Bear hugger anyone?

The nurses were talking about a bear hugger the other day, I learned that in the land of hospitals a 'Bair Hugger' is a warming device. I now realise this kind of makes sense but I wonder if it is concerning that my mind went straight to some sort of bone crusher?

 

I’d say it’s probably a good thing that I am not a medically trained professional. I have been asked a few times while working here if I would consider nursing. Let’s just say the only nursing that I have ever thought of doing would only occur if I am ever blessed with a family of my own.

 

Would you agree that it takes a certain type of person to be any sort health professional? I think at least a certain quality must be possessed. I am not saying I am not a caring person. I probably feel too much. I am those pathetic types, you know that cry at movies, TV commercials and ducks crossing the street – Oh joy they made it alive!

 

Some of you might think that’s normal but I am not, I mean I cry at almost anything: Sad songs, people who sing brilliantly, the YouTube clip where the girl with cancer invites her friends for a photo shoot and they surprise her by all shaving their heads, other people crying - like MaLynne's Outburst in Steel Magnolia , Oliver’s “Because of the life I lead” speech/excuse to Felicity on Arrow , Animal abuse or neglect, ill or sad children,  and pretty much any time I think of my dad.

 

People in the medical field find a way to overcome breaking down when someone is in tears or suffering extreme pain. They no doubt feel it just as much as the next person; obviously, they are human, but they have the ability to compartmentalize it long enough to be useful.

 

I remember when my younger brother came home from school with cut above his eyebrow. It was a long gash, deep red blood poured all over his face. I don’t know how but I managed to keep it together and help him. It was weird, but I somehow became incredibly calm.

 

However, I also remember when I tried to open a bag of dried apricots with a steak knife and managed to cut open one of my fingers instead.

 

It was a pretty deep cut but as my family will tell you, if they can get through the story without laughing, the way the blood came out it looked like we were filming a cheap horror flick in my kitchen.

 

My brother was on the floor, not out of shock or concern for me, no, he was on the floor laughing his head off. Weakened by the bloody sprinkler system squirting out of my vein, I started to feel dizzy. In my, I repeat ‘weakened state’, I may have said something along the lines of “I am losing power” instead of ….pressure? I did mention it was deep cut right?

 

My point is I’d have to wonder if blood was squirting out of my brother’s head instead of pouring out that day if I might have fainted instead of being useful? I don’t know, but I am sure you would agree that I am definitely not nurse material.

 

Come to think of it I make a pretty poor patient too.

After my first and only ever Ski class I decided I was that good that I could keep up with my friends who are pretty much Skiing experts from the age of eight. My CHAOS beanie and I managed to plunge my whole leg and ski into powdered snow. When my friend realised that I wasn’t hysterically laughing and that in fact, I was very much ugly crying, she went for help, even though I begged her not to.

 

I was strapped to a stretcher and hauled off the mountain. The ambulance guys were nice enough to stop near the ski lifts. A crowd gathered, and looked down at me, while I died an excruciatingly slow death of shame.

 

I had torn a ligament and my knee looked like I was wearing a world globe as a knee guard. I just wanted to get up, although felt like I might throw up, I wanted to pretend like nothing had happened.

Looking back I feel a little bad for the ambulance guys. I was in complete flight mode, my only mission was to hobble away and die. Just like that penguin gif that went viral a few years ago, you know the one, where the penguin face plants then gets up as if nothing happened? The ambulance guys were trying to treat me and I was like, nothing to see here...move along. 

I guess this doesn't say a lot of good things about me, basically if you find me injured you should walk away and let me die because if I can't help myself then by god nobody can!

Which brings me back to the bear hugger. Why would you call a warming device something that sounds like its going to hurt you? What kind of sick humour does this equipment naming nut have? 

 

 Imagine lying there (obviously I'd be strapped down being a flight risk and all) and the nurse tells you he/she will be right back with a bear hugger. I guess the threat of crushing my bones is one way to make lay still and cooperate.

