Daily Prompt, Writing Stuff

Prompt: Windshield Bug Juice

Karen

Tell us about the time you rescued someone else (person or animal) from a dangerous situation. What happened? How did you prevail?

Did I tell you guys about the time Kevin nearly got ran over by an ambulance in New York City?

It was a few months after his motorcycle accident. It was July 2010. We had already booked a cruise out of New York to Canada and we weren’t sure if we would be able to go considering Kevin shattered his pelvis in April.

He had to live in a wheelchair for about 8 weeks after his accident to give his pelvis time to heal. Once the doctor’s said it was okay, he had to learn to walk all over again.

I tried to talk him out of the trip. Luckily, we had bought trip insurance and we could have gotten out of the trip if he really wanted to. He waffled back and forth on whether he could handle it and in the end, we went.

The trip was super hard on Kevin. SUPER HARD. We walked all over that city and poor Kevin hobbled along with his cane at first, but it just got to be too much for him so he switched to his walker.

You can really tell how weak and exhausted he was in this picture:

New York '10

We were riding the New York subway and it was almost more than he could handle.

I felt so sorry for him.

And the weather certainly didn’t help – New York in July?!? What were we thinking?! I think we all lost five pounds in sweat alone.

New York '10

We were only in New York a few days before catching our boat, but Kevin was exhausted after those few days and we still had another four days on a cruise boat to go!

In hindsight, we probably should have canceled the cruise. But I will say that though the trip for Kevin was super hard, it did him a world of good. He recovered by leaps and bounds after that trip. I think pushing himself really helped his body to heal faster.

But I wouldn’t want him to go through that again to test my theory.

And did I mention he didn’t complain once??

I am glad, though, that we took his walker. At least he instantly had someplace to sit when our walking just got to be too much.

New York '10

We were walking through Times Square and … I don’t know if you’ve ever been to Times Square but it’s sensory overload, on crack. There’s so much noise. So many sights to see. So many people to dodge that your eyes don’t know where to land first and it’s hard to pick out sounds because THERE ARE SO MANY SOUNDS!

We were walking across the entrance to a side street, all of our heads turned in opposite directions, when I suddenly picked up the sound of a siren. (This was before I worked at the hospital – my life on foreshadow mode). I glanced down the side street and noticed an ambulance barreling toward us.

I hurried the boys across and then noticed that Kevin was distracted and hadn’t picked up on the fact that a two-ton truck was nearly on top of him. I yelled over the noise, frantically pointing in the direction of the white blur baring down on him. He was using his walker to cross the street and when he spotted the ambulance, he stumbled/speed walked to get out of the way.

I would have laughed but I was too terrified. It’s sort of like making a joke too soon after a traumatic event – the adrenaline hasn’t had a chance to wear off – and we had just survived six weeks of hospital and rehab after his motorcycle accident – how ironic would it have been for him to recover from that harrowing experience only to be run down by an ambulance, using his walker, in Times Square?

I didn’t really “rescue” him, more like I “warned” him, but I deserve a kudos for making sure the man didn’t end up bug juice on an ambulance windshield.

Right?

Fiction Fix, Writing Stuff

Write: Girl Unclaimed

Karen

I threw the stick and watched Daisy run after it, her tongue lolling to one side, her stubby little legs pumping unrestrained excitement.

I glanced out over the water and became momentarily mesmerized by the light flirting with the small ripples from fish nibbling algae on the surface of the lake.

And then I saw it – a yellow spot among the tall, green grass gently swaying in the sweet twilight breeze. I narrowed my eyes to try and pick out the object without having to actually move closer to it. My peripheral vision blurred as I concentrated on the object that did not belong in this secluded spot. A slow feeling of dread started in my sternum and gently crept up to give my heart a warning squeeze.

Daisy dropped the stick on my sandal and I jumped – I had momentarily forgotten all about her. I bent to pick up the stick, my eyes never leaving that spot of yellow. From my lowered vantage point, my eyes focused on something new. Was that … an arm?

I quickly stood up, my breath caught behind the sudden fear in my throat.

I gripped the stick tighter in my hand and cautiously moved toward the object in the grass.

Daisy happily skipped alongside me. Her gait faltered as we got closer, her nose lifted and she suddenly growled low in her throat.

“I know, Daisy. Chillax,” I crooned in an attempt to keep her calm and not start a barrage of barking. The less noise we made the better.

