eric135

Phoenix Art Museum

It was such a sunny and beautiful weekend, I got the idea in my head that I wanted to stay up and do something unusual.

So after working Sunday through Wednesday nights, I slept for a few hours Thursday during the day, then got up for dinner, and then slept again at around midnight.

Friday morning, I decided I wanted to visit the Phoenix Art Museum. I usually go there two or three times a year and it's been a while. But I wouldn't have anyone to keep me company, and I hate driving, so I decided to take the bus.

A three-minute walk to the Metro stop at Tatum Blvd and Bell Road, I got there about five minutes before the scheduled departure. A bus was sitting there idle, but the number said "Express" instead of "44", and I just assumed it was some other bus using that stop. So I sat there, and the driver was sort of giving me the stink-eye through the windshield. If I'd been better versed in stink-eye, I would have understood that there were no other buses using that stop other than the 44, and that the bus I was waiting for was the one that he was driving. 

I was getting the stink-eye from a few of the folks in the windows, but that's what folks on the bus do, they stink-eye just about everyone, and so for about a minute we were just staring at each other through the windows.

Then, the exact time when my 44 bus was scheduled to leave arrived, and the bus took off.

That's when it hit me that that was the bus I was waiting for.

Oh well, 30 minutes to waste. So I walked a few yards over to a nearby Subway and sat at one of their tables out front. It was actually pretty nice, not too cold but chilly enough to appreciate the light jacket I was wearing, reading an ebook on my iPhone. It was about 930am, but the Subway was open for business, and there were a few folks here and there walking around. 

Half and hour later, I got on the bus (it was properly marked "44" on the side) and began my little adventure. We headed South on Tatum, passing all of our usual haunts -- the Best Buy, the Library, Paradise Valley Mall, the Golden Wok Chinese restaurant. 

We drove past Camelback Mountain, Camelback Ave, the Chinese Cultural Center.

At Washington Ave, I got off and exhanged to the Phoenix Metro Light Rail and headed into downtown, past the Civic Center, Convention Center, Arizona Science Museum.

Finally, we reach the rail stop at Central Ave and McDowell. Paid my fifteen bucks to get in (god I miss living so close to the Smithsonian) and started walking around.

Not that much new stuff to see, at least nothing much that caught my eye. 

I lingered in the European room, and admired each of the paintings. 

I'd seen the Asian stuff before.

The Contemporary Art baffled me, as always.

I wanted to sketch some big baroque or classical scupture, but found out there weren't any at the Phoenix Art Museum.

I did stand before an "Indian wood" carving/statue of the Madonna, and a couple other busts/head sculptures. 

Again, how I miss living so close to the Smithsonian.

I ate lunch in the Pallette restaurant in the Museum. I had a tuna salad sandwiche (which was pretty good) and a small cup of warm sweet potato salad (pretty good), which cost me 17 bucks after tip.

After several hours, I did the reverse trip home.

I sat next to a poor fellow just discharged from the hospital for COPD, and he told me all about his swollen leg and how he would have to take another long bus ride to pick up his meds the next day. He seemed familiar to me, but honestly I say that a lot.

This is the sketch I drew of a wood statue of the Madonna. Done originally in pencil, I only had a few minutes of privacy to sketch this ~5 foot tall statue. The face is totally off, but I was concentrating on capturing how the fabric of her robe created folds and shadows. When I got home, I applied some watercolor.

8 x 11

 

Some things really shouldn't be routine...

I'll have to think more about that goal of writing something every day.

I ended up working four nights in a row, which is a lot for me. We've had several weeks of really high census, with many nights where we started the shift completely full (that's one charge nurse for fifty patients). Patients end up spending 24 hours or more waiting for beds in the ER until someone gets discharged, or getting admitted to the ICU/CCU. Not an ideal situation.

Which leaves me too tired to write when I get home from work.

Thus the need to re-align my goals.

Day 1 ... of writing something at least three days a week...

We had another full night last night, when our Telemetry monitor tech called me to check on one if our patients. She had that weird sound to her voice that I really don't like to hear from the person in charge of watching everyone's heart rhythm.

I walked/jogged into the room where the assigned nurse was checking the patient for a pulse.

I could tell he wasn't finding one.

The patient was a DNR -- Do Not Resuscitate. Comfort measures only.

At 94, he had just been diagnosed with renal failure. Lapsing into unconsciousness two days ago, his family/Power of Attorney had made the decision to forgo dialysis and transfer to Hospice just a few hours earlier.

We were somber and respectful as we pronounced the patient deceased. I made the call to family, a duty I have performed many times over in the thirteen years I've been a nurse. I even have a memorized spiel I use.

The family took the news well, disappointed that none were present when the patient died. 

I told them that it happened very quickly, that the patient was comfortable when he died, and that the death was very peaceful. 

