Grinch Sniping

Christmas ain't what it was when I was a kid.
Nothing is what it was when I was a kid.
I used to run around in the woods  all summer in my underpants catching frogs and wrestling my siblings. We would be arrested for that at this point. And probably become Youtube sensations.

When I was a kid Christmas was a little magical.
I went to bed one night and woke up to a 20 foot Christmas tree in my living room that Dad and Uncle Howie got drunk and cut down and dragged through the woods. We once hosted 40 people for dinner. I imagine that was less magical for my mother, but I digress.

So when you're a kid Christmas is a magic thing.
But when you get bigger it can kinda suck. There's a lot of pressure and possibly alot of expense and you have to drive in the crap weather. And then there are the hipster Grinch types.

People who are struggling as much as anyone else with the holidays and all they encompass, but feel free to share the misery.

The irony that I  am doing the same thing right now is not lost on me. However, this is my blog and you don't have to read it. Don't let the door hit ya on the butt on the way out.

Here are some of my favourite gripes from Grinches and my response to them. One day I'll do a blog post that isn't a list. Today isn't that day y'all.

"Let's keep the Christ in Christmas"
Yes, Christmas is a Christian Holiday. Placed right over top of the Pagan holiday, next to the Jewish holiday.
So for all intents and purposes this is indeed a HOLIDAY SEASON. If you would prefer to wish people a Merry Christmas, please do.  Ain't nobody stopping you. Wish them a happy Yule? Your call. Happy Hanukkah is cool too. Don't like any of those? There's always Festivus for the Rest of us.  But for the love of all that is holy please don't pull on your victim hat and say other cultures are trying to subvert your holiday. And stay the hell off of my Facebook page while you're doing it.

Christmas is too commericalized
Yes, corporations make some fine cash off of the holiday season. Black Friday is so named because companies sell enough that day to put their books in the black. Were you going to go ahead and make your gifts? Cause that would rock. Got some awesome wood carving skills do ya? Able to paint? Cool.
The reality is that at this time in our culture most of the goods we buy are from corporations. You ain't griping all year long when you wander the aisles of walmart but come Dec 1st everybody is a social responsibility crusader.
Don't misunderstand, I try to shop local as much as I can. But I make a challenge out of it. "what can I buy from a local vendor that would be of use to my recipient?" Sometimes it's not possible. So I suck it up and go to Walmart. And I shut up about it.

We spend too much on toys the kids don't need
Kids don't need most of the toys they have. True Story. So don't buy your kids toys. We used to get one big family gift (remember the first Nintendo? DUCK HUNT) then some stuff individually. There were plenty of books, and art supplies and outside toys like shovels and clothes. And we loved it.

Everybody is miserable during the Holidays. Suicides go up
Ah yuh. People are miserable. There's no sun. It's cold. Its dark. Wouldn't this be a great time of year to have some time set aside for sitting around eating and drinking and giving each other thoughtful little gifts and singing songs and decorating the cave? Might be a great idea. Lets do that.

The holidays to me represent a chance to do several things.

Think about the people you love:
It's a gift giving time.  What could the people you love have use for? What would make them smile? Last year I bought every body composters for their kitchens with charcoal filters to keep the smell down. Big hit.
What can you do to make the lives of those you love easier? Ima do all the cookies this year thanks to a cookie exchange.

Celebrate what you have:
I've said it before and I'll say it again. Us Canadians have it pretty frigging decent compared to some places in the world. Maybe we could stand around being happy for what we have instead of bitching bout what we don't .

Act Charitably:
It's the giving season and while we have it good here there is always  room for giving. So put some money in a Salvation Army Kettle, buy a toy for the toy drive. Shovel your neighbour's walk. Take cookies to a shut in. The list is endless.

Be with the people you love:
So we're eating and drinking together, maybe while we're doing some festivities we take the time to really talk to those around us. I mean, we're gonna be here all night. Right? Ask how some one is doing...then shut up and listen. Listen like listening...not waiting for your opportunity to talk.

Reflect on the year
This may be more of a New Year's thing...but it's never too early to start reflecting  and possibly setting goals.

Wear a stupid hat and sing really loud:
This never gets old and there are too few opportunities to do this in a socially acceptable manner. And you're not too cool to do it. I promise. Trust me.

The Mother blog.

There is an old adage. It's "country wisdom" mainly. It says "do not get between a mother bear and her cubs".
Because a bear is a dangerous creature but a mother bear will eat your liver and like it.
Not because she's a bear, because she's a mother.
I have seen this in action in more than just bears.

I have seen a woman with a high school education (admittedly by chance only, she shoulda been in university) educate herself on  genetics  to better communicate with doctors about her child. Genetics is not Sesame street boys and girls, it's heavy stuff. But she's a mother so stand back.
She has a blog:

http://cleverlydisguisedascake.blogspot.ca/2012/03/defining-normal_25.html

I have seen my sister, in kidney and liver failure in ICU fighting off anxiolytics and nurses cause somebody took her baby and she wanted him back. Now.

I have seen my mother threaten the life of the third grade teacher who hit me with a ruler till I had welts. And that woman was scared. If she didn't know Jesus before this incident I'm betting she found him soon after.

I have never seen my sister in law have to go nuts over her boys....but I would back her  in a fight against a fully grown man any day of the week. For reals.

Mothers stay up all night and go to work the next day. Mothers lift cars and run into burning buildings and wear macaroni necklaces to board meetings. 

There are genetic and neuro chemical reasons for the overwhelming dedication of motherhood. We don't need to go into that. It's boring. 

What my point is (and I promise there is one Internet) is that with all this genetic / neuro chemical / mother bear business floating around there are some women who don't do the job. Not even a little.

And I find this confusing. To a dizzying extent. 

What is it that would compel a woman to leave her child, unless the child would be safer? What compels women to hurt their children? Sell them? Neglect them? Kill them?

And to be clear, I'm not talking about leaving your kids to go away for the weekend. I'm talking about abandoning them, leaving toddlers to their own devices. Buying drugs instead of food. Ignoring illnesses.

I don't pretend to understand. I spend some time thanking the Creator of All that Is that I don't understand. 

I don't have kids. I have nephews. So maybe I'm not qualified to even wonder about mothers who don't look after their babies. But I am still wondering. 

I think these women who don't look after their babies must be broken. Deep down broken. 

I can't decide whether to feel sorrier for the mothers or the babies. 

Maybe I won't decide. 

Maybe I'll just hug the babies I know and be grateful for the mothers we have. 

Wanty want want. Yes indeedy.

It occurred to me the other day that I have been doing mostly posts that are kinda thinky. Like serious stuff. Heavy Emotional and thoughtful things are good, but I've only got one blog post that's kinda fun. Insufficient fun sucks.
So in this vein, Ima do a blog post about totally trivial stuff that I want. Just random crap that I would love to own and or do that may never happen. But hey. It's nice to dream.

