R(etired)N

I don't often get into political discussions with the American side of our family....since our rellies lean both ways...and it can get a little bit complicated and personal.  

Speaking of "getting personal"....I am getting tired of the barrage of ads that are on the TV on every single American channel (yes, we get to see them all here too!) ....every single commercial break.    How much worse could the smack-talk get?

Apparently, a lot worse.  

If you haven't already seen this.....here you go.  I am thinking they were a lot more vicious and personal with their attacks back in the 1800s.  Ouch!




Happy Elections. You get what you Vote for.

My husband's father was a Marine.  He passed away a couple years ago and was buried with a military guard.  When we were visiting his mom this last time - I took some photos of some of his medals for my husband.  This is one of the many..... the Purple Heart.

He was very quiet about his experience over in Korea, but apparently there was a lot of action seen.....and it was horrific enough that he refused to talk about it much. 

I can't imagine.

At one point, he wasn't sure that he and his company would get out alive.

Which brings me back to tattoos again.



Here is a man that actually tattoos Marines that go overseas.   "Modern Day Samurai"......that's what he calls them.

Yesterday in Kelowna B.C. there was a Memorial Service for an amazing person.  Her life achievements are something to aspire to.

Before being elected to provincial office, Sindi Hawkins was an R.N. practicing in the areas of general duty, intensive care, management, education and consulting nursing.  She held a post-graduate certificate in neuroscience nursing from the Montreal Neurological Hospital. She was recognized as one of the first nurses in Canada to be certified in neuroscience nursing by the Canadian Nurses Association. She spent 12 years treating cancer patients before studying and pursuing a law career.

 After earning a law degree from the University of Calgary, Sindi set up her own company as a lawyer with an interest in medical-legal issues.

She then turned her interest toward politics.

First elected in British Columbia in 1996 she was again successful in both 2001 and 2005.    A popular politician, she served as Minister of Health Planning and as Minister of State for Intergovernmental Relations. As Minister of Health Planning, she was responsible for a long-term strategy to train more doctors and nurses in British Columbia.   As a result of this planning, B.C. has added medical school campuses at the University of Northern BC in Prince George, the University of Victoria and at UBC Okanagan in Kelowna.

Sindi was diagnosed with leukemia in 2004.

 She found, as a minority, that she only had a 30% chance of a match for a donor as compared to the general population at 70%.  Sindi wanted to increase those odds. In 2007, she brought Lance Armstrong to B.C. to raise awareness for the BC Cancer Society.

As co-chair of the BC Cancer Foundation’s Tour of Courage in 2007 and with a new endowment fund, she has helped raise nearly $3 million for the BC Cancer Foundation.

Her annual Sindi Hawkins and Friends Charity Golf Classic has raised $1million and funded a new hospice in Kelowna and an outreach programme that has taken leukemia care closer to home for patients across British Columbia.

Last month Sindi passed away 6 days after her 52nd birthday.

 The announcement was made several hours before her death that the Cancer Agency in her home riding of Kelowna North would be renamed after her - Sindi Ahluwalia Hawkins.

She was definitely an inspiration, an advocate a role model and a great community leader.

In 16 years I will be this lady's age!!! What the heck? She is calling herself OLD????? ( I am not liking the old-lady hairdo or the old-lady dress and old-lady glasses..... there are ways to look current without over doing it!!! She looks like the "church lady".....)

My idea of OLD is more like this woman.....can you imagine?  Eighty-nine years old and successfully running for Mayor of the 3rd largest city in Ontario, Canada.....for the 12th term since 1979 and her 33rd year in a row typically with 90% of the vote (76% this time despite a 'land scandal situation').

Hazel McCallion or "Hurricane Hazel" certainly is someone to be admired.  She has been named to the Order of Canada and voted the second-best mayor on the planet, and has a charitable organization called  "Hazel's Hope" that she travelled to Tanzania for in 2006 - funding healthcare for children afflicted with AIDS and HIV.

She still lives in her two-storey brick house which was her home with her husband Sam until his death in 1997 from pnuemonia while suffering from Alzheimers.  She says that her work at City Hall kept her going.   She is the longest serving mayor in Canada and has kept the city debt-free since her first term of office.  

Not only does she live alone with her dog "Hurricane" and keep active but "she still keeps a pair of skates and a hockey stick in the trunk of her car in case she comes across a pick-up game.  Hazel McCallion, [was] a former professional women's hockey player in Montreal in the 1930s".

