Monday, 15 April 2019

Not really sure what I want to write about.  I feel adrift.  I'm not used to being home all day anymore.  I miss my routine, miss by patients and miss my friends at work.  Last week was busy enough, at a different hospital all week, but I feel out of sorts.

I'm waiting for the other shoe to drop I guess.  Waiting for the shit storm my son usually causes.  Hurting already for his son who will be lied to and disappointed by his father over and over again.  I hope that doesn't happen but in my experience it's what my son does.  Fucking hell!  It's the reason I left my son's father and now history is repeating itself.

I need to let go of expectations and worries and just live today.  If anyone out there knows how to do this, please let me know.

I'm reading "Becoming" by Michelle Obama.  I would like to have her as a friend.  I would like to have had her parents.  I wonder if I would have been different if I had different parents.  I'm not a bad person but I worry so much.  I'm like Mark Twain,    “I've lived through some terrible things in my life, some of which actually happened.” 

I am more like my mother than I would like to be.  She made catastrophes out of small things.  I try not to but still it happens.  I don't imagine I'm the only one either.

The sky is grey today, rain or snow today in the forecast.  It matches my mood.

Saturday, 13 April 2019

It always amazes me how perfect newborn babies are, how perfect and how innocent.

Thursday, 11 April 2019

 Liam had a hard time coming into the world.  His mama was terrified, refused to attend prenatal classes because she thought it would cause her too much anxiety and didn't know anything about c-sections, other than, she didn't want one.  It didn't go well for either of them and eventually both Liam and his mama were at risk for severe complications.  As it was, he didn't breathe on his own for the first six and half minutes of his life.  He's still drowsy from all the drugs but has latched on and is breast feeding which is good.  He's a sweet little guy.  His mama enrolled him in a long term study to research the effects of his particular resusitation.  A new prayer to add to my nightly ritual.  Please let him be okay.

My daughter accused me of being negative all the time which stung.  She's not wrong but I started thinking about medicine and nursing and realized that when things are working well, when there is no negative, everything is fine.  I was taught to look for dysfunction, not function.  I think of myself as a realist.  I hope but within the confines of reality.  I don't hope for miracles, or maybe I do.  I think the big guy would say I hope for miracles.  So basically I'm all over the map.

I'm scared that my son will scar this little boy for life with broken promises and addictions, just like his own father did to him.   I can't fix my son, I can only stand by and hope and pray.  I finished the quilt for Liam finally, on the day he was born.  I had to wash it because the cat had already vomited on it but I kept the promise to myself to made a quilt for my grandchildren.

I'm scared and hopeful and tired.  I have such a hard time seeing the good.  I guess my daughter is right.  I need some mountain time, or at least some time by the river and the trees.

Tuesday, 9 April 2019

He finally arrived in the night after fifty hours of labor and a c-section.

Friday, 5 April 2019

It's been a busy couple of weeks.  Still no baby.  Gracie was supposed to start being induced yesterday but apparently the hospital had a bunch of emergency C sections so no time for inductions.  That poor girl is terrified of labour and I'm wondering how much of the holdup is due to fear.  I imagine she's also worried about the shit show that will ensue with my son after the baby is born.

Last week I texted my son and told him that I wanted his stuff out of our garage, just bags of clothes.  When he went to jail last November Gracie called us and asked us to pick up all his stuff.  She was traumatized by my son and then the police.  My son was hallucinating and telling her they had to kill someone again.  The police were called by a neighbor and they broke down the door, handcuffed both of them and then carted my son away.

When he got out of jail in January I asked him to come get his stuff.  Two and half months later, it was still here.  He stopped by once to get a few things but refused to take all of it.  So last week I told him I wanted it out of our garage before the weekend was over.  He couldn't do that.  He had plans.  Next weekend he said.  I told him no, it was happening this weekend.

It went back and forth.  He finally agreed to let us deliver his stuff to him, you're very welcome.  We drove to the other side of the city and woke up a very tired looking Polish lady who had no idea who my son was.  He gave us the wrong address, on purpose or by accident I don't know because I asked him three times for the address and got two different answers.  I tried to contact him, no answer.  Yada yada.  We gave up and drove home.  Later that day we donated his stuff to Goodwill and I haven't heard back from him.

