I'm still a kid

When I think of that day 30 odd years ago. I was on my way to school. I knew my mother was dying of cancer, but I didn't realize that I wouldn't make it there before she did.

I came into my grandmother's house and all I heard were laments. My father was silent and hugged us. He let my brother and I see Mom before my uncle called his friends at work (who were the undertakers). My father was always the one who was there, when his mother and his wife died.

My grandma was a mess. My mother was her youngest child.

There are a lot of things that are a blur, but a lot of things I will never forget. I learned much later that I could spend all my time thinking about the horrible things a teenager could have to witness (the stretcher, the body bag, the death rattle), or I could choose to remember the things my mother left me.

Her happy disposition despite many trials. Her stubbornness and relentlessness to see things right. Her wavy hair that always curled when you wanted and sometimes, when you didn't. Her enjoyment of the little things in life, like the salami sandwiches from our town's Italian section. The jello (red and green) that Santa left us at Christmastime.

My mother also left me her faith. Her faith that we are all actors in our own story and a little divine intervention never hurts. Sometimes we need to help and be helped. Those traditions of perseverance were more helpful than I ever knew later in life.

So while my mom is no longer here to be celebrated, I look every day for the places where she left her mark on my life. And I see her every day. I put a photo of happy times on my refrigerator, so I remember that. She and Dad took us to get family photos. It was the last group family photo we would get.

So I can mourn this day, or I can live it as Mom would want me to do. My mother always wanted me to be a nurse, so I know somewhere in Heaven she smiles. Even with my detours and stubbornness, she got her wish.

Channeling another time

Enjoy the sweetness this Sunday. Cheers.

Happy Mother's Day

A man loves his sweetheart the most, his wife the best, but his mother the longest.
Irish Proverb

So Bubba and Dahey took me to brunch today, they bought me roses, and when we got home (since our brunch location doesn't do liquor) I got my mimosas.

I almost completed my vow to not do any laundry (or other housework) today, but I spilled one mimosa on my favorite tablecloth, so I washed it.

Hope you enjoy your day (and your mom) wherever you are! Not everyone is able to do so. I still miss my mom, who has been gone for many years now.

More to come...

For that one patient...

Who claims to have met lots of famous people. This story reminded me of you.

I know you'd deny it, but it would have been fun to share. Nevertheless...I digress.

More to come. Stay tuned.

Happy Birthday Flo!

You're more than a forgotten memory. You were a woman ahead of your time, a nurse we could certainly use today.

And Happy Informatics Nurse Day today, for all our informatics nurses out there, like Brittney, Judy, and more. May the code be with you in your EHRs, systems analysis, user training, or even telehealth visits.

Flo would be proud of your data collection and analysis efforts to make nursing care even better!

Two letters

In the grand scheme of things, it seems miniscule. To ask a favor for a friend who is dying. A friend you  shared stories and did wonderful things with, all while doing your job.

It's a small token, but worthwhile nevertheless.

I read this story today and so many memories of patients and last requests came back to me: watching the baseball game, seeing your son/daughter/sister/brother/mother (pick a relative), dreaming about going home, hanging out and laughing.

No fooling. Making these requests come true is a gift we can all give...if we get lucky enough.

More later.

Childhood memories

One day when Bubba was little, he made a collage from magazine photos. It has all sorts of random stuff on it, so I asked him to explain his artwork.

He carefully pointed to each item and explained every item and its significance to him.

On the last one, he said, "And Momma, that's a coffee cup, because when I see one, I think of you."

Reminscing...

Here at the RehabRN household, we've gotten into the mechanics of the holidays. When I was a kid, that meant Mom had to clean the house and get all the boxes out of storage. The large box was the Christmas tree and the smaller one, the rotating musical tree stand that played Jingle Bells.

We had an aluminum Christmas tree for many years. One of my favorite memories was to turn the tree on, get the color wheel on it, open the drapes, turn off the inside lights, and look at the tree from outside. My siblings and I always wanted to stay out forever, but Dad wouldn't let us, so we indulged ourselves by turning on the tree stand and lying under the tree, watching it as it rotated and ornaments passed us overhead. I spend many a Christmas season hearing Jingle Bells under the tree.

Today, the tree and the stand are long gone. I don't decorate to the extent Mom did, but I like to have friends and family over and cook. After all the cooking is done, I'm busy cleaning and getting ready. Bubba still believes in Santa, but as he gets older, it's harder. We just tell him Santa really does read his Amazon wish list (since he usually gets what's on it)

One Christmas was especially memorable. I remember the Christmas when I was a new nurse, one of my patients rode around in his wheelchair in a Santa hat. His room was covered in Christmas cards from everywhere, because his wife, a writer, got her clients his address and the mail room was inundated with mail for him daily. His family was nice, especially his wife, and she brought us a cherry whip dessert that was her family's holiday tradition. We had a whole lot of snow, and luckily, no one called out. Even though I had to work, it was fun.

Fast forward to this Christmas season. In between, Santa Hat man died on Groundhog Day the next year, which was a horrible shock to us. Writer Wife had a rough time dealing with it all and her own health issues, too. We kept in intermittent contact. Things started getting better. She started writing again after a long hiatus.

Writer Wife wrote on her web site recently, "Merry Christmas all. Meet my new husband, who was a childhood friend." They are as happy as can be.

Christmas wishes still come true, if you only believe. Enjoy your holidays, and make memories wherever you are!

From the mouths of patients

"I really took a lot of money from that insurance company."  Mr. X

Mr. X, said this when he saw a commercial for a particular company on TV one day.  Not really picking up on what he meant, I asked him, and as fried as some of his memories are for normal, short-term stuff, he proceeded to tell me he "knew what to say" to make his drunken driving escapades look like reasonable accidents and not get caught.

Consequently, I told him he was lucky no one ever figured him out, or he would have gone to jail for insurance fraud.

"I like your shoes. They go with that top." Mr. N.

I guess Mr. Backwoods, who shoots birds from his deck if they get too close, has been watching the Style network again. Funny how some male patients notice any changes in hair style, color, scrubs and shoes before any of your coworkers say anything.

"We miss you in the SU." Mr. J.

Mr. J. is a big, burly character who sees Sue and the Doc in the SU. Mr. J. comes in regularly to get  his  methadone prescription and get checked out.