10.) Breaking in a new pair of Dansko clogs...exciting
It is so much more sexy than wearing heels or various other fashionable shoes that one may wear to an office job, a firm meeting or a lunch date. The thick european sole on occasion, will catch the sticky linoleum floor often causing a motion that looks similar to, but is not quite, 'tripping'. Shoe envy has never killed a woman...it makes me want an office job or inspires me to be a super model. Could you imagine a nurse in stilettos? It might just happen.
9.) Bottles of Melatonin so we meet again...
That little white bottle is becoming my closest companion. The nightmares and bizarre happenings that accompanied me during my last stint as a night nurse weren't life shattering enough to drive me from the stuff but I have tapered from the mega 5 mg tablets to the more subtle 2.5 mg sub-linguals. I find the drowsiness has less interference on my day-to-day and the quick dissolve makes me wish I would have invented sublingual medication. Brilliant. A girl has to sleep sometime.
8.) You can leave the hospital at shift change, but the hospital can never leave you...
Or something like that. At first, I thought my multiple run-ins with patients on the streets was because I lived a mere 4 blocks from the hospital. I would wake to Mr. Sanchez urinating in our flower beds then flicking his cigarettes butts on our steps, or Senora Chavez buying milk at the corner market. One time while walking down the street, Mr. Abdominal-Pain Every Day, called out for someone to call an ambulance. To the casual walker on the street, an immediate dialing of 9-1-1 would have been instinctual. For the nurse that deals with bullshit chronic pancreatitis on an hourly basis from people who drink liters of vodka daily, called his bluff. Is this what people call an 'edge'?
Then I moved miles and miles from the hospital. I guess no matter how far I distance myself, the fact that San Francisco is a city 7 miles by 7 miles will never change. Just last week I saw Mr Krohn stumbling the charming strip on Polk st. He is horrendous while intoxicated; mean, angry, temperamental at best. It can be quite amusing. I laugh after I cry. When he sobers up, I want to put him in my pocket and carry him with me at all times.
And then there is Ms. Bell, who was sighted the other day after lunch. Completely hammered midday on a Tuesday. The sad thing about her is that when she is not in her manic phase, her normality is frighteningly parallel to my own reality.
The scene goes as follows...
With thick black eye-liner leaking down her cheeks, an over sized black leather jacket draping her frail malnourished frame and the un-febreezible scent of stained urine on her clothing, Ms. Bell is wheeled into Trauma Room 2 for a complete evaluation for her witnessed fall. She was too drunk to stand on her own, so she fell over and landed on her head. The cement caught first sight of the occipital region and then gracefully maneuvered to her parietal leaving a notable laceration. Patients in this state of disarray are usually quite combative and aggressive. (I often dodge punches and/or spit wads right about now.) But Bell was as peaceful as ever. Lying still in the gurney. Refraining from calling me a 'cunt-bag whore who can go fuck herself!" (eye muffs for the youngens, I know this is a family friendly blog) verbatim from our last interaction.
I mentioned how I had never seen her this calm before. She started yapping about the business of the ER, and how she used to be a nurse herself and knows the trials and tribulations of what it takes to work in such a stressful environment but somehow the mental illness got the best of her and now here she is, on her 7th visit to the white halls this month, heading towards her 4th Cat Scan all while lays a fifth of gin in her backpack. I was taking it with a grain of salt as one must in my line of work. You can not be played a fool. And the ER is no place for the naive...as I am quickly learning.
Me: Do you take any drugs?
Patient: Yes.
Me: What kind of drugs?
Patient: I inject heroine. Mostly skin pop. I smoke crack. And special K.
Me: Skin pop? Special K? What's that?
Patient: (blank stare)
Oh that silly grain of salt.
Ms. Bell continued to tell me that she was from Chicago, graduated as a BSN and worked at Northwestern. Well that certainly rang my bell. All of a sudden the room jumped 25 years in time and I saw myself lying in the gurney, in her exact position, makeup caked on my face from the previous nights party, two head injuries away from permanent brain damage, recalling the memory of my "nursing days", apologizing to staff and the like, that the smell of urine was from my inability to squat properly in between two cars to pee, and if someone could heat me up a bologna sandwich and give me a bus token on discharge, I would refrain from cursing their name out the door and falling asleep in the waiting room.
My annoyance quickly simmered to compassion as I realized that mental illness is such a tragic reality. How sad. She was once a someone like you and me. A working contributor to society. And a nurse of all things. I would have pinned her differently. It made me wonder about the others. What was their life story before all the drugs, alcohol and the liberal appeal of San Francisco hit them like a plummeting pile of pebbles?
7.) Interning at UCSF in the Women's Health Research Center...
