really difficult to rhyme anything with 'squirrel' which is why Mr. Marley most likely stuck with the simpler 'three little birds' concept.

I chose to call this post Three Little Birds. It is one of my favorite songs and even though it is a simple concept, it is a powerful one.

From the Coast of Illinois

Have a safe and Happy Thanksgiving. 

Come back next week for a new installment of

TALES FROM THE CARIBBEAN...JAMAICA EDITION

Happy Nurses Week 2015!

It is once again National Nurses Week!
Observation begins on May 6th and ends on Florence Nightingale's birthday, May 12th.


In that spirit, this post is dedicated to all those nurses out there. I have worked with so many amazing people over the years. We are all so different yet so much alike.

This is my wish for you..

May you get 'the GOOD' assignment.

May all your pages be answered promptly.

May all your computers work and when they don't may ALL handwriting be legible.

May your lunch break be uninterrupted. With the hot food-hot and the cold food-cold.

And may you have a chair.

May all your supplies be readily available.

May your narc count be correct.

May your plantar fasciatis mysteriously disappear.

May there be no 'unusual' odors and no 'interesting' fluids.

and no unidentifiable stains on your clothes.

May you have low re-admission rates and high satisfaction scores.

May you get an occasional 'please'.

And even though you say it isn't necessary, may you also get an occasional ThankYou. 

Because even though Nursing has been voted the most ethical profession, we all know we're big liars!

Happy Nurses' Week!

My Mom and me. Mom is not a 'professional' nurse, but I hear a lot of her wisdom spewing from my mouth most days. And, while I don't usually wear a flower at work, wouldn't that be AWESOME!

If you want to read more from some of my previous nursing week posts please click on the It's a Living tab at the top of this page!

This Pretty Much Sums up Today

Was hoping to have a pleasant Valentine's Day. Off work,writing a new blog post, doing a little shopping, working on the novel that has been bugging me all week, cooking a fancy-schmancy dinner... 
But instead...
I am going to work because of a little thing called 'being on call'.
Oh, and it's sleeting...

So here is my thought on today:

and it's 'Modern Art' so there's that culture factor

Underwear for Valentine's Day.
Always Sexy...


*The World's Largest Underpants, along with wonders too numerous to mention, can be found at the City Museum. It is in the City. It is like no other 'museum' in the world. Because there is a school bus hanging off the roof. And an ancient ferris wheel. On the roof. And a 10 story slide...

I Claim This Phrase in the Name of France...or wait, In the Name of PACU*

Faux Friday: The last day of the work week that is not a Friday and is preceded by a Saturday and Sunday with no return to work until Monday. Usually a Wednesday or Thursday. Occasionally may be used to designate the beginning of a non-traditional weekend where said non-traditional weekend is followed by a real Friday. Generally only acceptable in the dead of winter when you go to work in the dark and return home in the dark. Origin: most any 10 or 12 hour shift worker. Uses: 1.gloating as in "Oh, so sorry, today is my Faux Friday." 2. envy as in "I am so sick of you telling me it is your Faux Friday."

See also Thumpday.

Thumpday: the day of the week immediately preceding Faux Friday. Usually a Tuesday or Wednesday making that day fake Thursday or Thumpday. Also: the day you are most likely to thump someone; probably the person who's Faux Friday is only your Thumpday.

I hereby claim the origin and creation of these two phrases. I don't care what UrbanDictionary says. To you UrbanDictionary I say "Crapmonkey!"**

Ps- Guess what day this is posted on...

*PACU - a vicious little fish. Also the acronym for Post Anesthesia Care Unit, where I spend approximately 25 % of my time. Or 30% of my time if you add in commuting. (See Faux Friday).

**Crapmonkey was, in fact, coined by my artist and writer friend Mel Stevens. Although my sister really brought its usage to the forefront.

Beck and Call

I work at a job that requires me to be 'on-call' for a certain number of hours at various times of various days above the usual forty hours a week I regularly work. I have been doing this on-call thing for ten years now. That is not counting two years of on-call that I did about twenty-five years ago. So, I guess, technically I have been working an on-call job for twelve years. (Was that a lot of numbers? Well, get use to it. Number crunching is one of the many on-call past-times. But, we will get to that in a minute.)

For those of you who have never experienced on-call work, let's try a little experiment. Give a total stranger your cell phone number. For the next eight-ten-twelve hours, this person may randomly call you up, and then within one hour taser you. Randomly. No matter what you are doing. It is both exciting – you never know when it will happen, and painful – as you never know when the tasering will stop. Want to up the ante? Then let's make this an 11PM to 7AM gig. On a holiday. In the middle of an ice-storm tornado.

You will be surprised how quickly your spine curls up into your hairline when that phone rings. You will start making bargains with God and the Credit Card people over just how much you really need the extra cash. Of course there is a monetary payout for your pain. Usually time and a half with a two hour guarantee.

Which leads me to the numbers game or:

Thing I Like to Think About While I Am On-Call

1. The Numbers Game: I like to convince myself just how much extra dough I will be making. Time and a half times, oh – ten hours. Looks great. But I don't really want to work that many hours and now I have been on-call for three hours and have not had to go in so lets times it by four. Ugh. Not so great.

