Lately I have been seeing so many things on facebook regarding Christmas. Ugh. Honestly, it's becoming more than I can bare so I am going to address some of those things from my point of view.
First, I will address the whole "Keep Christ in Christmas" thing. Well, how can Christ not be in Christmas isn't that what the whole "(Christ)mas word is....how can you take him out. Oh, I know, there are people who celebrate the Holiday without acknowledging the whole meaning. Gifts are where it's at...Santa Claus means more then the fact that baby Jesus was born that day. Yes, you can take Christ out of Christmas, but really, if you want Christ in Christmas make it that way for you. It isn't for you to judge whether someone else is doing the whole thing right, it's for you to make sure that the meaning isn't lost on your family, during your time, at the meal etc. Keeping anything in your celebration is for you to control...not for you to control in others. Judgment? What does that have to do with Christ? Yes, society is getting more and more commercialized, I have seen it with my own eyes, but honestly, if you do what you want to do, and you celebrate it the way you see fit....well isn't that all that really matters?
Second, the whole "It's Merry Christmas, not Happy Holidays". This whole thing drives me a little around the bend. For me, any pleasant greeting I get is better than what I could get...I am just grateful that people are willing to share glad tidings no matter what they say. Isn't it better to be wished something than nothing at all....for goodness sakes, it's not just Christmas during this time of year, it's a lot of things so why not just be happy saying whatever you wish and hearing whatever someone else would like to give you. Honestly, if I were to share how I absolutely feel about this whole thing it would be this. To say that people must say "Merry Christmas" is so arrogant. To think that your Holiday is more important than any other Holiday celebrated at this time of year is a bigoted way to think. Yes, more people in your particular area of the world just might be celebrating Christmas than any other Holiday, but there are always those that do not. Saying that one must wish people "Merry Christmas" is so single minded....I would much rather be inclusive than divided, I would much rather not take this time of year and use it to offend others, or even to maybe take the chance of offending. This time of year, more than any other time, shouldn't we be thinking about our brothers and sisters who live in our neighborhood, city, county, province or Country? Shouldn't we want all of us to come together, rather than make this about who's more important and who should shut up? For as long as I can remember people wished each other "Happy Holidays"....in fact there is a song that goes something like this "Happy Holidays, Happy Holidays, while the merry bells keep ringing, Happy Holidays to you". That song was sung by Bing Crosby in the movie Holiday Inn and is from the 40's. All of a sudden people are freaking out that they are being wished "Happy Holidays" get over it people.....if you are Christian, than act like it! In my opinion, if you want to keep Christ in Christmas, so being so angry, start being more kind, and then you will keep Christ in Christmas, as isn't that what he brought to us all those years ago?
I think we are all getting far too serious. Enjoy your time with your family, if you don't want it to do with anything other than Christ than don't, if you want to wish people Merry Christmas than do and stop worrying about all the other crap....it just fills up what should be a much more peaceful time of year. I look forward to celebrating both Hanukkah and Christmas in our house, as we always do...with presents, and food, and Christmas trees, and Menorahs and all the lights outside and in. We love it all!!
Monday, November 25, 2013
Saturday, November 9, 2013
I know, it's so shocking!
This may come as a surprise, but I have to admit it anyways. I am not perfect. I know, I'm as shocked as you are to read this.....it's no laughing matter. I know, most of us think we are perfect, we think we do no wrong, we think that our shit doesn't stink, but I am just now realizing I have a long way to go to reach perfection.
There are things I do that after I do then I wonder "why on earth did I do that" or "say that" or "act that way" or "react that way". Yes, believe it or not but I have been known to talk about people behind their backs. No, not to hurt necessarily, however I am sure if those people where to hear what I was saying they would be hurt. I have always said that it's more about venting, rather than having ill intent. I can't help it, I have tried to fix this, I have tried to stop, but the honest truth is some people just drive me nuts and if I don't share it with trusted people in my life I might explode. Literally. Yes, I am not perfect, not at all.
I have been known to put myself first, yes ahead of even my child at times. I'm not talking about the ways we have to put ourselves ahead of or children, like when you need to put the oxygen mask on first before you can help you child, I mean in ways that have nothing to do with him. There are times I ask him to go play so that I can enjoy my second cup of coffee on a Saturday morning. There have been times where I have asked him to go watch tv just so that I can go to my room and read my book. Yes, selfish I know, I am not perfect.
There have been times where I have sped up in a store in order to not be behind the elderly woman in line. Yes, I have been known to speed pass, wind whipping that woman's hair just so that I can be first. I am not perfect, I need to work on this....but the fact is this, there are just times I am not in the mood to stand behind someone slow, someone who takes the time to do a bit of socializing while they do their transactions. There are times I just want to be first. Yes, I admit it, I want to be first! Ugh. I know, I need to work on this.
I have been know to stick a particular finger out the window at other drivers. Yes, I am not perfect. There have been times where I am just not in the mood to almost get hit while driving down the road, or being cut off, or have someone steal the parking spot I have been patiently waiting for. I know, I should turn the other cheek, but I can't for some reason at times. I know I need to work on these things. I know I do.
Not being perfect has hit me hard. I don't know if I can handle the real truth, but I will have to try. I mean, really.... I should feel too bad, I am human after all. I can tell myself that there are lots of people worse than me, lots of people who don't ever do good, but the true fact of the matter is we are all human. We all make mistakes, we all do things we shake our heads at after we have done them. Does it excuse our behavior, no, but no one is perfect and that's the honest truth. The thing I have to try to remember is this, every single day I get a brand new chance to start from scratch. Yes, there will always be those people who will always focus on the wrongs you have done, but those people don't mean anything. I can do it differently, every single day working on improvement. Some day's I might make inroads, and some day's I may go back to the same routine. The focus for me is just to keep trying, I mean isn't that all we can do, try??
There are things I do that after I do then I wonder "why on earth did I do that" or "say that" or "act that way" or "react that way". Yes, believe it or not but I have been known to talk about people behind their backs. No, not to hurt necessarily, however I am sure if those people where to hear what I was saying they would be hurt. I have always said that it's more about venting, rather than having ill intent. I can't help it, I have tried to fix this, I have tried to stop, but the honest truth is some people just drive me nuts and if I don't share it with trusted people in my life I might explode. Literally. Yes, I am not perfect, not at all.
I have been known to put myself first, yes ahead of even my child at times. I'm not talking about the ways we have to put ourselves ahead of or children, like when you need to put the oxygen mask on first before you can help you child, I mean in ways that have nothing to do with him. There are times I ask him to go play so that I can enjoy my second cup of coffee on a Saturday morning. There have been times where I have asked him to go watch tv just so that I can go to my room and read my book. Yes, selfish I know, I am not perfect.
There have been times where I have sped up in a store in order to not be behind the elderly woman in line. Yes, I have been known to speed pass, wind whipping that woman's hair just so that I can be first. I am not perfect, I need to work on this....but the fact is this, there are just times I am not in the mood to stand behind someone slow, someone who takes the time to do a bit of socializing while they do their transactions. There are times I just want to be first. Yes, I admit it, I want to be first! Ugh. I know, I need to work on this.
I have been know to stick a particular finger out the window at other drivers. Yes, I am not perfect. There have been times where I am just not in the mood to almost get hit while driving down the road, or being cut off, or have someone steal the parking spot I have been patiently waiting for. I know, I should turn the other cheek, but I can't for some reason at times. I know I need to work on these things. I know I do.
Not being perfect has hit me hard. I don't know if I can handle the real truth, but I will have to try. I mean, really.... I should feel too bad, I am human after all. I can tell myself that there are lots of people worse than me, lots of people who don't ever do good, but the true fact of the matter is we are all human. We all make mistakes, we all do things we shake our heads at after we have done them. Does it excuse our behavior, no, but no one is perfect and that's the honest truth. The thing I have to try to remember is this, every single day I get a brand new chance to start from scratch. Yes, there will always be those people who will always focus on the wrongs you have done, but those people don't mean anything. I can do it differently, every single day working on improvement. Some day's I might make inroads, and some day's I may go back to the same routine. The focus for me is just to keep trying, I mean isn't that all we can do, try??
Monday, October 14, 2013
Our fun filled evening in a small town ER.....I say that out the side of my mouth!
This past Saturday I loaded the family up and we headed to a family get together in my home town. We were just going for the night, it's a bit of a drive for just one night but we decided to go and enjoy some family time.
On the way there we decided to make a few stops to get a couple of things. We haven't been to the city closes to my home town in a long time and decided to hit a few stops there that we never get to go to. At our first stop my partner D went to just run in and out so my son and I stayed in the car to wait. As she went to jump out of the car she put her foot down and twisted her ankle on an uneven sidewalk. I didn't realize she had done this until she was on her way back to the car.
At first we both thought she had just hurt it a bit, but not seriously so we continued on with our day, stopping at a couple of other places, her limping away as we went. It wasn't until we arrived at my families place that we realized that it was more than just a little twisted ankle...it was twice it's normal size and there was obvious bruising starting to develop. It was 4:20 in the afternoon. My mom suggested we go to the ER in town, before it got to late, and have it looked at...so off we went.