I would be happy just to reach her age....never mind in her condition!  Rick Mercer reports:





Yep. And when I am old.....I shall wear purple.

I used to live right downtown in the heart of Vancouver - the West End actually.  Right in  the heart of the Gay district - two blocks from English Bay... Sunset Beach.

 I lived in a 100 year old building with floors so sloped -  that if you put a marble on the old hardwood floor in the living room - you could watch it travel  past the kitchen and into the bathroom.

 I was allowed to paint the apartment as I wished.  There was no regulating the radiator heat - and sometimes we had to open the windows to cool the place off,  or turn on the gas stove and open the oven door to warm the place up.   Members of the "Swollen Members" Band lived across the street from me, and when I vacated my apartment,  a band member of Bif Naked (saw her in a Lilith Fair Concert with Sarah McLachlan )moved in.


I put an ad on the bulletin board at the local Internet cafe and thus got myself a really nice roommate - a young gal from Australia - she happened to be a psychologist, but couldn't practice in Canada...and ended up working instead as a tour guide on the gondolas up Grouse Mountain.

 I loved the movement of kids in and out of the apartment - there was a never ending assortment of interesting people...Kiwis, displaced Montrealers.....you name it.  My roomie would bring them home.  I worked nights at that point and since I slept like a rock during the day and was never home at night...it was a great arrangement.

Living downtown Vancouver was just a different atmosphere than any I have known.  It feels less like a city and more like a small village.  You can sit outside at any number of local coffee shops and restaurants year round.  The weather is that moderate.   People are friendly.  They smile and say "hi" as they go by.  You often see the same people over and over again.

 Even the street people were like family.  People living downtown would make sure the local street people were taken care of.   One of the  "givens" was that you would save your refundable bottles and put them out once a week for the local street people so they could come by with their carts and collect them and turn them in for cash.

I remember one young aboriginal guy that could be found on the same street corner every morning as I walked home.  He always had a cheery "Good morning" and a big smile as I would pass by.  Very friendly. Happy-go-lucky type.  Once in a while I would stop and talk.

 He never asked for money, but if it was something you wanted to do, he was open to offers. Always said "Thank-you! Have a nice day!" whether you gave or not. I never gave money - it's just my policy - but always food or items he might need.   Curious, I asked him how much he could collect in a day. 

"Oh - some days it's better than others.   I sometimes am lucky and can get $50 by noon.  If that happens I run to the store and buy myself a nice big steak to eat."  Life, to him, was pretty simple.

One morning, when passing by his usual spot on my way home from work,  I could see he was in rough shape.  He looked like crap. I stopped and asked if he was OK.   "My friends beat me up - we got into it" .   He had a deep gash on his elbow and  bruises to his face. Ripped clothes.  By the odor still wafting about him, I assumed perhaps they got into a fight while intoxicated.

"Can't you go to the clinic and get that looked after?" We were standing 10 feet from a Walk in clinic.   "There's also an emergency just around the corner" pointing in the direction of the hospital I was just leaving.

"No - I don't want to go to Emergency.....and the Clinic already told me they wouldn't take me."

I was thinking they probably would, more than likely he just felt uncomfortable going to either place.   I couldn't imagine that the clinic would refuse him.  First Nations are a part of the federally funded health care  - and definitely, he would be covered.  I could understand, though, why he would be reluctant to show up at either place looking like he did.  Gary** was usually fairly meticulous about his clothes.

I went into the drugstore next to the Walk In Clinic and bought some first aid supplies.  I showed him how he should clean the wound and how to put the bandages on.   I helped him apply the steristrips and  and then handed him the bag of supplies.   He promised me that he would take care of it every day.   "Don't let me catch you with an infected elbow" I warned him.

Then,  he just - disappeared.   I watched for him every day.   Then, as suddenly as he disappeared - a year later - he showed up in the same spot on his street corner just as if he had never left. 

"Gary! I missed you! Where did you go?? I was worried - where were you all this time?!"

"Oh...well....I had to go up to Bella Coola for a court appearance and they put me in lockup for a year."

"Geez, Gary.....stay out of trouble will ya?"

He smiled his usual big smile.  " I sure will. Thanks! Have a nice day!"

