This occured to me in the shower this morning.
If I were a superhero, my super power would be invisibility.
My weakness would be Cheerleader locker rooms.
Just saying.
Monday, May 17, 2010
Monday, April 19, 2010
The Expected Unexpected
So my Dad, Luis El Grande, passed away at his winter hideout in Florida on April 8th.
His health was poor, and I (a nurse) and my sister-in-law (a physician) both knew he wasn't well and didn't have very long. Both of us predicted around Thanksgiving that he might not come back to Michigan this spring.
He was only 3 weeks from coming home when he proved us right.
From what I understand, he and his girlfriend were out having fun all day. He came home, made and ate dinner, then dozed off in his lazy boy. When his girlfriend tried to wake him up about two hours later, he was gone. All in all, dying peacefully in your sleep isn't a bad way to go.
Dying from Type II diabetes, congestive heart failure and morbid obesity, however, seems pretty dumb. But he'd been wanting to die since Mom passed back in 2002 and chose slow suicide. He was fully aware that controlling his weight would have meant many more years of life, but there you go.
We buried him last Wednesday next to my Mom. The burial was a debacle, but I'll tell that story another time. Basically it was a customer service foul-up by the cemetery and funeral home. But it got done.
So now I'm the executor of the trust, and Mona is helping out. My brother Juan is in the loop and we'll be talking to Dads lawyer this week. I've managed to get some stuff done, but to really take care of most things we need to wait on the death certificate from Florida.
We also went to his house up north and took some heirlooms out before his girlfriend and her family got in there. We got the will and some jewelry out of the safe, the guns out of the attic, tools out of the basement and took them home.
We're planning an Estate Sale to clean the place out over Memorial Day weekend.
The best thing to come out of this deal is that The Peanuts college (along with a siblings, should one ever come along) is pretty much covered.
The odd thing is that I am not nearly as broken up as I was when Mom died. Me and Luis had some serious disagreements and he was a right bastard on more than a few occasions. I had a great deal of anger towards him for most of my life.
Now that he's gone, I am not so angry. But I'm not grieving much beyond a few tears at the funeral either. It's a very different and so far much less painful experience that when Mom died. It feels more like a milestone than a loss. Kind of like my 40th birthday. It was going to happen sooner or later. Might not be fun, but there's worse things.
Actually, the worst part was explaining it to The Peanut. We were very honest with her and tried to keep it simple. We told her Gramps had died and had gone to heaven. We took her to the funeral so she could say goodbye and we were careful to explain that while he looked like he was asleep, his body was old and sick and he wasn't there anymore (we don't want her to fear sleep).
She took it pretty much the way "the books" said she would; lots of questions with long breaks between series, essentially revisiting the same questions over and over. She expressed sadness a few times and seems to have dealt with it pretty well. But every now and then running through it with her would get me going. She asked us a lot while we were driving and Mona would have to do the talking while I welled up, unable to speak. I feel bad that she won't know her Grandparents on my side, but I didn't know 3 of the 4 of mine and I turned out OK. She already calls my Godparents Grams and Gramps, and they treat her like a grandchild, so all in all she'll never really experience the loss.
Mona's parents are both in their 50's, but he dad is not the healthiest guy (recently lost an eye to cancer and has other issues; I give him 10 years, tops) and her mom had a mastectomy (she's cancer free now) last summer. But I figure they'll last a while, and The Peanut will have lots of chances to go and stay at Grams House of Perpetual Indulgence.
So there you go. It's been a hell of a month.
His health was poor, and I (a nurse) and my sister-in-law (a physician) both knew he wasn't well and didn't have very long. Both of us predicted around Thanksgiving that he might not come back to Michigan this spring.
He was only 3 weeks from coming home when he proved us right.
From what I understand, he and his girlfriend were out having fun all day. He came home, made and ate dinner, then dozed off in his lazy boy. When his girlfriend tried to wake him up about two hours later, he was gone. All in all, dying peacefully in your sleep isn't a bad way to go.
Dying from Type II diabetes, congestive heart failure and morbid obesity, however, seems pretty dumb. But he'd been wanting to die since Mom passed back in 2002 and chose slow suicide. He was fully aware that controlling his weight would have meant many more years of life, but there you go.
We buried him last Wednesday next to my Mom. The burial was a debacle, but I'll tell that story another time. Basically it was a customer service foul-up by the cemetery and funeral home. But it got done.
So now I'm the executor of the trust, and Mona is helping out. My brother Juan is in the loop and we'll be talking to Dads lawyer this week. I've managed to get some stuff done, but to really take care of most things we need to wait on the death certificate from Florida.
We also went to his house up north and took some heirlooms out before his girlfriend and her family got in there. We got the will and some jewelry out of the safe, the guns out of the attic, tools out of the basement and took them home.
We're planning an Estate Sale to clean the place out over Memorial Day weekend.
The best thing to come out of this deal is that The Peanuts college (along with a siblings, should one ever come along) is pretty much covered.
The odd thing is that I am not nearly as broken up as I was when Mom died. Me and Luis had some serious disagreements and he was a right bastard on more than a few occasions. I had a great deal of anger towards him for most of my life.
Now that he's gone, I am not so angry. But I'm not grieving much beyond a few tears at the funeral either. It's a very different and so far much less painful experience that when Mom died. It feels more like a milestone than a loss. Kind of like my 40th birthday. It was going to happen sooner or later. Might not be fun, but there's worse things.
Actually, the worst part was explaining it to The Peanut. We were very honest with her and tried to keep it simple. We told her Gramps had died and had gone to heaven. We took her to the funeral so she could say goodbye and we were careful to explain that while he looked like he was asleep, his body was old and sick and he wasn't there anymore (we don't want her to fear sleep).
She took it pretty much the way "the books" said she would; lots of questions with long breaks between series, essentially revisiting the same questions over and over. She expressed sadness a few times and seems to have dealt with it pretty well. But every now and then running through it with her would get me going. She asked us a lot while we were driving and Mona would have to do the talking while I welled up, unable to speak. I feel bad that she won't know her Grandparents on my side, but I didn't know 3 of the 4 of mine and I turned out OK. She already calls my Godparents Grams and Gramps, and they treat her like a grandchild, so all in all she'll never really experience the loss.
Mona's parents are both in their 50's, but he dad is not the healthiest guy (recently lost an eye to cancer and has other issues; I give him 10 years, tops) and her mom had a mastectomy (she's cancer free now) last summer. But I figure they'll last a while, and The Peanut will have lots of chances to go and stay at Grams House of Perpetual Indulgence.
So there you go. It's been a hell of a month.
Tuesday, April 6, 2010
Back So Soon?
Yes I am. Because I need your help and advice.
First, as is my custom, some background.
My brother Juan married into Money. I mean real money. His father-in-law is a world-recognized leader in his field and has literally written the text book on what he does. He's a self made man and has earned all the wealth and acclaim that he currently enjoys.
My sister-in-law, Juanite, is following in his footsteps and has a bright, debt-free future.
Her parents are divorced, and her mom is in a position of authority. She also has a huge alimony income in addition to her own family money.
Juan and I are from a blue collar family. My parents worked hard and they were able to put us through college for our first degrees. You know I just put myself through school again (with Mona's invaluable help) and Juan earned his MBA on his own. We also bought our own houses, cars, and other material possessions by earning the money we made.
My sister-in-law has two siblings. We'll call them Heckle and Jeckle. Both are attorneys. Heckle has a small practice and has gone to his Mom for cash to prop up the business recently (She sold a very expensive house in a resort type community on the east coast to cover him). Heckles wife is in sales and recently talked Heckle's dad into paying for her breast implants. Heckle is a bit of a jerk, but he's generally harmless.
Jeckle is married to an attorney. He practiced for about a year then married and decided to stay home to raise his son while his wife works. His some has some developmental issues, but I'm not sure if they're organic or have been created by Jeckle's numerous neuroses. His daughter has a significant development disorder and requires constant supervision. I have no issues with his decision to stay home with her. As far as his overall character however, Jeckle is in my opinion a huge pussy.
Both sons received a gift (according to my brother) $75K each from their father for the purchase of their homes. According to Juan, both boys have their hands out to Mom and Dad on a regular basis.
Juan and Juanita are currently house hunting. They want to move out of the blue collar neighborhood where we live (just a couple miles apart) to one that is more white collar / professional. They have the income and the ability, and I think they should live wherever they like. They've had some difficulty finding homes they like, had one deal fall through and are in the midst of negotiating for something they like.
The home they're bidding on now is on the opposite side of town (about 40 miles) from Juanita's family. Her family doesn't really like to leave their old money enclave, but Juan and Juanita feel that they have good reasons for searching in the area they've chosen. The area is about 20 miles from me, and fairly convenient. Mona and I talked about living in that area (in a much smaller, less expensive neighborhood) for some time, and like it a great deal.
All the time they've been shopping I've joked with them (especially when in school and unemployed) that I hope they find a house with a room in the basement where I can live when I lose our house (we were never in danger of losing our house). Juan and I both think the idea of me being the sponging, unemployed brother-in-law who lives in the basement is chuckle worthy.
I have approached the idea in a serious manner when talking about Mona and I moving. Because of the current credit climate I'm hearing that it's hard to buy a house when you still own a house. If that's true, then when it comes time for us to move it might be best for us to sell and stay in J&J's basement for a short time while we get a mortgage and find a new place. I figure that would take 2 to 3 months, and with 3000+ square feet (not counting the finished basement) we'd be pretty out of the way. We'd pay them some rent, of course, and Mona would do some child care for them while we were there too. But really the talks were all very hypothetical and no one requested or offered any sort of commitment. It was a big game of “What if..?”.
Which brings us up to the present.
We went to the Patriarch's place not long ago for an Easter visit. Mona and I were invited because it was also a birthday party for Juan's son, Luis.
The house hunt came up in conversation (most of the family was in the room discussing it) and a comment was made either by me or Juan that had something to do with me living in the basement. It was of course made in jest.
The next week, J&J found a house and are negotiating for it. The price was a little higher than planned, and Juanita called her mom to ask about a loan of some cash to cover some move-in expenses. Mom told her that she was uncomfortable with that, because she heard that I was planning to move my family in with them. Apparently Jeckle heard Juan and I joking and ran to mommy to tell her that I was looking for a handout. Juanita later heard the same thing from her father, who mentioned that Heckle was pretty upset.
Now, Heckle has annoyed me in the past with little shots, like pointing out at the Easter gathering that I'm overweight. He's right. But he's fat too (fatter than me, according to Mona). I blew it off. Jeckle's personality or social anxiety keeps him from doing much more than saying hello and goodbye to me while staring at his shoes. We've never had a conversation. Neither of these guys know a thing about me.
But now, Jeckle is out there impugning my character and suggesting that I'm some kind of gold digging bum. And apparently Dad and Mom are buying it. Juanita was not supposed to tell Juan any of this, but I think most wives would share this kind of thing with a spouse. Juan and I are tight enough that he calls me to vent when he's pissed. And of course I told Mona.
This how thing makes me angry. Juan is pretty fired up and Mona has decided she'd rather not see any of them again if at all possible. We certainly won't attend any more family functions on their home turf.
Now, if this were the Romantic age, I could ask Jeckle for satisfaction. I would not be expected to tolerate a slight to my honor. If Jeckle were more of a man and less surrounded by lawyers, I could just whip his ass (I'm not a tough guy at all, but Jeckle makes me look like Chuck Liddell). Both options are closed to me.
Mona says I just need to ignore it and stay away from them. It's too far removed from me to have any need to act. Juan may have to have some words with Jeckle, but really it ought to come from Juanita. My best friend Jaime agrees with Mona.
Juan is 75% of the way to whipping Jeckles ass.
I know that really, Mona and Jamie are right, but the blood of my ancestors and the teaching of my parents inclines me to partner up with Juan and teach Jeckle what happens when he decides that slander seems like a good idea.
What I'm looking for is a third option ideally. I'm leaning toward calling Jeckle a girls name whenever I see him from now on, along with finding other ways to torture him. I like the idea of causing him some social discomfort, engaging him in conversation (while obliquely letting him know that I know it makes him uncomfortable), finding ways to draw attention to him and occasionally causing him some physical pain (extra firm handshakes, “friendly” arm punches, etc). I would never, however, use his children to get to him. They and his wife, are and will remain, completely off limits.
So what I need is your advice. What, if anything, do I do? How shall I handle this?
First, as is my custom, some background.
My brother Juan married into Money. I mean real money. His father-in-law is a world-recognized leader in his field and has literally written the text book on what he does. He's a self made man and has earned all the wealth and acclaim that he currently enjoys.
My sister-in-law, Juanite, is following in his footsteps and has a bright, debt-free future.
Her parents are divorced, and her mom is in a position of authority. She also has a huge alimony income in addition to her own family money.
Juan and I are from a blue collar family. My parents worked hard and they were able to put us through college for our first degrees. You know I just put myself through school again (with Mona's invaluable help) and Juan earned his MBA on his own. We also bought our own houses, cars, and other material possessions by earning the money we made.
My sister-in-law has two siblings. We'll call them Heckle and Jeckle. Both are attorneys. Heckle has a small practice and has gone to his Mom for cash to prop up the business recently (She sold a very expensive house in a resort type community on the east coast to cover him). Heckles wife is in sales and recently talked Heckle's dad into paying for her breast implants. Heckle is a bit of a jerk, but he's generally harmless.
Jeckle is married to an attorney. He practiced for about a year then married and decided to stay home to raise his son while his wife works. His some has some developmental issues, but I'm not sure if they're organic or have been created by Jeckle's numerous neuroses. His daughter has a significant development disorder and requires constant supervision. I have no issues with his decision to stay home with her. As far as his overall character however, Jeckle is in my opinion a huge pussy.
Both sons received a gift (according to my brother) $75K each from their father for the purchase of their homes. According to Juan, both boys have their hands out to Mom and Dad on a regular basis.
Juan and Juanita are currently house hunting. They want to move out of the blue collar neighborhood where we live (just a couple miles apart) to one that is more white collar / professional. They have the income and the ability, and I think they should live wherever they like. They've had some difficulty finding homes they like, had one deal fall through and are in the midst of negotiating for something they like.
The home they're bidding on now is on the opposite side of town (about 40 miles) from Juanita's family. Her family doesn't really like to leave their old money enclave, but Juan and Juanita feel that they have good reasons for searching in the area they've chosen. The area is about 20 miles from me, and fairly convenient. Mona and I talked about living in that area (in a much smaller, less expensive neighborhood) for some time, and like it a great deal.
