And that was it

I felt so sorry today.

Tomorrow my friend is doing his final practical so today I went to work to help him. I was so wrapped up with his exam patients that I barely noticed what was happening a few beds away.

There was an illegal immigrant in a single room. He had a rebreather mask on (a mask with a bag attached) and he was breathing rapidly and heavily. My friend gave him the thumbs-up sign questionably and he shook his head. We called the nursing officer.

The patient started writhing about, shaking his arms, his head everywhere, his eyes buldging. He was given pain relief. They started CPR. I was at the door saying to myself "Please don't die, please don't die."

Nurses were running through the ward, trying to save this man's life. But there came a point where he could fight no more. The light left his eyes. Then he left us. The nurses put down their hands and sighed. There was nothing we could do for him now.

And that was it.
And this is my life. Hovering amongst people who might die and who will die.

a few end of the day thoughts

just a few random thoughts...

1. The only thing I really dislike about nursing is waking up so early.

2. I need to eat more wholegrains

3. I'm getting LOADS of stomach acid

4. My cat is getting cuddlier in her old age

5. I need to make an effort to walk an hr a day...I used to do it, i don't know why I stopped

6. Ah, wait I stopped because it has become too cold to walk about

7. I don't eat as much chocolate as I used to...I guess I'm developing a bit of a conscience

8. I have started biting my nails again.

9. I have to finish my thesis

10. I have to figure out my future, on all facets.

good night everybody.

We've been struck by a smooth hindu with love handles.

Well, my life isn't all about nursing and sometimes on the weekends I am even able to forget about nursing altogether. However this is only possible through the antics of my friends but mostly my family. Friday was the apex of my weekend.

Friday evening: My brother is a librarian to an international school. That night, his school put on a talent show so he had to go out earlier than usual. My sister and I were watching DVDs when he comes in, wearing only his black cordorouys. My bro was once quite chub-chub, but then he lost a ton of weight, and even though he lost loads, his man-boobs still persist. He came to ask fashion advice of my sister and I. When I looked at him, I said "Bob, you have love-handles! But don't worry, me and Yvonne (my sis) have them too! Hahahahahah!" He replied "oh well, I always had them" and he CUPPED HIS INDIE TITS! My sis and I fell on the floor laughing! Then my dad came in and Yvonne said "Dad, do you know what love handles are?" My dad turned red so I told him "Its nothing rude, so don't even go there." So he thought a little and said "Ah, yes!....Ears!" Once again, we couldn't contain ourselves. I told my sis that I guess men just don't know what love handles are. So as a final test we asked my man and he said "Yeah, the fat around a girls hips...I have them too." Kudos to you, my love, you got it right!

So later on my dad decides to take us out for some Indian food. I got a little pissed off because he wanted to go to this complete tourist trap, but he was paying so I shut up. My sister and I walked through the door and my dad followed. Its good to mention at this point that my dad is a BIG man, quite intimidating and not a force to be reckoned with. The following conversation ensued:

Smooth Hindu: Hello girls, table for 2?
Yvonne: No, for three.
Hindu: No, for two, for two.
Yvonne: NO. For THREE.
Hindu: Ah. Do you girls have money?

At this point my sis turns to me with a quizzicle look on her face so I intervene.

Me: I DON'T think I'd go to a restaurant without money.
Hindu: And where do you get your money from?
Yvonne (whispering in my ear): does he think we are prostitutes?
(I didn't feel like dealing with him anymore) Me: Erm...there's my dad right behind me....
Hindu: Then you are 2 verrrrry lucky girls.

What the hell?

Then my dad got mad.

Dad: "I SHOULD LEAVE THIS RESTAURANT RIGHT NOW! WHO THE HELL DO YOU THINK YOU ARE TALKING TO MY DAUGHTERS LIKE THAT!"

Hindu: Oh, I am very sorry, I was only having fun with your girls.

Dad: "NO! YOU WILL NOT HAVE FUN WITH MY GIRLS! (oh Lord, I thought my dad was gonna erupt like a volcano) NOW DIRECT US TO OUR TABLE!"

The waiter kept apologising throughout the whole meal and my dad kept saying its ok and all. It was hilarious.

On saturday I had to think of nursing again, so I conducted more interviews for my thesis. 5 down, 5 to go and it will soon be all over. I can't wait. Then finals, then final practical and I am a nurse! yeeee ha!

Well, today is sunday and my man and I are supposed to spend it together, so we'll see what will happen later.

Hope you have all had a great weekend, much love.

With a side of diarrhoea...

Oh my God, was I mad today!

Since the diploma final years need an extra student during their final practical, I was at work, helping my final year get ready (his exam is 2moro, btw so keep him in your prayers). Since I'm a final year BSc student, my student got lucky because usually first years are allocated for this job, and since there weren't enough diploma first years to go around, I am filing in along with some other BSc final year students...and trust me, no sane 4th year wants to teach some new and pimply adolescent junior nurse from scratch so getting a fourth year is like a sweet dessert at the end of a raw deal.

