Monthly Archives: January 2006

Dog Blog

Or is it Blog Dog? Little Annie, courtesy of the Fresno Pound. Go look for yourself.

Finished the mobius, pics next time, after I darn in the ends.

Work already called asking for a 3 AM start. Uhm, no, thanks. We are also short tomorrow, and thus, I think I do not need to start the shift half asleep and depleted.


So Tired

I had a hellish busy day. It was 4 o’clock before I hit clear water, and only because the oncoming nurse is a fabulous human bean and took off all the orders from the chart that I had not taken off from my other patient. Bless her. The really sick kid, the one with the surgical belly and the fever and the tachypnea and the low platelets and the overall bad prognosis and the screaming lots and lots of screaming. Her, I had actually done all the order, and many of them had been taken off by the other nurses, bless them. Have I mentioned how much I love ward clerks? Have I mentioned that we did not have one? Did anyone else know that parking was something you did with a phone? What happens to that call if you are too stupid to figure out how to pick it up? Do YOU know where the blood orders are stocked? I do , know, but the place looked like a medically based yard sale, and a visit from the form fairy would have been helpful.

I am obsessed with doll making. Is that good?

Or should I knit, now?

Maybe sit on the couch, and stare, blankly at these nice people who are playing toys and stealing noodle out of the dish this guy brought me. Oh yeah, that’s my husband.

A Room of One’s Own

Ok, well, not exactly a room. A table. Mom’s table. Do. Not. Touch. Anything. On. The. Table.
Do. Not. Put. Anything. On. The. Table. We have some rules around here, ya know. I’m making another doll. Why? who knows?

Work really blows. The neurosurgeon was nice to me, though. It’s always nice when a brilliant and famous person pours you a cup of coffee when he pours his own. My co workers suggested that I was over reactive when I FLIPPED out that no one hung the unit of blood that had been ordered at 4pm YESTERDAY. I guess I’m just funny that way. And the other patient, the central IV line that my very confused (head trauma) patient had when I left? Ripped out before I got to the parking lot. What is it about head injuries that makes people so very, very strong? I dunno- I mean I had him unrestrained, playing video games, and using the commode. (With his line in.) I got him back this morning tied down, chewing on his restraints, diapered, with no line. I looked at him, a big man sized person who was still really a child before his injury, and now, more than ever is child like, and I said “Damn, John, what happened?”
“I dunno, but I’m real glad to see you.” There is no sincerity like that of those who live completely in the present.

The Harlot made me do it

Yes, I like so many, have fallen under the Harlot’s spell, and bought that damn book. I have resisted so far (Over a year- I think that’s a personal best for not buying a book that I was ambiguous about.) It struck me as a one trick pony, and I was a little annoyed at the model. She is just a bit precious for me. Once I actually bought the book and read that she is an opera singer, somehow she annoyed me less. I expect drama from opera singers. In knitting book authours, not so much. I did actually gag while reading the ficticious surmise of Herr Mobius’s wife suddenly dreaming of inventing not only the circular needle, but the very same mobius technique in the book, all of which, of course was tragically lost. I’m feeling headachy just thinking about that bit. The book is a one trick pony, but it’s a damn good trick. The cast on is the main thing, and a handy chart for number of stitches to cast on for the length of (circumference of?) the scarf you want. I’m using a bunch of odd ball purples and blues, just adding them in as I reach the end of each ball, and I will cast off in I cord when I get there. I’ll probably buy the cast off yarn, because it would bum my cool to run out midway.

Work wants me in at 3AM. It is nice, because I get the night shift differential, and it assures that the nurse who does nothing who starts at 11 AM, has an assignment- mine. But thn there’s the getting up at 2AM part and that blows. Plus, I would need to go to bed right after Son One and Son Two, and it somehow leaches all the joy of being a grown up to go to bed at the same timeas the kids.

Yet another hobby?

Meet the doll family. I have no Idea why I am doing this. There is a yard of fabric soaking in tea and a pinch of red koolaide right now,making skin toned fabric, so that I can make more of these things.

Work- well, lets see. go read Jo.
She has a good post on the hobbyist patient. Luckily, as a pedi nurse, I rarely see these. One Munchasen by proxy I will remember till the day I die. ( This means that the mother slowly poisoned and disabled her own child, so that she could be seen as a hero for saving the child. ) One teenager who refused to walk for so long that she needed actual rehab because she was now too weak. That, and a can of ass whupp, and psychatric help that was in the hands of those far more skilled at that kind of thing that I. A few here and there, but nothing like what adults can do to themselves.