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Rianna

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(no subject) [Nov. 29th, 2009|10:15 pm]
Rianna
I know, it seems like eons since I’ve stuck my head on live journal and commented or posted anything. I honestly got lost in face book and real life matters. I’ve started reading everyone’s posts, and I realized I missed the intimacy (of sorts) we have on this forum.

I also realized, one can’t be too open on FB, especially when many coworkers and old friends lurk. We’ve had tons of drama at work that I’ve tried to stay out of. KK and the new admin have doomed themselves by not listening to the employee survey, and most of the staff keep taking the high stress out on each other. I almost feel like the EAG is a joke because most of the needed change recommended isn’t being done for the nurses and CNTs. A lot of great nurses are leaving at the end of the year (if they haven’t left already), and the work load will even be worse, perhaps. At least nobodys been floating (mostly b/c there’s no staff to float).

Abbie’s enjoying the cooler weather, and amazing me daily with the subtle advances she makes. LoL She’s definitely a l’il Barda, and will most likely be a tomboy.

More to follow soon . . . .
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Yes, facebook is addictive. [Dec. 12th, 2008|09:38 pm]
Rianna
[Current Mood |tiredtired]

Okay, I admit it. Facebook is more potent than KOTOR and Evercrack. I have no good excuse for abandoning this, other than work, fighting a bad bout of bronchitits. and keeping a very hyper toddler in check.

But I am now in touch with a lot of old friends and co-workers . . . and planting tree and crops like mad.

BTW: thanks Shan, for the card. :)

So what's new?
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Fly by post [Jun. 29th, 2008|03:20 pm]
Rianna
[Current Mood |peacefulpeaceful]

Ya know, it’s amazing: I go to Bath & Body Works to snag up some very cool deals on discontinued wallflowers, hand cream and body washes. Then I go to Ebay.com and see that some greedy vultures are selling the very same stuff often for 4x it’s worth.

I finally got my paycheck from the university; though for the first payment, the payroll company deducted $20 from my bank account to wire me for something that was months late from the university. Why am I paying for Keiser’s screw-up?!?

So things have been frenetic here, juggling between hospital work, teaching and house work—though I haven’t been able to do much yard work. I am not complaining; we haven’t had a good rainfall in about 2 years.

Since my last post, I’ve “rescued” three various species of rose bushes that are now thriving near my main entrance. One is a tea rose, that hasn’t bloomed yet but has a lot of new growth. Another is a Cherokee rosebush (again, no blooms but a lot of new growth), and the other is a Lincoln species that is blooming like crazy.

*Blush* Another reason I’ve disappeared from her so long is that my hubby introduced me to Facebook, and I’ve been juggling that in my scant free time.

And I never knew potty-training could be so difficult. *Sigh*

And Min will be here Friday! Huzzah!
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Back in the saddle again – Semester trios [May. 26th, 2008|01:20 am]
Rianna
[Current Mood |sicksick]

1. Last week was really hectic, juggling work at the hospital and teaching OB clinicals. Although orientation day was short, the prep work took a lot out of me. Unlike my co-adjunct professor, who barrowed my work from last semester and didn’t even bother to update it, I actually spent time upgrading my info and actually planning incentives for my new cohort of students to succeed. This seems like a good group, and hopefully I can actually maximize their experience.

2. Finally, my Beverly Lewis book from Amazon.com came in! It’s very hard to put the book down, and I can almost picture Lancaster, PA from her descriptions.

3. I had a very negative experience at New Leaf Market last week. Normally, the employees and managers are happy and positive. The gist of a very long rant is that the manager, Lisa, not only acted snobbish to me for asking a simple question, she also verbally dressed down the new employee--in front of me (the customer)—about the company policy and how “they do not hold any type of food (in this case, vacuumed packed, ready to eat Palak Paneer) for anybody!” Okay, I get the message, but did you have to embarrass the poor girl on her first day!? Since it was the manager (with no one over her readily available), I had to type an email the next day to their website, hoping I would reach Lisa’s superior and curtailing her from making anyone else’s life miserable. The bad news is that New Leaf is the only really good whole food and/or organic market in town, so I may have just burned my bridge.

4. Abbie ate half an apple on her own today. She’s really trying to be independent. Saturday, she walked up to another little girl in a store and gave her a hug, but shied away from the group of girls who approached her later. I’m guessing the other child really needed a hug b/c Abbie usually isn’t bashful in groups.

