Sick

I watched this documentary about Bob Flanagan about ten years ago, but The Partner had never seen it, so this afternoon we headed out and got our hands on a copy from Le Video. The whole experience of the film, for me, has been totally recontexualized. What's different now than then? I now believe it should be requisite viewing for all nursing students. Not into S&M? Can't really deal with someone driving a nail through his penis? Tough. Sit through this movie if you want to know what it is like to have a chronic illness and if you want to know what it's like to die. As a nurse or future nurse, it's important. Allied with some of Flanagan's pain journals, it can really provide a window. We just have to be willing to peer through it.

As for my mom, who I think reads this blog from time to time, you definitely don't need to see it.

Indachshunation

On the lookout for a new dog. We have suffered through months of trying to find just the right kind, size, demeanor, temperament -- one that The Kid will quickly warm up to. Guess what it's gonna be? "Another Dachshund huh? Well, you guys have kind of embraced being wiener dog owners, and I'm sure you still have a cookie cutter that is a wiener."

So, if you hear of any dachshunds for sale. Let me know.

That's Sammy, above with The Kid, circa 2003, Western Addition, SF.
~Comment provided by my comedic and lovable little sister.

You're a MEPN? Be a DIVA!

Still suffering from the group-think exercise known as indoctrination to the medical model of cultural competence, I was interested to see a former colleague from my doctoral days featured in this article*. It's about UCSF's DIVA program. Who knew this program even existed? Certainly not I, and I've been with this institution since I was barely out of my teens. Well, not only does it exist, but it's headed by the socio-cultural issues in health care instructor, as well as the much respected Howard Pinderhughes. I have some reservations about the article, even though I understand what its trying to do. My sense is that the way to the heart of this problem is not through the individual and his/her experience, as the informal "research" that the program is based upon suggests. It is, in fact, where the whole issue tends to fall apart. But, we can't do much about that, so, for the time being, MEPNs should pay attention to the article and hopefully, one of you will get involved with the DIVAs. They need some students to contribute his/her real-world experience (outside of nursing and outside of anthropology/sociology) and to give allied feedback about our clinical and classroom experience. It's worth it. Even if you have to belong to a group with the world's stupidest name.

*The publication is not yet available online; I will provide a link when it becomes avialable. If you're affiliated with the university, you should have recevied Science of Caring Volume 20, 2 in the mail last week. Check out the article entitled Seeking Diversity Deeper Than Numbers, pp 11.

My Honey Bear

The Kid told me recently that he thinks he's going to be reincarnated as a kinkajou. Not to worry, says he, "you'll be the mama kinkajou. That's how reincarnation works."

Beware

That's right... another Bonnie Prince Billy album is due to be released March 2009. Guests include Leroy Bach, Jim Becker, Jon Langford, Greg Leisez, Rob Mazurek, Nicole Mitchell and Azita Youssefi.

That news pretty much made my day.

Is it the Sea is a live album that was released in September, way more worthwhile than the "more accessible, less academic", Lie Down in the Light. I haven't officially reviewed it, basically because I was wildly disappointed.

Oh well, here's to a new album/ new year.

Translation of My Life

I remember the past.
Before there were poems.
I was eight. The world
simple as a primer.
I lived in a small town
far from the ocean.
Home, then school,
then home again,
back and forth
on my blue bicycle...
There are photographs,
yellow and crumbling,
to prove what I say.

...Understand, I was only a girl
living the days as they came.
I did not know then I would leave.
Though I had a secret
I did not tell and will not ever,
I did not know I would leave.

By Elizabeth Spires
abridged

Iraq in Fragments

If you see one independent film this year, this should be it.
The three part documentary by Seattle's James Longley is clearly made by a filmmaker with a story to tell. Forgoing the role of the "neutral" participant observer, always a moral dilemma, Longley makes no bones about his intention to convey a very clear point-of-view. Whatever your perspective on that approach, it makes for a pretty powerful movie.

From Salon.com's Andrew O'Hehir: "Alone among the works I've seen and read about Iraq in the last three years, Iraq in Fragments captures the tremendous complexity and variability of the country, offering neither facile hope nor fashionable despair. It offers no prescriptions, and the ideology you bring to the film may well determine what you see in it. If it has a lesson for Americans, it might be: We bloodied our hands in this place. Before we try to wash them off and walk away, we owe these people the respect of seeing them as they are."

Naked Clown Calendar

Speaking of clowns... this, I hate to say, was a terribly bad idea, even if it is for a really good cause.
Buy the calendar if you're really into that kind of thing... or for someone you dislike... or if you just want to instill some deep coulrophobia in an ex-friend or lover. Actually, please support the Judy Finelli Fund. Just burn the calendar after - or use it for a gag gift or something.

