R(etired)N

Well, you all know that I have blogged about previous trips to the hospital plus chest pain....



Chest pain.

I had experienced chest pain at bedtime but decided it was stress induced so took a propanolol and ibuprofen,  watched a movie with my husband and then went to bed.

2 am.

Sharp squeezing pain in the area of the Left chest woke me up.  I tried to sleep but the discomfort kept sleep from me.   After an hour trying to get comfortable,  I slipped downstairs, and wriggled around in the easy chair - mulling over what to do next.  

It wasn't typical chest pain that you hear patients talk about when they are describing cardiac MI type pain.  No shortness of breath. No cold perspiration or nausea. No epigastric or back pain.  I did have pain that went down the left arm, though. 

Having a history of shoulder injury with arm pain, I could be forgiven for thinking perhaps it came from sleeping awkwardly on that arm.  

And then there was the neck pain that went up to my jaw.  Hmm.  I palpated my neck thinking that perhaps I had done something to that also.

Denial, denial, denial.  

Finally at 6 am my husband comes downstairs.  Told him he should probably take me to Emergency this am.  I must have sounded really calm and nonchalant because the next thing I knew,  he was going out the door to sit in the hot tub for a while.

Ok.

So, I get dressed, put on makeup, make the bed and am ready to go just as my husband gets out of the hot tub.

At this point I was thinking to myself...."If this were one of my patients, I would be giving them supreme hell at this point for not calling an ambulance...."   I couldn't blame my husband for the lack of action.  I didn't give him any indication that this might be an emergency.  What would he know about chest pain?

He drives me to the hospital and lets me off at the door.



I sat in the chair, obediently waiting.  Deja vu. 

Serves me right for wandering in at shift change.  I should know better.

Finally, 10 minutes later, the clerk crooks her finger at me. I sit down on the chair outside her mouse hole opening in the bullet proof glass and  I pass her my information, my care card and my drivers license and tell her I am having chest pain.   She's unimpressed.


I walk over to the chairs and sit down.   I am the only one - except for a cop sitting with a young man - in the entire waiting area.  A security guy ambles past.  I'm wondering if he knows CPR.

Five minutes later the Triage nurse calls me over, takes my blood pressure, pulse,temperature and asks a few questions about my chest pain.  She's unimpressed.  

I guess I don't look like I am in pain, and not wanting to overdo it I tell her I am 6/10.....(here I am thinking it would definitely be a lot worse pain if my leg were hanging half off)  She then tells me to move over 2 cubicle spaces and give more information to a second clerk and get my ID/Allergy bracelets. 

The clerk insists on putting my girlfriend down as contact person (her name was still in the system from my gall bladder incident a couple years ago) - which, at this point, I can see would probably be a smarter choice, however, my husband would probably object.  I tell her my husband would expect to be listed as my primary contact.  She says - so I will put your friend down as first contact - to which I reply - no, you had better put my husband as contact person.

At this point I am wondering if I am speaking in an unintelligible language.... because no one seems to be hearing me.

Having sorted out who would be making my end-of-life choices for me, the nurse tells me to go through the double doors.    There are two sets - one to the left and one to the right.  She doesn't indicate which one, and since she has already departed and no one is at the windows - I enter through the set that swings open and stand there waiting for her.

And wait.

And wait. 

There are a couple of gals talking and joking by the desk - ignoring me - and I am thinking at this point I must be invisible.   If I knew what bay I would be put in, I could probably walk there myself.

 I am re-thinking my decision to come to this Emerg...after the last visit here,  I swore I would have my husband drive me all the way to Running Wildly's place of employ, especially since she had saved my friend just the day before when she arrested in her ED.

Along comes the Triage nurse - around the corner.  "Where did you go????" - she gives me heck as if I were a little kid sneaking around where I am not supposed to be.  

One of the other gals laughs and goes "Oops - I guess I opened up the wrong set of doors"......

I follow the nurse to what turns out to be the furthest bay in the Emergency Department.  As we are walking along, she hands me 4 tiny pills.  "Chew these".   I know what they are without her saying. ASA.

She waves me in the direction of Bay Number Nine.  "Go on in there - someone will be with you shortly".

I sit down.  Again.  

And wait.

I am realizing that five minutes is a long time to wait when you don't know what's going to happen to you.  I think back to my many patients that had to wait....

