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Take Me or Leave Me
Monday, November 17, 2008
Chill Pills
Some people need them. Sometimes, I am some people. Let's talk about the concept of the phrase "Take a chill pill". I think the first person I heard say that phrase may or may not have been Kelly Kapowski on the 1990's super-cheesy sitcom "Saved by the Bell." Exactly what is a chill pill? Webster's Dictionary defines a chill pill as "something calming, relaxing, or reducing stress." To use in a sentence: "Wow, you just yelled at me for one minute straight. Take a chill pill." What a coincidince, I just said that exact sentence in my head to a resident's son yesterday. This man, a retired colonel (just like his father), always greets me with a side hug and a "How's my favorite lady?" when he walks in the door. We often joke. You could say we're good acquaintances. Yesterday, a new CNA was working on this hall- it was her first day passing meds and her first day on that hall. I went in early to pass meds with her. Came time to do rounds, and she went to do them while I finished her meds. After church, about an hour later, Colonel Junior comes in to get Papa Colonel, and Papa Colonel is wet. Because new CNA wasn't aware that Papa Colonel was supposed to have two attends pads on top of his brief. Which is an honest mistake, and a mistake that anyone could make, especially when new to the hall, and a little stressed under the circumstances. So instead of saying "I'm disappointed that my father is wet-" or having a mature adult conversation with me about solving a problem, he goes all "Captain Crazy" on me. Colonel Junior got in my face, and pointed his face a quarter of an inch away from my nose, and yelled and yelled. And yelled. Finally, after insulting me and making a racial slur to my coworkers, I said "you need to cool off" and we all walked out. I believe that he, at that time, needed a chill pill.
I could have used one yesterday too. That little incident got to me all day long, and I have been questioning whether or not I would actually accept an admin job, because I truly hate dealing with those kind of situations. And Alfredo was going to an important meeting, that I was a little stressed about. So, like a silly girl, I call him as soon as I know his meeting is thru. And it went really well. And I was relieved. And then he put his kids on the phone. The 8 year old wants to teach me drums. And he is excited to meet me. He even told me where he lives in case I want to play on a day when he is at his mommy's. Wouldn't that be fun. But after my long day of stress and emotions, I was given a really strong dosage of a chill pill. And I am so grateful for it.
Posted by sarahbrowniz at 12:39 PM 2 comments
Thursday, November 13, 2008
¡Necessito Un Médico!
Which en espagnol means "I need a doctor." I have been neglecting my blog responsibilities. I need to catch up on all the latest words of all my blogging buds, because I have no idea what is going on outside of the last crazy week of my life. I don't mean to be selfish. Just am a little preoccupied. With a man. And boy is he great. The long and short of it is- I have a 37 year old boyfriend- and I think he really likes me! :o) I don't really know what to say, I think about him and I blush. And I know that we have all spent the last years of our friendship making fun of girls like me. But I can't help it! I'm giddy. And today, I bought a set of Spanish scriptures. Because he's teaching me Spanish. And I know that it's all a bit disgusting- and I even feel a little bit sappy- but he's pretty freakin awesome. And I'm pretty freakin happy. I'm just holding on to this rollercoaster I'm on- he's moving a little faster than I'm used to. But he's 37, and he's been married before. And I'm really ok with that. I'm gonna stop now.
Posted by sarahbrowniz at 10:33 AM 3 comments
Sunday, November 9, 2008
Obrigato, Hallelujah!
Brazilian food is good. Argentinian man is better.
Posted by sarahbrowniz at 12:40 PM 3 comments
Thursday, November 6, 2008
Baby's Got Sauce
And his name is Alfredo. Yes, another small entry about this Argentinian amour of mine. He is beatiful. And he got my numba off the schedule and called me for a date yesterday. I had just woken up from a nap, and called Christin, and my call waiting was an unknown number. To my surprise, it was Alfredo. And he asked me if I would like to go out sometime. He said he has never been on a date in America, and he's not sure how its done, but he thought dinner might be nice. So as a result of this fun phone call, he is picking me up Saturday at 7. Three of my favorite things ever said:
"I know I'm a lot older than you, but I don't mind if you don't."
and
"I don't think you're supposed to say over the phone, but I really like you a lot and I want to know you better."
and
"You made my week!"
For the record, he is 37. Not 67. And he has two boys, ages 8 and 6. And he is gorgeous. I would like to advise all readers and friends, find yourself a foreigner. They do things a little bit differently than we Americans. It's kind of nice for a change.
Posted by sarahbrowniz at 3:11 PM 5 comments
Thursday, October 23, 2008
Fanny
Some think of "Fanny" as a nicer word for buttocks. i.e. "Josh, when you're in the car, you need to sit on your fanny and stay buckled in." (Actual sentence said by actual family member) I, until today, have thought of Fanny as Barbra Streisand's character "Fanny Brice" in the beloved musical "Funny Girl." I love that movie. But now, Fanny has new meaning. Fanny is a sweet little old woman of 72 pounds. And she makes my day every day when I go in her room and she sits up and kisses me on the cheek. She's always happy to see me. And I love that. And for the record it's not those kisses that you really don't want. She's a clean lady. And she smells like flowers. All that said, Fanny, I think you're so great. And as I've said before, if there was a way for me to share my weight with you, I totally would. Remember to use your walker. Thank you, Fanny. Thank you.
