Ewan McGregor as Obi-Wan Kenobi in the Star Wars prequel trilogy. (Photo credit: Wikipedia)
There is a certain purity that exists in each of us for a short time that occurs during our beginning years on this earth. All the oohs and aahs, in response to precious first words and phrases tickle even the grumpiest grumps I think. Wrapped in innocence it amazes me that children move from gaga to actual words and once the verbalization process starts it increases exponentially and sure to amaze anyone who takes the time to notice.
I especially love the period of time before contraction development. Sentences are spoken in purest phrases.
We look for purity in language, adding twists, descriptive tantalizing poetic bends, decorations with subtleties or profanities, catchwords, buzz words, all kinds of words.
And I cannot help but wonder how the world might change if for one day everyone found themselves speaking pure direct, cannot be misunderstood language. Can you imagine what that would mean in politics, in business, in every aspect of our lives?
I was saddened at the news of the death of a Senior Resident who was killed by another Resident of that Home in the Toronto area. A seventy-five year old gentleman assaulted and killed a seventy-two year old woman who was also a Resident and inflicted injuries on a ninety-two year old woman. He has been charged with second degree murder and assault.
Did it have to be that way?
There are a number of cautionary statements that should be made for those who read these accounts or listen to them on the news, but before I address them, I need to tell you a story about my personal experience with violent Residents.
Once upon a time, not all that long ago, I was the acting Director of a Long Term Facility, and we admitted a gentleman to one of our units. The assessment by CCAC and admission history from the family did not indicate a potential for violence. In fact he was delightful and seemed happy with his room with its large view window and naturally a little shy.
I went to welcome him when he was admitted and again at the evening meal to introduce him to his table mates help him feel some level of comfort. He was pleasant. But one late afternoon all that changed. He suddenly became aggressive, and ranting and swinging and tried to get out of a second storey window.
The staff reacted perfectly, removing all other residents who may be at risk, keeping constant contact with the man and directing others to call the police. He was safely removed from the Home to the psychiatric unit at a local hospital.
After a time (I am not sure of how many weeks as I naturally don’t have exact notes to refer to) the hospital, CCAC, Social Workers, Psychiatrist all wanted to have a meeting to discuss his return to the Home. I took a stand that this man still posed a risk to the rest of our fragile population. Everyone else took a stand that he was safe to return but could not promise me that he was in fact ‘safe’. There were actually a number of meetings, by phone with the hospital, discharge planning, and CCAC. They were mad and frustrated and I was standing firm.
*Please note that explanations of how the LTC system works would involve a great deal of information and could not possibly be disseminated in one article. It is a complicated and complex system, and I caution you not to make judgements based on who says what and suggested ‘solutions’ from a myriad of sources.
Anyway, the hospital wanted him out. Hospital administrations are under a great deal of pressure not to allow patients to stay one day longer than what the Ministry perceives as necessary. As a result, the old pendulum effect is that many people are discharged too early which leads to its own problems. I argued that this gentleman should be put on a general medical floor with other patients to see how he managed – which led to a very loud roar of ‘how dare you suggest something so reasonable you idiot.’
While this struggle went on our staff were busy. My nurses, some of who were among the best I have ever seen, along with our Social Worker were seeking a solution that would allow re-entry. He was not judged as evil or bad but as a resident we/they truly cared about and wanted to see safe and happy.
They closely examined all the information we had about him, and finally pieces of the puzzle came together. He was a boy of about nine when Nazi Germany occupied his country. He had seen his best friend killed by soldiers. He lived his youth in justified fear and in his aging mind he began to live in the reality of those days and at times could not distinguish between now and then. We were unable to understand his ramblings in his native tongue at the time of ‘the episode’, but gradually some things became clearer. He did not see himself as the aggressor but a victim. The staff in uniform he viewed as the enemy. He was not trying to commit suicide when trying to get out of the window –a consideration that had to be made if only to rule it out – but was trying to escape danger. It is interesting to note that while the committees and Drs. insisted this fellow had no violent episodes in hospital, a quiet chat on the side with staff actually doing the care revealed that he was not violent because he was restrained physically and pharmaceutically, something that is prohibited in Long Term Care Facilities.
What happened is that a bed became available on one of our secure units and he was admitted there. More staff specially trained in cognitive function and dysfunction embraced his welcome and for a while he was fine. Eventually he was moved to another secure unit and again in time began resort to aggression again. By that time I was on my way out and the solution lay with other brighter fresher minds.