Shoes n stuff.
I like shoes. I really really do. I like pretty shoes and pretty boots and fancy shoes and good runners. Also apparently I like expensive shoes. Who knew?

I want these:
 
These are a $2999.00 pair of Christian Louboutain  boots. I love em.

And these:

These are $995 from Christian Louboutain as well, le Sigh.

But it's not all shoes y'all I also really really really want this:

 For the bargain price of $16k. No kidding.

Ok, back to reality a little bit...cause really. If I spent $16K on a purse, I'd have to kick my own butt!

I also want to go here:

With these people:

And not just because they have this:

They've been gone since June and it's now November and nobody has spoken to me in Afrikaans in all that time.  And I miss the cats. Yeah, that's right...the cats.

Also, I'm pretty sure it's time for this chick to have some sort of vacation. 

You know that thing where you don't go to work for a while, But instead you go and do stuff that's fun. I've heard it's allll the rage. And since it's all the rage, and these guys are doing it, I should do "vacation" with people who know how.

And these guys know how:

 http://timeandtidetravels.blogspot.ca/

Mostly if I want a vacation I have to wait till somebody is available to go with me. Since going places  alone on vacation kinda would suck and people are very busy. I don't go much.

But if for some reason the boat thing doesn't work...I might scoot down here:

 To visit some cousins and my Aunti and Uncle and go here:

And here:

 and no doubt be the butt of many a Canadian joke. S'ok. I'm used to it!

In the meantime though....I'm going to settle for this:

and then after work, this:

No more "Naughty Nurses", For the love of GOD!

I've got a bit of a bee in my bonnet about this. No kidding.
The other day a local strip club burned down. Sorta random, but ok. On my twitter feed a man made the joke that unemployment rates for local single mothers and nursing students had gone up in relation to this event.
Seriously? Seriously.
Another man joined in and hardy hars were had all around.
I, of course questioned the first man: "What are you saying?"
 To which I got no reply other than another independent tweet from the first man  that he was cheeky and incorrigible.
Um, ok.
I'm a little bothered  becauseI know both of these men. I  have had conversations with them, they know me. They know I'm a Nurse. They still think this nonsense is funny.
So I was kinda chapped about the whole thing.
But I'm a thinker. I do alot of thinking. Sometimes when I ought to be sleeping.
What exactly is my problem here?
What do I care? It's two dudes on twitter making a lame joke about a strip club.
So. What?
Ok, first of all here's what my problem is NOT. Its not about sexuality. It's part of the human experience and quite frankly too often over looked  in North American culture. It's seen as dirty and to be hushed up. As a wise friend of mine once stated "We're MADE for it!! We should be doing it ALLL the time". No disagreement on that point. People would be healthier and happier if they had more sex. Ask the Dutch People. So my problem is not with the strippers.
My problem is with Nursing stereotypes in general. Which is what the joke about strippers looked like to me.
Stereotypes, turn people into soundbites. They leave no room for thoughtful consideration and if taken to the extreme keep us from experiencing  the world at large. So sayeth me.
Nursing stereotypes are particularly viscous, I find. Let's look at the biggest ones..

Angels of Mercy
Considering  Nurses as tireless, perfect angels of mercy does not leave room for our humanity. Nursing is hard, emotionally draining work.  This stereotype does not encourage Nurses to leave room in their practice for self care. This practise of self care is lacking in many nurse's practises I find. I, personally have trouble with this. I also wonder if it doesn't contribute to the issues of burnout and nurse error.

Servants of the DOCTOR
Now, this may have been true in the 1800's but the times they are a changing. We are currently a group of highly trained highly skilled professionals.  Unfortunately not everybody gets the memo. Nurses today not only work in concert with doctors we many times will direct the care. We ARE the boots on the ground. We are the eyes and ears and sometimes the brains of the operation. We trouble shoot, observe, consider options, assess treatments, suggest new treatments, reassess the outcomes, report and collaborate. The idea that we have no clinical judgement is erroneous and ignorant. It's what we do! Doctors  don't observe you  post op for signs you're in trouble. Nurses do. Doctors don't implement your plan of care. Nurses do. Doctors don't design your wound healing  protocol. Nurses do.  No nurse I know has the time to follow a Doc around being his or her servant.
Please don't misunderstand. Doctors are fantastic people. Dedicated and professional. But so are we.

Nurse Ratched
Man oh man I love this one. I've been called this myself a time or two. Mostly when I was disagreeing with someone or insisting on a level of action that I thought was right. Not just that something be done to correct a situation but that EVERYTHING be done. And done now.
Here's the problem with this one. Disagreeing with situations that I don't understand or deem inappropriate is my job. Its a mandate handed to me by the nice people who give me my license. The same people who will take that license away if a patient comes to harm under my watch in a situation that they deem I should have had some control over.
How this attitude of responsibility gets translated into the oppressive, abusive, miserable control freak that is portrayed in the movie "one flew over the cuckoos nest" is beyond me.

Which Brings us to the point

The Naughty Nymphomaniac Nurse:

This one, as far as I can see is a combination of the sweet faced angel of mercy and the empty headed doctor's handmaiden. It's about the idea that nurses are caretakers and should therefore be care taking of every aspect of a patient's care. Including the sexual aspect. It's about the idea that  if a woman is touching a person's body there must be sex involved and she must want that. I've also read that it's about the idea that men when in ill health feel insecure and must use this stereotype to gain at least the illusion of control over the women in charge of his care. Now I don't know about that part. I'll leave it up to the men to talk about.  I feel it certainly has a component of misogyny. There could be an argument made that this is a continuation of the Madonna / whore ideology.
Just a quick note here. Nurses who sleep with their patients lose their jobs and licenses.
What I'll tell you is that this lovely little stereotype can cause your average nurse no end of trouble. I've heard some nursing students say that they might not introduce themselves as nurses when meeting new people for fear of this idea.
 I've personally had to deflect the wandering hands of more than one patient who subscribed to the idea of the nurse as a whore. I've had men tell me they don't date nurses because of this. I've had men want to date me assuming I'd sleep with them right away because I'm a nurse.
Here's a question for consideration: are there  nurses out there who will quash their inherent sexuality to avoid the label of the naughty nurse?  Are we Damned if we do, damned if we don't?

 I feel these stereotypes undermine us as professionals. We can't be taken seriously if  all we are is either empty headed or  sexual vessels or raging psychotics.

Which is a damned shame considering how much of the care of patients we are responsible for and therefore have insight  into. Insight that is used to craft policies that direct care and legislation.

So consider this, Internet. The next time you want to make a naughty nurse joke: out there someplace is a woman or man who had  to spend years in school studying  their brains out who is  working overtime in a place that may look down on them for trying to take time off while fighting tooth and nail for the rights of patients and to be taken seriously as a professional who may have to fight off patients who think they're there to "service" people while your smart ass makes a crack on twitter.