Quite the contrast from the MD that I worked with that was also First Nations.  Articulate and talented, not only was this MD was just finishing his Family Practice Specialty......but he was also a well known actor.   He was telling me that patients would recognise him all the time...which could be a little bit difficult at times.  He was on the shy side and quite reserved. 


My husband is part Native American - Apache/Comanche - and part Hispanic.  If anyone understands the struggles facing the Indigenous of America - he does.   Having struggled growing up in poverty and then facing prejudice throughout his life,  my husband is my hero.  Not only has he overcome the tribulations of his former life, but he has in fact achieved more than what he ever dreamed of.... surpassed it.

There was a feature on a TV program here in Canada of this young lady.....First Nations and a foster child for the first part of her childhood until a family took her in at age 6.  She has now graduated from Lakehead University -a first Nations University - and has her Bachelor of Education degree/Royal Conservatory Teacher Certification and presently teaches music and Ojibaway between gigs.

I often wonder at the paths people choose to get them to their particular destination in life. Or is it entirely their choice.....?





**Gary: not his real name

At a work function put on by our employer,  we had the chance to win some prizes.  There was "swag" with work logos   - the usual insulated travel cups, laptop bags, reusable shopping bags, key rings. There were foodies (very good! - catered by a local company) and desserts (deluxe cookies, caramel apples)  There were several gift cards for Starbucks for $50.   The first prize was $100 gift card for a Nice Local Restaurant Chain.


Anyway.  My number got drawn for the $100 gift card.  What to do?   I didn't really need it.  The closest restaurant was an hours' drive away.  Why not "regift"?

I gave the card to one of the gals I work with for a fund raiser.  Every Christmas she asks for donations of pajamas for needy kids at a local shelter ..... so I thought....what better use for this gift card?   She is going to have a raffle at work and someone is going to get a nice $100 dinner ....and there will be money to buy more jammies as the only brand-new gift of the year for those kids

.
The following week I had to go to the MD for an appointment.  The cortisone shot was usually covered by my MD visit, but this time, because my MD is in a new clinic - the policy is to charge $10 for the injection - I suppose to cover the cost of the cortisone/needle. 

They would only take cash.

 I had no cash on me, so I went to the bank machine in the same plaza.  A scruffy looking guy was in front of me - obviously a guy fresh off work - still dressed in his construction clothing.   I smiled at him as he took off with his cash and bank slip.  Poor guy looked tired. Probably had a rough day at work.

I was next up.

I tried to put my bank card in .....and nothing happened.  I punched in my request and up popped the screen.  Funny, I thought.  It usually asks for my PIN.   Out spat the $100 -  a little more than what I needed but - oh well.   I looked at my slip at the "remaining funds".

Way less than what should be in the account.

I pulled out my card.  I punched the "End Transaction" button.  Out pops another card.  Looking closely at the details on the slip I realized I had withdrawn $100 from someone else's account.  I thought of that tired looking construction guy.


I took the money and card and ran out the door - looking up and down for that guy that was in front of me.    Nowhere.  Gone.   Nothing to do but talk to the teller.  Explain to her what happened. Give her the $100 and the card.   She thanked me for "being honest" and told me that the person who belonged to the account is going to be very grateful - and would I like to leave my name and phone number so they could thank me?

 Uh - no thanks. Not necessary.

I would hope that anyone would return money that doesn't belong to them.  Why would that need thanks - doing what anybody should do?  Besides, as my husband reminded me later....they DO have cameras at each bank machine, and they could trace me down had I chosen not to return the money. 
 It was exciting getting that in the mail and I looked forward to that every year!  The things you could buy with a dollar back then!  One dollar meant the world to a little girl with next to nothing, whose only cash was from the occasional pop bottle fished out of the garbage in the campground - refunded at one cent apiece.  I couldn't even dream of one hundred of these....!


There are still people out there to whom $100 means the difference between a meal and going hungry.

I was just perusing the news and came across this article.  There is a blog written by an eccentric MD in Oregon..... she has decided to give $100 away every day this month in memory of her mother.   In giving something away,  in the end, she gets way more in return.

 
She calls it her "Blog of Hundreds".  Each day she gives some random person $100,  and each day she tells the story of what transpires.   If you have a moment, go and read her blog.  The stories are very inspirational, and you might even find a couple of them will put a tear in your eye.....

The leaves on our fence create the most spectacular array of colors. 

You can see some of the dark ivy mixed in with the lime green leaves.....and the blood red virginia creeper spilling over the top......