I'm starting to accept that my son must be mentally ill.  This goes beyond addiction and regular fuck ups.  His life is a train wreck and it breaks my heart but I will no let him drag me down with him, or his son.

At work we had accreditation this past week which was intense.  It's over and the system that the big guy developed to deal with the equipment in DI was a huge hit.  There's talk of selling the system and I'm so proud of him.  He's been working on it for the past seven and a half years and it finally got the recognition it deserves.

Spring has finally arrived and I have some tomato and sunflower plants sprouting in the kitchen window.  I've already been to the greenhouse twice so far and can hardly wait until I can plant outside.  The geese have arrived and their honks fill the air.  It's a sound I love.  In a few more weeks it will be the sound of the sandhill cranes flying overhead.  I can hardly wait.

Saturday, 23 March 2019

I was sick again this past week.  The last six weeks have conspired to make me feel like a very old woman, but I'm on the mend.  Yesterday at work a seventy-four year man assumed I was close to his age.  Ouch.  It's the almost white hair.  I hope.

My grandbaby hasn't made an appearance yet.  His mama has moved and is all settled in now and loves the house.  I took the dog for a walk last night and stopped by to visit her and see how she was doing.  She's good but big as a house poor thing.  Soon.

We had a code at work this week, a severe allergic reaction to the CT dye, something that happens but rarely are the reactions that bad.  The patient was fine in the end but scared the shit out of all of us.

One of the nurses I work with is a good friend of mine.  She has bipolar disorder and is sinking again.  She usually only last about six months at work and then ends up back in the hospital which always breaks my heart.  She's a smart, funny, kind woman who has a huge heart and right now I can see her fading.  She folds up and slowly backs away when she is suffering.  Her fur goes up and she gets prickly.  It's the disease but still I miss her when she's like this.

Same old same old.  Nothing much changes, while constantly changing.  The snow is receding in the back yard leaving behind snow mold and what appears to the stools of a hundred dogs.  I can't believe such a small dog can produce that much shit.  I suppose mine would look the same if it wasn't flushed down the toilet each day but rather spread on my lawn, waiting for spring.

My in-laws are coming for supper.  I won't hold my tongue today if my father-in-law starts talking about Muslims.  I'm done with letting him getting away with his racism because I try to respect my elders.  If he chooses to talk about racism I will respond.

Now it's time to clean.  There are muddy dog footprints on the floors which need cleaning up.  Supper to be made and a dessert.  I'll listen to the CBC while I putter around the house.  The big guy has gone into work for a few hours and I have the house to myself.

Wednesday, 20 March 2019

Trying to be a decent human being so I asked my ex husband if he wanted to meet his grandson.  This is what he wrote back.

I met my ex husband when my son was almost three years old.  When my son was five years old, my ex adopted my son.  The second name that is whited out is that of my son's biological father whom I've had nothing to do with in decades.

When I was married to that man, I believed I was crazy.  Turns out I'm not, it was just that I lived with a depressed, angry, vindictive man.  I'm so thankful that he's not in my life anymore and to be honest, I'm thankful he doesn't want to be involved in his grandson's life.  The big guy is already an excellent grandpa.

Friday, 15 March 2019

I feel so sad tonight.  I tried to reach out to a young woman with cancer who was being given a hard time on social media because she was angry.  Why the hell wouldn't she be angry?  But I think I messed it up and I feel badly.

And Donald tRump continues to spew his brand of hatred and bigotry and fear and others pick up and run with it and now a lot of people in New Zealand are dead.  And I want to tell Mr. tRump to stop.  Stop hating.  Stop sewing seeds of hate.  Stop lying.  Stop being a horrible human being but when I go on his Facebook page people leave comments about what a wonderful president he is and I feel sick to my stomach and I want to cry and cry and cry.

And I worry about the world and I worry about what we're all doing to each other.  And I wonder how you get to a place where you think it's okay to gun down innocent people, men, women and children, in a house of worship.  How do you end up with so much hate in your heart?

