... and my palms were sweating a bit as I hit the "submit order" button. Trees are expensive! But I consider this an investment in our future and our food security... and for the cost of about 1.5 months of groceries, we are purchasing bushels and bushels of food for years to come.
From Miller's Nursery, I ordered:
50 Ozark and 50 Tribute strawberry plants
3 Heritage, 3 Latham, 3 Bristol and 3 Allen raspberry plants
2 Ivanhoe, 2 Atlantic, and 2 Herbert blueberry plants
25 SuperMale and 10 Purple Passion asparagus plants
1 BlackGold standard cherry tree
1 Summer Rambo semi-dwarf apple tree
1 Sops of Wine semi-dwarf apple tree
From Jung's, I ordered:
2 Composters http://www.jungseed.com/dp.asp?pID=53150&c=212&p=Garden+Gourmet+Composter I intend to set these side by side, with one for "fresher" compost material and one for "finishing" material.
1 Sunlight calculator to determine how much light different areas of the property receive.
1 bag of soil acidifier, for those blueberry bushes!
Add to this my Gurney's order of:
1 standard Gala apple
1 standard Liberty apple
and we have the beginnings of our orchard. I would have loved to have added some anjou pears, some asian pears, peaches, a plum tree or two, lots of ferns and an entire vineyard's worth of grape vines... but it was just not practical to do so. The vineyard will be next year's project, after we've done some more research on pruning and trellis construction. Stone fruits are fickle and prone to disease, and I'd like a year or two of successful fruit tree pruning and maintainance under our belts before we attempt to grow peaches without spraying the heck out of them.
One step at a time, we're going to build ourselves a working homestead that provides us with sustainable, affordable, and healthy food year round. What a concept.
Sunday, February 27, 2011
Saturday, February 26, 2011
A teaser
Yesterday felt like early Spring. I woke up before dawn (working night shift makes my sleep schedule on days off very unpredictable), started a loaf of bread, and put in a few job applications. By the time the sky was light, it was pouring heavy rain and the chickens were looking at me from the door of the warm, dry coop like it was all my fault. I told them to pretend to be ducks and be happy it wasn't snow. A few hours later it was drizzly with intermittent breaks of brilliant, sparkling sunshine, the temperature was 60 degrees, and wind gusts were up to 60mph. I'll take it.
I'm anxious to start some seeds, but can't justify doing so when I don't even have the location picked out for our veggie garden at the new house. I have an idea of where it might go, but I need to get the soil tested, figure out exactly how much sun it gets, measure the square footage of the spot, till it, enrich it with compost. Then I have to lay out beds and paths, and finally fence it. I doubt I can get all of that done in time for planting any long-season crops like 'maters, on top of clearing and planting the orchard and berry patch.
There is a lot of good work ahead of us, between fixing up the house, barn, greenhouse, and gardens. I'm trying to prepare for it and not get myself into trouble by planning to do too much.
In other news, Honeybunch constructed two pairs of fire fans for us this past week. A very talented friend of ours is going to start teaching fan dancing workshops, and we're excited to learn. Fire fans are a prop I've always wanted to play with but haven't had the opportunity. Now I find myself picking them up each time I walk by, spinning them on my fingers and tossing them in the air (clumsily, mind you... but I'll get better). I think that learning to use a new tool is exactly what I need to free myself from the plateau I've been stuck on for months with my hoop. New tools open up new patterns of movement in my body, and that will translate to the hoop eventually.
I'm anxious to start some seeds, but can't justify doing so when I don't even have the location picked out for our veggie garden at the new house. I have an idea of where it might go, but I need to get the soil tested, figure out exactly how much sun it gets, measure the square footage of the spot, till it, enrich it with compost. Then I have to lay out beds and paths, and finally fence it. I doubt I can get all of that done in time for planting any long-season crops like 'maters, on top of clearing and planting the orchard and berry patch.
There is a lot of good work ahead of us, between fixing up the house, barn, greenhouse, and gardens. I'm trying to prepare for it and not get myself into trouble by planning to do too much.
In other news, Honeybunch constructed two pairs of fire fans for us this past week. A very talented friend of ours is going to start teaching fan dancing workshops, and we're excited to learn. Fire fans are a prop I've always wanted to play with but haven't had the opportunity. Now I find myself picking them up each time I walk by, spinning them on my fingers and tossing them in the air (clumsily, mind you... but I'll get better). I think that learning to use a new tool is exactly what I need to free myself from the plateau I've been stuck on for months with my hoop. New tools open up new patterns of movement in my body, and that will translate to the hoop eventually.
Thursday, February 24, 2011
I suppose my life is in some sort of balance. I am extremely unhappy with work, but other things are going really, really well.
Let's start with the good stuff. I am immensely lucky in love, I am healthy once again, and things are moving along in the journey to owning our very own little homestead. The sellers have agreed to fix or write us checks for the stuff that came up on the home inspection report, and we are so relieved. Thus far, the house-buying process has been stressful, but it could have been worse. Buying a 210 year old house is risky in a lot of ways, but so far there haven't been any horrendous surprises that have made us doubt our choice. We are both so ready to walk into that house, take a deep breath, and say, "we're home". Two weeks from tomorrow, it's going to happen!
