Goodbye 2012. You kinda sucked.

2012 - what an arse of a year.

Downs > ups, stress, illness, family problems, men problems… sigh.

I seriously cannot wait for midnight December 31 to roll around. Next year will bring some big decisions for me. I am usually loathe to change my ways, but I know I need this to move on, move up. I’m kind of looking forward to it J

Happy New Year everyone. May 2013 bring you much happiness and fulfilment.

A tragedy on my holiday. Well, it was for me.

Who's been a slack blogger then, hey? Oops.

I managed to wrestle some time off out of my boss, and I've spent the last week at glorious Mooloolaba, one of my favourite places. It's been good to take some time out alone and just think, walk, swim and read. I feel soothed mentally which is what I really needed.

On Thursday afternoon I had the most wonderful massage. I almost floated back to my room, and I'd not been back long when I heard an almighty thud that seemed to reverberate through the unit. I stuck my head out on the 8th floor balcony... then I froze.

A beautiful rainbow lorikeet was lying on the ground, blood pooling from its beak, twitching ever so slightly. I could tell from the angle it was lying that it had broken its neck, presumably from flying into my glass balcony doors. It was feebly opening and closing its mouth, trying to sqwark, trying to cry for help from its flying mates, I don't know. I sat with it, stroking it, attempting to console it while its eyes glazed over. It died fairly quickly, but it was too long, painfully long.

I started bawling and couldn't stop. This poor little bird, just doing what it did every day, killed by something as stupid as a door. I cradled it for a while. Then I wondered what to do with its body. There was no way I could put it in a rubbish bag. I couldn't bear to think of a living thing being thrown away like that. When it was dark, I took it with me down towards the beach and buried it in one of the gardens nearby.

Maybe it was silly of me. It was just a bird, not a pet, just some random animal that happened to die near me. I don't know that anyone else would have done the same. But at least I felt better in myself that I'd given this creature a proper goodbye.

The heartbreaking thing? Today, there was another rainbow lorikeet sitting on the railing above where my bird died. I think it was its mate. It didn't fly away when I approached it. Just sat and looked at me, and at the bloodstain on the ground I hadn't washed off yet. Even now, I feel such sadness for these lovely birds. Maybe I'm just a big sook.

Farewell, my little friend x

Life is like... a game of Tetris?

Long time, no blog post.
Today I am off to one of my favourite places, Melbourne.
My life is feeling a little bit like a game of Tetris at the moment. All the pieces, each a chunk of something, some aspect of my life. Everything up in the air, me trying to juggle and defy gravity just a little bit longer, willing everything to slot into place.
I know life isn't meant to be perfect. I'm hoping the time away from Brisbane will give me some perspective, and to sound cliched, renewal.
Until then, ciao baby.

Movember! AKA Physical contact famine month

Today marks the beginning of November or Movember, the month of raising awareness for prostate cancer mainly, but also male mental health issues.
It is a terrific cause, the fundraising is very successful, and it has a huge media profile.
I don't know about other women out there, but personally I am not a facial hair fan. I suffer from pash rash anywhere, and it's rather uncool and hurty. So unfortunately, the 11th month will be my month of starvation from physical contact.* Not that I'm seeing any action anyway, but yaknow, in theory.
Is there an alternative where women can donate to keep some men free from the fuzz? 'Coz I'd totally be in that.**

* Unless the person in question is facial-hair-free.
** Not that I have anyone in mind. Hypothetically speaking.

Please ignore me. I like it.

*It's from 'The Breakfast Club'.
But still true :)
 

It's 10 on Monday morning in the land that time forgot, aka Queensland. The land where daylight saving is a big scary monster that will disturb cows, fade curtains and create so much havoc that we must not even entertain the idea of its introduction. Besides, it's so much nicer being 30 degrees at 5am is it not? I actually saw the sunrise this morning, at 459am. (It's not even summer yet; have I mentioned no daylight saving in Qld?!).

But I digress. I'm trying to kill time until my shift starts late this afternoon. I appear to be in a communication black hole right now. People aren't replying to my emails or texts. I haven't said or done anything to be worthy of getting snubbed. I'm not a needy person, but it really feels a bit horrible. I need a hug :(

New directions. Maybe.

While I was on my self imposed Twitter ban, I worked on developing my ideas bank for writing. And it was a little... surprising.
I'm now thinking of establishing another blog that's anon. The concepts are a bit out there, and  I don't want to feel like I'm censoring myself with what I'm writing (like I do sometimes on here) because people know it's ME.
Depending on how it goes, maybe I'll want to reveal it later, but I'm a bit excited to see how it might evolve for now.

opinions and social media

It seems that the self absorbed, narrow minded masses have insidiously infiltrated my world.
I'd taken a break from Twitter which I was fairly heavily involved in and really enjoyed being a part of, mainly because I had been so sick and stressed with work recently. I'd been dropping in now and again to see what was happening in the lives of friends and some of the more interesting folk I'd had the pleasure to come across and interact with online.

