Showing posts with label missoula. Show all posts
Showing posts with label missoula. Show all posts

25 February 2012

Visiting Birds



My moleskine is now 31 pages in, but a good 10 pages are yet to be coloured. I've been drawing china tea cups, and they do not finish well in ink or even magic marker...watercolour is definitely called for.

But here are some birds that I was able to finish. Crows, sparrows, and starlings come to my window every day. There are 5 crows who come right up next to me when the window is open. I coo at them, and they coo back. (anything for a few peanuts...)

08 September 2011

hello.


I think this little guy was waiting to see if the peanut was going to move...

15 March 2010

I was a Nurse.

I became a CNA in the late 70s. I attended a single-semester (15 weeks/8hours per day) program in northern California, my first four weeks in a classroom and lab, where our instructors (RNs) showed us how to check vitals, wash hands, and give proper backrubs. For good measure they threw in a wee bit of anatomy. They taught us how to make beds.

The final 10 weeks were spent in clinical. Depending on your standing in the class, your acute : long-term experience ratio could be portioned anywhere from 2:8 weeks to 8:2 weeks. I was scheduled to a long-term care facility for two weeks, and to one of the local hospitals for eight.

To say I loved my work at the hospital is an understatement - I felt as though I'd found a new and better religion. At the end of my third day on the medical ward at Fremont Hospital, I was offered a job. And the day after I received my certification I started getting paid for doing something I would have done for the rest of my life for free.

For a few years I worked as a nurse's aide, both in northern California and in northern Montana. But the economy went south, and Tom got laid off. A man who could not not work, Tom went back into the Corps.

We moved to Camp Pendleton/Oceanside, where btw, there were no immediate openings for CNAs. Even for one with a few years post-surgical experience and a bevy of references. So I took a job as a cook, and I stayed a cook for the entirety of Tom's re-enlistment. And while at Pendleton, I attended a local community college, and started working on my general education requirements. (expository writing, chemistry, biology...)

As soon as his new obligation was fulfilled, we came back to Montana. But with no shortage of LPN and RN students, the hospitals in my area were not interested in a CNA who hadn't worked acute-care for over four years. So I settled for long-term. I hated it, but I stuck with it till we could afford the tuition for the LPN program.

It was a vocational program lasting four quarters (48 of 52 weeks). The first two were didactic, and the balance was made up of clinical rotations through the different wards of both hospitals, and in OB, Psych, ER, OR, and even a week in a doctor's office.

I started the program with 22 classmates, but only 5 of us made it to clinical. The first two quarters were like finals week the entire stretch. I felt as though I'd crammed the first 6 months of school. My brain was full. And as I hit that wall, I wondered - Was this a stupid idea? Am I going to have wasted all this money and time, only to find out I hate nursing?

[But] my very first day, my very first hour, on 4-south (a post-surgical ward) at Saint Patrick's Hospital, it was as though the Holy Spirit, Himself, had washed through my body. I'd come home.
- - - -

I took the long way to my RN. After graduating from the Vo-Tech, I re-enlisted in the Army. And even afterwards, when I got back home, I still worked for another year or so as an LPN.

And then, even as I attended university, I didn't focus on a Nursing degree. The Course Catalogue was a candy store. There wasn't a subject I wasn't interesting in learning. Overall, in addition to my non-transferable Vo-Tech credits, (and my post-graduate credits), I racked up some 170 undergrad-credits, only 64 of which were part of my nursing component. If I had been independently wealthy, I would have stayed in school till I exhausted the entire catalogue.

Okay. So this entry is to respond to something an LVN (whom blogger.com had to bar from stalking this blog) wrote: that I never discuss my experiences as an RN. I'm not sure what she's looking for. Something exciting? Something extra? I can't help but notice from her posts that she names names of patients she's had that were celebrities. Hm. Did I assist in any surgeries on any well-know personalities/politicians or their families? Yes. Will I drop names? No, and hell no.

Did I participate in exciting, complicated procedures/surgery? Sure. Did my RN make a difference? Absolutely. Did all that extra schooling help? Yes. Did any of it become old hat? No. Every evening before any scheduled procedures, I would review the patients' charts, I would review their pathologies, and I would review the procedure itself (including imaging myself going through the motions). Every single time.

But it's redundant to post about it. I am a nurse. These things are what being a nurse is all about.

