The Skinny, Fat, and Smelly.

I've been staring at this screen for an embarrassingly long time, just staring at the sentence 

"I've been staring at this screen for an embarrassingly long time..."

A lot has gone on, guys.  I just can't know where to start and which events are the most important to jot down on this silly little outlet.  After a series of several thousand desperate distractions, I remembered this email I sent to a friend in September.  He had noticed some strange photo patterns on my Instagram, and just sent a "hey, what's going on with you?" text message to find out my deal.  He got way more than he asked for, and I am now gifted with a quick and dirty synopsis of my current state of being.  If you have the patience, this is the recap (mind you, this was written in September.  Should've posted it then.....):

Hey Hey-

6 months ago:

I start to feel.... itchy.  I've never been great at staying put anywhere but LA has been providing needed stimulation and distraction for three years.  I love the standup and my improv team.  I become obsessed with hip hop dance classes.  I also start to loathe my job and coworkers.  Not sure where I want to go or what I want to do, but just feeling discontent.  Tried distracting myself with new activities and people, and it works for a minute.

4 months ago:

I start hearing that 4 years in LA is the point of no return.  I sweat.  I think maybe what I need is a change in neighborhood.  As much as I loved my little place, I spent all of my time in Silver Lake and Echo Park.  I already had arranged a month off of work in July, so I figured I'd pack up all my stuff before I left and find a new place when I got back.  New start, etc etc.  I start telling people that I'm just waiting to be pulled somewhere, in a new direction.  I toy with getting certified in yoga, going off the grid and volunteering on a medical ship in Africa, writing a novel, dating comedians, etc etc

3 months ago: 

My friend Adam makes me read this book, "The Defining Decade".  It's basically a book speaking of the cultural phenomenon that defines our twenties as a throwaway decade, and how that's a load of crap.  Our thirties are NOT the new twenties, and being happy in your middle years comes from learning how to not be an assface and make anything of yourself in your twenties.  My discontent flares into full on existential crisis.  Conveniently, my intended month vacation to Europe trip falls apart.  I end up needing to be up in the Northwest for a few weddings in July, so I decide to take the time to do a long drive up there, take the 101 along the coast, run on my aunts farm, play in canada, unplug my devices and plug my ears, etc etc.

2 months ago:

I pack up all of my shit and leave it in my friends garage.  I set out on my road trip, just blaring Mariah Carey and bawling my bloody eyes out.  The drive is beautiful, and I reaffirm my love for the NW, and come to terms with the fact that I might just want to end up there. Its everything I love, and the place I want to be when I get old and ugly.  One major takeaway from the book is that if you know where it is you want to end up, GO.  Don't wait to get what you will want eventually.  Go get it now.  I get up to Seattle, hike in the mountains, wade in the water, and just decide I'm ready to be back here.  The fear of shame in leaving LA kept me there for a while.  I let go of it in July.  If I have to choose between being 'right' or being happy, I EFFING CHOOSE HAPPY! 

So I sent a breezy email to a few of my travel nurse recruiters, asking them to just let me know if anything in Seattle or Portland comes across their desk.  No rush, but think of me.  I immediately get a response for Seattle Childrens', which is a dreamy top 5 facility.  I submit for the position but don't hear anything.  I dont stress, wasn't in any rush. 

1 month ago:

I'm on my trip, darting all over the NW to get to all of the events I was committed to.  Had made several plans and re-plans to see my grandma over the span of 2 weeks.  Lost passport, surprise concert tickets, plans and fall aparts pushed and pulled me to finally go and see her on a Friday.  She passed away pretty suddenly that Sunday night.  She was feeling weird after a colonoscopy Friday night, pain came and went all day Saturday, and I finally just took her in late that night.  She had been bleeding from her spleen, and required surgery to stop it and clean out the blood in her abdomen.  She did great in surgery on Sunday afternoon and crashed 2 hours after coming back from surgery.  I was in her room and watched them code her for way too long.  My family was devastated.  I have never felt so much like I happened to be exactly where I needed to be in the world.  I extend my trip another 10 days to attend her funeral.  Hollywood has never seemed so vain or futile.  

Right after she passed, I got a cold call from the nurse manager at Seattle Childrens'.  We talk for an hour, and she offers me a job and surprises me with day shift, which I was not expecting.  Crying again.  Snotty and giggling at the same time.  

2 weeks ago:

I come back from WA to LA, with a dopey grin on my face the entire way because I just feel so damn good despite all the devastation I had just been through.   On my first day back to work, I hand in my two weeks and can hardly be bothered from then on. 

Last week:  I packed all of my shit in LA into a pod, to be stored til I find a place in Seattle.  My friend Coco comes to LA for an OC wedding, and makes the drive back up with me.  

