So Christmas is right around the corner, so I have a present for all you nursey types. Enjoy!
The Night Before Christmas, Hospital Style
‘Twas the night before Christmas and all through the ward
Not a patient was stirring, no sound to be heard;
The IV bags were hung on the poles with great care,
In the hopes they’d keep dripping, not fill up with air;
The patients were tucked up all snug in their beds,
While visions of discharge danced in their heads;
The charting all done, the nurses all sat,
And had just settled down for a long winter’s chat,
When out in the hall there arose such a clatter,
They sprang from their chairs to see what was the matter.
Away to room 7 they flew like in flight,
Tore open the curtains, and threw on the light.
The lights on the patients, pale as the snow
Gave the luster of mid-day to their faces below,
When what to their wondering eyes should appear,
But a great big ol’sleigh and eight fat reindeer,
With a driver in scrubs and headed straight for the wall,
They knew in a moment it was the doctor on call!
More slowly than snails those fat animals came,
As he whined, and snarled, and called them by name;
“Now Pre-op! Now Pnemo! Now PE and Staph!
On Chemo! On Cipro On Flagyl and Ancef!
To the top of the hospital! To the roof of this place!
Now move your fat asses and pick up the pace!”
So up to the helipad the reindeer they flew,
With a sleigh full of BP cuffs and stethoscopes too.
And then in mere moments the nurses heard from the roof
A sound just like thunder from each reindeer hoof.
The nurses drew in their breath and looked out to the hall,
Standing there with a scowl was the doctor on call.
Wearing surgical green form his feet to his head,
He was rumpled and mussed like he fell out of bed;
A bundle of equipment he had flung on his back,
And he looked like he’d just finished at least one six-pack.
His eyes – they were bleary! His expression not merry!
His face was all haggard and his nose like a cherry!
His dry little mouth was drawn up in a frown,
And the beard on his chin was days-old and brown;
The cap of a pen he held clamped in his teeth,
And his stethoscope wrapped round his neck like a wreath;
He had a narrow face but a big old round belly,
That shook when he walked like a bowl full of jelly.
He was tired and grumpy not at all like an elf;
And the nurses backed up in spite of themselves.
A slow blink of his eyes and a shake of his head,
Succeeded in filling the nurses with dread.
He spoke not a word but went straight to work,
Ripped the bandage off one patient’s arm with a jerk,
Then sticking his fat finger right up his nose,
He turned on his heel and up the staircase he rose;
Lumbered up to the sleigh, cracked the whip with such force,
That the reindeer took off like a team of wild horses.
They heard him exclaim as he drove out of sight,
“It’s Christmas goddamn it, don’t call again tonight!”
Friday, December 22, 2006
Saturday, December 16, 2006
I feel a rant coming on...
Okay, so yesterday was an awful day and I feel the need to bitch about it so I can move on. I figured this was a much better forum than complaining at work, especially since I considered bringing up the subject during the next staff meeting, which would make me public enemy number one. The issue is the amount of time the day staff people spend on "breaks."
I am an evening float nurse, which means I work from 3pm to 11pm. Half my shift is with the day staff (they work 7am to 7pm), and the other half is with the night staff. Most days when I start work, a couple of people immediately go for "coffee," which means they pick up a coffee downstairs and then sit in the back room for a few minutes and rest. Sometimes the smokers will go for a smoke break. Most of the time I don't really mind. After all, not everyone goes and they usually only go for half an hour at the most. When I used to work day shift, I would occasionally sit in the back for a few minutes if my rooms were quiet and I had all my charting done. However, if my call bell rang, I would go answer it.
Yesterday, I spent the entire first half of my shift with at least someone on break. And it was BUSY! When I first got there, one of the smokers went for a break, but she was only gone for about 20 minutes. She's pretty good about not going unless her rooms are quiet, and sure enough her call bells did not ring once while she was gone. The three non-smoking nurses went for a break when she came back. They sat in the back room for at least 45 minutes and their bells were going off like fireworks. At one point there were four bells ringing! When I went to the back to ask for help, they complained that the two smokers went on a really long lunch(before I start) and that they had to cover for them, so those two nurses should be helping.
Well, anyone who has a job anywhere knows that what should happen and what does happen are two entirely different things. The one nurse did help with a couple of bells, but the other nurse basically stayed in her rooms the whole time. To be fair, she did have a patient with a GI bleed (bleeding in the gastrointestinal system, a potentially fatal problem). The other float nurse was run off her feet just as much as I was. When all the call bells were ringing, she was trying to admit a patient back from the operating room.
So, the time for first supper break came at around 4:30 and the three nurses were still sitting in the back. The smokers and me were supposed to go for that break, but of course, I couldn't go until the others came back. At 4:40, somebody's PCA (patient controlled analgesia) pump started to beep because the bag was empty. When I went to check what kind of medication was in there, I noticed that the doctor had ordered for it to be replaced with oral medication. I'm pretty sure that my blood sugar was getting low because, while I wasn't mad, I was getting pretty cranky. I went into the back room to make sure the nurse wanted the PCA to be done, and she said yes. I was probably more curt than usual because a couple of minutes later she came out and asked if I was angry with her. I wasn't; I was just frustrated with how busy it was and the fact that I was now 15 minutes late for my own break. She said that it wasn't fair because the smokers go for long breaks and that she shouldn't feel bad for having a break, too. I agree, but I don't think it's fair for me to be covering for three nurses when it's that busy. Anyway, I finally got a break, and when I came back, the floor was just as busy. In fact, the nurses that had the long afternoon break skipped their dinner break because it was too busy to leave(although I'm sure they put in for overtime to make it up).
Okay, so here's the part that drives me nuts everytime the nurses protest about being entitled to an afternoon break: according to our union agreement, we're not. In a 12 hour shift, we are entitled to two half-hour meal breaks and two 15-minute coffee breaks. On most floors including ours, we combine the coffee breaks into an additional meal break. That equals three meal breaks with no afternoon coffee breaks. The culture on our unit also means we usually stretch those meal breaks to about 45 minutes, sometimes an hour. Nobody minds this because everyone does it. The problem comes when 3pm rolls around and people take an extra coffee break. Like I said before, I don't usually mind because it is generally quiet on the floor this time of day and the nurses are usually gone for only a few minutes. But yesterday was ridiculous, as far as I'm concerned. I should not be spending four hours of my shift with at least one nurse off the floor the whole time.
Okay, so now I feel better. And I don't want you to think I don't like my job or my co-workers, because I do. In fact, I know at least a couple of my co-workers will be reading this. I also don't want to make them feel guilty, I just wanted to express how I feel sometimes.
End rant.
