Circus Nurse

Confessions of the Flesh

2010-06-09T17:40:00.000-07:00

On the way home from The Kid's rather raucous 5th grade graduation party, I commented to him that it would be the last graduation party that he would have to attend with his parents... that he will soon be going to new and different kinds of parties.

"Yeah," he replied, "the kind of parties where girls take off their tops."

The Partner chimed in, "Those kind of girls are called strippers..."

The Kid: "Whores."

I balked and, tripping over my slack jaw, began, somewhat firmly, to correct him. "Um... no... not prostitutes..." The Partner then took the reigns and tried to explain that "whore" isn't the most socially acceptable term nowadays. (He suggested "sex worker" which The Kid totally rejected, and rightfully so... I mean, middle school and sex worker don't exactly jibe, do they?). So, in any event, I tried to differentiate taking off one's clothes for money from having sex for money.

The Kid's response?
"Well, the girls I know will not be taking off their tops for money... they'll do it because they are drunk."

Le Conflit

2010-06-09T08:53:00.000-07:00

Why not read about Conflict: The Woman and the Mother for a cursory, NYT synopsis of what I suspect this text actually contains. I definitely like the idea of a critique based on ecology, ethology and essentialism -- especially the latter since it is, from where I sit, the bane of popular feminism today. More on this once I actually lay my eyes on a translation of the text.

Anyway, I am happy enough with Badinter's closing quote, whatever The Times was trying to communicate with it. It's not often you hear such sentiments from feminists today:

"I’m a mediocre mother like the vast majority of women, because I’m human."

Solitude of Ravens

2010-06-09T08:19:00.000-07:00

Masahisa Fukase

Yes, I Deliver

2010-05-31T16:32:00.000-07:00

The circus nurse is now, officially, a (paid) labor and delivery nurse.
Goodbye academia, hello life.
Praise be.

I Feel Bonnie

2010-05-07T16:19:00.000-07:00

Basically, AWESOME.

You're a Feminist, Boy!

2010-05-06T09:35:00.000-07:00

Yesterday when I arrived for pick up of The Kid from his after school program, he wasn't in his usual spot in the library. Instead, I found him sitting quietly doing his homework in another classroom, supervised by an infamously strict male teacher and surrounded by other boys.

So, somewhat reflexively I asked, "Why are you all in here...did you guys get into trouble?"

"No," says he, "Joanna sent us away because she was having a talk with the girls... ONLY."

"Oh... sex ed?" I asked, confidently.

"No," he replied, "feminism."

The Wonder Show of the World

2010-05-03T14:14:00.000-07:00

New bonny bonny album is out... available from Drag City.
Stop by for a copy.
In the meantime, why not pick up a Billy-inspired cork as well?

Don't ask me, I just deliver the bonny news.

Water Flowing Home

2010-03-25T19:47:00.000-07:00

Sherman Alexie's War Dances has been selected as the winner of the 2010 PEN/Faulkner Award for Fiction.

Excellent.

Read more from the Seattle Times.

Rest Your Soul so Quietly

2010-03-19T00:01:00.000-07:00

I still have no words of my own to fill this space.

For now I ask that These Here Hills meet my yearlong silence with her touching entry Stop the Clocks.

How do I know that the dead do not wonder why they ever longed for life? - Zhuangzi

Go Ask Alice?

2010-03-15T18:38:00.000-07:00

Another piece of work from the incorrigible Peggy Orenstein.

Femivore? Really?

The most I can muster about this is that The Partner's comment, "Femivore... I'm a femivore!" brought tears to my eyes. I like it so much better as a perversion than a cause.

He also provided this nicely timed piece, both to counter the femivores and to take on some of the issues plaguing our own troubled Bay Area education system. It nicely articulates the well-intentioned, if misdirected, work of Alice Waters in area schools.

More action, fewer causes, that's my new motto.

- Photo credit: Thomas Heinsner

Bonnie & the Cairo Gang, Oakland

2010-03-14T11:53:00.001-07:00

@ The New Parish
April 9th & 10th

It Rained, It Poured, It Rained So Hard...

2010-03-12T11:50:00.000-08:00

Thank you, Love♥

Fatal Flower Garden

Little Sir Hugh

And other variants.

The Incredible Two-Headed Transplant

2010-03-12T11:35:00.000-08:00

Tell me Bruce Dern circa 1971 doesn't bear a striking resemblance to a young Will O (sans the schnoz).

War Dances

2010-03-08T11:00:00.000-08:00

Sherman Alexie's War Dances is a finalist for the 2010 PEN/Faulkner Award for fiction. It's about time. The winner will be announced March 23rd.

Last year Alexie published a tremendous book of poetry entitled Face. One of those rare books, like many of Alexie's, that one should hold onto forever. Another was this 1992 book entitled...

I Would Steal Horses
For Kari

for you, if there were any left,
give a dozen of the best
to your father, the auto mechanic
in the small town where you were born

and where he will die sometime by dark.
I am afraid of his hands, which have
rebuilt more of the small parts
of this world than I ever will.

I would sign treaties for you, take
every promise as the last lie, the last
point after which we both refuse to exact.

I would wrap us both in old blankets
hold every disease tight against our skin.

Shift Work

2010-03-08T10:33:00.000-08:00

Some of the best moments of the weekend:

Delivering a baby girl to a young mother - one of nine sisters and two brothers - with five sisters and one niece present. The youngest of the 9 sisters, aged 16, cut the cord.

A nurse, about to take a break tells her break-relief, "Don't let that Doc near my patient..." Sticking my head out of a delivery room about twenty minutes later I hear that very nurse singing sweetly and find her sitting side-by-side with that very surgeon while he strums away on his ukulele.

One nurse says to another, "You don't believe in God? Not at all?"
"No. Not at all." The first nurse hugs her tightly and then holds her by the shoulders at arms length and asks very seriously, "Then who do you think made Berkeley?"

Blessed Motherhood, Bitter Fruit

2010-02-17T18:51:00.000-08:00

Last year, some anonymous person cruelly sent me a gift subscription to perhaps one of the most trashy magazines in circulation. Priding myself in not being a huge consumer of pop culture, I now, weekly, have to fight the demon known as US magazine. And, sometimes, I am weak. For example, this week I learned that Gisele Bündchen not only didn't have to wear maternity clothes during pregnancy, she also didn't have any pain in childbirth. I think the exact quote is, "It didn't hurt a bit. Not in the slightest." What kind of cruel joke is this?