We spend two nights on the Lost Coast, this crazy wilderness conservation area in NorCal. Google it, it is utterly breathtaking.  We hiked and swam and changed our brains forever.  Another night in Salem, OR with my sister, and then Coco and I met our third bestie Molly at the Gorge in Washington.  Dave Matthews does a three day concert series there every year on Labor day, and Molly is a tour manager who was working there that weekend.  We spend yesterday swimming in the Columbia River and hanging out backstage at the most incredible concert venue in the country.  

Today, I was up before the sun and sat on the edge of the river canyon, watching the sunrise and humming DM songs.  We hung out with Molly and the kids, caravan-ed to Seattle, and stopped by a sparkly lake for a swim to round out the trip. 

Tomorrow, I start at Childrens'.  I am exhausted but never happier.  I need to be here.  I also have been starting to think that maybe I do want to meet a dude and have a throng of screaming half-Asian babies in the more-near-than-far future, and maybe that dude should want to be in the NW, also?  So I should be here.  

I just reread all of this and cant believe how fucking wordy I am.  SORRY JOE, YOU ASKED FOR IT.  Let's still be friends even though if you've made it this far, you're probably so annoyed with me that you're currently online, trying to ruin my web reputation.  Leave those pics alone, JOE!

So that's the basic story.  Guess what.  I still have no idea what the hell I'm doing.  As is my life mantra, I have no answers.  Just balls.  

Love Love Love. 

fa La La La LA.

Amidst all of this non blogging and playing around, I must address the harsh reality of my employment situation. I'm growing weary of my occupation. I feel like being trapped inside for 12 hours a day is becoming cruel and unusual. Yes, I'm being dramatic, but hey... we're here on my terms.

I'm starting to think about career alternatives and options for my second quarter life crisis.(the first being three years ago when I realized I was fat, of course). I have some thoughts brewing, but sharing those is for later.

In the meantime, I have resolved to appreciate this occupation I chose at the sage age of..... 15, and try to set myself up for success in fun factor assignments.

In lieu of this, I exasperated myself and all of the lovely people who work to get me employed every three months. I was fussy. I refused to consider night shift (it makes me bonkers!) or assignments located in places without a major airport.

that makes for some slim pickins, folks.

I had just about decided to run away with the circus or be a street tambouriner when I was submitted for jobs in LA, Palo Alto, San Diego, and New York, all within 12 hours.

LA called first. I made it through the gut wrenchingly intense interview (kid found drowning in pond. what do you do--GO!), and was offered a contract.

So here I am. Nestled in a hotel room in Hollyweird, waiting for my apartment in Fabulosity, CA (my recruiter promised me this...) to open up.

LA is. sunny. smoggy. crowded. strip mall-y. corny. touristy. foodie. hipster. vast. urban. varying. full of possibilities.

stay tuned, all. beyond the brown clouds there is an air of adventure here, I can feel it.

Love Love Love.

The Silk Tape Road: Mary Bridge

As part of tradition, you may find the following as a wrap up of final thoughts regarding this four month stint in Tacoma.

Even though I came every so slightly begrudgingly, I was so ready to be in the Northwest for a while. I missed the mountains, the water, the trees, and all of the people I have here that I think are rad. It has been superfun to live with the Fosters' and for so many reasons, and assignment in this area was really perfect timing. You know, it was Aunt Terry whom I called when unsure as to whether I should accept an assignment in Hartford, CT last spring. It was kind of an awful job, and I really couldn't think of any reason to land myself there. She quickly reminded me that I am not a travel nurse to wander aimlessly, but to go where my passions are. As God would have it, I ended up in her living room. No mistaking passion there.

The hospital in Tacoma was actually a pretty great place to work. Not as great as Mercy Children's in KC, but definitely a workable environment. The nurses were helpful, the MD's approachable, and none of the residents received the 007 distinction. The biggest complaint I could have is that they chart too much. Jiminy Christmas all I did at that place was chart. An everything assessment every four hours, and then half of it every two. In addition to all of the poking, wiping, inserting, twisting, etc etc that fills up a day. That part was overwhelming, but of course, got better over time.

I love Seattle. The 19 year old version of me is punching this 24 year old in the face. It was this side of five years ago that I could be found, likely standing atop a soapbox, proclaiming that I abhor this western side of Washington and I would never want to live here. I used to be so annoyed with the constant gray skies, the crowds of asians everywhere, and the mind numbing traffic that afflicts every hour of every day in every corner of this city. Now I take it all in stride, reminding myself that if it weren't for the gray skies, the stingy population, and the crowded freeways, too many other people would catch on. Now I love the green spaces, the water, the mountains, the organic food, and the music. hehe. That's why 19 year olds are dumb.