I am an evening float nurse, which means I work from 3pm to 11pm. Half my shift is with the day staff (they work 7am to 7pm), and the other half is with the night staff. Most days when I start work, a couple of people immediately go for "coffee," which means they pick up a coffee downstairs and then sit in the back room for a few minutes and rest. Sometimes the smokers will go for a smoke break. Most of the time I don't really mind. After all, not everyone goes and they usually only go for half an hour at the most. When I used to work day shift, I would occasionally sit in the back for a few minutes if my rooms were quiet and I had all my charting done. However, if my call bell rang, I would go answer it.
Yesterday, I spent the entire first half of my shift with at least someone on break. And it was BUSY! When I first got there, one of the smokers went for a break, but she was only gone for about 20 minutes. She's pretty good about not going unless her rooms are quiet, and sure enough her call bells did not ring once while she was gone. The three non-smoking nurses went for a break when she came back. They sat in the back room for at least 45 minutes and their bells were going off like fireworks. At one point there were four bells ringing! When I went to the back to ask for help, they complained that the two smokers went on a really long lunch(before I start) and that they had to cover for them, so those two nurses should be helping.
Well, anyone who has a job anywhere knows that what should happen and what does happen are two entirely different things. The one nurse did help with a couple of bells, but the other nurse basically stayed in her rooms the whole time. To be fair, she did have a patient with a GI bleed (bleeding in the gastrointestinal system, a potentially fatal problem). The other float nurse was run off her feet just as much as I was. When all the call bells were ringing, she was trying to admit a patient back from the operating room.
So, the time for first supper break came at around 4:30 and the three nurses were still sitting in the back. The smokers and me were supposed to go for that break, but of course, I couldn't go until the others came back. At 4:40, somebody's PCA (patient controlled analgesia) pump started to beep because the bag was empty. When I went to check what kind of medication was in there, I noticed that the doctor had ordered for it to be replaced with oral medication. I'm pretty sure that my blood sugar was getting low because, while I wasn't mad, I was getting pretty cranky. I went into the back room to make sure the nurse wanted the PCA to be done, and she said yes. I was probably more curt than usual because a couple of minutes later she came out and asked if I was angry with her. I wasn't; I was just frustrated with how busy it was and the fact that I was now 15 minutes late for my own break. She said that it wasn't fair because the smokers go for long breaks and that she shouldn't feel bad for having a break, too. I agree, but I don't think it's fair for me to be covering for three nurses when it's that busy. Anyway, I finally got a break, and when I came back, the floor was just as busy. In fact, the nurses that had the long afternoon break skipped their dinner break because it was too busy to leave(although I'm sure they put in for overtime to make it up).
Okay, so here's the part that drives me nuts everytime the nurses protest about being entitled to an afternoon break: according to our union agreement, we're not. In a 12 hour shift, we are entitled to two half-hour meal breaks and two 15-minute coffee breaks. On most floors including ours, we combine the coffee breaks into an additional meal break. That equals three meal breaks with no afternoon coffee breaks. The culture on our unit also means we usually stretch those meal breaks to about 45 minutes, sometimes an hour. Nobody minds this because everyone does it. The problem comes when 3pm rolls around and people take an extra coffee break. Like I said before, I don't usually mind because it is generally quiet on the floor this time of day and the nurses are usually gone for only a few minutes. But yesterday was ridiculous, as far as I'm concerned. I should not be spending four hours of my shift with at least one nurse off the floor the whole time.
Okay, so now I feel better. And I don't want you to think I don't like my job or my co-workers, because I do. In fact, I know at least a couple of my co-workers will be reading this. I also don't want to make them feel guilty, I just wanted to express how I feel sometimes.
End rant.
Monday, December 11, 2006
This one's for you Rory!
Wow! People actually read my blog! I know this because two different people (okay one of them was my sister) asked me why I haven't posted lately. It's because there's been a lot going on lately, so I'll catch up.
Firstly, my step-daughter had her baby. She had a girl, Ivy Danu, on November 25 at 1pm. Ivy weighed 6lb 8oz at birth but she now weighs more than 8lb! She's a good eater! And she's so cute. I just love her and I can't wait till I have my own little one. She was born with a lot of light brown hair (well, a lot for a newborn) and she's grown even more. I can't wait until she's old enough to smile and laugh. Grandma's got some tricks up her sleeve to make that baby giggle!
Secondly, I have finished the first trimester of my pregnancy. Goodbye morning sickness! I have graduated to eating everything in sight. But I can't eat too much at once, because I still get full easily, just like before I got pregnant. So, I'm eating about every two hours. And when I'm not eating, I'm often thinking about food. Watching tv in the evening can get pretty bad because everything in the commercials looks good. Good thing I don't live within walking distance to any fast food places!
And as if that wasn't enough, the hormones have definitely kicked in mood-wise. I have road rage like you wouldn't believe and I can go from mild-mannered to cranky-pants in seconds. My co-workers already know that my sense of humour leans towards the darker side, but even I can't believe some of the stuff I have said. Of course I can't remember a specific example because I also have full-on baby brain. One day I didn't remember that I kissed my husband hello when he got home from work five minutes earlier!
But lest you think this pregnancy thing ain't all it's cracked up to be, let me tell you the delightful parts. One evening at work, we used the doppler to listen to the baby's hearbeat. It's sooooo cool to hear the "whoosh whoosh whoosh" I have heard so many times before and know it's my baby! There's this whole other being in there! And, I'm starting to show, so on my better days, I feel proud that I have this cute little belly (of course on my hormonal days, I just feel fat). I can't wait until my maternity clothes actually have a belly to fill them out (and people can tell I'm pregnant and not just spending too much time at the dessert table)!
So that's pretty much what's new here. I promise not to wait three weeks to post again. In fact, we're putting up our tree tomorrow night so that should be good for a funny entry. Later gator!
Firstly, my step-daughter had her baby. She had a girl, Ivy Danu, on November 25 at 1pm. Ivy weighed 6lb 8oz at birth but she now weighs more than 8lb! She's a good eater! And she's so cute. I just love her and I can't wait till I have my own little one. She was born with a lot of light brown hair (well, a lot for a newborn) and she's grown even more. I can't wait until she's old enough to smile and laugh. Grandma's got some tricks up her sleeve to make that baby giggle!
Secondly, I have finished the first trimester of my pregnancy. Goodbye morning sickness! I have graduated to eating everything in sight. But I can't eat too much at once, because I still get full easily, just like before I got pregnant. So, I'm eating about every two hours. And when I'm not eating, I'm often thinking about food. Watching tv in the evening can get pretty bad because everything in the commercials looks good. Good thing I don't live within walking distance to any fast food places!
And as if that wasn't enough, the hormones have definitely kicked in mood-wise. I have road rage like you wouldn't believe and I can go from mild-mannered to cranky-pants in seconds. My co-workers already know that my sense of humour leans towards the darker side, but even I can't believe some of the stuff I have said. Of course I can't remember a specific example because I also have full-on baby brain. One day I didn't remember that I kissed my husband hello when he got home from work five minutes earlier!