*What ever happened to the clowns of yore?

Stop Clowning Around!

Did you see this article in the New York Times about the clowns teaching nursing students about bedside manner? Really. The idea and article both would have been worthwhile had the journalist not decided to refer to all nurses as "women" and had it not insisted that nurses need to figure out that their job is about more than "bedpans and blood samples". Thanks. Nothing like a few stereotypes to ruin a good idea. Another opportunity for nursing and circus to come together, wasted.

*On a more uplifting note, I hear from Nurse Z. that Nurse K. is a natural on the flying trapeze, so maybe there are more chances for the nursing-circus union yet to come!

Bubo Virginianus

Yesterday, Tennessee Valley, dusk: great horned owl. Awesome.

Citizen Cyborg

I was unexpectedly wrangled by the last few days of classes. The socio-cultural class knocked the wind out of my sail and I'm in some sort of recovery period (a.k.a. funk). Anyway, I forgot to mention this nice, brief interview with Donna Haraway that appeared in The New Scientist. Although she's talking about her favorite new-ish subject, the companion species, I think it relates nicely to the fore mentioned conundrum that continues to wrench my gut.
Eh. Enjoy.

"It's a deep pleasure being one among many living and dying creatures, and to understand that walking away from human exceptionalism is as much a relief from carrying on a kind of impossible fantasy as it is a burden to take on."

School Daze

Last night The Partner was helping The Kid fill out an application for an after school activity. They were discussing the gradation system at The Kid's school because, in good Berkeley hippy fashion, the school has "integrated groups" in lieu of "grades" -- always a real confusion for children when someone asks "So what grade are you in this year?"

"So you're in the upper group.. what grade do you think that is?"
"Well, it would be the 4th grade in a normal school, but my school is not normal."
"How do you mean?"
"Well, I wouldn't call it a school really... it's more like a Peace Sanctuary."

Will Says

"The first song that I remember dealing with death in a pretty direct way was "Ebony Eyes". When I was four or five, I listened to the Everly Brothers over and over again, acting out all the songs with the little plastic figurines I got for my birthday, and that was the last song on the record. I could tell that it was a sad song, but I didn't have any idea how sad. It's still something that I value a lot; music that gets in there. If I'm wondering about death and scared about life, then to find some song that addresses it is like, 'Well, if you feel that way the best thing might be to either obliterate consciousness, or to destroy yourself completely....' That's not the kind of music that I like to listen to. But if someone deals with the end of conscious existence in such a way that they're not just trying to ruin your day with it, then it can be pretty great."

Lions & Bobcats & Lynx

Oh my!
We've been hiking the Tennessee Valley at night in the hope of catching sight of the elusive bobcat that we were lucky enough to spy last year. The crypto black leopard sightings got me thinking that, hey, not everyone knows the difference. Here are a few photos to differentiate. The photograph of the Canadian lynx is a flickr image by David Cartier.

The bobcat picture is actually from Tennessee Valley.











The mountain lions are from the November 7th Daily Interlake, the local newspaper in Kalispell, MT. Apparently there is a bit of a familiar stand-off between the mountain lions and the ranchers (hungry lions eat ponies, the occasional small dog, goats) and so the long arm of the law, aka the 30-30 Winchester, has been at work.

I Am Become Death

The number of nuclear warheads in the US, according to a 2002 report from the Natural Resources Defense Council, Nuclear Weapons Databook Project is 10,600 (7,982 deployed, 2,700 hedge/contingency stockpile). The amount of plutonium still in those weapons is 43 metric tons.

Watch The Day After Trinity and Kuroi Ame and then ask yourself why.

"I remember the line from the Hindu text, The Bhagavad Gita: Now, I am become death, the destroyer of worlds."
- Robert Oppenheimer, The Day After Trinity

Cryptozoology: Bay Area Black Panther

As of late hikers around these parts claim to be seeing a black mountain lion wandering around hills and trails. So reports Berkeley resident, L.S.:

"I was curious about EBMUD's protected watershed off Redwood Road in Castro Valley, so I obtained a permit and checked it out . . . I decided to navigate into the gully, walked maybe 30 or 40 feet to the east and suddenly found myself locked eyes with this big black cat. It was roughly 50 feet from me, through several barriers of logs and overgrowth. The first thought is that it looked like a panther, but the weird thing is that sort of animal should be in Africa, not the East Bay. It was so out of place."

