When I first met her, I thought, "I hope I look like her at that age".
She was in her eighties, sitting up in her bed, peering at me with bright grey eyes.
She wore a barette in her stylishly cut chin length hair.
She smiled gently, her unlined hands folded neatly in her lap.
She'd come in with a "change in mental status". When I received report that night, I laughed out loud as the story unfolded about her trying to hit her husband with a cane at their assisted living facility. As I looked at the pleasant, pretty older lady sitting before me, I wondered to myself whether perhaps he deserved it.
Upon examination, I found her to be confused as to where she was, but largely appropriate in her answers to my questions. She was pleasant, with an easy laugh and a sharp wit. She was startled by my cold hands as I felt for her pulse and kindly rubbed my hands in hers to "warm them up". An hour later, she was asleep, and I saw the faintest of smiles play on her lips as she dreamt.
Six hours later, a disheveled, half-dressed woman emerged from her room, blood dripping from her arm, carrying her bed alarm, crying out for her husband. I rushed over to her, donning gloves as I ran, and pulled her gown around her shoulders as I clamped a hand over the bloody mess where she had torn through her IV tubing. She looked at my like I'd killed her cat. "Get me a telephone, I will not be held prisoner here!" she spat at me. After 15 minutes of back-and-forth, I managed to calm her down enough to pull out her mutilated IV and tape some gauze over the site.
I placed a call to her husband as she demanded she speak with him. She made him tell her his mother's name, as she didn't believe it was actually him on the phone. Then, she stood at the nurse's station, staring at the elevators down the hall, refusing to return to her room until her husband arrived. I waited with her, all other tasks delegated to coworkers, as she would let no one else near her. She spoke with me, about the weather, and about the upcoming holiday picnic planned at their retirement community... but she was guarded, and eyed me with suspicion as I asked questions as innocent as, "what dish are you planning to prepare?"
When her husband arrived, he walked her back into her room, and I sat with them for a good while. She sat on the bed, with her arms crossed, bright grey eyes shooting daggers at her husband of sixty-odd years whenever he divulged a bit of information to me. He explained to me that over the past year she'd only had minor forgetfulness, such as putting water on the stove for coffee, then forgetting to make the coffee at all. "Nothing like this, not in all the years we've been married," he said, the concern and love he felt for her obvious in his voice.
Over the next week, we both watched this bright, beautiful woman die.
In a matter of a day, she was moaning like an injured animal. Her eyes were dull, and looked inward... seeing nothing of the world around her. She was edematous, the extra fluid leaking from her skin and soaking the bedding. Her hair was tangled, the barrette long gone now. A nurse's aide had to sit with her 24 hours/day to keep her from pulling at her IV, her heart monitor, her gown. No amount of morphine, Ativan, Haldol, or hydromorphone assuaged the pain, anxiety, and fear. When the drugs failed, I put the business of the night out of my mind and went back to basics. I combed her hair. I turned off the television and placed my hands on her back, focusing all of the soothing, healing energy I could find within myself, letting it flow into her.
Her breathing relaxed. Her moaning ceased. She slept, perhaps for 10 minutes. Then, a noise. Somewhere on the unit, someone dropped something. And so the moaning and writhing resumed. I sighed, looked at the clock, and knew that I had a time critical cardiac drug to give to another person who needed me.
I left the room, and when I left the hospital that day, I thought about her. I thought about her husband, who'd known and loved her for over 60 years, and who woke up a week ago to find that his lover and best friend was a different person. I thought about the mystery of it... all of her tests were normal, no signs of a stroke or heart attack... but her mind had deteriorated over a matter of days, her body simply giving out as her kidneys, liver and heart failed suddenly and quickly.
This woman was elegant. She was tall, and self-posessed. She'd lived a life that I'm sure was full of stories, full of humor and adventure. I had the honor of seeing a glimpse of that, the very first night we'd met. I learned the next week that ultimately, her family decided to make her a hospice patient, and she was sent to another unit of the hospital. I silently prayed, to no one in particular, that she would die soon, that the cruel indignity of her descent would end quickly. I prayed that the nurses on that floor would keep her hair tidy, and wash her neatly manicured hands.
She haunts me still, and my eyes sting each time I think of her calling out for her husband on her last lucid night of life.
Thursday, July 29, 2010
Sunday, July 25, 2010
Summertime thunder
It's storming outside right now, which makes me very happy for several reasons. Thunderstorms are exciting, invigorating, and give me an excuse to sit still for a few moments to watch the show. They mean that I don't have to be eaten alive by mosquitos this evening while watering the tomatoes and peppers. Plus, the rain makes the chickens look soggy, pathetic and comical (although they don't seem to mind too much).
While camping out in North Carolina last weekend, it was like living in the rainforest. Every day the weather shifted multiple times between brilliant hot sunshine and violent torrential rainstorms with thunder that echoed and bounced off of the mountains in a deafening roar. It was gorgeous, despite the car getting stuck in the mud and the tent taking three days to dry out once we got home. It was during one of those storms that Honeybunch asked me to marry him and I (of course) said yes.
We're both so excited. Everyone in our lives is thrilled. And we're determined to throw an awesome party while keeping it simple and down to earth. There will be circus arts at our wedding, but the wedding itself will NOT be a circus! This is going to be easy, and fun... much the way our blessed relationship has been all along. I am really enjoying calling him my "fiancé", especially with a soupy French accent. And, because everyone asks, no, there is no ring, and that's the way we like it. My humble opinion is that diamonds are largely unethical and overrated, and I am a simple, practical girl. My honeybunch knows me. We're planning on exchanging simple white gold bands at the ceremony, and getting tattooed wedding bands as well (I do NOT wear rings to work).
On the homefront, tomatoes are out in full force. The Black Sea Man tomatoes have been amazing... tasty, prolific, and good keepers for a few days off the vine. The Nebraska Weddings have been less prolific and suffering more from the multiple heat waves, though we plucked a couple of them this week. The yellow pear tomatoes are putting out little golden jewels that fill my apron on a nearly daily basis, and we're having to get creative about how we use them... in omelettes, pasta salads, dressed with oil, vinegar, basil and mozzarella... We're canning today, mostly tomatoes from the farm down the road from us. Our own tomatoes get eaten up fresh pretty darn quickly. I've never canned tomatoes before, so it's a bit of a learning process... but I have to say that I enjoy the satisfaction of slipping the skin off of the blanched tomato in one smooth motion.
The sweet and hot peppers are growing, we're harvested a few hot but can't remember which types we planted where. The Salad Blue potato plants are dying off, so digging em up and seeing what kind of harvest we've gotten is on the To-Do list once the rain passes. I'm not entirely convinced that we'll have many spuds under those layers of straw... it was an experiment with perhaps too many variables... but we'll see.
We've discovered that one of the Rhode Island Red "hens" is actually a rooster. I'd suspected this for weeks, as they've matured and this particular bird got very, very big and developed a large, upright comb and shiny green tail feathers. Then, "she" began trying to mount "her" sisters. That was a red flag. And this morning, Good Neighbor heard "her" distinctly attempt to crow twice. Oi vey. We are not permitted to have roosters in our area. Technically, this one belongs to Good Neighbor... so (though I forget it sometimes) it's not up to me what fate he meets. I'm hoping Good Neighbor will let us find him another home... he's beautiful, and not aggressive towards us at all... but there's a possibility that there may need to be a lesson on kind and humane chicken slaughtering. Again, we'll see.
We've also adopted (yet another) kitten. His name is Samosa, he's orange and white, and sweet as pie. This kitten wants to do nothing but cuddle. As I type he's pulling at my hands with his paws, begging him to pet him. I'm in love with him. He came to the farmer's market with us yesterday, and everyone there fell in love with him too. He's a real charmer.
At work, everything is chaos. Our new computerized charting system just went live, and it's all a mess. We're still understaffed. Such is life.
It's a rainy Sunday afternoon, so I'm going to spend some time reading before we heat up the kitchen for canning.