But lest you think this pregnancy thing ain't all it's cracked up to be, let me tell you the delightful parts. One evening at work, we used the doppler to listen to the baby's hearbeat. It's sooooo cool to hear the "whoosh whoosh whoosh" I have heard so many times before and know it's my baby! There's this whole other being in there! And, I'm starting to show, so on my better days, I feel proud that I have this cute little belly (of course on my hormonal days, I just feel fat). I can't wait until my maternity clothes actually have a belly to fill them out (and people can tell I'm pregnant and not just spending too much time at the dessert table)!
So that's pretty much what's new here. I promise not to wait three weeks to post again. In fact, we're putting up our tree tomorrow night so that should be good for a funny entry. Later gator!
Tuesday, November 21, 2006
The Worst and Best Day
Before I start, I want to say that everything with the baby is fine. This is so my relatives and friends don't freak out when they read my story.
Yesterday morning started out bad. I woke up and I was bleeding. Not a lot, but it was pretty bright, and there was some mild cramping. I didn't call the doctor right away because my appointment with her was in a hour anyway, but I was concerned. I had spotted a bit during my pregnancy so far, but it was minimal, with no cramping so far. It didn't help that I read in my pregnancy book about molar pregnancies. These are pregnancies where an empty egg is fertilized. All the other tissue is there, but it grows abnormally. So the woman feels pregnant, but no baby. It is rare, but I know a woman who had one. The two main symptoms are bleeding and cramping. So, I immediately started to worry that this was what I had.
Just before I left, my husband called from the doctor's office. The appointment was for 10:30 but he was there at 10. I told him I would be there soon. On the way to the office, I tried to talk logically with myself. I really had no indication that there was anything wrong except for this morning. By the time I left the house, the spotting and cramping had stopped. But there was still this nasty little voice in my head saying maybe there's something wrong. I tried to shut it up by thinking, when I have my appointment I'll hear the baby's heartbeat and everything will be okay. Then just as I was starting to look for parking, I got a call from the doctor's office. Apparently my appointment was for 10:15, so I was now late. I pulled into the first parking spot I could find and ran to the office.
When I got there, the usual office visit stuff was done. My urine was checked for sugars and protein (no worries there) and I was weighed (I gained about 2.5 lb). Then the doctor did a breast exam and got the doppler. I was nervous and excited and anxious. The doctor spent what felt like forever looking for the heartbeat. She said it is hard to find because it's still early. I tried to relax while the doctor kept moving the doppler around my lower abdomen. The longer I waited the more frightened I became. Finally, the doctor gave up. No heartbeat. I have never been so disappointed in my life. It felt like every fear I've had about my pregnancy was just confirmed. The doctor told me I could have an ultrasound today, since I was spotting, just to see what was going on. I agreed and immediately burst into tears. Even now, remembering how scared I was makes me feel like crying again. I can't even describe how bad I felt. I was still crying when I got dressed and went to the waiting room to get my ultrasound appointment. I know that John felt bad for me and was frightened too, probably as much about my reaction as the baby. I could not stop crying. After a few minutes, I got an appointment for 2:45 that afternoon.
John had to drive to his store and do some stuff, but he promised to meet me at the ultrasound lab. Then I called my mom on her cell phone. I should have waited till I got to my car because I couldn't hear her, and she couldn't hear me, and I was trying to explain what was wrong as I was crying, and it was just a big mess. Anyway, we managed to arrange to meet at my house. I barely remember the drive home except I was thinking that if there was something wrong with the baby, I would hate the Justin Timberlake CD that was currently playing in the car.
So Mom came over and she was so reassuring and let me tell her what I was thinking and part of why I was so scared of miscarrying (just before I found out I was pregnant, one of my co-workers miscarried for the second time in a row). Then she blessedly distracted me with gossip and talk of better stuff. We had a lovely lunch, and she kept me company until I had to leave for my appointment. Just before I left, I started to feel better. I started to think how cool it would be to see my little Peanut, if there was one. I even said to the baby, "Time for your big debut!"
I got to the appointment a bit early, and my bladder was absolutely bursting. You have to drink a litre of water an hour before the appointment and you're not allowed to pee. I was nervous when my name was called because John wasn't there yet. The technician assured me that he would be directed to the right room.
The tech confirmed my information and then asked about why I was having the ultrasound. I told her about the spotting and cramping and no heartbeat. Her immediate response was, "Is this your first pregancy?" I laughed and said yes, that's why I was so paranoid. John still wasn't there, but I thought here it goes. I mentally steeled myself to see what looks like snow on the TV, since that is supposedly what a molar pregnancy looks like. And, no snow! Just a beautiful little peanut, waving its arms and legs around! It was absolutely fascinating; I could have watched that screen all day long. Right in the middle of the baby was a little area fluttering just like "butterfly wings in light" as my stepdad described later. The tech explained that the fluttering was the baby's heart. Just then John came in. I excitedly told him everything was okay. The tech took some measurements, including the fetal heart rate (167, normal), and length (3.5 cm). She told me the baby was in the right place in the uterus and it all looked good. Then she gave me my first baby pictures! As soon as the ultrasound was done (and I gratefully emptied my bladder) I called my parents and told them the good news. I was positively giddy with happiness. I could not stop smiling.
So now I have one less thing to worry about this pregnancy, although I know it won't be the last. I also know it won't be the first time the baby worries me so much I'm crying. But that's the joy of parenthood, I guess. Today, I feel a bit silly for freaking out so much, but I'd much rather feel a bit sheepish than spend the next week or two afraid of the worst and not knowing. And as John points out, we got baby pictures out of the ordeal. So one of the worst days I've ever had turned out to be one of the best.
Yesterday morning started out bad. I woke up and I was bleeding. Not a lot, but it was pretty bright, and there was some mild cramping. I didn't call the doctor right away because my appointment with her was in a hour anyway, but I was concerned. I had spotted a bit during my pregnancy so far, but it was minimal, with no cramping so far. It didn't help that I read in my pregnancy book about molar pregnancies. These are pregnancies where an empty egg is fertilized. All the other tissue is there, but it grows abnormally. So the woman feels pregnant, but no baby. It is rare, but I know a woman who had one. The two main symptoms are bleeding and cramping. So, I immediately started to worry that this was what I had.