5. Yarg, I hate hay fever!

Btw: thank you everyone for your symathy and prayers.
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The Aftermath or Getting Life Back to Some Semblance of Normalcy. [Apr. 30th, 2008|12:46 am]
Rianna
[Tags|, ]
[Current Mood |contemplativecontemplative]
[Current Music |23 Days - SheDaisy]

X-posted to LJ and MySpace, and edited because I apparently can't type at the wee hours of the morning.

Like mostly everything in my life, I thought the grieving process would last a day or two—at most a week—and then I’d continue live from where I left off before my world went kabloey.

But as in most things, you don’t always get what you want.

Sleep and repose have been awfully hard to come by the last 2 weeks. The night after I learned of my father’s death, I took a very fine Riesling that I’d saved for an important occasion, and guzzled it in about 2 hours. Granted it numbed the ache in my mind and soul (and it shut up that durn lullaby I kept hearing over repeatedly in my dad’s voice) for the night, but the relief was only temporary . . . and I wasted a very good wine.

I went to back one day too early, not realizing that Karen had given me bereavement leave. Had I known, I would have stayed home and saved the unit some headaches, even if the patient had been a wench and deserved the tongue-lashing I would have giving her in front of Dr Simmons. Still, my daughter needs food and diapers, so I went and made an emotional fool of myself. Yes, see my dear Abbie, your momma isn’t perfect; she’s human and prone to making questionable actions. When I was younger, my father and several others tried to place me on this impossibly high pedestal of expectations and assumptions of perfection. No one should be treated that way or even accept that position, but before I show others I had limitations and was fallible, I had to learn to accept myself for who I really am, warts and all.

So, my dad wasn’t the best of dads. He certainly caused us a lot of heartache and abandonment. Yet, there are happy memories of him when I was a child. And on some rare but crucial conditions, he did make up for his failings: like when he took me to the surgeon when a drunk driver hit a car behind mine and I nearly bleed to death because my PCP refused to authorize a second opinion. Then, instead of putting my beloved English collie to sleep himself when Tippie had stomach cancer (during the late 70s, when chemo for dogs wasn’t heard of), my dad got a fellow vet to administer the med after I had said goodbye to a faithful friend. He was a product of an abusive, alcoholic father. As a teen, he survived the worst of the Great Depression, and as a young man, he was a front row eyewitness to the horrors during WW2. Abbie, that’s your Poppa Pitts. Like my grandpa, one of yours was taken away when you are too young to really know or miss him, but I want you to read this one day, look over the pictures of him in younger years, and come to see and hopefully embrace a whisper of what was.

Very early Monday morning, I was almost placed in a hairy situation that I’d rather not experience again. Some EMTs from near Marianna dropped off a young woman 25 weeks pregnant, with contractions 1-2 apart, vaginally bleeding, and with absolutely no prenatal care . . . even though she’d been assigned a TMH OB a good while back. I haven’t entubated anyone, and they were looking at me to do NRP on a preemie that had absolutely no shot of surviving if it was delivered now. Respiratory was a pain to get a hold of (I finally had to do an overhead page just to get them on standby). Thank heavens Drs Duncan and Hugger were on call. Hugger was there in less than 10 minutes, and we were able to transfer the woman to TMH within 45 minutes . . . but after the last few weeks of not being able to transfer a patient to any nearby hospital, I was afraid that wasn’t going pan out. Thank God everything worked out. We were already full with several of Dr Davenport’s inductions (why that man wants to schedule inductions on a Sunday night is beyond my ken, and why a woman would consent to going into active labor on a Sunday night is even more mystifying).

I have a whole week off from there (halleluiah!), but I am so exhausted with so much to do around the house. Our yard literally resembles the Outback. Since my mom is so peculiar about her little push gas mower, I’ve been thinking about buying an electric powered one for myself to tackle our small lawn. I’ve been doing some research on various models, but I need to wait till the end of this month to actually get one. Hopefully, our lawn will have been tended to by then.

Time to go get some rest. I stayed up long past my bedtime last night trying to get some busy work done on the computer, and Abbie so sapped my strength today. I am so thankful for a loving husband and mom to help me out with taking care of our L’il Barda.


Btw: Happy Birday Jeremy.
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BOHICA [Apr. 12th, 2008|07:15 am]
Rianna
[Tags|, ]
[Current Mood |crushedcrushed]

James Roy Pitts

December 21, 1921 - April 11, 2008

Daddy, my only regret is that you never had a chance to sing to Abu like you did to me, or spoil her with things like you did Jason and Jenni.

But I am glad you are not suffering anymore.

I love you Dad.

