Hallowed Ween

This morning, I put on a bra for the first time this week. After five days, it was starting to feel like I was back in high school, bra-less, care-less, and kid-less. Except of course, for the care-less and kid-less part. For the last week I have been laying on the couch with the Hoodlums, watching endless Halloween movies, eating endless Halloween candy, and swatting at the spiders crawling on Dawson's face,(fever-induced hallucinations). It was a good time.

Today, most everyone felt somewhat human again, and since the sun was shining, we decided to get out of the house. We headed to Heber for some errands, and as we loaded up in Daveskins truck, I was excited to spend the day with him. We haven't had a Saturday together for several weeks, and I was looking forward to playing with him. Dawson wanted to know what we were doing for lunch, and I let him know that we would be trying a new place.

"What's the new place?"

"Tony's Tacos"

Wah, wah,..."Aw, I don't want Mexican."

"Well I've never been there before, so I don't even know if it is Mexican. It sounds more like a hamburger place to me."

He still isn't feeling a hundred percent, so that is far as the argument went, which was nice, since I have been eating chicken noodle soup for the last 10 meals because of him.

We decided to eat first, and I was pleasantly surprised to find the Tony's Tacos, is indeed a Mexican food establishment. Who knew? Actually I wouldn't call it an establishment; "dive" would be more fitting, but I am not a restaurant snob, and the food was delish. In my perfect world, the health food pyramid would resemble typical restaurant Mexican food. It would advise that the majority of nutrition would come from cheese, beans, lard, tortillas, sour cream and meat. The pyramid could also warn against using vegetables, that couldn't be made into condiments, i.e anything that wasn't salsa or guacamole..............Yes, this is what I daydream about.

After lunch, we made a special trip to Gram's, to trick-or-treat. Her yard is covered in leaves and the kids had a great time covering each other up with leaves, and then jumping into the pile. Somehow, a rake became involved and as Gram was giving me the 4-1-1 on this weeks' obits, I was distracted by metal tines flying by the window. Dave reluctantly excused himself from our death gab session, and went outside to supervise. Sometimes I feel like the Ghost Whisperer, in that, some people look at a rake and see a harmless garden tool. I see metal tines from the window, and think one of my children has probably impaled themselves, and then panic because the closest facility is the Heber Hospital(yikes), and what if they bleed out before we can get a helicopter, and what if I don't remember kid CPR, and ........ this is probably why I choose to daydream about guacamole.

We escaped Grams without any major abdominal trauma, although she did make us take some super iffy, "cookies", that given a few more days, might be full-fledged Penicillin. Daveskins dropped E.B. and I off at the front of Smith's to replenish our refrigerator, while he took the Boyz to find some birthday invitations for Dawson, and a dumpster for the green cookies. Em and I wandered around, and got some random provisions which only reiterated to me, that I should not go shopping without a list. At the check-out I got distracted by the Earth Conservation promo, and had the bagger put my groceries in the re-usable sacks. It was very fulfilling, and now if my great-great-grandkids don't have clean air, and they try to blame that on their ancestors. Well, they can bite me. I did my part.

I had no idea my biggest obstacle in saving the earth, would end up being Daveskins. When I pulled up to the truck, and he hopped out to load the goodies, he took one look at my new bags and rolled his eyes. He threw out all sorts of hurtful labels, such as Novelty Lover, and whimsy, and then had the audacity to accuse me of not caring about the environment, just a love of something new. I told him, to kiss....... my......... a$$. Dave and I bet on a lot of things, (which I usually win) and that is how our current bet was born. Now, if I use those shopping bags, a total of two more times, he has to kiss my sweet aye-double-snakes. Both cheeks, not in a foreplay-ish way, and while saying I am the best conservationist he knows.

After we got home, the Hoodlums raced to get their costumes on and were dressed by the time our friends came over. Emma wanted Brittany to do her hair like a princess, and since I am only good at snarls and ponytails, I wasn't too offended. We walked around our old 'hood collecting candy during the warmest Halloween I remember. It was truly, lovely, and even lovelier was how exhausted the kids were by 7:00. We barely got them home and jammied, before they were toast. We then spent the rest of the night watching original versions of Friday the 13th, parts one and duex.

