Day One.
This morning I am flying solo to Ft. Lauderdale. About an hour after I arrive the rest of the team will get there.
We have a hotel room booked for the night, and during the day we plan to hydrate, rest and bond. (I also plan to get some Vitamin D!) Also, yesterday I caved and bought an ipod touch, so I will also be practicing my Creole using this Byki App all day.
Tomorrow we board the cargo plane to Haiti. When we arrive we'll be given our assignments.
I have no idea what to expect.
Sinead worked in the ER. Rachel worked in the pysch unit (she speaks fluent Creole so that makes sense). Barry, our director of nursing, worked as their director of nursing while he was there. Not knowing the language, most of his staff, or the protocols, he jumped in and helped keep the place running for his seven days. This week our co worker, Amy M. has a facebook status that says she is working night shifts... in the ICU.
There is so much that I know ("bring flip flops for when you get to shower," "use DEET it's the only thing that works..") but the unknowns of where I'll be working and how it will be set up, and what kind of skills I'll be calling on (and learning!) are just huge right now.
Showing posts with label adventures. Show all posts
Showing posts with label adventures. Show all posts
Friday, February 26, 2010
Wednesday, December 30, 2009
Old Timey New Fangled Gastro Disaster Plans
Last night my friend Mike M. invited me and Jen, who is staying with me for the holidays to go see The Can Kickers play in Allston.
"I love music with a washboard," I exclaimed to Jen who, typically, was not as excited about punk rooted Appalachian jam bands as I am. In just a few hours we found ourselves crammed into a house party with about fifty other people, hopping up and down to the folk based, punk tinged, drum backed sound of the band. I danced small in the front row. I ran into two former students of mine in the impossibly tight crowd, and made friends with a girl who let me stand in front of her because "you're so short, you should go up close!"
"It's a perk," Jen commented to Mike.
"I don't take up a lot of space," I explained to our newest friends, "but I do bring two normal sized people with me wherever I go."
After the set, we inched our way out the door through the clouds of smoke and between bottles Two Buck Chuck being passed from hand to hand.
Later the evening found us in Boston's South End toasting a dear friend for his birthday. We found Quinn drinking at Aquitaine but he soon hustled us one street over to Boston's newest trattoria, Coppa.
"I can't believe we went from that to this," whispered Jen as Quinn ordered us a bottle of champagne and we browsed a menu of dishes such as fried risotto balls and chicken livers.
Inside the cozy restaurant people chatted quietly. There were no amps, no smoke, and certainly no PBRs to be found.
Our waitress was attentive and thrilled to find out that our plan as a table was to eat the most exotic things we could find. We let Quinn order, in honor of his birthday.
He chose an octopus salad with onions, a pizza topped with oxtail and bone marrow, sea urchin carbonara, and calves' brains ravioli.
"Those are baby cow brains."
"Think of it as using the whole animal."
"Thank you, Pocahontas."
WARNING: If you do not like strange and exotic foods you may want to skip the descriptions that follow.
I'm no stranger to octopus or to sea urchin and Mike seemed especially excited about the brain ravioli so I reported I was game. I was nervous about the bone marrow, due to some fairly unique personal experience in the OR.
The octopus came out first, and was impressively tender for how cold it was. I'm guessing it was pre-grilled, which explains that.
Next came the brain ravioli. I was able to fake myself out by not looking at the ravioli as I cut into it. The texture was similar to cheese ravioli. It was one of the saltiest things I have ever eaten, but I wasn't a huge fan of it overall. I'd rather try to make cheese ravioli with a beef sauce than put something so rich in my stomach again.
Then came the pizza. I regarded the pizza coolly, trying to figure out which part was the marrow. As I took my first bite, my stomach shifted. It was salty, earthy tasting. Not bad. But it also managed to taste just a little too much the way human bone marrow smells.
After getting it down I sipped champagne frantically trying to keep my composure.
"Not bad, right?"
"No, not at all," I smoothed my napkin, anxiously. I had come out with an empty stomach ready for pasta or a cheeseburger. Bone marrow was anything but filling, and we had one dish left to try.
The waitress took a second round of drink orders (water for me, thanks), and set the sea urchin carbonara on the table. We divided it up and went to work.
But as soon as the pasta hit my mouth I felt that I could go no further. Something about the eggs, cheese and butter immediately disagreed with me. I politely put my fork down.
"Are you going to finish that?" Mike was looking at my plate, and I gladly handed it over to him.
I continued to sip on water as the night came to a close.
Later I returned to my apartment with Jen and with Brennan, another friend and house guest for the week. As we prepared to turn in for the night, the tiny creatures in my stomach began to fight.
Embarrassed, I got into the bathroom and proceeded to free all the animals*.
Jen and Brennan were very gracious about their sick hostess, convincing me to put on my pajamas, call out of work and go to bed.
As we were falling asleep Jen whispered, "I'm still in disbelief of tonight's events."
"You mean how we went from listening to a folk band play music in a hippie commune to eating - (I gagged a little bit thinking about what we had been eating) in the South End?"
"Yeah."
"It figures, though."
"Yeah. It figures."