Just before I left, my husband called from the doctor's office. The appointment was for 10:30 but he was there at 10. I told him I would be there soon. On the way to the office, I tried to talk logically with myself. I really had no indication that there was anything wrong except for this morning. By the time I left the house, the spotting and cramping had stopped. But there was still this nasty little voice in my head saying maybe there's something wrong. I tried to shut it up by thinking, when I have my appointment I'll hear the baby's heartbeat and everything will be okay. Then just as I was starting to look for parking, I got a call from the doctor's office. Apparently my appointment was for 10:15, so I was now late. I pulled into the first parking spot I could find and ran to the office.
When I got there, the usual office visit stuff was done. My urine was checked for sugars and protein (no worries there) and I was weighed (I gained about 2.5 lb). Then the doctor did a breast exam and got the doppler. I was nervous and excited and anxious. The doctor spent what felt like forever looking for the heartbeat. She said it is hard to find because it's still early. I tried to relax while the doctor kept moving the doppler around my lower abdomen. The longer I waited the more frightened I became. Finally, the doctor gave up. No heartbeat. I have never been so disappointed in my life. It felt like every fear I've had about my pregnancy was just confirmed. The doctor told me I could have an ultrasound today, since I was spotting, just to see what was going on. I agreed and immediately burst into tears. Even now, remembering how scared I was makes me feel like crying again. I can't even describe how bad I felt. I was still crying when I got dressed and went to the waiting room to get my ultrasound appointment. I know that John felt bad for me and was frightened too, probably as much about my reaction as the baby. I could not stop crying. After a few minutes, I got an appointment for 2:45 that afternoon.
John had to drive to his store and do some stuff, but he promised to meet me at the ultrasound lab. Then I called my mom on her cell phone. I should have waited till I got to my car because I couldn't hear her, and she couldn't hear me, and I was trying to explain what was wrong as I was crying, and it was just a big mess. Anyway, we managed to arrange to meet at my house. I barely remember the drive home except I was thinking that if there was something wrong with the baby, I would hate the Justin Timberlake CD that was currently playing in the car.
So Mom came over and she was so reassuring and let me tell her what I was thinking and part of why I was so scared of miscarrying (just before I found out I was pregnant, one of my co-workers miscarried for the second time in a row). Then she blessedly distracted me with gossip and talk of better stuff. We had a lovely lunch, and she kept me company until I had to leave for my appointment. Just before I left, I started to feel better. I started to think how cool it would be to see my little Peanut, if there was one. I even said to the baby, "Time for your big debut!"
I got to the appointment a bit early, and my bladder was absolutely bursting. You have to drink a litre of water an hour before the appointment and you're not allowed to pee. I was nervous when my name was called because John wasn't there yet. The technician assured me that he would be directed to the right room.
The tech confirmed my information and then asked about why I was having the ultrasound. I told her about the spotting and cramping and no heartbeat. Her immediate response was, "Is this your first pregancy?" I laughed and said yes, that's why I was so paranoid. John still wasn't there, but I thought here it goes. I mentally steeled myself to see what looks like snow on the TV, since that is supposedly what a molar pregnancy looks like. And, no snow! Just a beautiful little peanut, waving its arms and legs around! It was absolutely fascinating; I could have watched that screen all day long. Right in the middle of the baby was a little area fluttering just like "butterfly wings in light" as my stepdad described later. The tech explained that the fluttering was the baby's heart. Just then John came in. I excitedly told him everything was okay. The tech took some measurements, including the fetal heart rate (167, normal), and length (3.5 cm). She told me the baby was in the right place in the uterus and it all looked good. Then she gave me my first baby pictures! As soon as the ultrasound was done (and I gratefully emptied my bladder) I called my parents and told them the good news. I was positively giddy with happiness. I could not stop smiling.
So now I have one less thing to worry about this pregnancy, although I know it won't be the last. I also know it won't be the first time the baby worries me so much I'm crying. But that's the joy of parenthood, I guess. Today, I feel a bit silly for freaking out so much, but I'd much rather feel a bit sheepish than spend the next week or two afraid of the worst and not knowing. And as John points out, we got baby pictures out of the ordeal. So one of the worst days I've ever had turned out to be one of the best.
Friday, November 10, 2006
Sympathy Nausea
My husband just called to find out if I was feeling nauseated this morning. He said that he's been feeling queasy in the late morning and early afternoon lately. I actually read about partners of pregnant women experiencing similar symptoms, and it looks like that's happening to my hubby. It's funny but really sweet too. My poor honey! If you're reading this, I'm sorry both of us have to be nauseated, but it's kind of nice to know you understand. I love you.
Monday, November 06, 2006
Milestones
I just realized that in two weeks three momentous things will occur:
1. My step-daughter will have her baby, making me a GRANDMOTHER.
2. I have my first prenatal physical, where I will hear my baby's heartbeat for the first time.
3. I will have my Nintendo Wii.
I have also realized that this is my tenth post. Wow. There must be something going on in the universe.
1. My step-daughter will have her baby, making me a GRANDMOTHER.
2. I have my first prenatal physical, where I will hear my baby's heartbeat for the first time.
3. I will have my Nintendo Wii.
I have also realized that this is my tenth post. Wow. There must be something going on in the universe.
Saturday, November 04, 2006
Not for sissies!
Okay, I admit it. I really thought this whole pregnancy thing would be a breeze. I thought that I would be so excited to finally be pregnant after about 2 years of trying that every day would be a delight. I was arrogant (and foolish) enough to believe that I would be above the mind-numbing fatigue everyone else had because I was fit before I got pregnant. I would still do pilates through my first trimester, and then move on to prenatal yoga. Because I did not get morning sickness right away, I thought I was magically immune. Surely I would be able to eat everything I needed to in order to be healthy; I woulnd't be reduced to eating one thing everyday because it was the only thing I could tolerate. Boy was I wrong!
Before I was pregnant, I almost always stayed up until 1am. I work evenings, so I usually get home around 11:15pm. I only have to get up before 10am if I have an appointment of some sort. So, my pre-pregnancy routine was to come home from work, get ready for bed, and watch TV or read until around 1, and then sleep in until 10am or so. Now, I'm lucky if I can stay up until midnight, and I get up at least twice in the night (more about that later). On the nights I don't work, I can barely stay up until 11:30 to watch "The Daily Show." I still get up at around 10am. And I'm still tired all day. A book I read likened it to being on nighttime cold medication, and that's an accurate analogy. For much of the day, I feel like I've had a big dose of NyQuil (for more on how this makes you feel, read my sister's blog). And exercise? Are you kidding? Walking up a flight of stairs makes me winded. I've never felt so out-of shape in my life.