The purpose of telling that story is to let you know the potential for deadly action and reaction by Residents is there every day, and the solutions are not so easy.
When something like this happens it becomes a blame game. The unions, in this instance CUPE, starts yelling about needing more staff, the administration gets blamed for non-action on Ministry findings *and let me tell you there is a lot wrong with the Ministry of Health and Long Term Care in Ontario who list findings of non-compliance which may in truth be minor or major but are at times like this with no regard to severity. As a matter of fact I believe their standards were created to CYA (cover your ass) or actually their asses when something does go wrong. ‘Not our fault’.
Too much in Health Care today is about finger pointing somewhere else instead of taking responsibility.
Unions, or anyone else who pounds their fists and shrieks when an incident occurs, take the easy way out. More Funding. More Staff. More more more. I would suggest in fact that MORE is not what we need. I would suggest that every level right down to the front line direct care level has become about, ‘Not our fault’.
I would suggest that layers of management structured to justify position and documentation need to be stripped bare.
RNs need to be back on the floor, not doing QA reports, company reports, ministry reports, but front line assessing and directing care, teaching, coaching, and mentoring. The MOHLTC has made reflection of care an idiots game of using the right words or turn of phrase and God help you if you fail to put it ‘just right’. Documentation does not reflect care, it is purposefully complex. Get back to basics.
Staff in this current case documented over a long period of time the violence and potential violence of this particular gentleman – their way of saying, ‘not my fault’.
Senior administration will blame those below who will argue, well we told you.
People are so busy justifying and avoiding blame or responsibility the actual front line care is compromised. When a budget has to be cut it is the front line that suffers. This is a truth, and the fact is that somewhere above that front line another position for the justification of moneys will probably be created.
I believe the surprise at this deadly event is not that it occurred but that it has not occurred more often.
For many people old age and dementias of one sort or another leads them to live in a younger time, not just in memory but in actuality. Many years ago one woman in LTC would shriek absolutely terrified during her shower. It turned out she was a survivor of Nazi death camps which gave the term ‘shower ‘ a whole new meaning. There are still survivors of wars who relive those events again and again. Residents who never experienced war but lived through spousal abuse relive the moments. The good old days for many are in fact the bad old days and once they take up residence in those aging brains the reality changes.
The company who owns this particular Home is a good company, they have to be to have survived and thrived in this particular atmosphere that challenges and prevents really addressing the problems.
All I can say is don’t be too quick to judge or believe anything written or reported in this situation. We don’t know the specifics and the answer is not clean and neat.
Long Term Care in Ontario needs a completely new approach, one so daring that it might undermine the comfortable justification not my fault approach of today. Somewhere out there are people who know what has to be done and hopefully they will be brave enough to step up and take on the misguided leaders and politics in this very sick system. Just remember that in spite of this – good care is being delivered, Residents are being kept safe. But I do find myself wondering if this is just because of plain old dumb luck or if perhaps we will be brave enough to make the changes.
One thing I am pretty sure of – good care and safety are a result of our front line workers who persist under a cumbersome system because they do really care.
Physical bullying at school, as depicted in the film Rebecca of Sunnybrook Farm. (Photo credit: Wikipedia)
It’s 3:30 am and here I sit wide awake. Yesterday the boys and I headed off to Kitchener to meet my SIL and her 3 grandchildren at one of the city’s museums. There was a special area set up for Circus themes and activities which included high wire walking for the children. We waited. In line. For almost 2 hours. Each child after being strapped from stem to stern with safety wires and harnesses had the opportunity to walk the high wire and we quickly figured that the wait would be about 5 minutes per child in line. That meant of course that 12 children equaled a 60 minute wait and the adventures therein were many but that will have to wait for another post.
The point is that by the time I got home I was exhausted, stiff, and sore. The day was tons of fun so it was worth it, but I knew when I got home I would want to sleep so I kept moving, puttering about here and there and finally gave in to a couple of glasses of fermented grapes and a little TV. I finally surrendered to the sandman way too early, but oh my, it did feel good to slip between those sheets and head off to the land of nod, just to wake bright and early – well the bright part is me as it is still dark outside my window- thinking great thoughts, and pondering all things ponderable.
I noticed more brave little stories on FB about bullying and an article about Charlie Sheen on yet another rant, this time about his daughter being bullied, and this got me to thinking about this way too sensitive subject. And from that pondering came questions.