Soup Nazi

I make a mean pot of soup. When I was taking my Hotel / Restaurant diploma the Chef would usually put me in charge of soups and sauces. I USED to be able to make a mean hollandaise. I probably couldn't now.

Thankfully, however I have retained my not inconsiderable ability to make soup.

I use soup a little like medicine, I have soups for specific ailments. Here are a few with their back stories.

Cold Cracking Soup.

Several years ago I had the worst head cold I've ever had. I'm sure there was a stress component but none the less I was miserable. Didn't sleep for nearly two weeks.

One day I wandered down to the Organic Underground. This was a fantastic cafe that used to be run by a friend of mine. Great spot, I still miss it.

Anywho. The resident soup maker there, Shawn had made a pot of vegan curry potato soup. He encouraged me to try a bowl. My sinuses began to clear. Just a little, but enough that I could notice it.
I adapted his recipe to suit my personal tastes and some components of Ayurveda. This soup is intended to be vegan. I find it most helpful in head cold / chest cold mucous stuff. Not so good for stomach upset.

You need:
3 large sweet potatoes or yams
1 bag shredded carrots
1 500ml carton of organic Veg broth (cause if it's not organic they put all sorts of weird crap in there)
2 tbsp of yellow curry paste
2 cloves garlic, diced
1 piece of peeled ginger, thumb sized, diced

Peel and cube the sweet potatoes. Cook the curry paste, garlic, ginger  in some olive oil until they become fragrant. Add the potato cubes and carrots. Turn the potatoes and carrots in the spice mix until well coated. Add the carton of veg broth and boil until the sweet potato is cooked. Puree.

You may add extra ginger and garlic if you like. I usually crank them up until they are almost too much depending on the amount of mucous you have. This soup seems to have a sinus draining mucous thinning effect.

Bone Broth
This one is an old family recipe. I'm not sure where it came from. We just make it. We make it for people who have been ill, are weak and need to be "built up". I will many times give it to Nanny.

You need
 Beef marrow bones (I get these from the butcher or abattoir. The grocery store wants WAAYY too much for them.)
 1 500 ml Organic Beef broth (yes, organic. AGAIN)
2 onions chopped large.
a bag of baby carrots
 2 cloves garlic

Put the beef marrow bones, chopped onions, baby carrots and garlic on a baking sheet. Throw them in the oven at 350 until cooked. The marrow should look like fat inside the bones
 Pour it all (and any fat that accumulates) in a large pot.
Cover with cold broth
Boil, then reduce  to simmering for 30 min.
Pull the bones out of the pot with  a fork, put them on a plate and dig out any marrow from inside the bones that remains. Put the marrow back in the pot. Puree.

Potato Soup

This is another old family recipe. It's very good for an unhappy tummy. Sits well and rarely causes digestive upset. I serve it with buttered toast.

You need
2 large potatoes, peeled and cubed
A hand full of baby carrots.
butter
milk

Cook the cubes of potato and carrots in water until soft. Drain most of the water leaving approximately 1/3 of the total volume. Add butter and milk to the pot. Mash the potatoes until they are a consistency you like. Add more milk if the potatoes are too thick.

Cheaters Chicken Soup

Now I like chicken soup. I mean, really. Who doesn't What I don't want is to wait all day for it. So I created a cheater's way to make it FANTASTIC. This is great if a friend is sick and you want to help out.Good for General Colds and The Flu

You need:
I bbq chicken from the grocery store. (no, really)
1 500 ml carton of organic chicken broth (AGAIN)
frozen corn nib lets, about a cup
a hand full of dried spaghettini
two green onions, chopped.

Discombobulate the chicken. I mean like tear it all apart and cut it into bite sized pieces. White and dark meat too. Put the chicken in your soup pot. Cover it with the broth. Bring to a boil. Add the corn niblets. Bring back to a boil. Add the spaghettini  and cook until soft. Add the chopped green onion.

 Chili Con Carne

Now this is not a medicinal soup. But it rocks. This recipe has won awards. I didn't win the award mind you, the recipe was borrowed. But whatever. Good chili is good chili. This goes very well over a baked potato to make a whole meal.

You need:
A Texas sized Cast Iron Skillet. I'm sorry, it's just better this way
Three thick cut slices of pancetta (bacon is not the same...but in a pinch will do)
1lb lean ground beef (or venison if you prefer)
1 lb ground pork.
1 5oo ml can of fire roasted tomatoes
1 can kidney beans
1 can chickpeas
1 can navy beans
1 onion diced
2 cups dried mushroom pieces
2 cloves garlic
1 package non msg chili spice mix.(msg is just garbage, you can get chili spice mix in the organic section. I KNOW organic again)

ok, turn on the oven, yes the oven to 350. . Dice the onion and pancetta. Begin soaking the dried mushrooms in hot water. Brown the pancetta until crispy. take it out of the pan, leave the fat. Brown the onion. Brown the beef, then the pork. Drain all the meat. put the meat back in the pan. Add the garlic, and chili spices. Brown until the mix becomes fragrant. Add the soaking mushrooms WITH the water. Add the beans, and the tomatoes.
Throw the whole thing in the oven at 350 for an hour. If it's too thin, add some tomato paste. But not too much, the point of the chili is the meat and beans, not the tomatoes.
Very good over corn bread too!

the trouble with Retarded.

In the past two weeks, I've been exposed to two celebrities who were using the word retarded. One was using it as part of her comedy shtick one was using it to drum up attention for her chosen political candidate.

Now, I have some experience with the special needs community. I  work with special needs individuals, have for years. Also some of the people I love have special needs. So I've got me some opinions and reactions to the use of the word retarded.

I am, however a thinker. I do a lot of thinking.  Sometimes when I ought to be sleeping.

What's the trouble with calling someone retarded? It's just a word, right? It could be considered to be technically correct. A person with a physical or developmental delay does fit the Miriam Webster definition of retarded.

The problem, as I see it is the weight of the word. It's a label. It's no longer associated with the Miriam Webster definition. It now contains judgement.

It's limiting. Calling someone retarded defines them in your mind. They are retarded and that's all. It minimizes people.

I know this because I've been called retarded. A teacher in my life told my parents I was retarded and "people like you don't graduate high school"

That moment, when I was 8 defined me and my self view for years afterword. I was 27 before I realised that I do not, in fact have a developmental delay. Turns out, that woman was mean, just plain mean. As a child I did not want to interact with her and refused to answer her questions and she decided that meant I was delayed.

But the issue was hers. Cause I'm actually kinda smart.

I'm lucky.  I was able right my self perception and regain my confidence.

But what if I had actually had a delay? What if I was at the mercy of people who are like the two self serving individuals above? What if I couldn't speak to tell anybody what that label had done to my heart?