The RN assigned to me approaches - a Filipina gal, very serious.     "Here"  is all she says as she passes me a gown -  and leaves me to it.  My brain is telling me it's all good,  while my panic mode is struggling with what's going on.  She closes the drapes behind her, and shuffles through my paperwork at the desk.

I change into the gown and sit down on the bed.   The RN returns to take my blood pressure and applies the heart monitor electrode patches to my chest.  No sooner does she have me decked out with stickers, but a ECG Tech comes and does a 12 lead ECG on me.

I laid back on the bed and the Tech jokes about my allergy to latex, clearly marked on my armband: " You are allergic to lattes hmmm?"     I smile at her attempt at a joke but, lost in the distraction of the moment, I don't quite get it right away.  Confused,  I check my allergy band to see what is actually printed on there. 

I am hoping they don't think I am disoriented as well.

It's been 3/4 hr since I walked through the door.  The ER doc comes in and I recognize him as the doc that misdiagnosed me with pancreatitis on my last visit a couple years ago. He auscultates my chest and heart.  Asks a few questions.  Asks about my chest pain.... orders blood work.   I suggest that if he wanted to order cholesterol and lipids that I haven't eaten or drank anything in more than 10 hours.

The RN comes back in and decides she should probably put on a little oxygen. 

In all my years of nursing, I have never had a nasal cannula sticking in my nostrils and decide that plastic prongs in the nose really aren't very comfortable.  Small thing though, in the big picture. 

My RN pulls a roll of tape out of the drawer.... "You can't use this, right?" she comments - and walks away - I guess not really caring whether I  answered her or not. 

Bringing back a roll of paper tape, and without explanation or comment - not that I need one -  she places a saline lock with a #20 cathlon in my hand. 

No gloves.

Blood leaks all over.  She asks another passing nurse to help her pull the cap off the line...ignoring my offer to help.   With the lock in place, she secures it in situ with an opsite square and applies a couple strips of tape.  She doesn't seem too upset that she has my blood all over her hands as well.

Before I realize what I am saying, I am apologizing for the blood.....

The lab comes in and draws a few tubes.  I make a comment that it probably would have been easier to pull them with the IV insert, as I have always been used to doing.   Smiling, the lab gal agrees.  In most hospitals in this province, it's the lab only that does the draws.

I spot the nitrospray in the RN's hand and I know what's coming.  She doesn't ask me to open my mouth, but I know what to do automatically.  Without explanation, she sprays a shot under my tongue.

Ten minutes later, another shot of nitrospray - only she misses and hits my cheek.  Next shot hits my chin.  Third time hits my upper lip and the top of my mouth.  Fourth shot misfires.  Fifth time lucky.  At this point, I am not sure how much of the nitrospray I actually got.   She walks away unapologetic.

Ten minutes later a young man -  whom I will assume is the porter -  comes in and wheels me out to the xray department for a couple of chest photos - standing - despite my light-headedness from the nitrospray.   It's a quick trip and I am returned to my cubicle.

The internist arrives.  She checks me out and asks more questions.   Tells me all the blood tests are normal and I should see my MD and states that they aren't sure what's going on,  and that perhaps - she guesses - my cardiac "arteries are spasming" and I might benefit from adalat to stop it.  

She suggests that I make an appointment with my own MD and that I get him to give me an RX.  She asks if I would want to do a stress test before I leave.  I say sure, why not.  She disappears to make arrangements.

The RN comes back and while she is adjusting the BP cuff, I ask her name, trying to work the social etiquette.   "Oh...it's a difficult one" she replies and mumbles it incoherently.  "Pardon?" I ask and she repeats it - the same mumbling.   "It's a name you people have difficulty with" she says, shrugging. 

I am thinking that if it was said a little slower and clearer that I could possibly try....but at this point I don't bother. 

She hasn't smiled at me once, and up until now has said little and avoids eye contact.  I am thinking how difficult it would be when a language you have to use entirely isn't your 1st language - and then try to work in an environment in which you have to not only speak only in English, but also think and then quickly communicate.  I think one might try to avoid all unnecessary contact in that case....  I suppose it might be less intimidating to sit at the desk, back to patient with the eyes glued on the computer screen.

She offers me a Tylenol.   I asked "what for?"   She says "for your headache".   I tell her  I don't have a headache.....she tells me I told her I did.  I tell her no, she had asked how my pain was and I told her I still had a little chest pain still......but thanks anyway.   Maybe she didn't comprehend the entire conversation?

