Farewell to heroes

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My heart breaks today for the families and fellow officers of four uniformed police officers shot down today in Tacoma (Parkland), Washington. A coward walked in to a coffee shop and slaughtered them. Three men and a woman who had devoted their lives to our safety; dead in a second. At the hands of a murderous waste of life force, a gutless chancre on society.

I desperately wish for him justice at the hands of the other men and women in blue.

I wish for those left behind healing peace, in time.

Thank you for your dedication to our society, officers. God speed.

From the Seattle-Times web site:

Police are looking for a Pierce County man in his 30s in connection with the execution-style shooting for four Lakewood police officers in a coffee shop this morning, sources told The Seattle Times.

The officers were killed at about 8:15 a.m. by a scruffy-looking man who walked into the coffee shop and opened fire.

The officers — three men and one woman — were found dead by deputies who arrived at Forza Coffee at 11401 Steele St. S., said Pierce County Sheriff's spokesman Ed Troyer. The officers made up one patrol unit, including a sergeant. Their families have been notified, but their identities have not been released.

"It's carnage out front everywhere," Troyer said, describing the front of the coffee shop. "It's like a bad horror movie, it's horrible."

The officers were in uniform, including bulletproof vests, and were working on their laptop computers as they prepared to start their day shifts, Troyer said. It is unclear whether they drew their guns and fired their weapons, he said.

"This was a targeted, selective ambush," Troyer said.

The Queen of the Forest

Google image (eHow)

Today, George went to a rural area deep in the coastal range mountains to the property of a friend. He rode with the man in a Gator up steep forested hillsides to secret spots to harvest gold, the gold of the native Chanterelle mushroom. A mushroom called the Golden Queen of the Forest by chefs.

Together, they picked (or gathered, more precisely) nearly two five gallon buckets of the tasty delicacies. Having $30 a pound rare edibles growing wild is a bonus of living in a rich and fertile area of rain forest climate.

Tonite, we feast on the rich woody taste of this example of our earth's bounty. And for many nights to come.

Tell about your life

“… the problem is that you haven’t realized how much

your stories matter. You may not realize every story

you tell is important … Nothing is more important

than the stories you tell yourself and others about

your work and your personal and community life.”

~ Annette Simmons, Whoever tells the best story wins

This is a quote from a book encouraging us to tell our own stories. Nurses, especially, need to let others know what we do, how we do it, and how it affects us and our patients. The public and our loved ones need to hear and feel the scope and reality of our work. How the unrelenting pain of a postsurgical patient tears at our composure and heart, how the desperate fear of the unknown can be felt in a patient's damp grip, how we soar to heights of joy when we catch a problem before it gets really bad for the patient, how hard it is to get some patients out of our mind at the end of a day.

But, the outside world needs also to know how analytical and cerebral nursing can be. The nurse is responsible for knowing the condition of the patient, the likely complications and how to avoid them, the homeostatic condition of the human animal and how that becomes disrupted in illness or insult. She must recognize the indicators: chemical, physical and behavioral, of impending doom. She must know how to respond to each, and when to call in the cavalry.

I have been amazed at the body of knowledge necessary to being a good nurse. Even after nursing school, the education continues at rapid pace. A nurse needs to continue reading, researching, and taking classes for years to become good at what she does. And do so on blue collar wages. Mechanics and electricians make more than nurses.

We need to tell our stories. The world needs to know that hospitals can only stay open as long as nurses are there. That the quality of care and the outcomes of patients are directly linked to the education level of the nurse caring for the patient. That we are held accountable legally just like a doctor or pharmacist, but have less education and receive less income and less recognition for our work. That, in the absence of financial recompense, recognition and appreciation will do.

Thanksgiving leftovers

It is Thanksgiving Day. The nest is empty, figuratively and literally. My kids have all made other plans. My siblings and their offspring are way too much work to have factored into this holiday for many years. George and I are alone together.

Quiet house, no special meal, no plans. We did get an invitation to dinner in a town a hundred miles away through a snowy pass.

I have a lot to be thankful for, I know that. But, right now, I wish I had a kid or two at the table. I feel so lonely, so forgotten.

Thanksgiving leftovers.

Warmer

I have spent the past few days self exiled from my home. Because workers have been installing a new heating system and occupying my space. They are in my two warmest and favorite rooms, the family room and my bedroom. I cannot tolerate seeing them there or sharing the space. I'd rather be gone.

