friends

when you least expect it, people in your life pop up unexpectedly. i don't mean physically, i just mean they are "there" with you.
most of my friends collect things. something different. my sister in law collects pigs, and at the flea market, i saw the ugliest pig. i didn't take a photo, but i wish i had. my son in law collects tigers and a girlfriend collects lions and chases clouds. music boxes, angels, sunflowers. myself, i collect turtles.
the above photo is of items collected by another friend of mine. jean, these were only the first miss kitty's that popped up sunday at the flea market. seems every corner i turned, there you were!! did you have as much fun as i did?
huggsssss

the Beauty of God

i do believe that this has to be one of the most awesomest sights in the whole world. i cannot get enough of it. if it were up to me, i would spend the remaining days of my life, looking at the ocean. walking along the shoreline, collecting seashells.

the blueness of the sky above the green-grays of the water. the whiteness of the waves as they roll up towards the browns and blacks of the sand. as i stand on the sand, the water rushes up over my feet. it is icy cold. the water recedes and i turn to walk up the beach when a wave rolls from the ocean, splashing water up my legs, soaking the bottoms of my cropped jeans. my footprints follow me from the waters

can there be anything more peaceful or enjoyable than this?

home away from home

in livermore, my home is a hotel room. in it i have a bed of course. a not so comfortable queen size bed. beside it sits an also not so comfortable lounge chair with a large foot stool in front of it. a bedside table where i placed my cpap machine. it helps me to breathe at night. i sleep on the right side of the bed.
a desk is to the left of the bed. my computer sits on top, with a lamp beside the monitor. a straight back chair is what i sit on as i type. i think i will have hemorrhoids before i leave here. i know, too much information there.
behind me, on the other wall is an open closet where my clothes are hanging, and empty boxes on the above shelf. a low dresser with the television on it. like all hotels. beside this dresser sits the clothes hamper that my youngest daughter bought for me when i went on my first travel nurse position. it is tubular steel with a brown "sack" hanging from them. three sections to sort laundry. it has come in handy.
a square table, which i am sure is for eating at, and another straight backed chair. miscellaneous items sit upon this table. they have no where to be put away, so there they sit.
surprisingly, in the kitchen, i have a full sized refrigerator. two electric burners. i hate electric burners. one itty bitty square sink that nothing fits in. not enough cabinets or counter top space. they supplied a toaster and a tiny coffee maker, but i placed that under the sink, as i drink tea, so i brought my own tea pot, which is actually a coffee maker. all the items they supplied in the kitchen are under the sink, except the toaster. i didn't carry mine clear across the united states to keep in boxes. besides, i have full sets, nicer pans. and i would rather use my pans that i am familiar with if i have to use electricity to cook. there is no oven so i cannot bake, but there is a microwave. not the same.
a nice size bathroom with alot of space under the sink which was nice so i could store my empty boxes. i will need them to pack things back into when i return home.
home. yes, i miss it. probably more so as i have not been to work yet. they had things they needed to get straightened out before they would let me start working. now things are straight and i will start work in the morning.
when i am not working on the computer, the screen saver comes on, with pictures of my grandkids looking out at me. most of them are happy, laughing children, but i have no shame and i will snap a picture of a child who is crying too. when i look at the pictures, i think of what we were doing when they were taken, and how sweet they look. they are not sweet children though. most times they are mean to each other and fight. disrespectful to adults. something that is normal in this world today. my not so perfect grandchildren that they are, i miss them.
time for bed. should not stay up too late when i am in a melancholy mood. makes me miss them more.

life in livermore

God has certainly blessed me. He gave me a daughter who has so many great friends, and because of this, i am sitting in livermore Ca, safe and sound.
i should probably tell myself that this travel nursing was not really a good idea, but i do not believe that myself, so i cannot lie to you. i am glad that i am doing this, i only regret that it was so difficult for me to get to where i was, and other people had to worry so about me because of it.
as you all know, i had difficulty getting across the mountains.
after i had left apple valley, the mountain pass i ended up in was just too much. i had pulled off the road at an exit that actually was in the middle of nowhere. now, i am sure that this exit led to someplace, but to go anywhere with it, i would have had to drive down the mountainside, or up the mountainside.
i was so frustrated with myself and my fear. i am a self analyzer, trying to decipher in myself where this fear accumulated. how it put itself into my mind causing me such grief. of course, that is something i will most likely never know. my armymom friend, micki, was there with me. she had been driving her car in front of me, leading me to highway I-5 so that i might continue my journey on up to northern california. of course, she did not know what to do. she was calling our armymom friend JJ, whom we had just left not 15 minutes earlier. i do not know what their conversation was, only it was about me.
i was so lost. so distraught. i kept looking upward towards the highway i had just left. watching the traffic speed by. farther down the road, i could see the overpass i would have to cross. nothing but air on either side of it. like a bridge. bridges also give me problems, but i have made an agreement with them. i promise not to stay on them if they let me cross. it really does not decrease my fear, but it gets me across them.
i needed to call someone to help, but who could help me when all my family were two thousand miles away? who could i call and not cause them great worry? number two and send. Mykal, my oldest daughter. i really did not think that she could help me, and i was not sure i wanted her to know how distraught i was, because it would cause her distress. i did not want her to worry for me, but i needed someone familiar. that is the only reason i can say that i made that call.
Mykal has been alot of places and made alot of friends. she is outgoing and gives everyone the benefit of the doubt. she was in the army for, oh, let's say 11 years, but i can never remember the correct time, as it seemed like she was gone forever anyways. Mykal works for 911 also, and she happened to be at work when she received my call.
she took immediate charge of the situation. less than a month ago, one of the girls that she had shared her room with, had moved to california. i had met vicki when i traveled to louisiana and mykal visited me there. vicki lived in mississippi. her home state (after england that is). she was in biloxi when hurricane katrina went through. vicki now lived about an hour from where i was stranded. she and her room mate would be there to pick me up as quick as they could find me.
in my wallet, i had some xanax pills one of my friends gave me when my prescription ran out. i had took half of one the day before, and at this time, i took the one and a half that was left.
both mykal and vicki kept contact with me by cell phone. micki talked with the strange trucker who pulled up while i was on the phone. after he left, a young man and his family pulled into our parking area. he had three children, ages 5, 3 and 18 months. he had pulled off because when the littlest one becomes upset while riding in the vehicle, she becomes sick and vomits if they don't pull over and let her out for a short bit. it turned out that he had used to be a marine. i entertained the children with beanie babies. i gave them their choice of my small collection. the mama was pregnant with a boy she said, and i had a beanie that said "it's a boy", so i gave that to her. i even had a gift for the guy, lol. one of the books of poetry that i had written for the military moms. he seemed pleased to get it, and not too concerned about this crazy lady he had found. i did explain to him what my predicament was, and his wife offered me chips and water which i refused as i already had those in my van.
inside myself, through all my pain, fear, grief...i was laughing at myself, because i knew how funny this predicament must look. not that anyone actually thought that i was "crazy", but i know i was babbling about, saying things that made no sense, but i was able to make it through the wait, standing in the middle of what i was afraid of.
then the black truck came down the hill. with my heroes. vicki and nina had arrived. saved the marine and his kids from me, lol. they saved me. i wrapped my chubby self around this tall skinny woman, hugging her tight enough i know she couldn't breathe. but she took me home with her anyway. she and nina took great care of me. they fed me and tucked me into bed after time at the beach. then they took their whole sunday to bring me to livermore. vicki put me into the truck and let nina drive it first, while vicki drove the van. poor nina was the one who had me through the worst part of the mountains going north from santa monica. i did not scream or cry though. i closed my eyes tight, held my hand over my face, and clenched my other hand into a fist. if nina spoke to me, i tried to talk back to her.
vicki had me through the "flat" lands where the orchards were or should have been. fields of cotton. dead citrus trees and some beautiful citrus trees that were ready to harvest. mountains surrounded us still, but there was plenty of land on either side of the road. the mountains were covered with yellowish brown grass. when we saw cows on the mountainsides, we both wondered how they kept from toppling downhill. vicki tells me, "that gives a new side to cow tipping". lolol. i was able to take some pictures. relief washed over me as we neared livermore. then, just outside the city, we hit mountain roads. nothing to either side. my chest tightened, my hands clenched and my eyes closed tightly. there were the windmills on the mountain tops. through my fear, i was able to take some photographs of them for my albums.
off the highway, turn to another road, and up the parkway of the hotel. vehicles turned off. i did not have the energy to dance, but my heart did flipflops because my feet were now planted safely on the ground. vicki refused to let me gas up her vehicle for her trip home. they refused to let me take them to dinner. they took a potty stop, allowed a couple pictures and went on their way for their 6 hour drive back home.
the young lady who had met me once before, took care of me because she was my daughters friend.
the van is now unloaded of my belongings. some things are put away, some things will be put away tomorrow. i was able to leave the hotel, and with directions of the desk clerk, find a grocery store to purchase some needed things. found the In and Out hamburger stand, which vicki said had the best burgers, and had my mouth watering for them all day. now i am back "home" writing this blog.
life in livermore has not been yet, but tomorrow i will make an attempt to venture out again. i have two days before i report to work at the VA clinic. as long as i do not have to drive on any mountain roads, life in livermore will be good.