My Lil Pumpkins

We decided to divide into teams this year.

The Neurotic Perfectionists vs.

The We'll-Get-It-Done-If-We-Aren't-Distracted-By-Something-Else- Wolverines.

Dawson exposing the innards.



This is as close as Dyl got to the goo.




Em, happy as a clam to be using the forbidden markers.




Happy Halloween!!

Bust-ed.

Yes. We do have locks on our bathroom doors....but that is not how I was raised. Not blaming, just saying.

Dawson stayed home sick this morning. He woke up with a fever, cough, stomach ache, and lethargy; and I bet you can guess which symptom is my favorite. I dosed him with some generic Tylenol, and by the time I was getting out of the shower, he had rediscovered enough strength to move himself off the couch and onto the floor in my bathroom. He was feeling a little better, and certainly well enough to give me the low down on what happened in the short 45 minutes I was in the shower.

He barely made it through the story of Emma and the mayonnaise on the floor, when he stopped mid sentence; sat up, and said, "Where did you get that tattoo?"

He was of course, referencing the Summit County Sheriff Badge tattoo, carefully applied to my left cleavage.

"Dylan gave it to me after he got his flu shot."

That is not entirely the truth. Although Dylan eventually handed over the tattoo, I had to bribe him with a mini-pack of Sour Patch Kids, an ice cream cone at McDonald's, and the threat of a second dose of flu vaccine.

"Well, why did you put it.....there?"

I thought about telling him the truth; that I was planning on arresting his father after the kids went to bed, but decided that might generate another homework assignment that I would again, have to explain at Parent Teacher Conference.

I tried the next best thing, distraction. I threw on some clothes and told him about these sweet wound tattoos that I had found in the junk cupboard the other day. Since we had an appointment to see his pediatrician, we decided it would be funny to have her check out his "rash" while we were there. He picked out some nasty green, maggot and pus infected wounds, and we adhered them to his belly. He was so excited about making the doctor scream, he forgot all about my tatts. Perfect.



Kathy, his pediatrician, did not disappoint us. She made a big deal over his "rash" and laughed at our prank. She then informed us that the strep was negative and she was certain that Daws has swine flu. Holla.

On our way home from Park City, the Tylenol started to wear off. We barely made it home before the tears started. He was feeling totally miserable, so I offered to snuggle him on the couch, and watch a movie, or Wii, or whatever he wanted. He decided to go up to his own bed and take a nap,which means he must be feeling crappy, since he has been anti-nap for several years now. Poor little buddy, I hope he gets feeling better soon, and I think if I scrub my tatt off tomorrow, I can blame the memory on his feverish delirium.

That Makes Sense.....

I was just the proud-ist Mutha when Dawson came home yesterday with a note from the Principal. The note was to inform his parents, that he was indeed a winner in some Tree Conservation artwork contest. Nice. I made a big deal about it, gave him a low five, high five, and a couple of chest bumps, and that was that.

The prize for winning the contest, involved all the winners from each class, helping to plant a tree today. Dawson thought that was lame, since they were planting it in the middle of the football field. (Sometimes he gets the facts mixed up. Who knows where they were actually planting it.)

Anywho, as I snuggled up to Daveskins last night, we were gloating about our artistic child prodigy, and he asked me if Dawson had told me what he had drawn. Nope.

His winning entry in the Tree Conservation contest, was a self-portrait of Dawson sitting in the top of a tree, with a chainsaw, trying to cut it down. That makes sense. If I was trying to spread the message of conserving trees, I would definitely choose the picture that included a chainsaw.

I will add the artwork to this post, as soon as it is taken off the Winner's Wall, outside the Principal's office.

When Dawson came home today, I asked him how the tree planting went....

"It was dumb. I wish I had never drawn such a great picture, so they had to pick me as a winner."

