At my church we have a parish nurse. About ten years ago I, along with some others, tried to get a parish nurse program into the church.
No dice. We have a fairly wealthy (but not me) church and people didn't think they needed a "nurse."
Then the hospital came to us with an offer we couldn't refuse. They paid the first year's salary.
Now, after a few years, there are still a few people who have no idea what a Parish Nurse is. But lots of others think she's a saint.
"Parish Nurse" is not a good title because it sounds like a little old lady who takes your blood pressure.
Our parish nurse is an executive. She provides tremendous learning opportunities and wellness programs. One of my favorite classes is called "Fitness for Life."
When my Real Husband was ill I thought I was really on top of things. But sometimes I couldn't get the equipment we needed because it was so expensive - and insurance wouldn't pay. I would call her and she'd say "Tell the doctor to write the prescription exactly like this." I would and insurance paid.
But she also takes blood pressure readings.
On Sunday morning she's the one who got me headed to the hospital.
Yesterday I was in a meeting and feeling woozy. I went to her office. She took my B/P and sent me directly to Urgent Care where I spent a few hours.
She's spent lots of time talking me through all of the steps I need to take to get squared away.
She acknowledges that I'm The Strongest Woman in the World but she just called to see how I'm doing.
**
Thursday, November 29, 2007
Wednesday, November 28, 2007
Fur Is For Animals
My niece whom I love, respect and is my blogging mentor, just wrote a blog about her many fur coats.
I don't wear fur. Let me put this another way, I wouldn't be caught dead in a fur coat - so after I die don't try putting me in one for the viewing.
A while back my Boyfriend and I were in having fun in Ketchikan, Alaska. We strolled into a big downtown fur shop. More furs than I'd ever seen. Many little minks gave their lives for this store.
My Boyfriend began telling me about a fur coat he once bought his wife. (We talk a lot about our spouses - all positive.) Since we were the only people in this big place the sales guy was hovering around us listening to our every word.
Finally he became so aggressive that I'm ashamed to say that I had a little fun with him. I tried on a $10,000 coat, swirled around and said in a whisper,
He bought one for his wife so he'd better buy one for me.
Of course, we left the store soon after. Even if I wore fur it would be a waste where I live. The daytime temp rarely drops below 70 degrees.
I don't wear fur. Let me put this another way, I wouldn't be caught dead in a fur coat - so after I die don't try putting me in one for the viewing.
A while back my Boyfriend and I were in having fun in Ketchikan, Alaska. We strolled into a big downtown fur shop. More furs than I'd ever seen. Many little minks gave their lives for this store.
My Boyfriend began telling me about a fur coat he once bought his wife. (We talk a lot about our spouses - all positive.) Since we were the only people in this big place the sales guy was hovering around us listening to our every word.
Finally he became so aggressive that I'm ashamed to say that I had a little fun with him. I tried on a $10,000 coat, swirled around and said in a whisper,
He bought one for his wife so he'd better buy one for me.
Of course, we left the store soon after. Even if I wore fur it would be a waste where I live. The daytime temp rarely drops below 70 degrees.
Tuesday, November 27, 2007
All Drugged Up
I just spent 2 days in the hospital because my B/P went kafluey again. I though maybe I was having a stroke but after all the testing they essentially said,
Get out of here. We need your bed for somebody who's, you know, sick.
One the one hand, it's nice to know that my health is practically perfect. On the other, I have a problem that just won't get fixed.
I'm now looking for a cardiologist who doesn't think a spiking blood pressure is boring.
I went back to the hospital this morning to buy a copy of my patient records at one dollar per page. You would think it wouldn't be much for two days of testing but it set me back the price of dinner and a movie.
And it wasn't very interesting reading. What do you make of this phrase?
A female of moderate development
Is that an insult?
Get out of here. We need your bed for somebody who's, you know, sick.
One the one hand, it's nice to know that my health is practically perfect. On the other, I have a problem that just won't get fixed.
I'm now looking for a cardiologist who doesn't think a spiking blood pressure is boring.
I went back to the hospital this morning to buy a copy of my patient records at one dollar per page. You would think it wouldn't be much for two days of testing but it set me back the price of dinner and a movie.
And it wasn't very interesting reading. What do you make of this phrase?
A female of moderate development
Is that an insult?
Saturday, November 24, 2007
No Movie for Old Women
My friends and I saw "No Country for Old Men" last night. It might surprise you that we would even see this movie but I like irony. And the Coens are all about irony.