fear

everyone has their fear. i found mine.
it is not something i would wish on anyone. finding their fear. it is the most horrible feeling you can find in yourself. it is deep in your soul and it takes over your whole body. you have no control of how your body reacts to it.
all my life, i never realized that fear could and does actually take over you like this. you hear stories about how fear paralyzes people. how someone was frightened to death, and you don't really believe this is possible. for you, i pray that you can always feel this way and never find out that it is true.
fear hurts.
deep in side you. it hurts every muscle and bone in your body. you cannot see. you may not even be able to talk.
many years ago, i had made fun of a gentleman because he was afraind of needles. hypodermic needles. i had to give him a shot, and i had to talk him through it so that i would be able to give him his needed injection. the next day i had to drive across the 18 mile bridge between lafayette and new orleans louisiana. i thought i had found my fear. my chest got tight and my arms tensed up. i had difficulty breathing. it was not good.
the next day when i returned to look, this man was my patient again, and i apologized profusely for laughing at his fear.
up until two days ago, i believed this was my deep fear. i did not believe that anything can scare me any worse than that. now i find that the fear i felt that day was nothing.
you are wondering when i will tell you what my fear is. to sit here and only think of it brings my fear out.
my fear is mountains. not mountains in themselves, but driving in them.
several years ago, i had driven in mountains across northern united states. my daughter sarah and i had piled kids and dogs in the car and drove from illinois to anacortes washington. stopping in south dakota to see the presidents, across wyoming, visiting a friend in montana, idaho and oregon. we did have some difficulty, but it did not seem really bad.
tuesday i began my trip across the lower states, well, up to omaha, then down to tulsa and the journey across began. i made it all the way to mid arizona before i began to realize how afraid i was.
it could be that due to arriving in new mexico in the dark, hiding the actual roads i was driving on, was actually a benefit to me, and early morning as i drove across arizona, the mountains lured in front of me. the beautiful beasts i was taking in, thinking how lucky i was to be able to view them. then, i went down hill. the roads were steep and winding. large semis passing by me, my van slightly rocking. the fear began. it was sometime thursday morning. i told myself that this was no different than the trip i took to washington, only i was by myself this time. i believed the down road trip would level out soon and i would be driving on level ground, with land on either side of the road.
little did i know that it would be a long spell before this happened.
i would go down the mountain, nothing to my left, and i would take the van to the inside right of the road. then, nothing to the right. straight drops of nothining ness. and i would coast over to the left side of the road. at first, i was able to keep my mind straight by driving slower than the other drivers, not letting it bother me that they had to pass me. i kept thinking that this would end soon. for some reason, i was under the belief that arizona was fairly flat. i thought the mountains would end, and i would have "normal" roads to drive on. then i thought when i got to california, it would end. i was so wrong with both.
my fear grew with each new mile i put behind me. i tried listening to the radio, but the noise would just get on my nerves and add to the agitation of the non ending mountain roads. it was now full daylight, getting later in the day. when i felt the fear build up, i would pull into a gas station (when available) or a rest area.
breathe, relax, pray. tell myself it would not be much longer. everytime i got low in the mountain, or at least what i thought was low, i would start going uphill again and the fear would build because i knew i would have to drive down hill again.
my fingers clenched the steering wheel. after hours of this, my left hand and up to my elbow had gone numb. deep breathe, blow out.
tears ran down my face and dripped off my chin. i could not wipe them off because i could not let go of the steering wheel. each time i pulled over to compose myself, it was harder to get back into the drivers seat.
as i neared my destination, my trip became longer because my speed became slower. when i got to california, i entered the investigation station. i felt relieved because i thought i had been through it all. i was done with the mountains. i asked the attendant if there were any further mountain roads, and he assured me that there were, but they were not that bad. and i drove off feeling somewhat relaxed at the idea that i would have fairly flat land to drive across. no more deep ravines surrounding me. no more drop offs on the side of the road.
until i found out it was even worse. there was no safety rails on this road to protect one from going over the sides. the ravines had become craters, becoming canyons. steep inclines and declines continued. my nerves could not take it. my arms hurt, my head hurt. my ears so full of pressure i thought they would never be normal again. my speed was 30 to 50 miles per hour depending on whatever i was seeing in front of me. my opportunities to pull over were few and far between. when i was able to pull into a rest area or small mountain town, i was wracked with sobs. my breaths were shallow and i would choke to be able to breathe. i would hide my face in my hands and weep.
then i would get in the van and repeat my torture.
i began telling my self i could do it. i would repeat it. over and over again. i would tell myself, "it's just a road, you can do it, it's just a road." beautiful mountains would rise in front of me, and i would cry harder. i would say, "such a beautiful thing and i cannot even enjoy it. i can't stop and take a picture of this." tears continuously flowing from my eyes, down my cheeks and off my chin. then i remembered thinking the last time i cried like this was when i sat at the computer and wrote my poems, and i thought it was funny that i remembered that.
i asked God to please let it end. i told Him, "i can't promise you anything, because you know i would probably not keep my word, so i don't want to promise you anything, but i am going to ask you to please let the road be straight. let be flat and straight. let the mountains end."
i called my friends in california. they were expecting me at a certain time. i told them how afraid i was, but they could not understand the seriousness of it, due to they could not see my reactions. i tried not to be angry because they were laughing, because i knew they did not mean to laugh "at" me.
the more afraid i would become of these roads in the mountain, the more foolish i felt with myself. the closer i got, i would try to make myself drive a bit faster, but everytime i would feel a bit more comfortable with the speed, and begin to loosen my grip on the steering wheel, another drop off would pop up out of now where. then the pavement of the road became uneven due to new construction. at one point, i was driving 15 to 25 miles per hour.
"look straight ahead. don't look to the side. it is only a road, it is only a road." and the it would decline again. i would get my bearings, then i was looking out into no where. down a mountain side.
i had to be slightly proud of myself, because i never froze up. i kept pushing myself and made it to my destination.
my friends then saw the toll this drive had taken on me. we were able to laugh it off, because even in my mind, the reactions i had during this drive made me laugh as i told the story. our visit was great, and i slept the like a baby.
life was good again, until it was time to leave. the "girls" had tried to find me a route with no mountains, and thought they had succeeded. even though, i began to weep as i had to get into the van, but i got in, started it up, and left the hotel following my friend because she was going to lead me to the highway that would take me to my freedom of no mountains.
the drive started up fine. four lanes of traffic i can handle. freeways, i can handle. crazy drivers, not a problem at all. the going was good. then it happened. the side of the road dropped away. we were on a mountain. i was in the center lane. my hands clenched the wheel. my breaths were difficult to attain. "it's only a road, it's only a road. look straight ahead."
i could not shake it. i could not do it. i do not know if my friend called me, or if i called her, but i told her i had to get off the road. she said i can't. i said yes i can. she said, no you can't. there is no where to get off. she tried to talk me through it, she tried to make me believe the mountains would end. cars were speeding past me on either side of me, honking and hollering at me, but i looked ahead and told them to keep going. weeping. shaking. feeling myself beginning to freeze. my body becoming stiff. i was paralyzing with fear, and i knew it was happening. i could do nothing about it. the road dropped off at both sides. blank air out there. no dirt, no grass, no nothing. i will never know how i got over that stretch. in my mind it lasted miles and miles, but i know it could have been no longer than half a mile. i told her, get me off here. soon she told me she had an exit, and exited i did. it was a nowhere place. no houses, no stores, no gas station. only a little area that was flat, that looked out over the valley. i could see the road i would have had to drive on. it was a bridge, out of nowhere. i looked up at the road i had come off of. semi trucks rushing by. cars, rv campers and motorcycles. people speeding by as if nothing was wrong, and really there wasn't. not in their lives. but in mine there was. something horridly, horridly frightening. and i could not over come it.
i parked the van and shut it off. i sobbed and breathed and sobbed some more.
my friend told me i had to get back on that road. i told her i could not. it was horrifying at the thought that i had to do it. there was a road to nowhere going down from where i was parked, but it was on a mountain side. there was a rode going upward, under the highway i had just left, but it was a mountain road. i could do nothing.
i sobbed because i needed to drive up north for my employment position, and i could not do it. i sobbed because to go back home, i would have to return through three states of mountains, and i know i will not be able to do it. i sobbed because i felt like such a fool because my fear was so deep, so great, i had a second where my life was at risk because i felt the paralyzing sensation taking over my whole self, and in that second, i knew i would have died if i did not get off that highway.
it is great to know people like my friends, and my daughters friends. as i write this, i am sitting in the apartment of a young woman who was in the service with my oldest daughter, tomorrow, she and her friend will take me on the rest of my journey, because i cannot do it.
if you read this, i beg of you, never, never laugh at the fears of other people, no matter how menial they may seem to you. no matter how small it is to you, it is not small to them, and they cannot push it aside. it will not allow itself to happen.