The new chicks we ordered should be arriving right around Honeybunch's birthday in early April. I can't wait to hear their tiny peeps... it's a sure sign of Spring. All that's left of our little flock is Popcorn (Sexlink), Bambi (Araucana), Marie (Barred Rock) and Lady Jane (Black Cochin). The other five birds in the backyard right now belong to Good Neighbor, who is adjusting to the idea of taking care of them all alone. In our hatchery order, we are going for good egg production, but a bit of the exotic and colorful, too... so we ordered:
2 Black Australorp pullets
3 Araucana pullets
1 Araucana rooster
1 Buff Cochin pullet
1 Golden Polish pullet
4 Silver Laced Wyandotte pullets
...and McMurray threw in a "free exotic chick" of an unknown breed (I wonder if this post will be blocked on some people's computers because of that phrase!). We met the minimum with Good Neighbor's order (Blue Andalusians, Buff Laced Polish, Light Brahma, White Capped Black Polish) and a couple for StitchyWitchy (Golden Polish and Barred Rock). It is wonderful to see both my "real life" friends and neighbors as well as the many bloggers I read online preparing for the upcoming growing season. It feels like we're all going into this together, scribbling our "To-Do" lists in some demonstration of solidarity and community as winter draws to a close.
As far as work goes... I'd honestly rather not think about it. We aren't being provided with the staff or the supplies we need to give excellent nursing care, and we're constantly berated for not "raising our patient satisfaction survey scores". The higher-ups don't seem to understand the direct cause and effect relationship between having unsafe numbers of patients per nurse (7 and 8 patients per nurse means chaos even if they aren't all terribly sick) and having unhappy patients and unhappy nurses. I'm frustrated, angry, and looking for a new job. I'm also sipping a margarita with my breakfast (dinner?) as I write, decompressing from last night's 12.5 hours of absolute frenzy as I scrambled to push meds, complete paperwork, clean up feces, and effectively care for my patients' many complex needs. It takes a lot to ruffle my feathers... I'm usually a very steady hand when it comes to high-stress situations... and last night I was nearly in tears.
I'm going to choose to think about baby chicks, honeybees, and what colors we might paint our new bedroom... goodnight/morning everyone.
Let's start with the good stuff. I am immensely lucky in love, I am healthy once again, and things are moving along in the journey to owning our very own little homestead. The sellers have agreed to fix or write us checks for the stuff that came up on the home inspection report, and we are so relieved. Thus far, the house-buying process has been stressful, but it could have been worse. Buying a 210 year old house is risky in a lot of ways, but so far there haven't been any horrendous surprises that have made us doubt our choice. We are both so ready to walk into that house, take a deep breath, and say, "we're home". Two weeks from tomorrow, it's going to happen!
The new chicks we ordered should be arriving right around Honeybunch's birthday in early April. I can't wait to hear their tiny peeps... it's a sure sign of Spring. All that's left of our little flock is Popcorn (Sexlink), Bambi (Araucana), Marie (Barred Rock) and Lady Jane (Black Cochin). The other five birds in the backyard right now belong to Good Neighbor, who is adjusting to the idea of taking care of them all alone. In our hatchery order, we are going for good egg production, but a bit of the exotic and colorful, too... so we ordered:
2 Black Australorp pullets
3 Araucana pullets
1 Araucana rooster
1 Buff Cochin pullet
1 Golden Polish pullet
4 Silver Laced Wyandotte pullets
...and McMurray threw in a "free exotic chick" of an unknown breed (I wonder if this post will be blocked on some people's computers because of that phrase!). We met the minimum with Good Neighbor's order (Blue Andalusians, Buff Laced Polish, Light Brahma, White Capped Black Polish) and a couple for StitchyWitchy (Golden Polish and Barred Rock). It is wonderful to see both my "real life" friends and neighbors as well as the many bloggers I read online preparing for the upcoming growing season. It feels like we're all going into this together, scribbling our "To-Do" lists in some demonstration of solidarity and community as winter draws to a close.
As far as work goes... I'd honestly rather not think about it. We aren't being provided with the staff or the supplies we need to give excellent nursing care, and we're constantly berated for not "raising our patient satisfaction survey scores". The higher-ups don't seem to understand the direct cause and effect relationship between having unsafe numbers of patients per nurse (7 and 8 patients per nurse means chaos even if they aren't all terribly sick) and having unhappy patients and unhappy nurses. I'm frustrated, angry, and looking for a new job. I'm also sipping a margarita with my breakfast (dinner?) as I write, decompressing from last night's 12.5 hours of absolute frenzy as I scrambled to push meds, complete paperwork, clean up feces, and effectively care for my patients' many complex needs. It takes a lot to ruffle my feathers... I'm usually a very steady hand when it comes to high-stress situations... and last night I was nearly in tears.
I'm going to choose to think about baby chicks, honeybees, and what colors we might paint our new bedroom... goodnight/morning everyone.