At this point, I have told no one (save the Lab Tech)  that I am an RN.   From my past experience in this place, I could see that it would put me at a disadvantage.

It's a fine line for an RN to walk - you want to get the best care that you know you should get,  yet you don't want to step on toes or appear to be "demanding"..... besides, this couldn't be cardiac anyway, right?

I have to say now, that I have worked (and been in Emerg)  in three smaller community/rural hospitals in this province,  and 3 of the largest hospitals in this province, and know that this whole scenario is not typical for most hospital EDs. 

I am just glad I am going to get to do the stress test -  and then go home.  The RN wheels me over to the ECG lab.  I offered to walk over but that didn't go over too well.  I did get a laugh out of her though.

The ECG tech welcomes me to her area - after her initial surprise at my unannounced arrival.   I guess I made it there before notification did.   I heard that my space was made available due to two cancellations.  I am just thankful I can get it done. 

Curtains are pulled and the Tech plasters on more electrode patches and attaches the parts to my waist.  My gown is open and in wanders a little old lady from the next booth over.  She has lost her way.  The Tech redirects her and pulls the curtains shut. 

Turns back to me.  "Sorry about that" she apologizes. " I really like a little more privacy than this...."   I reassure her that I am grateful it was only a little old lady.  We laugh about it.

The Internist is present for most of the test and she gives the OK at the end.  The Tech hands me my results, signed by the internist. 

All goes well and I pass with flying colors.  Once again I offer to walk back to Emergency.

Instead, I am wheeled back to my Cubicle number 9.

My RN is nowhere to be seen.  Must be break time.  I am thinking at this point that color coded scrubs might be the way to go, because honestly, I'm and RN and  I can't tell the difference between the MDs and the nurses and the techs.  They are all dressed the same - in street type clothes. 

I can eliminate the ones with the mops and the garbage cans.... but all the rest?  It's confusing.   I don't know who I am supposed to ask to help free me from my IV.

A happy looking gal walks by and I ask if she knows if there is anything else that needs doing - besides IV removal - before I go?  

The RN says that she will be with me in a minute to help me - and  I start taking the IV apart myself....and have all the tape and opsite loose, ready for a square of gauze and tape when she comes over to help.  She looks at me quizzically.   "Are you a nurse, by any chance?"

I laughed.  "Ya - who else would be taking out her own IV neatly - without ripping it out and blood all over?" She joins in with the laughter. "Ya, really" she replies. 

I change out of my gown and gather up the sheets and dirty laundry in a neat pile in the middle of the stretcher.   Old habits die hard.

I spot my paperwork feathered out across the counter.   The RN looks through it and I ask if I can take a peek at the blood work.   "Sure" she says and takes the lab results printout and hands them to me.   "Here you go - you might want these - it's a good idea to keep your records...".....I smile and thank her.

I only get lost once trying to find my way out. In and out in 3 hours and 15 minutes.

Not bad.

It's been 48 hours since my Emergency visit.....still having slight chest pain - not as bad as before.   Good news is - I have been slotted in to see my MD (Dr. Johnny Depp) today and will see what transpires.

I hate being a patient.

I also discovered I have developed another allergy.

Adhesive.   I can tell by the 10 round red itchy circles all over my chest.....

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Just got back from Dr. Johnny Depp's office.

He just laughed at me and told me I didn't "fit the profile" of a cardiac patient and told me it was probably "anxiety".   Hmm.  Which I would believe if I were actually anxious about something.  And if the pain didn't wake me up out of a dead sleep at 2 am....

Who knows.

He gave me an Rx for adalat anyway, and I suppose I will try it out......

What's the worst that could happen?

I'll do anything to stay out of Emergency.

I would probably even prefer to die first -  before I go back there.

courtesy of jimbenton.com

(taken directly from the info on their YouTube channel)

To highlight some of the critical work being done at the Goodman Cancer Research Centre, we gathered some of our top scientists, students, lab techs and dedicated volunteers, who turned on the music - and danced!

Thanks to our proud sponsor, Medicom, a donation will be made for each hit to support advances in cancer research at the Goodman Cancer Research Centre.




So go to the link and click on it....and view! Make Medicom pay up!

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Earlier today the number of views was 50K

Views presently sit at 58,948!!

I have told a few birth stories in my blog about my Grandmother and her Midwifery experiences in rural Alberta..... and they are incredible enough.