All the time they've been shopping I've joked with them (especially when in school and unemployed) that I hope they find a house with a room in the basement where I can live when I lose our house (we were never in danger of losing our house). Juan and I both think the idea of me being the sponging, unemployed brother-in-law who lives in the basement is chuckle worthy.
I have approached the idea in a serious manner when talking about Mona and I moving. Because of the current credit climate I'm hearing that it's hard to buy a house when you still own a house. If that's true, then when it comes time for us to move it might be best for us to sell and stay in J&J's basement for a short time while we get a mortgage and find a new place. I figure that would take 2 to 3 months, and with 3000+ square feet (not counting the finished basement) we'd be pretty out of the way. We'd pay them some rent, of course, and Mona would do some child care for them while we were there too. But really the talks were all very hypothetical and no one requested or offered any sort of commitment. It was a big game of “What if..?”.
Which brings us up to the present.
We went to the Patriarch's place not long ago for an Easter visit. Mona and I were invited because it was also a birthday party for Juan's son, Luis.
The house hunt came up in conversation (most of the family was in the room discussing it) and a comment was made either by me or Juan that had something to do with me living in the basement. It was of course made in jest.
The next week, J&J found a house and are negotiating for it. The price was a little higher than planned, and Juanita called her mom to ask about a loan of some cash to cover some move-in expenses. Mom told her that she was uncomfortable with that, because she heard that I was planning to move my family in with them. Apparently Jeckle heard Juan and I joking and ran to mommy to tell her that I was looking for a handout. Juanita later heard the same thing from her father, who mentioned that Heckle was pretty upset.
Now, Heckle has annoyed me in the past with little shots, like pointing out at the Easter gathering that I'm overweight. He's right. But he's fat too (fatter than me, according to Mona). I blew it off. Jeckle's personality or social anxiety keeps him from doing much more than saying hello and goodbye to me while staring at his shoes. We've never had a conversation. Neither of these guys know a thing about me.
But now, Jeckle is out there impugning my character and suggesting that I'm some kind of gold digging bum. And apparently Dad and Mom are buying it. Juanita was not supposed to tell Juan any of this, but I think most wives would share this kind of thing with a spouse. Juan and I are tight enough that he calls me to vent when he's pissed. And of course I told Mona.
This how thing makes me angry. Juan is pretty fired up and Mona has decided she'd rather not see any of them again if at all possible. We certainly won't attend any more family functions on their home turf.
Now, if this were the Romantic age, I could ask Jeckle for satisfaction. I would not be expected to tolerate a slight to my honor. If Jeckle were more of a man and less surrounded by lawyers, I could just whip his ass (I'm not a tough guy at all, but Jeckle makes me look like Chuck Liddell). Both options are closed to me.
Mona says I just need to ignore it and stay away from them. It's too far removed from me to have any need to act. Juan may have to have some words with Jeckle, but really it ought to come from Juanita. My best friend Jaime agrees with Mona.
Juan is 75% of the way to whipping Jeckles ass.
I know that really, Mona and Jamie are right, but the blood of my ancestors and the teaching of my parents inclines me to partner up with Juan and teach Jeckle what happens when he decides that slander seems like a good idea.
What I'm looking for is a third option ideally. I'm leaning toward calling Jeckle a girls name whenever I see him from now on, along with finding other ways to torture him. I like the idea of causing him some social discomfort, engaging him in conversation (while obliquely letting him know that I know it makes him uncomfortable), finding ways to draw attention to him and occasionally causing him some physical pain (extra firm handshakes, “friendly” arm punches, etc). I would never, however, use his children to get to him. They and his wife, are and will remain, completely off limits.
So what I need is your advice. What, if anything, do I do? How shall I handle this?
Monday, April 5, 2010
Does Absence Make the Heart Grow Fonder?
If it does, then you must be pretty fond of me by now.
Alright, I admit it's been a long while. A very long while, in fact. But I have no good explanation.
For a while I just haven't had much to say, or the energy to say it. I've also gotten fairly sucked into Facebook. Love me some Facebook. As a result my ramblings here have suffered to the point that you may no longer be reading this at all.
I suppose the first thing I need to do is provide an update on where I am.
I graduated from nursing school with my BSN (3.78 GPA, in case you were wondering) in December, and started looking for jobs. You may have read my rant about not being able to find work. I took a week off in January and we went to Disney with The Peanut. I had a line on a job at that time, but it fell through when the hospital system decided to close a small hospital to inpatient service and displaced a bunch of nurses, which meant outside candidates were not being interviewed. I found this out while in Florida and a couple of days before we got home I stopped shaving.
It got so bad that I started a playoff beard like those seen often in the NHL in spring. I vowed not to shave until I either passed my board exam or got an interview, whichever happened first. I chronicled it's growth with weekly pictures posted to, again, Facebook.
While the beard grew I started really looking for jobs and practically making a stalker of myself. I was calling nurse recruiters regularly and working my network for all it was worth. I'd find job postings, apply online as most of the hospitals required and then make calls to find the hiring manager for those positions. With a name or email address I would send an additional resume and cover letter and/or leave a voicemail for them. Mine was a known name.
While this went on I was waiting for the paperwork to go through the State system so I could take my board exam an get my license, which is the last hurdle to overcome to be able to practice as a Registered Nurse.
In early February I got the approval to take the NCLEX exam (nursing boards) and made the appointment for the following week, which was the soonest available. Most of my friends held off for weeks or even months, but I didn't want to wait. On day 24 of the playoff beard I sat for the exam.
It's a computer test that can take anywhere from 75 to 265 questions to decide whether or not you learned enough in school to be a safe Nurse. There's some kind of formula based on your performance on the test and the difficulty of the questions that lets the computer make a 95% accurate prediction of your ability to function in Nursing. 60 of the 75 questions (if you do the minimum) are test questions and the other 15 are experimental and are just there to be evaluated. You don't know which is which.
The test is administered by a private company and they report the results to the state which decides then about whether or not to license you (based on the test, background checks etc). They have elaborate security procedures to make sure that you are who you say you are and that you don't cheat. I think it's probably easier to get on a nuclear submarine than it is to get into the testing room.
Well, I took the thing and the computer shut off at 75 questions. I felt like I was guessing most of the time, but have enough faith in myself to believe that there was no way I'd fail with the minimum, so I walked out 98% sure that I'd passed. There's a way to sort of check immediately to see of you passed and I did that when I got home. It worked, and I felt good about the whole thing.
My wife was at the house when I got back, letting our sick dog out of the house. There was a job fair going on that I wanted to go to but wasn't sure about timing. I still had time, so I shaved the beard while she ironed a shirt for me.
I went to the event, got there at the end and managed to meet a couple of people, including one recruiter with whom I had been corresponding. It was OK, but kind of quick since I arrived towards the end. I also had time to pick up my Diploma while I was there and catch up with a couple of my friends. When I got home I emailed thank you notes.
The next day I went to another job fair and talked with more recruiters and said hi to the ones I'd seen the day before. I saw a couple more friends, took some notes and headed home.
On the drive home I got a call from a large hospital system asking if I'd like to interview later that week. Heck yes! Bonus, it was on an intensive care unit, which is very challenging but hard to get into as a new grad. I really wanted that job.
I went to the interview and noticed that I was competing with a guy who had a 4.0 in my program and was a classmate. I wasn't sure I could beat him, even though I had much more professional experience (he's 23). The next week I had an interview with a hospital where I had been pestering people. It was on a regular floor and sounded like I would be busting my butt. I was more worried about my ability to do that job than work in an ICU.
Turns out I got the ICU job! Interestingly enough, so did my classmate. A second spot opened and he was offered it ( know I got the spot first because he was offered and accepted a floor job, and then got the call offered the second spot when it opened up). We are in training together, which is actually pretty cool. Nice to have a classmate around.
I'm “working” in Neuroscience ICU. I used the quotes because really I am in training classes three days a week and only working with patients two days a week. The classroom stuff is supposed to be advanced training, ICU nurses are supposed to be able to keep extremely ill people alive and recognize quickly and react when someone tries to die.
Floor nurses need to know a lot of stuff too, and their work is demanding as all get out, but in a different way. Floor nurses bust ass, and anyone who says otherwise is either uninformed or just plain ornery. Either way, they're wrong.
A couple of days later I got the official confirmation that I passed my boards. Everything just sort of fell into place.
I feel kind of like I won the lottery. I have no idea how I got this lucky, but here I am and I'm grateful.
There's more to report, but I'm about typed out at the moment.
I hope you're doing well too.
Alright, I admit it's been a long while. A very long while, in fact. But I have no good explanation.
For a while I just haven't had much to say, or the energy to say it. I've also gotten fairly sucked into Facebook. Love me some Facebook. As a result my ramblings here have suffered to the point that you may no longer be reading this at all.
I suppose the first thing I need to do is provide an update on where I am.
I graduated from nursing school with my BSN (3.78 GPA, in case you were wondering) in December, and started looking for jobs. You may have read my rant about not being able to find work. I took a week off in January and we went to Disney with The Peanut. I had a line on a job at that time, but it fell through when the hospital system decided to close a small hospital to inpatient service and displaced a bunch of nurses, which meant outside candidates were not being interviewed. I found this out while in Florida and a couple of days before we got home I stopped shaving.
It got so bad that I started a playoff beard like those seen often in the NHL in spring. I vowed not to shave until I either passed my board exam or got an interview, whichever happened first. I chronicled it's growth with weekly pictures posted to, again, Facebook.
While the beard grew I started really looking for jobs and practically making a stalker of myself. I was calling nurse recruiters regularly and working my network for all it was worth. I'd find job postings, apply online as most of the hospitals required and then make calls to find the hiring manager for those positions. With a name or email address I would send an additional resume and cover letter and/or leave a voicemail for them. Mine was a known name.
While this went on I was waiting for the paperwork to go through the State system so I could take my board exam an get my license, which is the last hurdle to overcome to be able to practice as a Registered Nurse.
In early February I got the approval to take the NCLEX exam (nursing boards) and made the appointment for the following week, which was the soonest available. Most of my friends held off for weeks or even months, but I didn't want to wait. On day 24 of the playoff beard I sat for the exam.
It's a computer test that can take anywhere from 75 to 265 questions to decide whether or not you learned enough in school to be a safe Nurse. There's some kind of formula based on your performance on the test and the difficulty of the questions that lets the computer make a 95% accurate prediction of your ability to function in Nursing. 60 of the 75 questions (if you do the minimum) are test questions and the other 15 are experimental and are just there to be evaluated. You don't know which is which.
The test is administered by a private company and they report the results to the state which decides then about whether or not to license you (based on the test, background checks etc). They have elaborate security procedures to make sure that you are who you say you are and that you don't cheat. I think it's probably easier to get on a nuclear submarine than it is to get into the testing room.
Well, I took the thing and the computer shut off at 75 questions. I felt like I was guessing most of the time, but have enough faith in myself to believe that there was no way I'd fail with the minimum, so I walked out 98% sure that I'd passed. There's a way to sort of check immediately to see of you passed and I did that when I got home. It worked, and I felt good about the whole thing.
My wife was at the house when I got back, letting our sick dog out of the house. There was a job fair going on that I wanted to go to but wasn't sure about timing. I still had time, so I shaved the beard while she ironed a shirt for me.
I went to the event, got there at the end and managed to meet a couple of people, including one recruiter with whom I had been corresponding. It was OK, but kind of quick since I arrived towards the end. I also had time to pick up my Diploma while I was there and catch up with a couple of my friends. When I got home I emailed thank you notes.
The next day I went to another job fair and talked with more recruiters and said hi to the ones I'd seen the day before. I saw a couple more friends, took some notes and headed home.
On the drive home I got a call from a large hospital system asking if I'd like to interview later that week. Heck yes! Bonus, it was on an intensive care unit, which is very challenging but hard to get into as a new grad. I really wanted that job.
I went to the interview and noticed that I was competing with a guy who had a 4.0 in my program and was a classmate. I wasn't sure I could beat him, even though I had much more professional experience (he's 23). The next week I had an interview with a hospital where I had been pestering people. It was on a regular floor and sounded like I would be busting my butt. I was more worried about my ability to do that job than work in an ICU.
Turns out I got the ICU job! Interestingly enough, so did my classmate. A second spot opened and he was offered it ( know I got the spot first because he was offered and accepted a floor job, and then got the call offered the second spot when it opened up). We are in training together, which is actually pretty cool. Nice to have a classmate around.
I'm “working” in Neuroscience ICU. I used the quotes because really I am in training classes three days a week and only working with patients two days a week. The classroom stuff is supposed to be advanced training, ICU nurses are supposed to be able to keep extremely ill people alive and recognize quickly and react when someone tries to die.
Floor nurses need to know a lot of stuff too, and their work is demanding as all get out, but in a different way. Floor nurses bust ass, and anyone who says otherwise is either uninformed or just plain ornery. Either way, they're wrong.
A couple of days later I got the official confirmation that I passed my boards. Everything just sort of fell into place.
I feel kind of like I won the lottery. I have no idea how I got this lucky, but here I am and I'm grateful.
There's more to report, but I'm about typed out at the moment.
I hope you're doing well too.
Wednesday, January 27, 2010
Nursing shortage my ass!
OK, I am starting to get seriously pissed.
As you all know, last year at this time I started a one year accelerated nursing program. I graduated with my Bachelors last December. I am still waiting for the state to get everything together so that I can sit for my boards. In the meantime I am looking for a job.
And right now it appears that there ain’t none. Between all the nurses who are going back to work now that their auto working spouses are unemployed, the nurses who have put off retirement and the hospitals that are closing units and facilities I (and most of my classmates) am getting screwed.
I understand this is the worst economy we’ve seen in something like four generations, but COME ON! I haven’t had a single interview, let alone a job offer. On Tuesday I sent out four applications for jobs and got four rejections inside of 18hours. The first one only took 2.5 hours.
Are you freaking kidding me?
I thought I had a shot at an ER job at a local hospital and had talked with the unit manager and the hiring nurse on the phone. I had met the manager a year ago and he told me to call when I graduated. I did and when I hooked up with the hiring manager she was very positive and told me she had some openings and would bring me down for an interview once she had all her internal stuff taken care of.