Love Love Love.

KCMO wrap up.

For all my interested peeps, here's my final say on the KC.

The Good:

- The people here are just ridiculously nice. Not a snarky comment heard or received for three months. Hear that sound? a HUGE sigh of relief from me for being able to focus on my job without having to dive past the attitude and ego that seems to be a chronic universal illness that the health care system ails from. Seriously, I didnt even have to fight any urges to punch residents in the face or roll my eyes at a big headed attending. It's so refreshing to work in the place where people smile, are generous with thankyous and genuinely play nice.

-The layout. KC is really easy to navigate. Within weeks I got the highway system down, and I am henceforth going on the record saying that the KCI airport is the most user friendly in the US. You should realize how bold a statement that is, coming from yours truly.

-the food. You wouldnt really know it, but these midwesterners may be closet foodies. It aint no San Fran, and it certainly is no NYC, but Kansas City boasts some hidden jewels among the BBQ sauce.

-the hospital. I am also going on the record to say that Children's Mercy is the best hospital I have worked in thus far. Boy, they really earn their magnet status. There are people to help with everything! People to move beds between rooms, people to check your equipment and stock your drawers, people who solely manage pain, and people to set up your rooms. It made working there so pleasant. They really put their money into keeping their nurses happy and as you might guess, happy nurses make happy hospitals. The end.

The Bad:

- the crime. It's rare for pediatrics to deal with gun shot wounds. I saw quite a few. While at work, there was always some trauma coming, a situation, a really bad story. Quelle heartache.

-the culture. or lack thereof. I won't over elaborate, but the area that I lived in was Momsville. An overwhelming majority of the girls I worked with got married as soon as puberty hit, cranked some kids out, and now are in a perpetual state of Mommy. Not what I'm about. I made some really great friends and met really great people, but it was hard to find people with whom I have much in common, and who didn't need a babysitter every time we hung out. Not a flaw per se, but definitely not for me.

-the food. It has to be said. If I stayed in KC any longer, I would blow up to the size of a small RV and need to be rolled outta town. They make food for EVERYTHING. I can't take it. I love treats as much if not more than everyone else, but my waistline and logical mind can't forbear any more cookies. aaaaaaaaaaaahhhhhhhhhhh.

The ugly:

I grew up in the incomparable PNW. KC has nothing to climb, jump off of, run through, kayak down, boat across, or traverse down. It's ugly.

hmmmmm.

I've learned that nothing is final.

However, a good thing happened today.

I interviewed for a new travel assignment in a wonderful place.

The manager and I had a lovely conversation.

She's even ok with my Eurotrip plans in April.

This puts me incidentally in a city that allows for a direct flight to Frankfurt.

For now, I will say that I'm thrilled.

Cupcakes anyone?

details soon.

Love Love Love.

Peaceful, Easy Feeling.

I may not have been really in the glad tidings mood, but I sure have been thinking about this new year. BTW, I am totally on team twentyten, instead of twothousandandten. Just a side note. I have been thinking that this year I will be peaceful, and full of easy feelings. I will be thankful. I will be content. I will be aware. I will chase butterflies. I will listen to the Eagles. I will be useful.

In this spirit, Haiti is awful.

Haiti has been in a corner of my mind since nursing school. As part of our community health curriculum, we were asked to read the Tracy Kidder book Mountains Beyond Mountains. It's the story of Dr Paul Farmer, a Harvard educated doctor's whose work has been centered around humanitarian efforts to combat TB in the third world, most notably Haiti. Kidder paints a picture of the Haitians as severely disadvantaged, exhausted, and resilient. The turmoil of their healthcare situation was already awful. Despite the best efforts of Farmer and others who have similar drive, the Haitians remain among the youngest to die in the world. As the book title eludes, a Haitian proverb reads"Beyond mountains, there are mountains."

Don't I need to go? I have been doing some research but find myself overwhelmed with trying to figure out which organization to plug into.

Prayerfully considering.

Well Hello, KCMO!

Check out the new digs! i'm living with my good friend Jasmine for three months in Overland Park, just outside of KC proper (think Bellevue to Seatown). This area is kind of 'burby for my taste, but I have to admit that I like the woodsy feel of this neighborhood. There's a superlong trail that runs along a creek, complete with tadpoles and wood plank bridges. Very Bridge to Terabithia.

As for work? Children's Mercy is a lovely place to work. Seriously. No one will believe this, but everyone I have met is just. so. nice. No joke, sunshines and rainbows all day every day. Slightly unnerving? yes. A completely welcome change? you bet. The rumors are correct, working at a childrens hospital makes all the difference. The icee machine adds a little flair, too.

Love Love Love.