 

Hope you are all enjoying your break - till I rant again, thanks for reading.

 

 

 

 

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'Humerus' Observations

The Orthopaedic ward (not to be confused by Orthodontics or Paediatrics) is otherwise known as the bones ward. )

 

 

Did you know the infamous funny bone isn’t even a bone? (GASP) It’s just a nerve that’s not covered by bone or muscle. It’s practically naked, f r e a k i n g   e x p o s e d to the world.  No wonder it hurts like a mother when you bump it. Of course they will tell you that they affectionately named the Ulnar Nerve – The Funny Bone because it’s located near the humerus which sounds ‘humorous’…but reality is…The ‘Funny Bone’ is just a brilliant excuse to laugh (guilt free) at someone else’s pain.

I spend most of my time at work interacting with the nurses, they do a lot of the things that I mentioned in my previous blog, like continuously ask each other if they are OK. If I were a nurse and they kept asking me if I was OK I would have become a valetudinarian within the first week.

“Yeah, I am ok. Wait why? Do I look sick? OMG you are like the third person this shift who asked me if I was ok….I thought I was ok. Maybe I am not. Maybe I should lay down, I don’t feel so well.”

Nurses are a funny lot with funny rituals. One of my favourite is when they assign and announce Key people, specifically nurses, implying of course that the rest don’t matter. So the lesser nurses get back at them by ringing a bell whenever they want to enter the Drug room.  They ring the crap out of that bell, and so they should, pretty sure it’s written somewhere that all nurses were created equally.

They like to confuse us medically untrained personnel by naming equipment with real people’s names.  Richard Splint is not a person, well he was but his name wasn’t Splint it was Volkswagen, no that’s wrong, it was Volkmann. Richard Volkmann invented a splint. I know that because after I spent some time trying to help find this supposed ‘missing’ patient I found out he was an inanimate object. ‘Richard’ was laid out on the counter right in front me the whole time. Well played Nurses…well played.

Next time you are visiting a hospital stand near a ward desk and watch as people check their brains at the door. I am not sure why but I find people are generally under the false assumption that I know who their relative are; I don’t know who you are so how would I know who you are related to?  (Let’s pause to think about that shall we….)

‘I am here to see my grandmother.’

‘Ok…who is your grandmother?’

‘Ellen.’

‘Excellent and who is Ellen? Don’t say your grandmother.’

It is both scary and hilarious how many people do that, or my other favourite is they see my hospital ID and no matter where I am they just come up to me and say a name….

‘John Smith’

‘Hi John’

‘No, I am here to see John Smith’

‘OH’ 

 

I do love this ward, I love this ward as much as I love ice-cream. Nope that’s a lie, let me try again… I love going to work here because there seems to be a cluster of comedic Nurses and Doctors, which makes for a thoroughly enjoyable workplace.  Some are just naturally witty people and others are oblivious to the red ball on the end of their nose.

The other week I asked the Nurse in charge if we were expecting any new patients that night, she answered:

“Yes we have a ‘foot’ coming up soon.”

“Just the foot?” I asked

“Yes, just a foot as far as I know”.

Can you imagine the foot being wheeled in on a bed? The heart monitor clipped to its pinkie.  A tiny little wash cloth being used as a sheet.

They also have a thing about …. What’s a nice way of putting this, bowel movements? It’s not uncommon for them to ask out loud like if they were enquiring about the weather “Has anyone moved their bowels?”

I always feel uncomfortable when they ask that, it’s just such a personal question. I know they don’t want to know if I have but they ask at least twice a night so I feel the need to confess. If I confess perhaps they will get over the topic?

 We had a Russian patient in whose second language was Spanish, English was perhaps his third. He struggled to understand and express himself so I agreed to help translate. You have no idea how weird it is to go up to a total stranger and say “Hi, so when was the last time you pooped?” no preamble just dive in there  up close and personal, muck and all.