By the way, as a little aside, I heard that the Josh Brolin part was offered to him by mistake. They thought they were offering the part to his dad, James Brolin (Babs' husband.) It makes sense because (as the title states) it deals with the inability of old people to handle the violence of life. While we learn that Josh Brolin was a retired Viet Nam vet and oil digger, he just doesn't look the part.
I loved "Fargo." This movie is a lot like "Fargo." It begins with a crime gone wrong. To me the violence is tongue in cheek. Like the guy in the wood chipper in "Fargo."
Early on in "No Country for Old Men" when the sheriff and deputy come upon a scene of exceptional carnage - bodies everywhere - the deputy points to two bodies in suits and says, in his Texas twang, something like "These guys look managerial."
There isn't much dialogue but if you listen closely, you'll hear some funny stuff. The mother in law is hysterical. As are all of the desk clerks.
But here's what I think the movie is about: Evil. We all have it in us but the bad guy in this movie is pure evil.
Josh Brolin did some bad stuff but his big mistake was having compassion for a dying man early on.
I hated the ending. Evil wins. Even after two hours (and you know my limit is one and a half) and the screen went dark I looked at my friend and said "Is this the intermission?"
Listen to the sheriff's speech toward the end when he's telling his wife about his dream. That's about all the satisfaction you're going to get.
Listen up Coen Brothers, people, even old women, don't like to leave unsatisfied.
By the way, as a little aside, I heard that the Josh Brolin part was offered to him by mistake. They thought they were offering the part to his dad, James Brolin (Babs' husband.) It makes sense because (as the title states) it deals with the inability of old people to handle the violence of life. While we learn that Josh Brolin was a retired Viet Nam vet and oil digger, he just doesn't look the part.
I loved "Fargo." This movie is a lot like "Fargo." It begins with a crime gone wrong. To me the violence is tongue in cheek. Like the guy in the wood chipper in "Fargo."
Early on in "No Country for Old Men" when the sheriff and deputy come upon a scene of exceptional carnage - bodies everywhere - the deputy points to two bodies in suits and says, in his Texas twang, something like "These guys look managerial."
There isn't much dialogue but if you listen closely, you'll hear some funny stuff. The mother in law is hysterical. As are all of the desk clerks.
But here's what I think the movie is about: Evil. We all have it in us but the bad guy in this movie is pure evil.
Josh Brolin did some bad stuff but his big mistake was having compassion for a dying man early on.
I hated the ending. Evil wins. Even after two hours (and you know my limit is one and a half) and the screen went dark I looked at my friend and said "Is this the intermission?"
Listen to the sheriff's speech toward the end when he's telling his wife about his dream. That's about all the satisfaction you're going to get.
Listen up Coen Brothers, people, even old women, don't like to leave unsatisfied.
Friday, November 23, 2007
Breaking Up is Hard to Do
Lately a couple of people have asked me how I come up with ideas. I don't know. They just come.
I invited some close friends of my Boyfriend to visit us when he's here this winter. She just wrote to thank me but said they wouldn't be able to make it this time.
In writing her back, my first inclination was to say "Come anytime."
You're welcome here even if my Boyfriend and I should break up and he sends my stuff back to me in a cardboard box and I put his stuff in a cardboard box and set fire to it in the living room.
But that would be silly. Because at our age probably the only reason we would break up is because one of us totally loses our marbles or dies.
And it would be silly because saying the above would make no sense to her.
But it makes sense to you, doesn't it?
I invited some close friends of my Boyfriend to visit us when he's here this winter. She just wrote to thank me but said they wouldn't be able to make it this time.
In writing her back, my first inclination was to say "Come anytime."
You're welcome here even if my Boyfriend and I should break up and he sends my stuff back to me in a cardboard box and I put his stuff in a cardboard box and set fire to it in the living room.
But that would be silly. Because at our age probably the only reason we would break up is because one of us totally loses our marbles or dies.
And it would be silly because saying the above would make no sense to her.
But it makes sense to you, doesn't it?
Thursday, November 22, 2007
I'm Thankful I Don't Have to Shop Tomorrow
Everybody loves to shop. That's everybody except me. I do not like to shop! But even those of you who do will have to admit that the Friday After Thanksgiving shopping day (Black Friday) is getting out of hand.
The mall that's 5 minutes from my house will open at 1:00 A.M. in the morning - serving coffee and donuts. They're calling it "Rockin Shoppin Eve." Can you imagine all those crazed shoppers loaded with sugar and caffeine?
So if you're planning to leave the house and 5:00 A.M. tomorrow, forget it. You're a slacker.
A couple of weeks ago a new IKEA store opened in my city. People began lining up two and a half DAYS prior to the opening. A reporter who, himself, had not heard of an IKEA store a week prior to this event, interviewed some of those in line. A few of them STILL didn't know what it was.
