jenny!

Jenny Jenny who can I turn to
you give something that I can hold on to
I know you think that I'm like the others before
I saw your name and number on the wall



Hi Jenny! Welcome to the ridiculousness I call my blahg. Anyway, you guys...say hi to Jenny. She lives in Dunsmuir, Cali...right by Mt. Shasta, home to the tastiest and coldest tap water I've ever had. I met Jenny when I moved to Cali in 1991. I got a job at this vegetarian cooperative restaurant in Davis. Within a week of meeting her, I dropped a tray, a bucket opener, and a plate on her head. Regardless of those mishaps, we became fast friends, spent lots of time together in and out of the restaurant/coffeehouse, and were in each other's weddings. After I had the twins, their nursery was in a shambles because they appeared almost 2 months early, and while I was in the hospital, Jenny put together the entire nursery for me. (I fucking love you for that. Thanks again.) Jenny always finds the most amazing places to live, including a loft with a perfect view of Mt. Shasta (she used to say, "it's almost too much!") and on a frog pond in Oregon. Last summer when I went to Cali to veg, I did it at her house...and of course, it's like the most amazing place, pretty much rebuilt by them, with a huge, prolific garden, a homemade fish pond, and a 30 second walk down to the Sacramento River (where I sat on a rock for days...). I might have to move there. (Can Zack, Kaela, Ursy, and I live in the 2nd bathroom?) Love love love to Dave, Fiona, and Rowan. I miss all of you more than you know.

when will we learn....

Like the castle in its corner
In a medieval game
I foresee terrible trouble
And I stay here just the same

Katie and I had a conversation tonight about expectations and disappointment. I give people the benefit of the doubt that they hang out with me cuz they want to, not just cuz I'm there or to pass the time til something better comes along. And while most people aren't like that, there has always gotta be the few who we expect certain things from, and they disappoint us. I do try and go with the flow, but like all of us, I don't like being second best. Especially if I used to be first.

Death was all around me this week. The ICU is no place to be. Wear a helmet. Wear a seatbelt. Don't douse yourself with oil and then light a match. If you want to kill yourself, try 2 different things so you make sure it works. Blood sugar levels topping 300 for years are gonna give you gangrene. Name calling of people who are bigger and stronger than you cuz you're drunk might get you pummeled with a baseball bat, which is gonna fucking hurt and might give you brain damage. Drinking a liter of vodka while driving an ATV is not smart. Falling asleep while you're driving....ok, off my soapbox...

Quote of yesterday: "Other people's stupidity is our job security." ---Wendy, the ICU nurse. Well stated.

Michaela informed me yesterday she's writing a report on the state of Missouri. Here's my report:


State capital: Jefferson City
State motto: State of misery
Population: 5.6 million
Known for: just a humid flyover state...don't waste your time
Highest point: Taum Sauk Mountain (they call 1772 feet a mountain?)
Lowest point: see paragraph 1

And that's the way it's done...

Quote of the year: "I am so terribly weird." ---Zack

fast forward...

...to the year 2015, when my kids are technically adults...I'm imagining this conversation as we are reading 9 years of jillyblahg archives (but it's probably on a computer the size of my soon-to-be new Ipod and not only will it let you read your email and play dominoes, it cooks dinner for you, too). (I know, gay.)

Zack: Oh my god you called me Zacky on your blog?
Michaela: Oh my god you let me leave the house like that?
Zack: Oh my god you made fun of everything I said?
Michaela: Was I on crack? Snowcone ballet?
Zack: Did we have a pet bunny growing up?
Michaela: I don't remember a bunny.
Zack: Me neither.
Michaela: You and Auntie Lisa did what?
Zack: Why is every other word "fuck?"
Michaela: Who was the punisher Mommo?
Zack: Why is Katie acting like a ninja?
Michaela: Oh my god, remember Katie? (HA HA, just kidding.)
Zack: Damn Mom you and your friends ate a lot of sushi.
Michaela: It's not nice to call everything gay.
Zack: Can you never show this crap to my girlfriend?
Michaela: I think you need therapy, Mom...

Pass the bong.

vaya con dios (this will only be funny to katie and colin)

Colin and Katie and I ventured back for all you can eat sushi. We invited Nathan from work but he already had plans. He told us to "Go with God." We did much better this time; we stopped after like 8 rolls and a few other sundries. Our waiter/ess (or he-she sushi server) made me laugh so hard I thought I was going to stop breathing at one point. When we left he told us we would be charged for lingering too long in the parking lot. Then he gave us his number so we can all hang out.

What is it with these sushi restaurants not opening until 5:00? I wonder if that's just a New Mexico thing, where during the afternoon people are either having a fiesta or a siesta. Sushibergs. They'd make more money if they were open all day.