As I filled out the forms, and as we prepared the body to be picked up and sent to the morgue, the assigned nurse said, "Wow you're really good at this."

It was a compliment, a testiment to my efficiency...

... and the fact that I've done this twenty or so times before.

Some things really shouldn't be routine. 

But yes, I'm really good at this.

 

 

Well, I may have sprained myself after the last post. It's been a while since I've written so hard.

Day 3 (of 7 days in a row of writing something every day)

Well, I may have sprained myself after the last post. It's been a while since I've written so hard.

I've been off for five days. I'm required to work at least three 12-hour shifts a week, but I usually work four 12-hour shifts a week. But I was all messed up this week because of a previous week of day-shift meetings, which totally screwed my sleep schedule to hell.

Sometimes, I'll switch my sleep schedule so that I'm up during the day. Unless it's for something special, I always end up regretting it. It's like running down the stairs and accidentally taking two steps at a time. Sometimes you can recover smoothly, sometimes you end up face-first down a flight of stairs. You're better off just taking it one step and a time and not trying anything fancy.

I'm back to work Sunday night, first of four in a row. So it's bed time...

I'm the current Poster Boy for Why You Should Just Stick Around Until the Bitches Move On.

Day 2 of Seven (days in a row of writing something every day)... and already, writer's block has set in. I remember when this was EASY... come home, spill my heart and mind into my blog, eat something totally inappropriate for breakfast, then go to bed til my next shift. 

The eating something inappropriate for breakfast still comes pretty easily though. My last breakfast was leftover Chinese (Mongolian Beef, spicy, from The Golden Wok on Valentine's Day). 

Anyway...

... so I spent a couple of years as an Admit Nurse. It happened after I very dramatically was kicked out of my position as a night shift charge nurse. 

I don't blame myself. There were four of us, and none of us were spared the block and axe.

Three of us went quietly. 

I did not.

I fought every step of the way. I appealed every write-up (my god they said I didn't know how to put in a fucking foley... after the hundreds of code blues I've team-led... no Ma'am I wasn't going down over a Fucking Foley).

The Mass Extinction Event that ended up costing six seasoned charge nurses, two pro-nurse vice presidents, and one pro-nurse Chief Nursing Officer wasn't taking me without a fight. 

I went up the chain of command, and never even got the professional courtesy of a reply. I was utterly ignored, even as I kicked and screamed up the wooden steps. Even as they pushed my cursing foul-mouthed face against the block. Even as I heard the cold sussuration of the Axe flying through the air. 

My written rebuttal was 4 pages long, with 11 supportive documents. I delivered it in a blue binder, a white sticky label on the front. Colored tabs marked "A" through "K" for each supportive document. I wanted it to be intimidating. What it ended up being was... ignored.

After a month if "tisk tisk" and clucking of tongues, I had exhausted all of my options. I stunned them all at how ferocious some of us could fight. Some of us have claws, and mine needed serious cleaning. 

I'd thought of traveling, after catching my breath doing some Agency. But the night the Axe fell, and I wasn't a charge nurse anymore, the first day of a self-imposed three week holiday, my phone rang.

One of the other department heads wanted to give me a job.

"It's going to be boring."

"I don't know if I can handle boring."

"Eric, what you need most right now is a big hunk of boring."

Thus, the beginning of two years of... forms. Flu shots. "Did you remember to start the IV antibiotic?" 

Every day,  a little part of me died a little death.

But I'm Back Now.

Phoenix reborn from the ashes of a hot-burning flame.

I'm the current Poster Boy for
Why You Should Just Stick Around Until the Bitches Move On.

My previous boss isn't around anymore, as are few of her cronies. 

We Munchkins sang Ding! Dong! The Witch is Dead! for weeks. 

I became one of the Nursing Supervisors (as I made my rounds, some of my war-weary compatriots couldn't help but stifle a chuckle..."

And now I'm back to being night-shift Charge Nurse. 

Honestly,sometimes after work, I look down at my discarded clothing and look for my ghostly image. 

They made me attend a Leadership workshop (I can't really complain, they are making every Charge Nurse go).

They gave me a certificate.

I'm a Leader Now.

Sheesh.

 

I'm gonna write more...

I don't write often enough.

I used to write a lot. Something every day. Journals all over the place. Moleskines in a wide variety of shapes, sizes and textures. I had a voracious appetite for seeing my thoughts written on paper. 

It forced me to be creative.

It forced me to think more clearly about everything - what books I read, what I watched on TV, the movies I went to, the blogs I read, what stocks I'm stalking. 

Now that I rarely write, I wonder why. 

There have been a couple of years where I didn't find work all that challenging. I had worked as an admission nurse (it took me a dozen times to type that out, it's not a real job in my mind). I spent a couple of years filling out the tedious admission forms every patient has to have filled out before things can happen. Lists of drugs, allergies. Getting you a flu and/or pneumonia shot. Making sure you get an antibiotic your first twenty-four hours if you've got pneumonia. 