Posted by sarahbrowniz at 1:58 PM 1 comments
Wednesday, October 22, 2008
I'm workin' heeeah!
To all of you family members of the present and future:
On behalf of the entire health care field, I would like to invite you to contemplate the situation your mother/father may be living in now. I know that you have spent the last 60 years or so with your mother/father. He/she raised you, helped you with homework, made your dinners, made your dress for your high school prom, maybe even walked you down the aisle. No doubt he/she has been your hero over the years, and you want the best for your beloved parent. Believe me, we as health care workers want the same. Let's discuss this idea of "the best."
When Mother turns 93, and sadly, on her 93rd birthday, she has bronchitis and may sound as though a fluid-filled lung may fly out of her throat at any time; her birthday party may not be her first priority. Though I'm sure she kicked her heels up in her day, right now it would be best for her to stay in her recliner and sleep rather than raise a glass to "For She's a Jolly Good Fellow." It's not a personal insult. You are a fine daughter/son. And yes, I'm sure there were far too many dishes to wash and cakes to bake for her to even think about a nap. But trust me, she's tired. And she's 93. It's fine.
Another concern is to the family members considering putting Father on hospice. Hospice is for those who are declining due to serious illness. Serious illness is not, however, forgetting where he put his glasses when he went to bed. His memory may slip now that he's in his 80's. I'm 25 and I forget to turn the stove off sometimes. I'm not on Hospice. It's fine.
My final, yet most crucial concern is that of patience. Yes, breakfast starts in ten minutes. Yes, Mother's aide has not been in to see her. And yes, Mother needs her blood sugar taken before she eats. I know that you see all these things because you have been staying with mother for one month now. But what you do not see is that Mother's aid has been cleaning the remnants of a colostomy bag off the bathroom wall for the last 25 minutes, people in the dining room have been yelling randomly for the last hour that it "cold as hell in here" as I sweat bullets because a woman on Alfredo's hall doesn't want a man to help her so I have to run up and down the stairs every 3 minutes because she forgot her sweater, can't get the tangle out of her hair, her brief is on too tight, and then she forgot to give me a candy bar (but the small size because I "look like I'm watching my weight"); and now I have found the strips for your mother's glucometer after asking 4 times for them-and the glucometer has a dead battery. Yes, Mother needs help. But so do 47 other people in this building- and that is NOT INCLUDING ME. So next time you think to complain to either aide or administrator, remember that these people, your friends in the health care field, usually don't get breaks. We work thru the night, and wake up very early to wipe Mother's butt and make her bed. So though we may look very nice in our coordinating scrubs and our stethoscopes around our necks- remember that today at sometime, for someone somewhere, the shit may literally be on the fan.
Yours Sincerely,
Sarah, CNA
Posted by sarahbrowniz at 1:59 PM 1 comments
Tuesday, October 21, 2008
What goes up must come down.
Oh what a weekend. I have had so many-(yes I am very girly today)- FEELINGS. There's been fear, disappointment, joy, more fear, exhaustion, vulnerability, anger, homesickness, worry, love. . . ah so many. And it's got me tired.
My long awaited trip to Lake Powell with my buddy Chris was this weekend, followed by my trip to Logan. Here's the play by play.
1. Saw Chris.
2. Got flat tire.
3. Jumped off cliff into water and rocks. Missed rocks. Splashed in water.
4. Climbed lots of rocks in flip-flops.
5. Saw boats and got sun.
6. Noticed something I wish I didn't.
7. Got flat tire.
8. Ate good food.
9. No sleep-due to hard cement and large hips.
10.Drove home in not 5 hours, but 8.
11.Said goodbye to Chris.
12.Went to good fireside which reminded me of my conversion.
13.Drove to Logan.
14.Saw old friends whom I miss very much.
15.Sang at work.
16.Talked to now awkward old boss Paul.
17.Saw Ada.
18.Cried.
19.Drove home to Sandy.
20.Cried some more.
And in all this emotional rucous- I worked with aforementioned Alfredo, who showed me a picture of his kids and told me that he was divorced. And one of the cute spanish ladies said "Aw so he availabulll!" and I wanted to crawl under the desk, and then pull him under with me. Oh I'm so horrible. He has a 6 yo and 8yo boy- and their names are. Wait for it. Moroni and Jacob. Now I've always found that to be a little ridiculous, but I will excuse it because he's from Argentina. And he was all "proud father"-like. And now I feel the need to cry again. Damn these hormones. And damn these men. Well, only the ones whom I mentioned