Quote of the day: "I remember your name...it's...it's...Emtala!" ---Mickey...oh my fucking God!!!

this is gay

I'm sitting at Winnings with Katie (what else is new) writing a paper on what factors contribute to the heightened interest of the advanced nursing practice on a global level. How gay is this? Like I care what is happening in Australia or the Cayman Islands. I don't have a patient this week (thank god) because I'm spending the next 2 days in the ICU. Gay. Not interested anymore, and I was done (mentally) with this rotation like 3 weeks ago.

Yesterday I hung out with my crazy ex's son and when I dropped him off at home after our impromptu coffee date (which is gay in itself, since he's 13 and I quit coffee), John gave Miles $40 to give me "because my dad says he owes you money." GAY. He talks to me through his 13 year-old son? (But I will thank him for the cash, and I'm going to really start blogging about other things that I want and see if I can make them happen, too. Waiting for an email, btw. How gay is that.)

Everyone at Winnings is wearing camoflauge pants. GAY!! When I got dressed this morning and put mine on, I sure didn't want to be matching with all these gay people. And half of them really are gay, which makes it even gayer. Oh, and there's the pregnant woman AGAIN smoking AGAIN. One of these days I'm going to walk up to her and rip the fucking cigarette out of her mouth and stab her forehead with it. Isn't there enough information out there for even the not smartest person to understand that smoking is not good for the fetus???????????????????????? GAY!!!

Usually they play great music here, but they're playing this gay classical shit that is making me want to run down the street in slow motion and pass off the torch to the next camoflauge-clad person who doesn't drink coffee but is sitting in a coffee shop anyway.

Uh huh...card fan says on my blog that "Gorman Thomas is gay." Like the Cardinals aren't? They run around the field with cute little red tweety-like birds on their chests and matching socks. Gay.

Me: Why is Gorman Thomas gay?
Him: Cause he was not a very good player and badmouthed the Cards during the series. Then we pounded you fucks. wooohoooo
Me: Gorman Thomas specifically badmouthed the Cards?
Him: I think so. lol...ok, ok...I don't really know...I just wanted to say something about him on your blog.

GAY. Making shit up about other people just to post to my blog. That is so gay. And baseball players pounding other baseball players. I'm not even gonna go there.

I could go on forever about the gay shit, but I'm going to start manifesting things with the blog. I want my state tax refund. I want an A on my 2 finals. And I want an email that says, "No." Aight.

How gay is this blog?

high ticket

I'll buy you a diamond ring my friend if it makes you feel alright
I'll get you anything my friend if it makes you feel alright
'Cause I don't care too much for money, money can't buy me love

I grew up in the upper middle class suburbs of hell. One of my best friends from high school inherited $1 million on her 16th birthday. High ticket items were abundant...jewelry, nice clothes, fancy cars, top-of-the-line drugs. Money was no object; it flowed like water (well, like how water flows anywhere but the desert).

Now after a few moves and almost 20 years, I find myself in the poor yet culturally diverse metropolis of the burque. You can live here on student loans and child support and do all right. Or you can live on loans and hand-outs from your parents and a little bit of a student paycheck and be fine as well. I'm well above poverty level. No one is missing anything.

Zack played catcher tonight for a couple of innings and he rocked. He also did great at 3rd base and in centerfield. My friend Diana (notice her shirt!) and her kids came to watch the game. I got to pick up all 4 kids from school. They all greeted me with hugs and Owen told my fortune in the car. (I'm a jerk...a junior educated rich kid, btw. Fitting.)

Those kids are gold. Nothing else really matters...my world can feel like it is caving in around me, I can get crappy grades in school, a doctor can tell me she thinks I have a brain tumor, someone can convince me that they are in love with me and have to kiss me and then stop speaking to me, whatever...those babes right there are my high ticket items.

So you, out there...sitting on your pretty couch, driving your BMW or your Mercedes, living in your big house, jonesing for high ticket items, and hating your life...think about what really makes you happy, and get it, and then be faithful and loyal to it. But it ain't in the form of "stuff"...money won't make your world go round. I've had it, and it's not the end-all. I promise.

Quote of the day: "Here Mommy, take a picture of me for your blog. And write down that I'm doing snowcone ballet. Maybe make it the quote of the day." ---Michaela...There you go, K. I fucking love that kid.

i give up

Last night I had nightmares about that fucking test. I totally studied, knew that shit backwards and forwards. I could write essays on PUD, GERD, ulcerative colitis, Crohn's (and I even know how to SPELL it), Myasthenia Gravis, strokes, and seizures. Hopefully someone will take my suggestion and Bush will start teaching that class as soon as Feingold is elected. (A good-looking jew for president. Hmmm. and 1 degree of separation - his sister was one of our rabbis growing up. I could be an intern!)

(Btw, I just listened to my voicemail, and one cannot fail 505. It is a mathematical impossibility. And no, my children are not up at 11:00 pm and therefore cannot be suspects in a violent crime. Yes, I received the plane ticket you sent me, and I look forward to sitting on the beach of the Atlantic Ocean for a few days. Yes, I can probably find you an effective pharmaceutical intervention for the family reunion. God, I get exciting voicemails...and now I don't have to call anyone back.)