Hmm. He gets the humility from his Dad, and the artistic skillz from Moi.

Don't Throw Shizz on the Roof!

I was playing football with the Hoodlums this afternoon, but had to come inside, after getting overwhelmed with their nagging.

"Don't throw it so hard at my chest/face/back, Mom!"
"It's two hand touch, not tackle, Mooo-uuummm!"
"Your victory dance is too long and totally inappropriate Mother!"

Wah! I couldn't take the whining, or the cold, so I came in and started doing some stuff in the office. 30 minutes of peace and quiet passed before all 3 Hoodlums slinked into the doorway of the office looking very guilty.

Dawson was the first to speak. "Mom, could you get the football off the roof for us."

Seriously, they probably only waited until the sliding glass door made contact with the frame before deciding they needed to do something naughty. A specific act that we talk about not doing all the time. DON'T THROW SHIZZ ON THE ROOF.

So I said, "Sorry your outta luck. I am not going to climb out on the roof."

Then Dyl pipes in, "Well, would you at least get Dawson's shoes down?" Ah, the old, throw-the-shoes-on-the-roof-to-knock-down-the-football-trick.

"Nope."

Dawson layed the final straw, "Ummmmm.... You might want to get your shoes down." and they were gone.

They magically reappeared behind me, as I removed the screen from Dylan's window, to egg me on. The giggling started as I straddled the window, and made my way out onto the roof. It only increased as they threw out helpful suggestions, like don't fall off the roof and be careful, ha ha ha.

I was careful, while retrieving the shoes, and then brought the giggles to a stand still, as I picked up the football and carefully punted it as far as I could into the horse pasture. They were gone in a flash and I had another good 8 uninterrupted minutes.

I have been looking forward to today for many years. Today was the day, that Dave deemed the Boyz, old enough to go on the Deer Hunt. Not being a fan of hunting, by any stretch of the imagination, I can however, celebrate the fact that Dave can spend some good time with the Hoodlums, making memories. Grandpa Fred spent the night with us as well, and the all the Boyz were looking forward to hanging with him.

The menfolk departed early this morning, which was fine by me. I was looking forward to sleeping in, and figured Em wouldn't stir until 8, without the boys doing their usual headlocks and Indian leg wrestles outside her door. I was wrong. At quarter after seven, she started hollering down to me. For some reason, ever since she made the transition to a regular bed, she won't get out of it, without an invitation. I hollered back to her, to come down and get in bed with me. She did so, and brought both her stuffed moose, and several blankets. I turned some cartoons on for her and reshuffled myself to get a little more shut-eye.

I was sleeping good, until I rolled over and came nose to tail with her filthy, disgusting moose. The smell alone made me want to get up and shower, and the damn thing just barely came out of the washer. I made her put the moose under the blanket and snuggled up close to her. Emma really knows how to cuddle. I got so comfortable, that I was able to drift off again, and only regained consciousness when she did a pile driver into my unprotected abdomen.

I was up for good then, and we made a plan with Shanna Hannah, for a day of girl fun. We headed to Provo, and went for mani/pedis. Emma was hysterical, and stayed perfectly still while the girl painted her nails bright pink with a little flower accent. Later we wandered the mall, and I bought several presents for my little spoiled Sweetums, including some hideous light up, gold, princess pumps. It was a great day.

I might not have splurged on the gold pumps if I didn't think she would be able to skate board in them.





The Boyz had a grand ole' time with their Dad and Grandpa, and we missed them terribly.

Trippin' On SnowCrack

I went back to my roots yesterday, when I picked up a shift at SnowCreek. I started there almost 11 years ago, with an internship for my Radiology Technician license, and ended up tricking them, into hiring me full-time. It was an awesome job, but I soon discovered that a person so well-versed in the art of people pleasing, like myself, should not waste their compassion and healing personality, by spending the majority of the day in a dark room. Plus, I got really bored.