I'm so disappointed and disillusioned with people's attitudes and beliefs about things lately. Politics clearly is the main one - I'm not even going to start on that because my rant will never end. But it's not just that topic. I'm loathe to jump on and debate them because I value their friendship and I suspect doing that might change it. But now I'm wondering did I ever really know these people at all?

Shutdown

I've basically cut myself off from everyone while I've been sick.
No Twitter, Facebook, contact with friends. My mum and my sister are pretty much the only people I've spoken to.

APART from he-who-must-not-be-named, or LAEB (loser arsed ex-boyfriend) from much older blog posts. I don't know what it is about him, he just seems to pop up like a some fucking annoying jack-in-the-box toy that you thought was broken and had died, but then SURPRISE! it springs open to hit you in the face.

I am a very nice person, probably too nice, and especially not feeling the best I wasn't enthused about being a bitch to him on the phone. It was fortunate that I lost my voice at one point so I was spared the communication.

Suffice to say, he has not changed in the least. The best thing I can say is that he has refined my want/don't-want-in-a-gentleman list.

But for now..

Back on the horse? So to speak

Errmerrrgerd.
I am pissed.
My neighbours are playing the most shitful party music I've ever heard. "Jack Jack Jackie" WTF?!
I'd really really really like to say how I feel about someone but I don't have the guts. Things are useless anyway.
Instead, I am updating revamping my ancient online dating profile.
This shit is crazy.

YES. Take note, boys.

My blergh for today

Yes, I've been a pain in the arse and whingy and woe-is-me. But I'm sick. And I don't like it. So I'm staying away from people-I-can-touch people, Twitter, Facebook, pretty much everyone and everything. Except my mother, who won't stop calling me. I'm tempted to croak the lyrics of Lady Gaga's 'Telephone' down the line at her next time.

So my darling blog readers, how few of you there are, you cop the brunt of my whinging. If you're still reading that is.

Calling like a collector, sorry I cannot answer!!

What's bugging me today?

* Having to ring in sick for work when you have no voice. I KID YOU NOT.

* One painful, tender left calf. Convinced I have a DVT now from my trip to Perth. Even though I arrived back 12 days ago. It's not swollen. And I have no other risk factors.
IT'S A DVT I TELL YOU.

* It's the beginning of October and it's 32 degrees in Brisbane. 32. No, just no. Give me Melbourne or Hobart's chilly 13 degrees today instead. I DON'T WANT TO WEAR SINGLETS YET.

* It's Bathurst 1000 weekend. Crazy big car race for those not in the know - link here. Somebody that I used to know (who I said I'd never mention again on this blog) was very fond of the car stuff. Thus, I'm trying to avoid it as much as I can. I AM EMOTIONAL ENOUGH RIGHT NOW THANK YOU UNIVERSE.

Is there some weird astrological thing happening that's making me a bit crazy right now? I know it's not hormone related. I hope these ranty cranky-pants posts don't continue much longer. I'll go and look for something positive or pretty to blog about when I'm feeling better. Until then, hang in there with me. I'm really quite nice in real life normally...

Wallowing

Is there any positive side to being ill? Apart from time off work of course.
I imagine it's probably quite comforting and almost nice if you have someone in your life to look after you, or at least someone who cares enough that they're checking you haven't died during your convalescence. Maybe cook you stuff if you're lucky.

I need a hug.

I miss having this. Being at home sick right now is making me extra sooky. My parents offered for me & the cats to go and stay with them until I've recovered. It sounds really pathetic how tempted I am to take them up on it. Wah!

Sick sick sick

I hate being sick. I really really do. And I am one of those annoying people who will still go to work until they are just about ready to collapse (*except if I am infectious - that's just stupid spreading germs around in a hospital).

Felt like hell yesterday; I think every staff member told me I looked that way too.
So I am on sick leave, which is probably a good idea since I'm so lethargic I can barely get out of bed. Thank god for laptops and iPads and iPhones.

Anyway, I took some medication last night and whoa, spin out. Never had such a reaction to just Panadeine Forte before. I was watching The Big Lebowski, and I was in a total haze. It's a bizarre movie anyway, but I felt like a zombie. Then I couldn't get The Dude out of my head the rest of the night.

You always come across people at the hospital who just WON'T take any OTC medications whatsoever whenever they're sick. That's kind of silly. That's what they're there for, why suffer if you don't have to? But I think I'll be sticking to my Aspalgin only after that experience.

Telling stories

A friend of mine has released a book - her nursing memoirs. It's great. It's witty, gross, teary. I'm extremely happy for her success.

It had me thinking - I have so many stories from my time in emergency. Funny, crazy, tragic, scary, everything. I remember so many things. People, situations, feelings. I know I can write about them. But would anyone want to read them? Kristy's book kind of says yes, but I'm just not confident.