The results may well have been, and probably are horrifying.

Imagine if you will living in a place where you don't speak the language and every one moves quicker than you. Now some of these people don't like you and you don't know why. Because you don't speak the language. But you can feel the judgement. It's like a weight on your chest and you have no defence.

No defence as you struggle to do all the same things that others are doing. It's so easy for them. Maybe you feel sick alot. And the people are so mean.

Every single day is a monumental effort in this place where people don't like you.

As far as I'm concerned the people who live this struggle, with more often than not a sunny disposition deserve our respect for the efforts they must put out to exist in a world not kind to them.

 If we are smart, we will use the example of these special people on how to be grateful and live in the moment and feel joy and persevere..

If we are not smart we will use this word, this limiting small ignorant word to prop ourselves up on the backs of people who deserve better.

FASHION WEEK!!!!!

I have a friend named Christina. My friend Christina is lucky. Not the "hey I found a $10 bill on the ground" lucky. More like "I won a $1000 shopping spree at Gap" and "I won three tickets to Master Card World Fashion Week"
NO. KIDDING.
Fashion Week, in Toronto. With Girlfriends. It's like so very Sex and The City. Except I ain't Carrie, y'all!
As soon as I saw the tweet from Christina I called her. "Are you freaking kidding me?!?!?"
Apparently not, we were going to the first night of fashion week. Courtesy of Ceasarstone Canada! http://www.caesarstone.ca/en/Pages/default.aspx
Which, naturally is when the panic set in.
See, here's the thing Internet. Fashion does not come easily to me.
I can put an outfit together on a dummy in the store. No problem.
I can match accessories to outfits practically with my eyes closed.
But finding clothes to put on this body? Um.......yeah.
Here's the problem, Internet. I'm in between. I'm at the bottom end of plus sized and the top end of regular sized. Also, I lift people for a living and carry nephews whenever possible. So trying to find clothes to fit around my arms and shoulders is daunting. Now, I'm sure that there is a perfect website or store for these problems. So far I haven't found it.
So I get fashion anxiety. Just a little bit.
And apparently going to Fashion week makes this worse. I had no frame of reference. What does one wear?!?!
Panic.
I called my BFF for advice. She's been to fashion week, in Paris. She advised a simple black dress with some pop out colour and a great bag. Um...I don't have a GREAT bag for night. I have coach bags cause my sister loves me. But they're not night bags.
So my BFF lent me her Dior. SHUT UP!

So, I'm dressed, make up on, hair done, bag ready.
In the car with Christina and the always charming Kay.
On the 401, zooming to fashion week. Holt Renfrew! Pink Tartan! Pavoni!!!!!
Construction.
Late for Holt Renfrew.
 Don Valley Parking Lot.
Missing Holt Renfrew.
Skidding in to the Big Tent just as Holt Renfrew is about half way done.
Thankfully, John the rep for Caesarstone our sponsor is an amazing friendly man and was able to meet us and give us our passes. We were IN!

OMG!!!!!!
I was not the tallest woman in the room suddenly!!!
Booths by Mabelline, Essie, Caesarstone, the list goes on and and on!

Swag bags every time we turned around, filled with coupons and free samples and great magazines and catalogues.
The CaesarStone booth was particularly fantastic! Macaroons!!!!

On to the Pink Tartan Show! So exciting! Well dressed people milling about looking for their seats. I was struck by how friendly and polite they were. Not one rude glance in a crowded room full of people looking for their seats. Wow.

The Pink Tartan show was amazing. Lots of pale pink and pale mint green for Spring 2013. Pale mint is good. I'm not much of a pink girl. I couldn't get very many shots of the models, I was too busy gawking but here's one of the great looks!

http://pinktartan.com/

After Pink Tartan, a little break for frree wine samples, red or white and a free hot stone hand massage!!!! Wow! I could get used to this. Maybe I'll petition my boss for free hot stone hand massages at work!
On to the Pavoni Show.

I was totally amazed at how in just a 30 minute break the same runway could be transformed!
The show was everything it promised to be. Breathtaking dresses,

Crazy music, crowds of people

http://www.pavonicollection.com/home.html
Yards, and yards and yards of Tulle and I swear every bead in North America!
Too soon it was time to go home.
Totally tired.
Totally happy!
Thanks so much to Christina and Kay for inviting me and travelling with me! Thanks to Caesarstone for the tickets  and  thanks to MasterCard World Fashion week for the experience!

Nursing Pearls of Wisdom.

I have been nursing for coming on 10 years.
I've spent most of this time in community nursing with a brief stint in retirement homes. I've been to the Arctic and Manitoulin Island and every where in my county from top to bottom.
I've seen some stuff. Not everything there is to see, mind you. But some stuff.
Over this time and in pursuit of my job I've come across some Pearls of Wisdom. Some of it is "common knowledge" some of it speciality knowledge. As always, this is my opinion. Any part you don't like feel free to write down  on a piece of paper in detail, outlining your concerns, then eat.

WASH YOUR @#$%^& HANDS!!!

 Only 50% of what you are going to do every day as a nurse is of a technical nature.
 Only 50%. The other 50% MUST be you sharing your humanity. Otherwise you're doing it wrong. Sorry to all the Nursing Instructors out there who argue that Nursing is a high skills profession. That's not the heart of it. The heart of it is the connection to people.

It follows then that if you truly do not like or want to help people, go work someplace else.
Seriously, you're taking a job or college seat from someone who dreams of being there. Scoot.

Beware of the urge to "fix".
In respecting people we strive to give them their independence. The roll of nursing is never to make people dependent on us, but to show them how to be self sufficient to the best of their abilities.

You are your best tool.
I don't care where you work or how many high technical tools  you have at your disposal your best tools are your eyes, ears and hands. Focus on your patients and pay attention.

Shut up and listen.
In this vein; you have to listen to your patients and their families. If you listen they will many times tell you what the issue is. I once had a lady who supposedly had lost her sense of smell tell me the body wash I was washing her with smelled nice. Upon investigation her daughter told me of  a major family trauma that had recently happened. Then she commented to me "I've told you more about my mom in 20 minutes that I've had a chance to tell anybody else in three days" Here's a hint: the underlying cause of the loss of sense of smell was psych based and not the tumour they were looking for.


You are not too good to do personal care.
I don't give a rat's ass if you have a degree or not. Nurses do personal care. Don't like it? Go work someplace else.

You are not better than any person on your team.
PSW's HCA's and UCP's are on your team . I've learned more from veteran care providers that I did in some clinical placements. In many cases these team members have more face time with patients than you do and therefore notice more.

Always ask "Why?"
It is never a good excuse to say "that's the way I was told to do it". Any policy, procedure or order you are given must always be put through the filter of "Why?". More than once I have seen procedures done in a way that represents an increased risk of harm because nobody asked why. Asking why is your job.

