Ice buckets, ALS, good, evil & God…

Wow, who would have thought such debate & discord could ever come of the above ingredients?

First of all, let me say I’m not exactly a proponent of abortion. I’m not exactly against it, either. (Although I’m extremely anti late-stage abortion) It’s not my choice to make, if the outcome is burning in Hell for it, I won’t be burning for anyone else’s abortion. Being adopted, you can bet your butt I AM a proponent for adoption, but sadly, not all children are adopted by wonderful, caring, intelligent people like I was. Some have to live in Children’s Homes, orphanages, whatever you want to call them. Having personally seen what goes on IN those homes, the lives so many of those children have to lead, how it’s pure Hell on those children…well, I have to say possibly abortion would be the less cruel thing.

But that’s not my point.

The shock of cold experienced in the “Ice Bucket Challenge” somewhat mimics the extreme muscular and neurological pain ALS patients suffer all during the day. The purpose of the challenge- call attention to a disease many, many people have no clue about AND to produce an experience that allows for some empathy, not just sympathy, toward ALS patients.

ALS Association: Does use stem cells harvested from aborted fetuses and miscarriages, as well as those harvested from cord blood.

Abortion: Has happened for ages, despite legal and moral ramifications and shall continue to happen, despite legal or moral ramifications. Whether in a clinical setting or in a poorly lit alley, they are going to happen.

ALS is horrible. Your brain remains intact while your body shuts down, sometimes slowly, sometimes quickly, but you know and feel everything that is happening to you, possibly right up to the point that you know your lungs and heart will be paralyzed. I had a young patient die of ALS and knowing how much it hurt to watch a stranger dying of this disease, I promise you, I’d do pretty much anything in this world if my child or parent was suffering. From a religious point- I’d break every Commandment Moses brought down from the mountain, after all- my child IS a gift from GOD. HE entrusted me to take care of this child.

ALS Association, Abortion, Stem Cells & God: To the best of my knowledge, the ALS Association is not out there campaigning for women to have abortions. I have yet to be stopped on the street, with an offer to be impregnated and then to have an abortion so they could harvest some stem cells. As I said, abortion has happened and will continue to happen…why not let God, through scientific research, work some miracles from the remains? This is not condoning the original action, but making something good from it.

Is that not what the core of Christianity is? Taking that which is “evil” and turning it into that which is “good”?

Hover, Shift, Splash, Well Shit

I have a complaint! Now, I like how automatic toilets keep you from having to flush and either get ookey germs on your hands or risk dropping your shoe in the toilet when you flush via foot.

But dangit, I wish they weren’t quit so quick on the draw. I mean, at 44, I’m having a harder time maintaining The Hover Position…I’m either peeing more or have less stamina or something, because now in the midst of The Hover, I’m having to also execute The Foot Shift to maintain my balance.

Inevitably, when I execute The Foot Shift, the automatic toilet reads that as a sign that I’ve removed my butt from The Position and it starts into its automatic flush.


Now, while maintaining The Hover & executing The Foot Shift, I’m forced to make a choice…get my butt splashed with whatever the toilet throws at me (I mean, public toilets are like bidets–they spew when flushed!) or leave The Hover and stand up, possibly peeing down the back of my leg. Neither is a very pleasant option.

Um, ICK!

The Perch & Pray option went down the drain eons ago and when is the last time you actually saw a toilet seat cover dispenser with anything but dust in it?

There’s the option of covering the seat with half a roll of toilet paper, but some always ends up in the bowl and quickly wicks toilet water up to your butt, leaving you with that wide-eyed, oh-my-gawd-my-butt-has-toilet-water-on-it feeling.

Being a girl is just plain danged hard!

My Week Thus Far (Repeats of some statuses for my Facebook Friends)

*Red highlighting indicates facebook posts

This week has sucked royally.  I don’t want a do over on it, I just want it to BE OVER.

Monday- lousiest excuse for a staff meeting ever.  My RN was out sick (from stress, I’m guessing) and she’s the only one there who knows ANYTHING.  She and I know our patients, but the other LPN knows diddly and the other RNs know less than diddly.  So…that was 3 hours of my life I’ll never get back.  This after getting up to make coffee and a nice little house mouse goes skeeting from the kitchen to parts unknown.

