Last night at Asgard karaoke Kevin Harrington and I may or may not have had this conversation:
me: hey do you know Snakes on a Plane?
Kevin: no, is that a real song?
me: yeah.
Kevin: sing it for me...
me: I don't remember it. The video was at the end of the movie. It was ridiculous. Now I can't remember it.
Kevin: I've never even heard of it. Let's do it anyway!
This video is safe for work.. they bleeped out Samuel L. Jackson's colorful line...
Thursday, July 30, 2009
Wednesday, July 29, 2009
Kaminga's Baby
One of my earliest memories of Kaminga isn't even my own memory. It's her, as a child of seven or eight wearing a green tee shirt singing Castle on a Cloud in a St. Theresa's Variety Show. I am almost certain it's actually a memory of a video recording since I was in the same variety show and was probably back stage at the time. The next thing I knew we were twelve years old. We caused the most trouble in Ms. st Charles' English class, redeeming ourselves with a proclivity for memorizing Shakespeare and recreating medieval castles from found materials.
Today I got an IM from her as I checked my email before work. It said simply: "Water broke!"
Today I got an IM from her as I checked my email before work. It said simply: "Water broke!"
Tuesday, July 28, 2009
Leaving Tower Street
As the days of summer march on I think more and more how much I love this apartment.
Mostly because I'll be leaving it soon.
I don't know for sure where I am going yet, only that Peter, our landlord, is selling the apartment to someone else. The apartment, which is already technically a condo is going to be worth hundreds of thousands more after he renovates. We would not be able to afford it.
I do my share of wishing I lived closer to the things I do every day. The $30 cab rides home from the North End after a midnight show tend to add up quickly in a month's time. But I do so many things I can't ever be central to all of them. This location is almost perfect.
Once you get off the train at Forest Hills you hear the traffic and general chaos of Washington Street. You cross the street, dodging cars until you reach the corner of Tower. As you begin to walk up the hill, not even a four minute walk, you notice that all the sounds are gone. All you hear are birds, maybe a guitar being strummed. People are sitting on their porches chatting. Someone's grilling. The sidewalk is overhung with trees and gardens sprawl out from the tiny patches of grass in front of triple deckers, and off the decks themselves.
It's like a different world.
Tower Street is a dead end. At the bottom of the street there's the train station, the Dogwood, a bodega and of course, Java Jo's. At the end, there's an iron gate with an entrance to Forest Hills Cemetery - home of some of my favorite wildlife and art work*.
Tonight I sat on my back porch with all the Christmas lights lit and watched the moon, which was a shade of gold, move across a purple sky. No stars, (I'm still in the city after all), but I can't hear the buses I know are moving in and out of the terminal only a block away. Instead, I can hear crickets, and the strains of a harmonica next door.
I'm going to miss sitting on the roof, the way the Japanese maple casts shadows on the front porch.
Even more I'm going to miss my roommates. Laura and I might be staying together, but may not be. Johnny is moving in with hir girlfriend. We have built an oasis here. We've had our share of grievances, but for the most part we've built a home where we can create, love, eat, drink, bathe and enjoy company. Our door is always open to travelers. Now I'm the traveler, and that feeling may last quite a while if I move in with strangers.
Then again, I felt this way about leaving Eagle Street with all my childhood memories, and Butterfield with our secret roof deck. I felt this way about McClellan with its secret passages and fire pit. And I've felt this way about roommates before. Wondering if I'd ever get along so well with a group of people again. And I always do.
---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
* Yep, I said artwork. In the cemetery.
Mostly because I'll be leaving it soon.
I don't know for sure where I am going yet, only that Peter, our landlord, is selling the apartment to someone else. The apartment, which is already technically a condo is going to be worth hundreds of thousands more after he renovates. We would not be able to afford it.
I do my share of wishing I lived closer to the things I do every day. The $30 cab rides home from the North End after a midnight show tend to add up quickly in a month's time. But I do so many things I can't ever be central to all of them. This location is almost perfect.
Once you get off the train at Forest Hills you hear the traffic and general chaos of Washington Street. You cross the street, dodging cars until you reach the corner of Tower. As you begin to walk up the hill, not even a four minute walk, you notice that all the sounds are gone. All you hear are birds, maybe a guitar being strummed. People are sitting on their porches chatting. Someone's grilling. The sidewalk is overhung with trees and gardens sprawl out from the tiny patches of grass in front of triple deckers, and off the decks themselves.
It's like a different world.
Tower Street is a dead end. At the bottom of the street there's the train station, the Dogwood, a bodega and of course, Java Jo's. At the end, there's an iron gate with an entrance to Forest Hills Cemetery - home of some of my favorite wildlife and art work*.