Our small town ER experience left something to be desired....and here is the story.
When we pulled up at the entrance I dropped D off at the door so she wouldn't have to walk so far (I know, so uncharacteristically kind of me, but I guess I was having a nice day)...and then I went to park the car. The front parking was full so I had to park at the back parking lot, quite a distance from the front door so the decision to drop her off was a good one. By the time I arrived inside D had already had a bit of an ordeal. When she went inside she walked to the unmanned front desk. On the window it said "if by chance this desk is not manned please go to the ER desk to be helped". She did that, limping all the way. I would say that the ER desk is about 250 feet from the front entrance...not far for most, but a long way when you have an injury of this nature. When she got to the ER desk a woman dressed in pink asked her why she was there and then told her to go back to the front desk and she would be there in a minute. When I walked in D was sitting on a chair outside the front desk waiting for the lady in pink to return. I stood there for a few minutes waiting with D and getting the full story up to then, and after waiting I walked over to the ER entrance and had a seat on the chairs outside...looking into the ER. There were three people at the ER desk, the lady in pink whom had talked to D about returning in a minute, and older woman also dressed in scrubs (who we would later find out was the triage nurse) and a blond woman (who we would later find out was the Dr on call that afternoon). They were all standing or sitting around the ER desk, eating and laughing. When I sat down in the chairs the girl dressed in pink looked at me, and after realizing that they were doing nothing but making someone with an injury wait unnecessarily, I gave her a look....you know the kind, the ones that only mothers can make. In seconds she was walking out of the ER to wait on D. I was so happy that she could put the food and conversation aside long enough to help the patient....imagine that! I have to add here that in that front entrance they have this picture (I think there are 5 woman in the picture) and over the picture it says something to the effect of "Our focus is on the patient, and the great care for those patients" so far that wasn't something that was happening.....I don't think it's "great care" when you ask someone injured to walk at least 500 feet more than necessary, simply because you would rather socialize than do you damn job!!
Needless to say the woman in pink was not very amused that she had to actually do her job, being very sharp and in some ways uncaring while she took all of D's information....D standing at the window the whole time....seems to me one would get her a chair to do this, but hey, care is their most important focus right! After finishing with the woman in pink D was instructed to walk over to the ER entrance and wait there until they were ready for her. The wait at those chairs was not long, thankfully.
From the chairs she was taken by the triage nurse to do some injury history, as well as cover some medical history. She was a bit nicer than the pink girl was, but still not overly thrilled to be doing her job. I just have to add here that why does one pick health care careers when they are not interested in dealing with patients??? Or care for that matter??? it seems to me that overwhelmingly they are not happy, not caring and not interested, so why did they do it in the first place....health care isn't usually something you choose unless you are made up of the right stuff to work in that field? You know, working in a factory or something alike is a field that sort of just comes your way, you just deal with it, but choosing a career, now that's a decision, you should be thrilled to be working in you chosen field shouldn't you?? It doesn't seem that way when it comes to the medical field. I recognize that health care professionals in Canada can, and often are overworked, understaffed, etc. etc. But that is NOT the case here in small town Ontario. They are fairly staffed, not overworked, and work in a much better environment than that of the big city....stop hating on everyone!!!!! End of rant! for now!
From triage she was told to walk to room 4 and get on the bed. It was now 5 pm.
Room 4 consisted of 3 or 4 beds, each separated by those wonderful draw curtains. No real privacy, but that's okay, can't expect much privacy in the ER now can you. In the bed furthest from us was a mother, and her young son. He was likely 3, and was a very busy little man. They were talking, she mostly telling him detailed explanations for various things....like "what is Angelina Ballerina??" "What does she like to do", "what is a ballerina"....and these question went on and on, and we heard each and everyone of them. At about 5:30 the doctor finally came in to see them, and it was then that we found out that this boy was here because his mother suspected that he had impetigo, as he was diagnosed with it two weeks prior, and all the spots had come back.....and she had washed everything and had kept him home from daycare and gymnastics for over a week, how could this be??? The doctor looked at him, took a swab and then 15 minutes later was sending them out the door with a new antibiotic script. I was grateful they were out the door...not because he had a very contagious skin condition, but because the level at which they were talking was getting on my nerves...not sure why anyone wants everyone around them to hear ever single word they say, but yet there are those ones. Bye little boy, I hope you pussy face clears up fast so your annoying mother doesn't drive you to drink hard liquor at the age of 3! The doctor then headed back to the desk, eating, talking and laughing....for more than 10 minutes....I timed her!
I have to just say here that there were two other people ahead of us in this ER. One being a teenage girl, the other being woman who seemed quite ill as they had her door closed.
After 10 minutes the Dr made her way down to the teenagers room. I think she must have had something stuck in her leg or something, as there was a bunch of loud painful sounds coming from the room....which was at the end of the ER...quite a distance from where we are. Along with the painful moans, there was also the voice of the Dr saying "just look away, this isn't going to hurt so just stop moaning"....apparently they teenager was moaning over the injection of freezing that the Dr was administrating....not the actual removal of whatever it was in her leg. After the Dr was done there she returned to the desk, eating some more of whatever it was that was there, and talking it up with the triage nurse and the girl in pink. Boy, they sure seem over worked to me!
At 6 pm a nurse came into our room and asked D if she would like some Tylenol or Ibuprofen for the pain. It took them more than an hour to suggest to this person, with an ankle twice the size of normal, that she just might be in enough pain to warrant some Tylenol??? An hour?? I get it if they were run off their feet, as they are in a city ER, but really, these people are too busy eating and talking to actually follow that saying in their front lobby....that thing about patient care first. D thanked her for the suggestion and welcomed the chance to maybe take some of the edge off. The nurse returned with 4 pills and a small glass of water....and then was out the door.
At this point I am looking at the front desk and the blond Dr eating again and talking to a male dressed in scrubs. I recognized the man in scrubs to be a young man I remembered from my childhood. He was much younger than me, I don't think we were ever in school together, but I knew who he was. He was the son of the veterinarian in town, and I remembered hearing that he grew up and became a human doctor, not following in his daddies footsteps of being a 4 legged doctor. I had heard good things about this guy, so I was expecting to not see as much tom foolery and more medicine being practiced. I would be disappointed.
After about 20 minutes the new, male doctor, walked into our room. He looked at D's chart and then asked a few questions about the injury, how it happened, how long ago that sort of thing. He then began an exam on the ankle and determined from that exam that she would likely need an x-ray to rule out a break. Wow, we are there almost 2 hours and just now they are thinking maybe an x-ray might be needed....I don't know, I am not a nurse or a doctor, but one would think that any injury that makes ones joint be more than twice it's regular size is going to warrant an x-ray, well at least until doctors come equipped with x-ray vision....which I'm sure is just around the corner. The doctor than explained they would have to call the technician in, and it would be about 20-30 minutes, but that he usually doesn't feel too bad about the wait with people who are used to larger centers where they wait for hours to be seen. Off he went and a few minutes later the triage nurse came in carrying another set of pain pills (just like the ones the other nurse came in with) she went to tear them open when D told her another nurse had just came in before the doctor and she had already taken them.....so they were trying to now kill her....great small town care there...maybe if they weren't so interested in chatting, and more interested in referring to the chart (or better yet actually updating the chart) they wouldn't be trying offer lethal levels of pain relief....ugg! It's a good thing I was there, and D was still sharp and not at all groggy, she would have just mindlessly taken the meds and then I think her ER stay just might have turned into a hospital stay!
At this point another mother, with her teenage son, came into the ER. Again, the girl in pink was not manning her entrance desk, but rather was standing at the ER desk chatting it up. The mother explained that her son is susceptible to bronchitis and has in the last few days formed a cough, so she wanted to be more pro-active and maybe get it under control before it turned into the more advanced condition of bronchitis. The triage nurse sent her and her son to the bed that was just a half hour or so ago filled by the three year old with impetigo.....yes, and you guessed it...no one had changed the sheets or cleaned after that three year old was there...so now they were putting an out of province teenager, with a compromising medical condition sit in a bed that was just moments ago filled with a child with a very contagious skin disorder....hmmm??? does this sound like they are putting patient care first?? Not to me....it seems to me that once again putting chatting and eating first on the list....and then "oh, am I here to be a nurse, I thought I was here to socialize". They put a mask on the teenager and then let him sit on the bed in those impetigo crusted sheets...that poor guy, I sure hope his junk isn't covered is pussy red blotches today....I should have said something but honestly, I would rather write a witty blog about the whole thing than get involved in this.....next time I will say something...as I will be less interested in the witty blog...you can only write so many witty blogs about the failing score of health care these days. The triage nurse asked the mother of the teenager to come to the desk, where they then talked for more than 20 minutes about BC....as that was where the mother was from, and the triage nurse's son and newest grandchild was from.....they had something in common, and they bonded....nothing wrong with that, as there were no new cases of anything coming in, and it made the mother feel a connection. I honestly didn't see a problem with it, but really, most people don't have 20 minutes at their over paid job to just sit and shoot the shit...most people have to actually work to make their living, to keep their job, to finished all the work they need to do. I wonder if a factory worker were to stop and talk to the newest stranger for 20 minutes and just not do what he was supposed to do on the line for that period how that would effect the rest of the line??? Hmm...but then again, most people don't choose factory work, it is sort of the thing you just resort to, health care is more of a chosen field.
