Ladies' Night

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

Congratulations, it's a....

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

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

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

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

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

Happy Birthday, Bonnie.

Thank You.

Cryopreservation

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

Riget

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

If You Listen to Me...

"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

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

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"

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

So I Let Go Now...

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

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, "Pole dancing!"


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

Bongwater & Blood

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

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

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.