I just didn't have anything to write about.

Blog posts became fewer and fewer. 

Not many folks read me anymore. I once had 120-150 readers a day, now I'm down to 40-50 folks. Based on my link stats, most of you are looking to copy DVD's, trying to use your Kindle to listen to podcasts, want to know more about the weird way doctors and nurses record lab values in progress notes, or have some weird interest in the Maricopa County Jail.

I just don't think as much as I used to. 

So I've dug through all of my piles of crap, and found the four notebooks I was writing in. I'm pledging myself to write something -- anything -- every day, for a week. 

I know, just a week, but it's a goal I have some hope of reaching.

 

Reading, eBooks, Kindles, Kindle speakers, and the quest for power...

I've had a voracious appetite for reading lately. I usually get my books from ereaderiq.com, but a couple of weeks ago, I got an itch to read some Star Trek novels, specifically the Cold Equations trilogy, and decided the need was great enough to spend some money.

They've been an entertaining read. It's the first Star Trek Next Generation book that I've read that picks up after Data dies in Star Trek Nemesis. I've finished the first two books, and am about 25% into the last one. 

I've been making better use of the Kindle Fire that I got last year for Christmas. For the first six months after I got it, I didn't do too much reading on it. It is a lot heavier than my Kindle keyboard, and I prefered using the lighter model for my sometimes hours-long reading sessions.

 Kindle Fire vs. Kindle Keyboard

I've been putting the Kindle Keyboard in a zip lock bag, reading while soaking in a hot bath (my favorite time of day it seems), and have yet to have a water-related calamity.

But my Kindle Fire was relegated to rare use, until I decided to take it out of it's protective case. For some reason, the removal of the case got me to start using my Fire much more often. I keep a charger cord next to the couch, so it stays nearby.

A new Kindle HD was briefly considered as a requested Christmas present, but I couldn't come up with anything more I would do that I don't already successfully do with the two models I now have. I did struggle over the idea of having a Kindle Fire with a cellular connection for when we go traveling, but I'd want a Kindle that could do a lot more than the present models. 

For example, one of the most common tasks I perform on my laptop is using Google Spreadsheet. But the Kindle Fire (and every other tablet I've looked at) can't handle the spreadsheets. You have to use the line-edit version of Google Spreadsheet, which is too much of a pain. So if they ever got to where it would function on a tablet as well as Spreadsheet function on my laptop, I'd consider an upgrade.

Plus, my monthly data useage is a bit higher than the well-priced 250mb/month (at 50USD/year). My usual monthly data use on my iPhone is about 300mg/month, and from what I gather on the internets, I'd have to pay 30USD/month through ATT (and I'm not ready to do that quite yet). 

One Christmas gift that I got a few days ago has breathed some new life in my Kindle use. These iHome Kindle speakers have made it easier to use my Kindle to watch movies and listen to podcasts. I do these things already, but sometimes the speakers on my Kindle Fire are no match for, say, a fan, or a space heater, or the house AC/heater running. These speakers plug into the headphone jack, and recharge via USB (but the fully charge speakers has lasted me for days with fairly heavy use). Since it's a normal headphone jack, it will work with my iPhone, iPod and laptop. 

And then there's the quest for power.

Another recent Christmas present was my Mophie. It's an external battery which charges via micro-USB, but has two (regular) USB ports that you can use to recharge/power two devices. 

I've always had this weird anxiety about running out of power for my cell phone. Because of this, I always carry a power cord so that I can recharge my iPhone, either of my Kindles or my Nuvi GPS. I have a little zipper case that has one of those plug-in USB iPhone charger things, a 30-pin iPhone USB cord, a micro- USB and a mini-USB cords. I just throw them into my bag so they are always with me.

But I wanted something that could recharge my battery even when I don't have access to an electrical outlet, or a car cigarette lighter (we keep cords in our car too). 

The Mophie will charge my iPhone 4S from 0 to 100% in about 90 minutes, and only depletes to about 75% of stored power. I have yet to try it on my Kindles or our iPad but it should keep us connected/reading/musicated even when the power grid is out (which, to be honest, has never happened here in Phoenix even once in 13 years). 

Wow that was a long post. 

Yes I know "musicated" is not a word.

 

 

I miss them already...

Skype is amazing. I just had a chat with my parents on Skype via WiFi (they've just moved from Virginia to the Philippines, where they have dual citizenship). I was amazed at the clarity of the picture (she has an iPad, I was chatting with her on my iPhone). It was the exact same experience as the times we've chatted over Skype between Phoenix and Virginia. To top it off, it was totally free.