What to make of that? This is why I love cryptozoology, because of the relationship to urban legends where the formulation thereof can so easily be tied to other things going on in the world that are freaking people out. Ever see the Legend of Boggy Creek? Check it out and keep in mind the locale and historical relationship to the civil rights movement.

The skinny from our friends at Cryptomundo is that the black bobcat tale is persistent, particularly in the south. They also provide us with the black lynx crypto quote of the day:
"If you see a big black critter in the woods, it’s probably a Labrador retriever - or maybe a wild hog."

*The photograph is of a black jaguarundi, found in Mexico, Central and South America.

Election Night Recap, Courtesy of The Kid

The Kid's take on election night, part of a weekly homework assignment:

On Election Day I went to school and then after school I went to a poll. Then I went home, got a football and played some football and then at dinner I was watching the election off the computer. And then we were watching the state of red and blue and the blue basically took over the country so I was like, “Obama really won?” in my head. And then my parents told me that it was starting and I was like, “What’s starting?” and they told me that it was the concession speech. And in the concession speech I saw McCain talking and saying that Obama would be a good President to us and then Obama came out on stage and gave a speech and at the beginning of that speech he said that they were bringing a puppy to the Whitehouse. That’s the thing I’ll probably always remember.

I saw a bunch of people crying and cheering. And me and my family were very happy. And then when I went to bed I heard fireworks. And then when I woke up and I was driving to school the next day I heard the front page of the New York Times (we have a subscription to the New York Times) was worth $140.00!

What does Obama need to work on?

1. The economy: It’s not making any money.
2. Manufacturing: We need more jobs.
3. Prop 8: There should be gay marriage.
4. Warfare: They need to stop the war in Iraq.
5. Racism: We have a new race of President but that might change things up a bit.

Who can help Obama?

1. Galen: Because he’s a smart kid.
2. Biden: Because he’s a politician.
3. Weird Al: Because he knows a lot of stuff.
4. Brian Jacques: Because he knows how to stop warfare.
5. Xiao Hong: Because he can get through about anything.

Walking the Cervix

So, have you heard of the posterior cervix that needed a walk...Alright, seriously.
Friday, Dr. M. had to do a pelvic exam on our L&D patient, 2 weeks post dates, to determine whether the cervidil was working to ripen her cervix. The problem? He couldn't find it.
So here we sit, mom with Dr. M's fingers inside, he, looking off in the distance, strangely, like he had been taken over by some alien mind control. After minute three, I'm beginning to feel uncomfortable and start burning holes in the side of his head with my gaze.
"So", says nurse J., also bedside, "feeling anything there Dr. M.?"
"Well, it's a 2... no a 3... maybe a 2," still hypnotized.
Nurse J. waits for maybe another 2 minutes, "So it's a 2/3??"
He withdraws. Talks nervously and red-faced about the amazing disappearing cervix.
The fact is, at this point, how accurate do we need to be?
And hasn't Dr. M. heard of walking the cervix, wherein when a cervix is remarkably far back (especially an issue for a first time mom) one can find the edge of cervix, placing one's finger inside and gently move it forward?
Seems better than mining for it.

Share and Share Alike

"Wouldn't it be neat if when we had a baby we got twins?" asks The Kid.
"Yep, that would be neat."
"Yeah, and when they grow up they could try out each others' boyfriends or girlfriends."

??

Chamois Pants

An expectant mom called L&D this week wanting to know whether or not to come in for admission:

"I think my water has broken."
"What makes you think so?" asks the admitting nurse.
"There was wetness between my legs."
"How much."
"I don't know how much."
"Was it more or less than a teaspoon?"
"What kind of teaspoon?"
"A standard teaspoon."
"Well, all teaspoons are different."
"Um....what?"
"All teaspoons are different!"
"...O---kay. Were your pants wet?"
"Well, I was wearing these special pants."
"Special pants?"
"They're a special material. They're made of a kind of wicking material."
"A wicking material? So are you saying they were or were not wet?"
"I'm saying I don't know because the material wicks away moisture."
Another nurse turns to me an says: "Chamois pants?"

Goodbye, Sweet Friend

Sprout Wings and Fly

"'They tell me you're master of the old time fiddle'. I said, 'Now, mister, they ain't nobody mastered the fiddle. Ther's notes in that fiddle ain't nobody found.' I said, 'Ther's music in that thing that'll be there when Gabriel toots his horn.'"



You can watch Sprout Wings and Fly along with a documentary featuring Tommy Jarrell's sister entitled Julie: Old Time Tales of the Blue Ridge.
Here's a preview.

Mufinn Mann

While I was on the telephone with my mom, I received this note from The Kid.