Sunday, February 20, 2011
Beehive complete!
Yesterday was a day well spent. Honeybunch and I constructed our very first beehive, and if I may say so, it's a winner.
It took about four hours in total. The directions called for nailing it together, but we used screws for the the body of the hive and a heavy duty staple gun to put together the frames. My kitchen floor was covered in sawdust, my hands ached, but now our little ladies will have a place to live when they arrive in April. All that's left to do is paint it. We're thinking a "Bambi Egg Blue", the light teal color of one of our Araucana's eggs.
I'm feeling about 80% normal now. I'm fairly certain my illness was in fact pneumonia. My doc put me on some macrolide antibiotics and within 36 hours I was feeling like a new woman. I still have a hard time clearing my chest first thing when I wake up, but it's nothing like it was, thank goodness.
A little family-owned candle store that I worked at for several years in high school is closing, I just found out. It had been there for decades, and was a landmark in my little hometown. The owners are wonderful people. Cathy was supportive of me when I went to college early, always interested in how I was doing in my schoolwork, always willing to work with my schedule, and she even make a little care package of really nice shea butter body products for my sister when she joined the Air Force. She had never even met my sister.
Her husband was a hilarious gentleman named Bob who loved the Beatles and the principles of independence and self reliance ("and it pisses me off that all of a sudden I turn 65 and I have to join up with this government healthcare program and lose my old coverage!!"). He unfortunately passed away several years ago from a stroke, only a year after receiving a lung transplant. I still think of him often, and his spunky attitude that persisted despite his dependence on a portable oxygen tank.
It breaks my heart to see that place close, and not only because I've developed a serious dependence on high-quality essential-oil fragranced candles and rich shea butter soaps. It's a sure sign of the hard times we're living in, and another stepping stone in the path that is laid for my hometown from independent small businesses to vacant storefronts and chain businesses.
I'm feeling about 80% normal now. I'm fairly certain my illness was in fact pneumonia. My doc put me on some macrolide antibiotics and within 36 hours I was feeling like a new woman. I still have a hard time clearing my chest first thing when I wake up, but it's nothing like it was, thank goodness.
A little family-owned candle store that I worked at for several years in high school is closing, I just found out. It had been there for decades, and was a landmark in my little hometown. The owners are wonderful people. Cathy was supportive of me when I went to college early, always interested in how I was doing in my schoolwork, always willing to work with my schedule, and she even make a little care package of really nice shea butter body products for my sister when she joined the Air Force. She had never even met my sister.
Her husband was a hilarious gentleman named Bob who loved the Beatles and the principles of independence and self reliance ("and it pisses me off that all of a sudden I turn 65 and I have to join up with this government healthcare program and lose my old coverage!!"). He unfortunately passed away several years ago from a stroke, only a year after receiving a lung transplant. I still think of him often, and his spunky attitude that persisted despite his dependence on a portable oxygen tank.
It breaks my heart to see that place close, and not only because I've developed a serious dependence on high-quality essential-oil fragranced candles and rich shea butter soaps. It's a sure sign of the hard times we're living in, and another stepping stone in the path that is laid for my hometown from independent small businesses to vacant storefronts and chain businesses.
Friday, February 18, 2011
Days later...
...and I'm still ill. I started on a course of antibiotics under the assumption that I have pneumonia without a chest x-ray to confirm it, and with today being dose day #2 I'm feeling some modest improvements. The crap I'm hacking up out of my lungs is coming up with less muscle-aching effort, and it's now clear instead of brown. Huzzah! My fever is gone, and the sore throat is waning (though I still don't have a voice to speak of).
It's a full moon tonight, a Wolf Moon, and every part of me begs to be out playing beneath it. Unfortunately, I'm just not well enough yet to take advantage of the 60 degree weather with a brisk barefoot run in the woods this evening, grinning and sweating and splashing through the muddy puddles of thawed snow and ice. But I think I should be able to take a gentle stroll, with plenty of tissues in my pockets. I'll try to not be too disappointed, knowing that this is just a teaser, and that there will be plenty of warm nights under the moon ahead with spring and summer approaching. I'll content myself with a walk, and with a second night of sleeping with the windows open.
Three weeks from today we go to settlement. We submitted our reply to the home inspection, requesting that the sellers complete treatment for the wood-destroying insects we saw evidence of, that they replace or repair the damaged windows, and that they replace the built-in dishwasher that apparently doesn't work. The water testing came back with elevated lead levels, so we're going to install an under-sink reverse osmosis filter system for our drinking and cooking water. I've started boxing up our books and trinkets. The reality of the situation comes and goes for me... I don't think it's going to really feel REAL until we have the keys in our hands.
We're getting together our hatchery order, and have almost met the minimum chick order of 25 for McMurray between our order and Good Neighbor's order. As soon as another friend or two commit to at least 4 more chicks, we'll place that order and know that little fluffy peeps will be arriving in early April. The house comes with a brand new chicken coop, strangely enough it had never been used and the sellers have no problem leaving it with us. It's this one, actually, http://www.mcmurrayhatchery.com/4x6_coops.html , and it's just about the right size for our flock that will soon number 16.