After two months as an L&D nurse, I can safely report that this representation is one for the books: as in, a non-reality... and just one more reason why the confusion of pop culture and feminism makes me squirm. 99.9% of woman have been officially alienated. Thanks, ladies.

p.s. I totally forgot about orgasmic birth. Though, a couple of weeks back, a patient's husband did mention it to me when she was in transition. That was, perhaps, the worst decision of that man's young life.

Service with a Smile

2010-02-11T11:31:00.000-08:00

This week a patient came in, via ambulance, to deliver at our hospital. She was 1cm dilated, (read: not much) huffing and puffing and crying out with every contraction. I met her, along with her Granny, in triage. As we prepared to walk to her room she, naked from the waist down, wrapped herself in a blanket, grabbed her enormous silver purse and said, "Let's get outta here."
Her granny looked a her and remarked, "You better not lose that blanket or you'll be showin' off the goods!"
She replied, "Well, I ain't worried about the goods! I'm worried about my eyeshadow. I ain't goin' nowhere without my eyeshadow. Not even to have a baby!" She turned to me, "I don't wear no make-up... 'cept eyeshadow." Which was true. She had on tons of dark grey and silver eyeshadow.
I just nodded and nodded as this conversation proceeded until we reached her room, at which point she turned to me again and said, "Okay, now I want a hamburger and french fries. I want it medium with pickles and no onions. And a glass of grape juice. And mustard."
Somewhat stunned, I chuckled, turned around, and walked slowly from the room. I was off for some grape juice - thinking that maybe childbirth makes women delusional (she seemed to be mistaking the hospital for McDonalds).... or just really, really hungry.

The Game of Life

2010-02-04T18:54:00.000-08:00

At The Kid's football play-offs (that's flag football) this past weekend, talking with some of the other parents, one father had a lot of big-life-questions that he was trying to work through. He remarked, "I wish I could visit the homes of other parents... what do they do with the artwork? Do they keep it all or just the three-dimensional pieces made of sand?"

He went on: "Remember, the box top from the game Life? Everyone was having such fun. Do you remember playing that game?"

"Yeah," I said, "I remember that you could sell your children when you neared the end of the road."

The man just stopped and stared at me, blankly.

I was momentarily confused...didn't everyone try to accumulate children when playing Life so they could sell them at the end?? Apparently this was a goal only to those of us of a certain social strata... because I looked over and another woman about my age and, um, caliber, was bent over laughing her ass off in recognition.

BTW... I think this child selling arena was actually the space on the board entitled "College" wherein, now that I read the rules, one is supposed to pay $40k (this can't be the 1977 version) or some such sum. My brother, being the good, red blooded male that he is, convinced me, perhaps rightly, that he should be reimbursed for his progeny. That boy was way ahead of his time.

(And the answer to the question in the back of your mind is: Yes. He has 4 children... so far.)

Doppelgänger

2010-02-02T16:45:00.000-08:00

The celebrity doppelganger is sweeping the net. Well, facebook anyway, and I closed that account. But my sister and I have been having a ball with this on our own. Here's mine.

I know, this blog is anonymous. But, you may notice the remarkable resemblance between Liz, above, and Circus Nurse, stage right. Coincidence?

Ladies' Night

2010-01-28T10:45:00.000-08:00

Will Oldham, guest programmer @ Cinefamily L.A. January 7, 2010.

Congratulations, it's a....

2010-01-27T19:53:00.001-08:00

Walking down the hallway on my second weekend as an OB nurse I hear another, significantly more seasoned nurse laughing so hard that she's holding her knees.

"And so," she says between breaths, "apparently these parents had decided to describe childbirth to their little guy, who was about three, in a very concrete way... they were very educated, you know? Anyway, when the dad bent down with the baby, this little guy peered inside the blanket and you should have seen his face wrinkle all up...he literally screamed: 'But you told me it was a puppy!' The parents were horrified but I couldn't help it... I laughed and laughed! I guess they learned their lesson.

It's like I say," she quipped, "you should always follow one simple rule: Never compare humans to food or animals. Someone always ends up disappointed."

Storklike

2010-01-27T19:42:00.000-08:00

I work in labor and delivery now. Isn't that amazing? No, it's not a paid position. We're in the middle of a recession, so I'm told. But I am now actually a nurse and on the job every Saturday and Sunday. So far, I have been witness to a number of squinty little eyes blinking wildly at the new world. More on that soon, but I thought, for the time being, you might like to know.

Waking the Dead

2010-01-08T12:51:00.000-08:00

We watched The Howling night before last. Having seen it at the way-too-early age of about eight with my older brother I remembered being scared to death, so during one particular scene where his breathing was becoming labored and his feet were inching closer and closer to me, I asked The Kid, "Is this okay?" "Yesfineitsfine" was his reply, eyes glued intently to the screen.

Yesterday I asked him about the movie again, this time in relationship to the Italian zombie movies for which he has absolutely no tolerance. "It was fine. The scariest part was the fully naked woman and whatever they were doing by the fire."
"Yes, but what about the werewolves? When they changed, that was pretty scary, right?"
"No. Not really. It was cool the way they pulsated."
"But zombies are still too scary?"
"Mom, don't you know that the undead is a lot more scary? The undead are real. Werewolves are just fantasy." And with that, he swiftly moved on to asking to see An American Werewolf in London.
To think that I was once somewhat proficient in the folklore of demonology. Not anymore, apparently.

Variety of the Human Sort

2010-01-08T11:39:00.000-08:00

On a couple of gifts received this holiday season...

The first is a newish memoir-stroke-expose which pretty much violates every IRB and HIPAA regulation known to medicine -- not to mention some sort of personal honor code one should have to adopt in order to become a physician. Anyway... written by a attending psychiatrist at the (in)famous Bellevue Hospital, the oldest public hospital in the US, Weekends at Bellevue is perhaps the worst book ever written on severe mental illness and the role of the provider. Not to hyperbolize, but any doc who refers to her patients as "crazy" (she's a psychiatrist for chrissake), who writes about her propensity for literally sniffing out male pheromones, intern sex (ew), how her ass looks in scrubs and, let's be honest, has a lot of unexamined contempt for the mentally ill, gets her book tossed swiftly in the trash. Sorry, Santa.