And did Donald tRump get his hatred from the same place?  And is it contagious?  Or are all human beings that horrible and we just pretend to be good?  Is it just a thin veneer that stops us from hurting and hating each other?

Monday, 11 March 2019

Miss Katie is doing well.  We took her out last Sunday and she wanted me to take this photo of her.  She's sees young women taking photos of themselves and each other all the time at the mall and she is a young woman, so she insisted I take a photo.  

The last year was rough on her.  Last April she had a few very bad meltdowns, one which including attacking me, another, attacking a caregiver.  I didn't know what to do so I took her to emergency.  There is not really any good psychiatric care for people with developmental disabilities.  After eight hours we finally met a wonderful psych resident who recommended valproic acid as a mood stabilizer and after eleven hours, we left emergency with a prescription for valproic acid.  

I can't say enough good things about the drug.  It has dramatically changed Katie's life.  She is no longer anxious, or rarely, and when she does become anxious, it is short lived.  Her attention span has increased greatly and she is trying to fingerspell people's names and tries numbers as well.  Because she's more relaxed and has quit attacking people, she only goes into her wheelchair when she's tired.  The cape is gone, except when she's on DATS, because of an incident that happened six years ago.  She attacked a bus driver, pulled their hair.  When we wander around the mall with her in wheelchair, legs crossed, she holds up her hand and wants to high five everyone.  She hugs freely as well.  A lot of people who work at that mall know her.

She's more like her old self again.  She's happy, smiling and enjoying life.  Her sense of humor has returned and she laughs often and hard.  She gets so excited at times that her body vibrates but she doesn't tip over into anxiety anymore, she's just excited and then it passes.  

We were at the mall on Sunday and there was an International Judo competition going on.  She's not a fan of conflict but when I explained that the contestants were "playing" she was okay with it.  She sat in her chair and watched, mezmerized.  She loves watching people.  When we had to continue on to meet the big guy for lunch, she asked if we could go back to watch the fighting.  I said later and she remembered that and held me to it.

During lunch the big guy asked if she wanted to go to the petting zoo and Miss Katie looks at me and signs fighting, later.  I started laughing because I had already forgotten about that promise but she didn't.  I kept my word and she made her choice, Judo over animals.  

On the way home in the car she asked me to ask her caregivers if she could go and watch the swimmers at the nearby pool, so I did.

She's learning and growing and it blows my mind that after years of regression that she is now blossoming.  I am thankful.

My kind of humor.

I've been sick off and on for the past four weeks.  I hate being sick, hate sitting down, hate being tired and full of mucous all the time, hate laying down in bed at night knowing that I won't sleep well because I can't breath, hate waking up in the middle of the night with a mouth so dry it feels like a desertscape, although maybe that was a dream, I'm not sure.

However, I'm feeling better this morning.  My grandson's mama, Gracie, is now on maternity leave but doesn't get enough money to live on, just cover her rent and nothing else.  So Gracie is going to move in with Nicole, the young woman we rent our house to.  Gracie and Nicole met yesterday and both are excited to start living together.

Gracie is big as a house now and due in two weeks, although the doctor may induce her sooner because the baby is big.  She decided that she would rather move before the baby is born rather than after he's born so she's moving next weekend.  She'll be a short walk away from us which makes me feel that I designed this but I didn't.  I think I feel guilty because something good will come from all of this.

I've taken a couple of days off to paint her bedroom a nice color, scrub floors and hang some curtains.  She's excited to be moving out of her apartment and into a house with a yard and nice neighbors.  Where she lives now is not a good place to raise a kid, there is a massage parlour across the street, her words, not mine but they are true.

She is becoming a part of our family.  Gracie and her parents came over for supper last night so we could get to know her parents and it was nice.  We have nothing in common except for our grandson but that's enough.  We all want what's best for him.  Gracie even gave me a hug as she left which pleased me so much.

My son still doesn't get it.  He posted this on his Facebook page.