We've decided to wait to order the goslings. With a new house, baby trees, bees, and chicks arriving all around the same time, we don't wait to bite off more than we can chew and have other living creatures suffer for it. We also want to get the pond water tested before bringing in water fowl. So perhaps later in the summer we'll order them, but if not there's always next year!
It's a full moon tonight, a Wolf Moon, and every part of me begs to be out playing beneath it. Unfortunately, I'm just not well enough yet to take advantage of the 60 degree weather with a brisk barefoot run in the woods this evening, grinning and sweating and splashing through the muddy puddles of thawed snow and ice. But I think I should be able to take a gentle stroll, with plenty of tissues in my pockets. I'll try to not be too disappointed, knowing that this is just a teaser, and that there will be plenty of warm nights under the moon ahead with spring and summer approaching. I'll content myself with a walk, and with a second night of sleeping with the windows open.
Three weeks from today we go to settlement. We submitted our reply to the home inspection, requesting that the sellers complete treatment for the wood-destroying insects we saw evidence of, that they replace or repair the damaged windows, and that they replace the built-in dishwasher that apparently doesn't work. The water testing came back with elevated lead levels, so we're going to install an under-sink reverse osmosis filter system for our drinking and cooking water. I've started boxing up our books and trinkets. The reality of the situation comes and goes for me... I don't think it's going to really feel REAL until we have the keys in our hands.
We're getting together our hatchery order, and have almost met the minimum chick order of 25 for McMurray between our order and Good Neighbor's order. As soon as another friend or two commit to at least 4 more chicks, we'll place that order and know that little fluffy peeps will be arriving in early April. The house comes with a brand new chicken coop, strangely enough it had never been used and the sellers have no problem leaving it with us. It's this one, actually, http://www.mcmurrayhatchery.com/4x6_coops.html , and it's just about the right size for our flock that will soon number 16.
We've decided to wait to order the goslings. With a new house, baby trees, bees, and chicks arriving all around the same time, we don't wait to bite off more than we can chew and have other living creatures suffer for it. We also want to get the pond water tested before bringing in water fowl. So perhaps later in the summer we'll order them, but if not there's always next year!
Wednesday, February 16, 2011
Worst patient ever.
Nurses really do make the worst patients.
That tickle in my throat evolved into "omg I'm going to die I can't stand this discomfort anymore" in a matter of hours. Sore throat, post-nasal drip, tight chest, fever... I spent all of yesterday in bed, moaning and hacking up nasty stuff and eating popsicles. I had to call out from work (the second time in two weeks, I can't believe it) because I was still febrile come evening time. Today I'm a bit better, my fever is still hanging on (a nagging 99.2 degrees), but I'm going into work in a few minutes anyway, because I'm afraid they'll kill me if I miss another night.
I feel so bad for Honeybunch when I get sick. I am one of the most whiney, pain-in-the-ass sick people you can imagine. I doubt he got any sleep last night for my tossing, turning, hacking, coughing, sniffling and sweating.
In other news, our beehive parts arrived! I'm hoping for good weather and good health this weekend so we can begin assembling it.
I also placed one of our nursery orders, taking advantage of a sale at Gurney's, for a standard gala apple tree, a standard Liberty apple tree, and some lettuce and Roma tomato seeds. I'm waiting to place the BIG one, our Miller's order, which will contain the rest of the fruit trees, berries and asparagus plants. I've whittled it down to what I believe will require a manageable amount of space, work, and cash for our first year. It was waaayyy too easy to get overexcited and want to order too much, too fast!
Well, I'm off to work... here's hoping that these 12 hours don't set me back in my progress towards wellness.
That tickle in my throat evolved into "omg I'm going to die I can't stand this discomfort anymore" in a matter of hours. Sore throat, post-nasal drip, tight chest, fever... I spent all of yesterday in bed, moaning and hacking up nasty stuff and eating popsicles. I had to call out from work (the second time in two weeks, I can't believe it) because I was still febrile come evening time. Today I'm a bit better, my fever is still hanging on (a nagging 99.2 degrees), but I'm going into work in a few minutes anyway, because I'm afraid they'll kill me if I miss another night.
I feel so bad for Honeybunch when I get sick. I am one of the most whiney, pain-in-the-ass sick people you can imagine. I doubt he got any sleep last night for my tossing, turning, hacking, coughing, sniffling and sweating.
In other news, our beehive parts arrived! I'm hoping for good weather and good health this weekend so we can begin assembling it.
That's a lot of little wooden parts!
Well, I'm off to work... here's hoping that these 12 hours don't set me back in my progress towards wellness.
Tuesday, February 15, 2011
Uh oh...
The weather is supposed to warm up to 65 degrees on Friday. This can mean only one thing. Spring is on the way, you guess? Nope. Time to get back out to the woods to begin training for the mud run this summer? Wrong again. Seed-starting time? Negative.
It means I'm getting sick.