It will still be a big adjustment for me. It's not that I see my parents very often -- an annual week at Nags Head beach, an occasional visit during the winter, and I've never been all that great at the weekly phone call (sometimes a month will go by when I realize I hadn't called them). But they aren't a 5-hour domestic flight away anymore. Checking Kayak.com, it would take at least 24 hours of flying time to get to them (more like 36). 

But modern times call for modern measures. My mother was the one that got me up and running on Facebook. I haven't spent any time on FB for more than a year, but I've decided I should relearn how FB works (with all the nuances of privacy, groups and sharing) since it's a good way to share some kind of interaction with my parents.

So I was playing around on Facebook today, and was looking at all of Mom and Dad's photo's stored there, and found this:

 The photo was taken on September 18 1964 at the World's Fair. At the time this picture was taken, I was two years old, living with my grandmother in the Philippines. My father had just come to the US as a resident/intern for Johns Hopkins. My parents are much younger then than I am now. It is a very weird feeling.

I miss my parents already.

Missy wants something...

Missy has an uncanny knack at showing up whenever I've sat down for a snack. 

"Are you really going to eat all of that?"

Drawing and sketching... good links on drawing faces...

I've been trying to get back into watercolor painting, but seem to have lost my motivation. A couple of months ago, I packed up all of my painting supplies, they had sprawled all over the place. The amount of money I was spending on supplies was getting a bit out of hand, which would usually be fine but I'd buy something to try it out and then wouldn't ever use it again. 

Reading some of the art/drawing/sketching blogs I follow got me into drawing pencil sketches in my Moleskine notebook. Nothing formal, just doodles really with a regular No.2 pencil. But it got me thinking:

1. How convenient it would be to just be able to engage in a right-brain activity with just a pencil and paper and
2. how inexpensive the hobby could be.

So I bought myself a set of woodless pencils and have been drawing/sketching instead of my usual watercolor paints.

My interest seems to have taken a turn for facial drawings. I have always shied away from drawing faces because my drawing skills are not all that good, and so faces are a challenge. But I decided to check out the YouTubes for instructional how-to videos, and goodness is there a wealth of excellent resources there.

The main trick is to learn the proper ratios of where eyes, noses, ears and mouths happen on human faces. I find it interesting that once you get these down, faces pop off the page like magic. My facial drawings are still not that great -- I wouldn't try to draw someone and expect anyone to be recognizeable -- but it's been a fun departure from my usual struggles with watercolor trees:

 One thing I must say is that the pencil makes a huge difference. This is one of the first drawings I've done using an art-quality graphite pencil, and for whatever reason it produces much better results than my usual No.2 pencil. I like the way her hair worked out. My initial attempts looked like helmets or strangely shaped berets. 

Here are some links to the videos I found most useful for faces:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=urg1jyhLIhQ&feature=related

http://www.youtube.com/watch?feature=endscreen&v=gPB_L6kS2rc&NR=1

 

http://www.youtube.com/watch?feature=endscreen&NR=1&v=-Nm1Gqq1tGA

http://www.stanprokopenko.com/blog/2012/08/video-draw-head-angle-1/

My Flickr Art

 

The past couple of months have been such a roller coaster ride. More horrific than I'd like to remember. What started out as a bad case of flu progressed to the point where I walked into the living room and found my room mate on the floor, unable to get up, throwing up.

I've been a nurse for twelve years, and I have always prided myself on my ability to handle stressful situations. I've been in too many code blues to count, and I can only think of one or two situations where I hesitated in doing what I've been trained to do, based on the horrific scene. But after a few seconds, the algorithms and training set in, more folks arrive, and we do what we do.

But that day, walking into the room and finding a loved one on the floor... I couldn't remember anything. Somehow, I got him back on the couch. It took a few minutes to register -- vitals! I need vitals! But he was too low for me to hear with my stethoscope, pulse thready and weak. 

We made it to the ER. Too sick to come home. In fact, he'd end up on the intensive care unit, multiple IV fluid boluses, IV antibiotics, pain medications. A week sleeping on the reclining chair, forgetting to eat for almost three days, going home for a couple of hours to feed the cats, all while working my usual shifts.

My co-workers were there, taking good care of him. They supported me in my time of need. No idea how many shoulders I cried on, so deep was my worry. The parade of specialists -- pulmonology, infectious disease, hematology-oncology. Every day wondering if that was the day the axe would fall on all of our hopes and dreams. Every doctor couching every statement with the worst case scenario, even the C word was bounced around for a few days. It was terrible. 

After a week of telling them all that he couldn't eat because of his sore throat, the sore throat that always came back as tonsillitis, after a week of that, a CT showed that it really was tonsillitis. He felt better within an hour of the first IV dose of prednisone (which we asked for the night he came throught the ER). He was home two days later.

It's now been a couple of months, and things have returned to normal. Insurance thankfully covered just about everything, and he's eating and drinking as usual.

We have a lot to be thankful for.