And then there's the nausea. The closest thing I can compare it to is when I would get motion sick if I read on the bus. Most of the time, it's not so bad that I have to stay in bed, but it makes me feel uneasy because, every so often, my stomach gives a lurch that makes me consider how far it is to the nearest bathroom. Of course the really bizarre thing is feeling nauseated and HUNGRY at the same time. This is not a "oh yeah, I could eat something" kind of hunger. It is the "if I don't eat something right now, someone will be hurt" kind. And there is absolutely no middle ground. I'm either not even remotely interested in food, or I'm ravenous. But because I'm also somewhat queasy, there is often only a couple of things at the time that are appealing. I thought my friend Sandy was silly because in the early months of her pregnancy, all she ate were cheese sandwiches. Now I understand the appeal, because grilled cheese sandwiches have become my saviour. And ginger ale.
Now, I know that I sound like a great big whiner, especially if you've never experienced the miracle of pregnancy. But lest you think this is one big rant, let me tell you about the greatest invention ever: anti-nausea bands.
These little wristbands have a plastic button on them that fits over the NEI-KUAN point on each wrist. This is an accupressure point that reduces nausea, and boy does it work. The first day I wore them, I had absolutely no nausea. I was even able to eat chocolate, which I have been unable to even contemplate before. Yesterday I thought they weren't working because I was still nauseated, but when I took them off, my queasiness went from "mild" to "severe". So, basically they aren't miracle workers. But they allow me to function, so as far as I'm concerned, they're money well spent.
So, I've been humbled by pregnancy, but I've found ways to survive. And I AM really excited and happy to be having a baby. Thanks for reading my whining, and if anyone has any advice or comments, feel free. I'm off to make a grilled cheese sandwich.
Before I was pregnant, I almost always stayed up until 1am. I work evenings, so I usually get home around 11:15pm. I only have to get up before 10am if I have an appointment of some sort. So, my pre-pregnancy routine was to come home from work, get ready for bed, and watch TV or read until around 1, and then sleep in until 10am or so. Now, I'm lucky if I can stay up until midnight, and I get up at least twice in the night (more about that later). On the nights I don't work, I can barely stay up until 11:30 to watch "The Daily Show." I still get up at around 10am. And I'm still tired all day. A book I read likened it to being on nighttime cold medication, and that's an accurate analogy. For much of the day, I feel like I've had a big dose of NyQuil (for more on how this makes you feel, read my sister's blog). And exercise? Are you kidding? Walking up a flight of stairs makes me winded. I've never felt so out-of shape in my life.
And then there's the nausea. The closest thing I can compare it to is when I would get motion sick if I read on the bus. Most of the time, it's not so bad that I have to stay in bed, but it makes me feel uneasy because, every so often, my stomach gives a lurch that makes me consider how far it is to the nearest bathroom. Of course the really bizarre thing is feeling nauseated and HUNGRY at the same time. This is not a "oh yeah, I could eat something" kind of hunger. It is the "if I don't eat something right now, someone will be hurt" kind. And there is absolutely no middle ground. I'm either not even remotely interested in food, or I'm ravenous. But because I'm also somewhat queasy, there is often only a couple of things at the time that are appealing. I thought my friend Sandy was silly because in the early months of her pregnancy, all she ate were cheese sandwiches. Now I understand the appeal, because grilled cheese sandwiches have become my saviour. And ginger ale.
Now, I know that I sound like a great big whiner, especially if you've never experienced the miracle of pregnancy. But lest you think this is one big rant, let me tell you about the greatest invention ever: anti-nausea bands.
These little wristbands have a plastic button on them that fits over the NEI-KUAN point on each wrist. This is an accupressure point that reduces nausea, and boy does it work. The first day I wore them, I had absolutely no nausea. I was even able to eat chocolate, which I have been unable to even contemplate before. Yesterday I thought they weren't working because I was still nauseated, but when I took them off, my queasiness went from "mild" to "severe". So, basically they aren't miracle workers. But they allow me to function, so as far as I'm concerned, they're money well spent.
So, I've been humbled by pregnancy, but I've found ways to survive. And I AM really excited and happy to be having a baby. Thanks for reading my whining, and if anyone has any advice or comments, feel free. I'm off to make a grilled cheese sandwich.
Tuesday, October 31, 2006
Vancouver Island Mommy!
For the 5 or so of you who have read my blog, you may have noticed that I haven't posted in a couple of weeks. That's because I have big news, and I didn't want my friends and family to read about it on a blog before I got to tell them in person. Of course that news is that I'm pregnant!
Of course, I'm not that far along yet; I'm seven weeks and three days, so I'm not even showing. But, I'm really excited. That is, when I'm not nauseated and half-asleep. So, since the cat is out of the bag, I though I'd share my most embarassing (and funny) story so far. It takes place on my birthday, which also happened to be the day for my first prenatal doctor's appointment. I brought my sister-in-law with me, and I thought I would have a physical, but it was just a consultation. No biggie, since having a pap smear is not my idea of a fun birthday activity. Of course, the first thing I was required to do when I arrived was pee in a cup. This was absolutely no problem, since I seem to have to urinate pretty frequently these days. I had my meeting with the doctor and then we met my brother and nephew for lunch.
After lunch, I had to go to the lab for my first set of prenatal blood work. The lab tech seemed to be having a bad day. She was positively grumpy when I arrived. Oh, did I forget to mention the fiasco with my last name? I changed my name after I was married, but in my laziness, did not immediatly change all my ID. In fact, I put off changing my last name on my medical because my medical was being paid by my employer, and I figured they would change it. So, when I got to the doctor's, they still had me under my old last name and I didn't know which name BC Medical had. Anyway, I think they found that it was under my new last name, because the requisitions for the lab work were also under my new last name. The problem is that my care card still has my old last name because it costs $10 to get a new card, and I'm cheap as well as lazy. So, to finally tie this in with the lab tech, she initially printed the labels for my blood work using my old last name. Then she realized that everything else was printed with my new name. I don't think I've heard such an exasperated sigh in a very long time. I just knew she wondered if I was doing this on purpose to ruin her already bad day.
Anyway, after she took like six vials of my blood, she handed me yet another container for a urine sample. I didn't feel like I had to pee, but I've never had a problem before. So imagine my utter dismay and embarassment to find I COULDN'T PEE. I must have sat in that bathroom for 20 minutes with the water running, trying desperately for something, anything to come. But it seemed the more I wanted it to, the less I had to. Finally, to my mortification, the tech knocked on the door to ask if I was okay. I had to tell her I couldn't pee. She suggested I drink a couple of glasses of water to see if that helped. So here I was in the waiting room of the lab, drinking huge glasses of too-cold water and willing my bladder to fill. I had had a large lunch as well, so the more I drank the more bloated and nauseated I started to feel. I began to wonder if I was even pregnant, because I had read that pregnant women pee a lot. Surely, if I was REALLY pregnant, I would have no difficulty. Add to that the fact that my doctor did not do another pregnancy test earlier, and I wondered if I had just imagined it all.