It is not your job, to judge people.
Especially your patients. It is incumbent upon every nurse to understand  his or her own personal bias and either correct themselves, educate themselves or not practise in an environment where their personal bias will  affect their patients. The last last last thing ill people need is your judgement. Get over yourself.

Nursing is not a popularity contest.
In fact, if you're doing it right you're gonna make people edgy some days. That's what comes from asking why, advocating for patients and refusing to do things wrong. 

You are never NOT a nurse.
Never. Once people learn you are a Nurse your actions will be used to judge nursing as a whole. Remember that when the drink specials are good or somebody cuts in front of you in line. Just act right.

Nursing is not for wussies.
You will encounter feces, urine, blood, mucous, infected exudate, feet and the recently deceased. They are your bread and butter. If you can't handle it, go work in the mall.

You must take time for Self Care.
This is non negotiable. Your patient's outcomes will depend on whether you are able to be focused, attentive and present when you work. You cannot give someone a drink if the well is dry.

Medical Jargon is not always appropriate
So you're learning a new language, it's called medicalese. Big deal. Use it to talk to doctors and other nurses. Don't use it with patients if there is a real world alternative. People are already scared and stressed if they have to have a nurse. Medical talk may only serve to increase this stress because they can't even understand the words that are coming out of your mouth.

WASH YOUR #$%^^& HANDS   

If this is all there is.....

I went to a party tonight for my Grandmother's 100th birthday. It was a good, old fashioned potluck old timey party. There were git-tars and cake and babies running around playing with balloons.  We filled the hall with people, we're a big family.
Cousins as far as the eye could see, Internet. Seriously.
Now i don't know how the topic came up, it was a noisy chaotic room. Suddenly one of my favourite cousins ( I said ONE of, don't get yer knickers in a knot other cousins) turned to me and said "life is too short.". Naturally my reply was "for what?"
"To spend it alone"
Well, hell.
This got me thinking, dontcha hate that?
Ok. Here's some background. I'm 36 this year and have never been married or had any kids. Now in my family that's a bit of an anomaly. Historically I've been a bit, shall we say, self conscious of this.
There may have been, at one time or another, suggestions made to help me along the path to husband land. Nothing recent. Nothing in front of my Mother or sister, as Armageddon would have surely followed.
Now I want to be very clear here, Internet. My cousin loves and respects me. I know this as surely and deeply as I know the sun will rise tomorrow. He has recently found his soulmate and he wants that for me.
I'm relaying the history to give you a framework for my thoughts on this topic. Cause I'm a thinker. I think alot. Sometimes when I ought to be sleeping.
 I explained to my cousin that indeed, a soulmate would be fantastic. I have no qualms in that direction. I told him some of my hair raising dating stories, and he empathized.
The love of his life, whom we all adore for more than her cheesecake making I swear, said to me that she firmly believes that there is someone for everyone. Someone perfect.
To which I replied automatically "but maybe there's not"
Cause maybe, Internet. There isn't.
Naturally this caused another round of thinking. Damned brain.
What if, as Jack Nicholson famously quipped,this is all there is?
How do I feel if this right now, is the card I've drawn?
Well, I'll tell you internet.  In that moment I decided I feel pretty damned fine about it.
Would I like a partner? Sure.
But I promise you, Internet as I promised him. I have no holes in me. I am intact.
This is a bit of a revelation for me. I used to walk around feeling incomplete. Like parts were left on the factory floor.
So the plan is, and there is a plan since I'm a thinker; to continue to Aunt / sister/ friend / nurse / coworker to the highest level possible. Also vacation more. That is all. Well, except for maybe some Archery lessons. Gonna need skills for the Zombie apocalypse.

Thank you cards for Jerks.

I have a cousin who manages a card store. I think I'll wander down and see her. Cause if anybody can point me to a card that thanks people for being jerks, it's her.

I feel it's important to thank people who help you out. People who teach you and help form your path. Its a new concept for me to want to thank difficult people. I used to pour vitriol upon them. Sometimes in person, mostly inside my head. Then one day I read a quote that stated "hating people is like drinking poison and expecting others to become ill."

Ain't that the truth, Internet?

So I started thinking. I do that sometimes. Sometimes when I ought to be sleeping.

What do we learn from easy times and compatible people? Other than how to enjoy joy, not much.

It is the difficult times and the hard angled people that teach us. I'm not saying that people should be jerks, I think that people should endeavour to minimise their jerkiness. What I'm saying (and I've said it before) is that with any horrible terrible no good very bad thing; or person, you can learn something valuable if you choose.

SO, you ask. What have I learned from jerks? Well, Internet, let me tell you.

I have learned that sometimes fate puts people in your way to show you how NOT to be.

I have learned that being treated like dirt won't kill me. I don't like it. But it won't kill me. I will survive.

I have learned what it looks like when someone STARTS treating me like dirt. It usually starts slow, yes? Rarely do jerks come out the gate full force, in my experience.

I have learned my limits. I have a long fuse. Maybe too long. But I have learned not to let the fuse run out, cause the explosion is some kinda fugly.

I have learned to stand up. To go up to a jerk like individual and say "you see this thing that you're doing? It ain't gonna fly. You're done"

I have learned how to mean that.

I have learned that sometimes it's just best to walk away. 

I have learned that when you are free of a jerk, hind sight is always 20/20 and not to take it too seriously.

I have learned that despite what the jerks would have me believe the jerkiness wasn't about me. It was about whatever nasty movie reel is playing in the jerk's head. I was merely the screen for the movie. Jerkiness is rarely personal.

I learned the above because...wait for it...I have learned I have a certain amount of value in this world.

I guess I could have learned the value thing from the good times and lovely people. But I'm stubborn, see? I don't learn very well it seems, when the lesson is easy.

Nope, I gotta do it the hard way. Blame my Irish / Scottish ancestry. Blame the Red tint in my hair. Who knows?

I'm hoping that the Jerk Cards, when I find them have flowers and kitties and stuff on em. That's just funny to me. 

COOOFFEE!!!!