Ask Me About God

this morning, the new neighbor came over to my house to speak with me. well, he is not actually the neighbor. he is a friend of the person who bought the house, and he is gutting the inside, doing repair work for the new owner.
the new owner is the reverend of the nazarene church down the road from me. (in pana, everything is down the road, or across town, lol) the fella is one of the reverend associate pastors from the church in the town "down the road".
a few days ago, i went over to introduce myself to this young man. just to be a polite new neighbor. that is when i found out they are fixing it up to rent out, but being a pastor, of course we got into God.
he asked me what church i attended. well, my church is not in a building. my church is where ever i am standing talking to people about God. you see, i believe in God, but i guess i don't believe in people.
today, he trotted on over to my home, and told me God has been speaking to his heart. now, i do believe this, because God speaks to me. loudly sometimes, but not usually through another person. He knows i won't listen unless it is from His mouth personally, lol.
this pastor used some words i didn't understand really. i cannot even write what they are because they were above my head and i can't even say them myself. now, he was not talking above me, or around me, he was talking to me. he just knows these words and because i know God, i guess i should know them them too.
ok, now, he told me, God was speaking to him to come over here TODAY. of course, i understand that, am leaving tomorrow. the pastor said, i didn't know why, but He said i had to do it today, so here i am.
now, y'all know i don't have that good of a memory, so i cannot tell you word for word what this fella said, but in general, what he was telling me is that maybe i am supposed to be in church not for myself, but for the others. for the hippocrites, and the falsities. the pastor could tell that i "know" God, and that those people needed me.
yes, i have to laugh. not at knowing God, but, i don't know the Bible. nope. not hardly a word of it. i don't even own a Bible. oh, i know about the birth of Jesus, and the ten commandments. stuff like that, but i could not tell you where to turn to, what chapter or verse, for strength to get through this crisis or that.
i can only tell you, turn to God. give Him your faith. trust Him to pull you through. God fills me with His love and takes me through my life. i am here not for God but because of God.
ok, i had to step back in here after reading the preview because that line before this. God told me that is not true. this is how it is; BECAUSE of God, i am here FOR God.

i was saved when i was 15 years old. back in a time when i attended church in a building. it was a southern baptist church. i loved listening to the pastor up front, preaching his heart out every sunday. actually, he scared me. i was a little girl, and this pastor preached so loud, he yelled. he did not need a microphone. his face would get red and he would sweat. he was exhausted at the end of the sermon. you could tell he put his heart and soul into his preaching.
then i moved.
i attended many different churches in the area i had moved to. their beliefs were not the same as mine. their practices were not the same as mine. their prayers were written on paper. i was swallowed up in hippocrites and other false people. maybe i am wrong, but i cannot be in that crowd. the churches were too full of them. my voice could not be heard and i was invisible there. so, you might say, i took it outside.
i do know that it is in the Bible, "church is where two or more people get together and talk about God".
there is my church. no special building. i carry my church with me.
if you would like to attend my church, come stand outside with me. ride in my van. talk to me in the hall of the hospital or from your bed. speak to me in the grocery store. my church is portable.
i feel a little guilt when i think of what this pastor said. that maybe i am supposed to be there for those people, not for myself, but i know when God wants me in one of those buildings, i will be there. i don't ignore God. maybe God is preparing me for this, that is why this fella came to talk to me today, but it is just not time yet for me to do that.
when God tells me what building to enter to hold my church, i will be there. don't ask me about what the Bible says, because i won't know the answer. ask me about God.

menial chores completed, still running away

today i did some of the menial things. i made curtains for my kitchen window and the front door. i cut off the hall curtains and washed them. and i found the curtains for the sewing room. guess what is behind curtain number 1!! lol.

i did a little bit of winterizing. taped some windows, made sure some storm windows were closed and wrapped up the air conditioner in the living room window. it is too heavy for me to take out.

then i checked the mail. my check stub was there. they mail us our stubs and direct deposit the money. the check was near $400 short. they paid me in the per diem wages instead of my regular wages. i had even gone to the supervisor to tell her to put me as last day of work after mid october so this would not happen. who the heck works in the office that determines when i am no longer full time employed? i was there all of the pay period. does that not make me full time? they need to deposit the money this week and not wait until the next pay period.

my oldest daughter, mykal, has made the effort to spend some time with me almost every day this past week. she is working the evening shift today, so i will not see her at all today. she is taking my leaving pretty hard. i cannot understand why she is being so "clingy" of me. she is 35 years old and has two children of her own. she is the one who went away for eleven years and left me at home. (she had joined the army) now that i am the one traveling, she really wants me to stay home.

she is like her youngest son, carter. he is at the age where he has separation syndrome, where he cries every time his mom leaves him. even if it is just out of the room.

mykal has done just about everything she possibly could to keep me from traveling. first she had the baby, and even though i had returned home for her sisters children, she was convinced i was here for the new baby. then, she began paying me to babysit, because i was short of money. she supplied me with food when i was too broke to buy it for myself. she encouraged her sister to visit more often so i would not be lonely. (of course her sister didn't). she and/or her boyfriend would come take me out to dinner about once a week. she tries to get me to come to the functions of her oldest boy bradyn, but i don't really care to sit and watch soccer, or tai kwon do stuff. i went to baseball, i like baseball.

i do not know why i feel the need to travel. sometimes i think i am running away from something, but what is that something? boredom probably. living in a small town is not always the best thing. of course, i am not going to move to a big town/city, because my family is here, and i value my life. i work in one of those big towns, and it is nothing for us to get a patient who has a gunshot wound from a drive by shooting.

at least that gives a little interest in life. snipe hunting and cow tipping just is not that interesting anymore.

this was taken in end of february, beginning of march, 2008. mykal is the one with the flower on her neck. sarah is the one with the heart on her neck. of course, that is me in the middle.