While camping out in North Carolina last weekend, it was like living in the rainforest. Every day the weather shifted multiple times between brilliant hot sunshine and violent torrential rainstorms with thunder that echoed and bounced off of the mountains in a deafening roar. It was gorgeous, despite the car getting stuck in the mud and the tent taking three days to dry out once we got home. It was during one of those storms that Honeybunch asked me to marry him and I (of course) said yes.
We're both so excited. Everyone in our lives is thrilled. And we're determined to throw an awesome party while keeping it simple and down to earth. There will be circus arts at our wedding, but the wedding itself will NOT be a circus! This is going to be easy, and fun... much the way our blessed relationship has been all along. I am really enjoying calling him my "fiancé", especially with a soupy French accent. And, because everyone asks, no, there is no ring, and that's the way we like it. My humble opinion is that diamonds are largely unethical and overrated, and I am a simple, practical girl. My honeybunch knows me. We're planning on exchanging simple white gold bands at the ceremony, and getting tattooed wedding bands as well (I do NOT wear rings to work).
On the homefront, tomatoes are out in full force. The Black Sea Man tomatoes have been amazing... tasty, prolific, and good keepers for a few days off the vine. The Nebraska Weddings have been less prolific and suffering more from the multiple heat waves, though we plucked a couple of them this week. The yellow pear tomatoes are putting out little golden jewels that fill my apron on a nearly daily basis, and we're having to get creative about how we use them... in omelettes, pasta salads, dressed with oil, vinegar, basil and mozzarella... We're canning today, mostly tomatoes from the farm down the road from us. Our own tomatoes get eaten up fresh pretty darn quickly. I've never canned tomatoes before, so it's a bit of a learning process... but I have to say that I enjoy the satisfaction of slipping the skin off of the blanched tomato in one smooth motion.
The sweet and hot peppers are growing, we're harvested a few hot but can't remember which types we planted where. The Salad Blue potato plants are dying off, so digging em up and seeing what kind of harvest we've gotten is on the To-Do list once the rain passes. I'm not entirely convinced that we'll have many spuds under those layers of straw... it was an experiment with perhaps too many variables... but we'll see.
We've discovered that one of the Rhode Island Red "hens" is actually a rooster. I'd suspected this for weeks, as they've matured and this particular bird got very, very big and developed a large, upright comb and shiny green tail feathers. Then, "she" began trying to mount "her" sisters. That was a red flag. And this morning, Good Neighbor heard "her" distinctly attempt to crow twice. Oi vey. We are not permitted to have roosters in our area. Technically, this one belongs to Good Neighbor... so (though I forget it sometimes) it's not up to me what fate he meets. I'm hoping Good Neighbor will let us find him another home... he's beautiful, and not aggressive towards us at all... but there's a possibility that there may need to be a lesson on kind and humane chicken slaughtering. Again, we'll see.
We've also adopted (yet another) kitten. His name is Samosa, he's orange and white, and sweet as pie. This kitten wants to do nothing but cuddle. As I type he's pulling at my hands with his paws, begging him to pet him. I'm in love with him. He came to the farmer's market with us yesterday, and everyone there fell in love with him too. He's a real charmer.
At work, everything is chaos. Our new computerized charting system just went live, and it's all a mess. We're still understaffed. Such is life.
It's a rainy Sunday afternoon, so I'm going to spend some time reading before we heat up the kitchen for canning.
Tuesday, July 20, 2010
Sunday, July 11, 2010
Fruit panic.
It was with a sense of panic that I suddenly realized this past week that the cherries and raspberries will soon be gone from the fields. We hadn't put anything by with these fruits, and the idea of going through all of fall, winter and spring without the taste of cherries or raspberries was too terrible to bear. Thus it was that this past Saturday morning, we ventured out to a local orchard. In the pouring rain. Yes, we finally got some rain. And we were wet, and cold, and the waxed cardboard tray we were given to put the berries in melted in the rain, and because I was with my Honeybunch it was fun, and we giggled and picked and wondered how crazy the kids working in the market thought we were.
It was slim picking in the raspberry brambles, but we picked about 2.5 quarts, which have since either been frozen or turned into sauce for our french toast breakfast this morning. We bought cherries from them as well. Picking our own wasn't an option, but they still had some for sale in the market. I have frozen half of the sweet and dehydrated the other half. The sour cherries are cooking down into preserves on the stove as we speak. I decided to go for the Martha Stewart pectin-free preserves recipe found here http://www.marthastewart.com/recipe/sour-cherry-preserves , which was silly of me given that it's 90-something degrees outside and I'm in here cooking cherries and sugar at 220 degrees for 40 minutes. However, it used less sugar than the other jam recipes I found online, and I did not feel like making a special trip to the grocery store just to pick up a box of pectin. The preserves are deep, deep red and, as I'm finding when I taste the foam I'm skimming off the top, delicious.
This weekend, I dehydrated/canned/froze a full bushel of corn, 2.5 quarts of raspberries, 12 quarts of sweet cherries and 6 quarts of sour cherries. It feels good to be able to say that. Make hay while the sun shines, right?
It was slim picking in the raspberry brambles, but we picked about 2.5 quarts, which have since either been frozen or turned into sauce for our french toast breakfast this morning. We bought cherries from them as well. Picking our own wasn't an option, but they still had some for sale in the market. I have frozen half of the sweet and dehydrated the other half. The sour cherries are cooking down into preserves on the stove as we speak. I decided to go for the Martha Stewart pectin-free preserves recipe found here http://www.marthastewart.com/recipe/sour-cherry-preserves , which was silly of me given that it's 90-something degrees outside and I'm in here cooking cherries and sugar at 220 degrees for 40 minutes. However, it used less sugar than the other jam recipes I found online, and I did not feel like making a special trip to the grocery store just to pick up a box of pectin. The preserves are deep, deep red and, as I'm finding when I taste the foam I'm skimming off the top, delicious.
This weekend, I dehydrated/canned/froze a full bushel of corn, 2.5 quarts of raspberries, 12 quarts of sweet cherries and 6 quarts of sour cherries. It feels good to be able to say that. Make hay while the sun shines, right?
Thursday, July 08, 2010
Cuckoo for Cocoa Puffs.
Lately at work, we've had a major increase in the number of patients coming to our floor with psych, drug and alcohol issues. I assume this has something to do with the fact that many other local hospitals who previously had units devoted to "dual diagnosis" patients (those with both acute psychiatric and medical issues to attend to) have shut down said units.
This is very, very unfortunate.
Our community hospital does not have the resources to provide the kind of care these patients need... most notably, we do not have the staff. Many nights in the past several weeks we nurses have had to work the floor without the assistance of our nursing aides (who are precious and wonderful and necessary for our sanity) because they've been pulled to sit in on "1:1"s. When a patient is out of control, suicidal, or demented and trying to climb out of bed/pull out tubes/pee on their roommate we initiate 1:1 observation. This means that a nursing aide, or sometimes a nurse, should no aides be available, stays within arms reach of that patient 24 hours/day, and records what they are acting like every fifteen minutes. On Monday night, we had SIX 1:1s. We don't have six nurses aides in the whole hospital on night shift under normal circumstances. A nursing aide from evenings worked a 16 hour shift overnight to help manage this. It's absurd.
As a result, I'm learning to manage 7+ acutely ill patients without the assistance of an aide. Usually at least one or two of them has some psych issues going on. I've had several patients in that past month or so going through alcohol withdrawal, more than one pain medication addict, a woman in her 70s whose drunk daughter beat the hell out of her and attempted to drown her in the bathtub, and just about the saddest case of rapidly advancing dementia I've ever seen.
In light of this, when a nearby drug and alcohol/psych rehab hospital called me up and requested an interview, I obliged and have since accepted a position. I'll be working 4 shifts/month, and start next week. It's a nice place, 100% voluntary (which makes a big difference... everyone there is detoxing because they want to be, not because of a court order). I figure that the experience will interesting and will help diversify my young nursing resume. If I hate it, it's not a job I have to keep to survive. If I love it, all the better for my nursing career. I'm hoping to develop finer skills dealing with patients in pscyhiatric crises, and to become more familiar with the methods and drugs used to help with the detox process.