I love coffee. This is not a secret facet of my personality as I sit here with my Venti.
I love good coffee, life is too short for bad coffee.
Now, don't get me wrong, I like tea too. We're a good English/Irish/Scottish family, we drink tea. But tea is a night time thing. On the porch during a thunderstorm. When somebody dies, make a pot of tea and dig out the rum.
Coffee however, is a morning thing. It's dawn on that same front porch getting ready for a road trip. It's "I've been up all night doing god knows what and it's time to pay the piper and go to work".
For me, coffee is social. I like to get the girls together for the occasional "sip n bitch". With the girls sometimes we sip wine. But more often we hang out at Starbucks till the staff, oh so politely kicks us out.Usually at closing time. After we've been there for five hours or so.
I love the smell of coffee. It smells like home, and fun and laughter.
I love hot coffee in the winter, I love to wrap my hands around a hot mug of coffee when there's frost on the ground.
Coffee is cultural. Would Canada BE Canada without our sea to shining sea Tim Horton's?
 Would Italy be the same if you DIDN'T have to have  four years of  training and a License to  be a Barrista? Probably not.
I know Every place to get good coffee in this county. As a visiting nurse you need to know these things...it's a job requirement.
In Belleville, always Starbucks. These guys know me by name, drink, mood. Fantastic staff. Sweet escapes downtown is also fantastic.
In Trenton, the Grind. Also, fantastic desserts.
In Centre Hastings it's "Amazing Coffee in Madoc. The name says it all. Ask for a maple latte. You won't be disappointed
Stirling Has West Wings and the Bakery. But they also have Jenny's country lane. Now Jenny doesn't do the coffee drinks but her perk has never been bad.
Bancroft. Well, Bancroft doesn't have any Coffee Bar type places that I know of. They have two Tim Horton's which will do quite nicely. What they DO have is the Bancroft Bed and Breakfast. I stay with the Wishlows every time I'm in the 'croft. Never once had a bad breakfast or bad cup of coffee with Ken and Kathy.
I have a co worker who is opening a B+B in Frankford. Joe and I have frequently discussed the need for top notch coffee at a B&B. I am confident, since Joe is a smart man, that J+J's B+B will be above average in the coffee department. 


 

A letter to my Nephews.

I read a blog not so long ago in which a man wrote a letter to his hypothetically gay son. It really got to me that a man would put in writing what he planned to do to support his son. It said to me that regardless of what the future holds, this man intends to do what he can to help his boy. And he means to be held accountable to that intention by the son himself.
Now, I don't have any children. 
What I have, as anybody who has read this blog can attest, is nephews. I have four of them. Soon to have five. I take my job as their aunt very seriously.
Seriously enough to make them some promises and put those promises on line. So that if I fall down on the job they can pull these things up and hold me accountable to the aunt job. This is by no means a statement of my faith in the boy’s parents; they have fantastic parents. This is what I mean to do as Aunt Jen.

Hello my loves.
This is your promise list. If you ever find I'm not keeping my promises to you, I expect one of you to print this out and bring it to me to remind me.

I promise to love you all the days of my life. Gay, straight, religious, atheist, right wing, left wing, anarchist or conformist. You are my boys and that will not change.

I promise to respect you. You are people even when you are small.

I promise to get to know who you are, not expect you to be who I want.

I promise to be your safe place. If sometimes you need a break from your parents never for a moment think you have no place to go. I am that place.

I promise to help with your education. Education is important but being saddled with huge debts when you’re done is stressful. I'll do what I can.

I promise to kick your butts as hard, if not harder than your parents. Never for a moment think that just because your mom and dad didn't see you do something it's cool. The world is a rough place for people who don't learn right from wrong. I would be remiss in my job if I let you think you can get away with being a jerk.

I promise to let you be boys. Being a boy is not always encouraged in today's world. It's perfectly fine with me if you are boys. Go ahead, get dirty, run around like heathens, do what you need to do to be boys.

I promise to bring the fun as often as possible. I expect you to behave, not be boring.

I promise to tell you the truth. About sex, drugs, rock n roll, life, history, anything you ask me about. I may tell you something is none of your business, but I will never lie to you.

I promise to sneak you candy. It's your mom and dad's jobs to keep your sugar intake low. It's mine to see you get some candy. Good candy though, life is too short for cheap candy.

I promise to embarrass the hell out of you at your sporting events. I will wear colours and bring air horns. Sorry dudes, aunt's prerogative. 

I promise to grow fangs and claws if anybody messes with you. I will bring seven kinds of crazy.

I promise to tell you straight out if the girls you date are hussies. Your parents may need to be politically correct. I don't have to be.

I promise to pick you up if you call me. Two o'clock in the morning or two in the afternoon. If you're at the police station, though call your parents 'cause I'll kill ya. You call me BEFORE the cops get involved.

Love Aunt Jen. (or mean Aunt Jen as some of you may call me)

The Illusion of Separateness

I enjoy the Buddhist religion, I am not a Buddhist, but I appreciate them.
The Buddhists believe that we, the people of the earth, are not separate entities. That the idea that we are separate entities is a psychological constructs that causes suffering.
Some facets of theoretical physics support this idea. Since we are all made of the same stuff on a sub atomic level, we cannot therefore be separate.
These are ideas that I am very comfortable with. The idea that while I have skin that separates me from those around me, we are not really separate.
This idea comes with a certain amount of responsibility as far as I'm concerned, and I wonder if this is why people reject the idea.
If my behavior affects those around me, then I am responsible to behave in a way to minimize their discomfort. Now, in fairness, some people will tell you that EVERY THING people do makes them uncomfortable. I also feel it's the responsibility of the individual to look inside themselves and work out why they are uncomfortable and take a responsibility for their reactions.
It would be great, in my opinion if people took these theories to heart. I think people would be more responsible.
If people really internalized the idea that their behavior affected others on a visceral, emotional level would they be more thoughtful in their actions? I would hope so.
Would you steal from someone if you understood the feeling of violation that followed that? Really understood it? What if you had to live with that feeling as a consequence?
Would you cut people off in traffic if you had to feel the frustration that behavior produces?
Would the internal drivers that produce the urge to drink to excess, use illicit drugs, over eat, and otherwise self abuse be as strong if people understood the worry, pain, anguish and grief these things cause in those that love them? I would hope not.
I admit to being confused as to why people don't get this.
I'm very well aware that if I decide to go out and pick a fist fight and get my ass handed to me and end up in the hospital that affects my family. It affects everyone who knows me.
Have you ever gotten a call that a friend has been the victim of violence? What did that call do to your insides? Did you sleep well that night? Were you able to focus on the next day?
I cannot do those things. I'm up all night and blurry the next day.
Maybe I'm just a worrier.
I have three cousins who are police officers. Every time I see a cruiser fly by me with lights flashing I worry about the three of them. Even though they are fully functional grown men with years of experience, I get a very clear picture of what would happen to my family if they were injured or god forbid, killed.
I feel the anguish of my best friend whose oldest child has a feeding disorder and doesn't eat.
I feel, on a visceral level my sister's frustration over her career.
I feel my brother's joy at the prospect of a new son.
They feel my grief at the loss of my nephew. They feel it. Maybe not as strong as my own, but it's there. It affects them.
So since what I feel affects them, and what they feel affects me, why then would I ever go out and put myself at risk? I'm also putting them at risk, since we are not separate.
What would the world be like if everybody was Buddhist? Or at least used this philosophy as a guide post for actions? Maybe there wouldn't be war. Could you kill a man if you had to feel his mother's grief?
Would there be rape?
Would there be the victimization of the poor?
Hell, would people be more inclined to smile more?

