Farewell to heroes

Google image

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...

Google image

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.