enough with the photos already, I want to WHINGE!
Ok, a few whinges.
1. I was reading Julie's excellent blog ( www. alittlepregnant.typepad.com ) the other night at work. Recovery was empty except for the one (young, fit) patient I had brought around from uncomplicated orthopaedic surgery. As usual with Julie's blog, I was howling with laughter and alternately wiping tears rolling down my cheeks (she's a damn good writer). The recovery nurses asked what I was reading, and I explained. "I don't know why she'd bother trying to have children" sniffed one of the nurses. I felt like slapping her. She has three children, all teenagers or beyond. I bet a million bucks she never had problems conceiving or carrying her children. And what a comment! It's like she's saying that her own children really weren't worth it.
It got me to thinking again how much we take for granted, and how little we know of what could go wrong very easily. When I worked in our Tertiary ICU I used to imagine the almighty (or at least an entity of some omniscience and omnipotence) peering down from the clouds and saying, "right, whose life am I going to totally screw up today.... ahhh... how about..... HIM" and then the finger pointing down causes a bus to veer out of the traffic, or a plaque to rupture in his coronaries, or a big subarachnoid suddenly spurt... someone else's life... totally screwed. Those people who just say one day, oh yeah, let's reproduce, throw caution to the wind, conceive, carry and give birth... just like that, and have no idea of the pain of anything else different. Julie's blog has a post about pain scales that just covers this brilliantly.
2. Secondly, yesterday I was at a big department store buying a new garlic crusher they had on sale. There was a convention of sales assistants at the register who stood there gossipping about some fourth shop assistant (I know now that "she wasn't going to go after all, but then they called her and found out she hadn't booked it and then blahdy blahdy blahdy yak yak..."). Anyway, I did have all day so I just stood there, crusher in hand, waiting for the pause in conversation... It took some while. The saleswoman took the crusher off me, scanned it, and then put out her hand to me for the money... all whilst facing the other way, still talking to her colleagues. It had been on sale (x% off) so I didn't really know how much it was, so I just stood there, waiting, waiting, waiting.... after all, I did have all day. Finally she turned to me with some annoyance, looked me up and down and said "Yes?" "How much is it?"I asked. "Oh, (whatever it was)" I paid her, she continued talking to her friends, and (gnashing of teeth) put it in a plastic bag after I had told her not to bother with a bag.
What is it that when you walk into some shops if you have a handbag larger than the average tampon they will ask to see it as soon as you look like leaving (it's all the anaesthetic drugs I inhale, I must look guilty), but they think that carrying your purchases home in said bag is some sort of subversive, anti-government plot? "Quick! Get the fridge magnet! It's a terrorist!!!"
So of course I up-ended the bag so the crusher fell out onto the counter (with a nicely satisfying Ker-thunk), grabbed my receipt, and flounced out.
Now like anyone else, I love a good goss at work. But only after the sucker is slumbering (or comatose in ICU). Yah, sure I'd draw up drugs and give them whilst I'm not looking at what I'm doing...
If shop assistants (and related jobs) want to consider themselves professionals, then they have to start behaving like them.
3. Someone else is feeding Meg.
4. It's March and it's still over 30 degrees most days.
5. The sun goes down at 7pm.
6. I still haven't got my period. It's been 5 weeks since the D&C and I'm fed up. I want to get back on the job! Makes me soo cranky and irritable, and I just want to yell at everyone all the time, and even the... ohh. Right. Day or two, then...
1. I was reading Julie's excellent blog ( www. alittlepregnant.typepad.com ) the other night at work. Recovery was empty except for the one (young, fit) patient I had brought around from uncomplicated orthopaedic surgery. As usual with Julie's blog, I was howling with laughter and alternately wiping tears rolling down my cheeks (she's a damn good writer). The recovery nurses asked what I was reading, and I explained. "I don't know why she'd bother trying to have children" sniffed one of the nurses. I felt like slapping her. She has three children, all teenagers or beyond. I bet a million bucks she never had problems conceiving or carrying her children. And what a comment! It's like she's saying that her own children really weren't worth it.
It got me to thinking again how much we take for granted, and how little we know of what could go wrong very easily. When I worked in our Tertiary ICU I used to imagine the almighty (or at least an entity of some omniscience and omnipotence) peering down from the clouds and saying, "right, whose life am I going to totally screw up today.... ahhh... how about..... HIM" and then the finger pointing down causes a bus to veer out of the traffic, or a plaque to rupture in his coronaries, or a big subarachnoid suddenly spurt... someone else's life... totally screwed. Those people who just say one day, oh yeah, let's reproduce, throw caution to the wind, conceive, carry and give birth... just like that, and have no idea of the pain of anything else different. Julie's blog has a post about pain scales that just covers this brilliantly.
2. Secondly, yesterday I was at a big department store buying a new garlic crusher they had on sale. There was a convention of sales assistants at the register who stood there gossipping about some fourth shop assistant (I know now that "she wasn't going to go after all, but then they called her and found out she hadn't booked it and then blahdy blahdy blahdy yak yak..."). Anyway, I did have all day so I just stood there, crusher in hand, waiting for the pause in conversation... It took some while. The saleswoman took the crusher off me, scanned it, and then put out her hand to me for the money... all whilst facing the other way, still talking to her colleagues. It had been on sale (x% off) so I didn't really know how much it was, so I just stood there, waiting, waiting, waiting.... after all, I did have all day. Finally she turned to me with some annoyance, looked me up and down and said "Yes?" "How much is it?"I asked. "Oh, (whatever it was)" I paid her, she continued talking to her friends, and (gnashing of teeth) put it in a plastic bag after I had told her not to bother with a bag.
What is it that when you walk into some shops if you have a handbag larger than the average tampon they will ask to see it as soon as you look like leaving (it's all the anaesthetic drugs I inhale, I must look guilty), but they think that carrying your purchases home in said bag is some sort of subversive, anti-government plot? "Quick! Get the fridge magnet! It's a terrorist!!!"
So of course I up-ended the bag so the crusher fell out onto the counter (with a nicely satisfying Ker-thunk), grabbed my receipt, and flounced out.
Now like anyone else, I love a good goss at work. But only after the sucker is slumbering (or comatose in ICU). Yah, sure I'd draw up drugs and give them whilst I'm not looking at what I'm doing...
If shop assistants (and related jobs) want to consider themselves professionals, then they have to start behaving like them.
3. Someone else is feeding Meg.
4. It's March and it's still over 30 degrees most days.
5. The sun goes down at 7pm.
6. I still haven't got my period. It's been 5 weeks since the D&C and I'm fed up. I want to get back on the job! Makes me soo cranky and irritable, and I just want to yell at everyone all the time, and even the... ohh. Right. Day or two, then...
posted by jen at 12:16 AM
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