Part of me feels like I am absolutely insane for taking on a new challenge at this point in my life... but another, louder part of me thinks, if not now, then when? There's never going to be a point in my life where I'm not busy, not overwhelmed, not sleep deprived and behind on my to-do list. I may as well accept that and embrace the opportunities for growth presented to me.
Speaking of growth, do a raindance for me. This heat and dryness has to break soon.
This is very, very unfortunate.
Our community hospital does not have the resources to provide the kind of care these patients need... most notably, we do not have the staff. Many nights in the past several weeks we nurses have had to work the floor without the assistance of our nursing aides (who are precious and wonderful and necessary for our sanity) because they've been pulled to sit in on "1:1"s. When a patient is out of control, suicidal, or demented and trying to climb out of bed/pull out tubes/pee on their roommate we initiate 1:1 observation. This means that a nursing aide, or sometimes a nurse, should no aides be available, stays within arms reach of that patient 24 hours/day, and records what they are acting like every fifteen minutes. On Monday night, we had SIX 1:1s. We don't have six nurses aides in the whole hospital on night shift under normal circumstances. A nursing aide from evenings worked a 16 hour shift overnight to help manage this. It's absurd.
As a result, I'm learning to manage 7+ acutely ill patients without the assistance of an aide. Usually at least one or two of them has some psych issues going on. I've had several patients in that past month or so going through alcohol withdrawal, more than one pain medication addict, a woman in her 70s whose drunk daughter beat the hell out of her and attempted to drown her in the bathtub, and just about the saddest case of rapidly advancing dementia I've ever seen.
In light of this, when a nearby drug and alcohol/psych rehab hospital called me up and requested an interview, I obliged and have since accepted a position. I'll be working 4 shifts/month, and start next week. It's a nice place, 100% voluntary (which makes a big difference... everyone there is detoxing because they want to be, not because of a court order). I figure that the experience will interesting and will help diversify my young nursing resume. If I hate it, it's not a job I have to keep to survive. If I love it, all the better for my nursing career. I'm hoping to develop finer skills dealing with patients in pscyhiatric crises, and to become more familiar with the methods and drugs used to help with the detox process.
Part of me feels like I am absolutely insane for taking on a new challenge at this point in my life... but another, louder part of me thinks, if not now, then when? There's never going to be a point in my life where I'm not busy, not overwhelmed, not sleep deprived and behind on my to-do list. I may as well accept that and embrace the opportunities for growth presented to me.
Speaking of growth, do a raindance for me. This heat and dryness has to break soon.
Wednesday, July 07, 2010
Happy Independence Day
This year I celebrated my independence in the same way I have for the past five years. I camped out on beautiful, unspoiled land... danced to pulsing drums in the mountains... played with fire... walked a labyrinth and gazed upon the Milky Way... and of course, there were fireworks.
We made new friends.
Well, to be quite honest, this fellar wasn't too happy to meet us. Not even after we tried to buy his love with cherries.
This moth, however, was quite friendly!
He wiggled his fuzzy little bonkers at us for several minutes before flitting off into the golden sunlit leaves of the forest.
Once we returned home, rejuvenated from our trip, we attended to the animals and the garden. They seemed glad for us to be home, and the chickens greeted us warming by pecking at our toes. The cats pretended they'd been starving over the weekend. The skunk tried to hide the fact that there was still nuts and dried fruit in her food bowl, and pretended to also be dying of hunger. We were not fooled, but gave them treats and cuddles all the same.
It seems that we arrived home just in time... a heat wave has hit our area, and my poor blossom-end-rot suffering tomatoes require watering twice/day to keep them from shriveling up!! The Black Sea Man tomatoes are producing very well and seem to be quite hardy to the dry weather... no black spots on the bottoms of these beauties...
However, the Nebraska Wedding Tomatoes can't seem to get beyond the size of a golf ball without developing a nasty leathery welt on their blossom ends. It's frustrating to no end... I've worked powdered milk into the soil, I'm watering deeply, I mulched with leaf compost... what else can I do?
It's wild raspberry season, and as you can see above we took about ten minutes last night to grab some in the dark on our walk in the woods. We really need a few hours and broad daylight to bring in a big haul like last year, but the 100 degree weather has deterred us from attempting that this week. Hopefully the bushes will still be producing after this heat passes and we can once again journey outside while the big bright yellow thing hangs in the sky.
Work has been horrible lately, which makes me not even want to write about it. All y'all need to know is that we had only one bed vacant on our floor Monday night. Not fun.
Lastly, a recipe. This one has been a family favorite for generations. My grandmother said that it came from the Depression era, when families may have had weeks in which there was only one or two food items available, and you had to make a meal of it. I think it is one of the most delicious foods on the planet, even though it looks more like slop than anything else.
Creamed Tomatoes
Tomatoes
Flour
Butter (traditionally, bacon fat is used, but not for us pescatarians)
Milk
Salt and pepper
Slice fresh tomatoes and dredge them in flour. Fry in butter until browned on both sides. Mash 'em up and set aside. Add some flour to the excess oil in the pan and cook to make a rue. Return the tomatoes to pan, add milk until creamy and smooth but not soupy. Add salt and pepper to taste. Serve with slices of hearty bread, using the bread to scoop up the sloppy delicious tomatoey mess. This meal is the absolute taste of summer when served with fresh corn on the cob.
Saturday, June 26, 2010
My fever is broken!!
Hurrah! Hurray! Weee!!
I'm still not feeling 100%, but I feel a heck of alot better than I did 4.6 degree ago!
This means that today I got out into the garden (in fact, out into the world at ALL) for the first time since Wednesday morning. And, I discovered some of our lovely tomatoes were showing signs of blossom-end rot. Le sigh. Apparently I haven't been watering enough... or maybe there isn't enough calcium in the soil... either way, I sprinkled a generous amount of powdered milk at the base of each and will henceforth be watering religiously. Only a few of the fruit needed to be tossed to the chickens, so hopefully I caught it early enough to prevent a big loss.
I also discovered several zucchini that should have been picked days ago... one was the size of my forearm... so the poor dears are relegated to baking purposes only, as the flavor and texture aren't quite right for eating on their own at that size. They yielded 9 cups of shredded zucchini. Yipes. Looks like I'll be getting a head start on our freezer supply of zucchini bread. I'm baking my way through the massive bowl of batter, but have only three loaf pans to work with, so it's slow going over here. I'm going to be up late tonight. I am reminded of a part of "Animal, Vegetable, Miracle" by Barbara Kingsolver in which she describes the desperate attempts gardeners make to rid themselves of their excess of zucchini.... and to protect themselves from being "gifted" with the same. And it's only the end of June....
Zucchini Bread
2 eggs
1.5 c sugar
0.5 c honey
1 c vegetable oil
2 c grated raw zucchini
3 tsp vanilla
1 c whole wheat flour
2 c all purpose flour
1 tsp kosher salt
1 tsp baking soda
1/4 tsp baking powder
3 tsp ground cinnamon
1 c sunflower seeds (or chopped walnuts/filberts, whatever you prefer)
Beat the eggs until light and foamy. Add the zucchini, sugar, oil, and vanilla and mix well. Combine flour salt, soda, power and cinnamon in a separate bowl, mix well, then add to wet ingredients. Stir until well blended, add seeds/nuts, and pour into two greased loaf pans. Bake at 350 degrees for about an hour.
Alternately, add chocolate chips and bake in muffin pans... delicious and sinful.
These loaves keep well at room temperature, and freeze beautifully too!
I'm still not feeling 100%, but I feel a heck of alot better than I did 4.6 degree ago!