The x-ray technician arrived, wheeled D off to shoot her ankle. Finally things were moving in the right direction. A few minutes later she was being wheeled back into the room, and there she sat for 35 more minutes....until the doctor remembered that he needed to actually look at the x-rays that he had ordered. I know they were ready long before that as the technician had joined the group at the desk at least 15 minutes before that to join the conversations.....meanwhile, the doctor had gone in to see the mother and her teenage son. He listened to his lungs, told her everything seemed really clear. He didn't suggest anything at this point, she suggested that he write a script for an inhaler for, just in case, as they were from out of province and this would save them another visit to the ER. The doctor agreed to write the script, and then sent them on their way. I think they were there for no more than 45 minutes maybe.....but their short stay was filled with infectious sheets so they can't feel too lucky now can they!
When the doctor returned to D's room he said that he hadn't detected any break on the x-ray, that he felt it was soft tissue, but after I said something like "you don't detect any obvious break" he then replied with, "well I have looked at 1000's of x-rays, but yes, I am not a radiologist and until a radiologist reviews the shots we can't be absolutely sure there isn't a break somewhere, but we will call you if he does see anything on Tuesday". He told her to put some frozen pea's on it and take Tylenol....but no other sort of pain med was going to be prescribed....and we were finally on our way.
We were there 3.25 hours, and really weren't much better off after than we were before. So, now I would like to add my suggestions to improve here.
1st, I'm going to state the obvious. If there is someone being paid to sit in the front desk, they better be there unless they are on a break or there is an emergency somewhere in the hospital. I think as a tax payer I would appreciate my tax dollars going to people who are interested in doing their job, not socializing.
2nd, why is it that triage nurses in this country are not nurse practitioners?? We under use these professionals in this country, when using them would cut time and cost. If that triage nurse had been a nurse practitioner she could have evaluated the ankle, ordered the x-ray and had D all ready when the Doctor was ready to come and look at her....he would have had all the information, and the time in the ER would have been a fraction of what it was. This can be said for so much, that little boy with the impetigo could have been seen and sent on his way in minutes, that boy with the possible bronchitis could have been seen and sent on his way right after triage.....the time and money that could have been saved is just insurmountable, yes a nurse practitioner would be more expensive than a regular nurse, but the Dr wouldn't have had to come in for 4 out of 5 of those cases in the ER....and yes, that would save a lot of money.
3rd. Cleanliness needs to be a focus in a medial facility....this is a no brainer. Why anyone would think its okay to just herd patients into rooms without cleaning in between is just beyond my understanding. This is not good for the patient, and it's not good for the cost of health care. Simple cleaning would lead to less cross contamination which leads to less illnesses which leads to less ER and doctor office visits. Stop throwing our money away!! I am sick of the high costs of medical care in this country, and these are just a few of the reasons why they are so high.
It's time we spend less on Doctors and more on nurse practitioners. It's time we have less ER's and more urgent care facilities. Lower the cost, increase the service, make citizens happier folks. And for heavens sake, stop eating and starting working!!!
In August I went to the ER here in Windsor. I waited 5 hours to be seen, I was offered Tylenol 3 when I finally made it to a bed, and then I was sent home with a script for Tylenol 3's. An e-ray was taken quickly and the results were read within minutes. No, waiting 5 hours is not good, but you have to keep in mind that there were between 35-45 people ahead of me. When we arrived at the small town ER there were 3 people ahead of us....we stayed 3.25 hours and were not offered any continuous pain relief solutions. What that means is in the city 7 people per hours are being seen....in small town ER 1.5 patients were being seen per hour. Who is doing it more efficiently??? You tell me!! So no Doctor "young boy I remember from childhood", small town ER's are not better in any way than city ER's, you just don't have the volume so you get to play more!!
I just want to finish this by saying that I am in no way bashing the Doctors here. I think small town Doctors work hard, are better in many way than city Doctors. In my sons earlier years I often took him to seem my family doctor in my home town, as I trusted him more than the doctor we had in the city. He knew his patients better, he took his job seriously, and he wasn't afraid to get his hands dirty....if he could fix it he did, he didn't just send off the problem to a specialist like we get with our city doctor. There is room for improvement in both places, this experience was just shocking to me. This particular ER has been fighting to stay open...the citizens of this small town and fought to keep it open, along with the small hospital....but when you go there and this is what you experience you don't have to ask why.....you have to wonder why not....these people don't want it opened, obviously, what they want is to no longer have their cushy job, but to go and work in ER's that are non stop....they want to actually work for that pay, I guess!
On the way there we decided to make a few stops to get a couple of things. We haven't been to the city closes to my home town in a long time and decided to hit a few stops there that we never get to go to. At our first stop my partner D went to just run in and out so my son and I stayed in the car to wait. As she went to jump out of the car she put her foot down and twisted her ankle on an uneven sidewalk. I didn't realize she had done this until she was on her way back to the car.
At first we both thought she had just hurt it a bit, but not seriously so we continued on with our day, stopping at a couple of other places, her limping away as we went. It wasn't until we arrived at my families place that we realized that it was more than just a little twisted ankle...it was twice it's normal size and there was obvious bruising starting to develop. It was 4:20 in the afternoon. My mom suggested we go to the ER in town, before it got to late, and have it looked at...so off we went.
Our small town ER experience left something to be desired....and here is the story.
When we pulled up at the entrance I dropped D off at the door so she wouldn't have to walk so far (I know, so uncharacteristically kind of me, but I guess I was having a nice day)...and then I went to park the car. The front parking was full so I had to park at the back parking lot, quite a distance from the front door so the decision to drop her off was a good one. By the time I arrived inside D had already had a bit of an ordeal. When she went inside she walked to the unmanned front desk. On the window it said "if by chance this desk is not manned please go to the ER desk to be helped". She did that, limping all the way. I would say that the ER desk is about 250 feet from the front entrance...not far for most, but a long way when you have an injury of this nature. When she got to the ER desk a woman dressed in pink asked her why she was there and then told her to go back to the front desk and she would be there in a minute. When I walked in D was sitting on a chair outside the front desk waiting for the lady in pink to return. I stood there for a few minutes waiting with D and getting the full story up to then, and after waiting I walked over to the ER entrance and had a seat on the chairs outside...looking into the ER. There were three people at the ER desk, the lady in pink whom had talked to D about returning in a minute, and older woman also dressed in scrubs (who we would later find out was the triage nurse) and a blond woman (who we would later find out was the Dr on call that afternoon). They were all standing or sitting around the ER desk, eating and laughing. When I sat down in the chairs the girl dressed in pink looked at me, and after realizing that they were doing nothing but making someone with an injury wait unnecessarily, I gave her a look....you know the kind, the ones that only mothers can make. In seconds she was walking out of the ER to wait on D. I was so happy that she could put the food and conversation aside long enough to help the patient....imagine that! I have to add here that in that front entrance they have this picture (I think there are 5 woman in the picture) and over the picture it says something to the effect of "Our focus is on the patient, and the great care for those patients" so far that wasn't something that was happening.....I don't think it's "great care" when you ask someone injured to walk at least 500 feet more than necessary, simply because you would rather socialize than do you damn job!!
Needless to say the woman in pink was not very amused that she had to actually do her job, being very sharp and in some ways uncaring while she took all of D's information....D standing at the window the whole time....seems to me one would get her a chair to do this, but hey, care is their most important focus right! After finishing with the woman in pink D was instructed to walk over to the ER entrance and wait there until they were ready for her. The wait at those chairs was not long, thankfully.
From the chairs she was taken by the triage nurse to do some injury history, as well as cover some medical history. She was a bit nicer than the pink girl was, but still not overly thrilled to be doing her job. I just have to add here that why does one pick health care careers when they are not interested in dealing with patients??? Or care for that matter??? it seems to me that overwhelmingly they are not happy, not caring and not interested, so why did they do it in the first place....health care isn't usually something you choose unless you are made up of the right stuff to work in that field? You know, working in a factory or something alike is a field that sort of just comes your way, you just deal with it, but choosing a career, now that's a decision, you should be thrilled to be working in you chosen field shouldn't you?? It doesn't seem that way when it comes to the medical field. I recognize that health care professionals in Canada can, and often are overworked, understaffed, etc. etc. But that is NOT the case here in small town Ontario. They are fairly staffed, not overworked, and work in a much better environment than that of the big city....stop hating on everyone!!!!! End of rant! for now!