Tuesday- I try to call my first patient, phone rings, he turns it on but says nothing.  I can hear the television blaring in the background and occasional odd breathing noises.  Hang up, call back, wash, rinse, repeat five times.  Sixth time- no answer.  Seventh time- no answer.  Call 911 and of course get the service for the county I’m in.  Explain I need 911 service for his county (I’m still 45 minutes out), they were very nice, got me in touch with the right county, they have a deputy in the area, he’ll check it out.

Never heard shit back from them, despite giving them my number.

Get to the patient finally and he’s gorked to the gills on pain meds and muscle relaxers.  >.< Heart rate 150, BP 60/40ish, he’s out there, somewhere.  Told me he’d been taking 2 Percocets and 2 Flexerils every two hours.  Dispatched him to the ER.

Did I mention this is my favorite patient ever?  He really is.  Love him like family.  The rest of the day was kinda downhill from there.

Oh, and the house mouse is still trying to set up house in MY house…

Today- At 5:23 AM Earl Mouse went to The Great Cheddar Wheel in the sky. If he’d had a tombstone, the epitaph would have read “I’d still be here if I hadn’t raised so much hell when the trap clamped down on my tail and I hadn’t woke Snigs up”. Mr. Mouse was named Earl postmortem, because as we all know, Earl Had to Die.

I skip off to work, happy to know Earl is gone (by the way, I bashed his tiny skull in with an unloaded 410 shotgun.  Don’t wake me up at 0523 if you don’t want the same treatment).

Had a relatively decent work day.  Everybody was upright and in fairly good health.

Then, stop by the grocery store on the way home and encounter:   To the little guy at Bells in Lexington,, who was buying his groceries (a box of Nilla Wafers, 2 boxes of HyTop cereal, a 4 lb bag of potatoes, a gallon of milk and a couple of packs of cookies):

I know you thought you were just THE SHIZ with your winged mullet and long sleeved oxford cloth shirt with the sleeves rolled up and the shirt unbuttoned nearly to your waist. And aside from the waist of his pants being somewhere close to his knees, I was amazed that your son was willingly (?) pulling off the same winged mullet as you.

I was further amazed that he was pulling off the same shitty attitude, but I digress.

Anyway, you really didn’t have to RUN to get in front of me in the check-out line. I would have let you in front of me. And when I laughed, it wasn’t a school girl giggle over how cute you [thought] you were, it was because I thought you were just hilarious running to get in front of me with my 3 items.

Oh, when the young lady opened another line and I casually walked over to it while you complained loudly YOU could have gotten in that line if you’d only known she was going to open that register, that raspberry I blew at you meant Kiss My Butt. You looked so confused I just had to explain.

Was typing that up when I hear The Boy and The Girl raising all sorts of hell in the other end of the house.  “WHAT THE HELL ARE Y’ALL DOING?” was answered by The Boy with “Um, you really don’t want to know.”.  Too vague an answer.  I repeated the question.  The Boy shows up at my bedroom door with “YOU REALLY DO NOT WANT TO KNOW!”.

Yes, I did…I HAD to push it…and…

I’m moving. The kids just found a freaking snake in the house. Oh hell no, white girl ain’t playing this shit. MAMA, I’M COMING HOME!

Ok, I took it to this city’s resident herpetologist and he says “Juvenile Rat Snake”. He took it out of the bottle and checked it out thoroughly.

Apparently, he {the snake} has a facebook account and saw there was a mouse in my house. He should have called before he came though.

MAMA!!! I’m spending the night at your house tonight!!!

My mother just laughed.


And it’s ONLY Wednesday!!

Click it, then share it PLEASE

The Husband’s oldest son recently hitched up with a girl who has two adorable kids.  Turns out, her handsome soccer playing, trampoline jumping, bike riding, pool swimming, 100% normal 6 year old son is a double amputee who doesn’t let that little fact slow him down.

With the most likes at THIS PAGE, he’ll get to be guest of honor at a Marvel Superheros show.

WHAT ARE YOU WAITING FOR?  CLICK IT AND SHARE!!  He’s currently at #11- *I* want him at #1 !

(He’s also a sweet little guy with really good manners and an awesome outlook on life!!)

In case anyone was wondering

Even though I love to shoot, cuss, drive like a fiend, and such…

and I don’t squeal like a girl (unless I’m being chased by a bee), or get all gushy over babies in general…

I still like the little critters and I can even still hold one!

This is The Husband’s Youngest Son’s new baby.

Oh, call me Granny and I will kick your ass nine ways to next Sunday. 😉


Road Trip

Road trippin’ to Tampa, Florida in 5 hours for a 24 hour stay, then bustin’ ass to get back before dark Sunday.