I want to tell him that this starts with showing up when you say you're going to;  it means showing up at prenatal appointments.  It starts with making sure your baby mama has enough food to eat while she's pregnant and a roof over her head.  That being a dad starts before your baby is born.  I don't know what the future will bring.  I hope he does better but I doubt it.  I hope and pray but I'm not holding my breath.

The sun is shining through the window this morning.  A woodpecker was just eating some suet and it's going to be above zero all week which is lovely.  The dog expects walks again now that it's warmed up and her feet don't freeze.  She watches me while I brush my teeth and change my clothes, hoping for a walk.  I was a huge disappointment to her yesterday as I ran out of time to walk her.  I shall have to do better today.

Saturday, 9 March 2019

Saturday, 2 March 2019

I was going to write about my mother and her death six years but I am beyond angry this morning and I need to get this shit out of my head.

We rent out a house to a young woman, in her early twenties, and her little boy.  This young woman, I'll call her Nicole, is a lovely young woman.  Hard working, kind and gentle, forgiving.  Far too forgiving if you ask me.  Her boyfriend and his brother, both grown men in their thirties and forties, lived in the house with her.  They treated her like shit.  When she had tried to break up with him in the past he threatened suicide and at another time, threatened to take away her son from her.  They are both pigs, immature and manipulative and the ex-boyfriend doesn't think he should have to support his child.  The money should go into an account for the child which the child can access when he's eighteen.   That's called an RESP you fucking moron.  Child support pays for diapers and food and clothes and school.

She finally gave them both the heave ho.  She has been attacked on facebook by the "boys", I'll call them boys because there is no way in hell they are adults, mother.  She has been called a liar, a thief and bitch by this woman.

When the "boys" moved out on Wednesday, they literally threw her things around and left her with a huge fucking mess.  And not just a housekeeping mess.  Her boyfriend lied on his taxes and now she owes the government a shitload of money that she doesn't have.

These "boys" are also angry at us because they wanted to stay in the house with the cheap rent and make her move out.  I told them that the house is cheap because of Nicole.  She is the daughter of a good friend of ours and she is a single mom.  She is staying there, they can move out.

I know things will get better but right now she feels like she is drowning and it breaks my heart.  And then the furnace quit and it was -30C last night so the house is freezing.  We had a guy there last night to fix the furnace but it must have quit again during the night.

I remember being a single mom and having no money and that feeling of drowning.  Nicole has a wonderful, supportive family but still she has to get through this herself and it's just so damned hard right now for her.

This young woman also gives the best hugs ever and loves with her heart wide open.  She deserves better and I want to hurt someone because of this.  I know my anger will pass too but right now I'm going to clean my house down to the last cat hair in the last corner and exorcise this anger.

Friday, 22 February 2019

I was here a year ago, visiting my middle daughter.  She loves living in Vancouver, not all the time but most of the time.  I spoke to her on the phone the other night and she was happy.  Most of the time the only I hear from her she is going somewhere, driving home from work, going for groceries, or in this case, walking to her boyfriend's place after work.

She was excited because she found an apartment she can afford on her own.  She's never lived on her own.  She got a promotion at work and a raise.  She's happy with her boyfriend.  She's happy and independent which is what I always wanted for my children but I feel a little bereft which is my problem.

Katie is also doing well.  She still needs me but it is not one crisis after another.  Now we take her out for lunch and enjoy her company.  She is healthy and happy.

My son is another story but I have come to accept that I can't fix him, only he can do that.  I've also, mostly, stopped blaming myself for his addictions and behavior.  I have told him that I love him and that's all I can really do.  I will not be drawn into his lies and addictions.  I have a relationship with his baby's mama and I'm glad for that.  It breaks my heart that he is missing out on so much but again, not my fault.

I've been sick with a cold all week and I hate being sick.  I don't like sitting around all day, skin hurting, throat hurting, head pounding.  I'll be better soon but I am an impatient cow:)

Thursday, 14 February 2019

Bohemian Waxwing and thank you to Elizabeth and Carl for the correct name.  I don't know much about birds but I'm learning.  As I sit here typing there is a little chickadee eating at the feeder outside the window.  They are tough little birds that stay here all winter.