But back to my shitty day yesterday...here's the thing...you fuck up a test, and that's it. There is no going back and fixing it. And then people look at you disapprovingly like, "how could you NOT think like me? And how could you NOT know that this is what I meant? I say one thing but obviously that's not what I mean..." I can't read people's minds, I can only go on what people tell me and then make choices based on what I believe is true and real.

Ok. So I shouldn't have jet-setted. I'm regretting that more than anyone knows for lots of reasons. But I can't go back and fix it. I'll deal with my first B, among other consequences. It's not like it didn't fuck up my heart, too.

tales of jill and lisa part 1

When everything's a little clearer in the light of day
And you know the night is always gonna be there any way
Sky rockets in flight
Afternoon delight

Our lovely president gave a speech today and pronounced the word "heinous" "HAY-knee-us." He should teach med/surg and skills.

Katie and Adriana and I went for dinner and a walk tonight and ran into this bear holding a fish. There is no water anywhere around here, so I have no idea what the hell it was doing just hanging out on Dartmouth. Anyway, then we saw some cool 13 year-olds and I really wanted to play with them. Made me all sentimental about being 13 and hanging out with my best friend, Lisa. (Lisa, what the fuck? Are you reading my blog or what?)

So as I was saying, one time Lisa and I took a shot of everything from my mother's liquor cabinet (how 80's is a liquor cabinet) and mixed them all together in a pitcher with water and then drank as much as we could...then we dumped the rest of the pitcher in the backyard and killed a patch of grass. I seem to remember there were tornado warnings that day. And we were both puking our guts out. When my poor mother came home from work, I told her I had the flu and she took really good care of me. If jews believed in hell, I'd be on my way for that one.

Lisa and I got into tons of trouble. My father says that my children are now payback for what Lisa and I did as kids. Nice.

So did you like my comment on Katie's blog about getting drunk in Liz Waters and then getting kicked out by a surly housefellow cuz i told the Pizza Pit driver (after seeing the side of the box that said, "free, fast, and hot") "that's how i like my men?" That was 18, btw, but still...forever clever...

Oh, and one more thing. I did NOT mean to hit anyone in the head with a Twix bar. Let's never forget that moment though.

neurologic overload

It's the part of the dream that leaves me wanting for the darkness
It's the part of the dream I can't remember it at all
I dreamed about you last night

Adriana and I spent the better part of today at Satellite studying for our exam. But over a salmon and mandarin orange salad as we were discussing each of our very sexy dreams from last night, we heard that song. Coooooool...

Quote of the day: "Sinemet bridges the gap." ---Adriana

i love gorman thomas

Take me out to the ball game,
Take me out with the crowd
Buy me some peanuts and cracker jacks
I don't care if I never get back
Let me root, root, root for the Brewers
If they don't win it's a shame
For it's one, two, three strikes, you're out
At the old ball game

When I was 10 I took my allowance money to Bayshore Mall and had a t-shirt made that said "I LOVE GORMAN THOMAS." Then I wore it to County Stadium for Sundance Photo Night and had my picture taken with none other than Gorman Thomas. I loved him. He either struck out or hit home runs (so did I). He played centerfield (so did I). He was #20 (so was I in softball and volleyball...I made sure of that.) His birthday was December 12th (so is mine). We were soulmates. Next time I go home I will dig out a picture of me ridiculously professing my love for him. (He didn't give a shit, btw.) My parents have a friend who used to be a scout for the Brewers and got us all kinds of great tickets and fun Brewers-related loot. I got the autographed picture. And primo tickets to the 1982 World Series against the St. Louis Cardinals. We lost.

I've never said this before, and I may never say it again, but GO CUBS. Fuck the Cardinals.

ok, ok

The blog will become funny again right now...no more relationship rants.

But whoever is posting anonymous "I miss you" comments...either cut it out, or give up your identity.

Thank you,
The Management

ex-blog #2

So today would have been mine and the ex's anniversary. I've been thinking about the few months leading up to d-day where she took little things away day by day and then had me convinced that I was crazy and paranoid before she finally admitted, "yes, I've been cheating on you, and yes, we're through." People do that shit. Things are sailing along smoothly and they wake up one day and decide they're gonna change all the rules. They don't always tell you, though, cuz they gotta keep you as back-up in case the new thing doesn't work out, so you gotta just kinda figure out by their mood and the way they are treating you that something might be wrong. And then you know you're right when you ask and they get all huffy...

Then there are the people like my crazy I'm gonna ruin all your A&P tests ex who owe me money but are never gonna pay it back. Ok, it's only like $250, but still. He knew all along he owed me money from a few various mishaps where we snuck into the emergency stash, and promised to pay me back, but when we broke up:

Me: And you owe me money. Pay up.
Him: Fuck that. You're a jew, you're made of money.
Me: Fuck you. And your obsession with the jewess. Pay up.
Him: You got receipts?