But, never fear. There is also the now-quite-ancient and excellent book entitled Mutants: On the Form, Varieties and Errors of the Human Body (2004) written by the intriguing and somewhat controversial Armand Marie Leroi, an evolutionary developmental biologist and lecturer at Imperial College London. This history and popular-science sampler is humane and insightful, taking on difficult questions of genetic variation and social interpretation. "Injustice creeps in through the cracks of our ignorance... It is to finally close off those cracks" that we should be looking at human variety. He is speaking about genetics, of course, but mayn't this well be applied to other work, needing not to be resurrected here? I think so.

On the Fence

2009-12-28T19:54:00.000-08:00

Here is a well articulated and fair article about palliative/terminal sedation. This was a genuine and frightening surprise to me during my first clinical rotation and it continues to be one of those ethical dilemmas with which, inside, I can make no headway. It is probably the number one reason why I have shied away from hospice nursing which I originally suspected to be my calling. My hands and heart don't want to carry the weight. Conscience or cowardice? You decide.

Holy Holy

2009-12-24T00:01:00.000-08:00

Happy Birthday, Bonnie.

Thank You.

Cryopreservation

2009-12-21T12:47:00.000-08:00

What surprises can be found in the freezer of a home of a 10-year-old boy?

Riget

2009-12-20T16:22:00.000-08:00

The Kingdom.
The best hospital-based television drama ever, ever, EVER.

If You Listen to Me...

2009-12-19T09:51:00.002-08:00

"THE EDITORS of this publication asked me to compile a list. They asked that I not be too esoteric, and I will try. . . . However, as most people are coming to realize, we as individuals are finding greater connections to smaller things; things smaller in scope and more specific to our tangible and imagined communities. I find that the music that transports me often has a community of admirers bound together only by the love of that music. When I take a look at the dominant music news and discover that, essentially, Bruce Springsteen = Radiohead = Yeah Yeah Yeahs = Madonna = Arcade Fire = Bat for Lashes, it compels me to turn away from the lot."

Read on for recommendations.
However, I believe the message here to be... find your own.

Understanding the Dead

2009-12-19T09:39:00.000-08:00

Without memory, there can be no revenge. Lest we forget. Remember me. To you from failing hands we throw. Cries of the thirsty ghosts.

Nothing is more difficult than to understand the dead, I've found; but nothing is more dangerous than to ignore them.

Margaret Atwood, The Blind Assassin

The Spanish Lesson

2009-12-10T19:17:00.000-08:00

Applying to new graduate programs is always a challenge. What to say about my past work experience: how much is enough, how much is too much? Amongst all of the queries about clinical experience and life before nursing is the inevitable question: do you speak a second language? The honest answer -- though I had a few years of ASL and can communicate (whatever that means) and some French (not super useful here in California) -- is a resounding NO.

A fellow MEPN, wondering how the hell I got into the program being monolingual said, "You don't even speak a few words of Spanish? " NO. I can fake it, but why would I want to do that when we're talking about a someone's health?

Anyway, The Partner decided that I should have a working knowledge of Spanish to make patients feel like I am, at the very least, trying to communicate. Fair enough. Tonight he began compiling the "Dirty Dozen" words and phrases, as it were. Phrases such as, "How do you feel?", "Are you cold?", "Are you hungry?", "Do you want water?", "Where are you from?".

Listing off possible phrases as we drive through the Mission, from somewhere in the backseat The Kid chimes in: "Are you a virgin?"

Yeah, that one should come in handy. Thanks.

"Paid As Any Other Sickness"

2009-11-27T12:52:00.000-08:00

That's right, institutional insurance plan for students, scholars, researchers and dependents. Yes, it is, in fact, a medical school. Read it and weep.

Thanksgiving Message, From Our House to Yours

2009-11-26T12:48:00.000-08:00

So I Let Go Now...

2009-11-26T07:11:00.000-08:00

In the spirit of Thanksgiving, I thought I should follow the lead of many wonderful fellow bloggers and give thanks.

In the face of this year which, to be honest, has not been one of my favorites, I am thankful for love.

I am not only thankful for the love that I have been given, but for the love that I have witnessed and for the love that has been taken away.

I am thankful for the serenity in my home and the always honest and thoughtful criticality, humor and humanity of those who share it.

I am thankful for all of the year's circumstances that have served to remind me of who I am and who I want to be.

I am thankful for losses perhaps more than I am thankful for accomplishments. Dispossession continues to remind me of the importance hope.

Above all else, hope is the one thing for which I give the deepest thanks.

Wicker Man

2009-11-23T22:12:00.001-08:00

Wow, what a great movie. An ethnographic account of paganism and the movie from which Burning Man was born, apparently.

During one ritualistic scene full of phallic representation (and the like) by way of the Maypole, The Kid says, "P ole dancin g!"

"Um....noooo....not exactly," I say.
"Oh... Polish dancing!"
Okay. Close enough.

Bongwater & Blood

2009-11-23T22:02:00.000-08:00

That guy next door is up on his roof smoking out again.
Have I mentioned him before?
One of these days he's going to fall and break something.
Bongwater and blood everywhere.

M A K E

2009-11-20T16:08:00.000-08:00

If I had an ounce of artistic ability, I would do this.
Some of my favorites include 1/06/09: Anti-fingerboarding signs; 1/31/09: Rifle wrapped in yarn; 1/05/09: A Scene from the fictitious horror film, "Honey Bear, Sweet Honey Bear"; 2/16/09: horse; and of course 1/13/09: Lyrics Poster / The Smiths.
*Image from Laser Bread via flickr

For My Heart's a Boat in Tow

2009-11-20T11:38:00.000-08:00

The Kid is pretty amazing... evidenced in this rendering of the human heart which he placed amongst my study materials as an illustrative reference. Check it out.

Happy Birthday, Erin J.

2009-11-05T14:23:00.000-08:00

Invisible Costume

2009-11-03T18:42:00.000-08:00

The Kid was so pissed this Halloween when no one knew who his costume was supposed to represent. What? Hasn't every other ten-year-old wanted to dress up as Claude Rains in the 1933 version of The Invisible Man?

Every time someone asked, "And what are you supposed to be?"
He just stared ahead blankly as if to say, "What is wrong with you people?"