another week at home

it seems to have been a week since i have last written here. i don't want this to be a general blog, so i have been avoiding to come here to write. i guess i shouldn't do that, as i may not blog here at all sometimes.
today was to be the day for me to leave to california. i was to begin my "new job" next monday, but the plans have been changed. when you work for the government, you have to be what they tagged as "VetPro". it is a certification that you are who you are and your license is really yours. it is to certify that you are not a terrorist.
when i had worked at the Miami Veterans hospital, i did this. or so i thought i did. each and every paper they requested, all the questions asked and answered, i did that. every form filled out, every picture supplied. diplomas, birth certificates, etc, etc, etc. they gave me access to the hospital, so i do believe i was vetproed. what it turned out to be, is that the person who was responsible for all this paper work and turning it all in to the right department, never filed my papers. therefore, i was never vetproed. for nine months, i worked at the Miami VA medical center, ILLEGALLY!
now, because there was some man in Miami, who is no longer there, who did not complete his job, it is preventing me from starting my job.
now, because some man in Miami, didn't complete his job, the new man in California has to complete it so that i can start my new job.
now, because of some man in Miami, i am sitting at my home in illinois, instead of in the seat of my van, on my way to omaha, nebraska, to spend the night with my friend before i continue on the road to utah or idaho to stay a night, before i go onto california to stay for two months.
well, that gives me a week now to complete things i had not gotten done before i left. they were menial little things, that would have done fine not being completed, but now my only excuse to not complete them would be procrastination, lol

i know who my ghost is now

a ghost lives in my house.
http://inmydreamsicanwrite.blogspot.com/2009/08/when-you-have-death-you-have-ghosts.html
well, two actually. i know i have mentioned them before, but i could not figure out who the one gentleman was, but now i think i know who he is. a friend of mine has come to live in the house while i go to california. of course i told her about my ghost friends, so she would not be afraid when one "showed" up. and her first night here, he did. she went to bed before i did, as she has had a rough few days, so was exhausted. i was sitting here at the trusty ol' computer, when i heard her yelling out, "tommie, tommie, help me!" i ran to check on her, and she was fast asleep, or so it seemed. when i turned on the light, she stirred a bit and told me she was having sleep paralysis, then she returned to sleep. about half an hour later, i hear her again. "tommie, help me! tommie!" so i run into her room again, and she tells me this time, "someone climbed into bed with me, and tickled my tummy. he crawled right across the foot of my bed and behind me, then tickled me! i know i sound crazy, but that is what happened!"truthfully, i thought maybe it was the meds she took to help her sleep, and the power of suggestion by my telling her of my ghosts, but today i realized something.my father has passed away too many years ago to count. when i do something new, he always shows up. he takes care of me, even after death. his sign that he is here is usually the plastic tips of those muriel cigars or canadian pennies. sometimes, but rarely, you can smell old spice after shave. he used to always give me canadian coins when i was a child and he smoked the cigars for years before his death, because the doctor told him to quit smoking cigarettes. i think that is why he chooses to leave those items behind, as i do remember him by them. when i was in florida a hundred years ago, my ex and the family were preparing to come back to illinois. we were packing the vehicles, walking all around them, tying ropes, etc. right next to a tree at the back end of the station wagon, were several cigar tips. when i moved into a house back in illinois, his ghost brushed me as he walked past. he checked every house i moved into after that. when mom passed, daddy actually showed himself to me. he was sitting on my sofa when i came from the bedroom. over the years, i have accepted that he will be there. he is my protector. now, why do i think this ghost that climbed into bed with my friend was daddy? well, daddy was a womanizer, and my friend looks like one of my dad's lady friends from the past. my ghost never went into my bedroom. or that of my daughter. my ghost has not been hanging around lately, and i think that is because i have been fairly well happy, so "daddy" would not need to be here. but now there is a change in my life, and my ghost is back. i texted my friend this morning and let her know of my discovery. i have mom and daddy's ashes in my living room. i called my daughter mykal and to let her know grampapoppy and grandma would be coming to live with her. i really don't think that is necessary, as daddy will go to california with me, but it will make my friend feel better.

let's eat!

today, i ran over to taylorville (20 miles)to get my tb injection. life in a small town. you can do nothing without driving somewhere else. :).
tomorrow, i will drive to decatur to get the brakes on the van changed and the belts looked at. (35 miles).
if you want to go out to eat, you go to vandalia, decatur, springfield, litchfield, or somewhere else even. you can plan on driving for an hour before you get to a decent restaurant. there are some restaurants in pana, don't get me wrong, but they are just "edible" food.
we have mickey d's. real name: mc donalds. um hmmm. even little pana has a mc donalds. we also have dairy queen. a little diner place that is only open until around 2 or 3 in the afternoon. and the greasy spoon truck stop, the rosebud. it has been there forever. some days their food is quite palatable. others...well, be glad they serve beer too. lol. pana bowl serves some fairly good sandwiches, but the buns always fall apart. they are too dry or something. but they have breaded ravioli. i don't know if it is baked or fried, but i really like it.
a wanna be buffet bar is out there next to the pana bowl. dang, i am old. i cannot remember the name. it has a bar in the back. they tried to be a family restaurant once before, but did not do too well. if you get there when the food is set out, it is an all right meal, but then it sits there for a bit and isn't so all right.
pana family restaurant is owned by a guy from somewhere else. not india, or iraq. palestinian?? i don't think so. but he is foreign. the food used to be REALLY good, but it certainly has changed.
they serve food at the bars uptown, but i have not eaten it. bob's steak house just changed hands, but i have never eaten there. and the chinese restaurant used to be pretty good until they went buffet. the flavor of the food went totally downhill.
when a restaurant opens here, and the food is really good, for some reason they don't get the business they need to stay open. and it can't be the cost, because most of them have been fairly reasonable.
oh, i forgot the mexican restaurant. their food is on the pretty good list, but if you go to decatur for theirs, it is much better.
we used to have a taco bell, in the gas station, but they closed a long time ago. we don't have a chicken or a fish place. we do have three pizza parlors. pizza hut, pizza man and maustell"s. they have some fairly decent pizza too. especially maustells crispy crust. yum.
life in a small town. if you want to go out to eat, don't wait until you are hungry to decide. it's going to be at least an hour if you want something good.

just crazy

why is this happening?
i am beginning to wonder if God really wants me to go to California, or what. no new vehicle. have to get new hose on the van. have to get new tires on the van. will probably need new brakes on the van. so, i have a sick van.
that is not it.
i have to get tb skin test. they tried to have me get a mmr shot. then they said i had to go to danville (almost three hours from me) to get fingerprinted. paperwork, paperwork and more paperwork. at least today i got the call that i can pass on the fingerprints because they "found" mine on file where ever they keep them on file for the VA.
so NOW, i am coming down with a major sinus infection!!
i think Illinois is just trying to kill me.
maybe the hospital where i suffered all day? at least the physicians assistant gave me an antibiotic (so i can get thrush and a yeast infection). wish i could have something to clear my nose and make me breathe! a touch of vicks vaporub helped for like 5 minutes. i swear i smell something but i really don't know. it is not a normal smell of my house. thing about it is that i cannot tell if that smell is really there, or just some odor trapped in my nose, because i think it is the same smell i smelled at work today.
i take that back. Illinois and the hospital is not trying to kill me. just make me believe i am crazy.

life goes on in california

life is going on. my life that is. i have pulled out of the depression it seems, as i usually do. is it bad that when i get depressed anymore, i don't worry about it? hmmm. i know, i am a strange cookie.
i have been working hard on getting ready for my trip to california. i am excited that i am going to meet people i have spoken with in some way or another, on the internet. armymoms who have shared the fears of this war that continues on.
my daughter is now a civilian, as many of the other moms i have "met". also, children of many of these moms are still soldiers. still deploying to iraq or afghanistan. their fears continuing. i am thankful that my daughter chose to "opt out" after she had her first son. to opt out is to just go home when your time is up. you did your job for however long you promised to do it, and then went home. unfortunately for many of my friends, their children did not opt out. they instead reupped. signed up for 4 more years. signed up for more time away from their families. not only their parents, but their wives and children too.
one of the moms that i have contact with, her son is leaving for his 5th tour overseas.
children are so unfair to us mothers.
in my job, i will get to deal with veterans. i do not know if it is the older guys, younger guys or a mixture of them. i just know i will be "shooting" the vets. the flu shot i will be giving is the general yearly one. the N1H1 is not available as of yet, but it will be soon. i do not know if i will be giving any of those though. never know.
well, this is not really the type of writing i wanted to do in this blog area, but i wanted to stop by and let people who are reading me to know that i am ok. i knew i would be.
huggssss

Depressed?

Depression. Everyone has it at one time or another in their life. Everyone will not experience it in the same extent. Not everyone will realize it is happening or has happened to them.
Yes, I am depressed. No one knows that I am except for myself.
I know I am because I have been here before, and it is not a fun world to be in. It does not happen to me in the extent that I need medicated to come out of it, but I have to do things to bring myself out, or I will need medications. That is one of the factors that put me here. Not medications, well, maybe that is one too, but why I do not look into getting medications while I am in this state of life.

Money. It is due to the fact that I am so broke, I am depressed. It is due to the fact that every pay day, I have to decide what bills I am going to jostle around and pay this time. It is a fear to get behind in payments of these bills. The realization that when the bills are paid, there is no money left for food or medications. It starts out as stress, then you eventually get depressed. And you realize the government is taking over $600 a month from your pay checks for taxes. Those taxes are paying the salaries of those people who are making attempts to tax you more even. Though you cannot pay your bills because half your pay check already goes to taxes to pay these politicians who don't have to pay for their medical treatment, and you cannot even afford to go to the doctor or buy your medicines because you are already paying for theirs.
Politics. I do not understand them, and what I do understand, angers me greatly. Therefore, I try to avoid politics because I do not need that anger in my life, so I will not become more depressed because I am paying the politicians to take more of my money.