From triage she was told to walk to room 4 and get on the bed. It was now 5 pm.
Room 4 consisted of 3 or 4 beds, each separated by those wonderful draw curtains. No real privacy, but that's okay, can't expect much privacy in the ER now can you. In the bed furthest from us was a mother, and her young son. He was likely 3, and was a very busy little man. They were talking, she mostly telling him detailed explanations for various things....like "what is Angelina Ballerina??" "What does she like to do", "what is a ballerina"....and these question went on and on, and we heard each and everyone of them. At about 5:30 the doctor finally came in to see them, and it was then that we found out that this boy was here because his mother suspected that he had impetigo, as he was diagnosed with it two weeks prior, and all the spots had come back.....and she had washed everything and had kept him home from daycare and gymnastics for over a week, how could this be??? The doctor looked at him, took a swab and then 15 minutes later was sending them out the door with a new antibiotic script. I was grateful they were out the door...not because he had a very contagious skin condition, but because the level at which they were talking was getting on my nerves...not sure why anyone wants everyone around them to hear ever single word they say, but yet there are those ones. Bye little boy, I hope you pussy face clears up fast so your annoying mother doesn't drive you to drink hard liquor at the age of 3! The doctor then headed back to the desk, eating, talking and laughing....for more than 10 minutes....I timed her!
I have to just say here that there were two other people ahead of us in this ER. One being a teenage girl, the other being woman who seemed quite ill as they had her door closed.
After 10 minutes the Dr made her way down to the teenagers room. I think she must have had something stuck in her leg or something, as there was a bunch of loud painful sounds coming from the room....which was at the end of the ER...quite a distance from where we are. Along with the painful moans, there was also the voice of the Dr saying "just look away, this isn't going to hurt so just stop moaning"....apparently they teenager was moaning over the injection of freezing that the Dr was administrating....not the actual removal of whatever it was in her leg. After the Dr was done there she returned to the desk, eating some more of whatever it was that was there, and talking it up with the triage nurse and the girl in pink. Boy, they sure seem over worked to me!
At 6 pm a nurse came into our room and asked D if she would like some Tylenol or Ibuprofen for the pain. It took them more than an hour to suggest to this person, with an ankle twice the size of normal, that she just might be in enough pain to warrant some Tylenol??? An hour?? I get it if they were run off their feet, as they are in a city ER, but really, these people are too busy eating and talking to actually follow that saying in their front lobby....that thing about patient care first. D thanked her for the suggestion and welcomed the chance to maybe take some of the edge off. The nurse returned with 4 pills and a small glass of water....and then was out the door.
At this point I am looking at the front desk and the blond Dr eating again and talking to a male dressed in scrubs. I recognized the man in scrubs to be a young man I remembered from my childhood. He was much younger than me, I don't think we were ever in school together, but I knew who he was. He was the son of the veterinarian in town, and I remembered hearing that he grew up and became a human doctor, not following in his daddies footsteps of being a 4 legged doctor. I had heard good things about this guy, so I was expecting to not see as much tom foolery and more medicine being practiced. I would be disappointed.
After about 20 minutes the new, male doctor, walked into our room. He looked at D's chart and then asked a few questions about the injury, how it happened, how long ago that sort of thing. He then began an exam on the ankle and determined from that exam that she would likely need an x-ray to rule out a break. Wow, we are there almost 2 hours and just now they are thinking maybe an x-ray might be needed....I don't know, I am not a nurse or a doctor, but one would think that any injury that makes ones joint be more than twice it's regular size is going to warrant an x-ray, well at least until doctors come equipped with x-ray vision....which I'm sure is just around the corner. The doctor than explained they would have to call the technician in, and it would be about 20-30 minutes, but that he usually doesn't feel too bad about the wait with people who are used to larger centers where they wait for hours to be seen. Off he went and a few minutes later the triage nurse came in carrying another set of pain pills (just like the ones the other nurse came in with) she went to tear them open when D told her another nurse had just came in before the doctor and she had already taken them.....so they were trying to now kill her....great small town care there...maybe if they weren't so interested in chatting, and more interested in referring to the chart (or better yet actually updating the chart) they wouldn't be trying offer lethal levels of pain relief....ugg! It's a good thing I was there, and D was still sharp and not at all groggy, she would have just mindlessly taken the meds and then I think her ER stay just might have turned into a hospital stay!
At this point another mother, with her teenage son, came into the ER. Again, the girl in pink was not manning her entrance desk, but rather was standing at the ER desk chatting it up. The mother explained that her son is susceptible to bronchitis and has in the last few days formed a cough, so she wanted to be more pro-active and maybe get it under control before it turned into the more advanced condition of bronchitis. The triage nurse sent her and her son to the bed that was just a half hour or so ago filled by the three year old with impetigo.....yes, and you guessed it...no one had changed the sheets or cleaned after that three year old was there...so now they were putting an out of province teenager, with a compromising medical condition sit in a bed that was just moments ago filled with a child with a very contagious skin disorder....hmmm??? does this sound like they are putting patient care first?? Not to me....it seems to me that once again putting chatting and eating first on the list....and then "oh, am I here to be a nurse, I thought I was here to socialize". They put a mask on the teenager and then let him sit on the bed in those impetigo crusted sheets...that poor guy, I sure hope his junk isn't covered is pussy red blotches today....I should have said something but honestly, I would rather write a witty blog about the whole thing than get involved in this.....next time I will say something...as I will be less interested in the witty blog...you can only write so many witty blogs about the failing score of health care these days. The triage nurse asked the mother of the teenager to come to the desk, where they then talked for more than 20 minutes about BC....as that was where the mother was from, and the triage nurse's son and newest grandchild was from.....they had something in common, and they bonded....nothing wrong with that, as there were no new cases of anything coming in, and it made the mother feel a connection. I honestly didn't see a problem with it, but really, most people don't have 20 minutes at their over paid job to just sit and shoot the shit...most people have to actually work to make their living, to keep their job, to finished all the work they need to do. I wonder if a factory worker were to stop and talk to the newest stranger for 20 minutes and just not do what he was supposed to do on the line for that period how that would effect the rest of the line??? Hmm...but then again, most people don't choose factory work, it is sort of the thing you just resort to, health care is more of a chosen field.
The x-ray technician arrived, wheeled D off to shoot her ankle. Finally things were moving in the right direction. A few minutes later she was being wheeled back into the room, and there she sat for 35 more minutes....until the doctor remembered that he needed to actually look at the x-rays that he had ordered. I know they were ready long before that as the technician had joined the group at the desk at least 15 minutes before that to join the conversations.....meanwhile, the doctor had gone in to see the mother and her teenage son. He listened to his lungs, told her everything seemed really clear. He didn't suggest anything at this point, she suggested that he write a script for an inhaler for, just in case, as they were from out of province and this would save them another visit to the ER. The doctor agreed to write the script, and then sent them on their way. I think they were there for no more than 45 minutes maybe.....but their short stay was filled with infectious sheets so they can't feel too lucky now can they!
When the doctor returned to D's room he said that he hadn't detected any break on the x-ray, that he felt it was soft tissue, but after I said something like "you don't detect any obvious break" he then replied with, "well I have looked at 1000's of x-rays, but yes, I am not a radiologist and until a radiologist reviews the shots we can't be absolutely sure there isn't a break somewhere, but we will call you if he does see anything on Tuesday". He told her to put some frozen pea's on it and take Tylenol....but no other sort of pain med was going to be prescribed....and we were finally on our way.
We were there 3.25 hours, and really weren't much better off after than we were before. So, now I would like to add my suggestions to improve here.
1st, I'm going to state the obvious. If there is someone being paid to sit in the front desk, they better be there unless they are on a break or there is an emergency somewhere in the hospital. I think as a tax payer I would appreciate my tax dollars going to people who are interested in doing their job, not socializing.
2nd, why is it that triage nurses in this country are not nurse practitioners?? We under use these professionals in this country, when using them would cut time and cost. If that triage nurse had been a nurse practitioner she could have evaluated the ankle, ordered the x-ray and had D all ready when the Doctor was ready to come and look at her....he would have had all the information, and the time in the ER would have been a fraction of what it was. This can be said for so much, that little boy with the impetigo could have been seen and sent on his way in minutes, that boy with the possible bronchitis could have been seen and sent on his way right after triage.....the time and money that could have been saved is just insurmountable, yes a nurse practitioner would be more expensive than a regular nurse, but the Dr wouldn't have had to come in for 4 out of 5 of those cases in the ER....and yes, that would save a lot of money.
3rd. Cleanliness needs to be a focus in a medial facility....this is a no brainer. Why anyone would think its okay to just herd patients into rooms without cleaning in between is just beyond my understanding. This is not good for the patient, and it's not good for the cost of health care. Simple cleaning would lead to less cross contamination which leads to less illnesses which leads to less ER and doctor office visits. Stop throwing our money away!! I am sick of the high costs of medical care in this country, and these are just a few of the reasons why they are so high.