So, what does she want to hear? Something extraordinary? How about the time several of us brought party balloons into an empty OR on April Fools Day, and breathed in the gas before calling the front desk to report a Helium leak?

Or maybe time I sank to my knees sobbing, because an old man I recognized from choir died before we could stop his spleen from spilling the 8 units of whole blood the 2 circulating nurses were squeezing into him?

Or the time I climbed into bed with a 3-day, post-MVA alcoholic, screaming in terror at snakes in his water pitcher, so that I could prevent him from further gouging his lips and eyes?

I'm sorry to disappoint, but while nursing is an extraordinary profession, it is not a profession for those who seek the extraordinary. Our work is honest, simple, no matter the scope/extent of our education. We solve problems. We figure out best how to keep a patient oxygenated, nourished, eased from pain, rested, healing...safe.

Not 6 months before I was diagnosed with this stupid IQ-stealing tumor, a student RN rotating through the OR wanted to observe the open reduction and repair of a Le Fort II fracture. I let her scrub in and stand beside me. (As first assistant I stood opposite the surgeon, and our scrub tech stood beside him.) The student was so excited, I thought she was gonna wet herself. She was fascinated by the itty bitty-ness of the implants. A woman after my own heart, I appreciated what she was going through.

She had hundreds of questions about Advanced Practice nursing, but only one do I remember clearly. She asked me, "What do you like best about Nursing?"

I told her, "Making beds."

21 October 2009

Gold

It doesn't really glitter, does it? It radiates flawlessly - rich, warm, and clear.

This morning I was held in the palms of radiance. She pressed me against her cheek, and traced a finger along my jaw.

The thermometers would probably read 20 above, but the winds from the Hellgate were blowing something fierce. I was walking towards the Rattlesnake Creek, hoping to spot a family of Ravens who'd started hanging around one of the bridges there.

I was near the parking lot of the Missoula Children's Theatre when, suddenly, I was lifted in a glow, held in love and pure light - for one moment. I'm not describing an epiphany...there were no revelations - just a wave of pure joy.

So simply made. Yellow light from a street lamp spilling over the flaxen leaves of a Birch and its peeling white bark, reaching for me in the pale grasses.

25 May 2009

In't he cute?

(ante script: If babytalk offends thee, do not click on this video.)


We're not supposed to keep pets, but what the landlord doesn't know...

I wonder - should I name him, or keep calling him Sweetheart?


In relation to my comments to Mick, here's a photo of Marmalade running away with a (nearly empty) jar of peanut butter.
[click image for a larger, better view]

18 May 2009

Another Ghost

Night slips
into black silk,
and breathing stills.

Lilac floats
on swollen air.

I wait
in full blossom,
my feet warm
in the spreading moss.

A cricket calls, lonely,
from another valley,
in another hollow.
Another shadow,

another pause.

© 2003

If this old poem has posted without an illustration (and/or with this attached note), it is because I'm just not up to editing it before publishing. I have seven or so entries scheduled to post: two for May; one for June; and two more for September, and then some later.


I hope to be up and visiting everyone soon.

27 April 2009

Osprey

A few days ago I looked up, and saw an Osprey.
He saw me back. He looked down, and he asked, "Are you food? Cuz you kinda look like food."

10 March 2009

Mo

A year after Miss Thing passed away, we decided we might be ready to let another cat into our hearts. We'd planned to pick one up from the shelter, when we spotted the ad in the Missoulian, “Two Mousers for Free.”

So we drove out to a ranch in the Potomac, and brought home two cats. Females. Half-wild, they'd lived most of their lives in a barn. We named them Harriet and Maureen – Harry and Mo.

We hadn't had them a day, and Harry disappeared never to be seen again. We lived at the foot of Mount Jumbo, and I prefer to believe that she’d decided to live out the rest of her life free. She obviously didn't like the idea of living in a house, and there were probably some juicy, fat mice running around up there.


But Mo liked us. She loved us, in fact. She especially loved sleeping on us…on our laps, on Tom's shoulders, or tangled up in my hair.

It wasn’t long before we realized Mo was pregnant. We suspected that she came to us this way. And we might have taken her back, but we already loved her too much to let her go. So we took her to the Vet’s for a prenatal check-up. Turned out she was very pregnant, only a couple of weeks from delivering.