I held the stick out in front of me – I guess I thought I could use it as a weapon. Though not long or sharp, it was thick enough that it might do temporary damage to a skull, or two.

My eyes never left the object, but I was keenly aware of where I was stepping. I had enough combat experience to slip back into that persona with very little effort. I had thought I had lost my edge but moving toward the target brought back a barrage of memories and I involuntarily winced as horrific images began to flicker and flit through my consciousness. Memories I had spent countless hours in therapy trying to eradicate.

My eyes narrowed as I got closer. It was definitely a body, a woman, no, a girl. She couldn’t have been more than twenty-years old. I paused to assess my surroundings. I looked out over the lake and studied the parameter. No movement. The birds continued to sing, a raccoon edged toward the far end of the lake and carelessly swiped at the water gently lapping the shore.

A soft breeze swept over the body. I crinkled my nose. Decomp – she had probably been dead for at least 24 hours.

“Damn it.” I sighed and slowly stepped back from the body. I couldn’t afford to leave any trace of myself on the body. I reached into my pocket and pulled out my cell phone. I pressed 9-1 and then stopped.

Even if I called in anonymously, they would still track my cell phone down. I couldn’t afford to be found. Not yet anyway. Not after I had spent the last three years making sure every trace of my existence had been erased.

I studied the girl’s face and slowly put my phone back into my pocket.

“I’m sorry,” I whispered regretfully. My apology dissipated on the summer breeze.

Life

Life: My Aches and Pains

Karen

seen-better-days Have you noticed, when you lay down for a nap, or settle into a comfortable position as you’re willing yourself to fall asleep – that moment when your body begins to quiet and your breathing evens out, grows shallow, gets comfortable, when your heart slows and beats a comfortable staccato against your breastbone, how many nerve endings quiver and jump?

I’ve been noticing it more and more. It seems my body is beginning to protest more and more the older I get. Luckily, the various body parts that occasionally give me problems tend to play nicely with one another – one part will flare up while the others grow quiet and wait their turn. My aches and pains rarely flare up all at once – my pain is considerate of my tolerance level.

I have a high pain threshold. I can take a lot before I reach the point of going crazy or crying uncle and see a doctor. I do not have a primary care physician because I’m rarely sick. If I ever reach the level of going to see an urgent care doctor, it’s serious. I try very hard to control my body, not the other way around.

I realize that I’m blessed with good health. This fact has never been more apparent than it has been since I started working in healthcare. My problems are minuscule, almost non-existent, compared to others whose bodies have completely betrayed them.

Nothing warms my heart more than helping a patient be able to walk relatively pain free, to come in for their post-op appointment looking 110% better than they did before surgery. It’s satisfying and it makes me very proud and honored to work for miracle workers.

I have predictable aches and pains – my biggest issues are:

Sinuses/Headaches – but I have that under control with Sudafed products and migraine medication. I can tell what sort of issue I’m having based on where my headache originates. If it’s in the temples, it’s caffeine withdrawal. If my nose feels like someone has a pair of vice grips on it and is squeezing, it’s sinuses (and this usually corresponds with the barometric pressure).

Low back – I started having low back problems shortly after falling off a 6 ft ladder when I worked for Wendys and tried to stand on the very top to change the marquee. I landed on my low back, knocking the wind out of me and bruising my kidneys. I have a permanent bump around my coccyx (tailbone) area. Kevin calls it my “tail.” I suspect, though this has never been confirmed with testing, that the tissues did not heal correctly in that area and whenever I get really stressed or really lazy, the muscles around my coccyx will swell and tighten thereby decreasing my blood flow in that area. It hurts to straighten up and walk. I have found that Ibuprofen and heat works really well at massaging those knots out. (Ibuprofen is an anti-inflammatory and works to reduce swelling). I now know to do stretches, squats and to walk whenever my low back starts to feel tight.