Where will the heroes of tomorrow find their brave? So many outstanding people suffered some form on bullying or rejection (which seems to somehow have become equalized to bullying) and in doing so became braver, became stronger. They became our leaders, our artists, our models for success.
Strength, I have heard, comes from Adversity. Are we removing or trying to remove all adversity for the younger generations? And in doing so are we making their future more difficult?
Are we over defining bullying? When does a taunt between children playing become bullying? The lines have become blurred. I can clearly see brutality, which I think is a more accurate word than bullying, which ends in child suicides and torturous lives, and should have far more severe consequences than it seems to. But where do we draw the line? How will anyone learn to ‘suck it up’ and carry on?
When I was a child there were lessons to be learned; Life is not fair, some people are jerks who will be hurtful and the challenge was not in negating hurt but recognizing it and becoming stronger because of it.
I fear that because of the extreme cases of brutality we are going too far in teaching our children to cry ‘poor me’ in less severe situations, instead of teaching them to stand up, be strong and understand the reality of the world. The reality is that in spite of our great hue and cry against brutality (bullying) there still continues to be bullies and there still will continue to be bullies in the future.
George Carlin and Dean Koontz have both expressed, one on stage and one in fiction, that when we over protect our children we are doing them a disservice. They cannot become immunized against adversity because we do not allow them to experience adversity. Is that what we are doing in this situation?
You see, I applaud anti-bullying programs. We have more situations when groups of people, particularly students are standing up as a group against bullying. That is a good thing. There are all kinds of education on recognizing when bullying takes place, stopping the act of bullying, and denouncing it publically, but I have yet to see a program that teaches us the reality of the how and the why of it and coping. It just seems that we are so busy with the ‘buzz word’ of it all, that we are failing to carry through with the successful coping of it all.
Sarah Selecky is an accomplished author who amongst other things writes prompts for aspiring writers. She also hosts Little Bird Writing Contest that you will find here. I am as usual a day late – well almost a week late in starting – and a dollar short, a saying I seem to be using a lot of this time of year. So I decided to give it a try.
Now the idea is to read a prompt and then take 10 minutes to write it in a notebook. By the end of the month you can submit a story from the lot, or several stories to Sarah who then has a judge (this year it is Alix Ohlin) choose a winner.
We may not want to post what we write, but my first story in ten minutes is something that I want to share. I wrote it in ten minutes and have not done any editing yet, which of course is the idea of the whole thing.
Write a scene using the name of your first car you remember. In 10 minutes.
My mother was on the phone talking to her family in Scotland. I was thirteen at the time and we were excitedly waiting for my father to return with our very first brand new car.
I looked anxiously out of the large picture window to the front driveway waiting for my father, and the car. Brand new. What would it look like? What would it smell like? My parents had only told us this morning and we were more excited that a three year old waiting for Santa.
“Mum, he’s here, pulling in the driveway. Oh it’s beautiful, I didn’t know it was white. Mum hurry, get off the phone, you are going to miss all the excitement.”
I figured we would never get this exact moment again and I so wanted her, needed her to get off the damn phone. She knew how important this was to my father. Get off the phone, I silently screamed at her.
Mum turned her back to me and spoke hurriedly and all quiet like into the old black dial phone. What could be so important, I thought, and quickly came to the conclusion that nothing, nothing on earth was more important that this event. Why was she taking so long?
Dad was now getting out of the car, its big wide door swung open. The four other younger children were running around, squealing, jumping and touching everything inside and outside the car.
Mum finally, after what seemed an eternity hung up and stared quietly and unmoving at the floor. She took a deep breath and finally looked at me, finally acknowledging my presence that she seemed to try to ignore only moments ago. She did not speak for a bit, just looked at me as I kept looking past her to the wonderful scene in the front drive.
Raising a family of five on a working man’s wages meant we didn’t get a lot of new things including clothes that were often hand-me-downs. This was an occasion.
Mom walked over to the window then turned to me and said, “Chris, this is your father’s day. Don’t tell him about the phone call. Let him enjoy this day.”
Confused I asked exactly what the phone call had been.
“My twin sister, Ellen, just died in Scotland. I will tell your dad later.”
Putting her shoulders back, and lifting her head, she pasted on a smile and stepped out unto the front porch embracing the happiness of the celebration.
I don’t think I have seen such an unselfish act since.
My cousin in Scotland mentioned the other day of March 3rd that my Mom has been gone for 30 years and her Mom the identical twin has been gone for 50 years.