It's still cold and we're all getting tired of it.

Work has been good for the most part.  Two co-workers that were always awful to work with took temporary jobs elsewhere so it has been wonderful for the most part.  All of the nurses I work with now are young and kind and full of energy.  Sadly, the two co-workers will both be back in six weeks.  Fuck.

It's that time of year when winter seems like it will never end.  The trees are bare, the world is covered with snow and it's too cold to walk outside.  I'm waiting.  Waiting for winter to end.  Waiting for my grandson to be born.  Waiting for holidays to start.  Waiting for the shit to hit the fan at work again.  Instead of bitching about it perhaps I should take this time to just pause and gather my strength, use this time to take care of myself.

I never know what to do with myself when I have time on my hands.  I'm not good at relaxing, don't know how to be, only how to do.

It's just the time of year.

Sunday, 10 February 2019

It's been so cold that I haven't been outside except to run back and forth between the car and buildings.  But that same cold has forced me to take different kinds of photos.  There is a pair of woodpeckers that live nearby and love the insect filled suet.  I love watching them.

The cedar waxwings were back yesterday, stripping the trees of their berries.  I went upstairs to the bedroom to get a better view of them and a couple of them decided to fly into the window, not sure why.  After two bird strikes, I shut the blind and left them to their business.  I don't want to find bodies on the ground.

In the fall the juvenile waxwings come back and strip fermented berries off the trees.  One day I had twenty-five drunk teenage birds hit the windows.  Apparently drinking and flying is as dangerous as drinking and driving for teens.  Two birds died but the rest survived.

I always feel restless this time of year.  I'm done with winter and want spring to come but that won't happen for awhile.  My grandson is due in seven weeks and I try not to stress about what kind of father my son will be.  I don't where he's living or what he's doing.  He is leaving Gracie alone which is good but I worry what will happen once the baby is born.

Miss Katie is doing well.  I took her for a doctor appointment last week and the receptionist had never seen Katie out of her wheelchair, didn't know Katie could walk, didn't know how tall Katie was.  We have a referral to a new psychiatrist who has training working with people with developmental disabilities which will be good.  And we also have a referral to a geneticist.  The last genetics appointment Katie had was twenty years ago and things have changed since then.  The human genome has been mapped and I would still like answers.  I understand that nothing can be fixed but I would still like to know what happened.

Last Sunday the big guy and I took Katie out for lunch at the mall.  We drove to see the horses on Fox Drive and then went to the mall.  Katie ran/walked for awhile, we had lunch and then Katie sat in her wheelchair with her legs crossed and proceeded to high five everyone we walked by.  I'm happy the valproic acid has helped with her anxiety and moods.  She's like her old self.  I enjoy spending time with my daughter again and I am so thankful.

Wednesday, 6 February 2019

It's cold here.  Very, very cold.  On the weekend the cedar waxwings arrived and descended on our yard to eat the berries off the trees.  They come in flocks and remind me that spring isn't that far away.

I've been thinking about grief a lot lately.  How we each experience grief.  How we process it.  What we do with it.  For myself I tend to carry grief with me, it trails along behind me, kind of like this dress.  I wear my grief.

I wonder how other people deal with grief.  How do you deal with your grief?

Friday, 1 February 2019

It's cold and snowing here, a good day to stay inside and hibernate but I'm not going to do that.  Today I'm off to have lunch with my girlfriend whom I haven't seen in a few months.  The roads are covered in snow and it's fucking cold but that's never kept me home before.

My friend has multiple myeloma and had a stem cell transplant.  She is now on chemo until she dies.  What will happen eventually is the chemo will stop working and then the cancer will come back full force.  The doctor gave her 8-10 years which sounds like a long time until you start to think about it.  Only eight more harvest moons.  Eight more springs.  Eight more Christmases.

Anyway, she was very pissed off to find out that other cancer patients don't have to take chemo for the rest of their lives, so I told her that patients with neuroendocrine tumors have to have treatment for the rest of their lives as well.  She was somewhat mollified by that news.  I love this woman and we have known each other for close to thirty years.  We recently decided to adopt each other as sisters because our own sisters suck.