Side note: There is even a poop chart with pictures; to be clear, pictures of poo. If that is not obsessive behaviour I don’t know what is.

The team there not only have my sincere affection, they have my complete respect. I like to tell them that the reason for their employment is to entertain me and although they do this brilliantly it is, sadly for me but lucky for all of you, not the case.

They take pride in their work and do their best even in the rare occasions when they are treated with much less respect than they deserve.

If you are ever on that ward because you hurt your humerus or something much worse, keep in mind that while we may always struggle to understand why these nurses are inexplicably obsessed with your faeces, we do know they are all there because they care about people.

Let them do their jobs, be nice, be grateful and remember… although hospitals conjure up fears and emotions that we might not know how to handle, I can tell you with all certainty (no bones about it) those guys are the good guys.

The funny thing about Hospitals....

Hospitals are not normally a place you would think to find humour.  As life would have it I am now employed at the very place that I couldn’t look at for years. I guess life is funny like that. Funny weird not funny ha ha but at the very least I can say I am facing my fears.


I have found it to be a place that has kept me mostly smiling for the past year and it kind of makes sense. I love stories and this place at any one time has at least 700 new stories and that is just the patients. 

I think people who can’t afford to go on back lot tours of their favourite movie studios should grab their kids and go visit a hospital. Honestly I am not saying that everyone there is peculiar looking but I can guarantee you find some interesting characters – especially if you have an imagination like mine.

I worked for a little while in the geriatrics and rehabilitation unit and let me tell you, if they let that place go to hell a little and everyone talked and walked a little slower – you could film a horror movie there no problem.

There are a lot of old timers with missing limbs or worse missing memories.

I was sitting at my desk when this guy in a wheelchair rolls up and stares at me.  This guy had lost both legs but not his smile; so he was automatically rewarded with one from me.

“Hey smiley” he said to me holding out candy, his arm fully extended making sure his offering was as close to my face as possible.  I had just watched him slowly pull out the two offending candies from his pockets. It looked like perhaps they were previously in his mouth or melted, I am no PI but the strings of goo that connected the two lollies suggested my theory was solid.

“Want some lollies?” he asked.

I of course smiled masking my ‘completely grossed out’ face and kindly declined. Then I watched him roll up to the next person and the next person offering them candy. Now I know what you are thinking because I can guarantee you I thought it too, he is the guy from the van!  I wish I had access to the FBI most wanted database. I am pretty sure... it’s very possible that I would get a match if I crossed reference his face against that guy our mums’ warn us about when we were kids. Never take candy from the old man in van kids, no matter how nice he is. It’s him guys.  I know it. ;)

Another night I heard whistling coming from the hallway. I ignored it because I have seen that movie, you know the one where the stupid girl follows the music down the creepy hall. Every time she is surprised to find the serial killer jumping out of the shadows…every time.

I ignored it for the first hour then I kept asking the staff about it, you know as casually as possible…

”Do you hear that creepy whistle?”

“Yeah room nine.” Said one the nurses finding nothing sinister about someone whistling a slow version of Kill Bills ‘twisted nerve'.  

I went to investigate, shut up this was real life, no way there was a serial killer in the dark, unlike in the movies I made sure all the lights were on and waited for one of the nurses to walk in that direction before I walked into room nine.

There sat an old man on his hospital bed, sweaty hair, in need of a shave and just rocking himself as he whistled and stared at the wall. He stopped whistling and looked at me.

I smiled. “Hi, everything ok?” I asked.

He smiled and simply said “Yes”.

I turned around and walked towards my desk, halfway down the hall he starts whistling. I may or may not have run the rest of the way back. I will admit to laughing quietly to myself, what the hell was that? I suspect that the likes of Tarantino and King spend a lot of time in hospitals.