Health. Even though I really try to not be ill, it happens. Hypertension is a part of my life, so I need to take medication to lower my blood pressure. My medication costs me $50 a month. Hypothyroidism is a part of my life. Without my medication I cannot function on a day to day basis even. (and depression is a wonderful effect of hypothyroidism). At least I can get by with getting that for $4 a month. (thank-you wal mart). Edema is a part of my life. That is when you get that swelling in your feet. In this past year, mine has worsened, so an increase in the medication dosage has happened, at least not an increase in the cost. Again, thank you wal mart, cost is $4 a month.
Now those are only my PRESCRIBED medications. There are others that are called "over the counter medicines", that many people probably think i can live without, but there are reasons I have to take things, like Vitamin E and C and Fish Oil, Oat Bran Tabs and Prilosec. There are health issues, and these medications are needed to get me past them. These medications are needed for me to be able to get out of bed every morning and make it through the day.
There are days that I do not take my medications. Sometimes I actually forget, and sometimes I intentionally pass them by so that it makes them last longer. Yes, I occasionally skip a day of medications to avoid having to buy more sooner, but I know if I skip too many days of medications, it is a big mistake.
So now why would I want to add an anti-depressant to my already growing list of medications? It would only cost me money, and it probably would not come in generic so gracious wal mart could sell it to me for $4 a month. It would be like my blood pressure medicine, and cost me $50 or greater a month.

Family. Yes, my family depresses me at times. Doesn't yours? Some people have no family, so they are saying "at least you have a family". Even some people that have families are saying that. When I am not going down into my depression periods, I love my family dearly.
My oldest son is not my oldest child. He is the second one I gave birth too, but if we are going to discuss family who depresses me the most, he has to be at the top of the list. One day, he will read this and not understand what he has done, or say "I didn't know" or "I didn't mean to", but whatever. Tim is still at the top of the list. In my words, he forgot where he came from. But if you look at my family history, it repeats itself. My father did it, my brother did it, and now my son is doing it. So is my son to blame? Or is it just something in his genes and he had no control over it?
What I tried to do with my children, is to raise them to be close to each other. To give them all the love I could to keep them together as a family should be. Tim grew up, joined the Navy, got married and forgot where he came from. He has little or no contact with the family. Well, his father calls him and pesters him, but that is so he can talk to Joe the grandson.
authors' note :*If you read this before, you will take note a large portion of it is missing. Right from here. I changed my mind and felt it did not belong here. One day I will share it with Tim, maybe. One day the hurt just might not matter anymore either.*
Mykal does not want me to leave, and she does try to make my life easier except for the guilt trips she throws on me when I make plans for my travel nurse tours. It depresses me because I have to leave my grandchildren behind, but that is something I have to do because my depression for my general life will swallow me up, and even my little mans' smile will not be enough. Mykal has a very busy life, but she tries to include me in most of it to keep me happy. She tries to take away some of my financial problems by paying me to babysit my boys.
Sarah has life's problems. She has difficulty with depression at times, so I think she would understand, but she cannot see others down times, for all the things happening in her life. When she is depressed, no one has a more terrible life than she does. When she is "up" she does not want to see others "downs" for fear it will grab her foot and pull her back in. She speaks out in anger and hurts those who love her while she is having her down time, then she is in her up periods, and has difficulty trying to understand why people just can't be happy for her. Sounds bipolar almost, doesn't it?
Curtis is a problem. He has never been able to do anything with his life. His father enabled him to stay in his psychological prison. There are times when I see Curtis peeking out the "door" of his "cage", and he has even found ability to step out of it a time or two, but he always gets sucked back in by the great winds of depression.

Relationships. I have none. With men at least. I tell people my life would be better if I had a man in it. To tell the truth, I do not know if it would be better, or if it would be worse, but there are times I would so like to have another adult in the house. The house is so quiet, and I get lonely. I eat alone. I watch tv alone. I play on the internet alone. I look outside the door, feel the nice breeze of the day, and I have no one to tell how nice it is. There is no one to hug me when I feel a little bit blue. There is no one to cook for but myself. No one to run to the store because I don't feel like it, so whatever I need from the store, I do without. In the morning when I leave for work, I leave a darkened house. At night when I come home, I come home to an even darker house. The answer is not to leave a light on. I tried that. The house was just empty then.
Yet, I so enjoy the quiet a lot of the time. I don't have to listen to the TV when I want it off. I only have my laundry to do. (which would be 8 loads today if i had someone else) I can eat when I want, what I want. I can come and go as I please, no one to answer to of where I am going. I don't have to argue that I want this here when he wants that there.
Then there is Randy. My ex husband. I even worry about how it will affect him if I were to get a "boyfriend" even. He is acting strange at times. Like he is still my husband, or it is his responsibility to take care of me. Of course, he did promise my father that he would. Maybe that is it?

My House. Even though I am proud to be able to own my own home, at least say I do, as the bank actually owns it, it is a big part of my depression. Due to health issues and just plain working, I am too tired to keep it how I would want it to be. Besides, my craft room cannot be downstairs because I had to "give" that room to the grandkids for when they are here. My upstairs will never be cleaned out. The downstairs will always be cluttered. My bedroom makes me happy because it is big and bright and as long as i keep the clutter out, spacious. But it caused me more debt, and the kitchen also caused me more debt. So though I now have a nice bedroom and a usable kitchen, I have more debt.
There are 4 rooms upstairs. I don't even like an upstairs. I do not feel comfortable being up there. When the house has no other people in it, the upstairs is another world to me, that is to far up? I cannot hear if someone comes into the house downstairs when I am upstairs. Multiple trips on the stairs takes the wind out of me, and I have to stop to make my heart stop pounding the wall of my chest, and that is only two or three trips, making them count as multiple. The upstairs is trashed out, and cluttered. It seems the more I try to clean it, the worse it gets. And the mess in the hallway downstairs, I don't even know what to do with any more.
There is curtains hanging over the door leading into the hall, or foyer. If i do not look beyond these curtains, I can forget that those messes are there even. Every time I try to work on the messes, it takes me down. Therefore, I choose to not work on the messes that often.
But I know my depression is deepening. The messes have spread into the living room and other rooms of the house. Mykal does not see this as depression. I do not know what she sees it as. That I am just procrastinating? Putting if off because I don't want to do it? She does not see that I really try.
The table is covered with things that have places they should be put, or just tossed out. My desk is getting deeper in papers and pictures, envelopes and non important things too. Baskets of clean laundry setting in the middle of the floor. One has been there for three weeks, one has been there for two. Her solution for that was to put it all in one basket. It is only towels and washcloths. Such a simple chore to fold them and place them in the closet, yet, they still sit there in the basket, and now I have washed more to add to the basket.
My own laundry, instead of in a basket, lays in a pile against the wall in my bedroom. What I normally watch and wash when a load builds up, now has probably three or four loads waiting for me. Clean uniform pants and capri pants lay folded on the foot of the bed. They had sat in a basket for over a week before that. Now they are waiting to be placed on hangers and hung in the closet. And the bed is not made.
The empty swimming pool in the back yard. The beginning of projects and leaving them unfinished. No desire to go finish them.

The Signs. These are all signs that my depression has returned to me. What people think are my lazy days are the days I cannot do anything. Days I can barely get out of bed, let alone get off the sofa once I light there. And if I know that all of this is my depression, why don't I do something to get out of it? Why don't I go to the doctor and get medication? I know it would probably help me, and put a stop to some of it, but I also know I have reactions to new medications I introduce to my body. How many "new pills" would I have to try before I found one that I could take and would be effective? Of course, how would I pay for all of the office visits and trial and error medications? Whose to say that I even really need that?
I am in a rut. That rut is called depression. It is hard to deal with because I know I am depressed, but I have no way to fix it. Self analyzation is a bitch ya know.