Wanted: a clue.

It's a strange and unnerving phenomenon that occurs about two-three years after you graduate from college. I call it Rapid-Onset Possibly Debilitating Soul Search Syndrome. You spend years studying your craft in college, you focus. You surround yourself with others who have made the same career/educational choices as you. You study, pass tests, do internships, train. You become qualified and then permitted to act as a bona fide nurse/accountant/circus trainer. A few years go by.... now what? You settle into your career, get a little comfortable and then realize: Uh, is this it? Cue letdown.

I have recently come to this. While I do love nursing, I have now seen that the part I love about nursing is what it gives me, not necessarily what I do. Everyone I know has heard me singing the praises of my profession. Those are all legit. I love the hours, the flexibility, the challenge, and the job security. But there's always a flip side. What's even more absurd about this happening is that I am hearing the same story with so many of my fellow peers. We just aren't sure this was the right idea. Sher hates her corporate accounting job, Stace is running in circles trying to stay on top of Texas oil, TL is a slave to her deskchair, I want to chase some butterflies.

Here are my qualms:

1. It bothers me that I only interact with people professionally during times of crisis. I want to be a part of people's everyday lives, to meet them during happy times, too. I want to be with people who are on vacation. Everyone loves vacation.

2. I never saw myself as a worker bee. I would like to be in more leadership roles. As a nurse, you only go to nurse manager. Holy paper shuffling. Yuck.

3. I sometimes have a hard time with the nursing population. It can be stereotyped to say that nurses are known for being overtired, overworked, cranky, overweight, lazy, and generally a bother to be around. Stereotypes are always started with some major evidence. Just saying.

4. In the setting of a hospital, there always seems to be an "us vs. them" attitude between nurses and doctors. This is horseshit. In fact, lots of nurses think it strange to find me texting a doctor. Guess what?! They poop brown just like the rest of us. This really irks me.

In lieu of these qualms, I have the thought that perhaps I might venture into other areas of interest. While I love travel nursing, I know that this won't be possible forever. I will likely be doing this for a long time, but I think it's fair to say that when I am finished travel nursing, I might be finished nursing in general. I have compiled a list of preferences in case I never grow the cohones to try another occupation. In no order of significance:

1. Be outside more

2. Dont sit around and get fat/ use my body in my work ...... ala the blue zone lifestyle

3. Make me cooler than I am now

4. no hairnets, business suits, or chaps.... generally must not be forced to dress like any member of the Village People

5. learn a superuseful skillset..... like woodcarving. or skydiving. or operating a crane.

6. interact with people during happy times

7. allow for an abundance of travel

8. encourage less focus on monetary motivation

9. get the opportunity to be a really good boss.... like Blake Mycoskie.

10. help me to learn contentedness.

PS. is this silly butterfly chaser wanting the American way? is it just never enough? if so, i'm moving to italy.

Premiering Nov 16th.

Your very own Thoroughly Modern Mingni will be progressing in her travels to Kansas City, MO. Among the benefits of this assignment are: living and adventuring with her dear childhood friend Jasmine, getting BBQ sauce up to her elbows at Arthur Bryant's, pretending to care about KC professional sports teams, working in the praised Children's Mercy Hospital, trolling the Plaza for eats and treats, and finding places to bike, hike, and run. Please consider the City of Fountains in your next travel plan. I am quite anxious for a runaway from the Lonestar State. Another change I am aching for? Cold weather. Odd as it may sound, I am delighting in the remembrance of my boots, outerwear, and scarves sitting in my parent's garage. I'm ready for a winter. KC for the holidays may be just the ticket. Tentative departure date: assignment terminates on Valentines Day. Then spring on the East Coast?

Warning: Seizure ahead.

I have made the executive decision that I will not be working beyond my Oct 31st contract here in the RGV.  I have had enough.  Details later, I assure you.  I just think it's time to move on, I'm starting to accumulate a poor attitude about my career, and I need to get going before it really sets in and I decide to chase diamondbacks on the Sahara.  I always seem to get stimulation overload every time I start shopping for a new assignment.  Because I don't get to be as choosy as travel RN's in the past, I'm constantly riding the fence between trying to get what I want, and not ending up unemployed.  EEK!  I've gotten calls about assignments for places all over, from RI to SC to DC to KC to MI, but for one reason or another, they don't work.  Yikesabee.  

PrayPrayPray.

The Silk Tape Road: Thai edition *graphic.

This picture of my arm is gross.  I know it.  It looks like I have kidney failure and am suffering from severe edema and third spacing.  This is what my heat rash looked like while I was in Thailand last July.  It was bad.  It erupted one night after I indulged in an hour massage and suffered a subsequent fever.  It was so bad I could hardly sit still.  I had heavenly visions of scraping my skin off with a grapefruit spoon.  The reason why I am subjecting my blog to this horrendous graphic is because it helps me tell the story of my run in with the Thai healthcare system, the silk tape road along the silk road, if you will.  