This and their actual pay rate leads me to believe that Nurses are severely under paid. The things they are asked to do and the grief they get in return deserves an internet campaign with the power to crash the twitter verse. They should at very least get a hug after every shift and more money, definitely more money.   Picture washing Mr Whistler and then argue against a pay increase. I dare you. One thing is for sure the Nurses in that unit are salt of the earth. In fact when I am old and demented I hope I get to freak out some Nurses as caring as they are.

They are interesting people Nurses; did you know they call each other sister? I thought it was strange at first, then one called me sister and I said no I am not in a habit……of being called Sister. Get it ‘habit?’ like the nuns wear… no neither did she, I of course laughed.

The amazing thing is that they continuously ask each other if they are OK. “Are you OK sister? Can I do anything for you?” It almost brought a tear to my eye the first time I heard them interact. I am not kidding you, these guys are tight. Can someone tell me what the suicide rate of Nurses are compared to other professions, I suspect with this much support its low. It’s always “Are you OK day” for Nurses.

 

I am in the orthopaedics ward at the moment...talk about funny bones.

TBC

The Long and the Short of it...

The long and the short of it…

It’s a sweltering 33 °C, the sticky gross kind of heat that you do anything to escape. Liz and Darren stand outside their office block waiting impatiently for a semitrailer to finish loading so they can get to their car.

Liz pats dry the sweat above her chin. ‘Of course there is a truck in the way, my face is melting off. I need air-conditioning quick’    She whines to herself. Not caring a snot of how she looks right now she stands at ease fanning her face with her note pad.

 “We have to pick Peter up from the train station and then head to the meeting” Darren who is wearing a charcoal coloured suit, in this weather, breaks the silence remaining statuesque, attempting to ignore the heat wave.

 ‘What?’  “Who’s Peter?” asks Liz straightening up.

 “He is our rep in Darwin; he will be travelling with you to visit clients at the end of the week so be nice” he glances at Liz in warning.

 “Ok, I am always lovely” she mutters frowning “So how long has he been with the company?” ‘What does he look like?’ She wonders.

She imagines Gerhard Butler with his sexy as hell three day growth. She grins; there he is, she can envisage him standing at the train station, a smouldering smile reserved for her eyes only.

His tie loosely sits around the collar of an open white crisp shirt. His shirt suddenly untucks itself and it flutters in the wind showing off his perfect six pack…

 

She shakes her head, who is she kidding? This is HER life, she will be lucky if he doesn’t have a second head growing out of his neck!

 “He joined us five months ago; around about the time you started”

 ‘Oh good a newbie, we are on equal footing’ She muses.

 “Thank Christ” says Darren as the truck drives out of the driveway.

 “Thank Christ” exaggerates Liz as turning up the air-conditioner as soon as he starts the ignition.

Darren drives his silver Lexus to the station. “Do you see him?” he asks absentmindedly.

 “See him? I don’t know, what does he look like?”

I wide cheeky smile creeps over Darren’s face “Tall”

 “Tall?”

 “Really tall” he chuckles.

Liz frowns and chews on her bottom lip looking out the window look for a tall man. ‘Tall’ she mouths and rolls her eyes at the less than helpful description. It could be anybody. Tall compared to what?

After doing a double take on the walking tree shading the rest of the people on the platform Liz finds her words. “Ah so by tall did you mean giant?” her eyes wide and she blinks to ensure her vision is working. He is ridiculously tall. He must be… six foot six? Darren obviously meant tall compared to humankind.

 “Ah yes that would be him” Darren lowers the electronic window “Peter” he waves and quickly raises the screen up again not wanting the cool air to escape.

Peter squints and as he approaches the Lexus Liz notices he looks even lankier up close…and no… he is no Gerhard Butler. What he is - is freakishly tall and way too slim.

He opens the car door and attempts to sit behind Darren. He has to slide in sideways or the other option would be fold his legs up like an accordion.

Darren introduces Liz to Peter; she can’t help but laugh as his knees come up to his chest so she turns around quickly.

 “Err excuse me. You can’t laugh at me..” he points to Liz ironically “Do you even have legs?”