Just a Body

2009-10-15T09:13:00.000-07:00

The Kid is ten. Driving home from school last night we had this conversation: "See that dot on their license plate?" he asks, pointing to the car in front of us, "it means that guy's a donor."
"A what? Organ donor? No, they don't put it on your license plate. Someone needing a kidney might run you off the road... they put the dot on your driver's license."

"Oh... Are you a donor?"
"Yes, of course."
"What part of your body?"
"The whole thing."
"Well, that's good. They might as well take it all and help someone else. You won't be needing any of it anymore."
"Does it bother you?"
With some disdain, "No, mom... It's just a body."

WE CARE Solar

2009-10-14T09:03:00.000-07:00

If you want to take a position on child birth, consider this. If you want to talk about injustice and what it means to work for women, imagine. If you want to take on a women's rights issue, this is it:

"Maternal mortality worldwide accounts for more than half a million deaths a year...that's the same as one woman dying every minute of every day, and that's an outrage. That should never be happening."
Laura E. Stachel MD, MPH, Founder of WE CARE Solar.

WE CARE Solar "reduces maternal mortality in developing regions by providing health workers with reliable lighting, blood bank refrigeration and mobile communication using solar electricity."

This organization needs, and deserves, your support.

Dweebs and Assholes

2009-10-07T20:59:00.000-07:00

Yesterday, after a very pleasant telephone conversation with my former PI (read:boss) who happens to be a successful MD, I related part of our conversation to The Partner.

"So, the Doc said to me, 'I don't like to hang out with other docs. They're all dweebs and assholes'."

After having sat through a very painful weekly Ob/Gyn Grand Rounds that very morning, lead by a particularly unbearable female doc, I remarked, "It's true. Even the women are assholes." The Partner smartly decided that this would be the title of my upcoming tome on feminism:

"Even the Women Are Assholes: The Unthinkable Thoughts of a Feminist."

Illustration credit, obviously, goes to the late, great Kurt Vonnegut.

Song to the Siren

2009-09-19T18:49:00.000-07:00

Now from his breast into his eyes the ache of longing mounted, and he wept at last, his dear wife, clear and faithful, in his arms, longed for as the sun warmed earth is longed for by a swimmer spent in rough water where his ship went down under Poseidon's blows, gale winds and tons of sea. Few men can keep alive through a big surf to crawl, clotted with brine, on kindly beaches in joy, in joy, knowing the abyss behind: and so she too rejoiced, her gaze upon her husband, her white arms round him pressed as though forever.

- Homer, The Odyssey

I'll See You in My Dreams

2009-09-09T18:36:00.000-07:00

♥ S.L.M. ♥
December 17, 1929 - September 8, 2009

Anthropo Logic

2009-09-07T15:00:00.000-07:00

A couple of weeks ago I was on my way to lunch with my former project manager, celebrating one year of liberation from social science and passing of the state boards. A now-doctoral-degree-holding colleague stopped by to say hello and commented that it was fun to keep up on facebook where we had recently become virtual friends. "But your profile picture... you're wearing and overcoat and standing on the street corner. You look a little like..."
"A prostitute?" I interjected.
She quickly corrected me, noting that the appropriate term is "sex worker".

The bias-free insult: how anthro-politcal!

Sudden Birth

2009-09-01T18:18:00.000-07:00

So, this is a great video I wanted to keep around for posterity's sake. Labor and delivery instruction via the Berkeley Police Department and Alta Bates Medical Center, circa 1966.
If you decide to watch, just remember: "Keep calm. Keep calm. Keep calm..."

You Can That Heaven Here...

2009-09-01T16:01:00.000-07:00

Viaticum

2009-08-29T19:40:00.000-07:00

The Kid says, "Do you know why there are so many ghosts these days? Because no one ever places obol on the eyes of the dead anymore, so Charon won't let them into the underworld.

But don't worry, Mom. When you die, I'll leave you with two hundred dollars."

NCLEX Hex

2009-08-22T08:15:00.001-07:00

Many weeks have passed since I sat for the dreaded nursing boards, (bka: NCLEX which is the National Council Licensure Examination for Registered Nurses). What a nightmare. Let me say that standardized tests are not my bag. I could say a lot about these tools, as a social scientist. But I won't. Not because I did well on the SAT -- as matriculating community college student I never had to endure them -- but because I have been privileged enough to do well enough on the GRE to get into gradate school, twice. Because, let's face it, it's not about what you know, but how you've learned to test -- and that is about factors that have absolutely nothing to do with intelligence. Let me also point out that I passed with flying colors the qualifying examinations in my doctoral program... 72 hours of exams that did not even come close to the hell that is the NCLEX.

First of all, for anyone who has yet to experience this rite of passage, you will walk away thinking you've failed. Or at least normal people will think this... plenty of my colleagues walked away celebrating the 75 question blue screen moment, a kind of confidence that I will never know in this lifetime. I would have presumed failure. But not that this matters, as I sat through 265 questions and 5.5 hours, having left convinced that I did not answer a single question correctly. This means that never, not once, was I certain of an answer I was giving. That experience erodes confidence very quickly.

Because of laws governing the boards and the insanely detailed waiver I had to sign after being fingerprinted and photographed and finger printed again, I cannot give any hints about test content. But that is not really the useful or interesting part of the story. The interesting part is that this is a psychometric test, which creates a "passing standard" for all of those who sit for the boards. In simple terms this means that every person who takes the exam should get an equal percentage of questions correct and incorrect. As a person performs well, the questions become more difficult until a question is answered incorrectly. In that case, the next question will be slightly less difficult until the person is again answering correctly. Once a threshold is reached, wherein the test-taker has demonstrated that s/he is answering more difficult questions correctly than incorrectly, the the exam will end. This can be at 75 questions, or any arbitrary number in between, up to my 265. Likewise, if one is doing poorly, answering lower-level questions incorrectly more than 50% of the time, the exam will end. The clincher is that once the blue screen appears, you have to raise your hand, are escorted from the room, and then you have to wait up to two weeks for your results.

Many of my colleagues were able to log on to the BRN website and check to see if their names appeared in the permanent license verification system within the next two days, a kind of work-around for those waiting for results by mail. Personally, I took the test on a Friday, expected to see (or rather not see, given my commitment to failure) my name on the site on Tuesday. When my name didn't appear, I prepared for the studying process, again... but, on the advice of a friend, I called the BRN to be certain the documentation in my file was complete. Lo and behold, no transcripts had ever arrived from my institution. I dragged myself to the registrar, paid for transcripts (again) and waited.