Two weeks later she tells me that the hospital system is closing another hospital across town and they are going to try and fill all their open spots with the 200 or so displaced nurses.
Another area hospital is willing to talk to me, but they don’t have anything open full time. But they will call me when they do. I’m holding my breath.
And I have another connection with a hospital close to home. My best friend works with the husband of the head nurse recruiter there. He’s passed along my resume, and I’ve spoken to her too. But she wants to wait until I have my license to talk to me about a job.
The hospital where I did most of my training hasn’t called me for a single thing, try as I might.
I can’t do home care or go to a nursing home because I don’t have a license. Right now hospitals are my only option.
Most, if not all of the jobs I’ve seen posted require experienced nurses. It’s a buyer’s market out there. Experienced nurses are a dime a dozen and recruiters who were killing themselves to get warm bodies 18 months ago are now buried under piles of resumes.
The next person I hear tell me that everyone needs nurses and it’s a recession proof job is getting their teeth bent.
Sooner or later I will probably find a job, but right now it’s tight.
And for the record, I am a vindictive bastard. These places that won’t give me the time of day will, someday, be back to begging for RNs.
They will want me. I will remind them of this time. And if they kiss my ass enough I just might talk with them. But before I go to work there someone is going to write me one hell of an obscenely large check.
So, to all you hospitals and hospital recruiters out there, mark my words.
I will remember this. I will remind my nurse friends when the time comes.
It’s going to cost you in the long run. It’s going to cost you like you can’t imagine.
And I’ll be there.
Laughing.
As you all know, last year at this time I started a one year accelerated nursing program. I graduated with my Bachelors last December. I am still waiting for the state to get everything together so that I can sit for my boards. In the meantime I am looking for a job.
And right now it appears that there ain’t none. Between all the nurses who are going back to work now that their auto working spouses are unemployed, the nurses who have put off retirement and the hospitals that are closing units and facilities I (and most of my classmates) am getting screwed.
I understand this is the worst economy we’ve seen in something like four generations, but COME ON! I haven’t had a single interview, let alone a job offer. On Tuesday I sent out four applications for jobs and got four rejections inside of 18hours. The first one only took 2.5 hours.
Are you freaking kidding me?
I thought I had a shot at an ER job at a local hospital and had talked with the unit manager and the hiring nurse on the phone. I had met the manager a year ago and he told me to call when I graduated. I did and when I hooked up with the hiring manager she was very positive and told me she had some openings and would bring me down for an interview once she had all her internal stuff taken care of.
Two weeks later she tells me that the hospital system is closing another hospital across town and they are going to try and fill all their open spots with the 200 or so displaced nurses.
Another area hospital is willing to talk to me, but they don’t have anything open full time. But they will call me when they do. I’m holding my breath.
And I have another connection with a hospital close to home. My best friend works with the husband of the head nurse recruiter there. He’s passed along my resume, and I’ve spoken to her too. But she wants to wait until I have my license to talk to me about a job.
The hospital where I did most of my training hasn’t called me for a single thing, try as I might.
I can’t do home care or go to a nursing home because I don’t have a license. Right now hospitals are my only option.
Most, if not all of the jobs I’ve seen posted require experienced nurses. It’s a buyer’s market out there. Experienced nurses are a dime a dozen and recruiters who were killing themselves to get warm bodies 18 months ago are now buried under piles of resumes.
The next person I hear tell me that everyone needs nurses and it’s a recession proof job is getting their teeth bent.
Sooner or later I will probably find a job, but right now it’s tight.
And for the record, I am a vindictive bastard. These places that won’t give me the time of day will, someday, be back to begging for RNs.
They will want me. I will remind them of this time. And if they kiss my ass enough I just might talk with them. But before I go to work there someone is going to write me one hell of an obscenely large check.
So, to all you hospitals and hospital recruiters out there, mark my words.
I will remember this. I will remind my nurse friends when the time comes.
It’s going to cost you in the long run. It’s going to cost you like you can’t imagine.
And I’ll be there.
Laughing.
Wednesday, December 16, 2009
A Christmas Tradition
I posted this last year and as promised/threatened, I'm posting it again. Because it's my favorite Chrsitmas memory.
Both of my parents were/are totally nuts. Not usually bad (although Big Lou had a temper and Mom could handle herself in a fight) but funny, and, if you were their kid, often embarrassing to some degree.
Everything I am about to tell you is true. I witnessed it first hand.
In December of 1993 my father, Big Lou, worked for an auto company has never taken a loan from the government.
One of his friends was given some tickets to the Kenny Rogers Christmas Spectacular which was playing at the Fox Theater in downtown Detroit. Three of those tickets found their way to Big Lou.
So I put the folks in my car and we went downtown to see the show. When we got there it turned out that we had front row seats. Big Lou sat on the left-hand end of the row, then Mom and then me.
The opening act was Shelby Lynne, who, despite having a Sinead O’Conner haircut was pretty cute and very enjoyable.
When the curtains opened up to start the main act the music started and out comes Kenny Rogers. He’s carrying a bunch of tambourines and he starts tossing them into the crowd.
My mother suddenly turned into Arnold Horshack, waving her arms in the air, bouncing half out of her seat and yelling Oooo! Oooo! Kenny (I call him Kenny) sees her, and sensing her desperation tosses Mom a Tambourine and goes on with his opening number.
Then he talks to the crowd a bit and tells the lucky few Tambourinists how and when to provide accompaniment and goes on with the show. He does a song or two and then stops. The house lights come up and Kenny starts to talk again.
He tells the audience how much he likes to watch the crowd as he performs. He can always tell who his fans are when he sees them singing along to every song in his repertoire. And he can also spot people who have been dragged in against their will. “People like this guy” he says, pointing to my Father.
The subsequent conversation went something like this:
Kenny: What’s you name?
Big Lou: Lou!
Kenny: Lou, tell me the truth now, you won’t hurt my feelings. Would you say you’re a big fan and you know all my songs, kind of a fan and you know some of the songs, or not a fan at all?
Big Lou: Kind of a fan.
Kenny: Kind of a fan. OK, Lou. Prove it. I’ll tell you what. For every one of my songs that you can name, I’ll give you $10.
Naturally, Big Lou freezes like a skinny dipping Inuit. Mom and I start trying to feed him answers. “The Gambler, Ruby, Lucile, Coward of the County...”
But we get shushed by Kenny. “No helping” he says.
Big Lou: The Gambler
Kenny: The Gambler. (Sighs and rolls his eyes) Fine. Here you go.
And he tosses Big Lou a ten spot!
But now Big Lou is out of answers and Mom and I are just dying because this is freaking great.
So Kenny say’s “Tell you what Lou. Every time you hear one of my songs you know just raise your hand and I’ll give you $10. But you have to be honest. I trust you.”
Big Lou: OK!
So the band starts up again and here we go with Coward of the County. After the first few bars up goes Big Lou’s hand and Kenny stroll over to the corner of the stage. Without stopping the song he tosses Lou another $10. He does two more songs and the same thing happens. So now Big Lou is up $40 on the free tickets he got.
The band starts up again and within a few notes his hand shoots up. He’s not going to miss any of this free money. Kenny starts singing Happy Birthday and Big Lou gets busted. But we all laugh, a fifth song starts up and bam, another $10 for Lou.
So now Kenny stops to talk again. He says that now is the time in the show where he asks for volunteers from the audience. He says that there are some rules. If you get picked you have to come up and you can’t volunteer anyone else. But he can.
Kenny: Lou, you have $50 of my money. Come on up here.
So up goes Big Lou and Kenny shows him where to stand. Then he asks for more volunteers.
Again, Mom goes into her Ron Palilo routine and again, sensing her need, Kenny points to Mom and up she goes. Ten more people get picked and they all form a line on stage with Big Lou at the far end of stage left and Mom right next to him.
Meanwhile I’m loving every minute of this, it’s a riot.
Now Kenny grabs a stack of what look like 8x10 pieces of poster board and hands one to each of the people on stage. He announces that they’re all going to sing The 12 Days of Christmas. Each person will sing the line on the card while Kenny sings the rest of the lyrics.
The music starts up and Kenny sings “On the first day of Christmas my true love gave to me…”
Dads up first and even though he’s really a Baritone he’s always thought he was a Bass. In whatever the opposite of a falsetto is, he croaks out “…a partridge in a pear tree”.
Kenny stops.
The music stops.
Without a word he takes my father by the arm and moves him to the other end of the line, takes the last guys card and gives it to Big Lou and gives Big Lou’s card to the guy on the end. That guy gets moved up to the front to stand next to my Mom.
It’s a good crowd and they’re all laughing like hell and applauding. Big Lou is laughing along too. I’m in there in the front row and I must have been laughing harder than anyone else.
The music starts up again and Kenny sings “On the second day of Christmas my true love gave to me…”
Now it’s Mom’s turn. She used to sing in the church choir. She sings “… a partridge in a pear tree.”
Kenny is shocked.
The music stops and he tries to tell her it’s two turtle doves but Mom isn’t having it! She starts arguing with the man on stage in front of a packed house! She knows the words, and it’s a partridge in a pear tree! He finally points to the card in her hand and eventually it sinks in. Vintage Mom. It was absolutely perfect!
The audience is howling and I am sprawled across all three of our seats, laughing hysterically, and hoping that if I do actually die laughing that someone will resuscitate me fast enough to see the rest of the show.
They try it again and this time Mom comes through.
Finally it’s Big Lou’s turn again, the crowd applauds, the song ends and my parents and the other 10 people on stage all shake Kennys hand and return to their seats.
Kenny does a few more songs, Shelby Lynn comes out and they sing a duet and then the show ends.
As we leave the theater people are calling out to my Dad and he’s waving back, loving the attention “yeah, I got $50” he tells people who ask. I just walk along with Mom and Big Lou, smiling and bemused.
That is probably my favorite Christmas memory. If I ever get the chance to meet Kenny Rogers I fully intend to thank him for the great time, the great show and the great memory.
If you live in a place where he puts on a Christmas show, go see it. Even if you don’t end up in the front row I expect you’ll still enjoy it.
Now please, share a fun and funny holiday memory of your own.
Merry Christmas.
Both of my parents were/are totally nuts. Not usually bad (although Big Lou had a temper and Mom could handle herself in a fight) but funny, and, if you were their kid, often embarrassing to some degree.
Everything I am about to tell you is true. I witnessed it first hand.
In December of 1993 my father, Big Lou, worked for an auto company has never taken a loan from the government.
One of his friends was given some tickets to the Kenny Rogers Christmas Spectacular which was playing at the Fox Theater in downtown Detroit. Three of those tickets found their way to Big Lou.
So I put the folks in my car and we went downtown to see the show. When we got there it turned out that we had front row seats. Big Lou sat on the left-hand end of the row, then Mom and then me.
The opening act was Shelby Lynne, who, despite having a Sinead O’Conner haircut was pretty cute and very enjoyable.
When the curtains opened up to start the main act the music started and out comes Kenny Rogers. He’s carrying a bunch of tambourines and he starts tossing them into the crowd.
My mother suddenly turned into Arnold Horshack, waving her arms in the air, bouncing half out of her seat and yelling Oooo! Oooo! Kenny (I call him Kenny) sees her, and sensing her desperation tosses Mom a Tambourine and goes on with his opening number.
Then he talks to the crowd a bit and tells the lucky few Tambourinists how and when to provide accompaniment and goes on with the show. He does a song or two and then stops. The house lights come up and Kenny starts to talk again.
He tells the audience how much he likes to watch the crowd as he performs. He can always tell who his fans are when he sees them singing along to every song in his repertoire. And he can also spot people who have been dragged in against their will. “People like this guy” he says, pointing to my Father.
The subsequent conversation went something like this:
Kenny: What’s you name?
Big Lou: Lou!
Kenny: Lou, tell me the truth now, you won’t hurt my feelings. Would you say you’re a big fan and you know all my songs, kind of a fan and you know some of the songs, or not a fan at all?
Big Lou: Kind of a fan.
Kenny: Kind of a fan. OK, Lou. Prove it. I’ll tell you what. For every one of my songs that you can name, I’ll give you $10.
Naturally, Big Lou freezes like a skinny dipping Inuit. Mom and I start trying to feed him answers. “The Gambler, Ruby, Lucile, Coward of the County...”
But we get shushed by Kenny. “No helping” he says.
Big Lou: The Gambler
Kenny: The Gambler. (Sighs and rolls his eyes) Fine. Here you go.
And he tosses Big Lou a ten spot!
But now Big Lou is out of answers and Mom and I are just dying because this is freaking great.
So Kenny say’s “Tell you what Lou. Every time you hear one of my songs you know just raise your hand and I’ll give you $10. But you have to be honest. I trust you.”
Big Lou: OK!
So the band starts up again and here we go with Coward of the County. After the first few bars up goes Big Lou’s hand and Kenny stroll over to the corner of the stage. Without stopping the song he tosses Lou another $10. He does two more songs and the same thing happens. So now Big Lou is up $40 on the free tickets he got.
The band starts up again and within a few notes his hand shoots up. He’s not going to miss any of this free money. Kenny starts singing Happy Birthday and Big Lou gets busted. But we all laugh, a fifth song starts up and bam, another $10 for Lou.
So now Kenny stops to talk again. He says that now is the time in the show where he asks for volunteers from the audience. He says that there are some rules. If you get picked you have to come up and you can’t volunteer anyone else. But he can.
Kenny: Lou, you have $50 of my money. Come on up here.
So up goes Big Lou and Kenny shows him where to stand. Then he asks for more volunteers.
Again, Mom goes into her Ron Palilo routine and again, sensing her need, Kenny points to Mom and up she goes. Ten more people get picked and they all form a line on stage with Big Lou at the far end of stage left and Mom right next to him.
Meanwhile I’m loving every minute of this, it’s a riot.
Now Kenny grabs a stack of what look like 8x10 pieces of poster board and hands one to each of the people on stage. He announces that they’re all going to sing The 12 Days of Christmas. Each person will sing the line on the card while Kenny sings the rest of the lyrics.
The music starts up and Kenny sings “On the first day of Christmas my true love gave to me…”
Dads up first and even though he’s really a Baritone he’s always thought he was a Bass. In whatever the opposite of a falsetto is, he croaks out “…a partridge in a pear tree”.
Kenny stops.
The music stops.
Without a word he takes my father by the arm and moves him to the other end of the line, takes the last guys card and gives it to Big Lou and gives Big Lou’s card to the guy on the end. That guy gets moved up to the front to stand next to my Mom.