These are photos taken of we three. Is there any purer joy than children who love the camera and are in awe that what they do is reflected back to them? There is an awe in their innocence that they, themselves, are magically recorded. These are older phone photos but I have been waiting for an opportunity to use them. And besides, getting the pic also means getting a hug.
In my previous post I started playing a challenge sent to me by my friend Georgette Sullins. It has been ages since I have had so much fun! Next comes 11 questions Georgette sent to me and then I pose 11 for you!
Georgette’s Questions
Did you have a cousin close in age to you? Not only did I but I do. Both paternal and maternal sides of the family provided a plethora of cousins but my favorite lives in Scotland. Edinburgh to be exact. Her mother and my mother were identical twins and it was a strange feeling when I visited her to see photos of her mom who looked exactly like mine in her childhood. The two sisters lived 3,000 mi apart and saw each other rarely (twice that I know of), and their hairstyles and even the style of glasses they wore were so exact it was eerie. R was born 4 days before me so she is actually the eldest but the moment I met her I felt a link, a connection I could not define. She has been called my ‘mini me’ because apparently we are similar but she is far more petite than I, hence she gets the ‘mini’ designation. Need I say she is beauty and grace with a delightful humor and the same appreciation for a good pun as I?
What was the first novel that transported you? I started reading quite young and practically inhaled every story I read. One of the very first series of books I read was called, ‘Uncle Arthur’s Bedtime Stories’ which was terribly frightening to me as a child and I posted way back when on the subject here. But the very first author I read who made a little girl understand something about life in distant lands was Pear S. Buck who lived much of her young life in China. She wrote so many books that I cannot remember the first one, but thinking about it now I think I will revisit her.
Is the work you do to pay the bills a passion or practical? Ah the work I do now since I am ‘retired’ is for love not money (minds out of the gutter some of you I help with the raising of my grandsons). For 43 years I was a nurse and it was a passion. It wasn’t something I planned – it just seemed to happen – but it was in my blood, it was my identity. During those years I worked in acute care - ICUs, medicine, surgery, supervisor, manager, Long Term Care, bedside nurse, director, instructor… I used to be good, well better than good, then with changes and aging I was no longer effective or good. One must know when it is time to disembark from a great ride. Before nursing I worked through school as a cashier, laundress and in a factory. My definitive answer would have to be that every thing I have worked at has been a passion. I have loved it all and continue to love it all. I think part of it is that I believe that I am always somewhere I need to be even if I cannot see the reason for it at the time. Maybe I should say that I have faith that I have been in a particular place at a particular time for a reason.
Do you have a favorite country western song? If so, which is it? Well it sure is not hard to answer this one. I love every kind of music but country is my fave. In my younger years my world from the age of 15 on was classical, then my grandfather died in 1980. His was the first death (though certainly not the last over the next six years) and I missed him. His favorite was country and I began to listen to it because it made me feel closer to him. My friends and I are now very hooked on all types of country and of course I have posted many times on the best country place ever, The Commercial in Maryhill and Paul Weber . Best country song oh could be so many but if I have to choose, this exact moment I’d have to go with Johnny and June Cash ‘Jackson”.
If you could (or do) grow a garden would there be flowers or vegetables to fill it? Easy peasy this question as my garden would be filled with vegetables. Flowers are nice but for the most part you can’t, or shouldn’t eat them. Long time ago when I bought my first house the whole backyard was garden and when spring came I eagerly prepared it, planted it and waited for the gastronomic treasures. Now working long hours and never having gardened before I didn’t realize how much weeding had to be done, and when the vegetables were ready, it didn’t matter how tired I was from work, I had to prepare them at peak. I did learn after that to have a much smaller garden. Vegetables. Definitely. Yum!
What would you like to see in the US that you haven’t seen yet? Or abroad? I have been to a few parts of the USA and lived in Texas for a couple of years but one place I have not been and would like to is The Grand Canyon. There is no great draw to go abroad except for Scotland although I would like to see the Mediterranean.
Have you ever caught a fish? If so, tell us about it. I caught a fish – once. My sister and her husband are the avid fisher folk of this family. But once when I was twelve or thirteen my family had gone to a cottage up north. There I joined some kids fishing off a large rock. I did catch a fish – mmm about a whole inch or two long and was horrified to be shown what to do with it. Yuch! The only fish I catch now are served on a plate.