Each time there's a swing in the weather like this, I'm sure to get sick. And today I woke up nauseated, and I'm currently winding down my shift at work with a persistent tickle in my throat and a nagging dry cough. I'm hoping it doesn't evolve into something dreadful, since I have more than 20 hours of work left in the next two days and no time to rest.... and with the nice weather moving in, I'd love to have a date with my Honeybunch running in the woods on Friday. I'll start my herbal regimen and hope for this best when I get home this morning.
Oh yes, and Happy belated Valentine's Day. I woke up to vases of orange gerber daisies and what I think are blue star sea holly. Such a lovely little surprise. We did not celebrate, given that I had to work a 12-hour shift. We'll probably go out to dinner sometime this weekend for a treat, but Valentine's Day isn't a big deal to us. We try to be loving and appreciative of one another on a daily basis... and the fact that the average American spends over $100/year on Valentine's Day merchandise kind of frightens me.
It means I'm getting sick.
Each time there's a swing in the weather like this, I'm sure to get sick. And today I woke up nauseated, and I'm currently winding down my shift at work with a persistent tickle in my throat and a nagging dry cough. I'm hoping it doesn't evolve into something dreadful, since I have more than 20 hours of work left in the next two days and no time to rest.... and with the nice weather moving in, I'd love to have a date with my Honeybunch running in the woods on Friday. I'll start my herbal regimen and hope for this best when I get home this morning.
Oh yes, and Happy belated Valentine's Day. I woke up to vases of orange gerber daisies and what I think are blue star sea holly. Such a lovely little surprise. We did not celebrate, given that I had to work a 12-hour shift. We'll probably go out to dinner sometime this weekend for a treat, but Valentine's Day isn't a big deal to us. We try to be loving and appreciative of one another on a daily basis... and the fact that the average American spends over $100/year on Valentine's Day merchandise kind of frightens me.
Saturday, February 12, 2011
Bees!
I just placed our order with Draper's Apiary for 3 lbs. of Italian honeybees, a marked Italian queen bee, and all the necessary components of a hive and the equipment we need. We're going to have bees this April. It's really happening, isn't it?
Friday, February 11, 2011
Death
I've been fixated on the concept of death lately, and have been unable to shake the sadness associated with that train of thought.
This past week I was pulled from my home cardiac floor to work on the general medical-surgical floor each night. The hospital has been positively packed lately, and since most of the nurses working night shift with me now are relatively new, I'm the only one who could be pulled to another floor. The patients on the med-surg floor tend to be less critical, so even when it's a busy night with four nursing students pulling me in all directions, it's still less tense than the cardiac floor.
There was a man, who was not one of "my patients" but who I was often in the room helping to turn and reposition in bed. He was actively dying, and we were to provide only comfort care. I don't know his diagnosis, or how old he was, or if he had any family. I don't know what he did for a living, if he'd ever served in a war, or if he enjoyed reading mysteries. All I know of him is what I saw over those three nights.
He was unresponsive verbally, his eyes open and staring intently at the ceiling. His breathing consisted of agonal, irregular gasps for air. He looked like a fish out of water. He grimaced with pain as we turned him from side to side every two hours in an effort to prevent his skin from breaking down, despite the slow, steady drip of morphine going in through his IV line. His extremities were swollen and leaking fluid, a sure sign of his cardiovascular system shutting down. His diaper was dry all night, evidence that his kidneys were failing.
Despite all of this, he was fighting the inevitable with everything he had. He had been in this state for four days, hanging on and struggling to keep breathing as his body failed him. Each time I entered his room to assist his nurse with a task, what I really wanted to do was hold his hand and sing quietly to him, tell him to let go, to let himself merge with the ebb and flow. I wanted to tell him not to be afraid. But I couldn't. I couldn't let myself be that vulnerable at my job. So I completed the tasks, gave his hand a gentle squeeze, bathed his sweaty brow, and went on about my business. Days later now, I wonder if he's gone yet. I wonder if telling him not to be afraid would have been hypocritical of me, given my own fear of death.
I suppose it's not death that I fear, neccessarily. More than anything, I'm afraid of losing the people I love, most specifically, my Honeybunch. I fear that these few transient years we have together are all we get... that either there is no afterlife at all, or that in the lives following this one, we'll never find one another again. Will we be sister bees in a hive one time around? Will we be oak trees, growing side by side with our branches reaching out toward one another? I hope so. The idea of returning to an existence without him is unbearable. We've agreed to die on the same day, but obviously we don't exactly have control over whether we can keep that promise.
I'm sure that man had someone he loved. Maybe they moved on before him, but I doubt it. He was clinging to life so desperately that I imagine his love was still quite alive. Maybe he feared the same thing that I do, and felt that the painful hours he was holding onto were worth it, to see his love for another day. I just have to hope that before I find myself in his situation, that I've found more peace with the idea of dying than I have now. I just have to hope that I have the many, many years of life with those I love that I think I will need to find that peace.
So for now, I bury the dying animals, comfort the dying people, and cry while I listen to Iron and Wine.