One night before bed, about three weeks later, The Kid said, "Mom, I know you passed that test. You're a nurse now." With this bit of kismet, I woke the next morning and checked the BRN. There was my name. The card arrived the next day.

The moral of this long, long story is: never fear. It is a very difficult test for which to study, the questions are very hard to comprehend on first reading (and I am a native English speaker... bless all those who take it with English as a second language), it is difficult to gauge and it is not by any means an accurate judge of what kind of nurse you will be. I am not sure how well it even measures competence. It is, like many other standardized exams, a test of something determined to be a means to find a 'measurable' proficiency among candidates. This does not address ability nor knowledge. I suspect some of the best nurses are those that have to take it more than once. And anyone who has to sit through it more than once deserves a medal of honor.

Irony

2009-08-05T18:39:00.001-07:00

The Kid said to me today:
"I hate irony....
when it's happening to me."

Supermother?

2009-08-04T11:33:00.000-07:00

Did you read this? Someone should tell Peggy Orenstein that the way to empower a daughter is to empower oneself. The self-effacing feminist might try mythology or, say, history for a few good female heroes. Or how about manga? Baby Cart and the River Styx has a female character who not only can fight the land's most revered, ruthless and dreaded ronin, but she can also jump out of her clothes in a single bound! Eat your heart out, Peggy.

Her only weakness? Motherhood*. Go figure.

Image from Danny Choo via Boing Boing.
*not an Adrian Rich fan. Just making a point.

Sanctified

2009-08-01T20:22:00.001-07:00

Hiking today I learned that Fairfax, California (north of the Golden Gate) is home to some slippery friends: rattlesnakes. Climbing up over Cascade Falls I came face to face with this young fella. The yellow bands indicate that he's a juvenile. Young one or not, he was huge and absolutely unmoved by me.

Snakes have a strange power; walking back I jumped at the slightest movement of every single blade of grass. It makes perfect sense why serpents hold such an important place in folklore.

The experience reminded me of this piece of footage I'd seen back in the late '90s. Snake handling at a Jolo, West Virginia Pentecostal Church. - Looking for a little faith? Try Mark 16 set to rockabilly accompanied by some downright fancy footwork.

Keep in mind this footage is relatively contemporary.

Single Point Sorrow

2009-07-29T19:45:00.000-07:00

Having given up a lot to go to nursing school, I was full of joy in witnessing a one-time, single-point trapeze training partner preform at this year's annual showcase. According to her website, she also had a couple of gigs at Supperclub here in the city. Excellent.
*My sorrow is over having lost the circus somewhere in the midst of becoming a nurse -- and still not having yet become a nurse.
No circus + no nurse = sorrow.
Photo credit: Seth Golub

Whose Eye is on the Sparrow?

2009-07-27T10:21:00.000-07:00

It rains, a gale rises, the big top collapses, fire breaks out, panic, people trample their neighbors to death as faced with the prospect of dying they make the decision, now, swiftly, who matters most. "I matter. I. I. I matter."

...I fly alone, apart from the flock, on long journeys through storm and clear skies to another summer. Hear me!

Towards Another Summer

Zatôichi

2009-07-26T18:19:00.000-07:00

"Even with my eyes open wide, I can't see a thing."

Also, this movie has the best closing scene ever.

Frenz

2009-07-25T19:27:00.000-07:00

Fleisher/Ollman Gallery's exhibit of works selected by Will Oldham.
It's called Frenz. With performance, too. Philadelphia, PA.

Lang & Cravat

2009-07-25T17:52:00.000-07:00

Burt Lancaster is a new fave. And it's not just the face. Nor is it just the physique. Actually, this is my favorite part of his biography: Nick Cravat. This life-long friend of Lancaster was also his partner in a doubles acrobatic/trapeze routine in the mid 1930s and 1940s. He starred alongside Lancaster in nine films. In most he was mute. Cravat's daughter attributes this to his incredibly strong east-coast accent.

Cravat died in January and Lancaster in October of 1994.

A great aside is that the Circus Center has a fabulous doubles acrobatic act. Weirdly, our strong-man base bears a striking resemblance to Lancaster. Take a look for yourself.

Cardiac Infarct

2009-07-25T17:46:00.001-07:00

So Sorry, My Sister

2009-07-23T18:53:00.000-07:00

...but now I see
I had her before me always,
like a shield. I look at her wrinkles, her clenched
jaws, her frown-lines - I see they are
the dents on my shield, the blows that did not reach me.
She protected me, not as a mother
protects a child, with love, but as a
hostage protects the one who makes her
escape as I made my escape, with my sister's
body held in front of me.

From The Elder Sister, Sharon Olds
For you, in loving memory of
S.B.M. 09/08/1972 - 07/22/2009

Kozure Ōkami

2009-07-12T19:34:00.000-07:00

From the manga of the same name.

Recap

2009-07-10T14:42:00.001-07:00

Time for a recap of the past few months:

The winter ends, psych and peds rotations begin... and end, I join Facebook, The Kid graduates to the *fifth* grade, the MEPN year ends (hurrah! hurrah!), I meet new MEPNs with new neuroses, I leave Facebook, The Partner finally visits Montana, I receive my interim permit to practice nursing in the state of California, I register for the NCLEX and I come back to Circus Nurse, fresh and new. Okay. Now we're all squared away.

Per Sempre

2009-04-04T10:50:00.000-07:00

Without impatience I'll dream.
I'll bend to the task
That can never end,
And little by little at the tips
Of reborn arms
Succoring hands will reopen,
The eyes reappeared
In their sockets will give light again
And suddenly in tact,
You'll have resurrected, your voice
Will be my guide again,
I'm seeing you again forever.

~Giuseppe Ungaretti

The Trick of Humanity

2009-04-04T09:53:00.001-07:00

I spent the first day of pediatric clinicals in the intensive care unit. My patient was very young, under one year, born with congenital anomalies that included a heart defect, this one specifically, choledochal cysts and biliary atresia, meaning that she needed both open heart surgery and a liver transplant. She received both, preceded by a miriad of other surgies. When I cared for her, she was nine days post-op. I counted eight IV lines going into her body, exclusive of her pacer wires, NG tube, Jackson-Pratt drain, CPAP and ventilator.