Anthony 's Cafe

Not long ago I did a post about customer service. I said it was a rare thing and I stand by that. When I listed places that provide it, however, I missed one spot. I kind of feel like a jerk about it, but hey. I'm fixing it now.
Maybe I missed Anthony's due to some subconscious need to set it apart from the other spots I've mentioned, it's pretty special to me.
I've known Kim and John the owner/operators of Anthony's for nearly 10 years. They know food. They know good food. They serve great food from scratch. This is food I've never worried would trip my food sensitivity switch and give me a migraine. Food I can count on.
Food I can count on is a special thing.
Anthony's is a special spot.
But I, admittedly am biased.
Anthony's was named after John and Kim's great nephew. Anthony died Jan 2011. He was 11.
I had known Anthony since he was about 4. He was born with Cerbral Palsey and spent his life in a wheelchair. He did not walk, he did not talk, he did not feed himself.
What he did do was affect the lives of those around him in profound ways. Ways that go all the way to the bone.
He was always excited to see me. He would yell and flail his little arms until I came over to his chair and gave him a kiss. Sometimes he would yell and stick his tongue out until I licked his face. Don't ask, it was an Anthony and Aunt Jen thing.
He thought it was an absolute riot when I showed up in a bathing suit one day to help his mother shower him. He laughed so long and so hard he ended up with shower water in his mouth.
His brother was his best friend. They would curl up together in his big bed and watch movies for hours.     He loved the Flintstones.
The day he died was the worst day of my life. The rest of that week wasn't any hell either.
But as with any horrible rotten no good very bad thing, we can learn lessons if we choose to. I learned what shapes family can take. I learned that I'm stronger than I ever thought I was, because I can still get up and get dressed and function if my heart is shredded. I leaned some things matter but many more do not. Not really.
I've learned that the grief and confusion of a child who lost his best friend is the most horrible thing on earth.

I'm not sure how I started writing about good food and ended up writing about a little boy who was lost too early except to say they're tied together for me. Kim and John named their cafe Anthony's to honour the memory of a little guy whom they loved and love still. They pour that same attention into feeding people. If you go to Anthony's, and I think you should, get the hamburger. And say hello to Anthony.

on the porch with Keitha

My grandmother's name is Keitha.
She is 100 years old this year. We're having a party for that, naturally. How many people turn 100? How many can remember the years  of their lives?
Keitha can.
Me: nanny, do you remember the depression?
Nanny: yup, it wasn't good, I'll tell you that. We did ok because my father had animals and a farm. We had a neighbour who got lost for 5 days.
Me: How did you find him?
Nanny: I don't know the dog and the horse found him.

My nanny has a way of telling stories like nobody I've ever known. She will start one story and it turns into another. She also has a quick wit about her. Even at 100.

Nanny: Jenny (she's the only one who gets away with that, so don't bother starting) you're not married
Me: I know nanny
Nanny: we need to fix that and get you a husband
Me: Well, gee nanny, that would be swell. Where do you think we'll find one of those?
Nanny: We'll go for a drive and see if we can find one in the ditch
Me: Well Nanny. I don't know if I want a ditch husband, I think I'd like me one of those centre of the road husbands.
Nanny: Oh, honey, I think they're all gone by this time.

Nanny had 11 children. 13 pregnancies. When you never weigh more that 100lbs in a wet wool sweater that's alot of babies.
Hell, that's alot of babies for anybody.
Today we're sitting on the porch watching the cars. Nanny is enjoying the sun and the breeze. Maybe that's the secret to a long life. Just enjoying the sun and the breeze. In the moment.
I know I have a hell of a time staying in the moment. My brain won't shut up. I'm conjecturing, extrapolating, planning, plotting, remembering and worrying.

I don't know if Nanny wants a party. She told me last year she'd croak to get out of one. I sure hope she doesn't. It promises to be a blast.

Life would be a little less interesting without Nanny. She likes miso soup. She misses our old dog too.
She'll crook the "crooked finger of doom" at you if you're not careful and behave. The crooked finger of doom will bring a grown man to his knees so she can pull his ears. I've seen it.

She offered to put on her big boots and go talk to my boss about getting me a raise. My money is on her against Corporate Canada. No, really.

Nanny is spooky sometimes too. She'll tell you she dreamt about a person and within the day...sometimes two that person will call or drop in. Every damned time.

She gives me her pearls of wisdom every now and then.

"Jenny (don't start) a good man doesn't have to tell you how good he is. You just know. If he has to tell you, he probably isn't"
"Jenny, a loud man isn't a scary man. It's the quiet ones you have to watch"
"Never ride a horse you haven't looked in the face. They need to know you or they might throw you"

Nanny tells me lots of the lessons she's learnt. This is valuable stuff.
I get to learn them because Nanny has been in my life all my life. I stayed with her when I was a child and a teen and then she moved in with us when she was 90.

I worry sometimes about all those people in retirement homes. What kind of wisdom do they have that we are missing out on? What stories and experiences and pearls of wisdom?
I think we are poorer for it.
Thankfully I am fairly rich in this.

A Eulogy for Dorothy Jean

Not so long ago we had to have our family dog Dorothy Jean put down. It was a tough call, she was 13 years old but up until the evening before we put her down had been fairly healthy albeit fat.

I got a call from my sister to say Mom and Dad were taking her to the vet most likely to put her down. She had stopped drinking and eating two days before and the night before the call had cried all night.

She was in pain.

I rearranged my work schedule to go spend some time with her. She was on the floor in her spot between the couch and nanny's chair. Her nose was warm and dry and her eyes a little dull. But she wagged her spotty stubby tail when she saw me. I laid down on the floor and petted her face to face for a while.

It took three of us coaxing and finally Dad carrying to get her in the truck. She was in rough shape.

Dorothy was a fantastic dog. A good old girl.

She was born in my parent's house in the basement. My Dad and his Brother had decided to breed English Springer Spaniels. Naturally that meant the women in the house had a pile of work to do.

When Dorothy was born she was in the middle of the pack. Not too small, not too big. We called her number 5. There were 10 pups. She was hand raised with rest of them. Bottle fed and snuggled.

Eventually all the pups got old enough to sell. So naturally there was an interview process. You couldn't just walk into our yard and give us $500 for a dog. You had to pass a personality test, show us an income statement and convince us you had the right cut of jib for our dogs.

They all went. Fully papered CKC registered English Springer Spaniels.

We chose  a lady for  #5. She had other dogs she claimed and said #5 would fit right in.

She was gone for about a month. Then the lady called. She said #5 was sick. Had been to her vet and deemed genetically unfit. She peed constantly and always would. She was not what the lady had paid for.