She says wake up, it's no use pretending
I'll keep stealing, breathing her
Birds are leaving over autumn's ending
One of us will die inside these arms
Eyes wide open
Naked as we came
One will spread our
Ashes round the yard
She says if I leave before you darling
Don't you waste me in the ground
I lay smiling like our sleeping children
One of us will die inside these arms
Eyes wide open
Naked as we came
One will spread our
Ashes round the yard
This past week I was pulled from my home cardiac floor to work on the general medical-surgical floor each night. The hospital has been positively packed lately, and since most of the nurses working night shift with me now are relatively new, I'm the only one who could be pulled to another floor. The patients on the med-surg floor tend to be less critical, so even when it's a busy night with four nursing students pulling me in all directions, it's still less tense than the cardiac floor.
There was a man, who was not one of "my patients" but who I was often in the room helping to turn and reposition in bed. He was actively dying, and we were to provide only comfort care. I don't know his diagnosis, or how old he was, or if he had any family. I don't know what he did for a living, if he'd ever served in a war, or if he enjoyed reading mysteries. All I know of him is what I saw over those three nights.
He was unresponsive verbally, his eyes open and staring intently at the ceiling. His breathing consisted of agonal, irregular gasps for air. He looked like a fish out of water. He grimaced with pain as we turned him from side to side every two hours in an effort to prevent his skin from breaking down, despite the slow, steady drip of morphine going in through his IV line. His extremities were swollen and leaking fluid, a sure sign of his cardiovascular system shutting down. His diaper was dry all night, evidence that his kidneys were failing.
Despite all of this, he was fighting the inevitable with everything he had. He had been in this state for four days, hanging on and struggling to keep breathing as his body failed him. Each time I entered his room to assist his nurse with a task, what I really wanted to do was hold his hand and sing quietly to him, tell him to let go, to let himself merge with the ebb and flow. I wanted to tell him not to be afraid. But I couldn't. I couldn't let myself be that vulnerable at my job. So I completed the tasks, gave his hand a gentle squeeze, bathed his sweaty brow, and went on about my business. Days later now, I wonder if he's gone yet. I wonder if telling him not to be afraid would have been hypocritical of me, given my own fear of death.
I suppose it's not death that I fear, neccessarily. More than anything, I'm afraid of losing the people I love, most specifically, my Honeybunch. I fear that these few transient years we have together are all we get... that either there is no afterlife at all, or that in the lives following this one, we'll never find one another again. Will we be sister bees in a hive one time around? Will we be oak trees, growing side by side with our branches reaching out toward one another? I hope so. The idea of returning to an existence without him is unbearable. We've agreed to die on the same day, but obviously we don't exactly have control over whether we can keep that promise.
I'm sure that man had someone he loved. Maybe they moved on before him, but I doubt it. He was clinging to life so desperately that I imagine his love was still quite alive. Maybe he feared the same thing that I do, and felt that the painful hours he was holding onto were worth it, to see his love for another day. I just have to hope that before I find myself in his situation, that I've found more peace with the idea of dying than I have now. I just have to hope that I have the many, many years of life with those I love that I think I will need to find that peace.
So for now, I bury the dying animals, comfort the dying people, and cry while I listen to Iron and Wine.
She says wake up, it's no use pretending
I'll keep stealing, breathing her
Birds are leaving over autumn's ending
One of us will die inside these arms
Eyes wide open
Naked as we came
One will spread our
Ashes round the yard
She says if I leave before you darling
Don't you waste me in the ground
I lay smiling like our sleeping children
One of us will die inside these arms
Eyes wide open
Naked as we came
One will spread our
Ashes round the yard
Goodbye Popcorn.
We lost another hen yesterday. When I went to see the girls when I got home from work in the morning, there she was, settled down in the corner of the coop, her eyes closed and head bowed. She looked like she had just gone to sleep. I have no idea why she died. She'd been feeling thin to me, but her appetite was good and she'd been as energetic as ever. Honeybunch broke through the frozen ground and we buried her under the fig tree, next to Cerberus and the little Barred Rock, who we lost this past year to an impacted egg and a hawk.
I must be becoming a farmer, because though I felt sadness and regret, I did not cry.
Popcorn was top chicken, and ruled the roost. She had some gender identity issues, and was known to mount her sisters (poor Lady Jane was often missing neck feathers for this reason). But she was friendly, a reliable layer, and always the first to explore when something new came along. I'm going to miss her spunky presence in the chicken yard.
I must be becoming a farmer, because though I felt sadness and regret, I did not cry.
Popcorn was top chicken, and ruled the roost. She had some gender identity issues, and was known to mount her sisters (poor Lady Jane was often missing neck feathers for this reason). But she was friendly, a reliable layer, and always the first to explore when something new came along. I'm going to miss her spunky presence in the chicken yard.
Wednesday, February 09, 2011
Wednesday's Happy Card
Ten things that bring me joy!