Namaarie, amin mela lle.
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Oh that this too solid flesh would thaw and resolve itself into a dew . . [Apr. 7th, 2008|01:30 am]
Rianna
[Current Mood |melancholymelancholy]

A good friend and former co-worker received some very bad news last week. Her 10 year-old daughter was having terrible headaches off and on for some time. Last week, Sara (Paula’s daughter) had an MRI, and the results showed Sara had a tumor, specifically an estroblastoma the size of an orange, inside her head. The doctor did surgery immediately, but was only able to remove 90% of the tumor.

Paula is a single mom with only one living relative left, her brother who is helping her out. Still, I know the bills are mounting, and I know Paula is going through a physical as well as a financial pain.

Some of us at her old job are trying to help her out monetarily . . . but I am mad at myself for my current state and questioning myself on what to do. Initially, I wanted to give Paula $200 in cash (she won’t refuse the help that way: if I gave her a check, she would not cash it). But I just went through an unexpected major car repair, and we are just finished paying off some major bills ourselves. A part of me wants to be selfless and give what my heart wants to give. After all, Paula gave us 4 months worth of diapers when I was about 8 months along with Abbie. I’ve know Paula for 8 years, and she always does things for others without the slightest bit of fuss or hesitancy. She’s worked very hard over the years and won’t complain about much (except when we were short on M&Ms in our vending machine). She’s not well off, but she’s always managed to get by without complaining or mourning over what she didn’t have.

So why do I feel so rotten about cutting my goal down to $100? Even though Beau and I both work, we barely get by, and our own house is in sore need of needful (not wishful) repairs. I think I can give more at a later time, but I hate myself for putting my family’s needs over that of a true crisis. I am so fortunate to have such a healthy, intelligent daughter. I never want to think that it’s something I or Beau deserved because of who we are. No, I know it’s because a loving God wanted to show the world that something extraordinary and precious could spring from the mundane.

I have other friends and family I so strongly want to help, and I feel bound to my own financial restrictions. Yet it also saddens me that we don’t have enough to get a better house for our family, and then have reserve to help others.

How do you balance moral obligation with duty obligations?
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Just call me Raistlin Majere or the Hacker . . . [Mar. 24th, 2008|02:34 pm]
Rianna
[Tags|, , ]
[Current Mood |productiveproductive]
[Current Music |Create TV]

Now my poor Beau has come down with this flu mess. Abbie has almost recovered. As the second to come down with this unwanted visitor, I'm still stuffy and cough up a storm sporadically. Still, there's work to be done around here, and I'm thankful I'm feeling much better than I did this time last week.

The other night, Abbie resisted going to sleep, so I lay by her on her bed, thinking she would settle down and follow my cue to rest (as she usually does). Instead, she head butts me and nearly breaks my nose! I know she didn't mean it, but this kiddo is strong! I feel sorry for the kid who picks on her in kindergarten . . . then again, they deserve whatever she belts out. Still, I sported a very nasty bruise Saturday. I'm sure some people gave my hubby some questionable looks when we shopped.

Ya know, Barach Obama, you say you are for racial tolerance and unity, but comments like "My grandmother was a typical white woman," really make you look stupidly immature. You have a cow over Geraldine Ferraro's opinion about your rise to power and publicity, but you defend your bigoted minister's blatant racial and unpatriotic diatribes. Who's the real hypocrite? Although I loathe Hillary's POV, I'm seriously beginning to think that she is the more viable of the democratic candidates. Kudos to Larry King for giving Barach a much deserved tongue lashing.

Now back to spring cleaning while I still have some energy (and Abbie's still napping).
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The week in review [Mar. 15th, 2008|05:07 am]
Rianna
[Current Mood |soresore]
[Current Music |This Old House - PBS]

Wednesday Night

This week has been a hectic week, but today was super nuts!

It all started when Abbie spiked a sudden high fever this evening. She was very tired, but she played all day. I first noticed something unusual when her cheeks looked rosier than usual. Her cheeks were incredibly warm. At first I thought I my hands were too warm, but then Beau came over and noticed she was feeling hot. When the thermometer started climbing above 102.7 axillary, I didn’t wait for it to stop. I started drawing up tepid water bath. Normally, L’il Barda loves baths, but tonight she keened like a banshee. After a bit of Tylenol, Jell-O and cool fluids, she’s cooled down and is acting more like her normal self.

When I rushed over to the local Publix to stock up on some Jell-O, my car decided to act wonky. Now I’m facing another huge bill. Although I’m paid reasonable well at my job, between the emergency trip to Orlando, the time I had to take off (without pay) to take care of my Uncle Rhab, ordering the replacement part for my sleeper sofa, and my nurse license renewal, I took a pretty big hit bill-wise this month. *Sigh* I’m not complaining, but it just seems things like these always come in large, unexpected batches.