My vagina feels like it’s falling out – I know. I’m sorry. But I’m just keepin’ it real. At first, I thought maybe my pelvic muscles were getting weak. Which, they might be because your muscles do get weaker as you get older. And I did have a large bowel resection (my large intestine had a few twists in it that required three feet of it to be surgically removed). As a result, I’ve been doing squats and reverse sit-ups to counteract that possibility. I don’t really know how to describe this feeling. Whatever is happening, it puts pressure on my bladder and I have to pee a million times. It’s not a UTI, it’s just an overwhelming urge to pee. I’ve really been paying attention to what I’ve been eating and when it happens. I think I’m eating too much fiber. I make two scrambled eggs, toast, orange juice and one fiber bar for my breakfast in the morning. Sometimes, instead of eggs, I eat a bowl of oatmeal. I force myself to eat a heavy breakfast in case I don’t get to eat lunch and I’m not dying of hunger later. I then eat another fiber bar mid-morning to take the edge off my hunger. You can imagine what happens when I get home from work. Since I’ve been trying to cut back on the amount of food I’m eating, I’m wondering if all the fibrous foods I’m eating is putting pressure on my intestines and since I’m not eating that much food, there’s nothing to “squeeze” out? And the pressure on my intestines is putting pressure on my bladder? I have no idea if this is what’s going on, but I’m going to experiment in the next few days and test my theory.

My left (dominant) arm is weak and hurts – This pain started a few weeks after my flu shot. (*SIGH*) I have VERY STRONG FEELINGS AGAINST THE FLU SHOT but if I want to keep my job, I’m required to get the damn thing every year. I think the girl who gave me my flu shot this year did it wrong. I think she gave it to me too far up my upper arm. I never felt a thing. I didn’t feel the prick when she stuck me or any burning after the poison was injected. I did a little research and that’s actually not a good thing – to not feel anything. I’ve had forearm and elbow achy pain ever since. I almost went to the doctor the pain was so bad – it was keeping me up at night. However, after doing a little research, I began to ice it (which really helps), put a heating pad on it, (which hurts like hell the next day but then evens out and doesn’t hurt at all for several days after that), and took Ibuprofen, which really, really helps (which leads me to believe that I have some inflammation going on in there) but Ibuprofen is not good for your liver, so I only take it when the pain gets unbearable. I also have pain in the palm of my left hand, too. This pain is aggravated by typing so I wonder about carpal tunnel, though I don’t have numbness in my fingers. The pain does seem to be getting better, so maybe it’s just muscle strain. I haven’t given up trying to control it on my own yet and have no plans on going to the doctor for it at this time.

And that’s about it. That’s the extent of my aches and pains. This may sound like a lot to some but it’s really nothing compared to many people. I rarely come down with colds and I honestly can’t remember the last time I came down with a cold. (And no, it’s not because I take the damn flu shot – I wasn’t sick for years before the stupid thing). Whenever I start to feel icky, I suck on a Zicam, use nose spray and burn the back of my throat (which burns off any lingering bacteria – and yes, I know it sounds crazy but I SWEAR it really helps).

All of this to document how little discomfort I have now. I’m curious to see if and/or when this changes as I get older. I think the key to staying on top of aches and pain is to keep moving and that’s exactly what I plan on doing – staying busy and physically moving.

Life

Life: Changing Faces

Karen

personality3

I’m not a social person. Not really. Though I bet if you ask the people I work with, or even my family, they would say that I am.

Yes. I CAN get along with people. Yes. I DO appear like I enjoy interacting with people.

But here’s a secret – I don’t.

Not really.

I interact with people because I have to. Given the choice of being isolated or around people, I will choose isolation every single time.

Generally speaking, I don’t like people.

I would describe myself as being a chameleon. I tend to be whatever the situation requires me to be.

At work, I’m a confident, no-nonsense, efficient, humorous, compassionate co-worker with one goal – do my job to the best of my ability.

At home, I’m a wife, mother, daughter (in-law), and aunt. I play these roles when the situation warrants. I tend to laugh too loudly, contribute to conversations when appropriate, (or not), and play my familial role when necessary.

In public, I’m polite, considerate, and unassuming when around strangers.

I don’t have any close friends so I’m spared of having to assume yet another exhausting personality.

Whenever I’m alone, or I’m in public but by myself yet surrounded by people, my personal mantra is: please don’t talk to me. Ignore me. I’m invisible.

And yet. People still approach me. I get asked questions a lot when I’m in public. People take one look at me and assume I want to know their life stories. I assure you, I do not. Apparently, I have a trust-worthy face.

I was talking to my old boss the other day – I was toying with the idea of transferring within the company to a different position. I was a shoe-in for this position but it would be quite different than what I’m doing now – it would be in a quiet office, dealing with insurance companies all day long. I would have very little interaction with ACTUAL people. When I was weighing the pros and cons with my old boss, she said, “But Karen. You would miss the patient interaction. You’re so good with patients.” And I nearly laughed – she really didn’t know me at all. The LACK of interaction was one of the biggest PROS to the job, in my opinion.