A couple of years ago my eye doctor moved his office into a super Wal-Mart. The first time there (and my first time ever in a super Wal-Mart) I was almost hyperventilating before reaching his office. I had to pass a McDonald's, a bank, a hair salon and a financial planner - all inside the Wal-Mart!
I have an eye appointment on Monday morning. Afterwards, I'm not leaving the big Wal-Mart until I buy every single item I think I might need to prepare for the holidays.
Then I can relax.
The mall that's 5 minutes from my house will open at 1:00 A.M. in the morning - serving coffee and donuts. They're calling it "Rockin Shoppin Eve." Can you imagine all those crazed shoppers loaded with sugar and caffeine?
So if you're planning to leave the house and 5:00 A.M. tomorrow, forget it. You're a slacker.
A couple of weeks ago a new IKEA store opened in my city. People began lining up two and a half DAYS prior to the opening. A reporter who, himself, had not heard of an IKEA store a week prior to this event, interviewed some of those in line. A few of them STILL didn't know what it was.
A couple of years ago my eye doctor moved his office into a super Wal-Mart. The first time there (and my first time ever in a super Wal-Mart) I was almost hyperventilating before reaching his office. I had to pass a McDonald's, a bank, a hair salon and a financial planner - all inside the Wal-Mart!
I have an eye appointment on Monday morning. Afterwards, I'm not leaving the big Wal-Mart until I buy every single item I think I might need to prepare for the holidays.
Then I can relax.
Thanksgiving
Today is Turkey Day and I'm feeling so very thankful.
Last night I had dinner with some of my cool friends. We kept them up late because nobody wanted to leave.
This morning I went to church to see if I could help prepare dinner for the homeless families that have been invited. But my help wasn't needed. There were almost as many volunteers as place settings at the tables. And lovely tables they were, laden with linens, silverware and harvest centerpieces.
So I left my pies and went for a walk on the most beautiful avenue in the world until time for the worship service to start at 10 A.M.
Last week when I returned home from my trip I learned that a man, whom I (and half the people in my city) love and respect - had a heart attack. He's much younger than me. He's a doctor and his nurse diagnosed the heart attack, called 911 and he was in the E.R. lickity split. He received a stint and went home a few days ago.
He was in the worship service this morning and helped the minister serve communion.
After conversations with him and other friends I headed for my son's home where I played with his two pre school daughters for a while. They're hysterical. One had on a Bell costume and the other, well I don't know. I can't keep those Disney princesses straight.
When I got home I had an ooy gooy voice mail from my Boyfriend.
And it's only 1 PM!!
A family Thanksgiving dinner still awaits. I heard on the radio that we'll be having turducken. That's a chicken stuffed inside a duck stuffed inside a turkey.
My minister told a story this morning about Rudyard Kipling. I've heard it before so it must be true.
When Kipling was in his prime as a writer in 18th century England he was said to earn 28 shillings per word. Some college students sent him 28 shillings and asked that he send them his best word.
A while later, and to their surprise, they received a telegram from Rudyard Kipling. It contained one word.
"Thanks."
Last night I had dinner with some of my cool friends. We kept them up late because nobody wanted to leave.
This morning I went to church to see if I could help prepare dinner for the homeless families that have been invited. But my help wasn't needed. There were almost as many volunteers as place settings at the tables. And lovely tables they were, laden with linens, silverware and harvest centerpieces.
So I left my pies and went for a walk on the most beautiful avenue in the world until time for the worship service to start at 10 A.M.
Last week when I returned home from my trip I learned that a man, whom I (and half the people in my city) love and respect - had a heart attack. He's much younger than me. He's a doctor and his nurse diagnosed the heart attack, called 911 and he was in the E.R. lickity split. He received a stint and went home a few days ago.
He was in the worship service this morning and helped the minister serve communion.
After conversations with him and other friends I headed for my son's home where I played with his two pre school daughters for a while. They're hysterical. One had on a Bell costume and the other, well I don't know. I can't keep those Disney princesses straight.
When I got home I had an ooy gooy voice mail from my Boyfriend.
And it's only 1 PM!!
A family Thanksgiving dinner still awaits. I heard on the radio that we'll be having turducken. That's a chicken stuffed inside a duck stuffed inside a turkey.
My minister told a story this morning about Rudyard Kipling. I've heard it before so it must be true.
When Kipling was in his prime as a writer in 18th century England he was said to earn 28 shillings per word. Some college students sent him 28 shillings and asked that he send them his best word.
A while later, and to their surprise, they received a telegram from Rudyard Kipling. It contained one word.
"Thanks."
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