Tonight I sat on my back porch with all the Christmas lights lit and watched the moon, which was a shade of gold, move across a purple sky. No stars, (I'm still in the city after all), but I can't hear the buses I know are moving in and out of the terminal only a block away. Instead, I can hear crickets, and the strains of a harmonica next door.
I'm going to miss sitting on the roof, the way the Japanese maple casts shadows on the front porch.
Even more I'm going to miss my roommates. Laura and I might be staying together, but may not be. Johnny is moving in with hir girlfriend. We have built an oasis here. We've had our share of grievances, but for the most part we've built a home where we can create, love, eat, drink, bathe and enjoy company. Our door is always open to travelers. Now I'm the traveler, and that feeling may last quite a while if I move in with strangers.
Then again, I felt this way about leaving Eagle Street with all my childhood memories, and Butterfield with our secret roof deck. I felt this way about McClellan with its secret passages and fire pit. And I've felt this way about roommates before. Wondering if I'd ever get along so well with a group of people again. And I always do.
---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
* Yep, I said artwork. In the cemetery.
Thursday, July 23, 2009
Productivity in the Medical Workplace
Yesterday felt like treading water. It seemed like no matter how much work I put into my 13 patients, I was just sustaining status quo. It didn't help that I had just met most of them that morning.
At the end of her day the NP of the team came in, bag in hand and stood beside me in the nurse's station. She sighed."Well, that was a day", she said, "I feel like we did nothing."
Exhausted, and with a few more hours left in my own day, I tried to smile.
"No way. We got a lot out of the way today..."
We stared at each other.
I tried to start a list: "We figured out all of Mr. C's medications."
She added, "and we found his infection."
I warmed up, "we sure did, and we got him antibiotics right away."
She thought out loud, "He'll still need to follow up with the surgeon.."
"So? And we adjusted all of Mr. H's insulin..."
"He'll need a lot more adjusting I'm afraid..."
"I'm losing you!"
"Ok ok! Only positives... we have a discharge plan for Ms. C!"
"Yes! Ok. The point is, today we worked to get everything to its baseline... tomorrow we can kick it up a notch."
And today we did.
Monday, July 20, 2009
Can't Stop my Feet
I'm going to hang out with my students at summer camp again today.
Later I have to decide where I live.
Enjoy this video of my new favorite song.
Later I have to decide where I live.
Enjoy this video of my new favorite song.
Sunday, July 19, 2009
Three Hole at the Burren
This evening Three Hole Punch will perform along with our friends in Bastard's Inc at the Bad Habits Productions showcase.
Comdedy On Tap
5:30pm at The Burren in Davis Square.
Comdedy On Tap
5:30pm at The Burren in Davis Square.
Body Notes
This morning I woke up with a note pinned to my chest:
Dear Misch,
Remember me? I thought I'd come hang out again since it's been awhile. Humidity rocks!
Hope you weren't planning to work out today.
love,
Asthma
P.S: Your Claritin supply is low. I checked.
Remember me? I thought I'd come hang out again since it's been awhile. Humidity rocks!
Hope you weren't planning to work out today.
love,
Asthma
P.S: Your Claritin supply is low. I checked.
Saturday, July 18, 2009
Ten True Stories About Brian Whitaker
In the style of this and this, I now bring you Ten True Stories about Brian Whitaker. Happy Birthday, Brian!
1. The day Brian was born I was supposed to go see Snow White with my mother's friend Michele. Instead, my parents woke me up to tell me that my new brother was coming today, and wasn't that even more exciting! The answer is yes, but I am still hazy on why I couldn't go to the movies. It's not like I helped deliver him...
2. My little brother immediately became a captive audience for me. According to my mother all she had to do was sit him down in front of me and I would sing songs, tell stories, read books and act out plays for hours on end while she got things done around the house. And he loved it.
2b. Once Brian could walk and talk he traded in his audience role for one of an actor. I "directed" him in several two-man shows. Our family STILL talks about how we memorized the Scarecrow and Dorothy scene and how we'd perform it at every family gathering. However, he grew up to be very, very stage- shy.
3. Brian was born to skate. He played other sports too, baseball and soccer - but hockey was his real calling. The first time Dad took him to the rink near our house Brian just took off on the skates - no milk crates, no hobbling around and falling over. He was 6 years old.
4. When we were growing up we had a Christmas tradition where Brian would sleep on the floor of my room on Christmas Eve. We'd stay up all night talking and laughing. I have no idea what we talked about, but those are still some of my favorite memories.