There are only so many things that you can do by yourself in a room so dark you can't even see your hand in front of your face. For the 15ish minute spells, that it used to take, for the machines to spit out a picture of a leg or wrist, I was left to entertain myself, which I can do, it just isn't always appropriate or legal. It also helps if you are not petrified of the dark. Sometimes I would burst out of the room, as soon as the green light, gave me the go ahead. All that time in the dark, was spent getting myself worked up, thinking there might be a Murderer crouching under the counter waiting for me, or swearing on my life, that I smelled fart when I knew it wasn't me, or the worst, developing a routine x-ray then holding the film up to the light and seeing a dead person. I have ghost issues, and watch a lot of movies, and have a very active imagination, not a good combo.

I haven't worked at SnowCrack for about 5 years, so when they called, I jumped at the chance to help them out and see all my old cronies. I showed up at the clinic about 25 minutes early because I had forgotten what a lovely commute it was, and sat in my car and reminisced of the time, about 10 years ago, that I had shown up a little early. I could see two women and a man, huddled outside the entrance to the clinic, and I hadn't yet had my A.M. transfusion of Diet Coke. I tried to avoid eye contact, and scurry past them, to the attached grocery store, however, they spotted me, in my incriminating scrub wear, and hollered out to me the scariest words of my life, "Hey, help us. My wife is having a baby."

As a newly married, twenty year old x-ray tech, my experience with birthing babies, consisted of religiously taking the pill, so as to avoid any experience with birthing babies. Nevertheless, I quickly unlocked the front door and let in the trio, consisting of the extremely pregnant and panting-slash-whimpering lady in question, her Mother, and her ashen-faced Baby Daddy. I led them down the dark hallway into the trauma bay, where I didn't have to say a word, and the women dropped her drawers and rolled onto the bed. I couldn't help thinking that a little more resistance on the last part, may have prevented the whole ordeal in the first place, but what do I know.

I heard a voice and looked over my shoulder to see the nurse had arrived. Hallelujah, or so I thought. She immediately had a nervous breakdown and only held it together long enough to call 911. Once I saw the nurse slumped against the wall next to the husband, I turned my attention back to the screaming, and just about joined in. At this point in my career, my knowledge of the human body, came from owning one, and studying bones for x-ray positioning. When I turned around I nearly shizzed my chaps. I was staring directly into the barrel of a loaded vagina, ready to shoot a Human Bean into my arms. I had just enough time and common sense to put some gloves on, before standing there wide-eyed and panic stricken, with my arms outstretched, to catch the little slime ball.

As the last little toe slipped out, the help started to arrive. I noticed one of my favorite, way-to-laid-back-for-the-situation, Doctors, pop his head in, give me a nod, and then proceed to the office, to put down his coffee. I remember screaming, "Uh, we are having a BABY in here!" He mosey'd back in and said, "People have been having babies for years." Oh, rrriiigghhhttt.............

The trauma bay started to fill up, with what I am assuming was every last available EMT, when the Doctor ordered me to hand the baby over to one of them, so I could finish the delivery. He gave me instructions to clamp and cut the cord, and when I thought I was certainly done, and could breath again, he grabbed my hand and pressed down hard on the women's abdomen. She was still hollering a bit, and the Doctor cheerily sang out that, we couldn't forget about the placenta. Placenta what, placenta who? I was hanging by a thread, but I managed to make it through the placenta delivery and the Doctors lesson on how to check it, to make sure it is all there. I didn't have any feeling in my legs until the Baby Boy and his Mutha, were loaded up on the ambulance and headed to the hospital for follow-up. Then, though wobbly and covered in afterbirth, my legs carried me into the dark room where I stayed and cried for the next half hour.

Yesterday as I made my way into the clinic, most of the morning ritual was the same. I went through flipping on lights, checking gauges, and bantering with the crew. The gurney sheets still smelled of playdoh, and it seemed I had a memory in every room. Some of them were great, like the time I had to take care of this total douche bag that came from L.A. during the film festival. He came bursting into the back of the clinic, clad head to toe in the festival "uniform" of black, ignoring the receptionist and screaming that he needed some "effing oxygen." I tried to find out what he needed, but he just kept screaming about his "effing oxygen", and being surrounded by "effing idiots" who didn't recognize his "effing need, for effing oxygen." I rolled my eyes, and placed an oxygen mask on his face. He plopped down on the gurney and inhaled big deep breaths. I walked out and left him to his own hyperventilating, hoping that he would pass out sooner, rather than later.