After two days of this, I admitted defeat and proclaimed that I was in need of intervention.  The antihistamines alone were not effective.  I needed steroids.  After a desperate failed attempt to call a friend in the States (thanks a LOT, dr jim) I was directed to our house mom, Pi Dang who tsked her tongue and told me, "you need doctor-skin."  My mind quickly panicked.  The one time I had ever seen a dermatologist I had to wait weeks and reschedule three times before I was seen for fifteen minutes.  I could not bear this.  Luckily, Pi Dang could not hear my inner whimpering and promptly guided me over a street from our guest house to the local "Doctor-skin".

I wish I had a picture of the inside of that office.  What I can offer you is this description:  it looked like the DMV.  Rows of bucket seats packed with people, all waiting for one purpose.  I sheepishly followed Pi Dang as she made negotiations in Thai for me to be seen.  I could feel the glares as people noticed and were horrified by the condition of my skin.  Had it been biblical times, a cloak and proclamation of "unclean! unclean!" would have been appropriate.  At first, the nurse at the reception desk said that the doctor would see me in three hours.  What a relief!  Three measly hours?!  No big deal.  Apparently, however, Pi Dang saw this situation as being more dire.  She waltzed right back up and engaged in some seemingly friendly dialogue, which miraculously ended with my wait time being cut to thirty minutes.  I fervently stammered a prayer to God, asking Him to bless Pi Dang like He has blessed no other.  

After waiting awkwardly in the "dmv" and ignoring the children who pointed and made disgusted faces, I was shown in to the doctor's office.  The cutest gray haired Thai man ever waited for me, with his UV light on.  He intently studied my every extremity twice, before peering over his rimless glasses and declaring: "this is very bad."  I had to laugh, while wondering the cultural ramifications of a foreigner threatening his life if he didn't give me some steroids.  Luckily, this wasn't necessary.  The dear, Harvard educated man wrote me prescriptions for everything I could ever hope for.  

I was then ushered to the front desk, where the nurses of this office filled my prescriptions and explained my medications to me.  I was handed four little plastic baggies with exactly enough pills, and two creams.  As she was tallying up my total, the nurse looked at me apologetically as she told me my due for the six prescriptions and my office visit: 820 baht (read, 27 bucks).  She perked up however, when she told me that upon knowing my ethnic background, she charged me the lower, Thai price.  "Chinese close enough," she shrugged.  I could have leapt over the counter and kissed her.  

Imagine, if you will, what this fiasco would have been like if I were in the States.  Should we even start?!  Nah, let's just grin and appreciate how much better they do it over there.  Obama, take note!

Ramblin Woman.

Are you there, God?  It's me, Mingni.

It seems like I tend to have a mild identity crisis every time I go home.  I get so excited at the anticipation of seeing all of these people that I like, having tea at Madeleine's, macaroni at the Elk, and a drink at Zola, having Mark cut my hair, playing in Liberty Lake, and doing all of the other things that encompassed my upbringing.  So I go, do all of those fabulous things, and then comes the rain.  Usually an entire day I spend traveling to wherever it is I am going is tainted by this lingering knot in my stomach.  Do I hate Spokane?  Why is it that I really keep leaving?  Is it really disdain for this place?  Doubt it.  Certainly isn't the people, for I can think of no other place where I possess such a concentration of humans I like.  Plus, I now have a snuggly goddaughter to love and not miss out on at all times.  If this all fell apart tomorrow, you bet your ass I would be lugging my tambourine to Kirsten's house on the North Side to hibernate for the winter.  

This weird psycho phenomenon had never been so potent as it was this last journey.  I had just come off of an enchanting trip to Thailand, spent two glorious weeks on the water with friends and family, and celebrated everlasting love at Rach's wedding.  In hindsight, I could be anywhere right now and probably feeling let down.  I'm bummed out.... and I don't wear that well.  I'm annoyed that I didn't have time to do all the things I wanted and see everyone I like.  I'm jealous of the breezy nighttime weather up there.  I've started to loathe Mexican food. I have to actively remind myself that I would be feeling differently had I chosen to take a new assignment in a new place, rather than returning for another three month stint here.  To be fair, I got over my relocation remorse in about four hours when I ran off to NYC and PHX.  However, I cannot help but admit to the fact that the thrill in McAllen is gone.  One of my favorite aspects of travel nursing thus far has been the thrill of figuring out a new place.  Scouting out the grocery stores, weaving through the highway system, finding places to hike, scouring for a local concert.  Meh, I've done all of those things here.  I'm over it.  I need a life coach to follow me around and constantly spit affirmations of perspective in my face, like:

"It's only three months"

"This job is ideal"

"There are people without jobs at all"

"You ARE close to the beach"

......."GET OVER YOURSELF, PRINCESS."