I didn't mind the PICU so much as I expected. In fact, pediatrics seems like a place I would be excited to work, a great surprise to me. Maybe it's the timing. The most significant obstacle would be coming to terms with advanced technology out-sizing the patient. Following yesterday's rotation I felt like this was a huge moral dilemma, so I sought out reserach on the subject and found an interesting article that takes on the distress that PICU nurses face in the wake of modern technology that outpaces moral questions about life at any cost. The authors ask how medical and "life-saving technologies are outstripping our human abilities to comprehend and live with the consequences". Certainly a very worthy ethical question and definitley one that represents what I find the most difficult aspect of peds: what it means to be humane. To me, it looks like humanity tricking us again.

A Home in the World

2009-04-04T09:44:00.000-07:00

"I can't consider any of that time as time away, because you don't want to spend half of your life being away or where you shouldn't be. I choose to think of all the time as being present. I'm always home."

I Have Not Seen You

2009-03-22T10:37:00.000-07:00

...but slowly you are
forming above my head, white as
petals, white as milk, the dark
narrow stems of your
ankles and wrists,
until you are always with me,
a flowering branch suspended
over my life.
~ for E.J.T. 1973-2009 &
C.V.O. 1995-2009

from Absent One, by Sharon Olds

Movie: A New Euphemism For..?

2009-03-21T21:56:00.000-07:00

So The Partner says, "Look at all of those trucks along the side of the road. Do you know what they're doing there?"
"No...." says The Kid.
"They're making a movie."
"What's a movie?"
"Um, a movie" I say, "have you ever seen one?"
"Oh," says The Kid, "I thought you meant something different by 'a movie'... like something truckers get together and do in the woods."

Like the End of Something Wonderful

2009-03-16T09:52:00.000-07:00

Were you worried Billy'd crossed over to the other side? Me too. I guess we were wrong. Today's New York Times sports a long-deserved and up-front review of the new album which is weirdly flattering and, at the same time, disparaging.

"Mr. Oldham’s persona is a little bit of a lonesome romantic and a lot of a fool. He sounds generally optimistic, even when he’s singing about treachery...He never flatters himself. He’s not special. His love is effortful and can be one-sided. He’s easily satisfied. He can’t be counted on... Something is always lost in translation with him."

My favorite is the last line in reference to breadth and depth of talent in his accompanying musicians, "There’s a sense here of smart people being made to focus on a strange project."
It's refreshing to see he can still make the critics stutter.

Kandahar Treasure

2009-03-16T09:46:00.000-07:00

"I heard a mother had lost her son due to a suicide bomber, and she got up to speak, and she said a beautiful thing. She said, “Whether it’s a Talib who’s being killed, an Afghan policeman who’s being killed, or an international army military person who is being killed, he leaves behind a mother, a sister or a daughter and/or a wife who mourns for him.”

So that saying was quite powerful in saying that women have this inclusive idea of security and owning peace. Stopping the killing for all... is reason enough for them to wage peace. You know, mothers feel the pain of human beings, and they’re calling for and they want this killing to stop." Rangina Hamidi. ~ Kandahar Treasure

The Feminist Conundrum

2009-03-10T19:22:00.000-07:00

"So do you have men in other rooms studyin' about theirselves?"

"Not necessary. Men are already studied in every kind of study. Women have been forced to study great men ---"

"Maybe that's the problem... Ditch great people! Erase the bastards... from books and stuff. Just do folks - regular ones - the failures." Snowman (1999)

No Room at the Inn

2009-03-07T10:09:00.000-08:00

I discharged my patient to a shelter yesterday with heparin induced thrombocytopenia recently “resolved” by argatroban (tx stopped 2 hours prior), but with no coumadin. I discharged him with a foley. I did so because I was told to do so by the doctor. I put up a totally meager fight and then sent him packing with Thursday’s copy of the New York Times that I’d brought from home, a bag with handles donated by the gift shop, a pair of flip flops and a sweat suit donated by social services, a walker donated by physical therapy and no clear idea of where he was going or how to care for himself. We just put him in a cab and sent him away.

I Am Goodbye

2009-03-07T09:05:00.000-08:00

New bonnie video from Drag City

Featured bonnie article from The Wire

And a picture gallery

About Anonymity

2009-03-05T18:18:00.000-08:00

Opinions expressed on this blog are experientially based opinions. Everyday goings on from the life of one mother, student, ABD*, Oldham fan, jobless, amateur circus performer.

I just want to make that clear to anyone lurking around these parts who thinks I might actually know something about something.
For the record, I don't.

*someone actually called me this at a party over the weekend, ew!

He Who Would Be Prince

2009-03-03T16:28:00.000-08:00

Bonnie's getting a lot of press lately, e.g. this boring interview. (Can I just ask, who is McLaughlin talking about when he says that "many" compare Oldham to Dylan? Jesus. Please.) Anyway, check it out simply for the ancient "Horses" video plucked from youtube.

Army of Shadows

2009-03-02T21:34:00.000-08:00

This is an excellent movie.
Left speechless.

The Attending

2009-03-02T21:08:00.000-08:00

Did I tell you that I inadvertently called the attending physician on Friday for blood pressure parameters for my patient's Cardizem? Learned my lesson about the hierarchy in a hurry. Yes, in fact, it was totally humiliating. And I'm not sure why, except that I didn't live it down in a hurry... And I did not get the damned parameters.

For those who don't know the system it's like this, top down: attending, resident, intern... with, at my institution of practice, multiples thereof under the attending. "Nurse" is somewhere waaayyy down at the bottom of that totem*, falling fast when one phones the attending instead of the intern.

*Oh wait, we're not a kinship group. There I go, mixing up my careers again!

Garden Poetry

2009-03-02T21:03:00.000-08:00

My mind is longer than any tree's branch.
My arms are like the trunk of a tree.
My hair is a bush in the garden.
My room is a treehouse swaying in the treetops.
My feet are the roots on a tree.
My fingers are like bonsai, each its own.

~The Kid, February 2009

Hello, Marmoset!

2009-03-02T20:56:00.000-08:00

The latest greeting I receive when I see The Kid.

This nicely complements the insult he shouts when the dog is attacking:

"You little juvenile!"