Finally, I could not drink any more water, and the lab was due to close in ten minutes. I crept into the bathroom to try again. You'd think after 3 huge glasses of water, I'd have no problem, right? Wrong. I barely got enough for a decent sample (insert image of urine sample here; I couldn't upload one to my blog). Of course, once I left the lab, I had to pee every hour or so because of all the water I drank. The Goddess has one SICK sense of humour.
Anyway, it's been a week now, and I haven't had anything else that embarrassing happen so far. Of course, as my pregnancy progresses, I'm sure there will be new depths of indignity and humilation to explore. And I'll be sure to share them with you all.
Monday, October 16, 2006
More Wii!
I'm officially a video game junkie. Despite the fact that i have THE FLU, I got up this morning at 7 am, drove to the local mall, and waited outside the EB Games to pre-order my Nintendo Wii. I got there just before 8 am, and there was already a good line-up. In fact, there were two lines, one for the Wii, and one for the Playstation 3. The scary thing I noticed about the Wii line was that, except for a mother waiting with her son, I was the only female. I was also probably the oldest person in line, again except for the mother. However, we all had one thing in common: we were gamers, and that transcends age and gender. Not once did I feel like, "What am I doing here?" After all, we nerds need to stick together. 
Armed with my new Nintendo DS, I sat down on the cold mall floor to wait. One of the guys in line said he heard that the EB Games would open at 8:30 to do the pre-orders. I felt like I got here just in time, especially since I figured they would only have 10-12 pre-orders available. I was lucky number 8, so I was confident that I was in. At around 9 am, the EB Games guy arrived. He came out a few minutes later and said, "Do you want the good news first?" One guy actually said, "No, give us the bad news first so we have something to look forward to!" Anyway, the good news was that there were, in fact, 12 pre-orders for the Wii. The bad news was that there were only 5 pre-orders for the PS3. Sadly, the PS3 line-up was longer than that for the Wii, and the first couple of people were carrying SLEEPING BAGS. Needless to say, there were some unhappy campers in PS3 land.
By far the funniest part of the whole pre-order experience was the organization. Firstly, the customers were only allowed in the store two-at-a-time, one from each line. The employees lifted the gate (using their magical key), ushered the lucky two inside, and then lowered the gate again. Secondly, there was a mall security guard present the whole time. I guess there was some concern that we would get unruly and start duking it out in the middle of the line-up, or we would rush into the store and shove our way to the front. Or maybe those unlucky bastards in the PS3 line would cause a riot and loot the store. In any case, anyone who lives on the Island knows that we are WAAAAAY to laid back for that.
So, after waiting for an hour and a half, I was the proud owner of a Wii pre-order. Those who read my previous post about the Wii will not be surprised to learn I also ordered the "Twilight Princess" game. To the average person (and those giving us strange looks in the mall), I waited for an hour and a half and paid $200 for a piece of paper. But to me, I bought my ticket to join the few who would have a Wii on launch day (provided that there are no shipping problems). Cheers!
Saturday, October 14, 2006
The Party Curse
I'm beginning to wonder if our house is cursed for parties. Last year, we held Thanksgiving at our place. That same day, my brother and his girlfriend broke up, so needless to say, they did not attend. My sister had to go back to school, so she only stayed for about an hour, and my mom had to leave to drop her off. My stepdad was working so he came late, and, to top it all off, my husband had a hissy fit. One of my friends, whom I invited since she had no plans, brought her ex-boyfriend who DID NOT get along with my husband. He was pissed that this guy was here and when someone knocked over one if his things, he totally blew up. Luckily, he waited until after dinner, but the party was pretty much over after that.
Then, this summer, I threw a party for my husband's birthday, and nobody showed up except for my parents. My friend from work completely forgot until the next morning, and my other friend and her husband had to work. The couple of friends that my husband managed to remember to invite had something they couldn't get out of, but he forgot to tell me until that night. And, another couple of friends got the day wrong and showed up the next day, only to find nobody home! I visited with my parents and felt like crying. My husband, who apparently didn't really want a party anyway but didn't say anything, played video games on his computer.
The third curse was my step-daughter's baby shower. The first problem was the time. I left the date and time up to her, and she picked Friday the 13th (I know, I know, tempting fate) at 2pm. Imagine my surprise when 2:30 came and went and no guest of honour. I called her at work (it was her last day), when she informed me that she thought the shower started at 5pm, and that's what she told her friends. I had told everyone the shower started at 2... Of course, that proved to be a minor detail, since the second problem was a distinct lack of attendees. I invited a few friends of the family (who didn't show up), and I left it to my step-daughter to invite whichever friends she wanted. She ended up inviting four people, and only one of them was here. One wanted to go drinking with her boyfriend instead, one had to work, and one had a horrible day and didn't want to bring everyone else down. Once, again it was mostly my family who was present.
So now I'm wary about throwing any more parties. We're thinking about having Yule dinner at our place, but who knows if anyone will come? Then again, maybe bad things come in threes, so maybe the curse is lifted. What I do know is that I'll leave the invitations to me.
Then, this summer, I threw a party for my husband's birthday, and nobody showed up except for my parents. My friend from work completely forgot until the next morning, and my other friend and her husband had to work. The couple of friends that my husband managed to remember to invite had something they couldn't get out of, but he forgot to tell me until that night. And, another couple of friends got the day wrong and showed up the next day, only to find nobody home! I visited with my parents and felt like crying. My husband, who apparently didn't really want a party anyway but didn't say anything, played video games on his computer.
The third curse was my step-daughter's baby shower. The first problem was the time. I left the date and time up to her, and she picked Friday the 13th (I know, I know, tempting fate) at 2pm. Imagine my surprise when 2:30 came and went and no guest of honour. I called her at work (it was her last day), when she informed me that she thought the shower started at 5pm, and that's what she told her friends. I had told everyone the shower started at 2... Of course, that proved to be a minor detail, since the second problem was a distinct lack of attendees. I invited a few friends of the family (who didn't show up), and I left it to my step-daughter to invite whichever friends she wanted. She ended up inviting four people, and only one of them was here. One wanted to go drinking with her boyfriend instead, one had to work, and one had a horrible day and didn't want to bring everyone else down. Once, again it was mostly my family who was present.
So now I'm wary about throwing any more parties. We're thinking about having Yule dinner at our place, but who knows if anyone will come? Then again, maybe bad things come in threes, so maybe the curse is lifted. What I do know is that I'll leave the invitations to me.
Wednesday, October 11, 2006
Wii, Wii, Wii
I have a confession to make: I'm dying for the Nintendo Wii to come out. It'll be released on November 19, and I'm trying my darndest to pre-order it. I check the Future Shop website every morning to see if they're taking pre-orders. In fact, I've checked my work schedule to make sure I have a couple of days off, just to play with my Wii (sorry, couldn't resist).