This means that today I got out into the garden (in fact, out into the world at ALL) for the first time since Wednesday morning. And, I discovered some of our lovely tomatoes were showing signs of blossom-end rot. Le sigh. Apparently I haven't been watering enough... or maybe there isn't enough calcium in the soil... either way, I sprinkled a generous amount of powdered milk at the base of each and will henceforth be watering religiously. Only a few of the fruit needed to be tossed to the chickens, so hopefully I caught it early enough to prevent a big loss.
I also discovered several zucchini that should have been picked days ago... one was the size of my forearm... so the poor dears are relegated to baking purposes only, as the flavor and texture aren't quite right for eating on their own at that size. They yielded 9 cups of shredded zucchini. Yipes. Looks like I'll be getting a head start on our freezer supply of zucchini bread. I'm baking my way through the massive bowl of batter, but have only three loaf pans to work with, so it's slow going over here. I'm going to be up late tonight. I am reminded of a part of "Animal, Vegetable, Miracle" by Barbara Kingsolver in which she describes the desperate attempts gardeners make to rid themselves of their excess of zucchini.... and to protect themselves from being "gifted" with the same. And it's only the end of June....
Zucchini Bread
2 eggs
1.5 c sugar
0.5 c honey
1 c vegetable oil
2 c grated raw zucchini
3 tsp vanilla
1 c whole wheat flour
2 c all purpose flour
1 tsp kosher salt
1 tsp baking soda
1/4 tsp baking powder
3 tsp ground cinnamon
1 c sunflower seeds (or chopped walnuts/filberts, whatever you prefer)
Beat the eggs until light and foamy. Add the zucchini, sugar, oil, and vanilla and mix well. Combine flour salt, soda, power and cinnamon in a separate bowl, mix well, then add to wet ingredients. Stir until well blended, add seeds/nuts, and pour into two greased loaf pans. Bake at 350 degrees for about an hour.
Alternately, add chocolate chips and bake in muffin pans... delicious and sinful.
These loaves keep well at room temperature, and freeze beautifully too!
Thursday, June 24, 2010
...Again??
...I'm sick. Feels like the flu. We'll know soon enough, if it persists beyond today, I call it the flu, and I call out of work tonight.
Had a horrible night at work last night. Continuous bladder irrigation, blood transfusions, stinky colostomies, combative, demented patients screaming their heads off and throwing punches each time I tried to go near enough to find out what was the matter. All with a fever, body aches, nausea, and a sore throat that won't quit.
Time to curl up under the covers and try to heal.
Had a horrible night at work last night. Continuous bladder irrigation, blood transfusions, stinky colostomies, combative, demented patients screaming their heads off and throwing punches each time I tried to go near enough to find out what was the matter. All with a fever, body aches, nausea, and a sore throat that won't quit.
Time to curl up under the covers and try to heal.
Wednesday, June 16, 2010
Sweet corn pancakes, mud and zucchini.
Well, Honeybunch and I completed the 10k adventure race "mud run" this past weekend. What a challenge! 6.3 miles of running, climbing, swimming, mucking, jumping, sliding, and belly-crawling through mud. We were literally up to our ears in mud! I really enjoyed the obstacles (think bootcamp on a rainy day... cargo nets, hurdles, walking across a ravine on ropes), and the pure ridiculousness of being so incredibly filthy. We got hosed down by a fire truck after completing the race, and it still took three cycles through the washing machine to get our clothes (mostly) clean.
A local farm has already begun harvesting sweet corn and blueberries, which is positively thrilling me. This past weekend I made sweet corn pancakes with homemade raw butter (which turned out so neon yellow I could hardly believe it). It tasted like heaven. The recipe I use is adapted from one given to me by dear TreeMan. His mother used to make them in batches for 60+ people at a time!! We've divided the recipe to serve about 10 people, and you can halve it again if you want but I find that these are best when shared with neighbors and friends. I fyou want pure, straight-up buttermilk pancakes, the original recipe called for all white flour and no spices/vanilla. I personally can't resist fuddling with it to complement whatever goodies I'm adding (corn, blueberries, raspberries, chocolate chips...). I've added other spices and whole grain flours with great success, so feel free to experiment so long as you keep the proportions in tact.
Sweet Corn Pancakes
Mix in batches to feed 10 people at a time as listed below.
4 ½ c. flour (I usually use 2 c. whole wheat flour and 1/2 c. finely ground corn meal here)
1/4 c. sugar
2 tbsp + 2 tsp. baking powder
2 tsp. soda
2 tsp. salt
1 tsp cinnamon
1/2 tsp cardamom
2 tsp vanilla extract
4 eggs
½ c. oil
6 c. buttermilk*
1 c. fresh or frozen sweet corn kernels (or other goodies).
Sift dry ingredients together. Beat eggs in a separate bowl. Stir in oil and buttermilk and beat together.
Add to dry ingredients, stirring only until dry ingredients are completely moistened. Fold in corn. DO NOT OVER BEAT!
Brush hot griddle with vegetable oil and fry, turning once. My rule of thumb is to turn my pancakes when there are at least 5 bubbles forming in the center of the cake.
Serve with fresh butter and warmed maple syrup. These keep well in the fridge for several days and can be gently reheated in the oven with great success.
* Add a tablespoon of vinegar to a cup of milk and let it stand for five minutes and you have made buttermilk.
Our garden is providing us with snow and snap peas, green beans, lettuces, carrots and zucchini now. A few little hot peppers the size of my little finger sprung up overnight where I swear there had just been flowers yesterday. Despite having cages as support, I've had to tie up the branches of our tomato plants to keep them from breaking with the weight of the fruit growing on them. They're positively loaded, and some of the fruit are already as big as my fist. Next year I may invest in some Texas Tomato cages like these http://tomatocage.com/, as my tomato plants are almost taller than I am and stretching far above the funnel-shaped wire cages I used to support them.
A local farm has already begun harvesting sweet corn and blueberries, which is positively thrilling me. This past weekend I made sweet corn pancakes with homemade raw butter (which turned out so neon yellow I could hardly believe it). It tasted like heaven. The recipe I use is adapted from one given to me by dear TreeMan. His mother used to make them in batches for 60+ people at a time!! We've divided the recipe to serve about 10 people, and you can halve it again if you want but I find that these are best when shared with neighbors and friends. I fyou want pure, straight-up buttermilk pancakes, the original recipe called for all white flour and no spices/vanilla. I personally can't resist fuddling with it to complement whatever goodies I'm adding (corn, blueberries, raspberries, chocolate chips...). I've added other spices and whole grain flours with great success, so feel free to experiment so long as you keep the proportions in tact.
Sweet Corn Pancakes
Mix in batches to feed 10 people at a time as listed below.
4 ½ c. flour (I usually use 2 c. whole wheat flour and 1/2 c. finely ground corn meal here)
1/4 c. sugar
2 tbsp + 2 tsp. baking powder
2 tsp. soda
2 tsp. salt
1 tsp cinnamon
1/2 tsp cardamom
2 tsp vanilla extract
4 eggs
½ c. oil
6 c. buttermilk*
1 c. fresh or frozen sweet corn kernels (or other goodies).
Sift dry ingredients together. Beat eggs in a separate bowl. Stir in oil and buttermilk and beat together.
Add to dry ingredients, stirring only until dry ingredients are completely moistened. Fold in corn. DO NOT OVER BEAT!
Brush hot griddle with vegetable oil and fry, turning once. My rule of thumb is to turn my pancakes when there are at least 5 bubbles forming in the center of the cake.
Serve with fresh butter and warmed maple syrup. These keep well in the fridge for several days and can be gently reheated in the oven with great success.
* Add a tablespoon of vinegar to a cup of milk and let it stand for five minutes and you have made buttermilk.
The chickens haven't laid eggs for the past two days. I'm wondering what the heck is going on with them... they don't appear to be molting, they're acting normal and healthy... just no eggs. I've searched the yard to see if they had a hidden nest somewhere but there's nothing. Very curious. I suppose they're lucky we're vegetarian... but if they keep this up I might make an exception!!
Not really. I love those birds. I'd keep chickens even if they didn't lay eggs, just for their antics and snuggles.