Rites of Passage

2009-02-21T16:59:00.001-08:00

In the doorway stands the nurse's aide looking frazzled and tired, rubber gloved, holding wipes in one hand, her pager in the other, towels tucked under each arm. Her nurse is consulting with a family member and a doc about discharge of another patient. “Sarah,” says the aide, “I need your help. Please.” The nurse gives her the, “I’m-busy-with-another-patient-I’ll-be-there-soon” look that means she could be there in ten minutes or two hours. Since I am only charting at the nurse’s station I offer a hand.

I enter the room and approach the patient in her bed. “Just turn her over, please” says Therese. So, I roll the patient toward me and Therese begins to clean her. All the while I’m talking to the patient, “You’re doing a great job, Mrs. L… Here, lean toward me… Just a little longer now…” I adjust her weight, moving my right hand from her torso to her leg and realize suddenly that her extremities are really cold. I place my left hand on her back and get my face down in her face. Not breathing. My ears feel red and hot. I scan the patient from head to toe. I look at the aide. She is madly cleaning the woman, paying me no mind. Suddenly it dawns on me: the aide knows that the patient is dead. In fact, I find out later, the patient had been dead for over an hour.

Why the aide didn’t apprise me of the situation upon my entering the room is totally beyond me. Why she didn’t say anything when she heard me talking, and, more specifically, giving instruction to, a corpse, is also a mystery. My theory is that she either thinks I am deeply spiritual, or she thinks I'm crazy.

It’s a strange world, the hospital. It makes me thankful for my deep and morbid sense of humor, finally serving me well.

Return, Stroszek

2009-02-21T15:11:00.000-08:00

If you know Bruno S. or even know of him, this* will be of interest. Particularly poignant is his rendering of Mamatschi.

If you are not familiar with Bruno S. you can see him in Hertzog's Stroszek (1977). The saddest, despite the dancing chicken. And don't forget the Enigma of Kaspar Hauser (1974).

*It's from the NY Times, old news. I forgot to make a timely posting. Sorry

The Patient Man

2009-02-21T11:03:00.000-08:00

Yesterday I said goodbye to my patient of the past two weeks, a man of great heart.
He took my hand and said, "Goodbye, Dear. I'll see you in the movies."
I smiled, "I hope you fly again someday."
"I will," said he.

Yokai!

2009-02-21T10:37:00.000-08:00

Thoroughly enjoying Yokai Monsters: 100 Monsters.
What are the Yokai? Scary Japanese monsters and spirits (Obake). Their stories come from Japanese folklore and The Captive Wildwoman has a great introduction to some of the creatures here. A reference guide of sorts, for English speakers to learn what they are all about, can be found at Yokai Attack!. I've found this to be a welcome follow-up to the now-dead Ultraman obsession that The Kid began when he was about three and which lasted for many years.
Goodbye Tiga. Hello Yokai.

Note for Big M.

2009-02-19T21:40:00.000-08:00

May the love see you thru,
because we need u.

Written on a plain, white, 3x5 notecard and left at bedside.

Just because

2009-02-18T16:14:00.000-08:00

Giantess Nurse

The Oracle is Fulfilled

2009-02-15T18:35:00.000-08:00

Welcome Perseus! (BKA: Percy.) Half dachshund, half chihuahua -- that's a chiweenie to you -- and the smartest dog on the planet.

Little Something With Your Coke?

2009-02-15T18:34:00.000-08:00

Agranulocytosis. Dying white blood cells. Since white blood cells principally fight infection, if you develop this form of leukopenia, you're going to be at an increased risk for a whole host of contagions. What we've heard is that there is some cocaine on the market that is tainted with levamisole, an antiparasitic used in cojunction with other drugs for the treatment of cancer. It's also sold otc as a dewormer for livesock, dogs and for freshwater fishtanks. Why it's being cut into cocaine is anyone's guess, but apparently it's not the first time. However this time we have a health advisory.

Old Jerusalem

2009-02-15T18:13:00.000-08:00

To Quote, Two

2009-02-09T20:45:00.000-08:00

Upon seeing a fairly drunk man - looking somewhat like Charles Manson but with a more distinct nose - riding a pink and purple ten speed bike, one handed, gesticulating wildly, down Mission street at dusk, he says:

"He's a little bit Judo and a little Menudo."

Further down the road he comments to himself, "You can tell that a society is dying when camouflage is more discernable than anything else that you see."

Two fine quotes from The Partner.
If you haven't already noticed, the man is a genius.

Wonder Where You've Been

2009-02-08T15:31:00.000-08:00

“Classes communicate differently and our social skills aren't the same. Working-class people aren't big on formal introductions and small talk. We use much more body language and humility. Among us, we share a lot of local history and experience, so there's much we don't have to say to each other. We tend to mumble and say 'you know' a lot. We aren't usually talking heads. Self-deprecation is often our way of exercising a work-group, working toward cooperation and trust. It's a very tribal thing. And home. Home is not a street number, not a building. Home is another word for community, for the tribe ... faces, hands, voices, mumbles and shared work.” - Carolyn Chute

Nurses Unite!

2009-02-07T22:39:00.000-08:00

Talking with my clinical group this week about different kinds of hospital nursing (team and primary) I picked up from my colleagues' literature review that there seemed to be no qualitative nor quantitative difference between outcomes for the two -- neither in perceived care nor worker satisfaction. I thought the findings were interesting given the proposed phase-out of LPNs/LVNs in California. The data seemed to reflect that mortality, patient outcomes, satisfaction and nursing burnout were undifferentiated, whether four-year nurses worked on their own or whether they worked with the support of LPNs and CNAs. My clinical instructor weighed it differently, quoting one Linda Aiken who reported in a 2003 study, "hospitals with higher proportion of nurses educated at the baccalaureate level or higher, surgical patients experienced lower mortality and failure-to-rescue rates." The argument was that LPNs had unfavorable outcomes based strictly on their education.

This illustrated for me another great failure of academia. Some quantified outcomes, like this one, contain numerous confounding factors that tend to flub up reported and repeated results. The Aiken study does not illustrate better rates of care by better educated nurses; it illustrates how more resources impact outcomes. Where are the LPNs/LVNs? In poor, rural hospitals. Are there surgical centers in those hospitals? No. Are the baccalaureate educated nurses better able to care for patients? Not necessarily. Do they have more resources -- education being one of those resources? Yes. And what's the relationship of education to labor? The California labor union has systematically displaced two-year educated nurses rather than provide a means to give them the additional year they need for the BSN. So, it's not about the education but the resource -- and to whom that resource is available. It's something to mull over. Especially if you want to argue it away as being strictly about education or strictly about class, as one is wont to do. It's about access and it's about care. Look around the hospital and see who's got it and who's giving it. It's certainly not just the baccalaureate or master's educated nurses that are giving.