Here is an interesting story of a young woman who was pregnant and didn't know it, so embarked on a rigorous hike up the 75 kilometer West Coast Trail with her father and subsequently went into labor 2 days into the trip.

She had to be evacuated out - taken to the hospital for her delivery.  Here is her story:



If you want to read up on the story in greater detail, here is the newspaper article.

Interestingly enough, a nurse from the Northwest Territories happened to be on the trail at the same time.  They borrowed her cell to make the Emergency Call. 

Responding paramedics arrived by inflatable motor-powered boat which they anchored off shore - and inflated a secondary boat which they rowed through 1 1/2 meter swells to shore, and after examinations done... put her in a "floater suit"  and rowed her back to  the  larger zodiac and delivered her to a dock in Port Renfrew where an ambulance awaited.

Transported to Victoria General Hospital, her acute abdomen was finally diagnosed as labor.  According to the paramedic attending at the scene - "there wasn't an obvious belly".

She delivered by cesarean section,  a baby girl weighing in at 7lbs 4 ounces.

Quite the surprise.

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In my late 20's, I hiked that West Coast Trail on a Biology field trip to Bamfield when I was in my RN training.  Believe me, it's not a trail you would want to traverse when you are not pregnant.....never mind when you are in labor! 

To appreciate the incredulousness of the above story, here are some facts about the West Coast Trail:

-Some hikers have died on the trail.

-Some cell phone connections *might* be available on some beaches - sometimes. VHF radio connection is more reliable.

-You cannot use 911 for emergencies.

-Rogue waves and surge channels make hiking a dangerous risk.

-This is not a good hike to choose if you are not used to multi-day hikes in rigorous conditions

-Slippery footing causes multiple falls en route.  Guaranteed.

-Few finish this adventure pain-free.

-You have to carry your own backpack, which is usually very heavy, whilst on this strenuous hike.

-You will have to climb 50 huge ladders

-Rain and wind are the norm. You will need a good tent.

-6 inches of rain in 12 hours is a real possibility.  Don't try to attempt this in sneakers. The mud can be as deep as mid-calf.

-In the summer it gets nice and warm at 57F. Hypothermia is a risk.

-There is food available at the 44 km mark.  Otherwise, bring your own.

-You will also need to bring rope to hang your food in trees to keep away from bears.

- Rescue services may only be available "in season".  Outside of season, especially in bad weather, be prepared to be on your own.

-It is one of the top 10 hikes in the world.

So -  now you have to appreciate the story above.....

West Coast Trail Map

I guess I shouldn't complain so much about Facebook. 

I got sent this E-card:



So true, so true!

Mark Meyer Photo from Twitter

Not so long ago (well, to me, anyways!) the world was holding it's collective breath as the first space capsule landed on the moon. It is thought that 500 million persons around the world watched as Apollo 11 landed and the first step was taken on the moon that July 21 in 1969.



Neil Armstrong's first step:  NASA/Science photo Library

 Our parents had a resort in the Okanagan and I spent every summer cleaning motel units.

This day was no exception.

I was 14 years old and as everyone else, I was swept up in the excitement of the moment. My mom and dad set up a black and white television on the lawn so that the customers could all watch the televised coverage of the moon event.

I was supposed to be working - changing towels - but it was important to me not to miss this historic event so I sneaked into the storage room where a tiny 13 inch black and white TV was sitting abandoned on the shelf.

In the blackness of the small windowless room - save the dim flickering of the screen, light bouncing off shelves of clean towels and sheets, me standing amongst assorted buckets and used lumps of laundry on the floor with the pungent smell of Pinesol and dust burning in my nostrils - I watched Neil Armstrong step off the ladder and onto the moon.

"That's one small step for man, one giant leap for mankind" was heard around the world.

A faint cheer welled up from beyond the closed door of the storage room - from the lawn where, by this time, a small crowd of seventy or so people had gathered in front of the TV.

I was so excited by this unbelievable accomplishment, but because I was supposed to be working, I wasn't able to share it with anyone.

I will never forget that day.

So, it amazes me when something like this video below comes out and is posted on Youtube where only some people will watch it and then they will then yawn and say..."oh yeah" and go onto the next big thing, only somewhat impressed....maybe.



It's a time lapse movie of a flyover by the International Space Station - starting in the Pacific over North America and travelling down the coast of South America to the Antarctic.

The first cities you can see are Vancouver and Victoria....then Seattle and on down to Portland, San Francisco and Los Angeles.

Pretty cool.

