Clean Sheets

Sometimes a patient just cannot rest.......it often happens when they are dying.
You have administered all the medications you can. You have turned them into a more comfortable position. You have talked to them, held their hand, Watered them , and soothed them but still their restlessness continues and that makes you frustrated and helpless and the family fraught and pained.

There is something that can be done at times like these, and I was reminded of this when a dear friend shared their observations on the subject this morning.
You wash your patient, and you change the bed sheets.
There is something fundamental in this simple act of care, as in some strange way, the simple feeling of clean skin, damp hair that is combed and brushed and crisp clean sheets under a tired body that transports you to Sunday childhood bedtimes after bath time.

Rest hopefully will come then, often when dawn is breaking.
The power of crisp clean sheets.

Women of The Walking Dead

Sasha and Rosita

At the start of The Walking Dead , the women's roles were generally supportive to the men. in that way the series mirrored The disaster movie formula of the 1970s where women were decorative, weak and in need of saving.
Now in series seven, the zombie apocalypse has seen a blossoming of woman power as the likes of Maggie takes the leadership role in  Hilltop and Jadis and the women of Oceanside effectively run the two other communities adjacent to the saviour stronghold.
Carol, now out of her fugue is effectively second in command in Kingdom , Michonne remains a born warrior and Rick's main support in Alexandria and Rosita, a sexy stereotype from the comics has now been given a more substantial backstory where she admits teaming up with men, not for protection they may offer but for the skills they could teach her in survival. " Sex was a bonus" she tells Sasha, underlining that any " using" was done by her and not by the men , now all deceased.
It's an interesting twist.
In team Rick the women now outnumber the men ( a fact that doesn't bode well for Sasha) and with Jesus coming out...we now have four gay characters in the storylines too!

The Boys are back in town

 The three bachelor bantams that I thought had a new home a few months ago have returned to the Ukranian Village after pissing off their new owners with a show of Drama queen behaviours.
Worthy of three Joan Crawfords at a cocktail party.
Older with their tiny bodies full of testosterone, each one has tested me with a miniature  show of I'm in charge but I was on nights again last night so I was in no mood for histrionics and each one got slapped down with a show of force when sharp little feathered feet started to tantrum.

Losing One's Cool

The older I get, the easier I find it is to mobilize and show my displeasure about things.
Pussyfooting around is often the polite thing to do, but it often does not work with some who are dense, uninterested or both.
Sometimes a spade has to be called a spade.
Plain and simple.
The other night, fed up with one blogger's troublemaking on another's blog , I gave my frank and unsolicited  thoughts on the situation.
I hoped it helped .
Being called a twat, publicly is not nice
But it was kind of satisfying to do
On the internet it is easy to give your opinion.
In real life, it is not quite so easy.

The best put down I ever witnessed was on the 95 bus from Sheffield City Centre to Walkley one dismal evening many years ago and it involved a young mother of two and not a swear word in " sight"
The bus was busy, as was the traffic, so three large teenage lads, bored and fractious at the stop/start nature of the journey suddenly got up to no good and tripped up an elderly woman who had gotten ready to leave. The old woman stumbled into the laps of other commuters amid the giggles of one boy and suddenly the young woman was up out of her seat and in the boy's face.
In a clear, loud voice she said " what on EARTH are you doing?" 
The boy squirmed but she refused to let him unlock her gaze
" Have you a grandmother?" She asked him.
The boy tried to front her out and tightened his lips
" Have you a grandmother?" she demanded again
And she repeated the question several more times before the boy final answered in the affirmative
" Shame on you! " the woman said carefully and the boy's face flushed with tears as the confrontation was over.

The brave young woman with her two kids and shopping bags looped over her pushchair  not only shamed  that boy and his cronies but also pricked the conscience of an entire busload of passengers, including myself, who  probably would have done nothing but tut at the teen's behaviour.

Smile and Glide

I don't miss nurse management. Those long days of fire fighting problem after problem after problem with little to no thanks and limited encouragement!
It's often a thankless task.
I was supposed to be working tonight on a night shift but offered to change it to monday night to cover staff shortages. The manager was grateful but didn't quite understand my sacrifice .
" I'll be missing The Walking Dead I hope you realise !" 
They smiled weakly.
Smile and glide I told them, smile and glide.


anyway today's blog is a big up for one of our dear friends Weaver of Grass who is going through a difficult , firefighting time of her own. A plucky octogenarian who always walks on the right line good taste and politeness, Weaver has been blogging for years about her gentle rural existence in North Yorkshire and her comments on our blogs have been always supportive , gently mocking and above all interested in what we all have to say.

We need to send her our love and support at this time

" Grow Up"

Your not funny my friend!!!! Xxx

So messaged a fellow nurse on facebook a few minutes ago
The sweet, good natured nurse at work cut the top of a buttock at home in a " backing into the shower door" incident last night.
As it was hurting her, a female colleague and I suggested that she showed us the injury so that we could assess it and dress it.
In the treatment room we got a good look at the trusting lass' nether region
And with gloves on I suggested I trace around the bruising with a finger!
Secretly
I then drew a zombie face on her arse with a pen!

Not Today

No blog

Working all day!

Another Day, Another Vet Visit

I'm running late today.
Writing this in the vets' surgery..Winnie has gone to have her sutures out trotting away like a baby hippo.
There is a new male vet on duty who looks twelve. Winnie's not bothered how old he was
as he's wearing overalls so looks like a workman...He took her lead and She followed him into the treatment room like a cheap whore!
I am glad I don't have to help lift her onto any observation table as the button has just pinged off my trousers and I am relying on  the zip to hold them up.....I re start fat club on Monday.....as I only have three pairs of trousers I still fit into! Middle aged spread....it's a dreadful thing.
There is much laughter coming from the treatment room.
I wonder what she's up to