Oh, the things we do to be nice.

I hope autopilot is working well on the Caliber!


Took Daddy this morning to have spinal shots, hoping it eases the pain of the stenosis.  Hate to think of him living the rest of his years with this pain, but honestly, I don’t think he’d come out of surgery with positive results either.

Work is still full tilt.

I’ve had no further offers for jobs as hookers, nobody has nearly croaked (lately), I’ve had one complaint against me and two calls raving about excellent care.  The report against me was related to finding a little guy with a BP of 72/48.  I sent him to the ER since I couldn’t get his MD on the phone and did so according to office protocol.  There was nothing I could do for him in the field and he got 2000  ml of fluids at the hospital, confirming what I knew- he was dehydrated.  The family still bitched that he was exposed to too many germs in the hospital to have been “no worse than he was”.

Boo fuckem.  I’ll send him back again if I find him tachy, hypotensive and dry as a chip.

One of the rave reviews was from a family whose dad I sent to the ER for probable pneumonia.  The MD had the idea that he’d “lived a long and full life” and wasn’t real big on the idea of treating him for the pneumonia.  I called bullshit and asked if he’d like me to decide when *he* had lived *enough*.  Aggressive pneumonia treatment was initiated and my patient came home a brand new man.  He’s back from being unable to transfer from bed to wheel chair to walking in the yard, petting his chickens.

The other was just a family bragging on how I actually listened to them, their concerns and actually seemed to care.

Yeah….well, that’s ’cause I DO care.

The book progresses slowly.  Between working last weekend and a family reunion, I only got about a chapter and a half written.  I’ll get there, though. 😉

Here’s an excerpt from Chapter One, just to peak your interest…


Sighing, she lit another cigarette. The annoying voice from the GPS announced her turn coming up in three quarters of a mile. She picked up her cellphone and called her first patient.

“Good morning, Miss Louise! This is Katie, your nurse. How are you this morning?” She listened to the elderly lady give her a laundry list of aches and pains. Somewhere between slight constipation and hot flashes, Katie interrupted. “I’ll be there in about five minutes, Miss Louise. Put the dog in the back bedroom if you don’t mind, I’m not wanting to get bit first thing this morning.” She called her next five patients and gave them a fairly accurate time of arrival. She didn’t call Mr. Bud though. If he knew when she was coming, he’d spruce up the boudoir, in a feeble attempt to create a love nest to lure her into.

As if, you old goat, she thought.

She rolled into Miss Louise’s yard four minutes and thirty seconds later. Smoothing her white nursing uniform, she grabbed her bag and went to the door. Miss Louise’s rabid terrier announced her arrival in shrill fashion. With Precious locked away in the spare bedroom, Miss Louise opened the door, allowing Katie in. The visit was uneventful. Miss Louise loved to complain, but rarely had anything of merit to complain about.

Katie yawned. She tried to pretend it was because she hadn’t slept well the night before, but in all honesty, Miss Louise’s story of how her son, Horace, had shot at someone trespassing on their property was boring her beyond belief. It wasn’t like it was the first time she’d heard the tale and it had happened 43 years ago.

She glanced at the clock behind Miss Louise. She had 15 minutes to get to her next patient on time. “Well, Miss Louise. You’ve checked out a-okay. I pronounce you fit-as-a-fiddle until I come back next week. Now, you remember what I taught you about your medications and remember my #1 Rule: No falling!” Miss Louise laughed, promised to follow the rules and hugged Katie bye.

She worked through her next four patients, dispensing nursing education and advice, love and understanding to each patient, no matter their situation. It had been a good morning. Nobody was about to draw their last breath, nobody had any new pressure wounds or croupy lungs. Her patients were about as healthy as one could expect, considering their baseline ailments and frailties.

Her sixth patient wasn’t one of her favorites, but at least he wasn’t Mr. Bud. When she’d first learned of Mabry’s Guardian Home for Men, she’d been apprehensive. It sounded like a halfway house for bums and alcoholics. It turned out to be a home for bums and recovering drug addicts. Alcohol was no longer the drug of choice. Despite her apprehension, she always went in with a smile. Most of the residents returned the smile, there were a few who would leer from behind cracked doors and a few who just blankly stared.