5. When we were moving from Eagle Street, where we grew up, tension levels were high. Fights were a plenty. It came up one day that no one had taken the door knocker off and Mom said she didn't care. We knew she did though. It had our name on it. Brian and I didn't even talk about it, we just both showed up at the front door with tools and silently removed it.
6. He once needed stitches because he hit himself in the head with a baseball bat trying to swing at a basketball.
7. Brian figured out sometime between high school and Job Corps that he loves cooking and that he is fantastic at it. He now works as a chef at a nursing home in Dedham, which lets him give back to the community. But one of his real passions is cooking food for his loved ones. Sometimes after work Brian brings me pies or stuffed cabbage. And when his kitchen is throwing away bread he always saves me some.
8. Although Brian is a real tough as nails kind of guy he secretly knows all the words to several songs from RENT.
8a. Also, he doesn't read my blog.
9. When we were teenagers one of our favorite pass times together was ghost hunting. Then one night when I was in college Brian called me because he actually saw one of the ghosts we'd been hunting down for years, the local legend ghost of Hammer Road. He wanted to know if there were any prayers he could say to make sure the ghost didn't come home with him.
9a. This is the most spiritual advice my now- agnostic brother has asked me for since I was his Confirmation sponsor at church.
10. I called Brian one night in college because I had come home to see a concert and then was stranded downtown after the trains stopped running with no cash for a cab and no ATM in the blocks that I walked. I had no idea where I was but he figured it out and got me. This has happened more than once.
BONUS: My brother was recently questioned by police in the context of the theft of 400 cartons of cigarettes in Dover. The reason? He had posted on his facebook page that he had some cheap cigarettes for sale. To prove his innocence he had to reveal the deal he had recently struck up with an elderly man at a nursing home who orders cigarettes online from out of state to avoid taxes. No word yet on whether the old man is getting in trouble.
1. The day Brian was born I was supposed to go see Snow White with my mother's friend Michele. Instead, my parents woke me up to tell me that my new brother was coming today, and wasn't that even more exciting! The answer is yes, but I am still hazy on why I couldn't go to the movies. It's not like I helped deliver him...
2. My little brother immediately became a captive audience for me. According to my mother all she had to do was sit him down in front of me and I would sing songs, tell stories, read books and act out plays for hours on end while she got things done around the house. And he loved it.
2b. Once Brian could walk and talk he traded in his audience role for one of an actor. I "directed" him in several two-man shows. Our family STILL talks about how we memorized the Scarecrow and Dorothy scene and how we'd perform it at every family gathering. However, he grew up to be very, very stage- shy.
3. Brian was born to skate. He played other sports too, baseball and soccer - but hockey was his real calling. The first time Dad took him to the rink near our house Brian just took off on the skates - no milk crates, no hobbling around and falling over. He was 6 years old.
4. When we were growing up we had a Christmas tradition where Brian would sleep on the floor of my room on Christmas Eve. We'd stay up all night talking and laughing. I have no idea what we talked about, but those are still some of my favorite memories.
5. When we were moving from Eagle Street, where we grew up, tension levels were high. Fights were a plenty. It came up one day that no one had taken the door knocker off and Mom said she didn't care. We knew she did though. It had our name on it. Brian and I didn't even talk about it, we just both showed up at the front door with tools and silently removed it.
6. He once needed stitches because he hit himself in the head with a baseball bat trying to swing at a basketball.
7. Brian figured out sometime between high school and Job Corps that he loves cooking and that he is fantastic at it. He now works as a chef at a nursing home in Dedham, which lets him give back to the community. But one of his real passions is cooking food for his loved ones. Sometimes after work Brian brings me pies or stuffed cabbage. And when his kitchen is throwing away bread he always saves me some.
8. Although Brian is a real tough as nails kind of guy he secretly knows all the words to several songs from RENT.
8a. Also, he doesn't read my blog.
9. When we were teenagers one of our favorite pass times together was ghost hunting. Then one night when I was in college Brian called me because he actually saw one of the ghosts we'd been hunting down for years, the local legend ghost of Hammer Road. He wanted to know if there were any prayers he could say to make sure the ghost didn't come home with him.
9a. This is the most spiritual advice my now- agnostic brother has asked me for since I was his Confirmation sponsor at church.
10. I called Brian one night in college because I had come home to see a concert and then was stranded downtown after the trains stopped running with no cash for a cab and no ATM in the blocks that I walked. I had no idea where I was but he figured it out and got me. This has happened more than once.