What’s your favorite breakfast, lunch or dinner meal? Mmmmmm this could be a very long answer but I will restrain myself. Breakfast – omelettes, toast, bacon, or..or.., Lunch – garden salad, turkey apple cheddar sandwich, Dinner – filet mignon medium rare, baked potatoe with all the trimmings, pan fried mushrooms, asparagus, creme broulee, fine wines, uh oh better stop here!
Have you been surprised recently? What surprised you? When? Hmmm – I have been surprised – now what the heck was it? I would like to say that at my senior stage and all the wisdom I accumulated that nothing surprises me but that would be hogwash. I am surprised every day. I look at myself and consider my folks who died younger than I am now and thought them old at the time, that I am amazed at how much life I have, how much enjoyment and vitality of life I have. Then I look in the mirror and see the sagging here and there, deeper wrinkles and am surprised that I don’t feel ‘old’. At least most of the time. I am continually surprised that friends and family who truly love me, do so as I come to term with my frailties of character. I am surprised and enthusiastic that no matter what age we are there is a thrill in continuing to learn. I am surprised to discover that most of what we considered important in the past is really not.
What is a state you have never traveled to, but you plan to visit someday? I have not spent much time in Maine but there seems to be a draw for me there.
Is there a 2012, 2013 movie you would recommend? I can’t say there is. I love movies but seldom go to a movie. I love the experience of ‘going’ to a movie’ with its sounds, smells and treats. If I were to choose, it would be Argo and Lincoln. Argo – because I remember the incident and Lincoln just out of curiousity to see how it is treated.
Now comes the part where I am supposed to list people I tag, and while I will do that I would very much like to invite anyone who reads this and wants to spend a little fun time in their head to play and then put your link in my comments if you wish to. To those who would like to play but cannot at this moment I hope you will remember this challenge and take part when the time is right.
Well it is a game and not a foot but somehow the old saying seemed apropos. My friend Georgette has tagged me and for this rare moment I am taking on the challenge with great vigor. It’s time for some fun. The kind of fun to stretch our minds and occupy our winter laden cob webbed brains.
1. Post these rules. 2. Post a photo of yourself and eleven random facts about you. 3. Answer the questions given to you in the tagger’s post. 4. Create eleven new questions and tag new people to answer them. 5. Go to their blog/twitter and let them know they have been tagged.
Winter fun
Rules are posted – so far so good.
I took this photo yesterday morning when I had the boys outside for crisp sunny play. (then we went to lunch and an indoor playground, then swimming in the afternoon. whew! So photo added – check!
Now for 11 random facts.
1) No matter how tired or achy or old I feel, when there is a chance to romp, play or swim with my Grands I will do it. That’s what analgesics were created for right?
2) My BFFs include Donna in Manitoba (I mean Mexico for the winter), my sisters and sister-in-law and a close circle of ladies with whom we play, dance, comfort encourage, support and commiserate.
3) I have discovered over the years that my band of women are the infrastructure to a good life.
4) I have found that my male friends who were never romantic partners, are the best male friends for whom I need never appear perfectly coiffed figuaratively or literally.
5) I love using terms like ‘the game is afoot’. Sayings more common to my youth and perhaps more quizzical to youths. (Apparently the original phrase, according to phrases.org.uk came from Shakespeare’s King Henry 1v Part 1, 1597: – meaning the process is in active existence: for example ‘The teams are on the pitch- the whistle blows – the game is afoot”)
6) I have been around since the days of horse-drawn ice wagons, and love the memories and in spite of staying active and current, occasionally find myself feeling dinosaurish, a feeling I fight again and again and…well you get the idea
7) I struggle to write my stories and have just discovered a feeling of freedom when I loudly proclaim, “I am not a writer, I am a reader!” The feeling of freedom is fleeting as there seems to be on going discussion within. (I am also a big fan of alliteration).
8) My sons are my ‘solid gold’ in this world and the next, and my pride and pleasure at the men they have become fills my heart with eternal joy and gratitude.
9) There are judgements we heap upon our parents when we are children I think, that we don’t understand until we are adults with young one. I have quiet conversations to myself with my long departed parents to let them know what I have now realized that I did not then.
10) I eat a perfect diet and am perfect in my activity and exercise and thrill to every physical challenge of life. (At least in my mind. The intention is there.)
11) I believe we should believe very little of what we are told, or accept very little of the world as it is; of its truths, be it from the government, teachers, or preachers. There is ‘A Truth‘ hidden within all of it. It’s up to you to find YOUR truth. Do not be swayed by public opinion or common acceptances of anything.
The next post – part 2 will continue with the eleven questions Georgette asked me and my answers, and my eleven questions for you.