This is what I see from the Hottub when I take a little soak in the afternoon.

It is especially gorgeous when the sun shines through the fence and the table and chairs......

As you can see, we have a few tomatoes at different stages of ripening  - on our little table.

Then,  when dusk comes....the lights come on on the fence.
We have them on the fence year round.




This is what our fence looks like at dusk:

I am so glad that when I had surgery last year,  I didn't have to have one of these put on me.   But I guess I wasn't about to lick my wounds "clean" or mess with them in any way......

HOWEVER.

It's amazing what people will do with their wounds - including scrubbing the incision with a rough facecloth, applying outdated polysporin they fished out of their "medicine drawer" that they had used previously on a dirty wound from ages past (applying with their fingers!), picking off their steri-strips the day after, taking a bath the same day, applying hydrogen peroxide or Mercurochrome or iodine to their  incisions.........

People! Don't do it!!! Leave it alone!  And just because you see a teeny spot of blood on a dressing doesn't mean you need to rip it all off!! A tiny bit of blood does not equal "dirty"....

Watch, of course, for increased swelling, pain, warmth, red streaks leading away from a wound, fever, drainage of pus, excessive bleeding (and ask what is excessive if you don't know!) or a wound that is gaping or extending.  ASK about when you need to change the dressing, if at all and make sure you get a print-out of instructions upon release from the hospital or MD office......and clarify anything you don't understand before you leave.

And, please - if your wound HURTS increasingly so - rather than taking  handfuls of ibuprofen or Tylenol -  there is a REASON for the pain....please go back to your healthcare provider for an assessment (don't wait until you have left yourself no choice but emergency care ).    Excessive amounts of these drugs can harm your liver /kidneys/stomach and overdosing (intentionally and unintentionally)  on these OTCs are the number one cause of hepatic (liver)  disease/failure in the USA.  Especially if you are liberal with your alcohol consumption or have Hep C and the like.

Please. If you are taking medications - read the instructions.  You would not believe how many people think that MORE is better.  It isn't.

There. That's my public service announcement for the day.

Well said.

Remember my girlfriend Jan?  The one that has a son with all the tattoos she hates so much (the tattoos - not her son!)?

She tells me he is now on his way to be in a fast track program to become an RN.  I am thrilled.  Although by looking at him you wouldn't know he would be the *type*.  Shame on me for stereotyping .... 

BUT.

He looks more like a bouncer -  or a prisoner.  No Mr. Innocent-looking here.   What with all his working out and tattoos.....as a muscle bound-tattoo-covered alternate-gendered nurse - he is guaranteed to be a head turner for sure.

I can't wait for him to dive into all the nursing curriculum and see what sort of take he has on it all.  Can't wait for all the questions he might have.

I will have to point him in the direction of a couple of blogs to read... NurseXY and Nurse J...and Tex.  I am sure he will find their observations and opinions helpful.

My girlfriend Jan is just hoping he meets a nice girl in the process and produces some grand-babies.

When I lived in California, I would often visit my girlfriend and her little family in Redding. She had 3 little boys. They were so fun....and musically talented. I always had such a fun time around them. It amazed me how they would write their own music at such a young age - putting on performances for neighbors.

Flash forward 20 years later - One of my girlfriend's sons  formed a band  - the Myriad - that would win first place in the MTV2 Dew Circuit Breakout Contest in December 2007. They went on tour and were well on their way down the road of success. Great bunch of kids and lots of fun.  Here is their performance in New York at the Times Square location :



Sometimes, our best laid plans are not the road we are destined to travel.

Their momentum was interrupted by the illness of their drummer, diagnosed with a rare and aggressive form of cancer - Mesenchymal Chondrosarcoma.   He was initially denied access to treatment at the hospital where they treat such rare cancers because he did not have the insurance he needed nor the money to cover it.   More than likely, because of the nature of the cancer, it may not have made a difference as to how fast it was expedited -  but still.....

As a Canadian, I just don't understand refusal of treatment for any illness. Here is the heartbreaking plea for support that they had posted:



After his treatment, he still was able to go on a cross country tour representing The Humane Society...the "All Creatures Tour" with the Myriad.   You can see him post chemo treatment in this clip advertising the Tour:



I just heard from my girlfriend that, sadly, he now only has days to live. I hate to think of Randy's sweet children and wife...without him.  My heart goes out to Randy and his little family....