Oh, Popcorn. You act so tough in the yard but you're really just a big ol' softie!!
Thursday, June 10, 2010
Bringin work home with me.
I found it rather surreal this morning when I came home from working on a cardiac floor all night and awakened my Honeybunch to have him sit up and bed and tell me that his "heart feels weird".
He was having palpitations, and as I pressed my ear to his chest I heard his heart beating irregularly and rapidly. When it did not pass after a couple minutes, I said that I thought we should go to the ER. He agreed, and went to take an aspirin (he has Factor V Leiden, which makes him more at risk to develop blood clots). As he bent to drink from the faucet, the palpitations vanished, and upon listening to his heart I found it pulsing out its usual slow, steady drumbeat. At first I was relieved, but the suddenness with which the rapid irregular nature of the rhythm went away made it even more weird. The concerns lingered and we went to the ER to have him checked out.
The telemetry monitor wanted to make him look like a liar, and he sat in the cot for four hours with a perfect sinus waveform bouncing across the screen.
It was really, really strange to be on both sides of the situation in one morning.
I'm a worry-wort and I know it. I'm that family member who all nurses wish didn't exist... works in healthcare, watching every move you make, asking questions, suggesting theories, anxiously glued to the bedside. I was irritated that no one else seemed concerned about the Factor V Leiden history in combination with symptoms that sounded VERY much to me like paroxysmal atrial fibrillation. Hello thrombus??
Finally, doc comes back with news. Blood work is fine, chest x-ray is fine, D-Dimer (a blood test used to screen for clots) is within normal limits. Follow up with your PCP and avoid caffeine, they say.
Relieved, but still unsettled. Wishing I had a homemade EKG machine at the ready for if/when it happens again. Honeybunch thinks that he can make one pretty easily, which I find hilariously amusing.
Either way, I'm likely to be even more patient and sympathetic towards anxious family members than usual at work tonight.
He was having palpitations, and as I pressed my ear to his chest I heard his heart beating irregularly and rapidly. When it did not pass after a couple minutes, I said that I thought we should go to the ER. He agreed, and went to take an aspirin (he has Factor V Leiden, which makes him more at risk to develop blood clots). As he bent to drink from the faucet, the palpitations vanished, and upon listening to his heart I found it pulsing out its usual slow, steady drumbeat. At first I was relieved, but the suddenness with which the rapid irregular nature of the rhythm went away made it even more weird. The concerns lingered and we went to the ER to have him checked out.
The telemetry monitor wanted to make him look like a liar, and he sat in the cot for four hours with a perfect sinus waveform bouncing across the screen.
It was really, really strange to be on both sides of the situation in one morning.
I'm a worry-wort and I know it. I'm that family member who all nurses wish didn't exist... works in healthcare, watching every move you make, asking questions, suggesting theories, anxiously glued to the bedside. I was irritated that no one else seemed concerned about the Factor V Leiden history in combination with symptoms that sounded VERY much to me like paroxysmal atrial fibrillation. Hello thrombus??
Finally, doc comes back with news. Blood work is fine, chest x-ray is fine, D-Dimer (a blood test used to screen for clots) is within normal limits. Follow up with your PCP and avoid caffeine, they say.
Relieved, but still unsettled. Wishing I had a homemade EKG machine at the ready for if/when it happens again. Honeybunch thinks that he can make one pretty easily, which I find hilariously amusing.
Either way, I'm likely to be even more patient and sympathetic towards anxious family members than usual at work tonight.
Monday, June 07, 2010
Round two and running.
The season is moving on. Spinach and strawberries are waning, to be replaced by zucchini and cherries. The sight of cherries at the farmer's market this past weekend was such a thrill... they looked like such beautiful little jewels, in their red and blushing yellow!
A few recent night runs on the rocky trails of our local woodlands have led me to discover the downside of "barefoot" running (in Vibram FiveFingers)... stubbed toes! Goodness me, my left foot is throbbing today from the many expletive-laced encounters with rocks and roots last night. This revelation about running shoes has enabled me to run painlessly in regards to my knees, hips and back... but my toes are taking a serious beating. I suppose I should run by daylight instead of by the light of a red headlamp, at least until I learn to pick up my feet. However, night runs feel so damn good... the chilled air, the rich smells of cooling earth, the quiet... so far we haven't come across anyone else on the trails at night. It's much easier to get me out there at night than on a 90 degree afternoon.
The 10k mud race is this Saturday, and I'm fairly certain that I'll end up walking a good portion of it. I'm getting stronger and running longer, but I'm unlikely to finish the race without stopping to walk once each half mile. I'm okay with that. The whole point of running in general is to have fun, and the point of this race is to have fun and raise funds for a good cause. Whether I walk or run across the finish line, I'll enjoy the process.
A few recent night runs on the rocky trails of our local woodlands have led me to discover the downside of "barefoot" running (in Vibram FiveFingers)... stubbed toes! Goodness me, my left foot is throbbing today from the many expletive-laced encounters with rocks and roots last night. This revelation about running shoes has enabled me to run painlessly in regards to my knees, hips and back... but my toes are taking a serious beating. I suppose I should run by daylight instead of by the light of a red headlamp, at least until I learn to pick up my feet. However, night runs feel so damn good... the chilled air, the rich smells of cooling earth, the quiet... so far we haven't come across anyone else on the trails at night. It's much easier to get me out there at night than on a 90 degree afternoon.
The 10k mud race is this Saturday, and I'm fairly certain that I'll end up walking a good portion of it. I'm getting stronger and running longer, but I'm unlikely to finish the race without stopping to walk once each half mile. I'm okay with that. The whole point of running in general is to have fun, and the point of this race is to have fun and raise funds for a good cause. Whether I walk or run across the finish line, I'll enjoy the process.
Sunday, June 06, 2010
BEST ICE CREAM EVER.
Seriously. And the easiest to make. No cooking up egg custard and waiting for it to cool... just whip it up and throw it in the ice cream maker!! We used some honey as well and it is simply unbelievable. This recipe is originally from Dinner with Julie at http://dinnerwithjulie.com/ .
Sour Cream Ice Cream
2 cups full-fat sour cream
1 cup half-and-half
½ cup heavy whipping cream
½ cup sugar
1 teaspoon fresh lemon juice
½ teaspoon vanilla
pinch of salt
Whisk everything together. Pour the mix into your ice cream maker and freeze. (I cover the top of the ice cream with some plastic wrap to help prevent against freezer burn.)
Sour Cream Ice Cream
2 cups full-fat sour cream
1 cup half-and-half
½ cup heavy whipping cream
½ cup sugar
1 teaspoon fresh lemon juice
½ teaspoon vanilla
pinch of salt
Whisk everything together. Pour the mix into your ice cream maker and freeze. (I cover the top of the ice cream with some plastic wrap to help prevent against freezer burn.)
Friday, June 04, 2010
Dr. Jekyll
83 year old man admitted with change in mental status. Sweet as pie, but confused and forgetful. Makes multiple attempts throughout the night to get out of bed by himself, setting off the bed exit alarm and prompting me to rush into the room, settle him back in bed, speak softly to him and remind him that he needs to call for help if he wants to get out of bed. "Thank you for all the work you do, sweetheart", he says to me. "It's no trouble at all. Try to get some good rest tonight", I reply.
83 year old man admitted with change in mental status. Obnoxious, but confused and forgetful. Makes multiple attempts throughout the night to get ouf of bed by himself, setting off the bed exit alam and prompting me to rush into the room, settle him back in bed, speak softly to him and remind him that he needs to call for help if he wants to get out of bed. "You're a downright witch, what's that in your pocket, did your parents leave you out in the cold?" he demands loudly of me, reaching his unwashed hands into my scrub pocket to grope for the pens, saline flushes and scissors there. "Get your hands out of my pocket! That is very rude!", I reply.
Where did that sweet, though slightly confused old man go? DID YOU EAT HIM?!?