It occurred to me in the middle of the night that we are one year educated nurses. An interesting twist.

Substituted Judgment

2009-02-07T22:10:00.001-08:00

An interesting article, provided me by The Partner, describes the application of suspended judgment among first-year medical students, wherein patient self-determination is preserved in the face of loss of ability in autonomous decision making via appropriate, designated surrogate. The results are very interesting and an important consideration for all health care providers. It's the conundrum of best interest of the patient, medical judgment or family wishes placed against patient self-determination. As a nurse and 'patient advocate', you think you know what you would do, don't you? It's worth rethinking because it's a very tricky ethical dilemma.

The Reader

2009-02-01T20:36:00.000-08:00

A classmate saw me reading before class this week and asked, "How can you find time to read?"
I just shrugged, because that's the polite thing to do, but I felt my brow furrow as I thought, "How can you not?"

The photograph is by Jennifer Zwick and is titled The Reader.

More Noir

2009-02-01T20:10:00.001-08:00

This week's film recommendation:
Night and the City.
Wonderfully bleak.

Surgeons are Super

2009-01-31T10:37:00.000-08:00

Surgeons have some of the most amazing writing skills I have yet to read. They are keen observers, excellent historians, and duly self-reflective. This observation is based on notes about a patient that I had this week, one Ms. L., suffering from pancreatic pseudocysts, who suddenly and unexpectedly began vomiting copious[1] amounts of bright red blood[2]. She was in absolutely critical condition by the time we got her to the ICU. Because I followed her there and participated in hanging her blood and plasma for transfusion, watched the endotracheal intubation, etc., and since she and I had been chatting and laughing all morning before the incident, I was anxious to follow-up with her the next day. She apparently underwent surgery early Friday morning and the surgery notes represent a unique literary form that I wish would be published as general interest material. I'd quote from it, but that is not HIPAA compliant, so let me just say to you students out there, if you want to learn in amazing detail and narrative about disease and anatomy, read your patient's surgeon's notes. Absolutely the best tool for learning I have been presented with thus far. (It will probably also be somewhat humbling in terms of differentiating the role of nurse from doctor. I'm just being honest.)

[1] 1000mLs* in about 60 minutes * class II blood loss at 1 hour.
[2] blood that would coagulate before we had time to rinse the basin.

Cello Scrotum, Revealed

2009-01-28T17:59:00.000-08:00

And just in time for The Kid to start his cello lessons.
Hearing the Baroness Murphy's telling is definitely worthwhile.

The photo is of the amazing Ernst Reijseger. If you get the chance, have a listen.

Fillmore Will

2009-01-27T14:49:00.000-08:00

Bonnie "Prince" Billy at the Fillmore.
March 30th, 2009 - 8pm.
Tickets are for sale and still available.

First Do No Harm

2009-01-27T14:27:00.000-08:00

The Kid is reading, among other things, The Fortean Times Book of Strange Deaths. He said to me last night after my first med-surg exam, over which I was having mild to massive anxiety, "Mom, you'd better read this; I don't want you to make the same mistake."

"A newborn baby in a Chicago hospital came to an abrupt end when someone accidentally connected the child's heart monitor cables attached to electrodes on the chest and abdomen directly to the mains. Twelve day old Stratton Vasilakos died instantly. Apparently this was caused by a design fault which had resulted in several previous accidents but was supposed to have been corrected."

Somehow that wasn't really the anxiety relief, nor the vote of confidence, I was looking for.

By the way, did you know that "Primum no nocere" is not even in the Hippocratic Oath? I'm no doctor so it doesn't really matter. Interesting, nonetheless. It's actually attributed to the Roman physician, Galen.

Unbroken Circle

2009-01-26T16:14:00.000-08:00

On Sunday we went to Tennessee Valley and not only happened upon such a large bobcat that we initially mistook it for a mountain lion, but a beautiful great horned owl. Perhaps foreshadowed by the latter, we were also confronted with a body on the shore. Given the position of Tennessee beach and the tides off of the Marin Headlands, it was pretty likely a jumper.

This was, The Kid pointed out, the closest he'd ever been to a corpse -- which is to say not too close, but close enough to tell us, aided by binoculars, what the man was wearing. There weren't many passers-by that day. Who knows the reason. So we were lone hikers when the coroner's van came by. Once the body was in, and the van passed, The Kid and The Partner both decided it was time to break into song. I scolded them both, unnecessarily imparting the significance of respect for the dead.

"But Mom, we are respecting him," said The Kid."We are singing because we don't know if the circle will be unbroken... we're singing because we wonder if he's a father."

And this was the moment The Kid began to grapple with human mortality. We learned thereafter that when we die he's going to keep a lock of hair from each of our heads in a locket around his neck, and The Partner's umbrella will be forever preserved in a pine box in The Kid's living room -- somewhat like the dog's ashes, which still sit in a tiny box next to his bed, bearing the words, in red sharpied child scrawl: "SAMMY RIP".

When Words Fail

2009-01-25T22:04:00.000-08:00

For a class in Effective Communication this past week, we watched the opening scene from The Diving Bell and the Butterfly. I, aghast and somewhat stunned, learned that no one, not one, of forty-some people had read the book. I hadn't seen the movie, pretty much because I fail to see how such a profound experience can be turned into something so banal, and because I generally lack appreciation for Julian Schnabel's love of French cleavage. While I see the point in the exercise (for us to have the experience of the patient's perspective), I wonder how such an amazing document (aka: 132 pages written with the blink of a single eye!) doesn't have more power than some crappy, post-modern cinematic reenactment. Super sad social commentary for a Wednesday afternoon.

The Feminist's Son

2009-01-25T21:19:00.000-08:00

The Kid asked if I wanted to hear a little ditty some boys at school had created.
"Sure," I said.
"Well," says he, "It goes, I'll give you a nickle to tickle my pickle."
"Oh, that's not right..."
"I know," he replied, "I think it would be more like a hundred dollars."