1. Sleeping under many covers while flanked by three warm kitties.
2. The rare February day that rises above 40 degrees, teasing me with a taste of Spring.
3. Truly fantastic sushi frmo our favorite restaurant.
4. Gawdy red velvet whoopie pies.
5. Ignoring the fact that said whoopie pies supply me with half of my day's daily calories each.
6. The thought that in about 4 weeks, we'll be settling on our new home and DONE with the paperwork.
7. Outrageously large, perky pregnant bellies that look like giant beach balls.
8. Being able to *almost* pull my hair back into a little ponytail.
9. The arrival of my custom made wedding dress, which is absolutely gorgeous and only needs a few minor alterations for fit.
10. Kindly old ladies who smile and say thank you when you bring them chapstick, even though they're throwing up and feeling lousy.
1. Sleeping under many covers while flanked by three warm kitties.
2. The rare February day that rises above 40 degrees, teasing me with a taste of Spring.
3. Truly fantastic sushi frmo our favorite restaurant.
4. Gawdy red velvet whoopie pies.
5. Ignoring the fact that said whoopie pies supply me with half of my day's daily calories each.
6. The thought that in about 4 weeks, we'll be settling on our new home and DONE with the paperwork.
7. Outrageously large, perky pregnant bellies that look like giant beach balls.
8. Being able to *almost* pull my hair back into a little ponytail.
9. The arrival of my custom made wedding dress, which is absolutely gorgeous and only needs a few minor alterations for fit.
10. Kindly old ladies who smile and say thank you when you bring them chapstick, even though they're throwing up and feeling lousy.
Sunday, February 06, 2011
Black Bean Soup
I'm longing for summer right now. I miss being able to jog out to the garden and grab fresh hot peppers, tomatoes and salad greens for our dinner! Luckily, this soup can be made just as tasty using the pickled hot peppers and homemade salsa in our pantry. Our dear friend Treeman often makes a big batch of this when we come to visit him. It's easy, spicy, wholesome, and delicious with a sprinkling of sharp cheddar and a dollop of sour cream. I like to scoop it up with pieces of homemade bread or tortilla chips.
Black Bean Soup
2 or more jalapeno or other hot peppers, either fresh or pickled (I tend to use three or more, especially if using my pickled peppers, which lose a bit of their hotness in the brine)
splash of whiskey
1 tbsp olive oil
1 quart vegetable broth
1 pint of salsa
2 cans of black beans
Cook the hot peppers in the whiskey and olive oil until softened and the alcohol has evaporated. Add the remaining ingredients, puree to a chunky-smooth texture with an immersion blender, and bring to a boil. Reduce to a simmer and cook down until it reaches a nice creamy consistency, thick enough to mound up on a spoon a bit but not paste-y! Serve hot with cheese and sour cream.
Black Bean Soup
2 or more jalapeno or other hot peppers, either fresh or pickled (I tend to use three or more, especially if using my pickled peppers, which lose a bit of their hotness in the brine)
splash of whiskey
1 tbsp olive oil
1 quart vegetable broth
1 pint of salsa
2 cans of black beans
Cook the hot peppers in the whiskey and olive oil until softened and the alcohol has evaporated. Add the remaining ingredients, puree to a chunky-smooth texture with an immersion blender, and bring to a boil. Reduce to a simmer and cook down until it reaches a nice creamy consistency, thick enough to mound up on a spoon a bit but not paste-y! Serve hot with cheese and sour cream.
Saturday, February 05, 2011
Disturbed sleep
I've had a hard time getting a decent night/day's sleep this whole week, and it's been catching up to me. Yesterday we woke up after about four hours of sleep at 6am to get to the house in time for the inspection at 8am. When we arrived, we found that the septic inspection couldn't happen because of the snow and ice. We also found that the seller's hadn't filled the oil tank, so they ran out of oil after turning the heat on. So, no heating check either. And, because they ran out of oil, pipes in the kitchen froze. No inspection of the kitchen and lower bathroom plumbing. What a pain in the ass. So, we're going to have to get the inspector out there again, at the seller's expense, to finish it up once they have it all up and running again.
Three freezing cold hours later, what could be done of the inspection was finished, and my blood sugar was probably about 40. I was on the verge of panic for some sort of fuel to put in my bloodstream and keep my vital organs running. If I don't eat a balanced meal of simple and complex carbs plus protein every four hours or so, this happens to me. It's worse if I'm exercising, stressed, or cold. I was all of those things yesterday during that inspection. By the time we sat down at the table in the diner, my hands were shaking to the point where I could barely unwrap the straw to drink my orange juice. It's a nasty feeling, but luckily the solution is a simple one, and about ten minutes into my meal I felt my mind starting to clear.
We got home around 12:30, and I was crashing out HARD. I napped for 20 minutes before having to go to the dentist to get my last filling done. The dentist is always a stressful experience for me... but it's gotten more stressful recently, as it seems I am becoming less and less sensitive to lidocaine. I spent the better part of an hour fighting back a sense of panic, yet again. I didn't get home until about 5pm because of errands and delays, laid down for ten minutes and then picked up Honeybunch from work. At 7pm I was crashed out in bed, and stayed there until 3am. A full eight hours of sleep, what a novel idea that is! I woke up, started birdseed bread dough, went food shopping, filled my car tires with air... it's amazing what a good night's sleep can do to a person. I actually feel like I can take on the day now.