These were nice guys, very respectful, clean and quiet. But they were others in my space. One guy noticed all my handgun magazines (the ammo holding kind) and wanted to talk guns and shooting. And talk some more. Being the antisocial person I tend to be in my private spaces, I was very uncomfortable.

So, I left home. For the hours that they were in my home, I was gone. On the first day, I drove home three times only to turn around and leave again when I saw the trucks still in the driveway. (We should have factored my forced absence and subsequent shopping into the budget.)

Yesterday was the workers last day here. The system is in, functioning beautifully. The house is warmer than its been in the three years we've lived here. Maybe I will ache a little less and have fewer episodes of Reynaud's vasospasm this winter.

My nest is again my own. I am warmer, and there are no strangers tramping about.

There are those days...

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WOMAN'S PERFECT BREAKFAST

She's sitting at the table with her gourmet coffee. Her son is on the cover of the Wheaties box. Her daughter is on the cover of Business Week. Her boyfriend is on the cover of Playgirl. And her husband is on the back of the milk carton.

Robbed at knife point

Google image of Chase Bank robber

My son's girlfriend was robbed at knifepoint yesterday. She works in an upscale lingerie boutique on a downtown street. The guy who robbed her has done the same thing at two other businesses in the past few days. Being the cowardly bastard he is, he targets young female clerks.

He is middle aged, scruffy, hyped-up, and dirty. He threatened to kill her if she did not comply, and then thrust the knife toward her midsection. As she scooped bills from the till, he shoved her roughly so that he could grab bigger bills, and faster. It pissed her off so much that she slammed his hand in the drawer, twice!

This girl is five foot nothing and barely a size two, but she was ready to take this nasty pig down! Not the best response to a knife wielding assailant, but you gotta admire her spirit!

George and I hurried down to support her when we heard. I was concerned about her state of mind, her reaction to the event, and her recovery from it. Having worked in the fire arms and law enforcement field for years, I know how profound a situation survival is, and how long lasting the effects can be.

When I heard about her anger, her presence of mind, and her reactions, I was relieved. She will get through this without melting, I think. Her spirit will sustain her.

Leaves, leaves, leaving...

from Kar's Kith and Kin, google

The leaves are falling. In piles, in heaps, in wet gooey masses in planters, on the swimming pool cover, under the lowest bushes. They are a foot deep in places where the wind has swirled them. And, because it rains three hundred fifty-eight days a year where I live, the leaves are always wet, slick and heavy. And hard to rake, sweep, or otherwise gather up and transport.

It is hard work, and not very gratifying. Its not like planting a garden, or mowing the lawn, where you feel a sense of tidiness after. Rather, raking and hauling leaves is forced maintenance done on nature's schedule, not my own. I either do it when the leaves are newly fallen and have some structural integrity, or do it later when they begin to resemble cooked spinach.

So, George and I spent the day listening to the university football game on the truck radio and raking leaves. Sounds cozy, doesn't it? In a way, I guess it was. It is the kind of day for thinking, working, reflecting. How many millions of leaves have we raked together? How many autumns have we worked side by side through? How many different lawns, for that matter, have we tidied together?

What's different now is that no kids are helping, no babies are carrying chubby handfuls of leaves to deposit on tiptoe into the wheelbarrow (pronounced wah-bee-oh in our family, thanks to one of those long ago babies). No teenagers shriek through the yard, throwing leaves at one another and threatening bodily harm. It is again just George and I. It is quiet with just the wind chimes and the soft clucking of the chickens.

It is autumn, and it is a time for leaving.

Plan ahead

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I don't get the mentality (or, more precisely, lack thereof...) behind scheduling nurses at the hospital.

Per diems submit their availability on each day of the upcoming cycle, waay in advance, I might add. Then, the scheduler takes about three weeks (c'mon, really, three weeks?) to produce our schedule. The schedule that will dictate our lives and income for the next month.

Then, we begin our work cycle and show up as arranged. The problem comes when there are staffing holes in the schedule. Big ones. And the charge nurses come around soliciting volunteers to work extra days. Today, for example, my unit is six nurses short. Six! That is just plain poor planning.

So, I am not working today. I am relishing the rest, the ease, the chance to not be on my feet for nine hours straight. And, I am a little smug at saying 'no' to coming in on a day off that has been a day off for nearly a month. Plan ahead, scheduler. It's your job. Learn to do it.

As they say, lack of planning on your part does not constitute an emergency on mine.

Quote

A wedding ring is a one man band.