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I wish I would have posted the website sooner. I find it so fascinating.

I suppose the interest stems from all the times I skippered for my father on his  clipper years ago.

My dad on his boat

Just to get you up to speed, here is the time lapse of the rebuilding of the most recent Bluenose II:



The website can be found here. Check it out!  There are 3 different cams that show the progress of the build in real time. You can actually watch the men as they work on the ship.

Here is the condensed version of the story of this Canadian icon:

THE BLUENOSE

Designed by William Roue, the original fishing/racing schooner was built in 1921 - 90 years ago - in Lunenburg, Nova Scotia, one of the Maritime Provinces.

She was made entirely of Nova Scotian wood.  The only exception were the masts, which required the tall Oregon pine.

Christened the "Bluenose" - the ship's name came from an 18th century nickname for Nova   Scotians.  Whether the the nickname was due to the color of their noses from the cold weather or simply due to their political bent.... no one is really sure.

The Bluenose was a working fishing vessel, one of the requirements to enter the Fisherman's race.   She also beat out 7 other Nova Scotian sailboats to qualify in the competition for the International Fisherman's Trophy.
As the age of sails came to a close with the introduction of alternate means of power,  the grand schooners with their sheets and sails were no longer needed.
 Unfortunately, due to lack of funds,  the Bluenose was sold to a company for use in the West Indies where she hauled bananas until she was wrecked off the coast of Haiti.

The inspiration and memory  of such a magnificent ship captured the imagination of the whole country.




Canadian dime: wiki



my dad in his glory....even a small sailboat can dream it is a Bluenose!



The house that my brother fell out of

 When my younger brother was not quite 2 years old, he fell from a  window of our house to the gravel below.  He landed on his face - blood all over.  

My mom called a taxi - leaving us three older children in the care of our aunt - and rushed him to Emergency. 

The only visible evidence of the fall today is a small scar on his forehead hairline and an absent frenulum.



My mom with my brother

 
But, to this day, I wonder if there was some sort of residual brain injury, because  -  he just isn't right.

********

It's an accident that is easily preventable.

Yet every year there are more than 5,000 children that fall out of windows in the USA.  

I find it surprising with all the publicity and preventative measures available,  that there has been quite a rash of children falling out of windows lately in the Metro Vancouver area in the last 4 months:

September 18, 2011: A boy, 13 months old - out of a second story window - possible fractured leg, in Surrey.

August 10, 2011: A 2 year old boy out of a 3rd floor window  in Surrey, injuring his face.

August 11, 2011: A 3 year old boy fell out of a second storey townhouse window - condition unknown, in Maple Ridge.

July 14, 2011: A 2 year old fell 2 storeys in Surrey.

June 3rd, 2011: A 2 year old fell to her death from an 8th storey window in New Westminster.

June 17, 2011: A 5 year old fell 3 storeys in Burnaby.

May 14, 2011: An 8 year old fell from a 4th storey window in Abbotsford.

May 19, 2011: A 4 year old fell 2 storeys in West Vancouver.


The statistics haven't changed much in the last 20 years.....  since Eric Clapton's 4 year old son fell out of a 54th storey window in New York.

Overcome by grief, he wrote this song:



You would think we would learn and at least install guards on the window.

In NYC - it's the law.

I had a good laugh yesterday.

After I posted this video yesterday on my Facebook,  my mother commented beneath, " That lady looks like my MOM!!!!!!!!!!!!"

To which I replied, "Mom: You are in denial. SHE looks like YOU!"

Which -  she does. 

It's funny that I had posted the same thing on my own blogpost....that the little old lady looked like MY mother - not my grandmother! 

I guess in a few years, I might be looking like my mom. Or my grandmother.

Memories of a discussion with my mother approximately 20 years ago popped into my head.

While discussing years gone by,  I had asked what age she felt in her head....and she replied that she felt the same as when she was 18, which was difficult for me to equate at the time.

my mother a million years ago

Through the years we gather knowledge and experience and our mind grows and our ideas expand. We mature (hopefully) and grow spiritually and socially.   Eventually it gets to the point where we may still  feel young - but our body shows otherwise.  

When I was younger, the idea that someday I would get old just didn't gel. (Lo, you hit the nail on the head!)   I was in denial.

Getting old?  Not me! I would be the exception. 

I had decided that I was not going to fall apart and have body functions doing things that I don't want them to.    I wasn't going to be that old person who would fart at inappropriate times and, somehow, my age lines wouldn't resemble my mother's.  My joints were going to move without creaks and cracks, thank-you-very-much.