I am phone recruiting women and men for a study that looks at the metabolic syndrome and whether or not therapeutic stretching and yoga can help decrease pre-diabetic stages in over- weight americans. I have keys to an office so it makes me feel important. I get all sorts of passwords to computer systems that confuse me and the security guard Lou and I have become quite close. By close I merely mean he swipes his security badge so that I can get up to the 6th floor after hours and he rolls his eyes at me when I interrupt his nap to do so. I like it because it is the opposite of clinical. The only thing I touch is the phone. No gurney pushing, no CPR, no monitors to hawkeye or medication to give. I just listen to fat people tell me how much they weigh and how little they exercise. My gateway to Graduate school.
6.) I have discovered that I am the opposite of a slut...
While sipping tea and reading The Red Tent, a book about womanhood, sister bonding and the bible (I'm not lame) in a cafe last week, I overheard 3 ladies chatting. One was telling a story about her date on Friday. She got all dressed up and went to dinner with this guy, he paid and she put out. He had to work early in the morning so couldn't stay the night. Instead of staying home and daydreaming about the next date, she goes to a party where she subsequently hooks up with another dude. I was shocked. 2 hook ups, 1 night.
After judging her a tramp for a solid fifteen minutes, my thoughts went from How dirty! to How Impressive! as I haven't even had 2 hook-ups the entire year. I closed my book. How does she do it? Where can I learn? What literature does she read? Oh, I bet she has STD's.
5.) I crave Brussel Sprouts...
I know, and you thought I couldn't get lamer. But seriously. It is like I have been taken over by the little vegetable that is identical to a mini cabbage. I often wake up to my cheeks salivating with the consideration that I may eat them at some point in the day. I just can't get enough. We made them for thanksgiving which was the first I had tasted the divine sprout in years. And now, I have eaten them for dinner 24 out of the last 38 days...and plan on making some tonight. Co-workers are no longer surprised to see (and smell) sauteed brussels in my tin lunch pale. They just look at me and say "Really? Again?" But I just can't help it. Addiction is a curse and when I lay to rest to take my final breath, I wish to be cremated with a heaping scoop of them and scattered across the land so that my complete infatuation will grow with each new crop of the delicious and succulent Brassica Oleracea. My roommates cringe each time I remove the bag to prepare yet another serving as they despise all vegetables. I simply explain to them if I do not get my fix, there could be a seriously unhappy bitch that explodes from my person. You don't want that boys...back away from my cast iron pan.
Here is how I make them:
One skillet (preferably a non-Teflon one as I don't want you to die from poisoning)
Olive oil or Ghee (clarified butter)
Brussel sprouts sliced in half
Salt
White wine vinegar
Turmeric (optional of course but your joints will be thanking you for the anti-inflammatory effects)
Heat the oil in pan until it is real hot. Drop precious sprouts into pan. Stir around until they start to brown. DO NOT OVER COOK. DO NOT UNDER COOK. Salt while hot. Scoop into bowl. Drizzle vinegar. Dollop of turmeric. And Voila...savor a masterpiece.
4.) Getting the itch to travel...
No matter how much I scratch it though I am certain this will never go away. I can't believe that I have been in San Francisco for almost a full year. ALMOST A FULL YEAR. It is asinine. Per my mom, my North Node destiny has me coming into this life as a wanderer and exiting as a home body ready to grow roots. My karma for the 'now' is to balance what I want, what I know and what I need. The problem...I want it all. I want to be settled and see friends and spend time with family and have a husband and some kids who grow up with their Grandma and know there Uncle Charlie and their Aunt Sam, while carpooling and hosting weekly book clubs. But I also want to bike from Cairo to Cape Town, run a marathon in Europe, write a book in South America, learn French and Swahili in the Congo, eat fresh seafood in New Zealand while bungee jumping from ridiculous heights, break bread in Jerusalem and drink tea with old men in Turkey. I can not be stopped now...I will not be stopped now.
3.) I love my hot sauna...
My apartment is located directly on the panhandle, in the best neighborhood in San Francisco. I am a paltry 20 steps from the stunning Golden Gate Park which offers an oasis of quasi urban living with scents of eucalyptus, every array of pine and stinky marijuana. I shack up with two amazing French men who make me laugh and teach me funny words at breakfast. Our ceilings are high, our doors conveniently French as well and the lack of carpet makes me pet the hardwood floors in adoration. But it wasn't just the location, nor the open and large kitchen, nor the 2.5 bathrooms that made us sign our year to a man named Stuart.
It was the sauna.