It’s a good crowd and they’re all laughing like hell and applauding. Big Lou is laughing along too. I’m in there in the front row and I must have been laughing harder than anyone else.
The music starts up again and Kenny sings “On the second day of Christmas my true love gave to me…”
Now it’s Mom’s turn. She used to sing in the church choir. She sings “… a partridge in a pear tree.”
Kenny is shocked.
The music stops and he tries to tell her it’s two turtle doves but Mom isn’t having it! She starts arguing with the man on stage in front of a packed house! She knows the words, and it’s a partridge in a pear tree! He finally points to the card in her hand and eventually it sinks in. Vintage Mom. It was absolutely perfect!
The audience is howling and I am sprawled across all three of our seats, laughing hysterically, and hoping that if I do actually die laughing that someone will resuscitate me fast enough to see the rest of the show.
They try it again and this time Mom comes through.
Finally it’s Big Lou’s turn again, the crowd applauds, the song ends and my parents and the other 10 people on stage all shake Kennys hand and return to their seats.
Kenny does a few more songs, Shelby Lynn comes out and they sing a duet and then the show ends.
As we leave the theater people are calling out to my Dad and he’s waving back, loving the attention “yeah, I got $50” he tells people who ask. I just walk along with Mom and Big Lou, smiling and bemused.
That is probably my favorite Christmas memory. If I ever get the chance to meet Kenny Rogers I fully intend to thank him for the great time, the great show and the great memory.
If you live in a place where he puts on a Christmas show, go see it. Even if you don’t end up in the front row I expect you’ll still enjoy it.
Now please, share a fun and funny holiday memory of your own.
Merry Christmas.
Sunday, September 20, 2009
Caption this photo
Alright, so I'm sitting in my regular spot at my regular time in my usual Panera writing papers and getting ready for a quiz tomorrow.
Then this guy shows up.
It's not a great shot, but I can tell you that there's a Ferrari logo on the side of his hat and there's no Ferrari visible in the parking lot and as far as I know there is no racing event going on locally that might explain it.
And there's a logo on the shirt as well.
Based on the lines I can see, the undershirt is a wifebeater, as required by law.
The shorts are cargo shorts and the little inserts in the pockets are white. The shoes (3/4 hightops) appear to match. They have a Ferrari patch too!
I haven't seen his face but I'm betting there's a thin, ratty adolescent mustache happening. Just saw the profile and I'm surprised to learn my guess was inaccurate. Hmph. How about that.
Maybe there'll be a ludicrous gold chain.
Nope. Rats.
But the shoes! They have the logo too!
And now there are matching sunglasses!
As ridiculous as he is, I have to admire his level of commitment. Lugi, the little tire salescar from the movie "Cars" wasn't this devoted. There's not a doubt in my mind about his first stop after he wins the lottery.
I wish I had some musical and lyrical talent. This guy needs to be immortalized in a Bud Lite "Real Men of Genius" spot.
I know it's mean, but really, if you don't want to be mocked by some anonymous guy on the internet then don't go out in public looking like this.
What are your thoughts?
Monday, September 14, 2009
My Favorite Poem
By Paul Gilmartin
Sister Joan, age 54, ignores the desert sun,
The stranded church bus smoking,
no sign of anyone.
Buzzards circle overhead, panic starts to set.
The kids are getting restless, her habit soaked with sweat.
The minutes become hours, she wobbles in the heat.
Then, a distant engine roars, approaching from the East.
She squints through horn-rimmed glasses, her pure heart skips a beat.
Snake McGinty's Harley Hog,
parts the dusty heat.
Black leather-clad from head to toe, his eyelids barely open,
Sister Joan says, "Holy Ghost,
please tell me that you're joking."
He parks his bike, stands six foot four, then gives her a nod.
Through leather pants his manhood shows,
she rolls her eyes at God.
"Havin' trouble?", he barely mumbles. "Yes sir", she replies.
He pops the hood, takes off his shirt, she covers up her eyes.
"Kids", she says, "Back on the bus. Everyone be good."
Her fingers part, her eyes take in
his reflection off the hood.
She grips her rosary tight with guilt and stares down at her socks.
Her mind protects her vows with God,
but her body picks the lock.
He bends to check the fan belt, her nipples say, "Hello".
Her eyes climb up his leather chaps
like a snail with vertigo.
She shuts her eyes and shakes her head, her legs start feeling funny.
"Lord", she says, "For work like this,
I'm making shitty money."
He shuts the hood, "My name is Snake, I'm wanted in five states."
She said, "Snake you're my forbidden fruit,
and I need a little taste."
The kids look on in disbelief. The kiss is slow, then faster.
Cheering rocks the school bus, till she says
"Snake let's ditch these bastards.
As they left, the kids screamed "No", she turned around and waved.
Her next confession killed a priest
and lasted seven days.
For years the scandal rocked the church, but she regained their trust.
She still teaches Sunday school,
but she doesn't drive the bus.
Sister Joan, age 54, ignores the desert sun,
The stranded church bus smoking,
no sign of anyone.
Buzzards circle overhead, panic starts to set.
The kids are getting restless, her habit soaked with sweat.
The minutes become hours, she wobbles in the heat.
Then, a distant engine roars, approaching from the East.
She squints through horn-rimmed glasses, her pure heart skips a beat.
Snake McGinty's Harley Hog,
parts the dusty heat.
Black leather-clad from head to toe, his eyelids barely open,
Sister Joan says, "Holy Ghost,
please tell me that you're joking."
He parks his bike, stands six foot four, then gives her a nod.
Through leather pants his manhood shows,
she rolls her eyes at God.
"Havin' trouble?", he barely mumbles. "Yes sir", she replies.
He pops the hood, takes off his shirt, she covers up her eyes.
"Kids", she says, "Back on the bus. Everyone be good."
Her fingers part, her eyes take in
his reflection off the hood.
She grips her rosary tight with guilt and stares down at her socks.
Her mind protects her vows with God,
but her body picks the lock.
He bends to check the fan belt, her nipples say, "Hello".
Her eyes climb up his leather chaps
like a snail with vertigo.
She shuts her eyes and shakes her head, her legs start feeling funny.
"Lord", she says, "For work like this,
I'm making shitty money."
He shuts the hood, "My name is Snake, I'm wanted in five states."
She said, "Snake you're my forbidden fruit,
and I need a little taste."
The kids look on in disbelief. The kiss is slow, then faster.
Cheering rocks the school bus, till she says
"Snake let's ditch these bastards.
As they left, the kids screamed "No", she turned around and waved.
Her next confession killed a priest
and lasted seven days.
For years the scandal rocked the church, but she regained their trust.
She still teaches Sunday school,
but she doesn't drive the bus.
Thursday, September 10, 2009
Because the internet needs my opinion
Here's how to fix healthcare in a few easy steps:
#1- Go back to the old model of health insurance being there for catastrophes. Your auto insurance doesn't pay for oil changes, new tires or wiper blades, and your homeowner’s policy won’t pay for landscaping or roof repair.
#2- Stop letting insurance companies manipulate the market by setting the prices that Dr's charge. The Docs and the Hospitals will figure out ways to get what they need (like charging $30 for 10 ml of saline to flush your IV line).
Here's an analogy for what happens now. Let's say you go grocery shopping and fill your cart with all the things you need to feed yourself and family for a week. You go up to the checkout where the groceries are rung up and the total comes to $165. You look at the receipt item by item and decide what you're going to pay. Then you hand the cashier $97.43 and walk out. (This is what insurance companies do when they get the bill your doc submits).
If you did the same thing at the grocery store every week it wouldn't take long before the grocery store started charging cart rental fees, promotional program recovery surcharges, and raising the price of ground chuck to $12.99 per pound.
#3 Tort reform. I kind of like the European model of loser pays. That means that if you sue and lose you have to pay the other guys court costs. If you win, they pay yours. It lessens the likelihood of frivolous lawsuits. Limiting awards might be a good idea as well. Less risk to the Docs would mean less need for defensive medicine and less strain on resources. Not everyone needs an MRI for a sprained ankle.
If we went back to fee for service medicine you’d see more Doc’s going in to general medicine. At the same time you’d be able to see your doc usually same day and he or she would spend more than 3 minutes with you while you were in the exam room. You might even see a return to the old days when there was a town doctor who made housecalls, charged reasonably and still made a great living. And it will be because the docs will charge what patients can afford; just like every other business on the planet does.
Did you know that most pediatricians make about $90-95K per year? For 10 years of extra educations and student loan debt larger than a lot of mortgages? No thanks. GP's don't make much more. That's why med students specialize.
Stop trying to fix things, throw the insurance lobbyists (and the rest of the special interests on both sides of the isle) out of our capitols and let the market control itself.
I guarantee things will get better fast.
And remember to ask yourself “When was the last time the government did something right, or at least better than the private sector?”
I have more, but you get the gist
#1- Go back to the old model of health insurance being there for catastrophes. Your auto insurance doesn't pay for oil changes, new tires or wiper blades, and your homeowner’s policy won’t pay for landscaping or roof repair.
#2- Stop letting insurance companies manipulate the market by setting the prices that Dr's charge. The Docs and the Hospitals will figure out ways to get what they need (like charging $30 for 10 ml of saline to flush your IV line).
Here's an analogy for what happens now. Let's say you go grocery shopping and fill your cart with all the things you need to feed yourself and family for a week. You go up to the checkout where the groceries are rung up and the total comes to $165. You look at the receipt item by item and decide what you're going to pay. Then you hand the cashier $97.43 and walk out. (This is what insurance companies do when they get the bill your doc submits).
If you did the same thing at the grocery store every week it wouldn't take long before the grocery store started charging cart rental fees, promotional program recovery surcharges, and raising the price of ground chuck to $12.99 per pound.
#3 Tort reform. I kind of like the European model of loser pays. That means that if you sue and lose you have to pay the other guys court costs. If you win, they pay yours. It lessens the likelihood of frivolous lawsuits. Limiting awards might be a good idea as well. Less risk to the Docs would mean less need for defensive medicine and less strain on resources. Not everyone needs an MRI for a sprained ankle.
If we went back to fee for service medicine you’d see more Doc’s going in to general medicine. At the same time you’d be able to see your doc usually same day and he or she would spend more than 3 minutes with you while you were in the exam room. You might even see a return to the old days when there was a town doctor who made housecalls, charged reasonably and still made a great living. And it will be because the docs will charge what patients can afford; just like every other business on the planet does.
Did you know that most pediatricians make about $90-95K per year? For 10 years of extra educations and student loan debt larger than a lot of mortgages? No thanks. GP's don't make much more. That's why med students specialize.
Stop trying to fix things, throw the insurance lobbyists (and the rest of the special interests on both sides of the isle) out of our capitols and let the market control itself.
I guarantee things will get better fast.
And remember to ask yourself “When was the last time the government did something right, or at least better than the private sector?”
I have more, but you get the gist
Wednesday, September 9, 2009
Helping Hands
Jeff over at The West Virginia Surf Report asked for Good Samaritan stories this afternoon. Here's what I said:
I have two Good Samaritan stories.
The first one happened when I was about 20. I was home from college and my little brother was home sick from school with mono. I went up the road to the video store to rent some movies for him. As I was walking around the corner of the store from the parking lot I spied a little grey tumbleweed across the road.
When I looked closer, it was the top of an old ladies head. She was face down and appeared to have fallen while crossing a side street on the other side of the 4 lane road we were on. She was sort of wiggling around, trying to get up and so I went running over, knelt down and asked her if she was alright.
She looked up at me with a pretty good scrape on the bridge of her nose and said “I’m drunk!” in the kind of old-lady voice that is only possible after years of cigarette and whiskey use.
Crap.
She was wearing a jacket with the logo of a bar across the street, so when someone else stopped to help I went over there and asked if anyone knew her. They did, and said they “hate that old bitch”.
Unbelievable.
The guy who stopped to help was still there when I came back so he helped me get her up and he drove her home.
Story number 2
A few months ago Mona and I were on an interstate going to drop The Peanut off at my mother-in-laws house.
As we approached the cloverleaf interchange to another highway we saw a car up on the embankment just past the off ramp but before the overpass. The driver’s door was open and there was a woman lying on the ground while another woman holding her head.
We pulled over and as I was getting close another guy started rolling up what looked like an envelope and was yelling “Open her mouth!” I asked if she was seizing, was told yes, and told him not to put anything in her mouth and to just let her seize.
I jumped over the ditch and asked what happened.
Envelope guy told me something, and over the traffic noise I hear “shot herself”. Shit. So now I’m looking for blood and I asked him to say it again. He tells me she shot herself up with something and points to the car. On the driver’s seat is an insulin needle and a tiny Ziploc baggie. Shit again. The guy said they saw her just swerve across the road and stop on the embankment.
I knelt down, checked her breathing and pulse and then looked at her pupils. She was OK but very clearly stoned and totally out of it.
A state trooper and the paramedics showed up just then. I just walked away.
Seriously, I know you’re an addict, but even so, shooting up on a road where the speed limit is 70 MPH and most cares are going closer to 80!?! WTF!
It was incredible that she didn’t kill anyone. And I’ll bet she was pretty pissed when the ER gave her some Narcan and totally killed her high.
So apparently I only rescue people with addiction issues.
I have two Good Samaritan stories.
The first one happened when I was about 20. I was home from college and my little brother was home sick from school with mono. I went up the road to the video store to rent some movies for him. As I was walking around the corner of the store from the parking lot I spied a little grey tumbleweed across the road.
When I looked closer, it was the top of an old ladies head. She was face down and appeared to have fallen while crossing a side street on the other side of the 4 lane road we were on. She was sort of wiggling around, trying to get up and so I went running over, knelt down and asked her if she was alright.
She looked up at me with a pretty good scrape on the bridge of her nose and said “I’m drunk!” in the kind of old-lady voice that is only possible after years of cigarette and whiskey use.
Crap.
She was wearing a jacket with the logo of a bar across the street, so when someone else stopped to help I went over there and asked if anyone knew her. They did, and said they “hate that old bitch”.
Unbelievable.
The guy who stopped to help was still there when I came back so he helped me get her up and he drove her home.
Story number 2
A few months ago Mona and I were on an interstate going to drop The Peanut off at my mother-in-laws house.