I cleared out one of the drawers in our highboy, and lined it with cedar shavings, newspaper, and wide strips of flannel, torn from an old sheet. I slid it more than halfway under my side of the bed, so that just a few inches would poke out. I figured it’d be dark and private in there, but easy for her to climb into. And it sure seemed like she approved, because I found her sleeping in there the evening before she delivered.

That night Tom and I were sleeping, cuddled up in our comfy new queen-sized Serta, and Mo was cuddled up, too, on my pillow, her body nestled in my hair…

In the wee hours of the morning, I woke to the sound of her crying. Meowing. But when I heard her purring in my ear, I let myself drift back to sleep. I figured I must've been dreaming. But then she cried out again.

Half asleep, I reached up to pet her. It's okay, sweetheart. Wassa matter? Mommy's here.

But my hand didn't pet Mo. It touched something not-Mo. And it was then that I realized that my hair was wet, and there was something besides Mo sitting it. Something soggy. Something lumpy. And what the hell's that smell?

I jumped outta bed, screaming bloody murder, with this wet thing in my hand, ready to throw it across the room. Tom woke with my scream, and turned on the light.

My hair, my face, and my pillow were dripping with goo, poo, and amniotic fluid. And the soggy thing in my hand? A newborn kitten.

While Tom stayed in bed laughing, I moved mom and first-born kitty to the dresser drawer, and she delivered kitten number two.

I stayed with Mo, crooning and cooing while she delivered two more. And still chuckling, Tom removed the soiled sheets, and tossed my pillow in the trash can, outside.

Once we were certain Mo was no longer in labor, Tom took over with the reassuring noises. And until we ran out of hot water, I stood in the shower, shampooing sticky poo out of my hair.

04 March 2009

some quickie photos

These are some shots of birdies in Missoula. I used my digital camera, but only had it set on the lowest resolution, so the pictures were small. But still - they're birds.






Here is a photo I took today (11mar09) of a crow...

18 February 2009

And so it starts...

snowdrops

Crocus are popping up. Soon it will be the Daffodils and the Hyacinth...Spring is coming.

16 January 2009

Pale



A week or so ago, I was walking along the Rattlesnake, and a pale blue-grey heron flew past. Naturally, everything was frozen over...and where the ice wasn't so thick, and where there was no snow...the creek looked a pale seafoam green, but I chose to draw the heron flying over warm waters...

03 August 2008

little poof

click to enlarge


Have you noticed how some fledglings look like little poofs of dryer lint?

[click image for detail]

16 January 2008

Approaching

Missoula buses talk to us now. They're not reciting poetry or anything like that. (If we're so inclined, we need only look up, and there's plenty on the ceiling.)

Nope. Missoula's busses offer cheer:
Welcome, and Happy Holidays from the staff at Mountain Line.

They caution us:
Remain seated until bus comes to a complete stop.
Do not talk to the operator while bus is in motion.


And they tell us where we are:
Now approaching Russell and Wyoming.
Now approaching Missoula Library - Front and Adams.


Listening to this for 20 some minutes is incredibly annoying, I can't imagine what it's like for the drivers who hear it all day long.

This morning, I was on Route 1, and the bus I boarded was in an especially chatty mood. For every stop along the route, we were reminded twice of its approach. And then we started approaching Brooks and Sussex. A good 4 blocks out, my helpful bus made sure to tell us. Then, about 2 blocks out, it reminded us again. And then a block out, and then yet again, when we were caught at the traffic light at the corner of Brooks and Sussex, it told us twice more, "now approaching - Brooks and Sussex. (Maybe Zeno had a point.)

I asked the driver, "does it ever approach orgasm?"

He didn't skip a beat. "Only if you rub the seats."

06 January 2008

Serendipity

This last Fall, I kinda followed the progress in the construction of a new wall and stairs of an apartment complex in my neighborhood, documenting some of it with photos.

Repair of the wall
was a long time coming. It had gotten so bad that I was almost afraid to walk past it for fear that it would burst, and all the earth, junipers, iron fencing, and building sitting atop would avalanche, burying me right along with passing cars.

Noting that the largest crack in the wall
was actually moving outward about half an inch a day, I started to record the wall’s deterioration with my little cheapy, digital camera. Every day for 4 days, I took a picture.

On the 5th day, I came down the walk to find that the wall was gone,
and the property had been cordoned off with orange plastic fencing. There was a great hole, and I couldn’t imagine living in that corner of the building without worrying that the floor was going to fall through. I took a picture.