I was offered a travel position in California. It is 8 weeks giving flu shots to the veterans. Knowing I do not have the money to make the trip, takes me down even further, but I am going to do it anyways. Though I will be terribly homesick and miss my "babies", I know I need to get away from here. You might say I am running from my life. You can, because that is what I feel like I am doing. If I focus on my trip, I might be able to get my laundry done, because I have to. The dishes washed and put away. The cabinets/counters cleaned off. No, I will not be able to clean the hall and upstairs. That will just be there when I return.
I have to do this or I will have difficulty to bring myself out of the depression. Getting away from the "problems" will help. Meeting new people will help. I do hope I still have the job at the hospital when I return, but if not, then I will go somewhere else to work.
Depression. It is a terrible thing to have in your life. I know it is. I have it right now. Don't worry though, it will all be OK.

can i travel again?

i guess i have not been writing in my dreams lately, as i have not been writing here. not even to finish my sister story. of course, i never mentioned earlier how much of a procrastinator that i am. such a procrastinator, it is a wonder i was on time for my birth!
today i got a phone call from a travel nurse agency. maybe it is the one i have been waiting for? they say that there is several positions in california at this time for the flu clinics at the veterans administration.
how cool is that?
i am not as excited as i normally would have been.
it seems i have been away from the travel nursing long enough, that i don't care if i travel again or not. but i do feel that "i really want to go" sneaking up in there. it will only be two months away from home. i will receive 2 dollars an hour more than i am currently making. i will get to drive across the states and maybe see something. i will get to see the ocean on that side of the world again. i will get away from this job i am wanting to get away from. i will miss the boys. i will worry if they are ok without me. i will have no family to visit me.
eight weeks
plus 2 weeks travel.
ten weeks, or close to that.
but, it is california. maybe i will get to see my friend micki, or get to meet dan the man?
it will be a day or so, probably the so, before i find out if i was accepted for one of the positions or not. if i am accepted, i will have to worry about getting out there. just a general look, 32 hours of driving. by myself. which i am ok with most times, but since i did have a slight problem with it just recently, i wonder if it is in good enough condition now to go that far? it is driving much smoother right now, so i think so.
it may seem as if i am trying to talk myself out of it, but that is not it. what it is, is that i do want to go so bad, i am afraid it can't happen. are the tires ok? will the belts need changed? will have to pack my "traveling home". where will i get the money to leave? (i will get reimbursement after i get there and file for it).
when i did the travel nurse thing awhile back, i was doing ok financially and did not have to worry about where the money was going to come from. being home, the wages were lower and the bills higher. on this trip, i will make just a bit more than at home, but i will not get the extras which i had gotten on my last trip. which was really great as i was able to stash $500 a month into my savings account.
that will not happen this "tour".
especially since it is only an 8 week tour.
most others are 12 weeks with the option later to re-up for another 12 weeks. then, you can make friends, rent a room from them, and take the housing stipend to put into your savings account. that is how i managed it before. won't happen with only an 8 week stint.
then, i will have to come back home. unless i am offered something else somewhere else. which, i will not hold my breath waiting for an assignment. there is NOTHING out there. well, a bit of an exaggeration. (wow, i did spell check because i thought i spelled exaggeration wrong, but i was wrong, i spelled it right!!) if there are any positions out there that i am eligible for, there are also 500 more lpns eligible for them.
the economy has even hit nurses.
i look at low census days each week. i lose vacation time every time they call me to take a census day. oh, i could take the day off unpaid, but then, which bill collector would allow me to pass on this months' payment?
that is another reason i am ready to do the traveling thing again. at least it is guarenteed work, because a contract is signed.
not a story, but at least i wrote.
good night all.

i am a nurse, part two

i really wish i felt like looking for that photo of me at the first nursing job i held, but you will have to do without it. by the time i was writing the other night, i was tired and i forgot to tell you some of the things i wanted to tell you. first off, that "smock" that i was wearing as a student, was one of the UGLIEST things i have ever worn in my life. it was neon pink and heavy polyester. there was not one student that liked it. though i did keep it for years afterward, i finally burned it with the trash. do you know that polyester does not burn very well?
when i was going to nursing school, my husband at the time was not working. he was on unemployment. the first half of my training, he was really good to me and took care of the kids so i could study when i got home. the second half of the training, when i had to do clinicals, he was not so supportive. i had to take a weekend job so that i would have money for gas and lunches. after classes, i would come home to make meals and do household chores, then at night when i tried to study, he would not help with the kids any. therefore i had to help them with their studies and put them to bed. regardless of his efforts to pull me down and set me up for failure, my grades remained above the C average. his mother made him go to my graduation.
in january of 1985, i officially became a Licensed Practical Nurse.
my first position was over an hour from home. i worked there for three months making $5.25 an hour. it was in a nursing home. the reason i accepted the position so far from home is that this was the only facility i could find that would allow me to work before i had taken my boards. (that is the testing you take to earn your license). i worked under the supervision of a RN. my first night of passing medications on my own, i gave a patient the wrong medication. i was ready to throw in the towel and never return to nursing. the nurse i was working with laughed so hard she could barely speak to the doctor to tell him of the medication error. i could not call him as i was crying. she even had the doctor laughing. as you can tell, the medication was nothing that would harm the patient, so at least i had not begun my profession by killing off patients.
my favorite patient at this nursing home was a schizophrenic little lady. probably all of 5 foot tall and maybe weighed 100 pounds. she did not take kindly to other people. paranoid about what every one was doing around her, and would not even speak to the nurses when they spoke to her.
she always wore a dress that hung straight on her, and a sweater. on her feet, she wore white socks and tennis shoes. her short gray hair in a pixie cut. her eyes dark and troubled. she had taken to me. she would follow me around as i passed my medicines, or stand at the desk watching over it as i charted on other patients. i never had a problem out of her, though the other nurses warned me that i would.
i worked the evening shift. one day i arrived at work, and she rushed up to me. you could see that she was frightened. she grasped my arm tightly, telling me "there's something wrong with my feet". i looked down at her feet, and nothing seemed apparent. i asked her if they hurt, and she said no, they didn't. she repeatedly told me there was something wrong with her feet. when i sat her in a chair so that i could examine her feet, i asked her what was wrong with her feet. i am leaning down to remove her shoes and socks, which surprises all other staff members, as this woman lets no one touch her. they could get nothing out of her all day. she waited the whole day for me to arrive at work.
i am removing one of her shoes when she said to me, "they're black". i was not sure what she said, so i asked her "what?" my little lady said again, "they're black, my feet are black. they are dead and they will fall off. i have gangrene in my feet. they are black and they are dead".
as i was beginning to remove a sock, i had to stifle a laugh. her feet were perfectly pink. they were warm and pulses were strong. as i replaced her sock to her foot, i looked up to her and explained to her, "your feet are ok." i am still stifling my laugh as she again tells me, "no they are not ok, they are black." it took some time for me to get her to understand that it was not her feet that was black, that it was her socks.
it was one of the coldest years in illinois that winter. i drove a car that had no heater, and scraped the inside of the window with a piece of hard plastic so that i could see to drive to work. when i had a car with a heater in it, i blew a tire on the way home in nineteen below zero weather, with no spare tire. after i had my license in hand, i went to work closer to home. it was in a smaller nursing home, about 20 miles from home.
i worked the midnight shift, and had my first experience with a patient having a seizure. learned i loved taking care of the patients wounds. encountered my first case of shingles. when my husband at the time told me i still worked too far from home, i quit this position and got my third one within 5 miles of home.
this is the job i held, where i learned to be a nurse. and i want to thank my good friend, patty rowley for this. yes, patty is one of the women who carpooled with me to classes. and patty is the nurse i teamed up with to work midnight shift at a nursing home that was a place to learn in itself.
we had both been nurses for less than a year, but patty had worked as a nursing assistant for several years. therefore being more familiar with the type of work we were doing . patty taught me team work. we had about 100 patients to care for. on a good night, we had 4 nursing assistants to work with us. on a not so good night, well, patty and i became nursing assistants and helped turn and clean patients on rounds, as well as our nursing duties.
this nursing facility took in any type of patient that would come here. we had patients who had feeding tubes inserted through their nose into their stomachs. when they pulled them out, we had to replace them. this was before the time of all the formulas in cans, and we were putting pureed food into these tubes with syringes.
we had patients with ventilators. here we had to insert tracheostomy tubes because the patient would pull it out and toss it across the room. we had to learn to suction the patient through this trach so that he would not drown on his own secretions. we had to learn how to set up the ventilator and keep it going in a power outage. most of all, we had to learn how to reassure this patient that he was not going to die on our shift because he could not breathe properly. on midnight shift, we were the RN. no, we did not have that license, but we had only us. two new nurses learning together.
thank God one nurse was patty.
she was hungry for knowledge. she taught me to find answers. she taught me to fight for my patients to get the care they needed from the doctors. we were half of each other. what one did not know, the other probably did. we completed each other sentences. if we did a procedure together, we were each others hands, not having to tell the other what step to do next.
i was working with patty the night i had my first death. i had just checked on my patient. a woman in a room by herself. respiratory problems. now at the opposite end of the hall, patty called out to me, and i came back to her outside the womans room. patty asked me if i had checked on this woman, and i told her yes i did, and she said to me, "are you sure? she is dead you know".
"what! no she is not dead! i was just in there and she was breathing!"
"well, she must have been taking her last breath, because she is dead".
turning on the light, i went to her bedside. she took one last breath at this time, and then she was gone. that night, i learned to call a family, and tell them that their mom just took a turn for the worse and might not make it, then wait for them to arrive and tell them she passed just before they got there. i learned how to be there for the daughter because she just could not bear to say goodbye to mom by herself. you learn how to make the dead look like they are still alive, only sleeping. you learn that there is life after death, because even though your patient has died, you still have work to do.
we worked together in this nursing home for a couple of years. it seemed much longer than that. we learned so much together. we worked midnights, then evenings. i learned so much because of her. she was there when i got divorced, and she was there when i got married for a second time.
we had many nights of laughter, such as the night she set my one gray hair on fire. i had laid my head to rest on the table. she saw my gray hair, and thought she would do me a favor by burning it off my head, not thinking that the other hairs would catch fire also. luckily, she figured that out quite quickly, and it only sizzled the ends of my hair, but i got even. i have to laugh inside as i remember it. there are these large bandages, that look like old fashioned kotex pads, only wider. they are called a b d pads. they are soaker pads for large wounds. i took the abd pad and placed it on my head, tying it in place with a long piece of gauze, with a bow under my chin like an easter bonnet. i walked around like this the biggest part of the night, with patty laughing and crying at the same time because she felt so bad that she almost burned me up, but found my response so funny.
patty left me to go to california. she worked in a hospital there, and found her own husband. we lost touch over the years, but i will never forget her. i am the nurse that i am because of her.
that is about the first seven years of my nursing career. after that, i went to work at a hospital for 5 or 6 years. bed baths and pill passing. the staff i worked with was cold and non caring. the drive was too much for me, and after falling asleep coming home for the third time, i left there for another nursing home. so many stories, so many tears of joy and sadness. for seven years, i lost grandma too many times.
because i am a nurse, and because i deal with death quite frequently, it made it easier to let my mother go when her time came. i understood that wishing her to stay with us would only cause her more suffering and pain. i understood that as she neared death, she was ready for it. being a nurse, i was able to let her go.
all nurses should work in nursing homes. i don't mean for their entire career. it is too hard for some of us to do that. what i mean is, that all nurses should be required to spend a year or two in a nursing home so that they can learn how to work with love in your heart. how to help a patient die with dignity, and how to let one go. only in a nursing home do you get to feel the love of your patient because they become your family. you learn how to whisper them away when death comes for them. you hold their hand because they have no other family members left to hold their hand.
when you work in a nursing home, when you are having a bad day, "grandma" will hug it away. when you are having a good day, "grandpa" will remind you how quickly it can go bad. you know there is a God. you see miracles happen.
you ask me, if i enjoyed working in the nursing homes so much, why did i leave, why do i now work in a hospital?
unfortunately, because "grandma" died one too many times. my last one i was so attached too, when she passed on, the pain was so great, i found it hard to continue working at the home. only waiting to lose the next one.
in a hospital, we lose patients. yes we do, but we send more of them home.