I made cinnamon scones to ward off the cold and I think tonight for supper I'll make tomato soup with a grilled chilled sandwich.  I don't cook for the big guy on Friday nights, it's free for all Friday and we both have whatever we feel like.  My meal is usually meatless, his is not.  He always says you don't get to be this big without eating meat.  I haven't bothered to counter his argument with facts such as cows, moose and bison are all much bigger than him and are all vegetarians.  I love him just as he is.

Saturday, 26 January 2019

One of my patients died on Thursday.  She was the lady we did the biopsy on only two weeks ago.  The biopsy that had turned into a shit show.   I remember thinking at the time how removed she was from everything, as if she had no interest in what was going on around her.  I think she knew she was dying but I was surprised at how quickly she died.  Her cancer grew like wildfire and now her family is left to deal with the aftermath.

I saw my grandson for the first time on Thursday.  I went with Gracie to the high risk clinic that she had been referred to because of the baby's kidneys.  Everything is fine.  His kidneys are fine and he is growing well.  Of course I cried.  I still worry about what his life will be like but I'm slowly accepting that I have no control over that.  I can only do my best, be a good grandma for him and hope.

And so life continues.  I saw my son briefly, told him that I loved him.  I hope he can stay sober.  Again, I have no control over that and I tried not to focus on it.  

I'm reading a book by Matt Haig right now, "Notes On A Nervous Planet".  So much of what he writes resonated with me.  The always waiting for when your life begins.  "When progress happens fast it can  make the present feel like a continual future."  "We are not encouraged to live in the present.  We are trained to live somewhere else:  the future."  I've felt like that my whole life and I struggle with it still.

Today is not what I look forward to, it's the summer, the holiday, the trip, the lunch with my friend, time with my daughter but today often seems like just putting in time until something in the future happens.  

So how do I do this?  Enjoy today.  Look forward to the future as well.  Why do I think it's an either/ or solution?  It should be a both/and solution.  Maybe I'm just tired.

The dog is waiting for a walk.  I wish it was sunny blue skies today but that's not the case.  Today they are grey which just feels blah.  I'm sure the fresh air will be good for me.

Sunday, 20 January 2019

Winter colours.

My son is out of jail.  Yay.  I realize I like it when he's in jail.  I know where he is.  He's sober and he can't call me.  So now I have to hope and pray that he stays sober, that he doesn't harass his ex-girlfriend, that he does what he says he will.  He wants to be there for his son.  I want to hope but that hope has been run over so many times, there's little of it left.

I'm tired, beyond tired and I'm guessing it's related to stress.  The big guy has a huge knot in his shoulder, also stress related.  Fuck.

Spring seems so far away.  I know it's edging closer but I it will be awhile before the snow melts and the plants burst through the soil again.  In the mean time I get up, go to work, make supper and do the laundry.

I can't tell if it's depression or fatigue or stress.  Or maybe it's all three.  A ménage a trois of distress:)

It will pass, eventually.  Time to make supper.

Wednesday, 16 January 2019

This is what it looked like on the weekend.  Sunny.  Nice.  Today is a crap day so I thought I would share some of the things that get said at work, by me and by my patients.

"I have a good kind of cancer."  Patient.

"You're an over achiever."  Me to a patient with three completely different kinds of cancer.

"I have six children, well, no, seven.  I adopted my great grandson when he was a month old.  He's nine now."  An eighty-four year old patient.

"Where would you like to shit?  I  mean sit!"  Me to a patient in a packed waiting room.  Everyone laughed, thank goodness.  I have no idea where shit came from.

"I have the JBL gene."  A patient said.  I had no idea what that gene was.  "Just bad luck", she told me.

"Why do patients have to pay for parking anyway?"  Patient to me.  I agree.  I told him, "It's not like you come here for your health."  But it is.  They don't come because they want to.  They have no choice.  The patient laughed.  He was frustrated yesterday because one of our two scanners went down and there was a two hour wait for scans at times.

"You have twenty minutes to live."  Me to a patient.  What I meant to say is that you have twenty minutes to drink down to this line on the cup.  WTF!