Emergency nursing has changed my life, more than I ever though nursing was possible. I guess I don't want to feel like I'm diminishing its importance in my life, or the people who've changed it, by talking about it. So I'm
banking experiences, ideas, pondering.

I saw this tweet a little while ago - I've no idea who 'Redheaded Pharmacist' is, but this is so true.
 

At 3/4 time

So, October already. 3/4 of the year gone. And I feel as if I've achieved so little.

Re-evaluation time. I need a leave of absence from social media for a while; feeling too tangled up (in Twitter mainly right now) than is healthy for me.

I'll endeavour to blog or at least write for myself over the next month, and try to regain some sense of direction.

Thanks for reading. It means a lot.

I'm at a place called vertigo...

I woke up this morning with a terrible case of vertigo. It was a little scary. I get dizzy fairly regularly, but that tends to be a hypotension related thing for me.
Anyway, today I literally could not do anything 'normal' without feeling like I was going to keel over, and had to stay in bed until I had to get up to go to work.

Naturally, I had to check out the details of this medical condition to freak myself out a little more. And I went straight for the sinister causes. Woohoo.

A number of conditions that involve the central nervous system may lead to vertigo including: lesions caused by infarctions or hemorrhage, tumor, epilepsy, cervical spine disorders, degeneration, migraine headaches, lateral medullary syndrome, multiple sclerosis, parkinsonism, as well as cerebral dysfunction.^[8] Central vertigo may not improve or may do so more slowly than vertigo caused by disturbance to peripheral structures.
Courtesy of http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Vertigo
 

Yay. But I did find out that it's actually pretty common. What I was experiencing was "pseudovertigo" - an intensive sensation of rotation inside the patient's head. It is unpleasant and a bit freaky. And it has resulted in me having Vic Reeves & The Wonder Stuff's song "Dizzy" stuck in my head all morning.

Enjoy :)

Balls and all

There always seems to be floods of particular ailments appearing at the hospital. Normally it’d be something like abdominal pain, back strains or pregnancy related problems. I had the, ahem, privilege of being the primary nurse for a collection of testicular related issues this week.

Obviously, being deficient in possessing these appendages myself makes me somewhat lacking in appreciating their intricacies. But I have a pretty good idea of how they are supposed to look and behave, and these dudes and their testicles needed to be in emergency. Lucky me.

One older gentleman (I use the term very loosely) took great pleasure in flashing his genital area to almost everyone walking past his cubicle. I think only our wardsmen were spared the peepshow. The poor nursing students on prac in the department were quite traumatised.

Then there was the slightly odd young man… I don’t quite understand how you can get your balls caught lifting a piece of timber off the floor, unless it was sans underwear and he was attempting the hoist weightlifting-style, but hey I didn’t really want such a detailed description. What I found perplexing was that:

1. It happened nearly a week ago.
2. Both testicles were bigger than tennis balls and quite very much the wrong colour.
3. He was insistent that he was in 10 out of 10 agonising pain the whole time. **
4. He still managed to have sex with his girlfriend on multiple occasions since the injury. (He was not shy about sharing that!)

** "How much pain are you in?". My description of the pain scale to patients is quite clear. Imagine that zero is no pain at all; 10 is like having one of your limbs ripped off and being beaten over the head with it. Pretty straightforward I think.

And there were sooo many more. I will never complain about doing workups for 'boring' bouts of chest pain or urinary tract infections ever again.

* This may be a slight exaggeration as to the extent of swelling.

Nightmares

I very very rarely have bad dreams about things that happen at work. I can recall 2 or 3 things that have stuck & affected me over the years. Until yesterday.
The badness of someone has shaken me. And I'm not sure how much more of these kinds of things I can see without it changing me into a different person completely.
Does this mean it's time to get out?

Farewell

It is just past 10pm, and I am sitting at departure gate at Perth airport, waiting to go home.
I always feel a bit melancholy when a trip finishes, because it is like having a mini adventure, and I don't like endings.
I've had a lovely time here in W.A. I didn't get to see or do all of the things that I wanted to, but it is somewhere I can certainly see myself returning to.
In the meantime, I will slyly continue to spy on my fellow passengers and pray that none of them (apart from the nerdy sexy looking guy reading something on his iPad) are sitting near me...

The blind date update

So I just realised that I never did an addit about the 'date' a little while ago.
It went pretty well I thought. He was charming, and seemed interested given that he suggested a followup outing on the weekend before we parted ways. I even heard from him the next day.
Then... nothing. It's been nearly 2 weeks. Zilch. Yes, I have contacted him in this time with no reply. What is wrong with people?!
If you're really not interested, just fucking say so! It's not that hard. And I'd have more respect for you for doing that than being rude and ignoring me.

* Maybe I have unrealistic expectations about manners and honesty in other people. An ex once told me I was 'too emotional' because I was open about how I felt. Pfft. I'd rather be that way than completely closed off. Mind you, this is the same ex that went berko and stalkery when he found out I was seeing someone else and was begging for a second chance. Yeah. No.
** I have developed a bad track record with men with the first initial P. This is about number 4 I think. P's I am going to have to avoid like the plague. Or pertussis.