Then there are the people who withhold things from you and don't answer your phone calls. Katie bought a wheel for her bicycle when she was in Madtown in January and her exboyfriend was gonna send it to her. Now...it is April 22nd, Earth Day, a day we should all be hanging up our car keys and putting on padded shorts to more fully enjoy our gel seats. But...no wheel. 17,000 phone calls later and only one of them answered, no wheel. Begging and pleading, promises of "I will leave you alone if you just send my fucking wheel"...no wheel. Is Eric holding the wheel over her head, just wanting to retain control of one last little piece of the relationship that has been blown to pieces like a tire plowing through a pile of nails?

And you all wonder why I spend so much time with my dog.

truth serum

To keep in silence I resigned
My friends would think I was a nut
Turning water into wine
Open doors would soon be shut
So I went from day to day
Though my life was in a rut
Til I thought of what I'd say
Which connection I should cut

So the 8 year-olds and I went to Trader Joe's tonight and I found myself drooling in the wine aisle. I don't really even drink wine unless someone else is plying me with it for ulterior motives or it's Passover, but you gotta buy the wine at Trader Joe's just for the labels. Anyway, I was just going to drink a small glass but then a few things happened:

a) wine makes my jaw hurt but it also makes my limbs go numb which is really fun

b) it was really tasty

c) you know how you get that cork 1 in every 100 bottles that doesn't actually come out nicely in one piece? well, the cork is IN the bottle which means I cannot recork it, so I had to drink the whole bottle

I was in the kitchen making dinner for the people who drive me to drink wine and Zack said, "Oh my god Mommo, it looks like someone rubbed grapes all over your butt." So then I got to thinking...how could I enjoy the systemic effects of this vino more efficiently? I heard someone ask today, "What happens if you drink a morphine injection?" Well, what happens if I put an IV in my arm and just mainline the wine? Better yet, how about a central line...push that junk right into my superior vena cava. Katie wants to try an NG tube so that wine can just haul ass into her stomach and work its magic without her having to drink it. (But Katie also wants a foley so she doesn't have to get out of bed all weekend, so she needs to be committed.)

I used to live about 45 minutes from Napa Valley and spent lots of time there. Mostly we would stop and get buzzed on the way to my ex's homophobic republican parents' house in Marin County. Albuquerque is so different. The only spirits they're cooking up here is malt liquor in unidentifiable thermos type packaging that you grab on your way out to your car (Keys? check. Celly? check. Thermos? check.). When you drive through Milwaukee, it smells like yeast from the breweries. When you drive through Napa, it smells like wine (well, and all the 2nd hand smoke wafting from 8 foot bongs from all the northern California greenbud hounds). New Mexico? Smells like green chili and thermos beer.

Due to HIPAA, I can't say much except hopefully my patient is in a better place. May she rest in peace.

the ex-blog #1

Apparently Colin believes that my ass bruise is holy. "You may be a jew, but your ass belongs to Jesus," he told me. Thank god you can all see what it looks like on day 2...

I am dedicating my weekend to learning the ins and outs of the GI and neuro systems so that I can ace our med/surg test like Colin's gonna ace his drug test tomorrow. No sperm donors calling me the c-word and starting unproductive, high-schoolish fights, no jet-setting, no threats of brain tumors. Life is good today, and it shall stay this way through Monday morning. I am turning off my phone.

Interestingly, the night before every anatomy & physiology test (both semesters), some catastrophe occurred that completely blew my ability to study. Thanks to sexy Jim Swan's policy of giving extra credit, (and all the people who passed down old tests) I still did well in those classes. Last summer I ran into my crazy ex and he came clean...having an "in" in the biology department, he found out the test schedule, and purposely fucked me up the night before every test just to see if I'd crumble under pressure. "You were stellar, Frankel. You should go to medical school." With friends like that, who needs necrotizing fasciitis?

It is 9:00...ER is a repeat, the 8 year-olds are passed out, and I have to get up at 5:00. Sweet dreams...

fuck

Someday I'm going to start loving Wednesdays again but it ain't today. Next semester when someone asks if we can do clinicals on Thursday and Friday, we need to say hell no. Cuz right now we could be at the fucking Copper Lounge drinking $2 pints of Guinness playing "I never" with a bunch of uptight geeky math majors who think we're whores but who secretly want us to be really dirty with them. I'm still annoyed about that. They all drank for the face one AND for the pubic hair in teeth one. Pot. Kettle. Black. Sticky.