... and I think of them as I listen to my favorite song Myriad had recorded three years ago....and wish for the angels they sang of - to continue walking by their side and wrapping their arms around them....

THE MYRIAD
A THOUSAND WINTERS MELTING LYRICS


 The streets are filled with angels walking by my side
and every time I listen close I hear their footsteps quickly run and hide.

It's all a bit confusing...impossible at best!
But when I walk alone at night I feel their holy presence lift my head. 

Love, Love, a Thousand Winters Melting
Love, yes Love, as you wrap your arms around me

They wait for us to listen to the voices we can't see
They wait till all the lights go down and finally we hear that melody

Love, Love, a Thousand Winters Melting
Love, yes Love, as you wrap your arms around me
There's a thousand ways you love me
and a thousand times you've shown me
and if ever I felt love
I found you

I don't really know why I became an RN....but I can see how my Grandmother came about making her decision. 




Delftshaven 1902 photo, the The Pilgrim Father's church to the left behind the tree and the famous drawbridge in front, almost exact same place as photo above.

  Boats meandered down the canals and many were used as homes for entire families.  Grandma's family owned a small store that would furnish the locals and the visiting sea vessels with vegetables, sugar, salt, bread, oranges, lemonade and beer.  It was a general store so you could also find coal, rain gear, tobacco and "Klompen". They also operated a delivery service that would sell coal and potatoes from Grandma's maternal Grandparent's farm. 

I would have thought from Grandma's reaction at the dentist's, that she would have turned away from anything medical.   I know as a young girl she was as much afraid as myself of a needle.    A toothache had her mother dragging her to an appointment with the local dentist.  As my Grandmother told it - as they stood outside the Dentist's office, ringing the bell - Grandma broke free and ran across the canal drawbridge (pictured above) as it was lifting - leaving her flustered mother to explain to the dentist that there was no longer a patient for him.

Students in Holland with a primitive "calculator"

Grandma was a good student in school.  She went Monday to Saturday from 9 am to 4:30 pm with only one hour break for lunch - as it was in those days.   For her scholastic achievements she was awarded a prize of a sewing box (still in the family) with a letter of recognition from the principal.  She graduated at Grade 6 or, age 12.

At this age most children were sent to schools for further practical education where they would learn a trade.  It was customary, though, for most girls to stop any schooling altogether, especially those from poor families.   These girls would work as live-in house maids or work in the family business.

My grandmother's older sister became homesick when sent to a house as a governess and was sent home.  The Mevrouw (Missus of the house) asked if my Grandmother would take her place?  It was agreed that she would work for this family. Grandma was only 12 at the time.  She was not permitted to leave for family birthdays or celebrations.    She was only allowed to go home on a Sunday once every four weeks - to return to her place of employ by 10 pm that same night.   At noon she would walk all the way home, which took at least 3 hours to walk the 2 1/2 miles.   Sometimes she was only home for an hour before she had to leave to go back to her place of employ.    She only stayed for one year.


"Huishoud" School early1900s

 After this year, at age 14,  Grandma attended a "Huishoud school" or a house keeping school and lived away from home.  She was taught the basics in cooking, housekeeping and any other skills that it was expected a young woman needed to know back then.   She was isolated from any of the news back at home. One time, while visiting her family,  she was told of a young neighbor, only 10 years of age that died very quickly of cancer.  My grandmother cried.  She had known this girl very well.

Graduated from the Huishoud school, she went to work in the homes of friends as governess for children and caring for sick people.   Many of her clients and patients sent messages upon their recovery and kept in touch through the years....and you can tell by these postcards (our family still has them) that there was much appreciation for the care Grandma gave to them.  She was 16 at the time.

At age 18 or 19 (1913 ) Grandma was asked by her mother to work as a clerk in their store.  It was during that time Grandma realized that this was definitely not her calling.   She had had a taste of what it was to care for people who were ill, and now she turned her ambitions to nursing.


Nursing class outside Bloemendaal Hospital, Loosduinen

At age 23 my Grandmother started her four years nurses' training at  "Bloemendaal" Hospital in Loosduinen on the coast, south of the Hague.... 1918 to 1922.  Her diploma says she graduated on June 9th 1922 - Registered Nurse No. 1429.



