Bigger or Better: Life outside of Texas

As the media has dredged up the horror of abuse of power and sexuality at the cost of human innocence, I cannot help but hurt. Oh, ladies, I am so sorry. Absolutely sorry. I weep with you to think of the pain, hurt, turmoil, self-doubt, and loss of trust that so many like-minded men have caused. It is painful to think how things could go wrong, and wrenchingly chilling to realize that it did, in fact, go wrong. It wronged girls, their families, and even the entirety of the human race. Such pervasive abuse has exacted an exorbitant cost, one that no human—or even a group of them--can repay: mental repercussions, physical reminders, maligned relationships, damaged integrity, and the growth of fear and hate instead of joy and love. This is a twisting of authority and a mangling of sex that we cannot stand for; indeed, that we are required to stand against. No man, no person, that commits sexual abuse can walk away unscathed. And for that, I also weep. How humanity has fallen! Like King D

When I got my patient assignment this past weekend, I knew it would be rough. Continuous bladder irrigation (CBI), Alzheimer's surgical patient, and an agitated/combative altered mental status (AMS) ER patient. It was the last one that worried me. At the start of shift, he appeared to be sleeping. While getting his breathing treatment, he aroused enough to sit up, thrash around, and say, "Wait a minute." I had hopes that he would swallow his pills (lasix for his super-crackly lungs, buspar for his agitation)...but it turns out that "Wait a minute" was a default setting and didn't represent alertness. He couldn't do what we asked (like open his mouth for pills. that would have been nice) even when he was agitated rather than sedated. His wife tried to get him to engage, to get him alert. She wheedled with food mostly. "You want a pancake? I have a pancake for you." At this point he was on BiPAP with a face mask, so the rapid response nurse (kin

A surprising amount of nursing work requires communication. So when I can't communicate with my patient (usually because of language barriers or hearing issues, but sometimes because of poor cognition), it feels like my job becomes twice as difficult. Out of the 3 potential scenarios mentioned, I prefer getting a hearing-impaired patient. As long as I don't have laryngitis, I can voice (haha, pun intended) my instructions, teaching, etc. by shouting. So for the past 3 days, I've been shouting to talk to my nearly-deaf patient. It's been a bit tricky, because I can't go into his room without donning the isolation gown/mask/gloves, so I have to shout even louder so that he can hear me from the door. A couple of times, my co-workers heard me and thought a patient was calling out for help. Nope. Just me. Yelling. Totally normal. I've experienced a similar situation before. Hearing-impaired old man, on isolation...except this one had a little bit of dementia,

There really isn't such a thing as "holidays" in the hospital setting. Since no one has figured out how to simultaneously cure sick people, even if it's only temporary, the hospital won't close and the nurses/doctors/assistants still need to show up to work. White, Fluffy, Cold stuff right outside our Houston home But I had Christmas Eve through New Year's Day off, so Mark and I went north to visit family and real snow (as compared to the morning-long wonder of Houston snow, which apparently doesn't count). Mark's interaction with Northern Snow was next to nil, since he had a cold and consequently spent most of the time indoors. That would have been my response, too, but I wanted to test out my new snow boots. I tromped around in it without getting cold and wet feet, so I call it a success. I've been accumulating winter gear ever since dating my Northern man; our first winter together, I tried out a new winter coat. Next winter item to co