--unknown, from Cowgirl Grit and Gumption

Old dogs, children and watermelon wine

'How old do you think I am?', he said,

I said 'Well I didn't know'
He said, 'I turned sixty five about eleven months ago'
I was sittin' in Miami pourin' blended whiskey down
When this old grey black gentleman was cleanin' up the lounge

There wasn't anyone around 'cept this old man and me
The guy who ran the bar was watching Ironsides on TV
Uninvited, he sat down and opened up his mind
On old dogs and children and watermelon wine

'Ever had a drink of watermelon wine?' he asked
He told me all about it though I didn't answer back
'Ain't but three things in this world that's worth a solitary dime,
But old dogs and children and watermelon wine'

He said 'Women think about theyselves when menfolk ain't around
And friends are hard to find when they discover that you're down'
He said 'I tried it all when I was young and in my natural prime
Now it's old dogs and children and watermelon wine'.

'Old dogs care about you even when you make mistakes
God bless little children while they're still too young to hate.'
When he moved away I found my pen and copied down that line
'Bout old dogs and children and watermelon wine

I had to catch a plane up to Atlanta that next day
As I left for my room I saw him pickin' up my change
That night I dreamed in peaceful sleep of shady summertime
Of old dogs and children and watermelon wine.

--Tom T. Hall, singer and storyteller

Due Diligence

That's what it's called when someone finds out all they can about a home or business or something they are thinking of buying or becoming involved in. Well, that's what we have been doing as we sort through the glut of homes on the market to find that 'just-right' fit. We had some questions to ask on a house that we had decided to make an offer on, and we got some (big) surprises.

So, we did not make an offer on this house. We have decided that, with the new information, we are not willing to buy it. So, we will keep looking. Experts tell us that the real estate market in that area will hit an all time low in March-April. Until then, a friend in the business who flips distressed homes will send us updates on foreclosures.

The issues we discovered were: two sides of the place, including the mountain view side, are buildable 10 acre parcels (we were originally told they were BLM), three windows were cracked from possible over load from the roof on the view side (we had a builder friend with us), the sewer had backed up into the yard since our last visit to the house, indicating a problem with the drain field or tank, and, the biggest problem, this beautiful 3500 sf house had ONLY floor heat in the upstairs, and little Cadet wall units in each room downstairs! No ductwork for a heat pump, and retro fit ductwork is hellaciously expensive, and the place has no air conditioning! That is not only energy inefficiency, it's cheap cut corner construction...

Wow, I'm telling you, when you buy (anything!), take your time and ask questions, and then bring an expert. Doing all of these might seem like overkill, but, it saved us from a terrible mistake.

1001 Things Every Teen Should Know Before They Leave Home

They should know what pills to take for what. Antibiotics don't work for a headache.

****************

They should know it's easier to keep nausea and first-aid medicine around before it's needed rather than drive to the drug store or their parents' while barfing out the window.

--Harry Harrison, Jr., from the above titled book

Bat count

When visiting my son in Jacksonville, Florida, we discovered that a bevy of bats lived under the eaves on his balcony. We started counting every night, trying to get an accurate count as they tumbled and took flight from their nest for the night's activities.

We kept count on the post beneath. Check out the little hand on the lower picture.

You're Pitiful

Al Yankovich, a wildly talented artist who is the parody prince of comedy songs, recorded a funny take on James Blunt's hit single 'You're Beautiful'. Al or Al's people requested permission to record it, and was blocked by the recording company.

Turns out he didn't need permission. It is a parody, therefore okay to record, but he went one better. He put it out for anyone to download free. Take that, Atlantic!

Read on:

According to Yankovic, Blunt himself gave his blessing to a song called "You're Pitiful" (audio), which was to appear on Yankovic's now-finished but as-yet-unreleased new album. But after Yankovic finished recording the parody, Atlantic Records, Blunt's label, told Yankovic that he couldn't release "You're Pitiful." Though Yankovic has encountered resistance from artists before -- after a miscommunication involving permissions, Coolio publicly objected to a released parody of "Gangsta's Paradise," while Prince has always turned down Yankovic's requests to parody his hits -- he says this is the first time a label has stepped in to squash the release of one of his parodies. (Quoth an Atlantic representative: "We have no comment on this matter.")

So how, exactly, does a music label have a say in whether one of its artists can be parodied?

"The legality in this case is somewhat moot," Yankovic writes when contacted via e-mail. "James Blunt could still let me put it on my album if he really wanted to, but he obviously doesn't want to alienate his own record company... and my label could release the parody without Atlantic's blessing, but they don't really want to go to war with another label over this. So really, it's more of a political matter than a legal matter."