Ambulance from my Grandma's era

When she graduated, Grandma went to work at a Jewish Hospital in Amsterdam. She loved her new job where she worked from 1922 to 1926.    She had lots of fun with the other staff and doctors.....singing in the choir, going to the beach close by -  and in the winter - skating on the canal.  She doted on her patients and they often sent her cards and letters which my aunt still has....

" To Nurse D.  Greetings to all your colleagues who served with thankfulness; shall remember the devotion of the nurses, even though the time in Loosduinen set me back" 1922

"To Sister D at the Jewish Hospital Amsterdam "Beste D, As you can see, I'm in Durban.  End of May I'll be in Amstdm but first Antwerm, Rotterdm and Hamburg. Willy" July 10, 1925



Grandpa in the Dutch Army circa1918

 The head Nurse from Bloemendaal Hospital kept in touch with my Grandmother.   She invited my Grandmother to her house to help celebrate her 25th wedding anniversary and have her sing a song, accompanied by a gentleman on the organ.  Both having wonderful voices, they ended up singing a duet.
This gentleman was my Grandfather.  

Within 6 weeks they were engaged.  For many of those days in their courtship, Grampa would wait for Grandma's shift to end, waiting on the steps of the nurses quarters.   It was shortly after that my Grandfather moved to Canada.  They would be apart for  two years before my Grandmother could follow him to Canada. 


One of her poems in a letter to him** that she obviously wrote during one of her night shifts (if this were today - she would have been furiously emailing!):

 If we could get gas for our car out of our taps for "free" (or at least already paid for since our water is metered) but we elect to pay per liter for it by the bottle instead....and spend 500 times the actual cost for it........how stupid would we be?

Why is it that we do this with water?

Would you give your child a glass of  water to drink knowing it will make them sick, but if they don't drink it - they will die anyway?

38,000 children die every week because they don't have enough clean water to drink or hygenic living conditions.

We can do something about it.

Can't remember where I found this. 

I thought this was a great way to illustrate the Social networks out there and link them to the various behaviors....

I do Facebook and that's about it. Looking at the chart.....I think I am more of a "stalker" than anything....

I like to keep track of my many nieces and nephews without them having to go to the "bother" of contacting me specifically with updates.  It's a great way to keep on top of events and milestones.

It has also proven to be a great way for my cousins and sundry to keep in touch since we live in all four corners of this continent.


I just don't understand the need to twitter.  I guess that is my age showing.  But really, on Facebook, I do get annoyed when every. last. little. move. is. recorded.    I don't want to know ABSOLUTELY EVERYTHING.

If you were to stumble upon my Facebook page (highly unlikely due to my security level settings) you wouldn't know that I was an RN.....as there is absolutely nothing on it that indicates that in any way. 

I keep my work very seperate from my social life, and except for the occasional phonecall from rellies that want to know what such-and-such a symptom means....... I keep a low profile.

Oh.  Except for the occasional comment on how *nice* someone's veins are.......

Some nurses thrive in agency nurse assignments.  I usually didn't mind them. 

I was ok with it for approximately 2 years, but after working at several hospitals across the border, I threw in the towel and chose the one hospital that I really wanted to work at - and left the agency.

I wasn't allowed (by signed contract) to work for any hospital I had been contracted to work for at least 6 months so I waited the obligatory months - then applied at my favorite hospital.

What did I like about that particular hospital?  It offered women a little more freedom in labor and also the choice of midwives. The OBs were quite good and a little more relaxed than the other hospitals I worked at. "Epidural rules" were a little less stringent.  They didn't rush to the OR. The group of nurses I worked with were wonderful.

This wasn't the case with all the hospitals.

 There was one teaching hospital amongst my assignments that I found way too restrictive to the moms during labor. You would never see the mom's roaming the halls while laboring.   They had medical students and residents galore and it seemed to me that the patient hardly saw the actual OBs during their stay - which would have been ok if the decisions made about the patients were actually discussed with the patient and the nurse.   In fact, most of the time - from what I observed - in the OR - the OB didn't even scrub in - the one I saw just threw on a gown over top what he was wearing and yelled orders from the door holding a mask over his face.

Here is what I experienced:

I was part way through my orientation with an RN/Midwife (licensed from another state so not a practising midwife) and the woman was laboring in the tub with the waterproof fetal monitoring system.   The strip looked excellent. Mom was working hard.  Progressing.  Doing well. Coping well.  The strip was reassuring.... a couple of dips but nothing alarming.  Then - all of a sudden - a resident struts in - looks at the strip - then walks out.  Didn't say a thing to us. The next thing I knew, a STAT C/S was ordered.....