I wasn't an exceptional beauty growing up, but I must admit - I always had the attention of the opposite sex, even though I didn't really pay much attention to them. 

Now, as an older person (ouch!) one notices the absence of male attention and one has no choice but to accept the fact that age is a very real thing that actually does creep up on one!   All those old people I looked after for the last 35 years are suddenly - me!

*There. I said it.*

Not that I really care now about less male attention any more than I did when I was younger.  It's just that when something you took for granted that was an everyday thing is now absent.....well.....you notice.  It hits you smack in the face.

Men aren't hit so hard with the facts, interestingly enough.  Take my cousin's husband for example:

It struck me rather funny the last time I was visiting them - the story he excitedly and incredulously told the group about how some young chick was "coming onto him" at the golf course.   I laughed at him (yes I did!) and with an attempt at a reality check -  corrected him...." For gosh sakes, Tom - she was only trying to wheedle a good tip out of you...she probably thought she was being nice to some old grandpa ....not flirting!!!! "

what men see

My cousin's husband is in denial, or blind, but maybe that's because he's a guy.  And no, my comment that I countered with didn't crush his ego.

Typical.

I think women are more realistic about things like that.

So, for you young persons out there.....just sayin'.  It will happen to you someday, and unless you are incredibly wealthy and can afford the "fixes" ( come on, do you really want to look like a plastic corpse?)......you will be in my boat someday.

But - don't let it stop you from enjoying yourself: 

Pay attention to what is now  -  and savor every bit of life.   Don't ever let depression get in your way.  

Do things you want to do now.   Laugh often.  Smile at strangers.  Do things that make you feel good, and doing good things for others will do that for you. 

Don't wait for others to catch up to you.  Charge on ahead - and let others follow.

Take advantage of every opportunity and don't let life "just happen" to you.

Learn from your mistakes and see them as opportunity for growth rather than a negative thing. Move on and don't waste what time is left.  Throwing good after bad doesn't fix things!

I wish I had learned a lot earlier what I know now, but that's what happens.  Even if someone had told me these things....   would I have listened? 

Probably not. 

It's the curse of being young. 

So, back to my mom.

She thinks the lady in the video looks old - like her mom.   I think the lady looks old - like my mom.
I am sure if I had kids....they would say she looks old....like me.

Lucky for me, or maybe not so lucky for me- depending on your situation.....I have no one that can say that to me.

At least I am not in denial.  I have no illusions whatsoever about what I look like now as an older person.


But - It's all good.

...........Really!

Today is the 40th anniversary of the Creation of Greenpeace*.

You might not realize this, but the movement gave birth in Vancouver, British Columbia, Canada.

A motley crew of 17 activists, hippies and lawyers...got together and decided that they had to do something for the environment.

On September 15th 1971, they got together a crew and set sail on a "rickety 20 foot boat" and headed to Amchitka Island to somehow try and stop the nuclear testing by the US military.   The vessel was mainly funded by a concert put on by Joni Mitchell and James Taylor at the Pacific Coliseum in Vancouver - attended by 10 thousand people.

In the wake of the Cold War, a powerful 5.1 megaton hydrogen bomb, 250 times more powerful than the one used on Hiroshima, was set to go off in the Aleutian Islands off Alaska.

Photo of our protest from my 1971-1972 High school Yearbook And yes, I am in that crowd somewhere...

The feeble but brave protest stirred up support from our then Prime Minister, Pierre Trudeau,  the rest of Canada - and the New York Times.

There was a protest march in many places across the country.

I know in our high school, we were let out early from classes to march in the streets and to the US/Canadian border to protest Amchitka.

To us, it was more than just a day off. We really believed in what the newly formed Greenpeace was doing. We were concerned about our environment and our future in this world.  We believed that we could move together to make a difference.

We wanted change for our future.

An article in our newspaper states:

The resultant continent-wide kerfuffle brought on by Greenpeace forced U.S. authorities in 1972 to cancel further tests.

It was a proud moment for Greenpeace.

It was a proud moment for us, as students, even though we probably actually made very little difference - we were still a small whisper among many that - collectively - was heard all the way to the White House.

It stirred up something in our generation that has carried on to present day. 

Hopefully each subsequent  generation will realize that what we have now took work and attention and they must also carry on and fight for what is right.