"Before I started coming here I thought it would be a depressing place but it's not."  Patient.

"Can I have vodka in my drink?"  Patient.  "Maybe, I'll check.  Usually the nurses drink it all first thing in the morning."  Me.

"The drinks are on the house!"  Me.

Awhile back I had a young man who told me he faints sometimes when he has an IV put in.  I put in his IV, no problem but before he stood up I wanted to make sure that he was okay so I asked him, "Are you going to go down on me?"  It's hard to embarrass me but I did it that day.

"I like anal."  Said very loudy by a lovely, sweet young co-worker who was trying to say she liked anal retentive people, because they're tidy.

"I'm ready to die."  Patient.

"My wife died of mesothelioma.  I brought the asbestos home on my clothes and she washed them."  Patient who also has mesothelioma.

"I've never done this before but I've always wanted to try."  Me to a patient as I start his IV.

"I'm so sorry."  Me.

"That sucks."  Me.

"I love my patients."  Me.

Thursday, 10 January 2019

It's nice to see some blue sky today.  It's been a tough week at work and I'm thankful I'm off today.  On Tuesday I spent three hours scrubbed in, wearing lead, assisting one of our rads to put a port in a patient's arm.  We had one port, no spares, no mistakes.  The second port that was ordered didn't show up in time.  Thanks Bard.

So of course a mistake was made but the rad I was working with fixed it.  Three hours is a long time to spend wearing a lead apron though.  It was exhausting but satisfying.

Tuesday morning before I scrubbed in for the arm port, a patient's husband ripped me a new one over the phone.  The sad part is, I didn't disagree with him.  He was right.  We had screwed up everything and nothing had gone as planned for his wife's biopsy.  His wife is on a blood thinner and we couldn't get her INR down.  It's technical I know but that part wasn't our fault.  All of the stuff we did trying to make arrangements for the biopsy were fucked up.  After hours of work, many phone calls, lots of running around from department to department for advice and supplies, we finally got the biopsy done yesterday.  I was with the lady off and on for ten hours yesterday.  A lovely lady who seems to know that she is already dying.  I was thankful we were able to get the biopsy done but to be honest, in the long run, the biopsy results aren't really going to make much of a difference.  Her cancer has already spread to her bones.  So exhausting but not really satisfying.  I did apologize to the lady for all the delays in getting her biopsy done and she accepted my apology with dignity.

Then on the way home there was a broken water main which seems to happen when it's cold and dark.  Took us forever to get home but we made it.

It's January.  Nothing good ever seems to happen in January.  It's cold and dark, although the sun has managed to drag it's ass over the horizon and is shining through the windows now.

Time to climb on my exercise bike and exorcise my demons.  I'm watching The Marvelous Mrs. Maisel and I love it.  It know it's not real but watching strong, brave young women give me strength as well.  I suppose I was stronger than I realize when I was young.  I wouldn't marry my boyfriend when I found out I was pregnant, even though everyone wanted me to.  I put myself through nursing school.  I moved to a new city after graduating, even though I was terrified.  I found love at the ripe old age of forty-nine, a love that accepts me as I am.  I am enough for the big guy and that still fills me with wonder.  

Thursday, 3 January 2019

I get tired of feeling so much.  I know it's depression but sometimes it feels like there are no barriers between me and the rest of the world.  All the grief in my world settles on my skin, dragging me down.  And I get so tired of feeling like a failure and a disappointment.

I needed a reminder today that I am not alone.


You do not have to be good.
You do not have to walk on your knees
For a hundred miles through the desert, repenting.
You only have to let the soft animal of your body
love what it loves.
Tell me about your despair, yours, and I will tell you mine.
Meanwhile the world goes on.
Meanwhile the sun and the clear pebbles of the rain
are moving across the landscapes,
over the prairies and the deep trees,
the mountains and the rivers.
Meanwhile the wild geese, high in the clean blue air,
are heading home again.
Whoever you are, no matter how lonely,
the world offers itself to your imagination,
calls to you like the wild geese, harsh and exciting —
over and over announcing your place
in the family of things.