So I was in the nursing officer's office getting things ready when someone calls me to change a nappy...no problemo, I think. That is until I meet Ralph.

Ralph is scottish and he has a laugh like Muttley, a sort of irritating hissssssss. He has only one leg because the other was amputated a year ago. He needs to get to dialysis and he wanted a clean nappy before he went. Fair enough. However he did not warn me that he had explosive diarrhoea and as soon as I took it off, he farted and a shot of diarrhoea landed at my hip and slithered down to my white trousers. And when I say "shot" I don't mean a miniscule pellet, I mean a large bomb of liquidy, foul-smelling, crud. However, do you know why I got so mad? Because not only did he soil freshly bleached white trousers, but he couldn't stop laughing about it!

HOLY SHIT! WHAT THE HELL? HOW DARE HE LET OUT HIS EXPLOSIVE DIARRHOEA ON MY UNIFORM! WHAT DID HE EAT FOR SUPPER YESTERDAY, A HAND GRENADE? fILLED WITH BEANS PERHAPS? LORD, I KNOW SHIT DOESN'T SMELL LIKE ROSES, BUT NEITHER DOES IT SMELL LIKE DEATH!! AND HE'D BETTER STOP LAUGHING BECAUSE I'LL SHOVE MY FOOT SO HARD UP HIS CRUDDY ASS THAT HE WILL GET IMPALED!!

But ofcourse I didn't say this. I politely excused myself, scrubbed the hell out of my trousers with alcohol, hydrogen peroxide, soap and water (while they were still on me), took the patient to dialysis and put on a pair of jeans when I got back.

Jesus it made me angry. It felt good to write about it though.

the johari window

the johari window is about personality and how others perceive you...please take a moment to fill in mine here: http://kevan.org/johari?name=Nurse

or this link, i dunno which one wrks, but try this one first: http://kevan.org/johari?view=Nurse%20Pica

We've got jungle fever

I thought it couldn't happen and it was all an exaggeration but it is true. In the final year of nursing, you change. But not in a good way. We are like animals, without a voice yet always at the ready if we are threatened.

We don't laugh anymore. We don't smile anymore, except for the fake ones we wear in front of our patients. Our fuses are shorter than ever, we fight and make up at the drop of a hat. Our health is suffering, back-pain, reflux and stomach acid, weight gain, weight loss. We feel guilt and a lack of freedom and we grumble at anyone who wants to listen and we all make a huge effort not to grumble in front of loved ones. We have become boring and ungrateful. We can't laugh at bedsores and demented patients...and since it is humour and dehumanisation which keeps us sane, it is no wonder that we are all slowly but surely losing what is left of the fragments of our sanity.

I realise the great seriousness that is illness. It isn't funny and it isn't a laugh. It is sorrowful and horrible and tragic. This is exactly why the course is so demanding. To permanently stamp into our heads that nursing is very serious- we deal one to one with disease.

Today one of our lecturers decided to ask us basically what is causing our high stress levels. Ofcourse, it couldn't be a civilised task. We were like animals in the jungle, fighting for survival, attacking each other at one point, at the next forming allies. We were pouncing like pumas, trumpeting like elephants , screaming like banshees and threatening like gorillas beating their chests. Some of us were taken aback by the battle and sat still but attentive like meer cats. All of us were looking out for the weakness of others, whether a fellow student or quadruped or bi-ped hunter known as the lecturers and examiners.

Yet over and above is the fierce and ever present lion, the king of the jungle, leading all the other animals. This beast is none other than disease. It is what leads us and drives us to go on. We try to manipulate it and understand it and as paradoxical as it sounds, it will be the means of our living.

We have five months to outsmart our hunters and until we perform our final practical. Until then, its survival of the fittest.

my data collection

I have just started the data collection for my thesis...a series of interviews with patients who have a stoma. For those not in the know, a stoma is a hole in the abdomen to which the intestine is attached and therefore one proceeds to void himself through this hole into a bag rather than through the rectum into the toilet.

I have conducted my pilot study and everything went smoothly...however I noticed that how these people are simply dying to tell their story. So much so that when I am conducting interviews they completely digress and start telling me about how their children react to their condition, how doctors have treated them and how their pet can smell them.

Which all boils down to this theory I have: that everyone has a story to tell...and even the most reserved and secretive of people are dying to tell it, as long as someone will listen. Sometimes I think I'm gifted because everyone seems to want to tell me their story...then again I am very non-judgemental and thats what people want...people usually don't want approval for their actions...they don't want disapproval either...in fact, they won't want any sort of opinion at all. They just want someone to know what they have been through and the consequences. And ofcourse understanding.