The Greenpeace blog says: "Let Greenpeace Day act as a reminder that as the anthropologist Margaret Mead once put it: ‘Never doubt that a … group of committed citizens can change the world. Indeed, it is the only thing that ever has’

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*The name came to being when one of the "hippy" members said "Peace".....and someone else replied ... "Well, then let it be a Green Peace". More or less, that's the story.

Greenpeace is the most visible and widely known environmental organization in the world with a $320 million budget and 3 million dues-paying members.

I swear, this little lady looks like my mother - even acts like her. Even has the same computer problems.

The gentleman....not so much. My dad can be this cheerful but he is not so appreciative of my mother's attributes, at least - not that I have observed....



I love it!

Apparently the grandchildren found this video saved on their grandparent's computer and decided it would be a great post for Youtube.

The delightful couple lives in Oregon.

I needed something uplifting.

I have posted this song in a previous post by the original artists...but this version is so much sweeter.....




I always wanted a little girl....and this tugs at my heart.

"One day I'm gonna whistle"....how cute!!

After working in L&D and seeing the births of so many little ones...I wish for such a beautiful family connection for all of them....

As a young nurse, Christine Egan immigrated to Canada from Hull, England in 1969 as an experienced RN with two years under her belt.  She was very close to her brother Michael, and he also made the move to their new country - to Montreal.

Courtesy of Ellen Judd, Christine's partner

Instead of working in the more convenient and populated areas of Canada, Christine decided to work in Northern Canada - one of the most desperately needy areas in the field of medicine ...now known as Nunavut.  She also worked in First Nations communities in Northern Manitoba. 

The needs were great, the challenges many.

She was very popular, not only with her co-workers but also her patients and within the communities she served. 

Beloved by everyone,  she was passionate about providing health care to those in the northern regions where it is so desperately lacking*. 

She also set her own standards high.

Her constantly inquiring mind drove her to obtain her nurse practitioner's license and then on to pursue studies in anthropology and health sciences.

In 1999 she achieved a PhD in Community Health Service.

She was committed to health and education in Nunavut.

Christine was working with Health Canada as an epidemiologist when the call came from her brother in New Jersey.

It was her love for family and caring as an R.N. that took her to New Jersey in September of 2001.

Her brother Michael, now living and working in the USA,  was planning a trip with his wife to Bermuda to celebrate their 20th wedding anniversary.  Christine offered to care for their son -  her 16 year old nephew with Down's Syndrome, while they vacationed.

She arrived a couple days early, and on September 11th, she accompanied her brother into New York City.

Christine was supposed to meet an old college friend there, but because her friend couldn't make it, she instead went with her brother up to his office on the 104th floor of the WTC south tower for a morning coffee and a peek at the magnificent view of the city from such a great height.

September 11, 2001 is forever etched in everyone's heart and mind, but never so much as those who received those last phone calls from their family and friends.

The last word from the pair was a phone call from Michael to his wife:

Michael's wife said he always called her no matter where he was and without fail he called her on the morning of September 11, too. His wife had been watching the horrible breaking news on the television and was relieved to get that call from her husband.    

"You made it!" she gasped with relief as she picked up the phone.

"No, we're stuck," replied Michael.

And while still on the phone with her husband and watching television as she spoke, she watched his building suddenly collapse.

She doesn't know if he got to hear her last words to him. "I love you, darling."

Since Christine's death on 9/11, a scholarship fund has been set up in her name, to be awarded to nurses who are also committed to working in Canada's north - in Nunavut. 

Twenty-one awards have been made to 17 people - those with deep roots in the north, mainly Inuit - who would stay in the north and be committed to continuing with the work so dear to Christine's heart.

"Chris' scholarship is a comfort to all of us involved in it because it is so close to what she cared about and the way she lived," Judd [her partner] said.

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*Read here at Asystole's blog and also Dr. Ottematic for first hand accounts of nursing/doctoring in Nunavut and Northern Manitoba.

There have been a few of these out there, so I thought I would add my two cents worth.

You know you are a Nurse when:   upon discovering someone used up all your cream you left in the fridge - you use baby formula in your coffee instead.....

Yup. Done that.

Many times.

At least there is some use for formula!

And no, it doesn't taste that bad.


And....according to my mother, it is probably the *first* time I had tasted the stuff......

Now that they have "electronic distractions" banned from the roadway in our province, I don't think they will have to worry about adding breastfeeding while driving on the growing list of Road Sense laws.