March 2011

I wish I could say I've beaten the procrastinating beast, but I would be lying, it's beating me... daily! Argh! Hmmm, well, I am writing a lot more poetry. In fact, I'm about to post some. Surprisingly enough, I have been writing a lot more poetry over the last 2 years. I've never been a poetry fan, reading/writing. But it's almost like with the writer's dam that I have (some people have a writer's block, mine's grown into a damn dam, dammit!), I can only tap into short bursts of creative flow, then when I feel IT leave me, I end the poetry. Weird, huh?


Well, currently, I'm still employed, I still, would like to merge into another career, but I don't feel like I've learned everything in my current venture. I'm still obsessed w/carousels, under-the-big-top, strange worlds... There's some inner-world that I can almost see, the strange encapsulating bubble around it, is hazed over, but I can't quite grasp it.

Anyway, one of my residents, a lady I had know for 6 years passed away, why do we say that? she died! It was terrible. She was very sick and her daughter, POA, decided her mom wouldn't want any morphine or Ativan to ease her passing. My resident was 92, her daughter, like 65, but it seemed to me and other staff that she was so distant with her mom. OMG, it seemed my resident suffered. For a week she couldn't eat, or drink. Until last Monday morning, I think her heart failed her and she was able to die. But, I swear, I was so glad I was not there. I had totally broken down the day before, because of some things, (they seemed heartless to me, but to the daughter perhaps she was just being sensible) that were said, all of it, and my feelings of helplessness reminded me of my mother. It's been months since she died, but I felt beaten up. I know I didn't do all I could for my mom. I can say I am relieved that I was there to explain things to my family. They had now idea what my mom's dementia meant. They had no idea of much of anything. Yeah, so I flaked at work, I talked to one of my unit managers, while crying, very unprofessional. You just can't be that way in geriatric nursing. But I was, and that's okay.

An old friend of ours came to see us recently. Just a few years ago, we were all messing about, and now she's a mom and a teacher. I think she's a good teacher & a good mom. It was a good weekend. You know, life is funny. Funny haha and funny stupid. We are all fucked up. Some one years ago, luckily enough broke the Fucked-Up Measuring stick. That's a good thing. Or we would ALL be doomed.

Laters world