62 year old man admitted with pneumonia. Homeless, absolutely filthy even after multiple intense scrubbings by staff, positive urine drug screen for opiates, elevated blood alcohol level upon admission. The first night I cared for him as a new admission, I walked into the room to find feces all. over. everything. Walls, floor, commode, bed, bedrails, patient... everything. I patiently clean him up, he yells at me for bothering him, I firmly tell him that he has poop all over himself, and that part of being healthy is being clean and I simply cannot let him lie in that mess. He concedes. Refuses his meds. Goes to sleep.
The second night I have him, I receive in report that he was pleasant, calm, cooperative, agreeable to the treatment plan, taking all of his meds and resting comfortably. I breathe a sigh of relief, happy to hear that his attitude about his healthcare seems to have changed.
I enter the room and find that he is refusing all assessments, all care, vital signs, meds, EVERYTHING. He would not even permit me to take his temperature. Uses explitives to get his point across. Is completely disinterested in the fact that our nursing staff pooled money together and bought him new, clean clothes (to replace the ones saturated with urine and feces... including IN THE POCKETS... the smell of which made a seasoned nurse vomit when she handled them). Yells until I finally leave the room.
Sometimes, I can have seven patients, and it honestly feels like I'm caring for fourteen of them. Holy hell. I need some sleep.
83 year old man admitted with change in mental status. Obnoxious, but confused and forgetful. Makes multiple attempts throughout the night to get ouf of bed by himself, setting off the bed exit alam and prompting me to rush into the room, settle him back in bed, speak softly to him and remind him that he needs to call for help if he wants to get out of bed. "You're a downright witch, what's that in your pocket, did your parents leave you out in the cold?" he demands loudly of me, reaching his unwashed hands into my scrub pocket to grope for the pens, saline flushes and scissors there. "Get your hands out of my pocket! That is very rude!", I reply.
Where did that sweet, though slightly confused old man go? DID YOU EAT HIM?!?
62 year old man admitted with pneumonia. Homeless, absolutely filthy even after multiple intense scrubbings by staff, positive urine drug screen for opiates, elevated blood alcohol level upon admission. The first night I cared for him as a new admission, I walked into the room to find feces all. over. everything. Walls, floor, commode, bed, bedrails, patient... everything. I patiently clean him up, he yells at me for bothering him, I firmly tell him that he has poop all over himself, and that part of being healthy is being clean and I simply cannot let him lie in that mess. He concedes. Refuses his meds. Goes to sleep.
The second night I have him, I receive in report that he was pleasant, calm, cooperative, agreeable to the treatment plan, taking all of his meds and resting comfortably. I breathe a sigh of relief, happy to hear that his attitude about his healthcare seems to have changed.
I enter the room and find that he is refusing all assessments, all care, vital signs, meds, EVERYTHING. He would not even permit me to take his temperature. Uses explitives to get his point across. Is completely disinterested in the fact that our nursing staff pooled money together and bought him new, clean clothes (to replace the ones saturated with urine and feces... including IN THE POCKETS... the smell of which made a seasoned nurse vomit when she handled them). Yells until I finally leave the room.
Sometimes, I can have seven patients, and it honestly feels like I'm caring for fourteen of them. Holy hell. I need some sleep.
Wednesday, June 02, 2010
Even as the days lengthen...
...I'm finding it difficult to find time to accomplish all that I need to. There are days when I look at my Honeybunch and ask him, "How are we ever going to do this on a large scale?"
He works full time, and is building a business of making incredible LED and fire flow toys unlike any that I've seen on the market. While mostly still in the R&D phase, he's producing staves and hoops for talented friends and acquaintances every so many weeks, prototypes of what he'll soon be able to introduce to the flow arts community at large. It's amazing work, but time consuming and demanding of much of his energy. There are circuit boards to be burnt (in the dark room, aka our shower), new LEDS to experiment with, programs to write and processes to streamline. I'm very proud of him.
I work part time, and on paper that really sounds like I should be plowing through my To-Do lists on a daily basis with time to spare. But somehow I am always behind. I don't think it's a matter of poor time management... I multitask like a pro. But still the laundry is never REALLY done, there are constantly dishes to be washed in the sink, fresh produce in the fridge waiting to be cooked, consumed or preserved, and weeds crop up almost as soon as my hand plow passes through the soil.
And there's aphids. Slugs. Chicken/cat/skunk poopies to be mucked out. Inherited cold compost that hasn't been turned in two years, recently turned by my Honeybunch only to find infestation with horrible, awful pests that I shall not even name here! Suddenly there's a need to construct an entirely new composting system, the tomato and pepper bed is in SERIOUS need of mulching in this hot weather, we run out of homemade laundry soap (AND out of the supplies to make it... what store did we find the washing soda at again?). Oh yes, and I'd like to build some mosquito-proof rainwater barrels, please.
What really frightens me is that this sense of being overwhelmed comes when we're living in an APARTMENT in suburbia, with a few backyard garden beds and just under a dozen chickens. How will we handle it all when there's a house to manage, hay to bale, a flock of sheep who need their hooves trimmed?
I am trying to be kind to myself and believe that it's okay to be scared and overwhelmed, that this is a practice run and I'm new to the processes involved in building self reliance. It's easier to eat vegetables that you've unceremoniously stripped of their sheer plastic garments, to wash your clothes with goo from a brightly colored plastic bottle, to eat pizza out of a cardboard box. It is simpler to live a sterile life with no soil to scrub from beneath your fingernails, no animal feces to scrape off the bottoms of your boots, no little creature lives depending on you to close up the coop at night to keep them safe.
I am not choosing this life because it is simple or easy. I am choosing this life because it feels better, it tastes better, it is healthier for us and for our planet, it is guiltless (though not painless), more connected to the earth and the rhythms of nature, more fulfilling and challenging and fruitful. I ache in my heart when aphids attack my lettuces because I am happiest seeing life spring from the good black earth that I've worked with my own hands. I am not crazy, nor am I a masochist, and the benefits far outweigh the cost.
This is what I need to remember when I feel overwhelmed.
He works full time, and is building a business of making incredible LED and fire flow toys unlike any that I've seen on the market. While mostly still in the R&D phase, he's producing staves and hoops for talented friends and acquaintances every so many weeks, prototypes of what he'll soon be able to introduce to the flow arts community at large. It's amazing work, but time consuming and demanding of much of his energy. There are circuit boards to be burnt (in the dark room, aka our shower), new LEDS to experiment with, programs to write and processes to streamline. I'm very proud of him.
I work part time, and on paper that really sounds like I should be plowing through my To-Do lists on a daily basis with time to spare. But somehow I am always behind. I don't think it's a matter of poor time management... I multitask like a pro. But still the laundry is never REALLY done, there are constantly dishes to be washed in the sink, fresh produce in the fridge waiting to be cooked, consumed or preserved, and weeds crop up almost as soon as my hand plow passes through the soil.
And there's aphids. Slugs. Chicken/cat/skunk poopies to be mucked out. Inherited cold compost that hasn't been turned in two years, recently turned by my Honeybunch only to find infestation with horrible, awful pests that I shall not even name here! Suddenly there's a need to construct an entirely new composting system, the tomato and pepper bed is in SERIOUS need of mulching in this hot weather, we run out of homemade laundry soap (AND out of the supplies to make it... what store did we find the washing soda at again?). Oh yes, and I'd like to build some mosquito-proof rainwater barrels, please.
What really frightens me is that this sense of being overwhelmed comes when we're living in an APARTMENT in suburbia, with a few backyard garden beds and just under a dozen chickens. How will we handle it all when there's a house to manage, hay to bale, a flock of sheep who need their hooves trimmed?
I am trying to be kind to myself and believe that it's okay to be scared and overwhelmed, that this is a practice run and I'm new to the processes involved in building self reliance. It's easier to eat vegetables that you've unceremoniously stripped of their sheer plastic garments, to wash your clothes with goo from a brightly colored plastic bottle, to eat pizza out of a cardboard box. It is simpler to live a sterile life with no soil to scrub from beneath your fingernails, no animal feces to scrape off the bottoms of your boots, no little creature lives depending on you to close up the coop at night to keep them safe.