So when I finally arrive to Publix, just before closing, a little old lady decides to hold up the sole checkout line by swiping her credit card several times the wrong way. The computer processing the transaction decides to stall, and then the lady doesn’t know how to sign the credit card pad, so the clerk tries to help her. I must admit molar dust was flying out of my mouth with each delay and obstacle.

Although I prayed and meditated especially today, I still do not think I was totally prepared for all this, and probably should have not been so busy earlier today before all these occurrences. Then again, adversity took advantage of the situation to shake my confidence in God, but the old bugger hasn’t. So there.

Otherwise, things have been great. Next Monday, Beau’s parents are coming down from NJ to visit. I really haven’t had time to clean up the house, and I really have reservations about having visitors’ coming over when it look like those tornadoes last week came through our house and yard. Thankfully, we were spared the worst of the bad weather, but it’s been extremely challenging to pick up limb debris and mow the lawn when we’ve been working odd hours, not to mention juggling care of a very active 21 month old.

For a toddler, Abu’s really has an extremely great appetite! She still loves veggies and fruits, but doesn’t like sweet stuff at all. She started mastering the fork. I’ve been dicing up hard cheeses and organic Fiji apples for her to practice on. She loves them! My little fork master. J

She’s also learned to share things (toys, binkies and sippie cups) with children and adults. She also has a very loving personality: she loves group hugs and now will sometimes shake people’s hands. This seems to be of innate things more than anything we have taught Abbie. I am so proud of her!

You can now add Ni-hao, Kailan to Abbie’s list of favorite programs. I have to admit I enjoy it too. It seems to remain faithful to Chinese culture, and we’ve all learned a little Chinese. Between the Old High German (a la NaNa), Spanish (habló español hasta era una niñita) French and now Chinese, my daughter should be way ahead of the foreign language learning curve than most children her age. She can even count to two on her own, but needs a little help with 3 and 4.

Why is it that evil people seem to get away with doing bad things to very nice people? I have observed that people like Doug & Laura, Tom and Roger seem to gravitate towards nice people who won’t defend themselves when these types of jerks take advantage of the kindness of others. It seems even crueler when it’s family or someone you really care about.
________________________________________

Early Saturday morning

Abbie’s still sick, and I haven’t slept well since this all started. She hasn’t run as high a fever since that first night, but it’s been rough. Today, trying to keep food and liquids down her has really been a challenge. Everything seems to get ten times worse around 4pm, which probably means she has a bear of a virus.

To top it off, I’ve got nothing done around the house. I really dread Monday.

Every bone in my body feels like a QB who forgot to wear his protective pads on game day. Since my other co-workers have developed similar ailments, and they seem to go away when we’ve been away from the family unit, Sabrina, Shaquila, Jeanie and I are starting to believe there’s something at the nursing station that’s making us all so sick. Dust mites in the carpet or upholstery?
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And now, there are only two. [Jan. 15th, 2008|03:54 am]
Rianna
[Tags|]
[Current Mood |crushedcrushed]

Tribute, to the one in the middleCollapse )

Uncle Rhab, I did not realize how big the hole would be without you here. There are so many of you up there now, and so little of us down here. Your baby sister and baby brother are cold and crying. The tipi light flickers and we look up to the night sky for solace. Wado.

The pain is so fresh, and the anger so old. Dr Ballaro has much to answer for. I am almost certain that if he had not botched up Glen’s surgery, we would have had uncle Rhab for another year or so. My uncle loved his baby son so much, he died slowly with grief. . . . . A few of my coworkers from the old CRMC may remember that Dr Ballaro stopped doing his gastric bypass soon after he botched up on a cousin close to my age. That was uncle Rhab’s son. I was counting narcotics at the end of the shift, and didn’t know till I got home that the “code blue” I heard overhead was for Glen.

Out of my mom’s ten siblings, I only have one living uncle left. A once large, close-knit family has been whittled away to a precious few. I know the majority of them are in heaven, but it still hurts. I so want to talk to maw or Aunt Polly, how I long to share a cup of coffee with them once again, to tell them all about Abbie and her latest antics, or how so afraid I am of stagnating in my nursing career. I thought I was so capable of handling this loss, but it hurt me just the same. Soon, I know the phone will ring again. This time it will be my brother delivering news I don’t want to hear, and the tears will burn even more.

Be thankful for each passing moment.
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