It's time we spend less on Doctors and more on nurse practitioners. It's time we have less ER's and more urgent care facilities. Lower the cost, increase the service, make citizens happier folks. And for heavens sake, stop eating and starting working!!!
In August I went to the ER here in Windsor. I waited 5 hours to be seen, I was offered Tylenol 3 when I finally made it to a bed, and then I was sent home with a script for Tylenol 3's. An e-ray was taken quickly and the results were read within minutes. No, waiting 5 hours is not good, but you have to keep in mind that there were between 35-45 people ahead of me. When we arrived at the small town ER there were 3 people ahead of us....we stayed 3.25 hours and were not offered any continuous pain relief solutions. What that means is in the city 7 people per hours are being seen....in small town ER 1.5 patients were being seen per hour. Who is doing it more efficiently??? You tell me!! So no Doctor "young boy I remember from childhood", small town ER's are not better in any way than city ER's, you just don't have the volume so you get to play more!!
I just want to finish this by saying that I am in no way bashing the Doctors here. I think small town Doctors work hard, are better in many way than city Doctors. In my sons earlier years I often took him to seem my family doctor in my home town, as I trusted him more than the doctor we had in the city. He knew his patients better, he took his job seriously, and he wasn't afraid to get his hands dirty....if he could fix it he did, he didn't just send off the problem to a specialist like we get with our city doctor. There is room for improvement in both places, this experience was just shocking to me. This particular ER has been fighting to stay open...the citizens of this small town and fought to keep it open, along with the small hospital....but when you go there and this is what you experience you don't have to ask why.....you have to wonder why not....these people don't want it opened, obviously, what they want is to no longer have their cushy job, but to go and work in ER's that are non stop....they want to actually work for that pay, I guess!
Wednesday, September 25, 2013
Why I had weight loss surgery!
When I was a kid I was never the skinny one. No one ever told me I was skinny. I think, for the most part, I was average. Having a larger frame, there was no way I was ever going to be considered skinny, and I was good with that. My mother was disappointed by my size, I think if she had her way I would have been skin and bones with perfectly curly hair, but she got neither.
I developed young, well it seemed like I was young. This didn't help much with the size issue. No, I was not fat, but there was more than my share on my chest so I looked more on the heavy side than not. This wasn't helped by my refusal to wear a bra when I should have been. I wasn't that girl who was real feminine, and sure didn't want to be the first in my class to have to wear a bra. I had enough difficulties in grade school, I didn't need one more, so no bra for me.
For those of you who read my blog regularly, I have not kept it a secret that I am a survivor of childhood sexual abuse. I had various abusers, at various times in my childhood. The thing about being abused is, as I child, you think the reason this is happening to you is because of something you did, or it had something to do with how you looked. I remember grown ups telling me how pretty I was, and I remember how uncomfortable that made me. Hearing that was never a good thing as far as I was concerned. I was always feeling like the abuse had to do with the way I looked, and subconsciously, I guess, I decided to change things to keep people away from me. This began a life long job of gaining weight and making sure people kept their distance, and it worked.
When I graduated from grade 8 I weighed 150 lbs. I reached my forever height in the 4th grade, 5"2 1/2. This was a lot of weight to carry on that frame, but I wouldn't have said I was crazy overweight. Towards the end of the 9th grade my gym teacher (a very creepy female teacher whom I was very intimidated by) ran into me in the hall and asked me to come to her office for a little chat. Her office was at a very isolated area, which made me very uncomfortable. She had me come in, closed the door, and had me sit down. She stared off with some small talk, asking me how things were going in grade nine, that sort of thing. Then she told me how pretty I was, and wanted me to think about losing some weight so that I would be more attractive. This coming from a very overweight, not attractive woman who was not ageing well for a woman her age. I remember squirming in my chair, looking at the clock on her desk hoping this all ended fast and I could go home. I never took gym again, and led to more weight gain and image issues. By the time I entered the 12th grade I had tipped the scale at 205. At this point my mother insisted that I start seeing our family doctor to get on a weight loss program. I did start seeing him, and by the time I had graduated high school I had lost 37 lbs.
Off to college I went. I was scared, and intimidate by the mere size of the city I went to. I was from a small town, that consisted of about 5000 people, all of the same colour, all of which I either knew or knew of. Going off to Toronto was as scary as it could get for me. I was there about 3 months when at the bus stop one morning a guy noticed me and decided he was going to chat with me all the way to school. He didn't go to my school, but was on the bus the whole trip anyway. Over the course of the next few weeks he was at the bus stop more than he wasn't, each time staying on for as long as I was, always trying to communicate with me. On valentines day he was sitting at the bus stop holding a rose, and a card. This was all I could take, and from that time on I either took the college bus, which picked us up at the residence but much earlier than I would have like to head out, or I missed that class all together in order to avoid seeing him. By the time I had finished college I had put all of those 37lbs back on, and then some.
As the years went on I stayed at about the same size. Maybe there was a variance of a few pounds, but for the most part I stayed pretty constant.
When I conceived my son I was very healthy. I didn't have any real issues, other than I was very overweight. I was lucky, I had a uneventful pregnancy, I actually even lost 13 lbs during that 9 months. I never felt bad, I actually felt great.
After my son was born I just seemed to gain weight faster than one could imagine. The fact that I put myself in a bit of a cocoon for the first year didn't help. Life was getting more complicated, and I was beginning to feel less and less healthy. Finally I decided to diet, and see if I could shake some of this additional weight. I was able to lose 60 lbs and felt pretty good. As with any of my attempts of losing weight it never stayed off....somehow it always found me again, and before I knew it I had gained back those 60 lbs and more.
It wasn't long before my Dr told me that I was diabetic. I was going to have to start taking meds every day for the rest of my life. I couldn't stand the idea of doing that, I hated taking meds of any sort and knew that I wouldn't be able to sustain that. I knew that things either had to change or I was going to die. Somewhere along the way I also found out that I had sleep apnea. Like taking meds daily wasn't enough, but now I had to wear a mask to bed every night so that I wouldn't stop breathing. My life was getting way to far out of control, so I decided to pursue weight loss surgery.
At the time you had to have medical issues along with being over 100 lbs over weight. I sent my application in, and 3 months later I started the program. It took me more than a year and a half to actually get to my surgery day, but nonetheless when that day came I was ready to bid farewell to all of my medical issues and with any luck be able to become more active with my son.
I was lucky, I was able to toss the meds away, along with the cpap machine and for the last year have been able to shed a great deal of weight and am able to be a larger participator in my sons life. It has been a life saver for me.
I never did this to become skinny, in fact the idea of being skinny scares the hell out of me. There are times I run into people who haven't seen me in a while and will say "hey there skinny" and this sends shivers down my spine. I have not shaken those feeling from childhood, but I am able to handle it differently. Now that I am all grown up I know that I can keep myself safe, I know that no one will be able to abuse me again, and I know that I am in a much better place. It doesn't take away the fear, but I am working on it.
The truth of the matter is this, I didn't have this surgery to become skinny or anything near it. I did this so that I could live a healthier life. I wanted to be there for my family, to be an active member of it, and to not have all these things that were taking days and years away from me. This is why I had weight loss surgery, and the only reason.
Now the government has changed the requirements for the surgery. Now you don't have to have a long list of medical problems, all you need to have is at least 100 lbs to lose, and even that isn't written in stone. I am not sure how I feel about that. I know that there are people who have this surgery just simply to take the fast track to getting skinny. What they look like is the most, if not the only reason, they have this. This sort of scares me, as I think there should be more that just body imagine involved when it comes to altering your body for life. To me I think it would be beneficial for some people to be given alternatives. I think if the government were willing to help people lose the weight without having to resort to surgery. Sometimes things just get out of control, and sometimes just having the resources to help you daily at losing that weight is all you really need. Sometimes I wonder who this surgery is going to benefit. I am afraid that when it comes to doing this simply because of the way you will look, well what happens when it becomes work and you no longer can sustain that weight loss. I know that this surgery had done exactly what I had hoped it would do. Most importantly I am healthier, and that makes me happier. No, I am not skinny, I am not any where near skinny, but as long as I never have to go back on medications I feel this has been a successful surgery for me.
I developed young, well it seemed like I was young. This didn't help much with the size issue. No, I was not fat, but there was more than my share on my chest so I looked more on the heavy side than not. This wasn't helped by my refusal to wear a bra when I should have been. I wasn't that girl who was real feminine, and sure didn't want to be the first in my class to have to wear a bra. I had enough difficulties in grade school, I didn't need one more, so no bra for me.
For those of you who read my blog regularly, I have not kept it a secret that I am a survivor of childhood sexual abuse. I had various abusers, at various times in my childhood. The thing about being abused is, as I child, you think the reason this is happening to you is because of something you did, or it had something to do with how you looked. I remember grown ups telling me how pretty I was, and I remember how uncomfortable that made me. Hearing that was never a good thing as far as I was concerned. I was always feeling like the abuse had to do with the way I looked, and subconsciously, I guess, I decided to change things to keep people away from me. This began a life long job of gaining weight and making sure people kept their distance, and it worked.