I am not choosing this life because it is simple or easy. I am choosing this life because it feels better, it tastes better, it is healthier for us and for our planet, it is guiltless (though not painless), more connected to the earth and the rhythms of nature, more fulfilling and challenging and fruitful. I ache in my heart when aphids attack my lettuces because I am happiest seeing life spring from the good black earth that I've worked with my own hands. I am not crazy, nor am I a masochist, and the benefits far outweigh the cost.
This is what I need to remember when I feel overwhelmed.
Monday, May 31, 2010
A long catch-up post.
First of all, I'd like to express my gratitude to the service men and women (and their families) who sacrifice their everything for us. Thank you.
Now, my most recent moral quandry at work. I received a patient from the ER the other night... 90-something years old with severe dementia that made her nonverbal, in with a bowel obstruction. Her abdomen was so distended and rock hard that it was actually distorted in shape. They put a nasogastric tube in her to suction, and used soft medical restraints on her wrists to keep her from pulling the tube out. Her family had decided to make her DNR, and that they would not be operating on her to fix the bowel obstruction.
So why put a tube down her nose, a very uncomfortable intervention... which initiated the need for restraints? The tube was not even draining anything. All night this women was fighting against the restraints trying to get this tube out.
She developed respiratory distress with an oxygen saturation of 85% near the end of my shift. I did what I could to make her comfortable...called the physician and respiratory therapist who bumped up her oxygen and gave her a nebulizer treatment, checked on her every ten minutes while the next shift listened to my taped report, let the nurse taking over know that she really wasn't doing very well and that she should be seen first. I drove home, worrying about this woman and wondering what else I could have done.
When I came in the following night I learned that she'd died half an hour after I'd left that morning. I was relieved for her... but still question what more I could have done to advocate for this woman and her comfort at the end of life.
In other news, aphids have overrun my salad garden. I am livid! I tried a spray that had worked on our pomegranate tree before when it became infested... a pureed combination of garlic, onion, cayenne pepper and Dr. Bronner's soap. The little buggers went running for their lives, I saw them leaping away as I sprayed... but the next day they were back in full force. The greens themselves look beautiful, they are thriving and I'd really like to be eating them... but I'm not thrilled with the idea of dining on aphids and I don't have twenty minutes to inspect each leaf after washing them! If you have any magic cures for aphid infestation, please comment. I've heard of ladybugs, but it might be too late to obtain them mailorder?
The latest additions to our flock seem healthy and happy, and the little Australorps are as big as our Golden Sexlinks now. They'll be popping out eggs before we know it! Recently one of the big girls laid a teensy little egg... here it is next to an average-sized Sexlink egg. We scolded them for slacking off and the next day they were back to laying proper eggs :)
Our tomatoes are thriving and peaking out over the tops of the tomato cages. All of them are loaded with blossoms, and several of them have little greenies! We found one tomato plant growing sideways out of the compost pile and decided to transplant it into the garden... it's doing very well and is learning to grow upright. Several others have come up on their own in the beds, apparently from last year's seed. We've given them proper new homes wherever we've found room. I am crossing my fingers for LOTS of fresh tomatoes this year.
Our potatoes are thriving. We've been "hilling them up" with straw and several of the bags are nearly at capacity, with the tops almost completely unrolled. The plants look very healthy, with strong stems and big green leaves... but who knows what's going on in the dark? I'd love to have lots of homegrown organic blue taters this fall.
We received our first CSA shipment last week. We got microgreens, red lettuce, kale, romaine, scallions, cress, radishes, Hakurei turnips, radicchio, and asparagus. The greens became a big salad and sandwich ingredients, the rest went into a yummy stirfry over rice. It held us over until the weekend, when we visited the farmer's market and indulged in lots of strawberries, rhubarb, sugarsnap and snow peas, brocolli, cauliflower, asparagus and local sharp cheddar. Our next CSA drop-off is on Wednesday this week because of the holiday.
Last night I was scheduled to go in to work for the holiday. LAME. But, I showed up and found that another nurse who was not on the schedule had come in by mistake and wanted to stay... so they sent me home! I was thrilled. My honeybun and I strapped on our FiveFingers and went for a midnight run through the woods, a far superior way to spend the night. At one point my ankle rolled painfully and I heard a "pop!". I was terrified that I'd broken my ankle FOR THE FOURTH TIME... but found that it was just a bit tender and after walking for a few minutes I could still run on it. The tendon must be loose and have rolled over the bone, producing that horrible sound. Ah, the dangers of running with only a headlamp to guide you over rocky trails! Lots of stubbed toes, too... but overall it was exhilirating and great fun. We're training for a 10k two weeks from now... we're in the recreational heat, so we're not aiming to be the fastest... so long as we finish it, have a good time while we're doing it, and raise some funds for a good cause, I'm happy!
It's a hot one out there today, but weeds are calling. Happy Memorial Day!
Now, my most recent moral quandry at work. I received a patient from the ER the other night... 90-something years old with severe dementia that made her nonverbal, in with a bowel obstruction. Her abdomen was so distended and rock hard that it was actually distorted in shape. They put a nasogastric tube in her to suction, and used soft medical restraints on her wrists to keep her from pulling the tube out. Her family had decided to make her DNR, and that they would not be operating on her to fix the bowel obstruction.
So why put a tube down her nose, a very uncomfortable intervention... which initiated the need for restraints? The tube was not even draining anything. All night this women was fighting against the restraints trying to get this tube out.
She developed respiratory distress with an oxygen saturation of 85% near the end of my shift. I did what I could to make her comfortable...called the physician and respiratory therapist who bumped up her oxygen and gave her a nebulizer treatment, checked on her every ten minutes while the next shift listened to my taped report, let the nurse taking over know that she really wasn't doing very well and that she should be seen first. I drove home, worrying about this woman and wondering what else I could have done.
When I came in the following night I learned that she'd died half an hour after I'd left that morning. I was relieved for her... but still question what more I could have done to advocate for this woman and her comfort at the end of life.
In other news, aphids have overrun my salad garden. I am livid! I tried a spray that had worked on our pomegranate tree before when it became infested... a pureed combination of garlic, onion, cayenne pepper and Dr. Bronner's soap. The little buggers went running for their lives, I saw them leaping away as I sprayed... but the next day they were back in full force. The greens themselves look beautiful, they are thriving and I'd really like to be eating them... but I'm not thrilled with the idea of dining on aphids and I don't have twenty minutes to inspect each leaf after washing them! If you have any magic cures for aphid infestation, please comment. I've heard of ladybugs, but it might be too late to obtain them mailorder?
The latest additions to our flock seem healthy and happy, and the little Australorps are as big as our Golden Sexlinks now. They'll be popping out eggs before we know it! Recently one of the big girls laid a teensy little egg... here it is next to an average-sized Sexlink egg. We scolded them for slacking off and the next day they were back to laying proper eggs :)
Our tomatoes are thriving and peaking out over the tops of the tomato cages. All of them are loaded with blossoms, and several of them have little greenies! We found one tomato plant growing sideways out of the compost pile and decided to transplant it into the garden... it's doing very well and is learning to grow upright. Several others have come up on their own in the beds, apparently from last year's seed. We've given them proper new homes wherever we've found room. I am crossing my fingers for LOTS of fresh tomatoes this year.
Our potatoes are thriving. We've been "hilling them up" with straw and several of the bags are nearly at capacity, with the tops almost completely unrolled. The plants look very healthy, with strong stems and big green leaves... but who knows what's going on in the dark? I'd love to have lots of homegrown organic blue taters this fall.
We received our first CSA shipment last week. We got microgreens, red lettuce, kale, romaine, scallions, cress, radishes, Hakurei turnips, radicchio, and asparagus. The greens became a big salad and sandwich ingredients, the rest went into a yummy stirfry over rice. It held us over until the weekend, when we visited the farmer's market and indulged in lots of strawberries, rhubarb, sugarsnap and snow peas, brocolli, cauliflower, asparagus and local sharp cheddar. Our next CSA drop-off is on Wednesday this week because of the holiday.