Darren chuckles

Liz pierces Darren with an evil stare and turning her nose up retorts “Yes I have, Thanks very much and enough leg room here to dance if I feel like it” She smiles looking out the window.

Liz angry tweets:

*Great. New guy is a giant. Literally. Fee-fi-fo-fum*

Darren leaves his precious car with the valet. They all gather at the foyer of The Marriot.  As they stand there waiting for Darren to get directions to the meeting room, glances are exchanged, both Liz and Peter mentally size each other up.

 ‘Holy shit this tiny tot must be like five foot nothing?’ Peter gapes at her.

 ‘What is this skyscraper staring at? The Burj Khalifa has nothing on him’ Liz frowns uncomfortably.

In the elevator on the way up to the meeting they both look at Darren feeling slightly irritated as they watch him looks up and then down, then up and then down as he attempts to speak to both of them.

Liz looks up at Peter ‘I can see up his nose. Gross’

Peter looks down at Liz ‘Hope I don’t step on her on the way out’ he smirks.

Darren puts his arm around Liz as they walk down the hall “Remember you got this, I have complete faith in my little ninja”

Liz nods and looks up to catch Peter smirking. ‘The point is ninja not the little part’ she screams in her head.

The meeting ended well, mission accomplished.

 “Let’s go for a drink guys, we kicked ass” Darren has visibly relaxed and now remembers how to breathe.

 “Well I wouldn’t say that, let’s be honest she kicked their ankles” Peter quips

Darren and Peter laugh and Liz does her best to keep a straight face but against her will finds him amusing.

Walking into the bar Peter heads straight to the high bar stools.  Liz realises and quickly suggests a booth near the bar. There is no way she is going to attempt to climb on those in front of them “Let’s sit here, these are much nicer”

Peter catches on quickly and laughs “Not a fan of the high chairs?” he arches his eyebrow

 “Bar stools” Liz corrects him and can’t help but giggle.

Darren and Liz both sit comfortably on one side of the booth while Peter shuffles in to the other side and sits sideways so he is able to stretch his legs.

 “Not a fan of booths?” Liz teases and a broad smile is returned.

 “I am fine with booths but I wonder …can your feet reach the ground?” he narrows his eyes and looks under the table

Liz quickly sits forward placing for feet on the ground “Yes I can” she smiles at him arrogantly.

They all laugh.

After a glass of wine they decide to have a coffee before dropping Peter off at the airport saving him the train ride.

As the waiter distributes the order Liz interrupts him pointing at Peter’s flat white.

“Oh no he didn’t order an espresso shot. He ordered a flat white.” She tells the waiter. 

Then grossly overacting she picks up his cup and says “Oh wait my mistake it’s actually a normal size cup when I hold it”

Peter laughs hard and Liz grins. Darren’s cheeks are red from a combination of wine and the good belly laugh he has been enjoying.

 “So Darren tells me you will join me on my next round of client visits?”

 “Yes, I will be back on Wednesday night”

 “You are flying down?”

 “Of course” Peter nods

“That’s a bit lazy, surely its only two giants steps from Darwin to Brisbane?” Liz smirks

Peter laughs “Oh round two” he holds out his little pinkie which incidentally is the size of Liz’s index finger. Liz cocks her head to one side, unsure of his meaning.

“Come on pinkie high five” He laughs.

Liz tweets:

 *Long and the short of it is….New guy is …just like me *

 

All of us - Short Story

All of us

“You’re my best friend” whispers Diana as a tear rolls down her face.

Still in a state of shock Rebecca asks “That’s what you are upset about?”

“The fact that right now, at my lowest point… I can’t even look at myself… You of all people are the closest thing to a friend….” Diana cannot hide the spite reflecting in her tone.

“I wouldn’t say friend” Rebecca mumbles. She is definitely not her friend. How could she be after all that has been said and done?