When I graduated from grade 8 I weighed 150 lbs. I reached my forever height in the 4th grade, 5"2 1/2. This was a lot of weight to carry on that frame, but I wouldn't have said I was crazy overweight. Towards the end of the 9th grade my gym teacher (a very creepy female teacher whom I was very intimidated by) ran into me in the hall and asked me to come to her office for a little chat. Her office was at a very isolated area, which made me very uncomfortable. She had me come in, closed the door, and had me sit down. She stared off with some small talk, asking me how things were going in grade nine, that sort of thing. Then she told me how pretty I was, and wanted me to think about losing some weight so that I would be more attractive. This coming from a very overweight, not attractive woman who was not ageing well for a woman her age. I remember squirming in my chair, looking at the clock on her desk hoping this all ended fast and I could go home. I never took gym again, and led to more weight gain and image issues. By the time I entered the 12th grade I had tipped the scale at 205. At this point my mother insisted that I start seeing our family doctor to get on a weight loss program. I did start seeing him, and by the time I had graduated high school I had lost 37 lbs.
Off to college I went. I was scared, and intimidate by the mere size of the city I went to. I was from a small town, that consisted of about 5000 people, all of the same colour, all of which I either knew or knew of. Going off to Toronto was as scary as it could get for me. I was there about 3 months when at the bus stop one morning a guy noticed me and decided he was going to chat with me all the way to school. He didn't go to my school, but was on the bus the whole trip anyway. Over the course of the next few weeks he was at the bus stop more than he wasn't, each time staying on for as long as I was, always trying to communicate with me. On valentines day he was sitting at the bus stop holding a rose, and a card. This was all I could take, and from that time on I either took the college bus, which picked us up at the residence but much earlier than I would have like to head out, or I missed that class all together in order to avoid seeing him. By the time I had finished college I had put all of those 37lbs back on, and then some.
As the years went on I stayed at about the same size. Maybe there was a variance of a few pounds, but for the most part I stayed pretty constant.
When I conceived my son I was very healthy. I didn't have any real issues, other than I was very overweight. I was lucky, I had a uneventful pregnancy, I actually even lost 13 lbs during that 9 months. I never felt bad, I actually felt great.
After my son was born I just seemed to gain weight faster than one could imagine. The fact that I put myself in a bit of a cocoon for the first year didn't help. Life was getting more complicated, and I was beginning to feel less and less healthy. Finally I decided to diet, and see if I could shake some of this additional weight. I was able to lose 60 lbs and felt pretty good. As with any of my attempts of losing weight it never stayed off....somehow it always found me again, and before I knew it I had gained back those 60 lbs and more.
It wasn't long before my Dr told me that I was diabetic. I was going to have to start taking meds every day for the rest of my life. I couldn't stand the idea of doing that, I hated taking meds of any sort and knew that I wouldn't be able to sustain that. I knew that things either had to change or I was going to die. Somewhere along the way I also found out that I had sleep apnea. Like taking meds daily wasn't enough, but now I had to wear a mask to bed every night so that I wouldn't stop breathing. My life was getting way to far out of control, so I decided to pursue weight loss surgery.
At the time you had to have medical issues along with being over 100 lbs over weight. I sent my application in, and 3 months later I started the program. It took me more than a year and a half to actually get to my surgery day, but nonetheless when that day came I was ready to bid farewell to all of my medical issues and with any luck be able to become more active with my son.
I was lucky, I was able to toss the meds away, along with the cpap machine and for the last year have been able to shed a great deal of weight and am able to be a larger participator in my sons life. It has been a life saver for me.
I never did this to become skinny, in fact the idea of being skinny scares the hell out of me. There are times I run into people who haven't seen me in a while and will say "hey there skinny" and this sends shivers down my spine. I have not shaken those feeling from childhood, but I am able to handle it differently. Now that I am all grown up I know that I can keep myself safe, I know that no one will be able to abuse me again, and I know that I am in a much better place. It doesn't take away the fear, but I am working on it.
The truth of the matter is this, I didn't have this surgery to become skinny or anything near it. I did this so that I could live a healthier life. I wanted to be there for my family, to be an active member of it, and to not have all these things that were taking days and years away from me. This is why I had weight loss surgery, and the only reason.
Now the government has changed the requirements for the surgery. Now you don't have to have a long list of medical problems, all you need to have is at least 100 lbs to lose, and even that isn't written in stone. I am not sure how I feel about that. I know that there are people who have this surgery just simply to take the fast track to getting skinny. What they look like is the most, if not the only reason, they have this. This sort of scares me, as I think there should be more that just body imagine involved when it comes to altering your body for life. To me I think it would be beneficial for some people to be given alternatives. I think if the government were willing to help people lose the weight without having to resort to surgery. Sometimes things just get out of control, and sometimes just having the resources to help you daily at losing that weight is all you really need. Sometimes I wonder who this surgery is going to benefit. I am afraid that when it comes to doing this simply because of the way you will look, well what happens when it becomes work and you no longer can sustain that weight loss. I know that this surgery had done exactly what I had hoped it would do. Most importantly I am healthier, and that makes me happier. No, I am not skinny, I am not any where near skinny, but as long as I never have to go back on medications I feel this has been a successful surgery for me.
Wednesday, September 4, 2013
Stop stressing!!
I struggle, with so many things but one big one is how much or how little to do for my child.
I don't work. From long before we conceived our son we had made the decision that someone should be home with him before he went to school and after he came home. We really were thinking that one parent would stay home until he started full time school, and then look at both of us working, but then when we discovered that he had ADHD and needed so much more than a kid without ADHD we decided that maybe it would be best to have someone home until he was able to manage better. That day hasn't come yet, however I struggle with so many things because of it.
I know as parents we want to give our kids so much more than we ever had. To me that always meant more time, more interest, more attention. But as time has gone by, and with the invention of facebook I am realizing that I am not giving nearly what others give their children and I struggle with that.
We don't have a lot of money, it isn't easy surviving on one income these days, the world has built itself on two incomes, but we manage to make ends meet and not depend on anyone else. Sure, we go with out a great deal. We don't get the opportunity to go on big family trips, we don't get to buy the car or home of our dreams, and we certainly don't buy all the newest gadgets. There are times that I feel really bad, he doesn't get all of the "things" that his peers get, but then I remind myself of the sacrifice we have made for him. I would love to go and work away from the house, it would be a nice change for me, and I would be able to buy him things that we could only dream of buying him now. I would make friends of my own, and have somewhere to go every day. I would really like that, and know so many who wouldn't know what to do with themselves if they didn't go out to work everyday. Then there are those that never see their kids but they can buy them all the ipods, ipads, and iphones that any one 8 yr old can handle. Yes, they can fill their lives with plenty of "things" that I could never buy, but really is it getting those kids anywhere.
When I am feeling bad about the lack of things and places to visit in my sons life, I remind myself that he will grow up and be able to say that his mom was there for him for all the important things in his life. I will never miss a dance recital, an event at school, a heartbreaking conversation with the girl who will break his heart for the first time. I will be there for all of the moments, maybe he won't be able to call me on his iphone, but he will be able to walk into the kitchen and sit down and talk to me. No, he may never have an ipad, but really, does he really need one? I grew up without one, and somehow I managed.
I give working mothers a great deal of credit. I can't imagine doing all the things I do a day and work a full time job on top of that. I think good for you if you can do it. I know that if I tried I would not do a good job at anything...and I want to be good at one thing, raising my child.
I think we really should sit down and think about what is really important in life, in our child's life. All the gadgets, all the vacations, all the stuff isn't going to improve their existence, but being there, really being present is what will. I don't think any mother, or father for that matter should feel bad about working full time. I think that it's just as important as staying home with your kids. What I am saying is don't stress about all the stuff. Don't think that you have to fill their lives with all kinds of things, all they ever really want is you. Yes, maybe they will ask for all that stuff, but really, if it means you work two jobs and never see them in order to get all that, don't. They will thank you for it later, believe me!
I don't work. From long before we conceived our son we had made the decision that someone should be home with him before he went to school and after he came home. We really were thinking that one parent would stay home until he started full time school, and then look at both of us working, but then when we discovered that he had ADHD and needed so much more than a kid without ADHD we decided that maybe it would be best to have someone home until he was able to manage better. That day hasn't come yet, however I struggle with so many things because of it.
I know as parents we want to give our kids so much more than we ever had. To me that always meant more time, more interest, more attention. But as time has gone by, and with the invention of facebook I am realizing that I am not giving nearly what others give their children and I struggle with that.
