Staying Alive

Round Two of my employment at Park West came to an end in early June. That ending has brought both relief and hardship, though thankfully, more of the former than the latter. Though I've had to contact Wage & Hour to try and recover salary that they owe me and money has been extremely tight, I am more than thrilled to be away from the malpractice and the drama.

I'm currently doing in-home care for an autistic child (more on that later) and grossly under-employed, yet it's a job so I'm not complaining.

Classes and the ensuing ton of nursing school homework/busy-work are keeping the guy far busier than I would like. But, we're still together... it has been a year. I'm certain that none of the people who know us would have thought that with the major differences in our personalities that we'd have made it together this long.

I am still a bit dismayed with the cultural/male attitude that I'm an "assumed acquired commodity" but hey... I was at his place the other night, and he had to run out to pick up notes from a classmate. I was left at the apartment to my own devices (another first that reiterates that I'm equated to "acquired commodity status") while he ran. He returned and assumed the position in front of the computer for the next round of the previously mentioned busy-work. I watched a bit of the news on the 43-inch LCD TV that gets recpetion on three channels (as it is connected, not to HD cable service, but a set of rabbit ears... omg, he is such a different one...), kissed him goodnight, and told him to wake me when he came to bed.

I had commented to him earlier in the evening that I'm not sure what he is going to do when we are at a point where he sees me daily as it will be so different from how things have been throughout our relationship to this point. I told him he will need to work three jobs in order for things to seem "normal." He laughed.

Tom came from California for a visit with Amanda and the kids. They spent a few days in Pennsylvania with family and attended a family reunion. Amanda was finally able to meet some relatively normal members of the family. Amanda has also determined that her parents are never allowed to be together in the same room - ever. We, her parental units, determined that as her dad only makes it here for a visit every three to five years, she will simply have to deal with it.

Amanda and Tom had gone out to shoot pool one night and managed to be home an hour before last call. OMG, he's getting OLD!! That never would have been the case, even 10 years ago! I had been watching the kiddos while they were out, and had just carried Gabe up to bed at 1:30am right before they got home. We were sitting around the living room talking and Amanda was seriously nodding on the love seat. Her dad told her to just go ahead and go up to bed as we would be OK without her. I reminded her that "after all, we are your parents." He laughed and she looked annoyed.

Al stopped in for a couple of brief visits while Tom was here. Olli also met her dad (having met Al the week before her dad's arrival in town). So, Olli was straight as to which dad he could and could not mention certain details. Always a major consideration when dealing with my two exes/her two dads.

YES!!! The phone call finally came!! FULLTIME EMPLOYMENT HAS APPEARED ON THE SCENE!!

The money isn't the greatest, but it's for a pediatric practice affiliated with Mt. Carmel Health Systems. Ergo, excellent benefits. One of the physicians has an integrated practice and does lots of special needs kiddos. And, I do really believe in the philosophy of Mt. Carmel - providing service to the under-served and disadvantaged. My health insurance will be about $28 a month and the 401K is available for enrollment immediately and matched fully to 3% and at half to 5%.

The best part about the position is how God worked it out. Especially as I hadn't even applied for this job!! Or even applied at this office.

I had emailed a resume for an office coordinator/nursing position at another practice affiliated with Mt. Carmel. How my resume came to be in the hands of this particular physician/office manager, I have no clue.

I went for an interview late one afternoon last week. The weather was miserably hot and humid - heat index near 100, with the actual temperature itself above 90 - and my daughter's van has no working air conditioning. So, what to wear for this interview was quickly becoming a dilemma. Being that I'm very much a "what you see is what you get" person, it was even more of a challenge.
I opted for a long, sleeveless rayon dress in a dark blue print. It was nice enough to look good, still me, and weather-survivable.

On being ushered into the back office, the physician greeted me first. She stated that she had not intended to even be present for my interview as she had a previous commitment, but when she had seen me in the waiting room, she KNEW that she simply had to meet me.

As it turns out, her previous commitiment was the charity medical clinic that is organized and run by one of the larger, nondenominational churches in the area. The large nondenomination church that is right up the road, pretty much, from the large nondenominational church with which I am affiliated. So, it turns out that we're on the same page on the important things.

You just have to love how God chooses to do things.

His way. His timing. His purposes.

