If Christmas is about giving.. why all the taking??

This year: I hate December, I find Christmas more depressing than ever, and I'm angry with God.
Earlier this month, a Worcester firefighter was taken from his family when he died in the line of duty.  He leaves behind a fiancee, who he was supposed to marry on New Year's Eve and 3 children.  Two of his kids are in the military with one serving in Afghanistan at the time of his death.
Three days ago, one of our own firefighters collapsed at home and was rushed to our emergency room, where he was pronounced dead.  He leaves behind his wife and kids.  His 2 daughters are carrying his grandkids who he will never get the chance to meet.
Yesterday afternoon, a Peabody firefighter lost his life in the line of duty.  He leaves behind a wife and 3 children.
Last night my sister deployed.  She will be out on a boat somewhere.  She will be watching and waiting.  More importantly she will be ready to perform a search and rescue when the ocean waters try to claim a life.
If Christmas is about giving, why are so many people being taken away??  Our country's finest heroes are putting their lives on the line and some are losing their lives trying to keep everyone safe, while people are running around beating each other up over toys and sneakers while Christmas shopping.  Am I the only one who finds this just a little messed up?  People are pathetic.

Canadian escape and a stop at Crazy Town

Now that the semester is over, Tony and I decided it was time for a small weekend trip somewhere.  Orginially we were going to venture to NY and pay our respects to ground zero.  For whatever reason those plans fell through and our next idea involved Niagra Falls.  Those plans fell through as well.  Third time is a charm and we decided to keep it short and sweet.  We agreed on an over night trip to Canada.  As beautiful as Canada is, this time of year it's damn cold up there.  I had forgotten about that.

(above: the view from our hotel room)

Our hotel was right around the corner from the main attraction streets.  It was a little old and rugged looking.  But it served it's purpose and gave us a place to rest our tired heads.  Our only real mission while in Sherbrooke was to find me a specific kind of yarn (that is only sold in Canada) so that I could knit some pichous.  Pichous are a kind of slipper that I found out about when  I was a little girl.  Every summer when we would go up to Canada and visit family, my Aunt Alma also took us into her big walk-in closet full of pichous and socks that she knitted herself and we were all allowed to pick out a pair or two.  Tony got his very first pair of pichous last year when my Pepere passed away.  He loves them and wears them all the time.  So he was all excited to find me this yarn so that I could make him another pair.  Missions accomplished!

On our way back home, we got stopped going through customs.  Most likely because my passport holds a picture of me with make up on and blue hair.  Lately, I look nothing like my passport picture thanks to the stress and sleep deprivation of nursing school.  We were instructed to pull the car over and step inside the building.  I'll admit, I was nervous as to why we were being stopped, yet, I couldn't think of anything that we had done wrong.  It actually was a very pleasant customs experience.  The man asked us a bunch of questions relating to any criminal history, what brought us to Canada, what do we do for a living, etc.  We informed him that neither of us had warrants out for us nor did we have a criminal background since I'm in nursing school and would be kicked out for anything like that and Tony has served nine years in the Army with an honorable discharge.  We got to talking about Tony's diesel mechanic role in the Army and the fact that he is now in school working towards an automotive degree.  The customs gentleman referred to it as gasoline mechanics.  That's when my genius brain prompted me to pipe up with, "Diesel IS gasoline.  There's no difference."  Well, the man decided he would be nice and correct me, stating that, "Diesel is NOT gasoline."  I couldn't wrap my head around that statement.  I reminded him that diesel is, in fact, purchased at gas stations.. not the mall or grocery store.  As we casually (yet politely) argued back and forth, he finally leaned over the counter towards me and said, "You know what?  I think you should stay blonde." And he began to laugh.  Yes, the man at the customs counter had just dissed me.  I found it funny.  Here is this man who plans such a professional and important role in border safety and he's cracking jokes with me.  We filled out a claims form and were sent on our way.  We were lucky enough to not have to wait around while our car was ripped apart and searched.
We made our way down to Tony's parents' neck of the woods.  I have always enjoyed the ride so much more during the day rather than at night.  It's so beautiful.

We finally arrived at Tony's parents' place (Kat and Clyde) and I was dreading having to go inside.  As you know from previous posts, Tony's brother and sister-in-law live with Kat and Clyde.  And we all know how well I get along with them.  It's like oil and water.  Being the bigger person that I am, I went inside rather than hiding out in the car.  Tony, Clyde, and myself sat down at the kitchen table.  However, when I first walked in the door, I noticed Sarah and Everett both sitting in the living room with their faces glued to their computers while their child was in the kitchen, in her highchair, eating... totally out of their eye sight.  So not safe, but I kept my mouth shut.. because according to Sarah I know nothing about kids or how to take care of them.  Knowing how mentally unstable Sarah is, I decided to keep my distance even from her kid.  At the funeral, back in October, she was furious when she saw Tony holding her daughter.. so why do I want to get myself involved in that kind of crap?? Well.. it turned into a lose-lose situation.  The little girl curiously googoo'd and gaga'd while looking at Tony and I. When Everett asked his daughter what was wrong, Sarah piped up, "I know what's wrong. There's F***ING people in the kitchen that won't F***ING acknowledege her!!"  She continued storming around the apartment, muttering and mumbling about not getting any respect.  As far as I was concerned, in no way did I disrespect her.  If she doesn't acknowledge her own kid why should I be obligated to do so?  Eventually she began yelling at Everett about how she doesn't want her kid around Tony and I.  Yet, 30 minutes prior to that statement she was complaining that we weren't paying attention to her kid, but now she doesn't want us around her kid...?? We left for a little bit to visit with Tony's grandparents until Kat got out of work.  We went back to their apartment to invite Kat and Clyde out for pizza and back to our hotel room for a movie along with some peace and quiet away from all the bickering that Sarah and Everett do.  Tony left me in the car, so we could keep it running with the heat on, while he ran up stairs to round up his mom and dad.  When he got up there, Sarah had done a 180.  She said, "Zoe, show Uncle Tony how you walk.  Go see Uncle Tony."  Wait... what?!?!?! Are you all just as confused by this??  In all honesty, the girl seriously needs to be on medication.  Next semester we will be covering psych.. if I have to write a paper it is soooo going to be on her.  She is classic bipolar.  And yet I'm still the 'bad person' for kicking the two of them out of my apartment.  Can you blame me??