After a bit, I returned to check on him, and found him smiling smugly through the mask. His robot girlfriend also clad in black, was sitting at the bedside stroking and cooing at him, and glaring at me. He took the mask off long enough, to lash out at me and question my clinical skills for not giving him the oxygen sooner. He said, "See, obviously all I needed was some oxygen, coming from L.A to 7000 feet..... Obviously." I smiled and held up the end of the oxygen cord, that I had never even attached to the oxygen, and said, "Obviously, this isn't even connected to oxygen. You could've used a paper bag. Now who's the effing idiot."

My first cardiac arrest happened on a quiet fall afternoon at Snowcreek. I answered the phone and picked up just enough jumbled words to be able to report to the Doc, that we had a cardiac arrest on the way. He questioned me, and I said, that I thought that's what they had said. Sure enough, in rolled the EMS crew, with CPR in progress on a young electrician who had fallen into a live panel. He was way past dead, by the time we got him, but we continued to work on him for several minutes after he arrived. Just long enough for me to have the image of his lifeless blue eyes staring up at me as I did compressions, burned onto the back of my eyelids. It was the first time I really started to contemplate death. It was so strange to me, as we went through his wallet, looking for identification and someone to notify, that he had probably kissed his wife good-bye earlier that morning, and they had had a normal conversation about what to do for the weekend or dinner plans, or who had taken out the garbage last, and now, he was dead. It hit way too close to home, as Daveskins is in the same line of work, and I remember calling him, and telling him I loved him, and begging him to be careful.

My shift yesterday was relatively quiet on the outside. Mostly sore throats, flu symptoms, and the occasional physical. I had a great time though talking with the people who were some of my closest friends through a time of immense personal growth. They were around when the Boyz were both thought up and produced, and SnowCreek, unbeknownst to them, even supplied the pregnancy tests for confirmation. I remember with Dawson, I was taking tests like crazy, because of all the fertility stuff we had to do, to get him. One day, as I was sitting with my pants around my ankles, I only half-heartedly glanced over to the test that was "cooking" and then immediately did a double take. What the hell did two red lines mean? I called my friend Kristi, who happened to be the Doctor on that day, into the bathroom, and thrust the test in her face. She laughed at me, and called me an idiot. I still didn't believe that I could be pregnant after trying so long.

I was in shock, and that night when the lab called to give me a stat result on my pregnancy test, Dave and I were lounging on the couch. After hanging up the phone, I turned to him and said, "I'm pregnant?" We were both in shock, even though it's fairly common knowledge that if you take fertility medicine and have sex, chances are you might end up, knocked up. (Sorry to ruin that for you Mom. I know you thought it was immaculate.)

I also found out about Baby Dyl at work, and was quite possibly more shocked about his arrival since I was flawlessly using the Nuva Ring, and had a 8 month old baby at home, whom I had just finished nursing. But ironically, the last pregnancy test I borrowed, (yes I put them back when I was done,) ended up being my ticket out of there as well. I was perfectly comfortable at SnowCrack, and had worked my way from receptionist, to Nurse Manager in those few short years, and was content to retire there. The third and final time I sat in the employee bathroom, watching the clock and the two little lines appear, I was astounded. I had an IUD for hell's sakes, and two little boys under the age of 3. I remember taking a picture with my cell phone and sending it to Dave with the caption: YOU ARE A STUD.

About six months later, we learned that our little girl's heart had stopped beating. People say that things always happen for a reason. I don't know if that is always true, but certainly in my case, many wonderful and bittersweet things came from our tragedy. In the end, I decided I needed a big change. Something a haircut, or new wardrobe, just couldn't bandage. I left the comfort and support of my friends at the clinic, and lucked into a job at the U. A sufficient enough challenge for an emotionally damaged, relatively new grad, with no hospital experience. It ended up, being just a big enough distraction, that I could begin to heal.