It's bad poetry Friday :(

Feeling somewhat morose about a situation, so here's some bad poetry to bring you down to my level of blergh right now. You're welcome.

****************

Unwanted feelings

Rebound to my heart again.

The story repeats.

In round-a-bout hell,

Forever turning circles.

I need to escape.

Fatigued beyond words,

Soul taking a battering.

Bruises can't be disguised.

The (mini) escape

As perverted as it may sound, sitting for close to 6 hours on a plane sounds pretty sweet to me. I've just worked 9 days on in a row, and I wanted to spend my lengthy stint of days off (5! As opposed to my regular 2!) away somewhere, doing something relatively holiday-like, rather than staying home. I like my place a lot, but it wouldn't have felt like a proper break to me, and that's what I really need right now.

It's been 4 or so months since I've returned from long service leave. It feels like years ago. I don't dislike work as much as I did before I went, but I feel more frustrated with it than I did, and I find it hard to hide it as much, which I think some of my colleagues find confusing.  Since I am usually such a level headed, even-tempered person, no one really gets my level of dissatisfaction and annoyance with the place, and certain patients and staff this time around.

So I am taking a trip. Fremantle in Western Australia is where I am headed for a couple of days. I'm excited to see somewhere unfamiliar and be in a place where I don't know anyone (well, I sort of know one person, but that's a whole other story)...

Imma heading *somewhere* here...!
 

 

Random stuff I thought of today

A few things that popped into my head today and stuck:

1) Buying more expensive pots and pans will not prevent you from burning things in them. 

2) If you're caring for an unpleasant patient / handling their relative at some point, the odds are very very good that you will not only see them again, but 
a. Be allocated to look after them;
b. They will not remember you at all; and 
c. They will behave just as badly the next time around. 
Joy!

3) Finding out that a frequent flier has died on your days off will still make you sad, even though they were abusive and a bit of a jerk a lot of the time.

4) You will still drink the godawful coffee that work supply because that's all there is, and breaks are too short to be able to go and buy one.

5) Sour apple flavoured Slurpees are pretty ace.

Because Monday's aren't hideous enough, let's add a blind date!

In other news this Monday...
I have agreed to go on one of these this evening.

blind date

n.

1. A social engagement between two persons who have not previously met, usually arranged by a mutual acquaintance.

2. Either of the persons participating in such a social engagement.

The American Heritage® Dictionary of the English Language, Fourth Edition copyright ©2000 by Houghton Mifflin Company. Updated in 2009. Published by Houghton Mifflin Company. All rights reserved.

 

It's been a while. My own fault. After my last experience, I wasn't that keen to try and navigate this universe again. I've never found it to be a particularly fun venture. Honestly, it is so much work and a bit stressful. Second guessing yourself, did I say the right thing, should I call, why haven't I heard from him, argh!

I do like a uniform. And I can do the earnest look.
But I don't think a nun's life is for me.

Having said that, the life of a nun does not appeal. In any way. But the one person I am interested in is not close by, nor do I know what they really think of me. So I'm apprehensive about taking a risk.

Hence, I will be having drinks +/- dinner with Mr Not-Quite-A-Stranger and hoping I don't vomit with nervousness beforehand. Or during - I'm pretty sure that would ruin things...

Death and the media

Today (allegedly) an Australian sports player died on an overseas trip. Media, both mainstream and social appear to be falling over themselves to be the first to post the gory details & identify the person.

I really don't understand this fascination with the death of 'famous' people, or any death deemed 'worthy' of making the news. As someone who has seen more dead and dying people than one should have to, and been with their grieving families at times, it really has me stumped.

It's never nice; rarely welcomed. It should be private thing. If it were a family member of mine, the last thing I would want is seeing it in the media, especially so soon after the event.

My cousin died in an accident a few months ago. It was news. And it was awful seeing my relatives, even though they weren't immediate family, on television at the scene.

I know this practice is not going to change. It's big news. 'The public would want to know.' Perhaps the majority do. But to me, there's enough sadness and bad things happening in the world to absorb other people's suffering as well.

Stress is poison. ~ Agavé Powers

How do you know when you are done with something?

Waiting for an epiphany which may never come.

I know I am not my usual self, but I thought I was still doing alright. Until someone today noticed and I nearly burst into tears.

What I would like is for something or someone to take the decision out of my hands, and soon.

Spring cleaning part 1 - sizing & self love

I started my spring cleaning slightly early this year, and I decided to tackle what I thought would be the easiest area first – my clothes.

What I discovered is that I have 4 different clothing sizes in my wardrobe. And all of them fit me.  

Tonight, I went to a nursing colleague's book launch. My whole outfit was size 12 – skirt, top, jacket. I felt fucking fantastic. I really did. But I know that when I go to work tomorrow, it will be in a size 14 top and probably 16 pants, and it will make me feel horrible.