So data collection isn't just something I am doing for my course and with patients. It is something I do every day, with everyone I know. And it isn't just data collection. Its story-telling and like a child, I listen, draw my own conclusions but remain silent.

A lack of Vision

Usually I post about hospital related occurances, so I am sure that right now everyone is thinking that I am going to tell some humourous tale about a blind patient ambling about, not knowing where he is going or perhaps being too proud to ask for help.

Well, what I am about to relate is pretty much the same, but different.

Yesterday I went over to my manfriend's house to watch the "Malta song for europe" competition, to see which song would be chosen to take part in the Eurovision song contest. I think yesterday I felt least proud to be Maltese, seriously.

First a few shallow points...

Jesus Christ, who dressed those singers? I felt sorry for most of them. Did they honestly look in the mirror and say "Oh, I look gorgeous, I most sincerely am the belle of this competition."? Were their parents and relatives watching them at home saying "Look how far my baby has come! Taking part in eurovision song for europe!" In a fuck ugly dress I may add. Fish-tail dresses were the popular choice for the evening but ofcourse they were worn by the wrong people. Yes, Nicole Kidman might wear one, Gwyneth Peltrow might wear one but do you know what these 2 fabulous women have in common? THEY ARE STICK THIN! On behalf of fat-bottomed girls everywhere (and trust me, I am one of them) keep away from hip-hugging, fish tail evening gowns; you can only lose. Kudos go to Olivia Lewis who tried the very up and coming Edwardian look however her stylist got it wrong in ill-fitting trousers and a ruffle that looked like a fancy noose.

Also too much make-up was the order of the night and I wonder how many of them bought a hammer and chisel this morning to crack it off...well they also could have tried scraping it off with a lock of their own hair because there was so much gel and spray that the rock hard helmet look prevailed.

And how can one forget the performances? Look people, choreographed pathos NEVER works. It isn't cool. And rubbing shoulders with the guitarist of your band went out with Jon Bon Jovi when he got his hair cut. Woo hoo hoo, were these guys were living on a prayer. Unfortunately, they weren't even half way there. And what about the Warrior sisters? Their pathos wasn't even in synch. And who could forget the other sisters, the maltese Britney and Lynne Spears? The way that younger one was dancing and jumping up and down in that sparkly purple cat-suit and her sister who stopped singing just because her microphone didnt work...that is a big no no. As all performers should know, the show must go on, despite technical faults.

That's another thing...one of Malta's biggest shows and there were technical faults! And it wasn't just any show, it was a competition. As a result, the faulted songs were played again...was this fair? Ok, it wasn't fair to have your microphone not working during your moment, but is it fair to the other contestants to have your song played twice? lets put it this way, with songs written for eurovision, generally you don't need to listen to more than 20 seconds of it to get the vibe of it all and if the microhpone stopped working in the middle of a 4minute song...well, you do the math.

The half time show depressed me. There was this guy dressed up as a taxi (yes, a taxi) who was running through the audience and passing comments in a loud and crude voice. He was completely unfunny and he couldn't even think of 2 original jokes because he passed the exact same comments to two different people and carried out the exact same distasteful monologue. It was like a broken record.

Yet the pinnacle of my anger was reached when the eurovision-hater of all time took to the stage: Lou Bondi. What the hell???? He hates eurovision yet embraced it last night by playing guitar (badly) to the most commercial Beatle's songs in existance. Was he trying to patch things up between him and the eurovision-loving public, to make his repetoire more rich, so to speak? Before introducing him they put up a small feature of his eurovision-hating life...so what, now he converted to the eurovision holiness? What a sell out. If he had the slightest amount of integrity, he would have stuck to his guns...the only thing I ever agreed with Lou Bondi on was his dislike for Eurovision...now, he has completely lost all credibility. Oh, and he should have taken some guitar lessons, starting with Anti-Pathos 101.

In all honesty it saddened me. This is NOT how I want Maltese people to be portrayed...as people without a clue. The wrong people are in charge of the wrong things, and everyone is afraid to comment for fear of a law-suit or being hated by the general public and having all the politics on this island against you. Yesterday's event was a celebration of mediocrity and everyone is too blind to see it.

Yes its very easy for me to sit here, behind a false name and criticise...however I value my job and I value my reputation and I dont want it ruined in a heartbeat, especially since my intentions are benevolent. I know that once word gets out about this post I will be attacked. I would love to be able to help make Malta a better place and I try to do so in my own little life, with my patients. However I would like to wake up the organisers of these events or at least help them broaden their obviously very small and closed minds. Once again, it all boils down to how satisfied this country is with itself and nobody even thinks about it possibly being better, more advanced...so we either remain static or else decline.

This isnt Eurovison. Its Lack of vision.

Much love everybody.