As we approached the cloverleaf interchange to another highway we saw a car up on the embankment just past the off ramp but before the overpass. The driver’s door was open and there was a woman lying on the ground while another woman holding her head.
We pulled over and as I was getting close another guy started rolling up what looked like an envelope and was yelling “Open her mouth!” I asked if she was seizing, was told yes, and told him not to put anything in her mouth and to just let her seize.
I jumped over the ditch and asked what happened.
Envelope guy told me something, and over the traffic noise I hear “shot herself”. Shit. So now I’m looking for blood and I asked him to say it again. He tells me she shot herself up with something and points to the car. On the driver’s seat is an insulin needle and a tiny Ziploc baggie. Shit again. The guy said they saw her just swerve across the road and stop on the embankment.
I knelt down, checked her breathing and pulse and then looked at her pupils. She was OK but very clearly stoned and totally out of it.
A state trooper and the paramedics showed up just then. I just walked away.
Seriously, I know you’re an addict, but even so, shooting up on a road where the speed limit is 70 MPH and most cares are going closer to 80!?! WTF!
It was incredible that she didn’t kill anyone. And I’ll bet she was pretty pissed when the ER gave her some Narcan and totally killed her high.
So apparently I only rescue people with addiction issues.
Tuesday, September 1, 2009
Word goulash
It's 12:45 AM and I'm sitting here in room 314 of the hospital where I do my clinicals with my Mother-in-law who had a total mastectomy of her right breast yesterday afternoon. My presence here was not part of the plan. I'm here because Grandma Hildegard was freaked out after surgery and wanted someone to spend the night. Her husband, Mona's step-father can't stay (in my opinion it's due to a lack of character and intestinal fortitude), Mona is too tired and my sister-in-law has two kids at home and has to work on the other side of town tomorrow. So I stepped up. I am Iron Man.
I was hoping to get some sleep but I don't think it's going to happen. Grandma Hildegard snores.
Lucky for me it's still semester break, so this isn't going to wreck me for school. And interestingly enough (to me anyway) this is the unit I'll be working on when we do get back. I can't decide whether or not to tell the nurse (or nurses) my story. Part of me wants to just so that I can take some liberties with regard to things like checking charts and asking questions that might be frowned upon were I just some guy off the street. The other part of me wants to keep quiet and scope the place out some. I've never worked on this unit and I like the idea of being able to observe incognito, if you will.
How was school you ask? Fine. Came through the last semester with 3 A's and a B (a freaking B!). That brings my GPA down to a 3.77. I don't want it to go any lower. I hear the last semester is better, so hopefully I'll be fine. I know it's shorter. We only have 8 weeks of classes and then it's off to our preceptorships where we work in the hospital full time with one nurse, covering his or her patients. 180 hours doing that and then I graduate, so the light is definitely at the end of the tunnel.
Then I just have to find a job. And to my great shock and horror, nursing jobs are actually pretty thin on the ground. Hard to believe I know, but that's what happens when the economy tanks like this. And I don't mean like it has where you are (unless you're actually here). I live in the Detroit area. The latest unemployment numbers show nearly 18% unemployment in the metro area and just under 30% in the city itself.
You might think that would have little effect on nursing jobs. People still get sick and hurt right? There's a nursing shortage, isn't there? Well, sort of.
You see, when the auto industry tanked (for the love of God people, start buying American will you?) a lot of people lost jobs. Auto workers, suppliers, tradespeople, vendors, etc. And when if became apparent that those jobs would be gone for a while all the nurses who were staying home while their spouse worked reentered the labor force (burnout and families help to create the perceived shortage) in order to keep the bills paid.
At the same time, nurses who were planning on retiring changed their minds when their 401k's dried up and blew away.
Finally, as more and more people lost insurance and went on Medicaid or simply were unable to pay their bills hospitals were forced to close whole units and floors in order to cut costs. Nurses aren't getting laid off, but they're being moved into unfilled slots or sent to other affiliated hospitals that have openings.
The result is few jobs.
Up until earlier this evening I was toying with the idea of joining the Airforce reserve and working as a nurse there. But it looks like I'd end up deployed overseas somewhere and Mona is not interested in that at all. She's worried I'd get shot. I've suggested to her that I could specialize in obstetrics (which I really enjoyed) which should keep me away from the shooting since mothers in their 3rd trimester almost never go to combat, but I don't know of that would even keep me inactive. So I don't think I'll be signing up. Had I done this before I met her I think I would. It a job that fascinates me and I like the idea of serving in the military. Maybe I'll just try and work at the VA. That way I can still give back a little.
I drive like a person who has someplace to be. It seems that most of the people who drive on my roads (yes, they're mine, I own them) don't feel the same way. They dawdle. They lolligag. They obstruct. They frustrate me.
Now that The Peanut can understand and repeat things, I have learned to call these prius shaped pylons Yahoos when she is in the car. I tell her things like “Peanut, tell these Yahoos to get out of Daddy's way!” She pipes up with “Get out of the way, Yahoos!” Last week we were all driving somewhere when she asked me “Daddy, why do you say Yahoos?” I looked at Mona and under my breath said “It's because Mommy gets mad when I say MotherF&#*er”
Last weekend Mona and I took a trip to Chicago. There were only 2 things I wanted to do while I was there: go to the Shedd Aquarium and have an Italian Beef sandwich (preferably from Al's). Mission accomplished. I haven't had an Italian Beef since April of 2003. And it was every bit as good as I remember.
What's an Italian Beef you ask? It's sort of like a Philly cheese steak (and yes, I've been to Pat's in Philly so I know what I'm talking about) but instead of putting fried onions on the sandwich they put Italian gardinera, which is sort of pickled hot peppers, celery, cauliflower, sometimes carrots (there's also a sweet version, but I love the hot) and they take the whole thing and submerge it in the broth (sort of like au jus) that the meat has been in all day, wrap it in 6 or 7 layers of waxed butcher paper and foil and serve it. Best sandwich ever. Seriously. I am amazed that they haven't caught on in the rest of the country.
We stayed just a couple of blocks off of the Miracle Mile (the Midwestern version of 5th Avenue). One day while wandering around the city, Mona asked me to go into a store called the American Girl store with her.
Has anyone ever heard of this place? They sell dolls. Their own line of dolls. You can even pick out dolls that have your hair. Skin and eye color so that your doll looks like you. Then you can buy matching clothes for you and the doll. And doll accessories. Like bunk beds with bedding. For over $200. On the top floor behind all the stuff for sale is sort of a little mall. They have a cafe where you can eat and a “hospital” where your doll can be repaired as necessary. Before you get to the cafe or the hospital you see a line of people all with frenzied little girls standing in a rope line in front of a counter that's about 30 feet long and slightly concave. On the top of the counter are little swivel chairs, and behind the chairs are American Girl employees. It's their job to, for $20, (and I swear this is true) give your doll a hairstyle! Ohmygodohmygodohmygod. It's the end of the world.
Now anyone who has ever read anything I've written should by now hopefully understand that I am an unabashed and unapologetic capitalist. I believe in the free market and peoples right to make as much money as they can within the confines of the law.
But this place is too much, even for me.
A fucking doll hair salon? Matching outfits for your daughter and her doll? Three figure doll accessories? And streams of parents and grandparents lining up to pack the place full of cash? Unbelievable. It was so over the top that I was actually offended by the time we left. It was just immoral. How the hell can anyone, even Bill freaking Gates, justify spending that kind of money on a creepy doll? How?
As much as I rant, I can't do it justice. It's simply too appalling for words.
And it's now 2:07 AM. I'm getting pretty sleepy, so I'm going to try and nod off. You are now more or less up to date.
Monday, August 10, 2009
Almost there
So I took my final in my big class today (the one that combined maternity, child and adult nursing into one gigantic ball of knowledge and stress which was then hurled at our heads like a late winter gravel-filled slushball) and got an 89%. That's enough for a solid B and I'll happily take it.
All the other classes are done. I have two more days at the hospital (which is really just going there to get our evaluations) and I'm off for 3 weeks (four weekends). The Peanut is staying in daycare, so it's going to be an actual break for me. I'm glad, because I think I need it. Normally I don;t need vacations. I used to take them just because I had the time and it was kind of expected. But this one I feel like I earned. It was a long, stressful grind and I'm glad it's behind me. Another 8 weeks of classes to go, then 180 hours working with a nurse one-on-one and then I have to find a job and pass my boards. Anyone want to help me find some gainful employment come January? Hello?
That's the short update. I really came here to post something that I had to write for one of my classes. It was kind of a blow-off class. I called it my pallet cleanser. It didn't require any studying, just showing up and talking about "issues". All in all I enjoyed it. I'm all about issues.
Anyway, one of the issues that we talked about was a trend in hospitals for nurses to cover up their last names on their name tags. We were given a couple of articles on the issue and were asked to write a short position paper. It was really short, but I made it as long as I could get away with without being way over the assignment limits. As a result it's pretty tight and less developed than it could be. But like I said, I think it's an interesting issue. Have a look if you've a mind to, and tell me what you think. Here it is (citations available upon request):
American culture has become less and less formal in recent years. In most businesses employees are on a first name basis with everyone else, right up to the CEO. Business casual is the new dress code in many places, and in some sectors blue jeans and t-shirts are the norm. The president of the United States has revised White House dress codes, no longer requiring suit jackets be worn at all times. Polo shirts and khakis can even be found on tellers and loan officers in many banks, which have traditionally been the most staid and sober of institutions. In hospitals nurses have abandoned the traditional starched whites in favor of a mix of scrubs and logo shirts. It's worth noting here that physicians have yet to discard their long white coats.
In many places nurse have not only abandoned their uniforms, they've given up their last names. Most seem to have done it gladly, accepting the new American informality with scarcely a thought. They introduce themselves by their first name, and in some cases take steps to conceal their surnames. Concealing last names or credentials is an issue being addressed by Nursing’s governing bodies in various states (Powell & Malone, 2002) with a variety of results; but still patients call for nurses using first names and physicians and other staff generally use a nurse’s first name while in a patients room and no one thinks anything of it. Nurses accept and encourage this practice generally.
A physician was asked by the author how she refers to nurses when in front of a patient, and was told that if the nurse is in the room she usually uses a first name. Were she to encounter a nurse who insisted on being address by his or her title and last name in when in front of a patient she would consider that nurse somewhat cold, snooty and pretentious. Conversely, she expects to be referred to as “Doctor”. She feels that patients want their physicians, even the female ones, to take a paternal role, essentially telling patients what they must do, allowing patients to abdicate their decision making rights completely. Nursing, she noted is more maternal and intimate, and the use of a first name makes establishing a relationship easier. The physician suggested that using a nurse’s first name makes patients more comfortable.
Some of her points regarding a nurse’s relationship to a patient feel true. Most of us would address our attorney by their first name, yet they seem to retain their status. But in court, the judge addresses those attorneys with the Mr. or Ms. honorific, followed by their last name. Attorneys of course address the judge by title or honorific, and fail to do so at their own peril. Formality and at least the outward appearance of respect are expected. It would seem that the analogy in this case fails to hold up.
Opposite this, an example that comes to mind is a server in a restaurant. It's not uncommon to be seated at a table and have a waiter or waitress arrive with a name tag that reads “Jennifer C”. Jennifer C then introduces herself by saying something like “Hi, I'm Jenny, I'll be your server tonight. Can I get you something to drink?” Substitute server for nurse and you have a scene that plays out in hospitals all around the country every day. If nurses are unable to separate themselves from the staff at the local Denny's how can we expect the general public to know the difference between the 23 year old college senior refilling their water glass and the 23 year old baccalaureate prepared ICU nurse holding an IV bag and managing fluid and electrolytes at their loved-one's bedside?
The use of last names sometimes brings out strong emotions when nurses are asked opinions on the issue. Most seem to cite the need for security, talking about patients and families who may make threats or become obsessed with the nurse to the point of harassment and stalking. Here again this seems to be less of a concern for physicians, even those who happen to be young and female. Perhaps there is a difference in maturity level between a 20 year old with an ADN (associate degree) and a 26 year old first year resident. Age, experience, education and the almost Olympian authority bestowed by the letters MD may provide a degree of protection that the young nurse does not enjoy. However, while planning this paper, nurses who did cite security always had anecdotes that involved a friend of a friend. None claimed to have been stalked, threatened or attacked personally. Google searches were performed on keywords “nurse attacked”, “nurse threatened” and “nurse stalked” and the first 100 returns were checked. When combined with attacked or threatened, it appeared that it was more often the nurse who was attacking or threatening someone. In the cases where a nurse was attacked, the fact that the victim was a nurse appeared to be coincidental unless the attack occurred in a patient care setting. Stalking does seem to be a more significant issue, but still most of the evidence reviewed was anecdotal with only a few exceptions.
Gordon and Grady suggest that using nurse’s first names while at the same time insisting on titles for physician’s subtlety demeans and devalues the nurse and his or her role in the eyes of the patient, the physician, and within the profession of nursing itself. They argue that using our last names and credentials will help nurses win and retain the position of respect that they have earned (Gordon & Grady, 1995).
The arguments for allowing informality seem fairly weak overall, and nurses need to start recognizing it. In giving up our surnames along with the titles we have earned we give up or fail to gain respect from our patients, their physicians, and most importantly, from ourselves. In concealing our names and credentials we deny our identities and imply that a patient hasn’t the right to know the name of his or her caregiver. None of these things are acceptable. Nurses will stop being treated as second class citizens as soon as we stop behaving like second class citizens.
All the other classes are done. I have two more days at the hospital (which is really just going there to get our evaluations) and I'm off for 3 weeks (four weekends). The Peanut is staying in daycare, so it's going to be an actual break for me. I'm glad, because I think I need it. Normally I don;t need vacations. I used to take them just because I had the time and it was kind of expected. But this one I feel like I earned. It was a long, stressful grind and I'm glad it's behind me. Another 8 weeks of classes to go, then 180 hours working with a nurse one-on-one and then I have to find a job and pass my boards. Anyone want to help me find some gainful employment come January? Hello?
That's the short update. I really came here to post something that I had to write for one of my classes. It was kind of a blow-off class. I called it my pallet cleanser. It didn't require any studying, just showing up and talking about "issues". All in all I enjoyed it. I'm all about issues.