Yes. I have a sauna in my room. It is real. It is warm. It is amazing. In the comforts of my own home, I can step into a handcrafted, cedar-benched sauna that makes me sweat bullets all sans other naked women. I crank the dial to ten and each time I enter I make myself stay until I feel my heart beat in my head. Not really but if I die from overcooked internal organs, you will know why. It is the best after a long run, strenuous yoga class, in between TV shows, right before a shower, right after a shower, before bed, when I wake up, after laundry, before laundry...are you getting my point? What it really offers is clarity and reassurance to why I signed a year lease when I obviously have commitment issues. Who wants to come visit me?
2.) The 2010 Arbor Push... http://www.arborcollective.com/snow/boards/view/47/push
Just a little present to myself after my ten year old P.O.S snowboard binding snapped in half at the top of Great Western on my second run. The mountain air had hardened the plastic leaving it vulnerable to my deft-less gloves and freezing the right binding solid. I couldn't undo my right foot. We marched right to REI where I made a very expensive decision. The Arbor Collectives are amazing. Made from sustainable Poplar wood for women who surf mountains.
As the very helpful Nate was mounting my bindings, I started getting nervous that I was making an impulse buy.
Me: Do you think it is weird that the there is a green skull graphic on the front of this board? (my hand strokes the shiny surface)
Nate: No, I think the little birds make it less death-y. It evens out the gothic-ness.
Me: Really? Are you sure people won't think I am a lover of death?
Nate: Yeah, no one is going to be like "oh that girl is a death lover because she has a scary, strange green skull on her snowboard."
Me: I hope you are right Nate.
First run on the beauty is next week at Tahoe!
1.) In with the new, out with the old...
It is the most typical sentence this time of year. It makes sense right? Each December 27th-ish people begin the reflection of the past 12 months. 2009 fared to be a year that most people would like to give two middle fingers to. I didn't particularly love it, but I didn't hate it either.
A recap:
I started exploring meat recently as I was on a little 8 year hiatus from the stuff, and discovered some of it isn't half bad. Still can't stomach chicken but Moms elk chili is delicious. I switched jobs yet again offering a new variety of learning experiences while hand delivering me about 70 new friends. I tried to stay in one place for a while and look...I did it. I made out with one person. That certainly must change in the coming year. My hair is recovering from the horrible cut I received in November of 2008. I have read a lot of books. I attempted a mini-triathlon but never made it to the start line because K.C.'s mom went into Cardiac Arrest. I started getting manicures and pedicures frequently. I decided to never deny myself anything. I fell in love with the city by the bay. I started rock climbing. My eyes got worse.
My NYE was spent at work, so I rang in the new with Mr. Schwartz; a 33 year old man who got arrested for public intoxication. While sitting handcuffed in the back of the paddy wagon he hit his forehead on a corner creating trauma for the 911. When I unwrapped the gauze, there was a puncture hole that spurted blood like a sprinkler. He was rolled into a room, blood oozing down his cheek, spilling from his mouth and staining his nice gray suit fifteen minutes before midnight would strike. When he smiled, his gums were lined with dried blood. He was obnoxious and inappropriate as he undressed from his gown multiple times and wandered the hospital hallway in his boxers. He was so confused that he rose from his bed, dismantled his IV pole and carried it into his neighbors room as he was asking for water. While drawing his blood, his fingers crept up my arm and began tickling it as if he was seducing me or as if he knew me well. "Oh, Your so sexy Jamie Dwyer RN Special Emergency Nurse (as my badge reads)...your so sexxxxxxy." I couldn't help but laugh. It was pretty hilarious. But then I stopped laughing and remembered that I really need to block out my last name. It was funny seeing this totally unattractive, half conscious man, covered in dark red blood hit on me as if we at a bar and not in a hospital discussing his possible intracranial bleed. It was the most flattering conversation I have had in a long time. Happy New year...may the schwartz be with you.
Sometimes patients like that make me hate my job. It is annoying. But then sometimes they make me love it. Last night I had a 91 year old man named Frank who had fallen down 16 stairs and lost consciousness. He was missing his right index finger but had a smile that lasted a mile. He was disoriented while he stood tall in front of the desk, dropping his soggy diaper to his ankles and began peeing in a plastic urinal all while talking about the veterans hospital. We watched and instead of calling for reinforcements from the police staff per usual, we sighed at his cuteness. He had served in WWII, had lived in France and had fallen in love with a woman named Jackie from Finland. As I rolled him to the CT scan he divulged his life story. I got teary eyed when he told me he never got married and never had kids...just fell in love with many women. He was adorable and I hugged him when I discharged him home.
So, in with the new, out with the old. I haven't made any resolutions this year but I have a slight idea which direction I want my life to head. More writing, less analyzing. More time with friends, less time online. In with the Brussel sprouts, out with anything not brussel sprouts.
I hope 2010 brings light and happiness to all the fans of Blind Karma :)