Three freezing cold hours later, what could be done of the inspection was finished, and my blood sugar was probably about 40. I was on the verge of panic for some sort of fuel to put in my bloodstream and keep my vital organs running. If I don't eat a balanced meal of simple and complex carbs plus protein every four hours or so, this happens to me. It's worse if I'm exercising, stressed, or cold. I was all of those things yesterday during that inspection. By the time we sat down at the table in the diner, my hands were shaking to the point where I could barely unwrap the straw to drink my orange juice. It's a nasty feeling, but luckily the solution is a simple one, and about ten minutes into my meal I felt my mind starting to clear.
We got home around 12:30, and I was crashing out HARD. I napped for 20 minutes before having to go to the dentist to get my last filling done. The dentist is always a stressful experience for me... but it's gotten more stressful recently, as it seems I am becoming less and less sensitive to lidocaine. I spent the better part of an hour fighting back a sense of panic, yet again. I didn't get home until about 5pm because of errands and delays, laid down for ten minutes and then picked up Honeybunch from work. At 7pm I was crashed out in bed, and stayed there until 3am. A full eight hours of sleep, what a novel idea that is! I woke up, started birdseed bread dough, went food shopping, filled my car tires with air... it's amazing what a good night's sleep can do to a person. I actually feel like I can take on the day now.
Wednesday, February 02, 2011
A skating rink.
While I worked last night, the skies opened up again and dumped a thick layer of ice over our area. When I did the old-lady-shuffle-waddle across the icy parking lot to my car this morning, I found it entirely encased in ice, doors frozen shut. It took about 20 minutes of chipping away at it with my little ice scraper before I could safely pull out of my parking space. Have you ever tried to scrape ice off of your windshield while standing on a sheet of ice and hanging on to an ice-covered car door handle for balance? I'm certain that anyone observing my struggle was greatly impressed by the grace and dexterity with which I moved... feet sliding in opposite directions into a wide straddle, ice chips flying up and hitting me in the face as I hack away at the windows...
I pulled my back, got a massive headache, crawled home on the slick roads, parked on the street, slid half a block down the sidewalks, slid (again, gracefully, like an Olympic skier, I'm sure) down the steep snow-and-ice-covered gravel driveway, and soon after collapsed into bed with a heat pad on my back and a Naproxen dissolving in my stomach. A few hours later I woke up, still in pain, and called out of work for tonight. Yes, I feel crappy about doing that, but simply walking to the bathroom is painful, so I don't know how I'd manage working a 12-hour shift. It ain't happening.
At 3:30pm I wake up to a phone call from my mom. Her car died at work this morning (!), she got a ride home from a coworker but then slipped on the ice (gracefully! That's where I get it from!) in the driveway and fell on her face. She now has an egg on her head, a few scrapes and a bump on the chin. I told her take Naproxen (no, they did not sponsor this blog post, the stuff just really works), ice it for 20 minutes and call me. She did, and reports that it's not getting worse, and she doesn't have any signs of a concussion, so we're gonna hold off on a trip to the ER unless that changes. Oi vey.
The lesson here? Buy a decent pair of winter boots, keep Naproxen on hand at all times, and call to check in on your older friends and loved ones to make sure they're faring okay in this dangerous icy weather.
And that damned groundhog had better be telling the truth when he says we're going to have an early Spring.
I pulled my back, got a massive headache, crawled home on the slick roads, parked on the street, slid half a block down the sidewalks, slid (again, gracefully, like an Olympic skier, I'm sure) down the steep snow-and-ice-covered gravel driveway, and soon after collapsed into bed with a heat pad on my back and a Naproxen dissolving in my stomach. A few hours later I woke up, still in pain, and called out of work for tonight. Yes, I feel crappy about doing that, but simply walking to the bathroom is painful, so I don't know how I'd manage working a 12-hour shift. It ain't happening.
At 3:30pm I wake up to a phone call from my mom. Her car died at work this morning (!), she got a ride home from a coworker but then slipped on the ice (gracefully! That's where I get it from!) in the driveway and fell on her face. She now has an egg on her head, a few scrapes and a bump on the chin. I told her take Naproxen (no, they did not sponsor this blog post, the stuff just really works), ice it for 20 minutes and call me. She did, and reports that it's not getting worse, and she doesn't have any signs of a concussion, so we're gonna hold off on a trip to the ER unless that changes. Oi vey.
The lesson here? Buy a decent pair of winter boots, keep Naproxen on hand at all times, and call to check in on your older friends and loved ones to make sure they're faring okay in this dangerous icy weather.
And that damned groundhog had better be telling the truth when he says we're going to have an early Spring.
Tuesday, February 01, 2011
Go Away.
Seriously, ANOTHER winter storm?
Go away, snow/ice/sleet/freezing rain! I've had enough of your shenanigans for one season! You are not welcome here, so go away, and leave us in peace (NOT in pieces on the side of the road)!
Go away, snow/ice/sleet/freezing rain! I've had enough of your shenanigans for one season! You are not welcome here, so go away, and leave us in peace (NOT in pieces on the side of the road)!
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