Am I really so habitat-ADD  that I'm over a new place after a mere two months?!  Doctor, doctor,  gimme the news.... I got a bad case of ants in my pants.  

I promise, I do love this life.  Nothing exhilarates me more than new faces and places, and I'll probably be over this in like, half an hour.  I just should have known better than to think I'm mature enough to stay still for a minute.  

Note to self:  subpar levels of assignment enthusiasm conjure remorse over leaving home. Yikes. I'm pathetic. 

The Silk Tape Road: Deep in the Heart

I've been working in McAllen, TX for a little over a month now.  It should be of no surprise that I have thoughts.  

Upon first arriving here, I was blown away with the affluence of this area.  Beautiful sprawling homes sitting on lots of acreage.  You know how you can smell out money in a hot climate?  If the houses have second stories.  They aren't rich if they can't afford to air condition an upstairs level.  Well, many houses here certainly have second stories.  and third.  I was baffled.  I am definitely one to enjoy finer things, and I could not fathom why anyone with money would want to live here.  Honestly, ere I arrived, the dramatic fussface inside of me thought I would be living in a teepee on a field.  Upon further investigation, I learned that the wealth accumulated here is in direct relation to the not so legal career opportunities found across the Rio Grande River.  Now it nauseates me.  Everything I see here is now infused with the lingering essence of drug trade.  Ew.  I take an exercise class here three times a week, and you would shudder at the Botox nightmares that come.  The mind reels.  

You may recall my mentioning that this hospital I work for is doctor owned.  In order to have privileges to practice here, physicians must invest a minimum of 250k into the hospital.  This policy can result in one of two ways.  The first is that the MD's are so invested in their brainchild that they work to make it flourish to meet their med school dreams of saving the world and saving lives.  The second, and more likely, is that MD's (who are already prone to power trips) go haywire with entitlement.  I'm afraid I have more examples of the latter.  

The hospital, itself, is gorgeous.  Brand new, gleaming granite countertops, shiny fancy equipment, and large spaces.  Further evidence that appearances are deceiving.  While I have met many lovely people here that totally rock out like me, they are mostly TNW's, also like me. This place is lacking in joie de vive.  Perhaps it's the newness of the establishment or the lack of organization in its beginnings, but people are just not into working there.  My theory, is that it's lacking in relations.  I have already had a particularly nasty run-in with a physician that I have henceforth dubbed "Dr. Assface".  The doctors here are holy cow demanding, and damn childish about it.  Obviously, none of them had ever encountered me before.  I, by no means, will hesitate to slap a ho (if you will...).  You are free to have issues with me.  You, however, are not free to throw a hissy fit in the nurses station and expect me to have nothing to say about it.  This place has so much potential, but is dropping the ball like a pregnant teenager in high school.  I like it here, but I don't love it.  Thankfully, I can do anything for a few months and this non committal lifestyle means that I can nurse the crap out of the kids here and run off before I burn out.  

Segunda asignación.

I don't know where I'm going

But I sure know where I've been

Hanging on the promises in songs of yesterday

And I've made up my mind

I ain't wasting no more time

Here I go again!

I've arrived in McAllen, TX!  I don't quite know what to think about this place.  The apartment I am staying in is on a farm road.  I did, however, venture to the grocery store and passed quite a few beautiful neighborhoods.  There's a Target.  It's kind of like Ellensburg, I think.  I start orientation tomorrow at Doctor's Hospital at Renaissance.  This is strange country, but I have a good feeling about it.  Another perk?  McAllen is 1.5 hrs from South Padre Island.  I think it's time for some "Spring Break WhooHoo!".

Love Love Love.

GiddyUp.

After a LOT of driving, I have arrived in the Lone Star State.  Holy culture shock.  Fun fact: Texas is the only state that permits the flying of the state flag at the same height as our national flag.  Says a lot, doesn't it?  Note new address.  I am playing with Stace in Houston for a week and then driving South on Sunday.  Whoo Hoo.  

Hear Ye, Hear Ye

Faith and determination prevail!

I have signed an employment contract for an 8 week assignment in McAllen, TX in the Rio Grande Valley.  It's a doctor owned hospital, which so far I think is really cool.  They just opened a brand new PICU, and I get to work there.  I will be living at the Texas Guest Ranch.  No typo, that's what it's really called.  There is indeed an airport in McAllen, let me know if you would be interested in a visit to the YeeHawLand.  I'm going to leave PHX on Sunday, and arrive in Houston Monday.  After a week of fun with Stace, I will proceed the six hours south to McAllen to start work on the 27th.  God is good.  Cowboy up!