Happily, the Wii comes with a game, Wii Sports, which should be a good way to get used to the motion sensor system. With this system, I'll be able to hit a baseball by swinging my arm like I'm holding a bat. Of course, what I'm REALLY waiting for is the chance to play "Legend of Zelda: Twilight Princess," which was supposed to come out for the Gamecube last Christmas.
Just thinking about playing this game makes me do a little happy dance as I sit on my fitness ball. So, just as a warning to all my family and friends, don't expect to see much of me after November 19. I'll be surgically attached to my game-playing chair, with my arm swinging madly about and cursing up a storm (but only if the game is really challenging!). Ooh, I can't wait!
Saturday, October 07, 2006
More Kayaking and Foie Gras
So kayaking was a total blast. My shoulders, especially the trapezius muscles are really sore, and I'm sure they'll be worse tomorrow. Ladies, you will know what I mean when I say it feels like my bra straps are too tight. It feels as if the muscles are being pulled down by something. But, it was a beautiful day, sunny but not too warm. I got the biggest kayak; it was bright red, and it was the only one we took out with a rudder. I actually only used the rudder for a little while, since I found it easier to turn without it. Basically, to turn, you paddle on the opposite side and lean in to the same side you want to turn, making sure you don't lose your balance.
By the time we got back to the dock, my jeans were absolutely soaked. It was like I was wearing wet chaps, since the very top of my jeans and the butt were still dry. My companions were also damp, although they all had the good sense to wear less absorbent pants. We went to the nearest bar/restaurant and had a beer, wet clothes and all. All in all, a pleasant afternoon, and one new experience for me.
On another subject, I just looked up what "foie gras" was, since I didn't know. I was watching "Take Home Chef" on TLC, and Curtis made a gourmet burger with foie gras, and I was intrigued. My high-school French indicated that "gras" meant "fat" and I was sure it was something to do with ducks or geese. I found out that "foie gras" is fattened duck or goose liver, so I wasn't too far off.
By the time we got back to the dock, my jeans were absolutely soaked. It was like I was wearing wet chaps, since the very top of my jeans and the butt were still dry. My companions were also damp, although they all had the good sense to wear less absorbent pants. We went to the nearest bar/restaurant and had a beer, wet clothes and all. All in all, a pleasant afternoon, and one new experience for me.
On another subject, I just looked up what "foie gras" was, since I didn't know. I was watching "Take Home Chef" on TLC, and Curtis made a gourmet burger with foie gras, and I was intrigued. My high-school French indicated that "gras" meant "fat" and I was sure it was something to do with ducks or geese. I found out that "foie gras" is fattened duck or goose liver, so I wasn't too far off.
Turns out when I read more about it, I was really grossed out by it, and have absolutely no desire to try it anymore. In order to fatten the livers, the animals are force-fed a high-starch diet for the last couple of weeks of their lives. There is even a term for it: gavage. The feed is actually administered through a tube directly into the esophagus. Now, I'm no stranger to tube feeding, but last time I checked we didn't put 4 times the normal caloric intake into people through feeding tubes.
I know that some readers (if I have any) will point out that lots of animal cruelty occurs in the name of food, and that I am far from a vegetarian. But, I do try to take a selective approach in picking what meat I eat and what I avoid. For instance, I do not eat lamb, or deer or rabbit (or any other "cute" animals). I also will not eat any baby animals, especially veal, since I know that they do some pretty mean things to make it tender, like prevent the animals from even walking during their short lives. I will now step off my soapbox.
Kayaking
Okay, so I finally figured out how to put pictures on my posts, so they're not just a monotony of words. But, I couldn't get a picture to go with my first post (sigh!).
Today I'm going kayaking for the very first time. I'm a bit nervous that I will make a complete idiot of myself. I really hope I dont' capsize the boat.
Today I'm going kayaking for the very first time. I'm a bit nervous that I will make a complete idiot of myself. I really hope I dont' capsize the boat.
I'll do a post later today when I get back and I'll report on my experience.
P.S. I already got my driver's license. The picture isn't too bad...
Friday, October 06, 2006
Poor Kitty!
About a couple of weeks ago, I took my cat, Asia, to the vet's because I thought she was diabetic. My mom and best friend both have diabetic cats, and Asia was showing similar signs that their cats did when they were diagnosed: drinking lots of water, using the litter box a lot and losing weight. Imagine my surprise to find out, after a urinalysis and blood work, that my cat actually has kidney disease. From what I read on the internet, kidney disease is very common in older cats - Asia is 13- and it's treatable. Vets don't have dialysis machines for kitties, so they use diuresis, giving lots of fluids to encourage lots of peeing, to help flush toxins from the body.
The next week, Asia spent two days at the vet's getting IV fluids to kick start her kidneys. Then, because her teeth needed a cleaning, she was to have that done after the IV fluids. Driving Asia to vet, I had a horrible feeling like I wouldn't be bringing her home again. It was all I could do to not burst into tears. During those two days, I jumped every time the phone rang, dreading the vet calling with more bad news. The ball finally dropped on the day she was to have her teeth done. The vet called because, while prepping Asia for surgery, she noticed that my girl's heart rate was higher than normal, and she detected a murmur that wasn't there before. She put the surgery on hold and did pulse oximetry (to check the amount of oxygen reaching the tissues) and chest x-ray. Now on top of everything else, Asia had pulmonary edema (fluid in the lungs), probably because her circulatory system could not handle the IV fluids. The surgery was cancelled and I brought Asia home, to go for a follow-up exam the next week.
Well, I'm cautiously happy to report that Asia is better. Her follow-up chest x-ray, which the vet showed me, showed clearer lungs. Her blood work was better. And I had a new job to do at home: subcutaneous fluid administration. Seems I can't escape from my vocation, even when it comes to my pets. Every day, presumably for the rest of Asia's life, I insert an 18 gauge (big!) needle into the scruff of the neck, and let 100ml of Ringer's Lactate run in. It looks kinda strange because a lump forms where the fluid goes in, and then as Asia walks around, gravity sets in and the fluid settles in the upper arms, usually more on one side than the other. So, until the fluid is absorbed, my poor kitty's upper arm, which is twice the size of the other, flops back and forth as she moves!
So, my home now screams, "A nurse lives here!" I have an IV pole in my living room, with a bag of ringer's, all set up, hanging from it. I also have a moral dilemma: how much of the equipment should I pay for and how much should I steal from work? The needles I have to use aren't available at work, so I'll have to buy those. But if I buy the bags of fluid from the vet's they're nearly $7 each, while the hospital pays only $1.21 each (of course, if I steal them I will be paying $0). The tubing is also more expensive at the vet's. Then there's the issue about what to do with the used needles. It would be so much easier to snag a sharps container and then return it when it's full...