Daveskins, and the Hoodlums came bustling into the clinic right as we were closing up shop. I felt as though I had come full circle. It was wonderful to be back, and experience all of the memories, good, bad, and otherwise, and still leave there, feeling whole and happy. It was Dave's night to cook dinner, so we went to Pizza Hut, and enjoyed the warmth and noise of all 5 of us crammed into the booth.

When none of Dave's delicious dinner attempt remained, we loaded up the kids and they took me back to pick up my car. Dyl opted to ride home with me, so I wouldn't get lonely, and he talked non-stop for 25 minutes. It was wonderful to have him with me, and although he spoke mostly of the special powers he wished lizards had, i.e shooting blood out of their eyes, he could have said anything, and I wouldn't have felt any more content. It was a great day, and if they ever need me again, I would be happy to trip on some SnowCrack.

Friday Night in Oakley.

Some people might say there is nothing to do in Oakley on a Friday night....... Those people must have overlooked the joy that comes from jumping off your front porch, ninja-style. This kept us entertained for quite some time.

Sorry Hon, I had to put your cheerleader jump in...So hot.

Where's My Hug Dude?

As I was getting ready for work this morning, Sweet lil' Dyl sat on the tub and gave me the update on his Monday. I am so proud of him, I can hardly stand it. He is funny and loud and crazy to be around, as long as he knows you really well. In most other situations, he is shy and quiet.

When he started Kindergarten, he kept mentioning a boy named Juan at school that was mean and pushed everyone around. One afternoon last month, Dyl was saying that Juan was pushing him down at recess. I asked him who Juan played with, and Dyl reported that he didn't have any friends. Well, bingo. I told Dyl, that Juan was probably sad about not having any friends and then I said, "I bet if you asked Juan to play with you, he wouldn't be mean to you anymore." Dylan looked at me like I was nuts, and then replied, "Do you bet me ten bucks?" I agreed, and we had a deal.

Over the last couple of weeks, Dave and I have been encouraging Dyl to get to know Juan a little better. The reports have been getting better and better. They started out with Juan pushing Dyl down when he asked him if he wanted to play. Then Juan would push Dyl over, but help him up after. Then, Juan only accidentally knocked him over, and finally real progress.

Yesterday, Dyl came home and when Dave inquired about Juan, Dylan said he had been waiting for him at the bus stop, and when he got off the bus, Juan opened his arms up wide and said, "Where's my hug, dude?"

I probably owe him 10 bucks, but he hasn't come to collect, and I think he is probably pretty happy just having some new friends.

A Long, Non-Humorous Post

My heart is really full today. I am often highly emotional after work, mostly due to being tired after being on my feet all day, or maybe it is being subjected to person after person, having the worst day of their life, I don't know. I have my coping mechanisms, but today no amount of inappropriate humor, or rap music will take away this feeling.

On Sunday, Dave and I actually made it through both sessions of General Conference without falling asleep or deciding that we would DVR it and watch it later....wink, wink. I was really touched by President Monson's talk about having charity towards others. He talked about being asked what he would like for his birthday last year, and his reply was, that he just wanted people to be charitable towards each other. When his birthday rolled around, President Monson received numerous letters and stories, of acts of kindness, that people had given. He showed a picture of a tall glass jar, filled with fuzzy little balls, that each represented an act of kindness that was given by a primary kid somewhere. It started me thinking about all the opportunities that are presented to me on a daily basis, and how little I take advantage of them. Dave and I decided to get a big container and have our own family Jar of Warm and Fuzzies. We felt good about our plan, and the fact that we were implementing something from Conference, and sealed the deal with our secret handshake.

The next day I went to work. We don't physically have a big jar or any fuzzy balls to drop in it, yet, so my commute was the same as usual. I didn't let anyone merge, I used my middle finger signal and horn, more than my blinker, and I parked illegally. I mean why start any acts of kindness before I have a fuzzy ball to put in a jar?