Love Love Love

Like I said,

Just don't give up!  I interviewed for a travel position in Texas yesterday.  I just got a phone call that the nurse manager wants to confirm me, just has to wait til Wednesday for hosp administration to sign my contract.  God is good, and He will provide, every time.  If all goes smoothly, I am headed to Houston next week for a week of waiting at Stace's, and then I start my assignment April 27th.  I am blessed that my recruiter is getting me an 8 week assignment, so I will be done with a free week before Thailand!  How do you say "frickin sweet"  in Thai?!

Potty Perspective.

As you might have guessed by my binge blogging as of late, I have had quite a surplus of time on my hands.  Census is really low at work, and I have been cancelled a lot for the past three weeks.  As a traveler, you run the risk of not being needed and thereby being cancelled.  Had I known what I was doing when I signed this contract, I would have negotiated some parameters for this and made sure I would still get paid in this case.  I didn't and so....here I am.  I probably won't get paid this week.  UGH.  So in the midst of my pity party, I am also at a loss as to what to do about my lack of employment come April 11th, when my current assignment is up.  With the lackluster economy our great nation is experiencing, hospitals are clamping down just like everybody else.  They are trying to not use travelers as much as possible, so it's kind of slim pickings here.  I could and have been having anxiety, night sweats, mental breakdowns, and other acts of psychological instability, but I was given some amazing clarity tonight.  My friend Alisa, who is in the same predicament as I, suggested that we drown our sorrows in milkshakes.  We spent the majority of the meal feeling sorry for ourselves and trying to devise a plan to ensure employment in two weeks.  We got nothing.  After we left the diner, I ran back inside to use the little nurse's room where I found this:

This act of vandalism just about knocked me over.    

I realized while I drove home that, perhaps, during this time I really should ask not what my country can do for me.  Maybe considering the positions in Butthole, Nowhere that I have previously turned my nose up to are exactly what I need.  In my never ending quest for fabulosity, I have found myself somewhat devoid of the heart of my profession: service.  I believe that God leads us to those who help us most to grow, if we let Him.  Maybe it's time I acted upon it.  Maybe someone in Butthole, Nowhere needs me.  Maybe I need them.  I don't have a final answer for this, and I'm not saying I wouldn't still jump at the chance to work in San Fran or NYC, but I'm learning that if this is really what I want to do, I need to get over myself a little bit.  I need to push through the unpleasant for love of the game.  I need to not give up.  

The Silk Tape Road: Nursing Exposé

By request, this is the first in a likely never ending series of blogicles about my job and the things I know about healthcare, weird things I see, my favorite stories, etc.  Sometimes I don't find nursing quite enthralling, but perhaps writing it down will help.  Also, the number of friends and family that have asked, in all seriousness, if my job is anything like Grey's Anatomy is gross.  It has to stop.  In starting with the basics, I should begin with nursing.  I promise, I will get to those fussy doctors that everyone wants to hear about.  

I show up at the hospital everyday at about 6:57am.  Since the night shift's departure is based on the day shift's arrival,  punctuality is kind of a big deal.  If I clock in at 7:01, my ass is late.  Unfortunately, I don't believe in being early.  

After getting report from the night shift on my 3-4 patients, I go around and make my morning rounds.  We have to do a full assessment on our kids every four hours, a half assessment every two hours, and a mini check every hour.  Basically I chase after them all day.  Of course, this includes the charting at has to be done as well.  I need to know about any and all secretions, oozing, excretions, exudate, propellants, inhales, ingestions, etc etc that occur on my watch.  Really, it's not that hard.  Please don't gag.  

All of this assessing is intermixed with MD orders, lab draws, procedures, dressing changes, feedings, and the million other therapies that march through the unit on day shift.  The biggest difference between days and nights, I think, is that on days you are the soccer mom.  You juggle all of your patients appointments between the doctors, the physical therapists, occupational therapists, dieticians, x ray techs yadda yadda yadda, whilst trying to not lose your kid.  I begrudgingly admit that there are instances when I have no idea where my patient is.  Yikes.  The upside to all of this event coordination is that you get to talk to all of the different professionals and learn a lot about what they do.  