We don't have a lot of money, it isn't easy surviving on one income these days, the world has built itself on two incomes, but we manage to make ends meet and not depend on anyone else. Sure, we go with out a great deal. We don't get the opportunity to go on big family trips, we don't get to buy the car or home of our dreams, and we certainly don't buy all the newest gadgets. There are times that I feel really bad, he doesn't get all of the "things" that his peers get, but then I remind myself of the sacrifice we have made for him. I would love to go and work away from the house, it would be a nice change for me, and I would be able to buy him things that we could only dream of buying him now. I would make friends of my own, and have somewhere to go every day. I would really like that, and know so many who wouldn't know what to do with themselves if they didn't go out to work everyday. Then there are those that never see their kids but they can buy them all the ipods, ipads, and iphones that any one 8 yr old can handle. Yes, they can fill their lives with plenty of "things" that I could never buy, but really is it getting those kids anywhere.
When I am feeling bad about the lack of things and places to visit in my sons life, I remind myself that he will grow up and be able to say that his mom was there for him for all the important things in his life. I will never miss a dance recital, an event at school, a heartbreaking conversation with the girl who will break his heart for the first time. I will be there for all of the moments, maybe he won't be able to call me on his iphone, but he will be able to walk into the kitchen and sit down and talk to me. No, he may never have an ipad, but really, does he really need one? I grew up without one, and somehow I managed.
I give working mothers a great deal of credit. I can't imagine doing all the things I do a day and work a full time job on top of that. I think good for you if you can do it. I know that if I tried I would not do a good job at anything...and I want to be good at one thing, raising my child.
I think we really should sit down and think about what is really important in life, in our child's life. All the gadgets, all the vacations, all the stuff isn't going to improve their existence, but being there, really being present is what will. I don't think any mother, or father for that matter should feel bad about working full time. I think that it's just as important as staying home with your kids. What I am saying is don't stress about all the stuff. Don't think that you have to fill their lives with all kinds of things, all they ever really want is you. Yes, maybe they will ask for all that stuff, but really, if it means you work two jobs and never see them in order to get all that, don't. They will thank you for it later, believe me!
Thursday, June 27, 2013
One down, three more to go!
I finally finished a project I started almost a year ago. I have to admit, when I started I never thought it would take as long as it did, and I didn't know that I would learn this much about myself during the process.
Late last summer, while trolling kijiji (Canada's version of Craig's list) I came across this old work bench that someone was trying to give away. Yes, give it away, first come first serve, no money required. The thing looked in pretty bad shape, but I could see it had potential...if I was willing to give it some elbow grease. I called the owner immediately and was told that someone else had said they wanted it, but had not yet come to pick it up. I jumped on that, called my partner at work and arranged for her to pick it up on the way home from work. With all the arrangements made, I sat and waiting to see what it was I had just got myself into.
When the van finally pulled into the driveway I practically ran down the driveway, I couldn't wait to see what it was that I had gotten myself into. I ran to the back and flew open the back door and there it was, bigger than I had imagined, and in worse shape than it had appeared online, but still really beautiful. I knew in my head that it was going to be hard, but in my heart I knew I could make it beautiful. We unloaded it and put it in the garage, where it would sit for several weeks before I even really took a good look at it.
One Saturday afternoon, after hearing for the hundredth time or so "when are you going to start working on the bench" I decided it was time to start. Over to the garage I went, pulling it outside, getting a really good look at what it was and what it needed. There was a really good table under all the 2x4's on top, but I wondered if there would be anything work salvaging once I removed all that needed removing. It was worth the look I decided.
With crowbar in hand and some hammers we made our way to the bench. We both worked up a sweat trying to remove the wood, which by the way were nailed in so hard I have to wonder what anyone was thinking when they did such a thing to such a beauty. Finally, after a good hour of pulling and grunting we had the top layer off. Finally, all that was left was this beautiful tiger maple table top, just waiting for someone to love it. The day was done, all the time we had that day was spent, and back into the garage it went, where it sat for more than a month, almost two.
It was mid fall before I decided to get back to work on the project. My office was in a terrible mess and I needed a good desk with drawers, so I really needed to get this thing done. It was my Achilles heel, just sitting there reminding me on a daily bases how I needed to get it together and actually finish the project.
I had become a bit of a procrastinator. Not exactly a personal trait of mine, but something that had happened over the course of the last few years. I had all these great ideas, but for one reason or another I just couldn't seem to finished anything. I was stuck, and I needed to get unstuck. My fear was that this table was just going to sit there in the garage and become just one more reminder to me of how out of control my life had become, and how little effort I had been putting into moving forward. I was determined not to let this happen this time.
The day came when I decided I must start. I went to the store and bought a heat gun, to help remove the silver paint (yes the whole thing was painted in metallic silver, poor thing). I went to work at it that day, even though it was pretty chilly out and I would need to work hard at keeping warm, and getting the paint off. I work for a few hours that day, and then again a couple days later, and then a week or so later I again gave it some effort. Not much was happening. I had removed some of the silver paint, but discovered there was at least one layer of white below that, and under the paint there was a finish, maybe shellac or something. This was going to take an investment in time, a big one.
The weather quickly went from cool to cold, dry to wet, possible to impossible. Soon the desk was alone again in the garage, where it would sit for the winter months without being touched. Again, working as a daily reminder of what I was not doing...
This spring was a cold one, for the most part, so I didn't get out there until May, but went out with determination to get it done. I gave up on trying to melt the paint away with a heat gun, I decided to turn to chemicals. After more than 20 hours, and many chemical burns later the thing was finally stripped. Yes, I was finally past the part I thought I would never finish....this was a great step in the right direction. Next was the stain. We picked up two wonderful dark colours, ones we thought would bring it back to what should have been it's original glory. We were right. It worked beautifully, if I do say so myself. The only remaining obstacle facing me at this point was the top. It was riddled with holes, and although I tried many different ways in which to fill them, I couldn't find anything that did it justice in my mind....yes I can be a bit of a perfectionist when it comes to things like this. I thought about it for days, sometimes falling asleep at night trying to work out the problem.
This is where I leaned the biggest lesson. This is the part that sets me off, puts be in a place where I have to accept that doing something is better than not doing anything at all. This is when I have to remind myself that it's better to finish something, even if it's not perfect, rather than let it just sit there.
An idea came to me, one I felt really good about, and I knew I would be able to live with. I decided that maybe what I could do is add some leather across the top, covering all the obvious holes. Then that idea grew to one of maybe I could go even further than that, maybe I could find some old belts and make them the leather straps that would do the trick. So off to the thrift stores I went. I had it in my mind that I wanted to find the roughest, worn out belts I could find. Seems simple don't you think, well it's not. Seems thrift stores don't put out bad looking belts....but I found two that I thought would work and came home and gave them a look. Yes, they were going to work out great.
I finally finished it, and made it beautiful in my mind. I am proud that I didn't let this project take over me, or win. I'm glad that I could persevere and achieve a finished project I could be proud of. Too many times, when the going gets rough, I have just walked away and thrown in the towel in defeat. I am glad I didn't do that this time, it reminds me that if I actually put my mind to something, nothing can stand in my way. And, I have a great looking desk to prove it daily to myself.
Late last summer, while trolling kijiji (Canada's version of Craig's list) I came across this old work bench that someone was trying to give away. Yes, give it away, first come first serve, no money required. The thing looked in pretty bad shape, but I could see it had potential...if I was willing to give it some elbow grease. I called the owner immediately and was told that someone else had said they wanted it, but had not yet come to pick it up. I jumped on that, called my partner at work and arranged for her to pick it up on the way home from work. With all the arrangements made, I sat and waiting to see what it was I had just got myself into.
When the van finally pulled into the driveway I practically ran down the driveway, I couldn't wait to see what it was that I had gotten myself into. I ran to the back and flew open the back door and there it was, bigger than I had imagined, and in worse shape than it had appeared online, but still really beautiful. I knew in my head that it was going to be hard, but in my heart I knew I could make it beautiful. We unloaded it and put it in the garage, where it would sit for several weeks before I even really took a good look at it.
One Saturday afternoon, after hearing for the hundredth time or so "when are you going to start working on the bench" I decided it was time to start. Over to the garage I went, pulling it outside, getting a really good look at what it was and what it needed. There was a really good table under all the 2x4's on top, but I wondered if there would be anything work salvaging once I removed all that needed removing. It was worth the look I decided.
With crowbar in hand and some hammers we made our way to the bench. We both worked up a sweat trying to remove the wood, which by the way were nailed in so hard I have to wonder what anyone was thinking when they did such a thing to such a beauty. Finally, after a good hour of pulling and grunting we had the top layer off. Finally, all that was left was this beautiful tiger maple table top, just waiting for someone to love it. The day was done, all the time we had that day was spent, and back into the garage it went, where it sat for more than a month, almost two.
It was mid fall before I decided to get back to work on the project. My office was in a terrible mess and I needed a good desk with drawers, so I really needed to get this thing done. It was my Achilles heel, just sitting there reminding me on a daily bases how I needed to get it together and actually finish the project.