“Friend… is the wrong word” Diana looks at Rebecca wide eyed. Suddenly Rebecca laughs at the ridiculousness of the conversation taking place and shakes her head as she can’t help but to sympathize with the woman who has made her life a living hell for the past year.

 

Eleven months ago Rebecca and Neil where jolted out of bed by the lurid sound of a car horn beeping continuously as if it were stuck. The car was parked just outside Neil’s bedroom window.

Rebecca and Neil had finally spent the night together after dancing around each other for months. “For God sake, you two need to get a room” Andrew laughed at Neil the night before.

“What are you talking about?”

“Don’t even try to deny it. You two are driving us all crazy. You both pretend to tolerate the other but the constant fighting and the way you look at each other. That, my brother, is called bloody frustration. You want her so go for it”

Rebecca turns around to face Neil who is sitting up on the bed next to her “Who is that?”

“It’s my ex-wife. She is here to drop off my son”

Neil pulls his jeans on and walks to the front door signally that he will be a minute.

Leaving the front door open he goes back to his room to find a t-shirt.

 

“I’ll just be a second” he says as he leans down and gives Rebecca a chaste kiss. She looks up at him giving him a small smile.

 “What the hell is going on?”  Diana yells standing in the doorway holding on to Nathans hand. Nathan peeks up at his dad under his jet black fringe.

 

Rebecca looks at little Nathan, he can’t be more than four years old. Embarrassed she crawls out of bed and heads to the ensuite.

 

Relieved she is at least wearing Neil’s shirt she slams closed the bathroom door. She leans against it to hear the outburst of vulgarity spearing out of Diana’s mouth towards Neil.

“We are not married anymore Diana, I can do whatever I want” she hears him say.

She then can hear a small voice that must be Nathans but can’t make out what he has said. Whatever it was it has silenced his parents.

 After a few minutes there is a knock on the bathroom door “It’s safe to come out” Neil says in a resigned tone. He jiggles the door knob “Rebecca?”

Rebecca is sitting on the toilet lid looking at the doorknob her hand is covering her mouth. After a beat she gets up and walks out straight past Neil. Collecting her clothes off the bedroom floor she says nothing and listens to Neil explain that he cannot help that his ex-wife is insane.

As she turns around to speak she notices Nathan shyly peeps his head around the side of the door. She needs space to process what has just occurred.

“I will um talk to you later” she glances at him quickly turning away to pick up her hand bag and IPhone.

“Rebecca” Neil pleads

She turns around at the door way and ruffles Nathan’s bowl haircut “Have a great day with your daddy” she smiles. “I’ve got to go”

 

During the following weeks Rebecca and Neil grow very close and she quickly feels herself falling under his spell. Although at times they seem to get on each other’s nerves for the most part they can’t keep their hands off each other.

Rebecca stays out of sight whenever Nathan is being dropped off but she is never going to get used to the vicious yelling that accompanies every visit. Why won’t this woman just go away?

 

Rebecca has parked in their driveway as she unloads the groceries. She is planning a special dinner. A horrible honk makes her almost jump out of her skin and she drops the bottle of shiraz. It smashes and starts to run down the driveway.

“Crap” she says and steps out to see Diana parked behind her.

“Get in” she demands.

Rebecca’s curiosity is her weakness. Getting into the car she is a little nervous but thinks turning points don’t come around often perhaps this is one that can change things for the better.

Diana parks in front of a brick house four blocks away. She shows her text messages, it’s from Neil.

 

*Diana you know I love you too*

Rebecca can’t believe her eyes, he still loves his ex? She begins to cry as they both sit in the car and watch Neil pick up a little girl surely no more than six months old and carry her tenderly in his arms.

“Who is that?” Rebecca whispers

“My sister Lizzy” Diana replies so impassively it chills Rebecca.

‘NO’ gasping she reaches over and squeezes Diana’s hand.

Diana looks at hand and then back up to Rebecca. “He loves all of us. Am I supposed to accept this too?”