I will be primarily this physician's nurse, though there is another physician in the office - with a completely different type of practice (again, another more on that later), and they are looking to add a fulltime nurse practitioner to the practice. The offer had already been made to the nurse practitioner, but there was no word yet (as of my interview day) on whether or not she had decided to accept the offer. So, exactly what my job description/duties will be is subject to change depending on how the office practice may be restructured, but I'm flexible. And, new challenges and changes are always fun.

Still, too funny about how God decides to do things.

Even funnier, I had no idea that I would be receiving this phone call a couple of hours after I logged on to begin writing this post this morning.

I'll have to call the y-chromosome person and let him know. He's at work, so I'll make it after all of the administrative "powers that be" have left grounds for the day... which should be around 3:30 as it's Friday. Was planning on calling him later today anyway to suggest that he pick me up tomorrow after work and drop me back home Sunday morning on his way back to work. As he won't stay here because he's worried that the German Shepherd dog would bark at him.

Oh, he is so going to love the male Jack Russell Terrier that I gift to him. I am greatly anticipating the 5-pound dog standing in the middle of the bed barking and growling and telling him "my mommy!" I am also anticipating the dog vs the expensive leather living room furniture (if only in my dreams!! ~evil laugh and wicked grin~).

It's time to get moving on some lunch for the kiddos.

More later....

Life Goes On

I was awakened last Monday by a telephone call from Annie, the administrative assistant at our corporate office. (Translation: The secretary who secretly runs everything.) She was phoning me because the people who had volunteered to make the quilt from the blocks had no idea how to do such a thing. Her tone was almost that they (the supported living division) hated to put upon me to ask if I could do it. As I work for a separate division, and this was “their” project, not “ours.” In truth, I felt very honored to be able to be able to put these individual expressions into a singular, creative whole.

As I spent last week ill from the kiddie krud, staying with the rotation of ailing children who could not go to the babysitter’s, and still having to work over-time because I have no nurses/am short on competent nurses, I could not get started on the quilt until this week.

So, I have spent the last two days at the corporate office piecing the blocks together. And, I’ve had a wonderful time and received a bit of an epiphany.

Being a quilter, I subscribe to the methodology of modern quilt making. Rotary cutting, strip piecing…. Speed and precision is the name of the game.

It isn’t working with this quilt.

The squares of fabric had all been cut by hand. Not one of them is exact same size or shape. No uniformity what so ever. Some of the blocks that the clients made from the squares have embellishments that go completely to the edge of the block. No room for seam allowance.

So, I’m having to do this quilt the “old fashioned” way. Take each block individually, give it the particular attention that it requires in order to be able to piece it into the whole, and one-by-one, add it in.

As I was fidgeting with these blocks yesterday morning, it occurred to me that this quilt represents exactly what it is that we do as a company.

The individual blocks that our clients made are a personal, unique reflection just as each of them is a unique being with different interests and different abilities. Those blocks are just like all people. We are very similar, we all have the same basic components, but no two of us are alike. We are all a bit non-uniform and have our own particular quirks.

In modern quilt making, there are degrees of “one size fits all” methods of doing things. With this set of blocks as with our set of clients, there is nothing that is standardized and uniform and applied unilaterally. We must tailor each thing that we do for that particular individual to their particular needs. Just as I must take each individual quilt block and give it the particular attention that it requires.

This quilt is an exact representation of what it is that we do as a company. It was a very cool thing to realize that.

The supported living staff has been very appreciative of my efforts in assembling the quilt. The director of that division commented to me that their clients had simply fallen in love with me during the day of block making. I guess several of the clients had told their family members about me and the families had called the office to relay this information to the administrative staff, as to how appreciative they were that one of the nurses from another part of the company would come and take the time to do this type of activity. As I told Becky, I enjoyed making the new friends that I had made that day.

For me, being able to put this quilt together is an honor and a privilege. It took the office staff of the other division a couple of days to realize that. They had initially felt that in asking me to have to do this for them that I was being “put upon.” I am really glad to see that they have realized that is not the case.

Yesterday was May 6^th, the one-year anniversary of my dad’s death. As I was running home at lunch time to grab a couple of more handy widgets from my sewing box in order to better work on some of these quilt blocks, I thought I should give my mom and my sister a call at the ice cream shop. Realizing the time, I figured I would wait until the lunch rush was over.

