No more monkey's swingin' on the bed!

I spent half a lifetime working on the Pediatric unit at the local hospital.

The children on this unit are never critical but can be really sick.

One of my 2 year olds, (James T.) , had been there for several days and had just turned the corner from really sick to just sick. He had been a model patient, laying quietly in his crib, hooked up to his monitors and IV fluids , watching TV and playing with his cars. Parents are encouraged to stay at the child's bedside but this little boy had 5 siblings age 0-6  , and his mom wasn't able to stay with him. Still, he was pretty compliant and never tried to escape his crib with plastic extended sides and lid 4 feet above the mattress- pretty much a cage.

I used to make rounds frequently on the kids, especially those without parents bedside or in Isolation and James T. was no exception.

 James T. was within ear shot of my nursing station, in an Isolation room, but not in line of sight. I heard an unusual noise coming from his room. I went to check and he was laying there all smiles. Left, went back to the desk, and hear the noise again. Checking on James T., He is laying at the opposite side of the bed, IV line twisted. Straighten him out, chat with him and settle him down. After a few more minutes, the noise reoccurs. This time, I was just outside James' room and walk right in. Shocked to see him hanging on the upper bar of his crib, swinging on it like a trapeze artist, getting his feet planted firmly on the cribs side rail for leverage. He has almost worked his head through the plastic roof and ready to hang himself. Horror of horrors! He is still all smiles and pleased at his new found ability and the possibility of escape. Somehow, he found what little bounce was left in the old crib mattress.  He has been caught and now we need to find a safer solution for confinement.

I discussed James T. near escape and hanging with his physician. A plan was made. He got a room upgrade, a bedside playmate (volunteer) and plans for an early discharge. A happy ending for all of us.

No more monkeys swingin' on the bed!

EXCUUUUUSE ME!

I was enjoying a therapeutic shopping day with a friend. She accompanies me occasionally to provide clucking encouragement and discerning judgment when mine fails me. 
 I have my handful of stores that give me joy just to walk around in  and look . I'm not a big shopper and when I do shop, I make sure one of my favorite stores is included in the shopping rounds.
We found ourselves walking through a store enjoying its music selection. (Hobby Lobby) . Neither one of us were finding anything we were really looking for but we strolled down each aisle pushing our empty carts along just in case we did.
My way was blocked in the middle of one aisle by a woman and her cart. The woman was texting on her cell phone and didn't move aside when she saw me.
 "Excuse me", I said. No response or movement.
"Ugh, pardon me". Still no response.
I tapped her on the shoulder and asked, "could I get by you?"
Her reply; "You'll have to wait until I'm done texting here."
I look behind me at my friend to share an indignant glance , and a scowling squint, with  lower lip bite. I turn back to deal with the aisle blocker. . .  I freakin' don't think so! I shoved Ms. Texter aside with my cart, using it as a plow.

She gives me a LOOK which is no match for mine. It took all of my self  control to stop from grabbing her phone and smacking her on the head with it .

I'm not sure what the correct etiquette is for this behavior. I didn't have Emily Posts book handy.  Guess I'll write my own!

If the shoe fits....

I have freakishly large feet. It has always been so.

Shopping for shoes as a child was a horror show. My mother could not understand why my feet kept growing. It got to the point that she had to drive me and my two fat feet all the way to another county, where there was a "special" shoe store for people like me

I know the shoe store was intended to shod people with orthotics, flat feet, stumpy feet, crippled feet.

It carried few shoes in my size range and I usually had the choice of 2-3 pretty ugly shoes. The trip to the specialty shoe store was an all day affair, ending in frustration and tears from my mother, fits of refusal from me and the purchase of an expensive, ugly pair of shoes that I was only to wear to school so they would last longer. Thankfully, my feet grew extensively longer and fatter and I only had the ugly shoes less than a year if I was lucky.

My father told me to wear shoe boxes and made me a pair of shoebox shoes as a joke. Glad that it was only a joke but I was equally glad to have gone barefoot for most of my outdoor days or wear flip flops every single day of summer. A perpetual bloody stubbed toe was my badge of honor and survival.

I had to turn down being a bridesmaid in 2 weddings because of the required footwear for the occasion. Humiliating but true.

I wore mens sneakers and sandals (still do) every day unless there was a special occasion or I was forced into a dress for school. For band recitals, when long dresses and nice shoes were required, I wore way too small shoes that came off the second the concert was over and I walked barefooted to the car.

As an adult, the quest for footwear has been just as difficult. Not so much the length any longer. Thankfully, women have grown taller and their feet longer; its the width that proves the challenge.

We all have our little imperfections to deal with as we grow up. Feet were mine. Forget acne, split ends, jelly belly or cellulite. Feelings of nausea and insecurity still strike me as I enter any shoe store.

I relive the days of shoe managers and salesmen making horrid comments about my feet. The last was at a Nordstroms where the manager was called to deal with me and told me they could not help me there so I would have to find another shoe store to order my shoes. That was a pivotal day for me. The first time I stood up for me and my feet, offering to stick one in his mouth or up his rear. . . his choice. I also wrote to the company. Although it only got me an apology and I was still shoeless.

Now that we have worldwide internet, my hours and days spent seeking shoes are shrunk. I have had much better success and suffered no further assault to my psyche.

I have to give a shout out to PAYLESS SHOES who have carried super sizes for women for decades and helped in my quest of appropriate shoes by calling associate stores. The shoes are never comfy, but suffice, are inexpensive and last.

 If you hate odd feet, have a little foot fetish or consider any shoe size over an 11 WWW to be abhorrent, keep your comments to yourselves or risk impalement by flying foot.

I am what I am, I stand tall and upright with my feet planted firmly on the ground. If the shoe fits, I wear it- Mens or womens.

Make the most of the dash

I read a quote today that I have read before but didn't give it too much consideration.

"Your life is made of two dates and a dash. 
  Make the most of the dash."

This made me stop and really soak in the words. Best case scenario, I get to live the second half of my life in perfect health and mind, experiencing all those activities on my bucket list. I'm already past the half century mark and realistically, I only have a third of my life left!

What have I done to make that dash between my beginning and end really stand out?
It seems as if I've been waiting for a period of my life to  wind down so I could do something super awesome, but its always put off because I am waiting on another life change to occur.
My life has definitely been subdivided. . . . College, marriage, have children, grow the children, launch the children, career and the race to retirement. Now what?

Now that there's time in my days,  I am running out of them and the stuff I really want to fill them in with is pricey - like touring Europe, cruising around famous islands, climbing Mt. Whitney, going on a shopping spree and only shopping from the non-clearance items. Flying around the world visiting friends and family instead a occasional texts or phone calls.

I'm hoping for out of reach hopes and dreams to appear. . .like owning an amazing house on a hill with a breath taking view to decorate and the invention of a body molder that sucks off the fat and tones your muscles until you look like a 27 year old poster girl for Women's Health magazine. Pipe dreams yes, but great dash fillers.

I It's time to make my mark in this wide world and figure out what God's purpose for me here is. Surely there is more. I hope so! Other wise my dash is done and I have lost my opportunity.

I am proclaiming the year of 2016 the beginning of a new dash chapter. Join me. Don't let your dash end with unresolved dreams and hopes. I'm sure going to give it my best!