it has been 25 years since i became a nurse. because of what we call "burn out", i almost quit nursing. instead i took up travel nursing. i remained on staff at my "home" hospital, on a per diem basis. i did not want to burn my bridges behind me, which is a good thing i didn't. right now i am unable to acquire any travel positions, so i work full time at my "home" position.

when you travel nurse, they do things differently in "other parts" of our country. lafayette, louisiana is where i landed my first travel position. i had much difficulty learning to understand the french cajun's speaking, but after i did we did well. i got to meet an alligator almost face to face.

they are a little more laid back in loueeseeana. a very enjoyable place to be. i got to meet alot of nurses from other parts of the country, and after 5 months there i got to move on to miami.

there i worked on the spinal cord unit of the veterans hospital. never think you know it all. my patients were paralyzed from just a tad bit, to partial, to complete. care for them is not what i was taught. it was a total different story. i will not go into detail of what i learned in caring for these people, but what i will tell you is that before miami, my paralyzed patients were not getting proper care. so far from it.

travel nursing has given me the ability to bring further learning/teaching back to my current position. it gave me the ability to show my co-workers how to better care for some of our patients today. how to make it easier to get someone in and out of bed with a lift. how to apply the sling to ensure better comfort for the patient.

i am ready to return to travel nursing. they are just not ready for me. so i stay home.

twenty five years ago, i had no idea i would still be doing this today. twenty five years ago, i could not even look at the needle as i prepared to give my first "shot in the butt".

this is the beginning of nine months in miami. gwen, rolanda, me, donna, kris, i forget, in back in blue is marsha then cathy. i don't remember the names of the others.

i am a nurse.

I Am a Nurse

in this photo, i am in the bottom row third from left. the nurse 5th from left in the second row up, is the reason i am a good nurse. patty rowley, myra collins and me, rode to school together every day. taking turns driving, we studied our butts off in those cars.

just the flick of the wrong key, and a whole story is gone. good thing i didn't have a whole story.

actually, the story still may be gone, because i forgot what it was going to lead into after the line, "i am a nurse". i know i was thinking about my patient and today, but i am not quite sure what it was about. let me start again.

this is me in full white uniform. look at that huge hat

i am a nurse. yes, i know i have already mentioned that somewhere in the beginning. wait, this is still pretty much the beginning. well, no matter i am going to tell you again. i am a nurse.

this is me and my sister daryl on the night of my graduation. we were always having fallings out, but she came to my graduation regardless of any problems we might have been having. and for her to drive that far, in the dark , was because she loved me.

now, i am sure that what has come to your mind are the letters "RN". that would be nice, because there is a much better paycheck that goes with those letters, but my letters are "LPN". i am a much better nurse. when i first became a nurse, people would say that LPN stood for "Low Paid Nurse" and that RN was "Real Nurse." as the years moved on, LPN became "Little Peeon Nurse" and "Let's Play Nurse". finally, i have decided that LPN stands for "Life's Perfect Nurse", because that is what i am. well, maybe not so perfect, but i am a dam good nurse, and i know it. i work hard at being good at what i do.

this is elizabeth and me

go to look for a picture, and lose the train of thought you were following for the story. yes, i am old. what can i say. i left my story to find pictures of me as a nurse. i was able to find my nursing class photo, and some very grainy ones of the graduation. i know that there is one of me at my very first nursing position, but i have moved things about in the house because i was redoing some of the rooms. that photo is most likely in the bottom of that rubbermaid bucket with the miscellaneous photos. though i am not going to dig that photo out, i do have some more recent shots of me, being a nurse.

getting my nursing hat. until graduation, it had a red ribbon on top of a gray ribbon, signifying student nurse. this day, the red ribbon was removed.

we have definitely come a long way. i graduated nursing class in august of 1984. we were the largest lpn class that they had held in that school. the largest graduating lpn class from that school. the class was made up almost entirely of women. we had one man. he did not feel uncomfortable being the only male in such a large room of women. nursing is what he wanted to do, and he did what he had to to get his degree.

from the left, myra collins, me , i don't remember and patty rowley.

as you can tell, it was not all hard work. these two photos were of the students simulating a severe accident. it was probably a plane crash. it was so unorganized, i laid on a gurney for over an hour before i figured out that i had already "had my surgery". no one knew where i was. i was in the surgical hold. i stayed put because that is what i was told to do. such a good student i was. lol.

when i was in the clinicals, the RN's gave the students a hard time. there was not a day that didn't go by without one of them telling me they did not know why i was taking this class, as they were not going to be using LPN's anymore. they were phasing them out. as you can tell, i was not phased out. the RN's on the floor were supposed to supervise the students, and assist as needed, but they sat at the desk while we tried to give proper bed baths or do little tasks. but i will never forget when a RN was told to put a patient on a bed pan, and she didn't even know how!

well, i took too long looking for the photos, so i must go to bed now. i will complete my story another time. the brain will be more awake and functional then maybe?

hugggggggssssssss

Reading, Writing and Pictures

who reads my work? i sometimes wonder that, but i do know that my friend jean reads it. i just wonder does anyone else? my family or other friends who i have supplied the link to, or if strangers even read it, and if they do, what do they get from it?

what i think i wonder about it for, is i want those who read it to actually enjoy what i write. i hid this blog at first. well, not hidden really, i just did not tell anyone about it. i was not going to share. what i was going to do was just write, to satisfy my need to write, and let it set here for "strangers" to find and enjoy. then i wrote the story about the blanket, on the blog connected with this one. i really wanted to share that with my son. originally, it was going to be a whiny blog, about how my son does not seem to be one of the family anymore, but it turned out to be a pretty good story about the blanket he grew up with, and now is inside his son's blanket. so, i had to share. now i cannot whine about my son who moved away and married and never comes home.