Of course, it's not hard to circulate a song these days, and Yankovic has helped that process along by making an MP3 of the track available for free download on his Web site. It may not appear on Yankovic's new album, but "You're Pitiful" will still swirl around in cyberspace long after Blunt's original recedes from memory.

"I have a long-standing history of respecting artists' wishes," Yankovic writes. "So if James Blunt himself were objecting, I wouldn't even offer my parody for free on my Web site. But since it's a bunch of suits -- who are actually going against their own artist's wishes -- I have absolutely no problem with it."

(from www.npr.org

So, here it is:

http://www.dohtem.com/yourepitiful.mp3

House hunting

George and I went to the center of our state last weekend, looking for a home. Wow. It has resurrected fears, insecurities and phobias. I am not surprised. I go through this every time we move or make a 'home decision'.

Multiple moves, purchases and commitments have not changed a thing. I still feel the shifting sands beneath my feet. I still agonize over whether we can afford it (we are paying cash), whether we will be happy (we always are), whether the kids will be happy (they always are), whether we will regret our decision (we really haven't, ever). Life pretty much goes on as before, with a different location. We are nothing, if not stable.

That should give me solace. Oh, no. I am Irish and I am female. I need to perseverate on stuff. I need to worry and dwell, I need to stalk the peat bogs in the freezing fog with long, soaked wool skirts, thick hair curling in drenched strands around my furrowed brow. I need to stomp into a warm stable, thick with the smell of horse and hay, pour out my laments to the farm cat, and finally reach a difficult decision, bravely, of course.

Oh, shut up. Like you don't have your own fantasies. What I mean is, this is a grown up decision that I (again) feel unqualified for. But, George and I will confer, cogitate, scribble, weigh, and finally, commit.

Meanwhile, I will act according to my culture.

Predator dispatched

I awakened at the hundredth crow of Goober, and the two hundredth of Albert, both sounding like they were directly under my window. I had put a pillow over my head at 0430, when they began their catterwalling. Now, at 0630, the alarm could not penetrate what the crowing could. I mumbled to the bathroom to begin the prep for another day. I always look out my second story window first thing.

A nasty, big, scruffy, diseased-looking Tom cat was in the yard, stalking our carefully tended quail. (Li'l Peep was the size of a quail...) He moved like silk in the early morning fog, tail twitching above prominent testicals. He stalked the nervous little birds, who shifted and darted, seeking sanctuary.

Before he could pounce on another beloved animal, he was shot. Killed. Dead. Seriously fatally injured. Laid low by a 12 gauge.

Lesson for animals: 'do not fuck with our animals. Predators not welcome. Seek mousies and canned tender niblets elsewhere'. Lesson for cat owners: 'Keep Fluffy Balls home, neuter him, or don't drop him off at my farm. Farm life is a bitch for unwelcome animals'.

R.I.P., Li'l Peep.

I will kill

Our sweet little girl, Peep, was killed. Her feathers were strewn across our chicken yard and lawn. It looks like a feral cat kill. Less so a 'coon or hawk.

It will die. I will kill this thing, most probably dropped off to be a 'barn cat' after the cute kitten became a robust, predatory, mean male. Hear me, city folks? Your little kitten will be blown away by my 12 gauge.

Rethink your pet management plan.

Yours kill mine, I kill yours. Code of the West.

A day in the life...

Wow, today was something.

I went in after a desperate call from the charge nurse last night, on my day off. Every nurse was swamped, dealing with too much pressure, too many patients, just too much...

From intubated craniotomy patients to folks with no urge to urinate (but retaining a thousand milliliters of urine), my patients have been desperate, needy, painful, confused, and complicated.

Just another day in the PACU. Thank God for knowledge and skills, peer support, standing orders, and deep breathing.

Quote

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Your boots may be for walking,

but mine are in case I have to kick your ass.

--Unknown

Back from elk hunting

I am back from a week in elk camp. A week that gave me 9 degree nights, stinging horizontal icy snow, visibility of less than one hundred feet at times, daily three to seven mile treks up and down at mile high plus altitude, and not one damn elk. Okay, I saw two fresh tracks. No recent sign, no rubs, no wallows, nada.

I am pissed. At Oregon Department of Fish and Wildlife. For unethical business practices. More on this later...

Tonight, after driving for over five hours, I am tired.