Coming Home

After spending over a decade away from the itsy bitsy town in which I grew up, I'm still not accustomed to the small world that it is.

I still get a fleeting thrill when I see a local license plate before I remember that I'm actually home and they're more than common.

Last night, a nurse floated to our unit and, because it was relatively quiet, we got to chatting. She had just moved from Atlanta but, like me, grew up here. Oh, we went to the same high school! 84?, I graduated in 96. Did you know ___? What's your last name? Howe?!!! You're Franny's granddaughter?! Kathy's daughter!???

It turns out her father was a close friend of my grandpa's and my mom used to babysit her. We both, in our giddy, not-used-to-small-town-relations way, laughed and shared anecdotes all night until, like a pin in our bubble, two of the other nurses related how they discovered that they were cousins in an amazing story of medical drama and common relatives.

Humphh. Small towns.

Nighttime Events

Yesterday, because of the construction, the census on U8 was low and I was expecting to get called off. Rather, another unit needed an aide so I floated down to the JD Rehab Center, a subacute care wing of the hospital.

I arrived to find Andrea, an ICU nurse, had been borrowed too. Andrea and I have worked together many times and have become friends. We laughed together as the night began because it was a vacation; most of her patients didn't even take medications and many of mine were independent.

Ironically, I wasn't allowed to do anything but task, no charting, testing glucose or vitals because I'm not a certified nursing assistant. So my responsibilities were minimal. After the last few months of juggling both the responsibilities of an aide and unit secretary, this was refreshing. Andrea teased incessantly, tickled by my certification limitations. She thought it was a riot and would demand proof that I was qualified to carry a dinner tray or empty linen carts.

The night dragged painfully though. After what would have been a double upstairs, the clock read only 3 hours into the shift on JDR.

Then the fall occurred. Apparently, the family of Grandma Smith* had unplugged her bed alarm while they were visiting. Its shrill beep was annoying to them. After they left without resetting it, 94yr Granny Smith decided to go to the bathroom to change. We found her crying for help in a pool of blood and vomit.

Andrea and I kicked into gear like Emil Fischer's lock and key enzymes. She checked vitals and stabilized her head while I went to the desk to call a rapid response team and the ED for a lift board, cervical collar and stretcher.

The nursing staff on JDR is amazing. They're friendly, good with patients and very good at their job. They don't have many medical emergencies there though and so seemed grateful to step back to let Andrea and I take control.

The residents, newly minted PGY1 and PGY2, examined her pupils, spoke with their attending and down we went to CT. I stayed at Gran's head, pushing the stretcher with one hand and holding the emesis basin with the other. When she would get sick, I would stop the stretcher, we would slowly angle the lift board and let her vomit on her side. Her wide eyes locked with mine and she held my hand tightly. I know that she was frightened by the fall and the rapid conversations flying over her head. I wasn't really needed in the medical part of the emergency other than as a strong back so I tried to keep a constant gentle flow of words to only her to give her something to focus on. I explained everything that they were doing before they did it and her breathing slowed and deepened.

We took her to CT, then XRAY and back to her room. She settled in quickly. Andrea dressed the wound on the back of her head and I swabbed her mouth out, washed the blood and vomit off her face and shoulders and changed her gown. She even laughed at some of my lame jokes. "What did one snowman say to the other?**" Then I stepped aside and let the CNA test her blood sugar.


*not Mrs. Smith real name. Also many details have been changed to protect her, or his?, identity and the identity of my medical institution.

**answer to really lame joke: "do you smell carrots?"

Matcha

After a long day, nothing relaxes me like a cup of matcha. I like to brew mine in milk -sacrilege! I know!- instead of water; it cuts through the bitterness better.

Cleaning

The hospital is undergoing renovations. Last night, the construction workers were on our unit. They taped up little tents and began asbestos cleaning under the ceiling tiles. They were being cautious. They had even put up double drop doors in their tents to prevent any contamination when they entered or left.