I had lap band surgery nearly 5 years ago now, which I’ve spoken about in a previous blog post. It was a godsend for me, and it was something I wish I had done years ago. I don’t talk about it much; I’ve lost friendships because of it and the generally negative reaction I’ve had when I’ve disclosed it isn’t worth the angst to me.

I lost a lot of weight, some of which I’ve put back on in the last year. I know this, and I know why I have. Yet I’m being told by well meaning people that I look “too comfortable” now and how fantastic I looked “before”. Great. Thanks.

Tonight: size 12



Tomorrow: size 16?

I hate that a size has such an effect on how I feel about myself, and that I let it. I thought I was over all this shit pre-op. No one likes an insecure person. Hell, I don’t like it in myself. It’s an insignificant thing to be worrying about in the grand scheme of things, I know. I refuse to resort to cutting the tags off my clothes!

 



A confession: I don't adore Ryan Gosling

What is the fascination with Ryan Gosling?

The other night, I stumbled across Blue Valentine on Foxtel, the movie he stars in with Michelle Williams. I’d seen it before. He is very good in it, as is she. But as I was watching, I started thinking about the mass appeal he seems to have with women – and wondered why he doesn’t do anything for me.

There are thousands of fan sites, tumblrs, memes, even a colouring book dedicated to Mr Gosling. Even what I consider the ‘mummy site’ Mamamia has a quite a bit of Gosling-related content – for example .

Yes he’s attractive. Yes he’s a pretty good actor, despite some of the schmaltzy movies he’s been in (The Notebook anyone?). He apparently loves children and animals and rescues people in his spare time. He seems kind of perfect.

Everyone should be drooling over him, right? I don’t know one woman who isn’t, except me. Maybe my wiring is faulty. It doesn’t really bother me; I know everyone has different tastes. But when he appeals to 99.9% and I’m in the 0.1%, I feel a little… odd.

Sympathy is for the devil

How does sympathy towards someone’s recent troubles translate to romantic interest?

Big quandary of mine at the moment. An ex (previously referred to in this blog as LAEB, the loser-arsed ex boyfriend) and I crossed paths in the course of my work, and it was something serious. I was concerned and maybe it came across as being overly kind. But that’s the kind of person I am.

Anyway, he has interpreted this as ‘I want to see you again’. It’d been a long long time since I’d seen or heard from him, and had no intention of continuing any sort of friendship for various reasons. I’ve said I’m not interested; he’s well in the past to me. But he’s a terrible listener.

I don’t want to have to be a bitch and tell him to piss off & leave me alone, just because I know what he might do. Short of ignoring texts or calls, or being dishonest and saying I’m involved with someone else, I don’t know how to solve this painlessly. And it’s starting to make me anxious.

*I am not Ramona Flowers, and I don't have 7 evil exes. 1 evil one is bad enough.

Really nurse, it's nothing much...

** Warning: medical content **

I see a lot of rubbish things come into emergency. I realise that everyone has their own definition of 'serious' and what needs medical attention, but things like papercuts should not be on anyone's list.

I wasn't thinking anything except a slight annoyance when a gentleman came up to the triage window stating he had a cut or scratch on the back of his leg. Of course, you can't see jack below the patient's waist from the triage window, so I asked him to come through so I could have a proper look.

The plastic bag tied around his lower leg with a shoelace should have twigged something more with me, especially when on questioning he said he hadn't wanted to get the blood in his car. Okayeee..

So then I started unwrapping the layers.
Plastic bag x 2.
Teatowel tied with another shoelace. Kind of bloody.
Another teatowel, another shoelace. Even more bloody.
Face washer. Secured with a PET COLLAR.
By now I was more than a bit incredulous and wtf-like.

Me: What is this?
Him: It's a cat collar. It's new, it's not been used so it's okay.
Me: Uhh... why?
Him: Well I couldn't find anything else.

By now, everything is blood soaked. Big time. Blood's not a problem, I can deal with that. But if this is just a scratch, I'm Florence Nightingale.
The last layer was a paper towel  held on with a big wad of sticky tape.
I'm thinking, I can't *wait* to see this 'scratch'.

The towelling comes off. Instantly, the artery on the back of his leg that has somehow been nicked starts spurting blood in time with his heart beat. A lovely, juicy arterial bleed.

I swore. Quite loudly.

How he hadn't noticed the pulsating vessel I have no idea. But thank god he did come to hospital with his 'scratch'. I'll still roll my eyes at people with papercuts, but the next scratch I won't believe until I see it.

Scratch

Not a scratch

Earworms

I tend to get songs stuck in my head often. I listen to music a lot; my life wouldn't be complete without it. Once upon a time I played a few musical instruments, but gave it up late in high school because I was so fixated on my studies and getting into uni that I didn't have the time to devote to practicing. I regret that now, but I figure you don't forget how to read music and one day I'm sure I will take it up again as a hobby.