Fred was one of the blank starers. She’d seen him three times before and despite the blank stare and flat affect, he’d always been cooperative. Too many hits from the crack pipe and too many bad trips had left him quiet and withdrawn mentally and physically, a “lump” as she and her colleagues referred to those who just sat. Katie went through her assessment questions, sometimes getting a yes or no, sometimes just getting a quick nod. Fred wasn’t one for conversation usually and today was no exception. She’d checked his temperature, listened to his heart and lungs and turned to get her blood pressure cuff from her kit.

Just as she’d begun to turn back around, Katie heard an almost animal sound coming from Fred as he bum-rushed her, driving his head into her left flank. Caught totally off guard and unprepared, Katie fell backwards, hard into the concrete wall of his room. The instant pain in her ribcage, nor the sickening sound of her head thudding against the concrete were enough to keep blackness from enveloping her. A second before she hit the floor, the two house attendants wrestled Fred back into his chair and hollered for someone to call 911.

Snigs In The Sun, With Glasses

me june 2014


Gone fishin’


Maybe fishing, but definitely swimming and picnicking.

Well, a storm ran us off before I got to the swimming part, but look THE GREY MAN went with me.  Thanks, NFO!!!

Y’all have a nice, relaxing Saturday now, ya hear?







You ain’t from ’round here, are ya?

Got a new patient assigned to me last week.  Nifty little guy, eat up with the pee-new-moany-yer along with several other ailments.

My problem?  Sweet little fella ain’t from around here…and speaks not EngRish!  I take that back, he did manage a fairly good Heh-row for hello, but that was it.

And ol’ Snigs doesn’t speak a damned bit of Laotian.

Houston, we have a problem.

I’m supposed to physically assess the patient, find out what they know about their medications, teach them about their disease processes, medications and such and this little guy and I can’t even remotely communicate verbally.

So starts the pantomime.

Held up the BP cuff, put my hand around my arm and squeezed, then pointed at him.  He seemed to understand.  Went through the same routine for temperature, listening to his heart and stomach, etc… without too much trouble.  He wasn’t thrilled with having to lean forward in his chair where I could listen to his lungs.  Maybe he thought I was requiring him to bow to me?  He finally moved enough I could wedge the stethoscope behind him and listen though.

Now, how to figure out what he’s been experiencing…

Point to my own chest, then heart, make heart beat noises, then make OMG IT HURTS! face. He shakes his head.

Continue on for breathing, stomach, head, etc…

Get to the questions about urination difficulties/pain/burning/odd odor… Um, yeah. Hmmm.


Finally made the gesture of flipping it out and writing my name in the snow, then made OMG IT HURTS! face, held my nose and made the PEEEE-UUUUU face waving my hand in front of my nose, etc…

When he finished laughing, he shook his head.

After I left, I got to thinking. I’d given him a lot of “thumbs up” for things that were good- BP, heart rate, etc… I sure hope “thumbs up” doesn’t mean something ugly in Laos.

Then, on to the medications.  Thank the gods, he only had three- an antibiotic, jet neb treatments and a prednisone dose pack.

And he wasn’t taking any of them.  Shit!

Antibiotic was once a day.  He’d been home three days and had only taken one.  Finally, I drew on the bottle a big clock and circled the 8.  He seemed to understand.

Next, jet nebs three times a day.  I drew another clock and circled the 8, then realized I needed to circle the 8 twice.  Hmmm…Ok, 3 clocks this time, one with 8 circled and a picture of the sun, one with 2 circled and another sun, then a third with the 8 circled and a moon.  Once again, he seemed to understand.

Prednisone dose pack…now there was a challenge.  He’d taken one of the first day’s six pills.  This one stumped me.  Hell, dose packs are hard enough for the English speaking variety to understand, let alone someone who doesn’t speak the language.  I tried googling the translation, but had no signal to use my phone and they had no internet.  I’ve tried my damnedest to find the instructions in other languages since I left- no dice.

I guess some things are beyond my ability.  I had him take a couple while I was there, then stopped back by later that afternoon and had him take the next one.  Told him to take 2 more at supper and one of us would drop by the next day.

The next morning I went and his wife met me at the door with a big HER-ROW and maybe a smile?  She was holding that dose pack and shaking her head wildly.  She started pointing at him and growling, then punching at the air.

I *think* she was saying the prednisone was making him “mean”. 

I decided to do what any good nurse would do at that point- I called the doc and sent them to him.

HE can figure out how to explain it to them.

Sheesh.  Some days, it’s just not worth chewing through the straps.

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