Tell me what you think: should I steal this stuff, or suck it up and pay for it?
The next week, Asia spent two days at the vet's getting IV fluids to kick start her kidneys. Then, because her teeth needed a cleaning, she was to have that done after the IV fluids. Driving Asia to vet, I had a horrible feeling like I wouldn't be bringing her home again. It was all I could do to not burst into tears. During those two days, I jumped every time the phone rang, dreading the vet calling with more bad news. The ball finally dropped on the day she was to have her teeth done. The vet called because, while prepping Asia for surgery, she noticed that my girl's heart rate was higher than normal, and she detected a murmur that wasn't there before. She put the surgery on hold and did pulse oximetry (to check the amount of oxygen reaching the tissues) and chest x-ray. Now on top of everything else, Asia had pulmonary edema (fluid in the lungs), probably because her circulatory system could not handle the IV fluids. The surgery was cancelled and I brought Asia home, to go for a follow-up exam the next week.
Well, I'm cautiously happy to report that Asia is better. Her follow-up chest x-ray, which the vet showed me, showed clearer lungs. Her blood work was better. And I had a new job to do at home: subcutaneous fluid administration. Seems I can't escape from my vocation, even when it comes to my pets. Every day, presumably for the rest of Asia's life, I insert an 18 gauge (big!) needle into the scruff of the neck, and let 100ml of Ringer's Lactate run in. It looks kinda strange because a lump forms where the fluid goes in, and then as Asia walks around, gravity sets in and the fluid settles in the upper arms, usually more on one side than the other. So, until the fluid is absorbed, my poor kitty's upper arm, which is twice the size of the other, flops back and forth as she moves!
So, my home now screams, "A nurse lives here!" I have an IV pole in my living room, with a bag of ringer's, all set up, hanging from it. I also have a moral dilemma: how much of the equipment should I pay for and how much should I steal from work? The needles I have to use aren't available at work, so I'll have to buy those. But if I buy the bags of fluid from the vet's they're nearly $7 each, while the hospital pays only $1.21 each (of course, if I steal them I will be paying $0). The tubing is also more expensive at the vet's. Then there's the issue about what to do with the used needles. It would be so much easier to snag a sharps container and then return it when it's full...Tell me what you think: should I steal this stuff, or suck it up and pay for it?
Wednesday, October 04, 2006
Beginnings and Renewals
So I'm beginning a brand spanking new blog, inspired by my sister, who has an unnatural gift for reporting on the everyday with wit and insight. Hope to follow in her footsteps...
Anyway, as the name implies, I am a nurse at a largish hospital on Vancouver Island. Due to confidentiality, I cannot reveal my name or the name of the hospital, especially since I anticipate bitching repeatedly about some of the patients I may have. If you are a close relative, or worse, a co-worker, I hope you will respect my request to help maintain this confidentiality. This does not mean you should not post a comment; by all means, please let me know what you think, even if it's "you suck!" Just keep it general.
I thought I would start my blog with the funniest story I have this week. I went to ICBC to renew my driver's license, as I haven't obtained a new license since I was married almost a year and a half ago. For all those gasping in horror, I have to confess that my only excuses were sheer laziness, coupled with a lack of enthusiasm for obtaining a bad picture that nobody would see, since I have long passed the age where I get ID'd at the liquor store. But I digress...
I showed up at the Driver Services Centre, after careful makeup and wardrobe planning. I was worried about a particularly large blemish on the left side of my face, but I reasoned that the license picture is usually sketchy enough that it might not even show. I walked up to the counter, produced my old license, my marriage certificate, and even my passport, and crossed my fingers that the woman behind the counter wouldn't ask, "Why did you wait so long to get your license renewed?" Instead, she informed me that my license had been cancelled A YEAR AGO. Apparently, because I had a class 4 license, and not the standard class 5 license, I was required to have a medical exam every few years. ICBC had sent a reminder to the address on my license (about 4 years old itself), and, after hearing nothing from yours truly, cancelled the license.
I was too stunned at the time to ponder how the hell I was able to PURCHASE A BRAND NEW CAR without a valid license; instead I wondered whether I was going to jail for driving for a year license-free and how many hundred of dollars it would cost to get a new license. Turns out that it was actually cheaper to get my new license, since I only get it for two years instead of the usual five. The woman was surprisingly nice about the whole incident, and we even had a laugh about the fact that I must be a good driver, since most people find out their license expired when they get pulled over.
So, I am now the proud owner of a yellow sheet of paper saying I have a class 5 license (no medical exams, please), and I get to wait for that happy day when I get my new plastic license in the mail. The day when I get to say, incredulously, "Oh crap, is that what I look like?" I can't wait.
Anyway, as the name implies, I am a nurse at a largish hospital on Vancouver Island. Due to confidentiality, I cannot reveal my name or the name of the hospital, especially since I anticipate bitching repeatedly about some of the patients I may have. If you are a close relative, or worse, a co-worker, I hope you will respect my request to help maintain this confidentiality. This does not mean you should not post a comment; by all means, please let me know what you think, even if it's "you suck!" Just keep it general.
I thought I would start my blog with the funniest story I have this week. I went to ICBC to renew my driver's license, as I haven't obtained a new license since I was married almost a year and a half ago. For all those gasping in horror, I have to confess that my only excuses were sheer laziness, coupled with a lack of enthusiasm for obtaining a bad picture that nobody would see, since I have long passed the age where I get ID'd at the liquor store. But I digress...
I showed up at the Driver Services Centre, after careful makeup and wardrobe planning. I was worried about a particularly large blemish on the left side of my face, but I reasoned that the license picture is usually sketchy enough that it might not even show. I walked up to the counter, produced my old license, my marriage certificate, and even my passport, and crossed my fingers that the woman behind the counter wouldn't ask, "Why did you wait so long to get your license renewed?" Instead, she informed me that my license had been cancelled A YEAR AGO. Apparently, because I had a class 4 license, and not the standard class 5 license, I was required to have a medical exam every few years. ICBC had sent a reminder to the address on my license (about 4 years old itself), and, after hearing nothing from yours truly, cancelled the license.
I was too stunned at the time to ponder how the hell I was able to PURCHASE A BRAND NEW CAR without a valid license; instead I wondered whether I was going to jail for driving for a year license-free and how many hundred of dollars it would cost to get a new license. Turns out that it was actually cheaper to get my new license, since I only get it for two years instead of the usual five. The woman was surprisingly nice about the whole incident, and we even had a laugh about the fact that I must be a good driver, since most people find out their license expired when they get pulled over.
So, I am now the proud owner of a yellow sheet of paper saying I have a class 5 license (no medical exams, please), and I get to wait for that happy day when I get my new plastic license in the mail. The day when I get to say, incredulously, "Oh crap, is that what I look like?" I can't wait.
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