Anyway, one of the issues that we talked about was a trend in hospitals for nurses to cover up their last names on their name tags. We were given a couple of articles on the issue and were asked to write a short position paper. It was really short, but I made it as long as I could get away with without being way over the assignment limits. As a result it's pretty tight and less developed than it could be. But like I said, I think it's an interesting issue. Have a look if you've a mind to, and tell me what you think. Here it is (citations available upon request):
American culture has become less and less formal in recent years. In most businesses employees are on a first name basis with everyone else, right up to the CEO. Business casual is the new dress code in many places, and in some sectors blue jeans and t-shirts are the norm. The president of the United States has revised White House dress codes, no longer requiring suit jackets be worn at all times. Polo shirts and khakis can even be found on tellers and loan officers in many banks, which have traditionally been the most staid and sober of institutions. In hospitals nurses have abandoned the traditional starched whites in favor of a mix of scrubs and logo shirts. It's worth noting here that physicians have yet to discard their long white coats.
In many places nurse have not only abandoned their uniforms, they've given up their last names. Most seem to have done it gladly, accepting the new American informality with scarcely a thought. They introduce themselves by their first name, and in some cases take steps to conceal their surnames. Concealing last names or credentials is an issue being addressed by Nursing’s governing bodies in various states (Powell & Malone, 2002) with a variety of results; but still patients call for nurses using first names and physicians and other staff generally use a nurse’s first name while in a patients room and no one thinks anything of it. Nurses accept and encourage this practice generally.
A physician was asked by the author how she refers to nurses when in front of a patient, and was told that if the nurse is in the room she usually uses a first name. Were she to encounter a nurse who insisted on being address by his or her title and last name in when in front of a patient she would consider that nurse somewhat cold, snooty and pretentious. Conversely, she expects to be referred to as “Doctor”. She feels that patients want their physicians, even the female ones, to take a paternal role, essentially telling patients what they must do, allowing patients to abdicate their decision making rights completely. Nursing, she noted is more maternal and intimate, and the use of a first name makes establishing a relationship easier. The physician suggested that using a nurse’s first name makes patients more comfortable.
Some of her points regarding a nurse’s relationship to a patient feel true. Most of us would address our attorney by their first name, yet they seem to retain their status. But in court, the judge addresses those attorneys with the Mr. or Ms. honorific, followed by their last name. Attorneys of course address the judge by title or honorific, and fail to do so at their own peril. Formality and at least the outward appearance of respect are expected. It would seem that the analogy in this case fails to hold up.
Opposite this, an example that comes to mind is a server in a restaurant. It's not uncommon to be seated at a table and have a waiter or waitress arrive with a name tag that reads “Jennifer C”. Jennifer C then introduces herself by saying something like “Hi, I'm Jenny, I'll be your server tonight. Can I get you something to drink?” Substitute server for nurse and you have a scene that plays out in hospitals all around the country every day. If nurses are unable to separate themselves from the staff at the local Denny's how can we expect the general public to know the difference between the 23 year old college senior refilling their water glass and the 23 year old baccalaureate prepared ICU nurse holding an IV bag and managing fluid and electrolytes at their loved-one's bedside?
The use of last names sometimes brings out strong emotions when nurses are asked opinions on the issue. Most seem to cite the need for security, talking about patients and families who may make threats or become obsessed with the nurse to the point of harassment and stalking. Here again this seems to be less of a concern for physicians, even those who happen to be young and female. Perhaps there is a difference in maturity level between a 20 year old with an ADN (associate degree) and a 26 year old first year resident. Age, experience, education and the almost Olympian authority bestowed by the letters MD may provide a degree of protection that the young nurse does not enjoy. However, while planning this paper, nurses who did cite security always had anecdotes that involved a friend of a friend. None claimed to have been stalked, threatened or attacked personally. Google searches were performed on keywords “nurse attacked”, “nurse threatened” and “nurse stalked” and the first 100 returns were checked. When combined with attacked or threatened, it appeared that it was more often the nurse who was attacking or threatening someone. In the cases where a nurse was attacked, the fact that the victim was a nurse appeared to be coincidental unless the attack occurred in a patient care setting. Stalking does seem to be a more significant issue, but still most of the evidence reviewed was anecdotal with only a few exceptions.
Gordon and Grady suggest that using nurse’s first names while at the same time insisting on titles for physician’s subtlety demeans and devalues the nurse and his or her role in the eyes of the patient, the physician, and within the profession of nursing itself. They argue that using our last names and credentials will help nurses win and retain the position of respect that they have earned (Gordon & Grady, 1995).
The arguments for allowing informality seem fairly weak overall, and nurses need to start recognizing it. In giving up our surnames along with the titles we have earned we give up or fail to gain respect from our patients, their physicians, and most importantly, from ourselves. In concealing our names and credentials we deny our identities and imply that a patient hasn’t the right to know the name of his or her caregiver. None of these things are acceptable. Nurses will stop being treated as second class citizens as soon as we stop behaving like second class citizens.
Saturday, June 27, 2009
Wow, its been a while, hasn't it...
First of all, I apologize to everyone who I've been neglecting for a while. I do still stop by your places, but I generally do it on my mobile device and don't have much time for commenting. But I'm lurking and one day plan to get back to being the old, pre-nursing school me.
Yes, I'm still here. Everything is as good as can reasonably be expected and a little stressful. It's manageable, but man, am I busy. I'm also dumping a lot of stuff on Mona because I'm always at the books. She's holding up, but it's tough on her too.
School is ok, grades are generally good with one test that was a B- (I contend the test was poorly written, my grade was top 7 or so) and a lot of busy work and more studying than I care for.
I'm at a local Panera and am taking a break right now from reading for a test on Monday. I'll pass, it's just annoying.
Clinicals are good. I'm on a medical/surgical floor on Wednesdays and doing labor and delivery on Thursday and Friday. Classes are Monday and Tuesday. Med/Surg is what it is. A couple of weeks ago I had a patient poop on the floor after telling me he didn't need to go when I asked him 3 minutes earlier. Then he pooped again. And again. The last 2 times we got him on the toilet. Oh, the glamour.
I am really liking labor and delivery. It's a good atmosphere and the nurses and the doctors all work well together. That's not really the case on most hospital floors. I hear ER is a similar environment in that regard, but I don't think I'll get to find out (long story) while I'm in school. Right now, if given a choice, I would happily go to work on L&D.
In two weeks we leave L&D and go to pediatrics. I think at least some of my time might be in the peds ER, but it's more like urgent care. Trauma and really serious stuff goes to the children's hospital at the big university 10 minutes away. That might be cool. I hear from the others that most of what they are getting is simple stuff and a fair amount of swine flu.
I took a break and went to a nursing message board and read a story about an older student who graduated and then took her Nursing Board (called the N-CLEX) exam. It's something that every graduate nurse and student fears and dreads. And I'm sure it's the same for every profession that requires a licensing exam. I've heard more than one person say they leave the testing center and vomit in the parking lot.
Anyway, I read the little story and a few of the comments and found myself starting to tear up. And then I started laughing at myself. Right in the middle of Panera. Luckily there aren't many people in here.
But that little episode tells me I might be feeling a little more stress than I'm willing to admit. Which is why I'm taking a few minutes to write this all down. Hopefully I can get at least a little of this off my chest.
I am easily in the top third of my class. I am good on the floor and in front of patients. My instructors like me, as do the nurses I work with (I'm basing this on the feedback I get from the clinical instructors).
Intellectually I know that I am going to pass all my classes and I'll pass my boards. As much as there is to know, it's not rocket science. But I still get a little freaked out from time to time. I'll be OK. Really I will.
This semester ends in mid-August. They say the third semester is a lot easier. Right now I just need to make it to August. I will make it to August.
Holy crap, why isn't it August yet??!!
Here's my nursing self diagnosis: Impaired coping related to educational and family stress as evidenced by simultaneously crying and laughing in Panera.
Yes, I'm still here. Everything is as good as can reasonably be expected and a little stressful. It's manageable, but man, am I busy. I'm also dumping a lot of stuff on Mona because I'm always at the books. She's holding up, but it's tough on her too.
School is ok, grades are generally good with one test that was a B- (I contend the test was poorly written, my grade was top 7 or so) and a lot of busy work and more studying than I care for.
I'm at a local Panera and am taking a break right now from reading for a test on Monday. I'll pass, it's just annoying.
Clinicals are good. I'm on a medical/surgical floor on Wednesdays and doing labor and delivery on Thursday and Friday. Classes are Monday and Tuesday. Med/Surg is what it is. A couple of weeks ago I had a patient poop on the floor after telling me he didn't need to go when I asked him 3 minutes earlier. Then he pooped again. And again. The last 2 times we got him on the toilet. Oh, the glamour.
I am really liking labor and delivery. It's a good atmosphere and the nurses and the doctors all work well together. That's not really the case on most hospital floors. I hear ER is a similar environment in that regard, but I don't think I'll get to find out (long story) while I'm in school. Right now, if given a choice, I would happily go to work on L&D.
In two weeks we leave L&D and go to pediatrics. I think at least some of my time might be in the peds ER, but it's more like urgent care. Trauma and really serious stuff goes to the children's hospital at the big university 10 minutes away. That might be cool. I hear from the others that most of what they are getting is simple stuff and a fair amount of swine flu.
I took a break and went to a nursing message board and read a story about an older student who graduated and then took her Nursing Board (called the N-CLEX) exam. It's something that every graduate nurse and student fears and dreads. And I'm sure it's the same for every profession that requires a licensing exam. I've heard more than one person say they leave the testing center and vomit in the parking lot.
Anyway, I read the little story and a few of the comments and found myself starting to tear up. And then I started laughing at myself. Right in the middle of Panera. Luckily there aren't many people in here.
But that little episode tells me I might be feeling a little more stress than I'm willing to admit. Which is why I'm taking a few minutes to write this all down. Hopefully I can get at least a little of this off my chest.
I am easily in the top third of my class. I am good on the floor and in front of patients. My instructors like me, as do the nurses I work with (I'm basing this on the feedback I get from the clinical instructors).
Intellectually I know that I am going to pass all my classes and I'll pass my boards. As much as there is to know, it's not rocket science. But I still get a little freaked out from time to time. I'll be OK. Really I will.
This semester ends in mid-August. They say the third semester is a lot easier. Right now I just need to make it to August. I will make it to August.
Holy crap, why isn't it August yet??!!
Here's my nursing self diagnosis: Impaired coping related to educational and family stress as evidenced by simultaneously crying and laughing in Panera.
Thursday, April 16, 2009
Not To Put Too Fine a Point On It...
... but my grade are pretty much finalized now. So I thought I'd share. I'm changing some of the names of the classes just to be a little less searchable.
How to give someone a physical, nurse style (2 Credits) A (~98%)
All the basics of Nursing and The basics of being a nurse on a psych floor (5 Credits) : A (98.3%)
An overview of nursing issues (2 Credits): A (~98%)
Drug, drugs, and more drugs (3 Credits): A- (91.6%)
How diseases work (4 Credits): A- (~92.4%)
Actually working in a hospital and in mental ward: (5 Credits) A (~97%)
That should make my GPA a 3.9
Here's the thing. I don't find it all that difficult from an intellectual standpoint. It keeps me busy, especially the parts where I have to write papers, but I don;t struggle to "understand" the content. To tell the truth, so far it's mostly been common sense.
I am pleased with my performance, but to a certain extent I feel like I'm just performing at the level that I expected. I can live with a B if its a nice high B, but in truth I expect to get A's. So getting an A doesn't feel like an achievement. It's more like a milestone to me.
I suppose that's both good and bad. Good in the sense that I hold myself to a relatively high standard, bad in that there is little joy in what amounts to very good performance. I'm also concerned that I'll expect The Peanut to always bring home A's. And that would be unfair, especially considering my high school GPA was something like a 2.5 The only C's I ever got in college were Accounting I and II. I can understand Chemistry and Physics and Statistics without a problem, but accounting remains a mystery.
At any rate, it's something that I intend to look out for. I tell her now that she's my favorite Peanut because she is so smart, so nice and so cute. I want to keep reinforcing that (hopefully in more sophisticated ways) as she gets older. I want a kid who is smart, confident and tough. But I digress.
The real upside of the GPA is that if I can keep it up I'll get into graduate school pretty easily, if that's really what I want. I got into this program with the idea that Ic ould always return to sales, but I don't know if I really want to do that. Even though you can make a heck of a good living, it's always uncertain.
But the more I go to school the more I wonder if just staying in patient care is the better choice. I think I could move into management pretty easily, just because I have a business background and I'm male. The faculty has told us to expect to move into management just on the basis of our having dual degrees. We're sort of expected to be leaders.
If I don't choose administration, I could do grad school and become a nurse practitioner. There seems to be a trend now that nurse practitioners are being replaced by DNPs. or Doctors of Nursing Practice. A DNP is actually a year shorter than doing a masters followed by nurse practitioner school. In the end the duties are the same, but you call one of them Doctor (I'm not sure how I feel about that).
The thing about doing a DNP is the income. It's a three year, part-time program that is mostly online. You can work and go to school simultaneously. Because it's a practical degree there is no research or thesis requirement. After you graduate, bang, you've pretty much guaranteed yourself an upper middle class income for life. I like the idea of not having to sweat to put The Peanut through college.
Then Mona also wants to go back to school and get a psychology masters. She wants to do early intervention type stuff with autistic kids. So add in an income like that and we'll be OK to retire someday. She's taking an online intro to psych class now and like likes what she's learned so far.
The DNP also might be cool for retirement. Mona wants to re-up with the Peace Corps when we pack it in. Part of me thinks that might be cool. With a DNP I think I could pick my post and pretty much be sure that I wouldn't be digging wells and evading guerrillas in some scary jungle somewhere.
Some people with my GPA in nursing want nurse anesthesia, but I don't think that's for me. It's another two years of full time school, and I don't know if we can really afford that. Plus, in my opinion, the OR is boring and being a nurse anesthetist looks like lots of boredom with the occasional moments of panic and a high risk for malpractice suits. That's just my opinion. If you want to be a nurse anesthetist please don't let me stop you. The people who do it seem to love it, and the money is fantastic.
At any rate, you're now up to speed.
So what do you think? Do I go back to sales and keep nursing as a fallback? Do I try for management and administration? How about Grad school and a doctorate?
If you've read this far it's my great hope that you'll share your opinion. I really appreciate hearing everyone's thoughts.