Today I got 2 phone messages telling me I'm an asshole for not calling people back, and "what the hell did I do to you so now you are not speaking to me?" First of all, I am an adult. So if I "stop speaking to you" you will not be wondering why, you will know. Second, you know where you get an egg and you have to take care of it like it's your kid for a certain period of time? We should start a program where we take people who do not have jobs or kids or 18 credits or 20 hours per week of clinicals and insert them into our lives for a few days. You get all this shit done and find time for everything else in the fucking world and then call me up when I'm feeling all neglected and tell me why the only thing you want to do is settle in at night after a few games of online dominoes with undemanding competitors and then crawl in bed with your fuzzy, battery-operated friend who doesn't talk or hog the bed. Hop to it, conejito.

Today I also completely wiped out in the shower and I told Katie I'd post a picture of the bruises on my ass. So there you go. My ass is officially on my blog; my mother would be so proud. Let's see what color that shit is tomorrow.

Ozomatli is on Sex and the City. Katie, can we please move to NYC?

Ma nishtana halayla hazeh mi kol halaylot?

Katie and I were just having an interesting theological discussion that went something like this:

Katie: Adriana is writing the coolest paper on celiac disease
Jill: I know. Did you know that people who have celiac can't eat the wafer?
Katie: Did you know Lutherans don't believe it's actually a piece of him but Catholics do?
Jill: something inappropriate that can't be repeated
Katie: something else inappropriate that can't be repeated
Jill and Katie: ha ha ha ha
Jill: Did you know Jews believe there is no savior because the messiah has not yet come?
Katie: So you guys are gonna eat him when he gets here?

Pass the bong.

highs and lows

Yesterday it was 80 degrees in the burque, and tonight it's gonna be 18 degrees up north. And today when I took the kids to school, gas at 7-11 in the hetero heights was $2.71. 20 minutes later on my way back home, it was $2.86. I feel like I'm on a rollercoaster.

it's not like i pay them to say this stuff...

Sweet pain...is sometimes what you need
Sweet pain...it allows the blood to bleed
Sweet pain...from the moment of your birth
Sweet pain...you know it keeps you here on Earth

So today when I picked up the 8 year-olds they informed me that they'd made a list (I love lists!) of fantastic facts about Mommo. But really, it was an analysis of how Mommo compares to the baby daddy (or as I will now refer to him: the sperm donor).

Fantastic Facts About Mommo:
1. "You take us out of the house more." (What are they, dogs?)
2. "You keep track of your things."
3. "You always know how to get where we are going."
4. "UGH. The biggest one. You don't listen to talk radio." (And then came a collective groan from the backseat.)

Then when Zack got home from baseball he told me he appreciates it that I don't mind if he toots in the car. Anyway, I'm not really about comparing parents (my own, yes, but not me against the sperm donor), but it was fun to hear.

I got my federal tax refund today. Lots of zeros, so I am good to go til the next financial aid check falls out of the sky. Here's my question of the day...if tax season is from January 1st until April 15th, what the hell do accountants do the other 8 1/2 months of the year? Slackers with cushy jobs? Perhaps I have chosen the wrong career path.

Quote of the (other) day: "If I had a whole bunch of money I'd still work, and I'd start a scholarship for other nurses with big boobs." ---Shenoa

ghost blog #1

When things get crappy…

Can you believe that the coffee shop was not open yesterday? I hardly knew what to do with myself. Jill, Colin and I ended up across the street at Java the Hut. While evaluating ECGs (or FCGs, fucked CGs) we compared our current relationships to the electrical tracing. “Katie, you are at Q right now but you know that R is coming and you can really look forward to T.” We extolled the simplicity of the P wave or even the baseline lack of electrical activity. When our relationships get tachy, do we allow them to progress to asystole? Some of us, okay maybe just me, want to push the heart to its very limits. If I call you the worst name possible, can you forgive me or will you never speak to me again? Am I lovable even when in a rage and out of control?

I don’t believe that our relationships are linear or even ECGular, sometimes we are close and sometimes we are distant. I lived in Mozonte for 2 years without a phone or email and with a less than reliable postal service. Some of my relationships recovered from that. Others are still rebounding 2 years status post Peace Corps. The distance was an obvious result of an experience I chose. I think that is different from cutting someone out. You always have a choice as to who is in your life and you can walk away if you want, wean yourself from someone, allow asystole rather than survive with angina pectoris. I think that there are people “we are born to” that we are still meeting and getting to know (Frankel, 2006). Like family we forgive them and do not put conditions on the love, do not map it like an ECG with a predictable path, do not expect it to be painless…

Weaning is for weenies.

(and then there is atherosclerosis, the people that you cant get out of your arteries, but thats a whole different disease process now isnt it Jill?)

death by blogging

Ok, you guys have to promise me...PROMISE me...that if something happens to me you will NEVER, EVER let ANYONE besides those of you who read my blog get their hands on my blog address. My CNN article will read something like:

"Frankel, who died from battery acid poisioning, wrote in her online diary about her love for bunnies and her disdain for the stupidity and ignorance of the human race. She let people cheat off of her tests, fantasized about putting her children in cages, and openly disrespected her mother.

I am amending my living will. Carry out my wishes. Don't give up my blog address.