But for now, it's purely listening rather than playing pleasure. A line, a verse of a lyric, or a portion of melody will just resonate with me, and then it sinks its tentacles into my brain for a while. Until another song attracts me.

Right now, it is Talking Heads 'The Lady Don't Mind'. Why this song? The lyrics describe a wee bit of my thoughts lately. And you can sing along to it :)

Death again. Sorry.

My cousin died today. I won't blather on about it because frankly I'm not in the frame of mind to do so right now. He was a teenager. He died tragically. I guess any child's death would be classed as tragic. But it was an accident. He was found by his mother, who wasn't able to revive him. I learnt of the news in the morning, then spent the rest of the day dodging the tv and online news reports. Given the amount of trauma I see in my line of work, I'd never really given much thought to news reporting of such things. Today, the inaccuracies and intrusiveness behind it really got to me. Public interest and all that, yeah I get it. But decorum didn't seem a priority. I know journalists are just doing their jobs. As are the police, ambos, doctors, nurses, etc who attend to such deaths. I've lost count of the number of families & deaths I've dealt with, of whatever cause, in hospital. My perspective has now changed. I can only hope this has made me a more compassionate nurse, however the short time longer I may be doing this job. RIP Liam.

The work bag inventory

It's generally accepted that women like to spend money on 'girly things' like shoes or clothes. My girliness is limited to bags. I have a few. Not an obscene number or expensive collection, but some nice ones. A few I bought in Italy, some I've just saved for over the years.

I consider it a waste for them to sit in the cupboard and only be trotted out for special things. I try to use all of mine, so I change the bag I take to work every week. Tonight was empty out the old to pack the new.

As many nurses could probably tell you, our work bags are filled with a fair bit of nursing related stuff. Surprisingly, mine wasn't too bad (this time).

Tonight's contents:
- wallet
- random 5 cent piece
- headphones (sometimes you just need to listen to something other than chatter in the tearoom)
- a 22G needle (no clue why that was there)
- book I'm reading at the moment
- notebook
- roll of micropore tape (indispensible)
- hair stuff
- perfume
- stethoscope (can never usually find one on the floor when you need it, so I always bring mine)
- glasses
- chewing gum (I'm a coffee fiend, and short of bringing a toothbrush to work, gum is the next best thing for coffee breath)
- brochure for some security bus program
- hand cream (hand washing +++ = dry hands)
- lanyard with ID and pair of scissors #1
- pair of scissors #2
- 4 pens (I usually lose 1 a shift, so it pays to have spares. Qld Health is stingy with pens)
- 5 lipsticks (I have no clue why so many. I just forget they're in there)

What's not there that would normally be:
- my iphone
- diary

I think this is pretty good. My challenge to myself this week will be to cull the lipsticks & scissors :)

A lonely death

A patient died tonight.

Not unusual in a big hospital like mine, especially after the trauma this person experienced.

Normally it wouldn’t really be given a second thought once the shift had ended.

People just die. Sometimes naturally, sometimes unexpectedly.

My thoughts have stayed with this one gentleman tonight.

Why? He wasn’t special. He wasn’t anyone. In fact, we had no idea of his identity. But he died prematurely and unpleasantly. There was no one to say goodbye. No one knew he was there. All he had in the world this evening were our ED staff, the Police and the Coroner.

Does it matter? I hope it does. It does to me. I don’t want to think of him waiting for someone to claim his body days or weeks or forever down the track.

People don’t like to think of death. It’s scary. It’s final. It might be painful. This man’s death was ugly and most probably avoidable. I wouldn’t wish that on anyone.

I don’t know what kind of person this man was. Ultimately it doesn’t really matter. I just hope he gets to be farewelled by people who loved him. And if that sounds twee, too bad. I'd rather care about what happens to people I don't know than lose my empathy altogether.

Dutton Park cemetery

 

What makes you happy?

I've been back at work almost 2 weeks now. After such a long break, I was almost dreading my return. The shifts have been up and down, but all I really feel is this huge indifference.

I know that there are aspects of the job that I like, but generally I'm lacking in enthusiasm and in some sort of void when I'm there.

Which leads me to the question - what do I do now?

In a perfect world, something that I love. Nursing is not that anymore.

I am not in despair over this. Things change. I desire things that I never imagined I'd even be thinking about a few years ago. I want something else out of life.

But I can't help feeling that I'd be throwing something good, something reliable away. That I'm just being selfish. How do I know this isn't just a phase?

Right now, I can't answer that. So I'm wishing on some sort of sign to point the way. Ever the dreamer.

RIP Ray Bradbury

I learned this evening that the author Ray Bradbury had passed away, aged 91.

I was moved to write a blog post, simply because Fahrenheit 451 had such a profound effect on me as a child. I remember seeing the movie on television when I was quite young, and the horror and fascination of the story, and the burning of all the beautiful books stayed with me until I was old enough to read the novel.