It sort of made me sad that my work persona is so convincing that even people I’ve worked with for years don’t really SEE the real me.

personality I’m never outright rude to people. I always smile and pretend I give a rat’s ass, but inside, I’m desperately looking for ways to end the interaction. And I thank God every day people can not read my thoughts.

I would likely be burned at the stake if they could.

I don’t really dislike people, per se, I just don’t have any desire to be around people. I would much rather blend into the background and simply watch. I ADORE people watching. People are fascinating to me. I love watching the play of emotions cross their faces, their body language and mannerisms that give away what they’re thinking and feeling. These tell-tales may not be obvious to the casual observer, but to a people watcher such as myself (that sounds creepy), I see them.

I have a knack (gift?) for reading people. I can tell, within a few moments, what sort of personality someone has and then I adjust my personality accordingly. Queen bees, loud/obnoxious, vain, quiet, no-nonsense, shy, uncertain, braggart, brash, bold, vulgar … there is usually a reason for all of these types of personalities – some insecurity they are covering up, or exposing. Sometimes it’s painfully obvious. Sometimes it takes a while to get to know the person, but eventually, I start to get a picture of what type of person I’m interacting with and become the person they can get along with.

Sometimes I wonder who the TRUE me really is? I’ve been someone else to either survive a situation or to assimilate into a sub-culture so many times and for so long I don’t even know anymore.

I’m not sure I really want to know anymore.

People, generally speaking, annoy me. I find fault with everybody. She’s too loud. He’s too obnoxious. She’s too vain. He’s too confident. She’s insecure. He doesn’t possess a funny bone in his body.

I don’t know why I’m so critical of people. Lord knows I’M not perfect. I guess I do not want to spend the time, nor the energy, trying to compensate for these perceived flaws. Life is too short for the nonsense that comes with drama.

I realize I’m not painting a very attractive picture of myself, but I’m just keeping it real. I’m a realist, if nothing else. And that’s not always a glamorous personality trait, I guess.

Daily Prompt, Work Stuff, Writing Stuff

Prompt: Accidental Healthcare Career

Karen

Tell us about your first day at something — your first day of school, first day of work, first day living on your own, first day blogging, first day as a parent, whatever.

It’s Obama’s fault that I work in healthcare.

I never, in a million years, even TOSSED the idea around of working in healthcare before our glorious dictator, erhm, leader, (*said with sarcasm*) started the current nightmare we’re living in right now. (Have you guessed that I DESPISE the man?)

It never even occurred to me to attempt it. I knew I could never be a nurse. Not so much for the gross factor (though there is that – KUDOS to nurses!), but I get so impatient with people who are sick or in pain. (Just ask my family). My first reaction is to say, “suck it up, buttercup.”

Not exactly stellar bedside manner, right?

This attitude applies to me, too. It drives me CRAZY to be sick or have some pain I can’t seem to control or get rid of.

But when Obama waved his scepter and deemed Obamacare to be the law of the land (*snicker* – yes, I’m being bitchy), I knew I had to DO something to protect my family. I had been a stay-at-home mom for the past seven years – the kids were old enough to take care of themselves and it was time to get back to work. But where to work? I could try and use my degree (I graduated from college in 2003 with a Technical Writing degree – more on why I didn’t pursue this later), but what if it took me forever to FIND a local job in that field? Time was of the essence, who knew how Obamacare would screw everything up for us?

Kevin was (is) self-employed. And with me not working, we were paying ASTRONOMICAL fees for family health insurance. And we were looking at even higher fees once Obamacare passed.

What were my options? I could go back to retail, banking or even the restaurant business. I have a lot of experience in all of those fields, but even then, how much would it ultimately cost us for health insurance?

I admit, the main reason I applied at the hospital was because I wanted to thumb my nose at Obama and his stupidity. How ironic would it be to have health insurance through a healthcare facility? Oh sure, I know that Obama will never know, nor care, about my decision to work in healthcare simply because of his God-like complex to ultimately control his minions (again with the bitchy), but I figured, on some level, that it might be the safest option in order to protect my family.

So. I applied and to my utter astonishment, I got the job.

Actually, that’s not true. I applied first to the insurance processing center and made it to my second interview. I sat at a table with four other women, the women I would be ultimately working with, interviewing me and I guess they didn’t like me because I didn’t get the job. I didn’t give up though. There was a scheduler’s position at the neurosurgery center that I went for and got. I was now responsible for scheduling testing for two neurosurgeons.