(I keep this up until I start subtracting for taxes. By then I have given myself a migraine and am just too depressed to care. Oh, and NOW the phone rings and I have to go to work.)

2. Bargains:  I make a deal with myself that rather than working extra I will just dye my own hair, paint my own toenails, repair the washer, perform my own dental extractions and weave and install new wall to wall carpet. Seems doable.

                          I make a deal with Chase Manhattan Bank that I will, indeed, pay them on time and not use their devil card again.

                          I make a deal with God that if he lets me stay home and not work I will clean the house from top to bottom, bake cookies for my family and perform three miracles that involve ending all wars, pestilence and hate.

3. Avoidance: Now I have worked myself up into such a frenzy that I will do anything to avoid getting caught in the middle of something enjoyable only to have to stop and go to work. It looks something like this – Me. The Couch. The ScyFi Channel or any other network with really bad, free movies. Sometimes it also involves me just staring off into space thinking random thoughts such as:

Things I was scared of as a child – The Iron Curtain, Iron Lungs, The Electric Chair.
Jobs I could do which did not involve call – Diner Waitress, Fashion Designer, Diner Waitress.
Things I am scared of now – The Phone, Bad things happening to my family and friends, Iron Lungs.

4. Memory Games: Remember the first time I was on-call? It was so exciting. I was at the grocery store and had to hurry home with my groceries, leaving them for my husband to unload because I GOT CALLED IN!
   (Uh-uh. Took about one more time for that to lose its novelty and I was looking for ways to 'accidentally' break my pager.)
   
   
   Remember that time I worked an entire Thanksgiving?
   (My on-call buddy's husband brought us their turkey dinner for noon and my husband brought us ours for an evening meal. AND neither of them really complained that we had invited all our families to our respective homes for Thanksgiving only to be called in to work leaving the husbands with their Mother-in-laws and an entire turkey to cook.)
   
   
   Remember what it was like to NOT be on-call?
   (No.)
   Remember pagers?

By now I have either been called in and can relax and just do my job OR my call shift has ended and I can relax and not do my job. And thank Heaven because I really need to see how The Day After Tomorrow ends. Again.

(Before you get on me about complaining that I HAVE a job and one which pays time and a half – I do understand how lucky I am. Plus I get to see some amazingly ridiculous things people do to themselves which require a trip to the hospital after hours. But it never fails. Everyone always plans really fun things to do when I am on-call. And while cell-phones have made it much easier to stay within the one-hour return radius it is no fun to have to leave the party, grocery store, restaurant or beauty salon in the middle of an event. No matter how awesome it is to say, 'Sorry, gotta go. I am on-call.')

Golden

Golden. A word sometimes used to describe that perfect set of circumstances when everything is working at its absolute best. I first noted a 'golden' existence back in my ER days – my co-workers were interesting, fun and each brought a different set of skills to the room so that when we had to kick things into high gear, it worked. For a brief moment in time, we were golden.

I am not talking about those magical moments with friends or family. Those moments are so much more personal and fluid. I am talking about those periods of time outside that world of house and home; those periods of time when all the players are brought together for a purpose.

Like a sports team. Or a club. Or work.

I work within a large and varied department. But, because of the nature of our work, which calls for more than a little reliance on one another, it feels like a family. And just like a family we have our favorites and our differences and our weird Aunts and odd Uncles. Which brings me to last night.

I attended a work function to celebrate a friend. The circumstances which led us to this night of celebration were unthinkable but our friend was there. We were all together, nearly every aspect of our work family represented. One of our eccentric family, the musical cousin if you will, said it best, "We are here to raise you up, brother." I hope that we succeeded. But here's the thing. I feel that in our attempts to cheer and support our friend and co-worker, we ourselves were 'raised up'. We may not always agree, or even get along but at this moment in time we are golden.

And that's whats funny about those golden moments. It seems to me that the more you recognize those times in life that are as close to perfect as they can be, the more of these moments you are given.

And that is the best gift of all. 

You know my feelings on palm trees...

Time Warped

Today I start a new (tentative) work schedule. I say good-bye to twelve hour shifts and switch to ten hour ones. Naturally, I have an entire new life plan for this (tentative) schedule change. Exercising first thing in the morning, eating healthier and writing every morning so I can get the rough draft of this novel finished. Theoretically, I gain four hours of work and get home two hours earlier every day I do work.

Yet, all I can focus on is the fact that ONLY four more work hours a week equals ONE less day off?

I hate math.

Welcome to Your New Home

Of the past 72 hours, I have spent nearly 30 at work. (This includes travel time because...well, because.) This is just a few hours short of half of three days. (Which happens to be the entire weekend. Not that I'm bitter.) This does not leave a whole lot of time for eating, sleeping, relaxing or bathing. It does leave enough time for me to figure the ratio of work to not work and where I could have driven and or flown in the amount of time I have spent on both. (Colorado, Most of the Gulf Coast, My villa in Tuscany/Paris/Mediterranean.) ((Not push me here, I am really sleepy.))

Clearly I should have been more specific when I said I wanted a second home.

Oh Sure, Great View but I really prefer the back of my eyelids.