Fahrenheit 451 was really the first 'modern classic' literature I was exposed to, and for that I will be forever grateful to the author.

RIP Ray.

This is *not* National Lampoon's Vacation :(

I have a bit over a week of leave left, and I feel like I am more fucked up about things than ever. Sorry, more muddled.

When I started holidays, I was keen to get away from the nursing world for a while and think about whether it was something I wanted to continue doing. As time went on, I made peace of sorts with some of the issues surrounding my wanting to leave the profession. But now, I am almost dreading going back.

I feel it’s more than just the notion of going back to ‘work’ in general. What can I do about it? Seriously, for the last week I’ve been contemplating increasingly outlandish ideas; about shaking my life up in major ways. I know there are more than my feelings about work that are causing this instability.

For someone who is supposed to be so sensible, my brain has been left to atrophy while I jumped into something personal that was unique and brilliant, but ultimately doomed. So now I get to feel miserable about that, while I try to cope with what feels like a mid-life crisis at 36. If there is any connection, however tenuous, between my head and my heart, it needs to be severed now before my feelings mess me up any more.

The Book Of Nurses

It is International Nurses Week beginning May 6.
A wonderful nurse from the ACT runs the website ImpactedNurse, and he initiated a 'Book Of Nurses' to showcase the diversity of people around the world in the profession.
I decided to submit my story to the site. Today, I was the 'star'.
Have a read.
The Book Of Nurses: Rebecca

A musical memory

I had a blast of nostalgia today. The Brisbane International Film Festival is having a short ‘drive-in’ season this month, and I received an email advertising the documentary Under African Skies, which is about the making of Paul Simon’s Graceland album and the 25 year anniversary of its release.

The blurb:
The story behind the recording of Paul Simon's Graceland album is revisited in Joe Berlinger's latest documentary. Don't miss the politics - Simon allegedly broke the UN cultural boycott of South Africa - and the music - featuring Miriam Makeba, Ladysmith Black Mambazo, Quincy Jones, Whoopi Goldberg and David Byrne.

The trailer:

I have such powerful memories surrounding this album. It was released in 1986; I was 10 at the time. I remember Dad bringing home the Graceland record one day (yes, we had lots of vinyl!). Dad was a big music fan and had a pretty varied collection, everything from Cream to Bruce Springsteen. I’d heard Paul Simon before with Simon and Garfunkel, but when he put Graceland on, it blew my 10 year old mind.

I’d never heard anything remotely like it. I knew very little about apartheid in South Africa and the trouble that eventuated with Simon recording with black musicians in the country. All I knew was that these sounds, these wonderful singers and drummers and rhythms were out of this world. As I’ve gotten older I can appreciate lyrics more, and Paul Simon really is such a wonderful lyricist. How can you go past snippets like these –

Graceland
She comes back to tell me she's gone
As if I didn't know that
As if I didn't know my own bed
As if I'd never noticed the way she brushed her hair from her forehead

Diamonds On The Soles Of Her Shoes
The poor boy changes his clothes and puts on aftershave
to compensate for his ordinary shoes

I still know all the songs, can sing all the lyrics. It’s hard to clarify, but listening to this album kind of makes my heart sing a little bit. It is that beautiful to me. And not a lot of music is capable of doing that anymore.

Full moon fever

This is going to sound like a bit of a messy post, and it is sorry. It's all crazy lunar related. Later this evening (Thursday 8 March), there will be an exact Full Moon into Virgo. A lot of people think astrology is a load of crap, and to each their own. I know in myself how my moods and my focus differs based on what is happening with these cycles. This week has been pretty intense; lots of peeps around me have been going a bit bats. I am feeling it, but trying not to react with certain things that have been hitting heavy. It is all supposed to 'settle down' once the moon heads into Libra on Friday afternoon - that's assuming everyone makes it to that point with their sanity intact. I just keep getting told 'be patient', 'don't push anything', 'a sign is coming' blah blah blah. Yeah ok, I can deal with that.

What I'm not so sure I'm dealing with is the re-emergence of someone from the past. I worked really hard to try and forget about this person, and he seemingly appears at random. The hand of friendship is being offered. I want to take it because he is a good person who I thought highly of. But my gut is telling me that I'm not detached enough yet, and that I really won't be until I am no longer single. Why now? Why at all? I want to ask, but at the same time I feel like it is going to pull me in, especially now that I don't have work to distract me.
I'm really torn as to how I feel about this contact. Resolution needed asap please.

Counting down

Right now I feel as if I am in limbo land. I have 5 working days left until I go on leave, and they may well be my last days working as a nurse.

I don't hate my job, but I am lacking satisfaction, and I don't really see things improving enough to make me want to stay for much longer. I've had some unpleasant experiences in the past few months which has made me re-evaluate whether the security and money the job offers outweighs my general happiness and mental well-being. I don't think so anymore.