I inherited a couple of patients from the night shift, and settled comfortably into my routine. As the morning wore on, I took a very elderly woman, who I am going to refer to as Lol(little old lady), who was having some chest pain and trouble breathing. Her symptoms had somewhat resolved by the time she made it to the ER, but due to her age and history, she warranted a complete work-up. Lol had a great personality, and I am a sucker for old people so we got along fine. As the day progressed I had reason to be in her room several times an hour. She needed various tests and updates and medicine, and each time we exchanged different personal tidbits. I am excellent at one-liners, and making conversation that doesn't actually reveal anything about me, but with her, I found myself answering her questions, and reporting on the Hoodlums, like she was an old friend.

As difficult as it was for her to get around, she insisted on getting up and going to the bathroom about every 30 minutes. As simple as this sounds, each time I would have to drop what I was doing for my other patients, and unhook her from all the monitors, oxygen, and IV lines, and then slowly help her into a wheelchair, take her to the bathroom, and then spend a few minutes in the bathroom with her. It was a process that took a good 15-20 minutes, and each time the call light came on, I groaned inside.

You can't help but study people, especially if you are parked in the bathroom with them a couple of times an hour. Lol's body was so old, but her eyes, although tired, were very kind. She had paper thin skin with a tangled maze of bright blue veins and purple-y yellow bruises trailing up her forearms. Her back and shoulders were hunched so far over, that it was a real strain to lift her head up straight, which meant she had to keep brushing her wiry silver hair away, with stiff gnarled fingers.

She thanked me over and over for helping her, and being patient, which made me feel ashamed at my inward groaning. At different intervals, she kept asking how much longer my shift was, and if I thought she would go upstairs before I left, because she didn't want another nurse. It took me by surprise, mostly because sometimes, people ask me that, but it is because they are hoping I am going home soon. I responded that I would likely be the nurse to escort her upstairs, and then she asked if I could work on the floor the next day and continue to take care of her. I explained my issue boiled down to short-term people skills, which limited me to the ED, and tucked her into bed.

An hour before my shift ended, I got a bed assignment for Lol, and went to tell her the good news. Her kids were leaving for the night and she was starting to get anxious. I did my best to alleviate her concerns about staying in the hospital and went to get the monitor hook-ups. When I came back she was alone, and her eyes were sad and misty. I tried to keep the conversation positive and upbeat, but when we got in the elevators, she reached out and held my hand, and I was quiet.

I met her Murse, upstairs and gave him the low down. I tried to relay all the concerns that Lol had, but he seemed distracted and anxious for shift change. When he left the room, I asked her if she wanted me to help her into the bathroom before she got in bed. As I helped her with this now familiar routine, her skinny little shoulders started to shake with sobs. I sat down on the side of the tub and listened to her cry and felt utterly helpless, and awkward. I held her hand and gently rubbed her spiny back, while she told me that she felt like she was going to die during the night. I spent another half hour with Lol and then tucked her in, and got out of Dodge.

On the way to my car, I talked it out with Daveskins, and then instead of instantly turning up my tunage, I just let the car be silent. I rode for a long time in the dark and quiet, thinking about Lol. I couldn't help but empathize with her fear, as I thought of my own experiences, when I have been frightened, or sad, or sick, and needed a emotional high five from someone. I bawled all the way home, pausing only to pick up some much needed Mexican food and buckle it safely in Emma's car seat. I arrived home feeling much better and enlightened to the point that, I don't need a big jar, to be filled with warm and fuzzies, I just need to pull my head out, and be aware of opportunities that are put in front of me.

I am still going to get a jar though, 'cause I really dig visual aids.

Birthday Update:

Dave is pissed that I only mentioned my card. I also got two beautiful bouquets of flowers. Beautiful pink-y kinda flowers on the kitchen table, and another dozen red roses in my car. They were beautiful and awesome, and now they are documented. If only my camera wasn't in a million pieces, I could have posted some pictures..........