Partway through the effort, I walked into the little kitchenette where we keep snacks/ice/drinks for the patients only to find one of the workers rinsing his vacuum canister in the sink. Dude.

He totally bypassed the closed/locked door with the sign on the front saying U8 staff only. (They have a master key to access all the rooms.) He was washing a disgusting greasy dusty cylinder in what was obviously a kitchen sink. I was horrified. I asked him what he was doing and then kicked him out of the kitchenette.

He claimed that he couldn't find another sink. I pointed to four sinks in the hallway and directed him to two different bathrooms, all closer to the work area than the kitchenette. Seriously, you couldn't have asked? *facepalm*

Cauliflower Quiche

I like to experiment with food. I often take random ingredients and try to combine unusual but complimentary flavors. This one was a winner.

3 eggs
1.5 cups grated cheddar cheese
.5 jalapeno pepper minced
lots of ginger
1/4 cup cream
1/4 cup water
1 package frozen cauliflower
handful of frozen spinach
handful of currants
salt/pepper to taste
bake in pie crust for 1+ hour (until firm) at 350*
garnish with currants and Italian parsley

Neighbors

My mother died last year and I've been trying to sell her house. It's a pain; the housing market in this area is incredibly depressed and mine is one of a dozen for sale in this neighborhood. I do what I can on a nursing assistant salary to maintain it. Spending hours weekly landscaping in the yard and tinkering in the house, I've become very handy. I've taught myself how to put up drywall, repair cupboards, fix burst pipes and paint/stain with the masters.

My neighbors are the same as when I was a child. I grew up with Krissy. We caught critters, played softball together and fantasized about pooling our money for a horse. The horse was to go in my backyard which I mistakenly convinced myself was zoned for farm animals. I think my father let me believe that, hoping that I would save money instead of spending it.

Krissy had a baby when she was a teenager and her parents, who live next door, often watch over him while she's at work. Over the years, particularly through my mom's extensive illness, Jack, Krissy's dad, has helped us tremendously. He mowed my mom's lawn, shoveled her drive, carried her groceries and brought in her mail when she was too weak to stand.

He was the very best neighbor anyone could have. Now he'll yell at me to be careful when I'm on the roof replacing shingles or painting ducts. He's always available in a pinch if I run out of gas or need an extra pair of hands.

His grandson, though, is a punk. Jerome is 12 now and the most disrespectful, destructive little brat I've ever had the misfortune to meet. We used to have a basketball hoop over our garage. I took it down after Jerome and his friends broke windows and cracked and shattered the vinyl siding along the garage wall.

I've come home to find shingles missing from the garage roof where they dive into the ground pool. The deck/pool is surrounded by lattice. I spent days painstakingly staining it only to find my efforts damaged from their rambunctious antics in the pool.

I've told Jack that I prefer the boys not come over without supervision. I've mentioned the damage but it has had no affect on curbing more wreckage.

I don't know what to do. Jack has been an amazing friend and neighbor over the years and I want to be able to extend open invitations to my parents' amenities. I just can't afford repairing all the destruction his grandson causes though. I've hinted that Jerome isn't welcome but it doesn't make any difference to his indulgent, doting grandparents.

This situation sucks. Any ideas out in blogland?

Real Men Eat Quiche

Quiche is an awesome dish. Simple to make, easy to experiment with and impressive to serve. My burly manly-men cousins love quiche unabashedly, without exception, and will always stop by to help around the house if I have snacks handy. This quiche helped me get my refrigerator repaired in record time!
This is my twist on the classic Italian salad.

3 eggs
1.5 cups shredded cheddar
1/4 cup mozzarella (perline)
lots of fresh basil chopped
3 Roma tomatoes diced
1 jalapeno minced
1 cup milk
1 pie crust
1/2 cup whole wheat flour
salt/pepper to taste

Bake at 375* (until firm) and let sit 1/2 hour before serving. Garnish with fresh basil.