This time off is really going to be about me having some R & R, writing, travelling and thinking about my future. And I'm really pretty excited by this prospect.

Unveiling

Been going over some prose/general thoughts I had put down in the latter half of last year. At the time it felt like this diabolical and disastrous unravelling was going on in my life, although now it makes me cringe a little to think of how down I was about things. I wrote a few poems that my good friend published through her 'poetry of the day' list. It felt cathartic to get some of my emotions down on paper (and I was exclusively writing by hand, I found that it just wouldn't come if I sat and tried to type it).

Anyway, this is one of the less cringeworthy poems I wrote. Initially I had no plans to share this kind of writing of mine with anyone. I was embarrassed by how emotional I felt about the people I was writing about, and I suppose in some way I thought my ?thoughts ?ideas were a bit childish. However, I have found a lot of pleasure in writing again after a long long time, and while it may be awful, naive or amateurish, it's something I intend to keep working on purely as an outlet at the moment, maybe something more down the track. I am working up the courage to participate in one of the many open mic poetry slam gigs around Brisbane in the next few months, so making 'it' (even though it's just 1 poem for now) public is my start. And if you think it is shit, feel free to tell me. Feedback is feedback.

Cold shoulder

A depth of feeling that I cannot express

Used to be so eloquent with words

A virtual torrent of phrases

Fingers sore from the flow of consonants and vowels

Now my head swirls

A cesspool of letters

A torrent of words wanting to come out

But there is

no order

no reason

no sense

to be made of them

In my head I have had Oscar worthy speeches made

Booker Prize winning works on paper

But the few things expressed to you have been ignored

Now the growing wall of silence threatens to crush me forever.

33 Ways To Stay Creative

I have had this list stuck on the wall for a while now. I kind of just glance at it when I walk past now and not really read it anymore. Since this year is supposed to be bringing massive upheaval across the board in my life (according to astrologers anyway), I thought trying to flex my creativity was a start. So this list of '33 Ways To Stay Creative' will be getting a test from me. One list item a day, unless it is something blindingly obvious, like #9 - drink tea/coffee.  I might post about it, I might not. Without further ado, here be the list:

33 Ways To Stay Creative

1. Make lists

2. Carry a notebook everywhere

3. Try free writing

4. Get away from the computer

5. Be otherworldly

6. Quit beating yourself up

7. Take breaks

8. Sing in the shower

9.. Drink tea/coffee

10. Know your roots

11. Listen to new music

12. Be open

13. Surround yourself with creative people

14. Get feedback

15. Collaborate

16. Don't give up

17. Practice, practice, practice

18. Allow yourself to make mistakes

19. Go somewhere new

20. Watch foreign films

21. Count your blessings

22. Get lots of rest

23. Take risks

24. Break the rules

25. Do more of what makes you happy

26. Don't force it

27. Read a page of the dictionary

28. Create a framework

29. Stop trying to be someone else's perfect

30. Got an idea? Write it down

31. Clean your workspace

32. Have fun

33. Finish something

** Apologies to the original owner of this list. I can't remember where I got it from. When I do, I'll post the details.

Crossroads?

After a distressing shift in resus yesterday (Australia Day no less, when everyone else was seemingly drinking their weight in alcohol while listening to the Hottest 100), I think I have finally reached the point of burnout in emergency.

Critical care areas are, not surprisingly, the most stressful and pressurised areas to work in nursing. Emergency nurses don't tend to last beyond 12 months. This is my 6th year working in my Brisbane hospital's emergency department. I thought I was doing well. Normally I'm pretty unflappable; I might have a vent with co-workers about something that's happened, but I can leave it behind when it's time to go home.

Yesterday was seriously fucking awful. I can't say anything about the situation as it will be a media case at some point. My empathy is gone. How can I look afer people if I don't care, or don't like them for something they've done? Maybe I need to go and work in some quiet office, away from patients, doing staffing or bed allocations or some non-clinical stuff. What I do know is that my leave needs to start pronto. Only 35 days to go...

I'm just a bull. No bull.

I was pondering over my post from yesterday and wondering - do I sound like an obsessive freak?
I know I do think about things a lot, too much at times. But after the time it takes for me to trust and open up to someone, having to let go and 'forget' just seems that much more awful.

I read something on twitter today that kind of made me go 'whoa!'.
From @SexLoveScopes

Sweet, romantic #Taurus hate change, and you can't stand switching partners.

Breaking up leads you to become a ticking time bomb.

That sounds a bit harsh, but I suppose the unease and uncertainty means there is potential for things to turn bad if you don't handle them properly (by 'things' I am referring to your emotional state.) Which sort of relates to my post from yesterday and deciding when you should literally disconnect from someone to maintain your sanity. Last time, it put me in a funk for a lot longer than I should have been because I stewed far too long. I don't feel that I was a 'time bomb' but I wasn't myself, and I didn't like that. Aside from that, I quite like being a Taurean :-)