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.