I looked at the other nurse I was orientating with in disbelief.  I could see she was puzzled.  I asked why -   but any discussion was overruled by the countless flow of people in and out -  the decision was made - and the poor mother was coerced into signing the consents with horrible scenarios as to what could happen to her baby - and she was whisked away to the OR on the unit and subjected to a c/s.

At the nurses' station I looked at the strip.  I swear - not ONE thing on that strip that warranted a C/S never mind a STAT C/S.  I showed the strip to another nurse I had met there - one from the same province as myself - one that I later would end up working with back in BC.......and told her - "Take a look at this strip. Do you see anything on here c/section worthy???"

She looked it over.....and shook her head.  "They sectioned her? What reason did they give?"

Me: "Fetal Distress"

She:  "Well - if they think that strip shows fetal distress - there are going to be a lot of sectioned women here"

Me: "I know.  Sad.  Know what?   If this is the way they operate....I don't think I can work here."

"Ya" she agreed. " I have another month and I am done too"

That same day I phoned up the Agency.  They tried to tell me that I had signed an agreement to work at that particular hospital for 3 months.   I told them I didn't care what was agreed to or signed.  I wasn't working anywhere where they would have me taking care of women that needless surgery was being performed on without proper discussion and explanation and reason.  It was a matter of principle.

I quit.

I just couldn't do it.  After working in a province that allowed so much freedom to the woman in labor, I just couldn't go back to the restrictive environment in that place.

So I am not the only one.....Catalogue Living also thinks antlers are blogworthy....  I love that website! I know I have mentioned them before....but their commentary just makes me laugh.

We have a little visitor in our yard.  This dove seems tame - you can walk right up to it.  He doesn't even seem to mind the cat in the yard.  Not sure what he is up to, but he has been in our yard for a couple days now.  
Perhaps he likes the grapes we have growing on the fence.  Perhaps he's a little drunk.  



I like to think that he is just being friendly!

Emergency Room Blues has a video up on her blog - go and watch it...and participate.

I have had this blog entry sitting on my list-to-publish since mid August  - and was *just * thinking about going back to it again blogifying it.....when ERB posts her link.   So....a little earlier than October 15th - here is my blog post on water.   It's amazing that something as simple as this straw can save lives.

It's a good cause.  :)   We are luckier than we think we are........it really could be worse.  And the water from my tap is the best in the world.  My sister from the Philedelphia area told me so - when she was here this summer.

And this is what I am thankful for this Beautiful Canadian Thanksgiving Day Weekend......Water.  Clean, fresh, sparkling ..... water.

Thank you all for your submissions!   By far, the most suggested name was Jo at "Head Nurse". ( Click on the book in the column to the right to read about the book)

So, Jo will be sent this book.  At first I had to ask her,  just in case.   I know she is newly diagnosed with cancer and not sure of how she would react to a book on the same topic....but she replied:  "Yes, I'd love to have that book. I love it even more that people thought of me.Thank them for me, will you?"

"I'm so freaking touched by everybody's love; I'm looking for a way to give it back"

Well, Jo, to tell you the truth,  I think you have given so much and more with your blog.   I really don't think you need to look for "a way to give back", unless you so choose to do even more.   You have given insight into the world of nursing for very many years, exposed your vulnerabilities and your foibles and imperfections, didn't hold back on your emotions - even when it means serious venting... and have been the inspiration for very many nurse bloggers.   You have been the shining example for newbie nurses,  an advocate for the patients/ the vulnerable out there who need it......I am thinking that you have already done more than simply "give it back".

So, thanks Jo....and here's to many more years of blogging! We all wish you Health and send out those Positive Vibes !   And more than that, we wish you Healing....and not just for the selfish reason of reading your blog for years to come....but simply because ... the world of nursing is a better place with you in it.  And that's not just ego-stroking! :)  It's the truth.

Enjoy your book! :)

Does this ever take me back.

One of the songs I sang on the beach...with my guitar....feet dug into the sand....breeze through my long blonde hair - parted in the middle as we did in those days.....psychadelic printed shirt.......boyfriend at the time driving up from Oregon in his little VW beetle........."the smell of maple leaves in fall"....

the Leaves outside our house