Aight.

shhhhhh?

Nobody told me silence is golden
I think I could run but I know that I never could hide

What's fucked up about relationships is that we should just get to say what we need to say without being punished. Understandably, everyone has their own agenda and wants things but on their own terms.

I think my mother operates under the "don't ask, don't tell" policy until I tell when she asks and her response is so completely fucked up I wonder why I tell her stuff at all. Not everything is my fault, and not everything is about you. Just thought you might like to know...

I've processed stuff by myself, but I feel like there are some things people can know. And even if they can't really do anything for you except ask how you are, make a bad joke that makes you smile when you're feeling like shit and not in the mood to fucking smile, or just think about you and hope you're ok, that's enough for me.

This song has been in my head for weeks. Makes me think about how some people in our lives are automatically there (like if we are born to them) and some people are chosen. And even though we're all so incredibly diverse in how we view life and deal with things, there's something that brings us together and makes us want to stick around. I'm not gonna get all religious in my blog (even though it is Easter and y'all know how obsessed I am with catholicism and bunnies), but I will thank god that I have some really amazing people in my life.

watch a city burn

yes it is easy being green

Mind the empty bottle
with the holes along the bottom
You see it’s too much to ask for and
I’m not the doctor

Today I spent the day in the OR and I was given access to the internal you don't have to check them out you just grab them from a cart surgical scrub supply. When I left the hospital I kept waiting for alarms to go off and people to fall out of the sky with parachutes and tackle me and rip off my scrubs, but I actually made it home with my green scrubs on.

When my patient woke up in the recovery room, she made me tell her all the details of what they did to her. Then we spoke French to each other for an hour and she told me I was the daughter she never had. Made me forget about crappy shit for awhile.

Quote of the day: "Well no wonder I feel like I got hit by a fucking train." ---my patient, after I told her about the surgery. Ouch.

Other quote of the day: "Oh my god, you instantly look so much smarter." ---Katie, when she saw me in green scrubs.

Quote of the week: "Was it her husband who ran her over?" ---Jean...omg, I love her...

you have 8 new messages...

Yo, whatsup, this is Mary,
I'm not home, leave a message, peace

One time some woman called Colin's phone and left a 12-minute orgasm on his voicemail. She had the wrong number. Thankfully, I have never had an orgasm on anyone's voicemail. Not that I can remember anyway.

Here's a transcript of a voicemail message I got today:

"Ah yes, hello Mrs. Frankel, this is Chief Orthopaedic surgeon Mr. Ray Romero down here at UNMH and we have a patient, Mr. Colin Crook who came in with acute sushi-itis of his upper gastro intestinal tract and we believe it occurred from eating mass quantities of undercooked fish. Now according to his statement you also consumed the same amount of sushi and we would like to schedule you for an upper esophageal duostenal endoscopy please...so if you could give us a call at your earliest convenience, this IS life threatening and this IS in your best interest. Thank you very much ma'am and have a good day."

Um...a few um comments...the Chief Orthopaedic surgeon refers to himself as "Mr." How unpretentious is that. I love him. And what the fuck is an esophageal duostenal endoscopy? And has anyone actually talked to Colin?

God, I'm still full.

we are pleased to inform you...

After a way-too-long wait, Thais just found out she got into nursing school...she's starting the accelerated program this fall. Congratulations! You are gonna be one fabulous nurse. Oh...and talk to me before you buy your books.

chain lightning

Well I sat down next to a photograph
Tried my best almost made her laugh
She was my toughest crowd
There in the way was a moutain up in the clouds

Today, Zack said, "Look Mommo, I made a 50-foot paper chain just for you!" Oy. How can I turn that down? I guess we are going to string paper all over our ceilings. At least we're not like the rednecks who leave their Christmas lights up all year round. Oh wait...

Michaela is doing subtraction, so we hung out in the sun at Zack's game and talked about all the things we're gonna buy when I get my tax refund (including a new window).

Mornings like today make me love New Mexico. Spring storms loom over the Sandias while the sun shines through blue skies over Mt. Taylor. And here is tonight's sunset.

I'm considering quoting the crazy naturalist on Seinfeld in my Nursing 505 write-up on economic evaluations of health care programs and services. Is that wrong?

position open on jillyblahg

Position Title: Ghost Writer
Hours: TBA
Qualifications: Just be able to write a cool thought, story, or pondering about life (that hopefully has something to do with me, since it's my blog. Egocentric? Perhaps. But oh well).
Pay: If you live here, I'll buy you coffee. If you don't, I'll work something out.

Come one, come all! I know you guys can write. I'm sure someone out there has written a paper or a short story, or served as the editor of their high school newspaper or something.

Here's your chance to regale us with a funny story, tell everyone how much you love me, or for some of you, even bludgeon me. Don't be shy. Be a ghostwriter! Who knows...it could be a goldmine...

the oh my god i'm gonna hurl roll

Great green globs of greasy grimy gopher guts,
Mutilated monkey meat, little birdies dirty feet,
Great green globs of greasy grimy gopher guts,
And I forgot my spoon!