Thereafter there was a flurry of telephone calls between the lady and my mother that ended with my mother's declaration of "bring her home". She was gone about 9 weeks.

And home she came. I will probably never forget that day.

The car pulled up and they took a crate out of the back. Inside was a shivering shaking spotty dog. They opened the door and she began to limp out.

"why is she limping?" from my mother
"She caught her paw in the crate" was the reply

"why is she filthy?" I asked
"she's incontinent" was the answer.

The spotty dog saw me sitting in the entryway and began to scream. Have you ever heard a dog scream? I have and it broke my heart.
And infuriated my mother.
"Here's your money" she told the lady

And the lady made the mistake of making some kind of noise about keeping the dog. I don't know for sure cause I had a spotty shivering screaming filthy dog wrapped around my neck.

I do remember my mother saying "Lady, you better get out of my yard. The dog stays."

Thankfully I was wearing shorts that day. Cause filthy dog and I got in the tub. It took a long time to get her clean. She kissed me the whole time.

She never went anywhere again. My Uncle made a suggestion that she could be re-sold. I explained to him that since I had put the ad in the paper and helped screen the phone calls and the people I felt I had earned a dog. Really I just couldn't bear to put her in another car. I may have taken some tone with him. Maybe.

I saw the lady again a month or so later. She asked about the dog. I said the dog was fine. She asked if we were having another breeding litter. My response was "lady, it will be hockey night in Hades before you get another dog from us." Then I walked away. Cause really, smacking people is illegal.

We debated about what to call her. She had a spot on the top of her head and before she left my mom had been calling her "dotty". My sister flat out refused to call her that. "I'm not standing in the yard screaming Dotty. The neighbours will think I've lost my mind. It's stupid."

The debate carried on. "What's the long form of Dotty?" My sister asked "what's it a pet name for?"
Well, Dorothy.
My sister declared that a dog who crossed her paws when she laid down should have two names like a lady.  She chose Jean as the second name.
And so we registered her as Miss Dorothy Jean of Nunn

Dorothy had a damned good life. She had some ups and downs. An emergency puppy hysterectomy. Several UTI's. Cancer removed from her paw. Ear infections.

But she only ever peed in our house twice. Both times were people's faults. If we had listened to her she would have made it. Hell, she used to wake me up at 2 am crying by the bed asking out.

She became dad's girlfriend. She would wait for him to come home from work. Laying on the mat by the door. She became mom's gardening companion, she loved to eat beans. She became nanny's foot warmer. She would sit on nanny's feet and let herself be petted. Even when nanny put her fingers in Dorothy's eyes cause nanny  is blind Dorothy never curled a lip.

She never curled a lip when kids on the street threw sticks at her. I did though.

She only ever bit the neighbour kid. But in fairness he smacked my butt. She would get in between us if we were having an argument. Her poor little face would get so anxious that we had no choice but to stop.

She loved the sprinklers, was terrified of thunderstorms.

I was nervous when my brother and his wife brought their first baby to mom and dad's. Dorothy had never been around babies, would she be ok?

She basically ignored the small human. Till he cried. Then she licked him.

She mourned for a month when we had to put black dog down. Then again when I moved out.
 Is it stupid to be so sad for a dog?
Well, how about for a gentle happy soul?
I know the religious people say dogs don't have souls.

I have a different opinion about that. I'm pretty sure you can't get into heaven (or what ever the good place after this one is) unless animals vouch for you. I think they are the gate keepers.

Hold the door for us old girl, we'll see you in a while.

Customer service.

It seems to me that customer service is hard to come by lately and therefore should be celebrated. I came to this conclusion in a haze of Xanex induced fog shortly after my laser vision correction surgery. Now for those of you who don't know, Xanex is how God tells us it's alllll gonna be ok.

But back to the surgery. I'd been wearing glasses since the 6th grade. Astigmatism in both eyes. Blind as a bat (not really but close enough to count).

I decided to get the surgery in May. Went to Lasik MD, filled out the form and was on my way.
There were telephone discussions with sales people. There was an assessment appointment. I qualified for surgery and financing and we were booked.
Then the nerves set in. See, I get a little claustrophobic. Just enough to make the dentist and something like eye surgery nerve wracking.  I also needed somebody to drive me to surgery. I was booked for Ottawa, about three hours away by car.

So being a planner I called Lasik and spoke to Sue three weeks before surgery to see if she thought I should book a hotel in Ottawa for how many days? The day of, the next and possibly one more?
Her reply "why don't you just take the bus?"

Now I wasn't interested in climbing on the Grey Hound for a three hour ride home after eye surgery and I told her so. She replied  "We have our own bus".
Ladies and Gentlemen I cannot tell you how much that settled my mind. The transportation issue was taking on nightmarish proportions for me. It loomed.

The day of surgery was well oiled machine smooth. No kidding. On the bus for 8:30, on the road by 9, lunch courtesy of Lasik at 11 and movie on board. To the Ottawa clinic. Sue and Jamie there to answer any questions, calm any fears and instruct us on the use of the Keurig machine.

Sue handed out the Xanex (thank you Baby Jesus). Jamie prepped for the procedure. Surgery by a fantastic kind surgeon (and really how often do we get to say THAT?) then after a slightly embarrassing Xanex induced nap in the waiting room, back on the bus.

All the way home Sue and Jamie prompted caregivers to give certain eye drops at certain times, delivered the drops for those who had no caregivers, handed out cold facecloths, bottled water and snacks. They even looked after my mom with snacks and drinks.

Now you may be thinking "WTH? does this chick work for Lasik MD?" I sure don't. I receive nothing from them for this blog post. I am just so appreciative of the customer service.

As I lay on the bus in the afore mentioned Xanax fog I wondered "where else do I get service like this?" I came up with a few spots. My local Starbucks for instance, they constantly have my caffeine deprived back. Bellevegas Boardroom in my hometown and one shop at the mall.

That is it.
That is all.
And I though about it.

And I feel a little sad about that. You see, I've worked customer service. Did it for years. I've worked in the mall, at resorts and doing home sales. Customer service is not hard. It is not complicated.

In fact, it's fairly rewarding, raging jerks aside. Much more rewarding than getting it wrong, screwing up orders and ignoring people.

I wonder, are people no longer able to do customer service? Do we work too fast for basic communication to take root? That's all customer service is, you see. Good communication. A warm greeting. Listening hard, finding the issue and the solution that makes someone feel they got their money's worth.

Which breeds repeat customers and referrals. Any purchase is mostly about the experience so I would think that companies would train and train hard their front line staff for customer service.

I'm not seeing it, however. Fast food places get my order wrong, clothing stores ignore me when  I have a pocket full of cash.

It's too bad really. Cause I have a big mouth, y'all. I'm sending people to Lasik MD, Starbucks, and Bellevegas Boardroom left right centre and sideways.