  

A word about my population choice:  I love working in Pediatrics.  You think about it.  If you are wiping ass for a living, would you rather wipe small ass or large ass?  The kids who I treat are such a joy, and such great birth control all at once.  They don't lie, and so they tell it like it is.  While their penchant for being non-negotiable can be frustrating, they will be the first to forget that you had four people hold them down while thrusting an IV into their arm or sticking probes and tubes into orifices that they have deemed to be "out only".  Their parents, unfortunately, are less likely to forget.  Kids are also much easier on my soul.  It takes a certain kind of person to be able to treat patients who are sick by their own accord.  Adult nurses do this every day.  My patients are sick through no fault of their own, and most times get to run out the door, as  healthy as they were before they were wheeled in.  Adult nurses don't usually get this luxury.  I am thankful.  

Now let's debunk some of those common misconceptions.

1) I have never, ever slept with a doctor or any other kind of health care professional in the on call room.  PLEASE.  The on call room is usually stocked with one twin bed (dressed in stiff hospital bedding), a desk with computer, and an exhausted resident who can't remember what his mom looks like.  Not hot.  

2) I don't wear a starched cap and stockings to work.  I think I should, but no one does.  I actually wear whatever I want, and most of the times it's a long sleeved tee and scrub pants.  Also not hot.  Carla on Scrubs, always looks way too put together.  

3) We do sit!  While I do say that I am on my feet for 12 hours a day, too many people take this literally and think that nursing is liken to some sort of medieval torture.  I do run around for most of the day, but when I am charting or on the phone I do try to find a place to sit.  Even so, the one average day I wore a pedometer it read that I walked about seven miles in a shift.

4) Working in Peds is not sad.  I think a lot of people think of St. Jude's infomericals when I tell them I work with kids.  While the kids I take care of are sick, most of them are not dying.  Even when I work in the PICU or the Ped ED, I hardly see kids die.  In fact, I have seen two since I have been a nurse.  Of course, it was awful both times, but does not override the hundreds of kids that live.  

5) I don't get to rock babies all day.  I would love to, but there simply is no time.  Besides, parents are supposed to stay with their kids in the hospital.  Whenever I have a kid with no parents at the bedside, I am ridden with guilt all day as I hear them wail from down the hallway.  I try to have them with me on my lap while I chart, or have a volunteer hold, but it's not always possible.  Poor little bunnies.  

I like my job.  I really do.  Mostly because I can do it well, and it allows me to do all the things outside of work that I love.  Four days off a week is not a bad way to live.  

P.S. Silk tape is my nursing weapon of choice.  It's my favorite medical supply.  I can do anything with silk tape.  Macgyver has nothing on me.  

Channeling Florence

As promised, I am posting my thoughts of my new workplace.  After a week of orientation and another on the unit, I am wholly aware of just how different hospitals can be.  In this day and age of technology and clinical pathways, one would find it easy to assume that healthcare has uniformed into some sort of matchy-watchy system across the United States.  oh, how it is not so.

The hospital I have been assigned to has recently shed its "County General" name and business.  All I heard for a week is how they are NOT the county (s-hole) hospital anymore and are planning major changes in the near future.  How exciting a time it is for me.  With that being said,  they ARE the county hospital.  A crap hole by any other name would smell as foul.  Pardon, that's harsh.  What I mean to say is that patients define an establishment no matter where they are treated, and this hospital treats the  patients that the other hospitals reject.  Inmates, low-socioeconomic families, illegal immigrants, are all sent here.  I have no issue with treating any such people, but have to comment on the fact that people who can't pay their hospital bill make the hospital poor.  Which means I don't have use of a blanket warmer.  or supplies in the patient rooms.  or computerized charting.  or carrier robots.  or linens.  Shall I continue?  It's not like I can't do my job, but I've been spoiled.  I feel like the pretentious art-gallery owner's daughter that just got sent to teach jr highers how to paint by numbers.  I'm starting to feel bad for asking questions, because most every response is "yeah, we don't have that."  This is going to be really good for me.  Another ding on the Pro list is that county hospitals are notorious for getting all the weird stuff.  That, is sweet.  

Being that they are not on a computerized system, everything is charted on paper, like the Flintstones did.  There are 'audit nurses' (ahem, chart nazis) that are assigned daily whose sole assignment for the day is to check our charting.  "Mingni, you didn't date AND time".  ....."There's no space that told me to."....."Doesn't matter, add it in anyway."  Sigh.  OKay.  I actually don't hate paper charting, it's a lot easier to read and sort through.  I hate how much of it there is.  So far, I haven't been able to figure out how to chart the way I am being asked and still give any patient care.  I miss my kids throughout the day, because I barely see them.  I do, however, know the exact minute they peed last.  This will change.  It has to.  I work in Peds for the kids, the joy I get from them.  and for the birth control.  

Alas, this gadget girl has been thrust into this strange little city that seems untouched by the progress and advances that the nation's health care establishments (and I) have embraced so.  Pray for resilience, and send stat locks.  We only have one size.  I like the big ones.