Final Sim

Yesterday we went back to the clinical facility since we were given the okay to do so.  Then we got kicked out again because the norovirus is still going around.  And once again, we find out after we've had patient contact.  Go figure.

Today is final sim lab.  Two students get scheduled for a 1 hour block of time.  One student spends thirty minutes drawing a skill out of a hat and performing it in front of the lab instructor.  The other student spends thirty minutes in a "danger room" where there is a handful of things that are unsafe for the patient. Then the two students will swap places.  I'm hoping it won't be that difficult, but I suppose it will all depend on what skill I pick.  I've never been good at picking things out of a hat.. I guess one could say that I lack skill in that area.  Oh well.  There's no turning back now.  I'm just going to have to give it my all and do the very best that I possibly can.  Wish me luck.

You have to

believe deep down in your heart that you're destined to do great things

Give meds and get a hazmat

Yesterday morning was pretty fantastic.  I was the first one, in my clinical group, picked to give meds.  I was a little nervous due to the fact that my teacher had to look over my shoulder, for educational and legal reasons.  Either way, I was prepared.  We took the basket of medications, in their blister packs, into the patients room and double checked everything with the MAR.  I confidently reached for the first blister pack, which had one Plavix pill left.  I popped the package, aiming it into the medicine cup.  Epic fail!  The pill went flying across the room and onto the floor.  Urgh. Only me, right?  I kept my cool though.  It was only a pill falling onto the floor.  It's not like I killed anyone.  Pills can be replaced, people cannot.  Which is exactly what my teacher and I did after administering the rest of my patient's meds.  All in all, it was a success.

Later on in the day, we sat in a group for our clinical debriefing.  One of the staff members from the clinical facility walked in on our little meeting to inform us that we will not be allowed in the building for the rest of the week due a patient testing positive for the norovirus.  She recommended that we go home, strip down before going inside, immediately put our scrubs into the wash, and boil ourselves in a hot, hot shower.  Fantastic!  I'm praying that I didn't pick up any germs!  I can't afford to get that sick so close to the end of the semester!!  I'm holding my breath and keeping my fingers crossed!

3 Options: Go home, Go home, or Go home.

I'm thankful to not have to work this weekend, however, I have so much school work to do that I don't even know where to begin.  Speaking of work, I got sent home on Thursday.  I was told that my CNA license expired and that I couldn't return to work until I had an active license.  Of course administration waited until a code blue situation to bother me about the whole thing.  I mailed out my paper work, to the red cross, back in September knowing that my license was due to expire near the end of October.  Seeing as the red cross claimed to have never received my paper work, I had been working with an expired license for just shy of a month.  And yes, they waited until a code blue to tell me that I had to go home.  As if I, all of a sudden, didn't know how to help save a life.  I sat down with my manager and was given 3 options:

1. Fill out new paperwork, mail it out again, wait 30 days for my license and of course not be allowed to work in the mean time.
2. Fill out new paperwork, pay an arm and two legs to have it shipped over night.
3. Fill out new paperwork and personally turn it in at the red cross office in Cambridge, MA.

I can't not work for 30 days and I was certainly not about to hand over all of my appendages to pay for over night shipping.  Either way I was being sent home, so I went with the most reasonable option of driving to Cambridge and being able to walk out of the ARC office with proof in hand of my license being reactivated.
Thursday's quote of sarcasm: "Thank you American Red Cross for totally sucking at life and screwing up my day."

Birthday Girl

Yesterday I turned 27. I was told by many to enjoy the day and relax.  It seems that the older we get the more we wish for the simple things in life, such as a day of rest and relaxation.  It would've been absurd for me to wish such silly things.  Instead, I spent the first half of my day at clinical doing a review of my patient's chart.  When I got home, I was able to spend an hour with Tony before he went to work.  After he left, I did some chapter outlining, studied, and took an online exam.  Nothing too exciting nor was my day relaxing.  The best part about it all was when Tony came home from work with a cake for me.

No need for flowers though.  He surprised me with a dozen roses a couple of weeks ago when I burst into tears one morning before work.  The stress of everything had finally built up enough to break me down.  Thankfully I have a husband who refuses to watch me fall to pieces.  He always knows how to put me back together again.