----------------------------------------------------------
* puke my (literal) brains out
"I love music with a washboard," I exclaimed to Jen who, typically, was not as excited about punk rooted Appalachian jam bands as I am. In just a few hours we found ourselves crammed into a house party with about fifty other people, hopping up and down to the folk based, punk tinged, drum backed sound of the band. I danced small in the front row. I ran into two former students of mine in the impossibly tight crowd, and made friends with a girl who let me stand in front of her because "you're so short, you should go up close!"
"It's a perk," Jen commented to Mike.
"I don't take up a lot of space," I explained to our newest friends, "but I do bring two normal sized people with me wherever I go."
After the set, we inched our way out the door through the clouds of smoke and between bottles Two Buck Chuck being passed from hand to hand.
Later the evening found us in Boston's South End toasting a dear friend for his birthday. We found Quinn drinking at Aquitaine but he soon hustled us one street over to Boston's newest trattoria, Coppa.
"I can't believe we went from that to this," whispered Jen as Quinn ordered us a bottle of champagne and we browsed a menu of dishes such as fried risotto balls and chicken livers.
Inside the cozy restaurant people chatted quietly. There were no amps, no smoke, and certainly no PBRs to be found.
Our waitress was attentive and thrilled to find out that our plan as a table was to eat the most exotic things we could find. We let Quinn order, in honor of his birthday.
He chose an octopus salad with onions, a pizza topped with oxtail and bone marrow, sea urchin carbonara, and calves' brains ravioli.
"Those are baby cow brains."
"Think of it as using the whole animal."
"Thank you, Pocahontas."
WARNING: If you do not like strange and exotic foods you may want to skip the descriptions that follow.
I'm no stranger to octopus or to sea urchin and Mike seemed especially excited about the brain ravioli so I reported I was game. I was nervous about the bone marrow, due to some fairly unique personal experience in the OR.
The octopus came out first, and was impressively tender for how cold it was. I'm guessing it was pre-grilled, which explains that.
Next came the brain ravioli. I was able to fake myself out by not looking at the ravioli as I cut into it. The texture was similar to cheese ravioli. It was one of the saltiest things I have ever eaten, but I wasn't a huge fan of it overall. I'd rather try to make cheese ravioli with a beef sauce than put something so rich in my stomach again.
Then came the pizza. I regarded the pizza coolly, trying to figure out which part was the marrow. As I took my first bite, my stomach shifted. It was salty, earthy tasting. Not bad. But it also managed to taste just a little too much the way human bone marrow smells.
After getting it down I sipped champagne frantically trying to keep my composure.
"Not bad, right?"
"No, not at all," I smoothed my napkin, anxiously. I had come out with an empty stomach ready for pasta or a cheeseburger. Bone marrow was anything but filling, and we had one dish left to try.
The waitress took a second round of drink orders (water for me, thanks), and set the sea urchin carbonara on the table. We divided it up and went to work.
But as soon as the pasta hit my mouth I felt that I could go no further. Something about the eggs, cheese and butter immediately disagreed with me. I politely put my fork down.
"Are you going to finish that?" Mike was looking at my plate, and I gladly handed it over to him.
I continued to sip on water as the night came to a close.
Later I returned to my apartment with Jen and with Brennan, another friend and house guest for the week. As we prepared to turn in for the night, the tiny creatures in my stomach began to fight.
Embarrassed, I got into the bathroom and proceeded to free all the animals*.
Jen and Brennan were very gracious about their sick hostess, convincing me to put on my pajamas, call out of work and go to bed.
As we were falling asleep Jen whispered, "I'm still in disbelief of tonight's events."
"You mean how we went from listening to a folk band play music in a hippie commune to eating - (I gagged a little bit thinking about what we had been eating) in the South End?"
"Yeah."
"It figures, though."
"Yeah. It figures."
----------------------------------------------------------
* puke my (literal) brains out
Monday, November 23, 2009
On the first day of Christmas my true love gave to me...
...a fir tree full of sharks....
David and I went to Ikea last week to find a new carpet. We failed in our mission but managed to secure a bag of frozen meatballs as well as some nice place mats, and a series of photos of this rare shark conifer.
I wrote every single day last week but posted very little of what I worked on because I hated it.
Updating may be similarly spotty this week because as you are reading this I am picking my (original)* college roommate up at Logan airport for a week of shenanigans.
------------------------------------------------------------------------------
* Once I moved off campus I roomed with many, many different people, friends and ferrets. I need to specify that Jen and I lived together in the dorms for two years because it is just more accurate that way.
David and I went to Ikea last week to find a new carpet. We failed in our mission but managed to secure a bag of frozen meatballs as well as some nice place mats, and a series of photos of this rare shark conifer.
I wrote every single day last week but posted very little of what I worked on because I hated it.
Updating may be similarly spotty this week because as you are reading this I am picking my (original)* college roommate up at Logan airport for a week of shenanigans.
------------------------------------------------------------------------------
* Once I moved off campus I roomed with many, many different people, friends and ferrets. I need to specify that Jen and I lived together in the dorms for two years because it is just more accurate that way.
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