I had become a bit of a procrastinator. Not exactly a personal trait of mine, but something that had happened over the course of the last few years. I had all these great ideas, but for one reason or another I just couldn't seem to finished anything. I was stuck, and I needed to get unstuck. My fear was that this table was just going to sit there in the garage and become just one more reminder to me of how out of control my life had become, and how little effort I had been putting into moving forward. I was determined not to let this happen this time.
The day came when I decided I must start. I went to the store and bought a heat gun, to help remove the silver paint (yes the whole thing was painted in metallic silver, poor thing). I went to work at it that day, even though it was pretty chilly out and I would need to work hard at keeping warm, and getting the paint off. I work for a few hours that day, and then again a couple days later, and then a week or so later I again gave it some effort. Not much was happening. I had removed some of the silver paint, but discovered there was at least one layer of white below that, and under the paint there was a finish, maybe shellac or something. This was going to take an investment in time, a big one.
The weather quickly went from cool to cold, dry to wet, possible to impossible. Soon the desk was alone again in the garage, where it would sit for the winter months without being touched. Again, working as a daily reminder of what I was not doing...
This spring was a cold one, for the most part, so I didn't get out there until May, but went out with determination to get it done. I gave up on trying to melt the paint away with a heat gun, I decided to turn to chemicals. After more than 20 hours, and many chemical burns later the thing was finally stripped. Yes, I was finally past the part I thought I would never finish....this was a great step in the right direction. Next was the stain. We picked up two wonderful dark colours, ones we thought would bring it back to what should have been it's original glory. We were right. It worked beautifully, if I do say so myself. The only remaining obstacle facing me at this point was the top. It was riddled with holes, and although I tried many different ways in which to fill them, I couldn't find anything that did it justice in my mind....yes I can be a bit of a perfectionist when it comes to things like this. I thought about it for days, sometimes falling asleep at night trying to work out the problem.
This is where I leaned the biggest lesson. This is the part that sets me off, puts be in a place where I have to accept that doing something is better than not doing anything at all. This is when I have to remind myself that it's better to finish something, even if it's not perfect, rather than let it just sit there.
An idea came to me, one I felt really good about, and I knew I would be able to live with. I decided that maybe what I could do is add some leather across the top, covering all the obvious holes. Then that idea grew to one of maybe I could go even further than that, maybe I could find some old belts and make them the leather straps that would do the trick. So off to the thrift stores I went. I had it in my mind that I wanted to find the roughest, worn out belts I could find. Seems simple don't you think, well it's not. Seems thrift stores don't put out bad looking belts....but I found two that I thought would work and came home and gave them a look. Yes, they were going to work out great.
I finally finished it, and made it beautiful in my mind. I am proud that I didn't let this project take over me, or win. I'm glad that I could persevere and achieve a finished project I could be proud of. Too many times, when the going gets rough, I have just walked away and thrown in the towel in defeat. I am glad I didn't do that this time, it reminds me that if I actually put my mind to something, nothing can stand in my way. And, I have a great looking desk to prove it daily to myself.
Tuesday, June 11, 2013
Have the phone surgically attached to your head, it might save you some time!
Sometime ago I decided that I wanted to watch ever movie Amy Adams ever made. Obviously this is a very unattainable goal, as there are many movies she is in that I know in my heart I couldn't sit and watch. The Muppets is just one that comes to mind. I don't know why, maybe I have a little crush on her, or maybe it's just because I love the roles she picks and I think that there must be a little piece of her in ever one of those roles. If that's the case, then I think she just might be someone I would like to know, but in all reality I would never want to meet.
Watching people, either in the movies, or in real life we sometimes think we know who they are, when in reality we have no real idea at all. We make up this idea of who they are in our minds, and we like that idea, we go with it. Sometimes, those images of people are shattered when we do get to know them, or have an opportunity to meet them, as the reality is they are nothing like what we imagined.
I remember years ago Rosie O'Donnell wanted to have Barbra Streisand on her show (back in the day of the Rosie show). I remember for months she had this campaign going on, daily she would plead with Ms. Streisand to come and sit in the chair. It became kind of a running joke, no one ever thought for a minute she would actually ever oblige her. Until one day when a phone call was pushed onto the set for Rosie and on the other end was Barbra, telling her how honored she was that Rosie wanted her there so badly, but also questioned if she did, in fact, actually want that dream to become a reality. You see, Ms. Streisand was afraid that her idea of her would change after she actually met her. That Rosie had this made up idea of who Barbra Streisand was, and by meeting her that idea, that dream would be shattered by the reality of who she really is. I can understand that, especially in this case, as Rosie identified Barbra Streisand with her dead mother, the connection between the two, and who would ever want to take that away from someone.
I have had that sort of thing happen in my life. I have gotten to know, or at least have gotten the feeling about someone, but when I actually take the time to get to know them the idea was so off...way off. I have felt disappointed, in so many ways, and sure would have like to have gone back to my imagined idea of who they were.
There is someone in my life right now that I have gotten the chance to get to know, who I once had an idea of that is completely different than what has turned out to be the reality. Yes, I feel disappointed, but it's not their fault. I didn't know who they were when I conjured up this fantasy, it's not their fault that they didn't live up to it, it's all in my head. I know that it's a let down, a loss of an ideal that I wish I hadn't had, but yet I have. It's not that this person is bad, or not someone I would like, they just aren't what I thought they were.
You don't really know anyone, do you, until you actually get to know them. I think we all make up these imaginary idea's of who the people are in our lives, and then for some reason are shocked when we discover they are not at all that way. It take a long time to really get to know someone, a long time, and a great deal of effort from both sides. I have learned that truly good friends happen over time, not over night. It's mostly because you give yourself a chance to really get to know them.
I enjoy the process of getting to know a person, what makes them tick and all that. I am truly interested in the inner workings of people, but honestly, that has become more and more difficult to do as of late. It's overwhelmingly turning into a surface world. One where we only touch the surface of people, without ever taking the time to dig a little deeper. Life has just gotten too complicated for out own good, I think. I think we have all these instruments in our daily life that are supposed to simplify our lives, but in reality they consume us. We don't have time anymore for real relationships, nothing more than a 149 digit explanation of what is happening, nothing more than a status update from time to time. All of our time goes to punching in keys and leaving the thoughts on the page.
I miss the time when we actually connected, and wanted to. I want those days back!
Watching people, either in the movies, or in real life we sometimes think we know who they are, when in reality we have no real idea at all. We make up this idea of who they are in our minds, and we like that idea, we go with it. Sometimes, those images of people are shattered when we do get to know them, or have an opportunity to meet them, as the reality is they are nothing like what we imagined.
I remember years ago Rosie O'Donnell wanted to have Barbra Streisand on her show (back in the day of the Rosie show). I remember for months she had this campaign going on, daily she would plead with Ms. Streisand to come and sit in the chair. It became kind of a running joke, no one ever thought for a minute she would actually ever oblige her. Until one day when a phone call was pushed onto the set for Rosie and on the other end was Barbra, telling her how honored she was that Rosie wanted her there so badly, but also questioned if she did, in fact, actually want that dream to become a reality. You see, Ms. Streisand was afraid that her idea of her would change after she actually met her. That Rosie had this made up idea of who Barbra Streisand was, and by meeting her that idea, that dream would be shattered by the reality of who she really is. I can understand that, especially in this case, as Rosie identified Barbra Streisand with her dead mother, the connection between the two, and who would ever want to take that away from someone.
I have had that sort of thing happen in my life. I have gotten to know, or at least have gotten the feeling about someone, but when I actually take the time to get to know them the idea was so off...way off. I have felt disappointed, in so many ways, and sure would have like to have gone back to my imagined idea of who they were.
There is someone in my life right now that I have gotten the chance to get to know, who I once had an idea of that is completely different than what has turned out to be the reality. Yes, I feel disappointed, but it's not their fault. I didn't know who they were when I conjured up this fantasy, it's not their fault that they didn't live up to it, it's all in my head. I know that it's a let down, a loss of an ideal that I wish I hadn't had, but yet I have. It's not that this person is bad, or not someone I would like, they just aren't what I thought they were.
You don't really know anyone, do you, until you actually get to know them. I think we all make up these imaginary idea's of who the people are in our lives, and then for some reason are shocked when we discover they are not at all that way. It take a long time to really get to know someone, a long time, and a great deal of effort from both sides. I have learned that truly good friends happen over time, not over night. It's mostly because you give yourself a chance to really get to know them.
I enjoy the process of getting to know a person, what makes them tick and all that. I am truly interested in the inner workings of people, but honestly, that has become more and more difficult to do as of late. It's overwhelmingly turning into a surface world. One where we only touch the surface of people, without ever taking the time to dig a little deeper. Life has just gotten too complicated for out own good, I think. I think we have all these instruments in our daily life that are supposed to simplify our lives, but in reality they consume us. We don't have time anymore for real relationships, nothing more than a 149 digit explanation of what is happening, nothing more than a status update from time to time. All of our time goes to punching in keys and leaving the thoughts on the page.
I miss the time when we actually connected, and wanted to. I want those days back!
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)