I Should Write a Book

people are always telling me i should write a book. those people are usually my patients. my "trapped" audience. they are in the hospital, in the room, with this crazy nurse taking care of them. they make the mistake of asking me a little about myself, and they usually get a whole story of some sort about me. i make them laugh, and i make them cry. and in the end, they always tell me, "you should write i book, i would read it!"

i only wish i had the ability to actually write a book. it is not the same though as telling a one or two person audience a story.

Oh I Want to be in Pictures

as i look about other blogs, they have lots of pictures. it looks so easy to have them in the blog. but when i try to do it, it is a whole other dimension in life! i go to the top of this box that i am typing in, and click on the little icon to add the picture. so far so good. then when the picture comes up, it is at the very top of this box. no where near where i want it placed. then i have to work and finangle it down to the position i want it to be, but i do not think that any of the pictures i have placed in the blog are actually where i wanted them to be.

ok, here is a photo of me from three years ago. this was taken in a restaurant in nebraska after i visited a friend. it was easy enough to place, because i really don't have a spot that i want it to be. but it still was at the top of the page in the first place.

ok now, it was not exactly where i wanted it, and now i am making the attempt to place it correctly, it is not working, so i am leaving it just where it landed. maybe another time.

i have used this picture for other purposes, and people asked me why i looked mad. i thought i looked deep in though myself.

and jean makes videos. one day i will make one of those too, but i am not gonna ride a bike to do it.

well, that is enough for now. take care all

huggsssss

When You Have Death, You Have Ghosts

this evening i went to the wake of a little girl. wait, they don't call it that anymore. they call it visitation now. this little girl, Madison, was 5 years old, and she developed a cancer in the back of her neck. when it was almost healed, the cancer spread to her lungs and wrapped around her little heart, taking her from us very quickly.
her mother works at the hospital with me. she was doing quite well considering her daughter died in her arms 4 nights ago. when i went in to hug her, she grabbed me so tight saying "thank you for coming, this means so much to me", over and over again. i did my best not to cry, because i did not want to make her cry. we both succeeded with but a few tears escaping down our cheeks.
madison is in a much better place now. free of sickness and pain. full of love. though she did not have to die to get that. her home was already full of love.

in my job, i deal with death alot. i am a nurse. for many years, i worked in nursing homes, whispering in the ears of those who were so close, but yet hanging on. just waiting for someone to tell them that all would be ok if they went home. many of them, dying alone, for their family members had already passed on before them.
now i am working in a hospital, and though i still deal with death, it is not as frequent as in the nursing home settings. i work on what is called med surg. we get mostly sick patients; pneumonia, stomach problems, cellulitis (infection in the skin) and when they have nasty, nasty wounds, we get 'em. sometimes we get a surgery, but nothing big. therefore, we are called med surg.
we get to send people home! i mean, home here on earth. it does not necessarily mean that they are well, but we do make people well sometimes before they go home.

There Is a Ghost in My House

and it is being onery.
i can hear music playing somewhere over towards my bedroom. at first, i thought my radio clock had gone off. when i went to check it, the music stopped. there is none coming from outside. i checked that too. now that i am back here by the computer, the music is going again. it sounds like a radio playing. every time i go to find it, it stops.
i do have a ghost in my house. two to be exact, unless i have acquired a new one.
my ghosts are not bad, they are just here. i used to hear one walking around upstairs. he came with the house. i believe it is a he. he has never given me reason to believe elsewise.
the other ghost is my nephew by marriage, randy joe. he died after i moved in here. he was in his early twenties, and after several misdiagnoses, they discovered he had leukemia. way too late to save his life.
when i was home alone, upstairs sewing, he would walk up and down the stairs. i could feel him peeking over the rail at me, like he was giggling. i could feel him wanting me to turn around to catch him playing hide and seek, but he is a ghost, so of course i didn't see him.
my ghosts would only make their presence known to me when i was alone. whenever the others were home, my ghosts most likely went elsewhere. and then i was really alone. my whole family moved out, leaving me to live here by myself.
they didn't just dump me. they grew up and went on their way.
can you say "empty nest syndrome"? i had it so bad. the ex moved out on me, then the kids left me one family at a time. lol. first it was randy, then curtis, then sarah took her two hoodlums and got a place with her "other" person. then mykal and her boyfriend took my bradyn and got a home of their own.
before the last little group of my family had moved out, i started construction on a new bedroom. when my new bedroom was completed, i emptied the living room into my old bedroom, and set my computer desk up where the living room used to be. over in a corner. the living room was now "my office". the center of the floor being empty, the dining area still to one far side like it had always been.
i am not too proud to admit, i am addicted to the computer. though i will say, with out the computer, i don't know where i would be. it was people on the other end of the line who kept me sane. in 50 years, i had never lived alone. never. now i lived in a big house, and my only companion was a dog.
but that is not the story, so let's move on.
during the day, i worked. then i would come home to an empty house, do some chores, then settle down in front of the computer. i never had many lights on. no tv running. and you could hear them. my man walking around upstairs, and randy joe on the stairs. i do not remember them ever coming to the living room before, but one night, i began feeling someone looking over my shoulder as i worked on the computer. of course, no one was there.
at first, buddy the dog, would get under my feet, but i reckon he finally adjusted to my company, because he didn't seem to be bothered by them. so though i was alone, i was not alone.
then i went travel nursing. and hired my carpenter to fix the kitchen and bathroom. then i came home again. i moved my office into my bedroom because the old living room was trashed out due to everything was put into it for the remodel job. it was a total mess, and i had to clean it out.
it took me all summer, but i remodeled the living room myself, tearing out carpet, painting walls and the floor. i returned the living room to it's original place. my "office" in a different corner now, on the dining room side.
my ghosts were gone.
i do not know where they went to. i do not think they liked the "new" living room. no one walking about upstairs. no one looking over my shoulder. it has been quite sometime since i last heard my men.
then, a couple months ago, i set my sewing room back up. it is upstairs. the room where randy joe would come up behind me and peek over the rail, daring me to turn to catch him. and he was there again. i was sewing a dress for willow, and i could feel randy joe giggling over on the stair case, peeking over the rail at me as i worked.
then a few days later, i heard my gentleman, walking about upstairs. he must have been checking out what i had been doing. it is a mess up there. i am sure he does not approve of it. but, i do not see him doing anything to help.
they are not the only ghosts i have had in my home. i had not lived here long, and my mother had become very ill. i came out of my old bedroom, and my father was sitting on my sofa. as clear as day.
my father had been dead for 15 years. or something like that. he was looking towards the bedroom door, sitting in the corner of the sofa. one leg crossed over the other. his arm draped across the back of the sofa. he didn't say anything, or do anything. he was just there, then gone. not long after that day, my mother went to join him.
i am sure they have both been here since. i hear my mother call my name. i find the white tips from muriel cigars laying about. daddy smoked those before he passed. you can smell the chantilly lace sometimes after mom has been here. i know they are only visiting me to make sure i am all right.
it is funny. the music is still playing. it is not loud enough so that i can make out what it is, but it is like someone is teasing me, making it just loud enough so that i know it is there, and when i go over towards the bedroom, it will stop. all will be quiet. the room has been there for over two years now. maybe i have a new ghost? maybe it is Madison adding some youth to my group of admirers?
hugggggsssssssss