It’s been a few weeks since I have been able to look outside myself for any period of time due to health issues. Nothing with deadly consequences mind you, but enough to make me wonder if it was time to get ready to pay the piper. As horrible as it sounds it was a cold. Just a cold. Except it wouldn’t go away. Dec 18, 2012 I finally went to the doctor rather embarrassed to walk in and say, “I have a cold.”
Doc says, “I hear chest sounds lower right quadrant (he knows I am a nurse) so let’s do an x-ray and depending on results I may have to order medication.” I was impressed that in this day of madly writing prescription physicians who are overburdened by our health system and who just need to push on to the next patient, this man sat back and said what he did. I thought this quality kind of health care was long gone. AND he was a younger doctor!
Long story short I get a call I have right lower lobe pneumonia (something I have never had before) and can pick up a prescription at my pharmacy. The ten day supply seemed to go on forever but by the end I was all ‘Yeahhhh I am healed’.
That is until two days later when I awoke coughing and sneezing. I couldn’t, wouldn’t, believe I had a cold so spent another two weeks convincing myself it was a figment of my imagination before relenting and heading back to the clinic. This time definitely bronchitis, also something I have never experienced. More antibiotics. Ten more days. Yesterday I returned to the clinic on my last day of this round of meds. Chest clear but my cough sounds, as someone said, like it comes from the soles of my feet. Follow up x-ray to ensure all is clear and puffers to take for a few days. Good grief. These were meds I gave out for years to patients, mostly the elderly. Was it possible I was now ‘elderly’? Yikes!
But none of this is the point of my post. Now that I am securely back in the land of the living, and I am not sure if that is something that is ever ‘secure’ I started looking around at the world around me. What is going on?
The Pope resigns – unusual since it is the first time it has happened in 600 years, but later that night lightening is photographed striking the Vatican not once but twice. To paraphrase one comedian who said, “It looks like his Boss is not happy with his resignation.”
Asteroid2012 DA14 – buzzed earth then continued its cosmic cruise. It came a little too close for comfort I think at 27,600 km away. I consider our moon pretty close at 239,000 odd miles so this asteroid flew closer than some of our satellites. This guy weighed 143,000 tons. How do they know that? Are there interstellar weigh stations these objects but stop at, much like truckers on our highways? That baby may be much smaller than the one that supposedly ended life for the dinosaurs but it could still have done considerable damage wiping out about 2,000 square km *Associated Press. But while everyone was watching this spectacular show the cosmos had a bigger surprise for us.
Photobucket meteor
Meteor Explodes – While all eyes were turned to our expected cosmic company a meteor speculated to be about the size of a bus but weighing 7,000 tons blazes across the Siberian sky exploding before hitting our little blue marble, but the resounding explosion which equals about 20 Hiroshima bombs caused incredible damage to buildings and people. Had it not exploded prior to actually hitting the earth, the press (and we all know we can trust what they say) said that the result would have been similar to the destruction shown in some fiction movies. I don’t doubt it. We never knew this meteor was coming, and the only reason we had any warning on the asteroid is that it was discovered not too long ago by a dentist whose hobby is looking ‘out there’.
I am surprised that all the folk who forecast the end of life December 21, 2012 have not come forward saying, “This is the beginning of the end.” Of course there is always someone out there making forecasts, and while some may not believe, you just never know.
There is nothing mankind can do to change the way the universe functions. We don’t control space. Heck, half the time we can’t control our own immediate inner space. I figure that the best we can do is to live well remembering the Golden Rule, accept the miracle of our existence, whether Science or Creation based, and get on with it.
Except of course for those days when micro bugs take over and force us to have a ‘Benylin Day’ or two, or three.
I help with the raising of my grandsons). For 43 years I was a nurse and it was a passion. It wasn’t something I planned – it just seemed to happen – but it was in my blood, it was my identity. During those years I worked in acute care - ICUs, medicine, surgery, supervisor, manager, Long Term Care, bedside nurse, director, instructor… I used to be good, well better than good, then with changes and aging I was no longer effective or good. One must know when it is time to disembark from a great ride. Before nursing I worked through school as a cashier, laundress and in a factory. My definitive answer would have to be that every thing I have worked at has been a passion. I have loved it all and continue to love it all. I think part of it is that I believe that I am always somewhere I need to be even if I cannot see the reason for it at the time. Maybe I should say that I have faith that I have been in a particular place at a particular time for a reason.