Last night I was scheduled to go in to work for the holiday. LAME. But, I showed up and found that another nurse who was not on the schedule had come in by mistake and wanted to stay... so they sent me home! I was thrilled. My honeybun and I strapped on our FiveFingers and went for a midnight run through the woods, a far superior way to spend the night. At one point my ankle rolled painfully and I heard a "pop!". I was terrified that I'd broken my ankle FOR THE FOURTH TIME... but found that it was just a bit tender and after walking for a few minutes I could still run on it. The tendon must be loose and have rolled over the bone, producing that horrible sound. Ah, the dangers of running with only a headlamp to guide you over rocky trails! Lots of stubbed toes, too... but overall it was exhilirating and great fun. We're training for a 10k two weeks from now... we're in the recreational heat, so we're not aiming to be the fastest... so long as we finish it, have a good time while we're doing it, and raise some funds for a good cause, I'm happy!
It's a hot one out there today, but weeds are calling. Happy Memorial Day!
Tuesday, May 18, 2010
Hello, my name is Gelfling, and I am an addict.
Yesterday we went to a local nursery to purchase a few herbs to fill some planters sitting vacant in the yard. On the list was lemongrass, lemon balm and borage.
We left with lemongrass, lemon balm, lemon basil, purple basil, foxglove, echinacea, and a cinnamon fern. And then we stopped by a local family farm and picked 5 overflowing quarts of fresh strawberries.
I blame my darling man... he's an enabler.
He draws the line at bunnies, though. I am bunny-obsessed, and lately have been prone to jumping around excitedly and exclaiming "BUNNIES! BUNNIES! I WANT BUNNIES!" at random. He hasn't budged, and we remain bunny free at the present. However, he does admit that it would be really cute to have bunnies running around the yard with the chickens (and I briefly considered changing the name of my blog to "Broody Bunnies" because the idea is just too cute to handle).
Today is the last day of our little vacation together, and I am vowing to keep far, far away from nurseries, animal shelters and strawberry fields. The first step is admitting you have a problem, right??
We left with lemongrass, lemon balm, lemon basil, purple basil, foxglove, echinacea, and a cinnamon fern. And then we stopped by a local family farm and picked 5 overflowing quarts of fresh strawberries.
"I'm sure we can find room for more plants/chickens/strawberries, dear..."
Today is the last day of our little vacation together, and I am vowing to keep far, far away from nurseries, animal shelters and strawberry fields. The first step is admitting you have a problem, right??
Sunday, May 16, 2010
Wednesday, May 12, 2010
Broken bones
I've never broken another person's bones before.
Last night, the words, "I need a nurse in room 15 NOW" rang out from the monitor station on our unit, breaking the early morning stillness. I ran into the room (somehow donning gloves on the way) and found an older gentleman lying in bed, staring at the ceiling blankly, and his chest wasn't moving. I checked his pulse. Nothing. I checked his arm for a DNR bracelet, called out for someone to call a code.
One of our nurse's aides ran in and, exhibiting superhuman strength for a woman her size, rolled him to the side so we could place the board underneath him. At the same time another nurse came in with the code cart, saying he was in asystole (for non-medical folk, this is the "flat line" you see on TV... not good). We got the board placed and lowered the bed as far as it would go... which was unfortunately not far enough for a woman of 5'6" to give effective compressions to a large, barrel-chested man. I climbed onto the bed, kneeling next to his chest, and began giving deep, forceful compressions.
The code team arrived within a minute, and as the respiratory therapist struggled for 12 whole minutes to get a breathing tube placed, as the monitor on the Zoll defibrillator continued to show no rhythm, as IVs were started and drugs were pushed, I kept pressing with all of my might into that man's sternum. I felt sweat running down my face and gathering behind my knees. I felt something crack beneath my hands, and was vaguely aware of the fact that I probably just broke one of his ribs. I heard the physician's voice say, "hold compressions". I pressed my fingers against his neck, and said "I've got a pulse". A glance at the monitor showed P-waves and QRS complexes. A nurse on the other side of the bed reported a BP of 225/120... not great under normal circumstances, but it was something. I climbed down from the bed as they prepared to wheel him down to intensive care.
The likeliness of him recovering is slim, having been without an airway for as long as he had been. But every person in that room was fighting as hard as they could to give him a chance, and I have the sore back to prove it. I just hope that if he does recover he gets adequate pain management for that fractured rib.
Last night, the words, "I need a nurse in room 15 NOW" rang out from the monitor station on our unit, breaking the early morning stillness. I ran into the room (somehow donning gloves on the way) and found an older gentleman lying in bed, staring at the ceiling blankly, and his chest wasn't moving. I checked his pulse. Nothing. I checked his arm for a DNR bracelet, called out for someone to call a code.
One of our nurse's aides ran in and, exhibiting superhuman strength for a woman her size, rolled him to the side so we could place the board underneath him. At the same time another nurse came in with the code cart, saying he was in asystole (for non-medical folk, this is the "flat line" you see on TV... not good). We got the board placed and lowered the bed as far as it would go... which was unfortunately not far enough for a woman of 5'6" to give effective compressions to a large, barrel-chested man. I climbed onto the bed, kneeling next to his chest, and began giving deep, forceful compressions.
The code team arrived within a minute, and as the respiratory therapist struggled for 12 whole minutes to get a breathing tube placed, as the monitor on the Zoll defibrillator continued to show no rhythm, as IVs were started and drugs were pushed, I kept pressing with all of my might into that man's sternum. I felt sweat running down my face and gathering behind my knees. I felt something crack beneath my hands, and was vaguely aware of the fact that I probably just broke one of his ribs. I heard the physician's voice say, "hold compressions". I pressed my fingers against his neck, and said "I've got a pulse". A glance at the monitor showed P-waves and QRS complexes. A nurse on the other side of the bed reported a BP of 225/120... not great under normal circumstances, but it was something. I climbed down from the bed as they prepared to wheel him down to intensive care.
The likeliness of him recovering is slim, having been without an airway for as long as he had been. But every person in that room was fighting as hard as they could to give him a chance, and I have the sore back to prove it. I just hope that if he does recover he gets adequate pain management for that fractured rib.
Monday, May 10, 2010
A week in pictures
Lovely juicy berries on the way!
Homemade pierogis
Salad Blue potatoes growing in bags
Tomatoes and peppers looking happy in the garden
The new coop
Prince, the terrifying beast!!
Iris
Praying mantis nymph
Rhubarb, prepped to make wine
Howdy!
Thursday, May 06, 2010
What I've learned this week...
If you throw up at work in the middle of getting report, they will send you home, and then you will be stuck wide awake and feeling like crap all night long, trying to be quiet so you're honeybunny can sleep.
When you hear in report that a patient is "a little sleepy", that could very well mean "entirely unresponsive to verbal or painful stimuli" for your shift.
"On hospice, DNR, but ok to intubate" is a very confusing combination of terms to use when discussing the code status of a patient. Don't wait to clarify this with the patient, family and physician. It sucks having to call a family member in the middle of the night when there's a change in the patient's condition and no one before you has determined EXACTLY what they want done for that patient.
Potatoes are slippery, and freshly sharpened knives will go right through your thumb if you're not careful.
Baby praying mantises are super cute!
When you hear in report that a patient is "a little sleepy", that could very well mean "entirely unresponsive to verbal or painful stimuli" for your shift.
"On hospice, DNR, but ok to intubate" is a very confusing combination of terms to use when discussing the code status of a patient. Don't wait to clarify this with the patient, family and physician. It sucks having to call a family member in the middle of the night when there's a change in the patient's condition and no one before you has determined EXACTLY what they want done for that patient.
Potatoes are slippery, and freshly sharpened knives will go right through your thumb if you're not careful.
Baby praying mantises are super cute!
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