So Colin, Katie, Nathan from work, and I went out for all you can eat sushi, a new experience for me. $20, whatever you want. This is a bargain. That's $160 of sushi in those 2 pictures, which we got for half price. Rawfishbergs. (Oh, and by the way, a "blowroll" is not me laughing so hard raw fish comes out of my nose. Use your imagination for that one.) About a third of the way into the second coming we all thought we were gonna die, and then Nicki, our waiter/ress threw us the caveat: eat it all or pay full price for it. Katie and I hoarded sushi in napkins and then stashed them in our purses (a la Jerry and the mutton) and Colin and Nathan did their best to keep eating. I actually made it home, did not throw up, and was not chased by a pack of dogs. I was gonna write a poem about glutton and mutton and undoing buttons but I'll refrain.

Katie and I took the hearse to campus today to run errands (read: bum around), and someone built this "sh" sculpture in front of Humanities. Having the same thought at the same time, we made our own performance art.

It is not even 10:00, yet I have been having such sweet dreams lately, I am going to bed. I wish I could return to a dream I had this morning where I was hanging out with a friend I might lose for reasons that escape me. Just so you know, I'd trade in all the sushi in the world to keep that from happening.

Quote of the day: "I don't need the rabbit. I have the Mitsubishi Magic Wand. It plugs into the fucking wall." ---Katie, during Med/Surg, when we both almost had to go to the bathroom. Yeah, whatever. Don't knock the bunny til you've had him.

if you wanna be a lobo...i mean a badger...

In the backwash of fennario
The black and bloody mire
The dire wolf collects his dues
While the boys sing 'round the fire



The violinist extraordinaire gave me 2 tickets to see Peter and the Wolf today, so I took Michaela who loved it as much as I did. And here she is with Louie Lobo, the only wolf who was actually in attendance...

Go Badgers! Fuck the Final Four, we've got the Frozen Four. And right in my home town. Here's a shout-out to the women's hockey team as well...they won the championship, too. Fuck em Bucky.

Quote of the day: "I don't get art but music makes me drip." ---me, to Katie, NOT Michaela.

this is it...for awhile

Oh yeah, all right
Are you going to be in my dreams tonight?
And in the end the love you take
Is equal to the love you make

I have job interviews next week for nurse extern positions in the Special Care Nursery and Mother and Baby. Ironic, since if things would have turned out differently last October, Sunday would have been my due date. I don't always like the kids I have, so it's probably best.

I'm going on blog hiatus. You guys are gonna have to read Katie's blog for entertainment for now.

OUT

nemaste!

Ok...Katie...Nathan...did either of you read the email from Gwen? Apparently she and her husband are writing a "sexy novel full of adventure, prescient knowledge and "true love". Heh, heh!" Omg. OMG. Only Gwen. Shit. What a great email.

Behind the shelter in the middle of a roundabout
The pretty nurse is selling poppies from a tray
And though she feels as if she's in a play
She is anyway

Tonight Colin and I went out for sushi. Over tuna, salmon, crab, and scallops, we talked about our patients, ng tubes, chest tubes, foleys, GI issues, and death. And we just continued to eat, unaffected by the material. I guess nursing school gives you a steel stomach or something.

Colin...it was great to see you. xoxo

Quote of the night: "You gotta eat that one...that's just too much fish for me." ---moi....no explanation, right? (but what was the response? about high school boys?)

it's all a mystery to me

Oh the pirate gets the ship and the girl tonight
Breaks a bottle to christen her
Basking in the exploits of her thief
She’s a very good listener
Maybe that’s all that we need
Is to meet in the middle of impossibility
We’re standing at opposite poles
Equal partners in a mystery

If I think about where I was at 10 years ago, 3 years ago, 6 months ago...it's hard to fathom how entwined I was with people who are no longer a significant part of my life. Of course there are my friends I've been close to for as long as I can remember, and new friends who have become really important to me in a relatively short period of time. I realize at any point we can fall out of favor, and those who are close to us can bail on us. Some people in your life might even be planning a relationship execution and have begun weaning themselves from you as you read this, and you may or may not know it. My new new year's resolution (come on, it's only April) is to try and just enjoy the time I have with everyone instead of worrying about being weaned. Hopefully I'm just indispensable.

Quote of the day: "You're in until you're out." So true.

the padrebergs

Michaela and I watched Zack play in his first baseball game of the season last night. He hit a double and grounded a bunch of balls playing third base. My baby wears a cup. Oh my god....I forgot how crazy that is.