I was both excited and terrified. I bought my required scrubs (at that time we were wearing a different color every day so it was quite expensive initially) and my first day on the job consisted of all-day training, becoming familiar with the hospital rules and regulations, signing up for benefits, etc. We were allowed to wear business attire for my first two days of training.

There were a handful of us – maybe around 20? I remember feeling VERY THANKFUL because the economy was tanking at that time and I was just grateful to have ANY job, let alone the job I landed. I felt extremely grateful to be there.

That feeling quickly dissipated when I started my first day at the clinic. It was on Wednesday and after my boss took me around the clinic and introduced me, I began to fully appreciate what I had gotten myself into.

I knew nothing, NOTHING, about the medical field. In essence, I had to learn a whole new language. I had to learn new software; I had to learn how to be what they wanted me to be by constantly adjusting and readjusting my expectations and my personality. I was absolutely terrified and I wondered, on more than one occasion, just what the hell I was doing there.

I also came very, very close, to walking out several times. (Even recently).

I was so stressed. Just when I thought I had “gotten it,” something, or someone, would throw me a curve ball and I was left floundering. I suppose I did a good job of hiding my terror because months later, when I had become comfortable with my position and the people I worked with, I told them how I felt when I first started and my co-workers were shocked – they had no idea, they said.

I guess that was something, at least.

I could BS my way through patient interactions. I’m telling you, the most helpful class I took in college was communication. It taught me to understand different personalities and how to get along with those personalities. It taught me patience and how to word things so that people didn’t take offense but at the same time, it allowed me to maintain control over the situation.

I think everyone should be required to take a communications class like that (and I’m talking about the art of communication – studying Aristotle and the likes. It sounds boring, and it was, for the most part, it was also difficult to digest, but once that light bulb went off in my head, I feel like I can pretty much handle any personality now).

What stressed me out the most, and still does on many levels, was interacting with the doctors. As if rubbing elbows with doctors in general is not nerve-wracking enough, I’m rubbing elbows with BRAIN SURGEONS. To become a brain surgeon, you have to be the top 1% – these guys are SCARY SMART. Human, but Einstein smart.

I would feel nauseous anytime I had to speak directly with a doctor. Did I ask my question plainly? Should I have been able to answer my question without going to the doctor? Did I present myself in a professional manner? Will they like me or ask management to get rid of me?

(Hey – that’s actually happened before).

The doctors TERRIFIED me. I drove home, on many, many occasions when I first started working for the hospital, crying because I was so stressed out from trying to learn everything. Thank God I’m a fast learner. I tend to catch on quickly.

Looking back, I’m pretty proud of myself. I stepped into a world I knew little to nothing about and conquered it, somewhat. I’m currently working on educating myself so that I can take a certification test and become a CMA (certified medical assistant) which will lead to a raise and more responsibility. I’m feeling more comfortable in my duties and I’ve been told by both management, and the doctors (EEK!) that I’m doing a good job.

It sort of blows my mind, to be honest.

Oh – one more first to tell you about – the first time I had to take staples out. It was a PLIF (posterior lumbar interbody fusion). The nurse showed me how to use the tool and I got down on my knees, swallowed the bile back down my throat and took those suckers out. It’s actually sort of fun, to be honest. Unless they’ve been in for a while and they’re starting to scab over. Then you have to dig into the flesh a bit and that hurts the patient. I’m still not 100% confident on removing staples, but I just swallow my apprehension, grit my teeth and force myself to do it and appear confident while doing it. (Which is key – my lead nurse told me that patients will never know that you haven’t done something very often, as long as you sound confident while doing it).

I watched a carpal tunnel suture removal the other day. I haven’t done one of those yet. My doctor doesn’t do very many carpal tunnels. That’s pretty cool. You first don a pair of clean gloves, swab the stitches with rubbing alcohol to remove germs/bacteria, then you take your scissors and snip the stitch while pulling it by the knot with the tweezers. I’ve yet to see one long continuous stitch removed – I’ve put the word out if anyone gets one of those to come get me so I can watch how they do it.

So those are some of my firsts. Without sounding like a braggart (too late, I’m sure), I have to admit, this job is one of the things I’m most proud of in my life. I have grabbed this medical monster by the tail and conquered it. Not bad for someone who didn’t go to any sort of medical school. The other girls I started out with? The other schedulers? Didn’t last. They couldn’t hack it and transferred to other departments.

I’m the last scheduler standing.