BONUS: My brother was recently questioned by police in the context of the theft of 400 cartons of cigarettes in Dover. The reason? He had posted on his facebook page that he had some cheap cigarettes for sale. To prove his innocence he had to reveal the deal he had recently struck up with an elderly man at a nursing home who orders cigarettes online from out of state to avoid taxes. No word yet on whether the old man is getting in trouble.
Tuesday, July 14, 2009
Nursing Stereotypes are Unhealthy. Period.
Since I am home from work with a sinus attack, I have slept more than 18 hours in the past 24 hours. If I go back to sleep now I'll never sleep through the night. And so, I suppose I should go back to keeping this blog.
Last week a nurse practitioner friend of mine sent me a link to this N.Y Times article: Why Nurse Stereotypes are Bad for Health.
I loved the piece, although I felt the author spent too much time giving examples of negative nurse stereotypes and not enough attention on what the title promised: how nursing stereotypes can negatively effect health.
Brown argues
Besides the fact that media is subtly brainwashing the general public to not really care about nurses rights or safety, I would wager to say that these messages actually damage patient care outcomes and end up costing tax payers more money in the long run.
Consider that the nurse's job is not actually to "help" the physician, but is, as Brown points out, to oversee patient care. Nursing is an "autonomous profession."
Nurses take orders from doctors and N.Ps but are independently responsible for administering medications and treatments. Nurses are accountable for medication errors, even those that can be traced back to mistakes in orders. They aren't just mindlessly carrying out orders from doctors, but instead are receiving and double checking medication orders to be sure that no harm may come to their patients. And if they question a medication, dose, or any other treatment they have a right to refuse to administer it. They oversee wound care, IV therapy, and in many cases PT, OT or RT in between visits to specialists. Nurses communicate with several different disciplines for optimal patient care (not just M.Ds), and organize the greater care plan for each individual patient.
They have a two to four year education under their belts which includes a knowledge of pathophysiology and disease process that allows them to make clear, evidence based decisions in their practice on a minute to minute basis. They have their own system of "nursing diagnosis" and interventions for plan of care, and measure outcome independently from other disciplines.
And so, imagine the problems that arise for me, your friendly R.N, when I ask a patient if I can take his apical pulse rate before administering his digoxin dose and he tells me, "just give me the pill, that's your job."
Patients who believe that nurses are only a pill-dispensing gate keeper for the doctor are not going to do as well as patients who understand that nurses keep them safe and keep them on the correct track. Consider my friend above, he's not going to get his medication. Because there's no way I'm giving it to him without knowing what his apical heart rate is. So he's going to go see the M.D or N.P who is going to send him right back to me. Later the patient will complain that the M.D didn't spend any time with him, and he has more questions. I will then be expected to take time away from my other patients to hunt down the provider since of course the patient won't even ask me the questions. "You wouldn't know, I need to talk to a doctor."
A patient who lets me take his apical though, he'll get his med if it's appropriate. But what if it's not, what if his heart rate is below 60bpm? Then I ask some questions to find out more. Turns out, he's dizzy when he stands up. So I do a set of orthostatic vital signs. In addition to bradycardia, the the guy has orthostatic hypotension. Then maybe he also tells me he's having dreams about his dead daughter. Or he needs help finding benefits for veterans. Bam - now I have case management and psych all flagged for him. By the time he sees the N.P he also has an appointment to see a psychologist, case management has gotten him in touch with a V.A, and we found out that the reason he's so dizzy is that his medications need adjusting. He goes to see the N.P and has a much more effective visit with him or her as a result of our therapeutic interaction.
Hey, whatever. The media has not been very interested in correcting stereotypes that hurt public health. Smoking is still bad ass and sexy, and binge drinking is normal (and hilarious!), so I guess nursing is going to have to deal with being shoved under the bus for at least a time longer.
Still, I think everyone would be a lot healthier if we ditched the stereotypes. Just ask your doctor. You know - the one who makes house calls and carries a black bag with him.
Now where is my white hat?
Last week a nurse practitioner friend of mine sent me a link to this N.Y Times article: Why Nurse Stereotypes are Bad for Health.
I loved the piece, although I felt the author spent too much time giving examples of negative nurse stereotypes and not enough attention on what the title promised: how nursing stereotypes can negatively effect health.
Brown argues
The problem with how nurses are portrayed in the media is that it has the potential to devalue the way we view nurses in the real world. The result is less support for important policy issues like short staffing and nurse burnout.I completely agree, but I can't help but feel like this can be expanded on even more.
Besides the fact that media is subtly brainwashing the general public to not really care about nurses rights or safety, I would wager to say that these messages actually damage patient care outcomes and end up costing tax payers more money in the long run.