Just as I was pulling back into the parking lot at the corporate office, my phone rang. It was my baby sister. I told her I had thought about ringing her up but had decided to wait a bit. She asked if I was working. I told her I was at the corporate office working on the quilt. “I know you’re loving that,” she replied.

Everyone was meeting for dinner at 5:30. I told her that I had to pick Amanda up from work at 5:15 and wouldn’t be able to make it to dinner. She told me that they had set Dad’s headstone on the grave this last weekend.

His headstone, it would seem, is the only one in the entire cemetery that is truly facing the “right” direction. The cemetery borders a river. Everyone is buried with their feet towards the river. Therefore, all of the headstones are placed at everyone’s feet. You gotta love my mom…. Dad’s headstone is at the head of the grave with the information facing towards the river, towards his body…. Completely backwards from every other headstone in the graveyard! LMAO only my family!!

That’s what my Dad gets for wanting that plot right up by the road and having to have us drive by and see him every time we head to the house! Yes, I still think he’s an asshole for having done that to us intentionally. That’s OK; I wouldn’t want him to be any other way. As I drive by, I wave and say hi to him and cuss him for being such an asshole for doing that.

I made it through most of yesterday OK. It was the quilt that kept me busy and focused. At some point, I realized that the shirt I had grabbed from the top of the laundry basket and put on was my “ICU sweater” that I had crocheted last year when dad was in the hospital. I even managed to maintain after that realization.

The drive to pick Amanda up from work yesterday was longer than expected. Traffic on the interstate was at a dead stand still due to an accident. I had picked up the kids from the sitter’s, stopped by the house and told them to get something to occupy themselves with for the drive. By the time we piled back into the van, it was reported that there had been traffic accidents at BOTH of the alternative routes that I could have used. Just figures.

Off we went. It took 50 minutes to make what is normally a 12-minute drive. Getting home was nearly as nightmarish. We had left the house at 4:40pm and finally arrived back home around 6:15pm.

Things, being how things generally seem to go in my life, continued as “normal.” I think both of my cell phones may be ruined from being drenched by a single coffee spill. I have more paperwork and forms to update for work than I care to think about. My house seriously needs cleaned.

And, just to give you an idea of how bad things really are… I’m choosing the “cleaning house” option.

Ciao!

Weekend Recovery

The meaning of the title is two-fold… I would much rather be detailing how the events of the weekend provided some much needed recovery. However, the events and the occurrences of the weekend from which I need to recover predominate my thoughts and occupy waaaaaay too much of my time and energy at this moment and also will necessitate a repetition of the same pattern for several days to come…

I would love to elaborate and give the details of my co-workers’ exploits and actions that are the reason I need recovery, but it simply pisses me off too fucking much to even begin the thought processes necessary to merge the actions of the three nurses who created this cluster-fuck on Saturday night into a single time-line. Let me sum it up by saying two things, when I even begin to think about it, the screaming headache returns in an instant. No, that is not exaggeration for the sake of literary license. That is a fact of truth. The second thing, I am awaiting the written report from the on duty physician and charge nurse from the local hospital’s Emergency Department that is being sent to the investigative unit of the county board of mental retardation in which they label my staff as “incompetent.”

Finally, it will be documented correctly on paper for everyone to see. Hallelujah!! Amen!! Thank you Jesus!!

As I have been prohibited by my superiors from using the “i” word in any of my written reports, corrective actions, retraining documents, I am overjoyed at the impending prospect of being able to see it in black and white and out there in plain sight for the people who need to see it to see it. This is a banner day in my quest to be able to finally make a sweeping change in who works on my shift, and more importantly, who is charged with taking care of my clients. More accurately phrased in my reality, who is entitled to be able to take care of my clients.

The other part of the title refers to how I spent my Saturday. All day Saturday after working all night on Friday. I had seen a memo posted that for the 25^th Anniversary Open House next month, the clients from our supported living division had decided to make a quilt to celebrate. Implements of construction, fabric, embellishments in hand, I headed to the corporate office for a day of block-making.

By the time 3pm rolled around, I was exhausted, fulfilled, and amazed. I had made several new friends, had finally gotten to put faces to names with some of our supported living staff, and was in awe of the creations that the clients had made. It was such a very cool thing to me to be able to see how they had incorporated the various “bits of stuff” into expressing their vision. It was truly the stuff that art is made of.

For now…. I’m off to re-write policy & procedure…..