Tat-B-Gone

Today's assignment: tattoo removal clinic. The process is not as magical as it sounds: it's not painless and it doesn't exactly "remove" the tattoo. In fact, immediately after treatment, the outline of the tattoo actually becomes edematous and is thus more prominent and reddened. The surrounding skin becomes inflamed, apparently with the sensation of having been burned. Eventually, after several treatments, the tattoo fades - sometimes completely. Other times, there is a shadow, scar, hypo or hyper pigmentation. One guy who was having treatment on six (6!) tats revealed where another of his tattoos had been, and there was no sign. So, it works, depending on a person's skin integrity, the quality of the tattoo (do-it-yourself = yikes!) and the immune system. The way it works is that a laser sends short impulses of light into the epidermis; the light is absorbed and breaks the pigment from the ink in the tattoo into smaller particles that can be removed by the immune system. Varying wavelengths are used in order to deliver the best possible ink removal.

Basically, it's a great service. It serves a lot of former gang members and a lot of guys who took penknives and fountain pens to themselves in juvie. The docs take off a lot of neck and face tattoos. (Ouch!) I should mention that I was even allowed to be zapped for three seconds, just to have the true anthropological participant-observer moment. I went "cold" (no lidocaine) and the laser was, of course, set much lower than for the tattoo removal. Also, not having the ink in my skin prevented the pain that ensues from the ink's dissipation into the skin and the macrophagic action. When I was zapped by the laser myself, it was like being burned by spattered, hot cooking oil. The difference for me than for those having their tattoos removed? I had no relationship to the freckle being removed from my arm, while these kids have a whole lifetime of experience related to the tattoos that they wear. Tattoos, traditionally a symbol of belonging and the renunciation of the self to the group, are symbolic to the wearers in more ways than I could possibly understand. The choice to have the tattoos removed demonstrates a degree of humility that is above and beyond my comprehension. Having a tattoo removed is more about loss than about renewal. It took some serious strength for those kids to be there.

Unnatural Childbirth

On my way out of the hospital on Friday I stepped into the elevator with a woman, maybe twenty-five years old, she was holding a manila envelope to her chest and weeping. She turned to me and said “It feels like tugging…” I asked, “What does?” She replied “That tugging here” and touched her breasts. “They feel heavy like they do when I feed her…my baby.” I said, “Yeah, that’s totally normal.” She sobbed and said, “No, you don’t understand. CPS took her away. They told me she’d be here today and I just got out and came for her, but they took her away already.” They lied.

I told her, “It will work out for you, and for her, in the end.”

I guess I lied, too.

and I will align myself with nothing...

I had been struggling with my clinical specialty until my community health clinical instructor who was been a L&D nurse for 10 years said to me, "I don't see the predicament. Sometimes, you can't tell the difference between a birth and a death. I've been at plenty of births where I was like 'was that a death?' and plenty of deaths where I was like 'was that a birth?'"

Drawing by Karlynn Jayne Holland.

...and I will enjoin my heart with no-one's
cause I was untried
when I was applied the light of birth.
- "Patience" Royal Stable Music 1997

I Keep My Horse At Stable Will's

After missing Bonnie Billy in Big Sur last weekend, we got a free shot today at the Hardly Strictly Bluegrass festival. We also ran up on him quite unexpectedly on our way out. Come to find out he's an artist in residence at the Headlands Center for the Arts. This means a chance to recompense for the lost concert. Anyway, thanks to Will for fulfilling expectations and being something quite other than a typical musician/ performer. Thanks for walking a different line.

Red, White & Blue

After a sad beginning of the week, there is some kind of magic in knowing it is snowing on Mars.

Swamp Girl

"She is a legend. She is a myth. She is Swamp Girl. Growing up on the Okefenokee, abandoned by her parents, Swamp Girl was raised by a black man she calls Pa. Trouble reins for Swamp Girl when another girl who happens to be a psycho prison escapee and her boyfriend force Swamp Girl to be their local Swamp guide. Things get nasty when Swamp Girl battles Convict Girl in an all out catfight." That, a little Ferlin Husky crooning, and more bad ass snakes than you can shake a stick at, makes for fine Sunday night respite.

We do indeed have the double feature including Swamp Country (1966), which we've saved for a rainy day. Sadly, we missed out on the extra added attraction, Swamp Virgin (1947). What gives?

Sweet Can

Sweet Can is performing this weekend in Fremont. $25 for adults, $15 for kiddos. Totally worth it, even on a student budget. Tickets here. Check it out.