Consider that the nurse's job is not actually to "help" the physician, but is, as Brown points out, to oversee patient care. Nursing is an "autonomous profession."
Nurses take orders from doctors and N.Ps but are independently responsible for administering medications and treatments. Nurses are accountable for medication errors, even those that can be traced back to mistakes in orders. They aren't just mindlessly carrying out orders from doctors, but instead are receiving and double checking medication orders to be sure that no harm may come to their patients. And if they question a medication, dose, or any other treatment they have a right to refuse to administer it. They oversee wound care, IV therapy, and in many cases PT, OT or RT in between visits to specialists. Nurses communicate with several different disciplines for optimal patient care (not just M.Ds), and organize the greater care plan for each individual patient.
They have a two to four year education under their belts which includes a knowledge of pathophysiology and disease process that allows them to make clear, evidence based decisions in their practice on a minute to minute basis. They have their own system of "nursing diagnosis" and interventions for plan of care, and measure outcome independently from other disciplines.
And so, imagine the problems that arise for me, your friendly R.N, when I ask a patient if I can take his apical pulse rate before administering his digoxin dose and he tells me, "just give me the pill, that's your job."
Patients who believe that nurses are only a pill-dispensing gate keeper for the doctor are not going to do as well as patients who understand that nurses keep them safe and keep them on the correct track. Consider my friend above, he's not going to get his medication. Because there's no way I'm giving it to him without knowing what his apical heart rate is. So he's going to go see the M.D or N.P who is going to send him right back to me. Later the patient will complain that the M.D didn't spend any time with him, and he has more questions. I will then be expected to take time away from my other patients to hunt down the provider since of course the patient won't even ask me the questions. "You wouldn't know, I need to talk to a doctor."
A patient who lets me take his apical though, he'll get his med if it's appropriate. But what if it's not, what if his heart rate is below 60bpm? Then I ask some questions to find out more. Turns out, he's dizzy when he stands up. So I do a set of orthostatic vital signs. In addition to bradycardia, the the guy has orthostatic hypotension. Then maybe he also tells me he's having dreams about his dead daughter. Or he needs help finding benefits for veterans. Bam - now I have case management and psych all flagged for him. By the time he sees the N.P he also has an appointment to see a psychologist, case management has gotten him in touch with a V.A, and we found out that the reason he's so dizzy is that his medications need adjusting. He goes to see the N.P and has a much more effective visit with him or her as a result of our therapeutic interaction.
Hey, whatever. The media has not been very interested in correcting stereotypes that hurt public health. Smoking is still bad ass and sexy, and binge drinking is normal (and hilarious!), so I guess nursing is going to have to deal with being shoved under the bus for at least a time longer.
Still, I think everyone would be a lot healthier if we ditched the stereotypes. Just ask your doctor. You know - the one who makes house calls and carries a black bag with him.
Now where is my white hat?
Thursday, July 9, 2009
a week of moments like this one
Because it was there when I got off the train I took the #1 to work today.
As I sat sipping some yerba mate and reading The Metro I heard a noise that immediately made my heart sing.
I looked up at the bus ceiling, willing my eyes to adjust to the shadows of the crevices where wall met roof.
Then I realized that what I was hearing was someone playing with their ipod touch.
...not a gecko at all.
As I sat sipping some yerba mate and reading The Metro I heard a noise that immediately made my heart sing.
I looked up at the bus ceiling, willing my eyes to adjust to the shadows of the crevices where wall met roof.
Then I realized that what I was hearing was someone playing with their ipod touch.
...not a gecko at all.
Wednesday, July 8, 2009
fighting words
Audience member outside of The Perishable Theater in Providence:
... so is this all you do?
Me, laughing :
no... I work during the day as a nurse... with Boston Healthcare for the Homeless.
Audience member:
oh... so you clean them up so they can go out and drink all over again?
Me:
no, no... well, sometimes. but we see a lot of chronic illnesses... cancer, diabetes. We help manage acute situations like broken limbs, wounds...
Audience member who knows no boundaries:
yeah, but... then they just go get messed up again, right?
Me:
that's not really what it's about.
NECN ran a spot on what it's really about. Enjoy:
... so is this all you do?
Me, laughing :
no... I work during the day as a nurse... with Boston Healthcare for the Homeless.
Audience member:
oh... so you clean them up so they can go out and drink all over again?
Me:
no, no... well, sometimes. but we see a lot of chronic illnesses... cancer, diabetes. We help manage acute situations like broken limbs, wounds...
Audience member who knows no boundaries:
yeah, but... then they just go get messed up again, right?
Me:
that's not really what it's about.
NECN ran a spot on what it's really about. Enjoy:
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