And yes, my other baby is wearing a scrunchy, but she's 8, so she can get away with it. When she grows up and becomes a veterinarian (so she says now), I will put my foot down and not let her match her scrunchies to her stethoscope. But I will admit that even I wear them when I'm hanging out watching American Idol...

our instructor just said "alls you need to do"

So on the way to class this morning, one of our Navy-enlisted classmates said to me, "Colin and Adriana and I were reading your blog the other day and it was so funny we were crying." Apparently he came up with Juanberg. Very nice. I didn't know he had it in him. (Oh, and anyone who says my blog is stupid is just ridiculous. FYI.)

Last night I went to see a group of very talented musicians perform crazy pieces written by contemporary composers. A man did a really amazing piece on just one bass drum, another woman sang a song about a fox to the english horn. I get the weird music as music thing, but I still don't get art all the time even though Katie has tried to explain it. Anyway, the violinist extraordinaire is also violist extraordinaire. His performance sounded like a cartoon soundtrack. All I could think about was Bugs Bunny.

Quote of the morning: "Is that like a rabbit?" ---Colin, when I told Katie there was a 15-minute piece on a french horn. No Colin, a french horn. And it was English anyway...I was wrong.

8 going on 18, but not by my choice

A few thoughts for a beautiful yet rollercoaster-ish Sunday...

I spent a chunk of my weekend with the violinist extraordinaire who does not yet get a name. Colin says it's like the eskimo tradition of not naming their younglings until they are real people (around age 3) or not naming animals when you are out hunting because it gives them a spirit and then, well, you gotta make the kill. If things progress I might grant him more than occupational (or therapeutic) references. But for now...

Other people are not going to be so lucky. This morning the once-esteemed and now in-the-doghouse exhusband called me a bad bad bad name in front of my 8 year-olds. Think of the worst name you could call someone and it's not that one, it's the one that's even worse. Yes, I was pushing buttons (we both were) during a heated argument about...um...I can't remember what it was about. There is a reason we are no longer married. Anyway, I told him I was going to blog him and he said, "I don't give a shit, your blog is stupid." STUPID!! OMG. That was worse than being called the c-word. Almost.

Alas, this is the polarity that was my weekend...spending time with an intelligent, talented, reasonable, affectionate man...and then coming home.

I gotta move out.

Quote of the week: "Yes, you are. But have some chips." ---the punisher, after he offered me some chips and I said, "No thanks, I'm good." Ahhhhh. Feeling so proud of myself...

pick his brain...

Ok...so yeah, I will admit that it's fun to see cute people and drool over them and wonder what it would be like to 73 with them, but there is this whole other aspect of people that turns me on way more. Those crazy ideas and passions in people's minds and hearts make them so much sexier than their looks alone. Especially when you have deep, thought-provoking conversations that make your head spin, or someone tells you something that makes you think of them while you're walking to class, making dinner, taking a shower, being punished by someone else, whatever. I'm convinced...the "cutest" (by society's standards) people out there ain't where it's at. It goes wayyyyy deeper. And I'm a mother...I know best. Ok?

i have entered the twilight zone

Winnings is such a weird place. Not only are the hippies and the elderly couples here, there is the guy wearing black with the stretchy earring things who has one of his arms tattooed solid black, the woman who i can only tell is a woman because of the outline of her sports bra, Katie's patient's brother (weird in itself), the lesbian couples, Katie's new gay boyfriend, a woman sitting outside who looks like Kelli but she has her lip pierced and she's wearing a blue boa (wtf?), Paul, who is learning Chinese (he's still dressed, see? that's him in the picture), a geeky looking woman in khaki's and a pink sweater who has dyed her hair the color of Cookie Monster, and the smattering of wannabe rastafarians who should be in Dulce. White people with dreds...it makes no sense to me.

Ok...I'm gonna go try and take pictures of all these people for my blog. I wonder if I have to get releases?

janeya and her amazing technicolor dreamhair

It was red and yellow and green and brown
and scarlet and black and ochre and peach
and ruby and olive and violet and fawn
and lilac and gold and chocolate and mauve
and cream and crimson and silver and rose
and azure and lemon and russet and gray
and purple and white and pink and orange and blue

Katie asks if I have finished writing "Janeya's amazing technicolor dream hair" yet. I am almost done. Have you seen the real play? Where Joseph gets dragged off to Egypt by his (evil) brothers and then they spill blood all over his coat to make it look like he was killed? Ok well in MY version...all of the nurses on 4 east drag Janeya down to get her hair did. No wait. All of the nurses on 4 east drag Janeya down to the OR and dump her there and the OR nurses wonder what has happened to her...because upon inspection, her hair is all those colors after doing wound care, redressing a chest tube drain, changing diapers, inserting a foley, etc.

That cannot be sterile, right? Someone needs to tell her to put her hair up. Adriana? Nathan?

Excellent accomplishment of the day (yesterday): I did my first real IV and it took about 5 seconds. I wanted to take a picture but apparently I'd have to have my patient sign a release or I could go to prison. Oh well. I miss her, she was cool to hang out with. I hope she got to go home yesterday...maybe we'll run into her at Dunkin Donuts in the South Valley.