Community Health

So, one of the great things about MEPN is the community rotation. Today I learned that as a part of my placement I will not only be doing immunizations for the flu season, but also in-home prenatal Hep B screening, communicable disease education and screening, and we will all participate in a countywide bio-terrorism drill where we will perform "drive-by" immunizations of thousands of police officers and fire fighters. (And we have to be deputized to do this. Yes!) We also have the opportunity to volunteer for free tattoo removal and/or perinatal education for low-income families. As a part of our concurrent L&D rotation, we have 12 hours on the floor, and the option to volunteer in the NICU or at the Women's Option Center. That, and a pretty laid back academic quarter, makes us all happy.

Is That a Clown in Your Pocket...?

There was an article in the NYT last Thursday about Clown Conservatory founder, Jeff Raz. I love the clowns. But this article was one of the more absurd, placing clowning in cahoots with psychoanalysis by way of desocialization. And here is where I run screaming from the room... “Working on clown is in vogue right now," says Dody DiSanto, director of the Center for Movement Theater in Washington. Working on clown? Does that sound, um, dirty to anyone else? Here are some of the workshop names for those of you looking for a little clown action*:

DYNAMICS OF CLOWN PARTNERING
DISCOVERING THE CLOWN
ENSEMBLE ADVENTURES IN CLOWN
BOUFFON. THE ANTI-CLOWN

*AKA get your clown on, a phrase I am working on popularizing.

Festina Lente

Classes start up again tomorrow and rather than fight the pace of the program I have decided to just alter my approach and perspective: to make haste, slowly.

Hillbint on Destruction

Can I just offer that if the new GOP vice presidential candidate wants to be taken at all seriously, she's going to need some lessons in diction. That, or maybe I can make some money when I publish the Sarah Palin Diction-ary.




"wey" (i.e. All the wey up here in Wasilla.) = way
"dint" (i.e. Oh no he dint.) = didn't
"hill" (i.e. I know hill make a fine president.) = he'll or hell, see "bint"
"bint" (i.e. Hillbint) = bent
"impordend" (i.e. The Bush Doctrine is really impordend to me.) = important

Cigarettes & Mustache Wax

Yesterday morning on the ride to school, The Kid wanted me to feel his chin to see if he had suddenly begun to grow a beard.
"Nope," I said, "no beard yet... why do you want a beard?"
"I don't," said he, "I want a mustache so that I can make it look like this..." and he proceeded to draw swirls around the corners of his mouth.
The child wants mustache wax. And he often walks around smoking a fake cigarette that he got in a grab bag at the "Sing-a-Long Grease" at The Castro theater a couple of years ago. Very curious.

A.World A.Part

Sometimes, on a short holiday, it is nice to sit and listen to an old friend.

Psssst...Do Something!

Cloacal Disbelief

When my partner got into the car for the commute home last night, he and The Kid took up a little birding. This was all fun and games until it came out that many male birds don't have a penis.

All that was heard from the back seat was a long and whispered "....what...?" followed by a very long and contemplative silence.


Some do, by the way, as is evidenced by this Argentine Lake Duck.

Did You Feel That?

I hate that -- when my house shakes uncontrollably.
The next time you feel it, report it here.


A light earthquake occurred at 9:00:15 PM (PDT) on Friday, September 5, 2008. The magnitude 4.0 event occurred 3 km (2 miles) ENE of Alamo, CA. The hypocentral depth is 16 km (10 miles).

What a Pain

There seems to be something of an all-consuming concern on my floor (which I have just left for the next four months for my new clinical placement) but there still exists, in my absence I am sure, a somewhat obsessive concern with drug seeking. Granted, when I walk in the room, evaluate my patient, have a nice, friendly and coherent conversation with her -- VS normal, everything checks out -- ask her pain on a scale of 1-10 and have her reply "12", I have to think there's something a little fishy going on... especially when her PRN med is methadone.

It is a problem. But it is not as big a problem as some of the other nurses seem to imagine. For example, when my next patient has a hole in his body that is 4x4" and has reached the bone, and he reports to the docs, "I want you to change my demerol from every 6 to every 4 hours because my pain is a 7 all the time" I tend to roll with that. But this guy has had an incredibly hard time getting anyone to believe he is in any pain at all.

With that in mind, I've found some good advice in the event that you're ever in pain and in the hospital -- credit to Crass-Pollination, an ER Nurse who says:
"Attention: The pain scale stops at 10. If you say '12', we think you're FOS."

Runnin' Back to Saskatoon

I asked The Kid this morning if maybe he'd like to do some traveling this year. He said he liked that idea. I asked where he'd travel if he could choose. China? Ireland? Guatemala? "No," said he, "I think I'd like to visit Montreal... either Montreal or Saskatchewan."