How to give someone a physical, nurse style (2 Credits) A (~98%)
All the basics of Nursing and The basics of being a nurse on a psych floor (5 Credits) : A (98.3%)
An overview of nursing issues (2 Credits): A (~98%)
Drug, drugs, and more drugs (3 Credits): A- (91.6%)
How diseases work (4 Credits): A- (~92.4%)
Actually working in a hospital and in mental ward: (5 Credits) A (~97%)
That should make my GPA a 3.9
Here's the thing. I don't find it all that difficult from an intellectual standpoint. It keeps me busy, especially the parts where I have to write papers, but I don;t struggle to "understand" the content. To tell the truth, so far it's mostly been common sense.
I am pleased with my performance, but to a certain extent I feel like I'm just performing at the level that I expected. I can live with a B if its a nice high B, but in truth I expect to get A's. So getting an A doesn't feel like an achievement. It's more like a milestone to me.
I suppose that's both good and bad. Good in the sense that I hold myself to a relatively high standard, bad in that there is little joy in what amounts to very good performance. I'm also concerned that I'll expect The Peanut to always bring home A's. And that would be unfair, especially considering my high school GPA was something like a 2.5 The only C's I ever got in college were Accounting I and II. I can understand Chemistry and Physics and Statistics without a problem, but accounting remains a mystery.
At any rate, it's something that I intend to look out for. I tell her now that she's my favorite Peanut because she is so smart, so nice and so cute. I want to keep reinforcing that (hopefully in more sophisticated ways) as she gets older. I want a kid who is smart, confident and tough. But I digress.
The real upside of the GPA is that if I can keep it up I'll get into graduate school pretty easily, if that's really what I want. I got into this program with the idea that Ic ould always return to sales, but I don't know if I really want to do that. Even though you can make a heck of a good living, it's always uncertain.
But the more I go to school the more I wonder if just staying in patient care is the better choice. I think I could move into management pretty easily, just because I have a business background and I'm male. The faculty has told us to expect to move into management just on the basis of our having dual degrees. We're sort of expected to be leaders.
If I don't choose administration, I could do grad school and become a nurse practitioner. There seems to be a trend now that nurse practitioners are being replaced by DNPs. or Doctors of Nursing Practice. A DNP is actually a year shorter than doing a masters followed by nurse practitioner school. In the end the duties are the same, but you call one of them Doctor (I'm not sure how I feel about that).
The thing about doing a DNP is the income. It's a three year, part-time program that is mostly online. You can work and go to school simultaneously. Because it's a practical degree there is no research or thesis requirement. After you graduate, bang, you've pretty much guaranteed yourself an upper middle class income for life. I like the idea of not having to sweat to put The Peanut through college.
Then Mona also wants to go back to school and get a psychology masters. She wants to do early intervention type stuff with autistic kids. So add in an income like that and we'll be OK to retire someday. She's taking an online intro to psych class now and like likes what she's learned so far.
The DNP also might be cool for retirement. Mona wants to re-up with the Peace Corps when we pack it in. Part of me thinks that might be cool. With a DNP I think I could pick my post and pretty much be sure that I wouldn't be digging wells and evading guerrillas in some scary jungle somewhere.
Some people with my GPA in nursing want nurse anesthesia, but I don't think that's for me. It's another two years of full time school, and I don't know if we can really afford that. Plus, in my opinion, the OR is boring and being a nurse anesthetist looks like lots of boredom with the occasional moments of panic and a high risk for malpractice suits. That's just my opinion. If you want to be a nurse anesthetist please don't let me stop you. The people who do it seem to love it, and the money is fantastic.
At any rate, you're now up to speed.
So what do you think? Do I go back to sales and keep nursing as a fallback? Do I try for management and administration? How about Grad school and a doctorate?
If you've read this far it's my great hope that you'll share your opinion. I really appreciate hearing everyone's thoughts.
Thursday, April 9, 2009
My Brain Is So Big That My Neck Can Barely Hold My Head Up
I am a genius.
Here’s why.
Today was my last day of school for five weeks. All my finals are taken, papers written and evaluations performed.
This semester I (and the rest of my class) carried 21 credit hours. The first two weeks were devoted to a single two credit course that was basically preparatory. After that we had ten weeks and 19 credit hours. 5 of those credit hours were for time spent in the hospital working with patients. The other 14 credit hours were didactic classes.
In the first clinical rotation we did two eight hour shifts per week on a medical floor at an area hospital. We worked with a patient or two and did basic stuff that I’ve already written about. My clinical instructor thought I was the cat’s PJ’s. My evaluation was really good from her and she told me that I should spend a little time doing patient care before I moved on to bigger and better. The implication was that I would most certainly be moving on to bigger and better. My written and clinical grade was 3.989 out of 4.0.
My classmates knew the instructor liked me, but since she didn’t dislike any of them there weren’t any issues with favoritism or jealousy. The instructor told us as a group that we were pretty strong, and I think the lowest grade anyone got was a 3.5.
I figured my grade was due at least a little to the fact that I was well liked, so I figured that the next rotation would sort of round things out.
Tonight I finished my psych rotation (again, two eight hour shifts per week) and got another evaluation from a different clinical instructor. She told me I got the top grade in our class, 3.875 out of 4.0. She marked me down in one category, but only because she felt that no one at this level of education or experience could possibly get a perfect score in that category. But she felt that I was very strong and plans to ask the program chair to round my grade up a little. Ultimately it won’t matter, but it’s nice to hear.
The thing that really gets me is that this instructor hasn’t shown any hints of liking anyone more than anyone else. She also says that we are a very strong group in general. My written work seems to be a little better than most because, in her opinion, I listened to her requirements and instructions and delivered what she asked for. This was not the case with some of my classmates, although they did well enough.
So that’s twice now that I’m on the top of the pile. So maybe the hype is true after all.
Here’s what I think my final grades will be:
Clinicals: A
Clinical lecture: A
Assessment: A
Intro to Nursing: A
Pathophysiology: A-
Pharmacology Low A- or High B+
85% of the Pharm grade is in, and my score is 90.7%. 91% is an A-. The final 15% is participation. I never missed a class, so hopefully that will get me that last .3%
The real upside of this is really about whether or not I want to do graduate or doctoral work. For example, if I wanted to be a nurse anesthetist (and I don’t really), I would probably need a 3.8 GPA to get into most programs.
Other programs, like Masters of Nursing or Advanced Practice Nursing probably want 3.5 or better. They also take into account whether you went into an accelerated program like the one I'm in. Apparently high grades in an accelerated program look pretty good to admissions people. They figure if you can hack it here you can deal with graduate or post graduate work.
It looks like the Nurse Practitioner degree is going to go away over the next few years. There seems to be a trend to replace it with a Doctor of Nursing Practice degree. It’s really similar but from what I understand also adds in some more about the business side of running a practice.
Someone also recently told me that the degree is done quite heavily on line, since it’s really about theory mostly. People are able to work while they’re in class. And since it’s about nursing practice there’s no thesis or research needed to have the degree awarded.
The upside socially is for these DNP’s to take up some of the slack for physicians. And it looks like we’re headed for a shortage of them too. The personal upside is Nurse Practitioners and DNPs have low six figure incomes. That’s highly appealing.
The downside is that it’s confusing for patients. “You’re Doctor Nurse?” It also upsets physicians, who see DNPs as competition for patients. I understand that, and in their shoes I might be concerned too.
As far as the title goes, I think if I did it I’d only let people call me Doctor once per day. After that it’s Jorge. Or maybe Doc.
In the short term I need to find a job and pay off student loans for tuition at a private college. Hopefully I can find an employer who has a tuition forgiveness program (that's becoming more common in some places where nurses are in demand).
But I digress. The point is that my grades are excellent. More than one critical source has now rated me Awesome. External validation rocks.
I am a genius.
Here’s why.
Today was my last day of school for five weeks. All my finals are taken, papers written and evaluations performed.
This semester I (and the rest of my class) carried 21 credit hours. The first two weeks were devoted to a single two credit course that was basically preparatory. After that we had ten weeks and 19 credit hours. 5 of those credit hours were for time spent in the hospital working with patients. The other 14 credit hours were didactic classes.
In the first clinical rotation we did two eight hour shifts per week on a medical floor at an area hospital. We worked with a patient or two and did basic stuff that I’ve already written about. My clinical instructor thought I was the cat’s PJ’s. My evaluation was really good from her and she told me that I should spend a little time doing patient care before I moved on to bigger and better. The implication was that I would most certainly be moving on to bigger and better. My written and clinical grade was 3.989 out of 4.0.
My classmates knew the instructor liked me, but since she didn’t dislike any of them there weren’t any issues with favoritism or jealousy. The instructor told us as a group that we were pretty strong, and I think the lowest grade anyone got was a 3.5.
I figured my grade was due at least a little to the fact that I was well liked, so I figured that the next rotation would sort of round things out.
Tonight I finished my psych rotation (again, two eight hour shifts per week) and got another evaluation from a different clinical instructor. She told me I got the top grade in our class, 3.875 out of 4.0. She marked me down in one category, but only because she felt that no one at this level of education or experience could possibly get a perfect score in that category. But she felt that I was very strong and plans to ask the program chair to round my grade up a little. Ultimately it won’t matter, but it’s nice to hear.
The thing that really gets me is that this instructor hasn’t shown any hints of liking anyone more than anyone else. She also says that we are a very strong group in general. My written work seems to be a little better than most because, in her opinion, I listened to her requirements and instructions and delivered what she asked for. This was not the case with some of my classmates, although they did well enough.
So that’s twice now that I’m on the top of the pile. So maybe the hype is true after all.
Here’s what I think my final grades will be:
Clinicals: A
Clinical lecture: A
Assessment: A
Intro to Nursing: A
Pathophysiology: A-
Pharmacology Low A- or High B+
85% of the Pharm grade is in, and my score is 90.7%. 91% is an A-. The final 15% is participation. I never missed a class, so hopefully that will get me that last .3%
The real upside of this is really about whether or not I want to do graduate or doctoral work. For example, if I wanted to be a nurse anesthetist (and I don’t really), I would probably need a 3.8 GPA to get into most programs.
Other programs, like Masters of Nursing or Advanced Practice Nursing probably want 3.5 or better. They also take into account whether you went into an accelerated program like the one I'm in. Apparently high grades in an accelerated program look pretty good to admissions people. They figure if you can hack it here you can deal with graduate or post graduate work.
It looks like the Nurse Practitioner degree is going to go away over the next few years. There seems to be a trend to replace it with a Doctor of Nursing Practice degree. It’s really similar but from what I understand also adds in some more about the business side of running a practice.
Someone also recently told me that the degree is done quite heavily on line, since it’s really about theory mostly. People are able to work while they’re in class. And since it’s about nursing practice there’s no thesis or research needed to have the degree awarded.
The upside socially is for these DNP’s to take up some of the slack for physicians. And it looks like we’re headed for a shortage of them too. The personal upside is Nurse Practitioners and DNPs have low six figure incomes. That’s highly appealing.
The downside is that it’s confusing for patients. “You’re Doctor Nurse?” It also upsets physicians, who see DNPs as competition for patients. I understand that, and in their shoes I might be concerned too.
As far as the title goes, I think if I did it I’d only let people call me Doctor once per day. After that it’s Jorge. Or maybe Doc.
In the short term I need to find a job and pay off student loans for tuition at a private college. Hopefully I can find an employer who has a tuition forgiveness program (that's becoming more common in some places where nurses are in demand).
But I digress. The point is that my grades are excellent. More than one critical source has now rated me Awesome. External validation rocks.
I am a genius.
Saturday, March 28, 2009
Help! I'm Stuck in an Idiom!
I am now knee deep in my psychiatric nursing rotation.
I spend two days a week, usually on the afternoon shift, at a local psychiatric hospital. I'm on a locked unit and some of the patients are, in clinical terms, bat-shit crazy. There are a lot of stories, schizophrenics and delusions all the time.
It's not as scary as most people think, but it can be a little weird sometimes.
Last night I was playing cards with a patient and a couple of students. We were playing spades. When it was my turn to deal I realized that we were short 2 cards.
I was in a mental hospital. We weren't playing with a full deck. Are you kidding me? Was it an accident or does someone, patient or staff member, have a sick sense of humor?
Somewhere in that story is two or three minutes of stand up comedy.
If a joke pops into your head I hope you'll share it.
I spend two days a week, usually on the afternoon shift, at a local psychiatric hospital. I'm on a locked unit and some of the patients are, in clinical terms, bat-shit crazy. There are a lot of stories, schizophrenics and delusions all the time.
It's not as scary as most people think, but it can be a little weird sometimes.
Last night I was playing cards with a patient and a couple of students. We were playing spades. When it was my turn to deal I realized that we were short 2 cards.
I was in a mental hospital. We weren't playing with a full deck. Are you kidding me? Was it an accident or does someone, patient or staff member, have a sick sense of humor?
Somewhere in that story is two or three minutes of stand up comedy.
If a joke pops into your head I hope you'll share it.
Tuesday, March 24, 2009
I Just Couldn't Take It
No, I haven't quit the program.
What I did do though, was walk out of a class today. In disgust.
Of course you're wondering why, and fully aware that I plan to tell you. What you are probably wondering is why I don't just get to the point. No reason.
So here goes.
I have class called Intro to Professional Nursing. It's really a blow off class, and the instructor has purposely set the bar low to allow us to focus on the hard science type classes. Everyone gets an A.
I have enjoyed the class mostly. It's a nice low stress break in the week.
Today was movie day. The instructor brought in a film related to health care, told us to watch it and explained that it would be discussed during class next week.
Why would I walk out on a movie? What could be so bad?
It was Michael Moore's "Sicko".
Whether or not you agree with the film, I hope you'll agree that it's an editorial, not a documentary. If you really think it's an unbiased work then you will likely not agree with anything that follows.
In my opinion the film was full of half truths. Like the guy who cut off his fingers on the table saw and could only afford to have one reattached. The last time I walked into an Emergency Room with an injury I was not offered a menu with prices. Why was one finger 5 times the cost of the second? Something about that smells wrong.
How about the golfer who went home for treatment in Canada instead of staying in the U.S.? U.S. Insurance usually travels. And when I do things like go SCUBA diving (which isn't covered by most insurers) I have a supplemental plan that will pay for anything I need, including being flown here from anywhere if treatment in the US is necessary. That costs me $99 a year. Canadians aren't covered by their government outside Canada. Atena covers me if I'm over there.
There are a whole bunch of other problems I have.
The thing that finally made me leave was the whole house call thing in France. The guy who talked about the service starting because a doctor with a plumbing problem decided that since he could get a plumber to come out in less than an hour, then anyone should be able to get a doctor to come to their own house that quickly too.
Yeah, plumbers are pretty much like doctors right? That's fair. Maybe if I need a neurologist one day I can just have my neighbor, the electrician, check me out. Holy shit.
It was then that I walked out.
Do I have opinions about whether or not US Healthcare sucks and how to fix it? Yes.
Am I going to share them? No.
Instead I am going to bitch about being subjected to a highly biased film in a program that is is not about opinion or or art. Nursing is and should be about fact. There are different kinds of heart attacks, and there are different treatments sometimes. But those treatments are all based on researched science. New ideas are tested rigorously. No responsible clinician passes off opinion as fact.
Blogs are the place for opinion. Classrooms should be places of fact, at least in a science based curriculum. I resent being subjected to that film. It's more than an hour of my time gone and who knows how many tuition dollars.
For the record, while I may have been less incensed, had the instructor played a 2 hours segment of something done by Rush Limbaugh I would have disapproved as well. I don't care for people with axes to grind or agendas to advance.
I am so annoyed that I can't even tie this together very coherently.
I think I'll just take a quick nap and then do some homework.
What I did do though, was walk out of a class today. In disgust.
Of course you're wondering why, and fully aware that I plan to tell you. What you are probably wondering is why I don't just get to the point. No reason.
So here goes.
I have class called Intro to Professional Nursing. It's really a blow off class, and the instructor has purposely set the bar low to allow us to focus on the hard science type classes. Everyone gets an A.
I have enjoyed the class mostly. It's a nice low stress break in the week.
Today was movie day. The instructor brought in a film related to health care, told us to watch it and explained that it would be discussed during class next week.
Why would I walk out on a movie? What could be so bad?
It was Michael Moore's "Sicko".
Whether or not you agree with the film, I hope you'll agree that it's an editorial, not a documentary. If you really think it's an unbiased work then you will likely not agree with anything that follows.
In my opinion the film was full of half truths. Like the guy who cut off his fingers on the table saw and could only afford to have one reattached. The last time I walked into an Emergency Room with an injury I was not offered a menu with prices. Why was one finger 5 times the cost of the second? Something about that smells wrong.
How about the golfer who went home for treatment in Canada instead of staying in the U.S.? U.S. Insurance usually travels. And when I do things like go SCUBA diving (which isn't covered by most insurers) I have a supplemental plan that will pay for anything I need, including being flown here from anywhere if treatment in the US is necessary. That costs me $99 a year. Canadians aren't covered by their government outside Canada. Atena covers me if I'm over there.
There are a whole bunch of other problems I have.
The thing that finally made me leave was the whole house call thing in France. The guy who talked about the service starting because a doctor with a plumbing problem decided that since he could get a plumber to come out in less than an hour, then anyone should be able to get a doctor to come to their own house that quickly too.
Yeah, plumbers are pretty much like doctors right? That's fair. Maybe if I need a neurologist one day I can just have my neighbor, the electrician, check me out. Holy shit.
It was then that I walked out.
Do I have opinions about whether or not US Healthcare sucks and how to fix it? Yes.
Am I going to share them? No.
Instead I am going to bitch about being subjected to a highly biased film in a program that is is not about opinion or or art. Nursing is and should be about fact. There are different kinds of heart attacks, and there are different treatments sometimes. But those treatments are all based on researched science. New ideas are tested rigorously. No responsible clinician passes off opinion as fact.
Blogs are the place for opinion. Classrooms should be places of fact, at least in a science based curriculum. I resent being subjected to that film. It's more than an hour of my time gone and who knows how many tuition dollars.
For the record, while I may have been less incensed, had the instructor played a 2 hours segment of something done by Rush Limbaugh I would have disapproved as well. I don't care for people with axes to grind or agendas to advance.
I am so annoyed that I can't even tie this together very coherently.
I think I'll just take a quick nap and then do some homework.
Thursday, March 12, 2009
Are we bad parents?
First, a little background.
You know of course that The Peanut is out of the crib and sleeping in her big girl bed.
You may also recall that I once posted a photo of my home here. It’s a 1940 bungalow with two bedrooms and a half bath upstairs and two on the main floor with a full bath. Mona and I sleep downstairs and The Peanuts room is upstairs.
There is a baby gate up there to keep her off the stairs, but she’s pretty good on them now so we rarely use it anymore. (I know what you’re thinking, and no, she didn’t fall down the stairs. Just wait.)
This morning however we had a little incident. Somewhere around 3 AM The Peanut woke up crying and looking for her blankie. She sometimes loses it in her bed. She settled back down after a minute or two and then had another short episode about 30 minutes later.
I finally got back to sleep around 4 AM.
At 5:45 Mona’s alarm went off. She hit the snooze and I thought I heard a little cough from near the foot of the bed. I called The Peanut’s name but she didn’t answer. Mona thought I was mistaken. But as soon as we started talking a bit, The Peanut showed up.
Apparently she decided she’d had enough of the big girl bed and come downstairs. The good news is that we have a very considerate little girl. Instead of waking us up or crawling into our bed, she simply displaces one of the dogs from its doggie bed.
That’s right. The Peanut slept on the floor in the dogs bed last night. No covers, and the dog won’t stay in there with her. So she ends up sleeping on the floor without the benefit of a fur coat or even her blankie.
Would you like to know the worst part?
This was the second time it's happened.
You know of course that The Peanut is out of the crib and sleeping in her big girl bed.
You may also recall that I once posted a photo of my home here. It’s a 1940 bungalow with two bedrooms and a half bath upstairs and two on the main floor with a full bath. Mona and I sleep downstairs and The Peanuts room is upstairs.
There is a baby gate up there to keep her off the stairs, but she’s pretty good on them now so we rarely use it anymore. (I know what you’re thinking, and no, she didn’t fall down the stairs. Just wait.)
This morning however we had a little incident. Somewhere around 3 AM The Peanut woke up crying and looking for her blankie. She sometimes loses it in her bed. She settled back down after a minute or two and then had another short episode about 30 minutes later.
I finally got back to sleep around 4 AM.
At 5:45 Mona’s alarm went off. She hit the snooze and I thought I heard a little cough from near the foot of the bed. I called The Peanut’s name but she didn’t answer. Mona thought I was mistaken. But as soon as we started talking a bit, The Peanut showed up.
Apparently she decided she’d had enough of the big girl bed and come downstairs. The good news is that we have a very considerate little girl. Instead of waking us up or crawling into our bed, she simply displaces one of the dogs from its doggie bed.
That’s right. The Peanut slept on the floor in the dogs bed last night. No covers, and the dog won’t stay in there with her. So she ends up sleeping on the floor without the benefit of a fur coat or even her blankie.
Would you like to know the worst part?
This was the second time it's happened.
Tuesday, March 10, 2009
It passed
Last Thursday we found out that Mona, along with all her co-workers, will be keeping their jobs.
We had some other plans in place, but it's nice to not need them. It's especially nice to know that at the very least we'll still have health insurance.
Spring Break was last week, I pretty much did nothing. I did see Watchmen on Friday. It was interesting, but also in my opinion mildly pornographic. The sex scenes left little to the imagination and there was a lot of full wangular nudity.
The best part about that day was the 66 degree high. I drove with my windows down and we aired out the house for a few hours.
I'm back at it this week, and Thursday starts my psych rotation. I'm told the place I'm going is basically alcohol rehab, which I imagine means dealing with a bunch of people who are sick and pissed. Great.
The Peanut is now in her big girl bed permanently. We took her crib down on Sunday.
We're also making progress with potty training. She is going pee on the potty about 80% of the time. We're still working on #2, which has only ended up in the potty a handfull of times. But any progress is fine with me. I'm ready to be done with diapers.
And that's the short version.
We had some other plans in place, but it's nice to not need them. It's especially nice to know that at the very least we'll still have health insurance.
Spring Break was last week, I pretty much did nothing. I did see Watchmen on Friday. It was interesting, but also in my opinion mildly pornographic. The sex scenes left little to the imagination and there was a lot of full wangular nudity.
The best part about that day was the 66 degree high. I drove with my windows down and we aired out the house for a few hours.
I'm back at it this week, and Thursday starts my psych rotation. I'm told the place I'm going is basically alcohol rehab, which I imagine means dealing with a bunch of people who are sick and pissed. Great.
The Peanut is now in her big girl bed permanently. We took her crib down on Sunday.
We're also making progress with potty training. She is going pee on the potty about 80% of the time. We're still working on #2, which has only ended up in the potty a handfull of times. But any progress is fine with me. I'm ready to be done with diapers.
And that's the short version.
Wednesday, February 25, 2009
This too shall pass
I'm worried.
Mona came home tonight and told me that a director at her company came in to meet with her managers and some HR people today.
The managers have been a little withdrawn since the meetings. Mona thinks she may lose her job and I'm concerned she's right. Her group is the best performing group in the country, but also the most expensive. They could move her job down south and cut their costs by 30%.
I expect that's what will happen, but I really, really hope I'm wrong.
But it's got me concerned.
Ultimately I think we'll be OK. We can make most of our payments from unemployment and I can use some of that scholarship money for expenses instead of tuition. If my brother keeps his job she can work as a nanny for his soon to arrive baby. With even a few hundred a month that should be enough to get us by.
Mona and I talked a little about the cuts that we'll have to make. Goodbye cable, netflix and cell phones and internet. No eating out. Ever. Lots of beans and rice and peanut butter and jelly. Movies will have to come from the public library (whoever invented libraries ought to be canonized. Seriously, that has to be the single greatest contribution to humanity that has ever been made).
I don't imagine we'll have the AC on much this summer if the worst happens.
I know that we can make it. I know that a lot of people are a heck of a lot worse off than we are. I know that tough times don't last forever. I know the good old day's weren't always good and tomorrow ain't as bad as it seems.
We're in a recession, but no matter what the media says, it's nothing like the Great Depression. We're just in a big readjustment.
No matter what happens, even if we hit rock bottom, I know my family and Mona's family will always be willing to provide food and shelter.
I think the worst is just the uncertainty of it all.
If I could just absolutely guarantee that I'm going to make it through this nursing program I'd feel much better. I know there is light at the end of the tunnel, and I know it's not a train. I just don't know if I will make it to the end or if I'll have to turn back and find another route.
There's no reason I shouldn't make it. I have the intelligence and the ability. Really the only thing that can really stop me is misfortune (I hope).
And to tell the truth, I have always felt lucky. Oh, I'm not lotto winner lucky, but I do think I have a fair amount of luck. Or divine assistance. Or both, and I mean it sincerely.
Whenever the proverbial stormclouds gather I seem to find a proverbial umbrella. I don't know why, but it seems to usually happen.
If it is divine intervention I am grateful and appreciative. I try and remember that when things are good too, and I like to take some time to simply say thank you for everything in my life that's good. And I try and do that same thing when things get tough.
Part of me wants to believe that my mother is somewhere looking out for me, or interceding on my behalf. I know that if she has that opportunity she's not letting it pass by. I hope I'm right about that and that Mom is happy and well wherever she is.
If the worst part about this whole thing is lost sleep and a few sacrifices, I'll count myself lucky. And I hope that no one else, anywhere, has it worse than that (even though I know they do).
We will all be OK. Every one of us. We're all in this together, and we'll all get through it together.
The best part will be telling our grandkids about how tough it was back around the turn of the century and how we had to tighten our belts, pull ourselves up by our bootstraps, dust our selves off, and plow ahead.
Good luck to us all.
Mona came home tonight and told me that a director at her company came in to meet with her managers and some HR people today.
The managers have been a little withdrawn since the meetings. Mona thinks she may lose her job and I'm concerned she's right. Her group is the best performing group in the country, but also the most expensive. They could move her job down south and cut their costs by 30%.
I expect that's what will happen, but I really, really hope I'm wrong.
But it's got me concerned.
Ultimately I think we'll be OK. We can make most of our payments from unemployment and I can use some of that scholarship money for expenses instead of tuition. If my brother keeps his job she can work as a nanny for his soon to arrive baby. With even a few hundred a month that should be enough to get us by.
Mona and I talked a little about the cuts that we'll have to make. Goodbye cable, netflix and cell phones and internet. No eating out. Ever. Lots of beans and rice and peanut butter and jelly. Movies will have to come from the public library (whoever invented libraries ought to be canonized. Seriously, that has to be the single greatest contribution to humanity that has ever been made).
I don't imagine we'll have the AC on much this summer if the worst happens.
I know that we can make it. I know that a lot of people are a heck of a lot worse off than we are. I know that tough times don't last forever. I know the good old day's weren't always good and tomorrow ain't as bad as it seems.
We're in a recession, but no matter what the media says, it's nothing like the Great Depression. We're just in a big readjustment.
No matter what happens, even if we hit rock bottom, I know my family and Mona's family will always be willing to provide food and shelter.
I think the worst is just the uncertainty of it all.
If I could just absolutely guarantee that I'm going to make it through this nursing program I'd feel much better. I know there is light at the end of the tunnel, and I know it's not a train. I just don't know if I will make it to the end or if I'll have to turn back and find another route.
There's no reason I shouldn't make it. I have the intelligence and the ability. Really the only thing that can really stop me is misfortune (I hope).
And to tell the truth, I have always felt lucky. Oh, I'm not lotto winner lucky, but I do think I have a fair amount of luck. Or divine assistance. Or both, and I mean it sincerely.
Whenever the proverbial stormclouds gather I seem to find a proverbial umbrella. I don't know why, but it seems to usually happen.
If it is divine intervention I am grateful and appreciative. I try and remember that when things are good too, and I like to take some time to simply say thank you for everything in my life that's good. And I try and do that same thing when things get tough.
Part of me wants to believe that my mother is somewhere looking out for me, or interceding on my behalf. I know that if she has that opportunity she's not letting it pass by. I hope I'm right about that and that Mom is happy and well wherever she is.
If the worst part about this whole thing is lost sleep and a few sacrifices, I'll count myself lucky. And I hope that no one else, anywhere, has it worse than that (even though I know they do).
We will all be OK. Every one of us. We're all in this together, and we'll all get through it together.
The best part will be telling our grandkids about how tough it was back around the turn of the century and how we had to tighten our belts, pull ourselves up by our bootstraps, dust our selves off, and plow ahead.
Good luck to us all.
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