I found the process of repair fascinating. In order to construct a wall stable enough to hold back tons and tons of earth, they had to secure a foundation, which meant tearing out the existing sidewalk, along with the flight of stairs leading up into the building. The whole yard looked like a bomb had taken it out. No lawn, no sidewalk, no stairs…the demolished wall was in piles 8-feet high, in the yard and out in the street. I took more pictures.

Forms for the wall’s foundation were built, concrete was poured, and left to set for a week. Then, they went through the process all over again for the wall itself. A great 7-foot vertical, wooden face, gridded, and sprouting with rebar stood for weeks in the wind and snow, while the concrete inside hardened and cured. I wanted to document the small changes…snow on this day, ice on the next…the movement of dirt and broken concrete, hauled away bit by bit. The photos could have been in black and white, except for the plastic – orange fencing and traffic cones to warn off the curious. But still, I took pictures.

Then finally the forms came down. And the welders came, moving in their auras of arcing blue and white sparkle…they strung the yard with black shiny iron…a new fence along the top of the wall, a guardrail for the new wheelchair-accessible sidewalk, and handrails for the stairs. Naturally, I took pictures.

All these pictures, weeks of pictures - 2MB files, dozens and dozens, and I never really looked closely at any of them. It was enough to know that I’d made the captures...until they started filling up my hard-drive and hogging my laptop’s RAM. I noticed that my Public Pictures folder was taking a long time to load. So I organized…I decided to choose, to search for favorites, and delete the rest. A tedious job to be sure, opening each and every photograph…

Bits of glass; bits of pink; bits of crack.

Even such ultra-large pixel shots don’t look like much when you see them in the camera’s window. They don’t look like much when transferring to the files on your computer, either. But honey, when you actually open them up, they fill your entire screen, and you see things you didn’t even know were there in the shot when you made the original capture – Like where the sun has slipped under pebbles of glass, the tiny streaks of pink in what you thought were
plain bits of orange plastic…and in the shadows of a stairwell, a young man’s pants held not by his hips, but by his thighs.

05 January 2008

eventful morning

I saw a mink today. And I got him on film for just a second...two frames...and even these are poor.

I thought he was an otter*, but someone there explained that he was indeed, a mink. It's the first time I've ever seen a mink in real life.



I also saw a newborn...made a quick sketch.




*a little trivia:
'Otter' shares its etymology with 'water' and 'winter'.

http://www.m-w.com/dictionary/otter
http://www.m-w.com/dictionary/winter

29 November 2007

Chickadee



My little bird didn't start out so little. I shrunk him down to make the haiga.

17 November 2007

Why is this bear smiling?


university montana grizzlies undefeated big sky champions 11 wins

20 September 2007

02 August 2007

The Missing Link

alternately titled: Is the Rodeo in Town, or Did You Lose a Bet?

Never let it be said that Missoula is a town without culture.

This morning, a man in his late 50s got on my bus, and I gotta tell ya, I about lost my breath. He was sporting a mullet. It wasn't overly long in the back - it just touched his collar. But it was a definitely a mullet.

Hey, I liked the mullet on David Bowie. But Achybreaky Heart-Throb
ruined it for me. (Country singers are always a decade behind the trends ) So you gotta understand, when I see The Mullet pop up over the partition on that bus, I'm already smiling to myself.

Next, his shirt comes into view...red-white-and-blue, and very Garth Brooky. But it isn't till he steps fully into the bus that I get the Big Picture.

His first three buttons are undone alá Saturday Night Fever. And naturally, he has accessorized with a gold necklace, and (god help me) matching gold bracelet.

His shirt is tucked over a round tummy into a pair of classic orange Carhartt jeans that are two sizes too small. (Camel Joe Toe??) And to bottom it all out, he has on a pair of Pat Boone's white leather shoes and no socks!

I'm not making this up! It is as though Wicked Fairy Godmothers from 3 decades have visited upon him Embarrassing Clichés of Seasons Past.

As he walks by the only other passenger on the bus, she looks over at me with eyes round as saucers, and brimming with tears, and I know, I'm going to laugh. To save myself, I quickly look out the window, and try to think about the traffic. But when he pivots around into the seat right in front of me, I look back around!

And I'm focused right. there. - right smack dap in the center of the top of his mulleted head - to a patch, perfectly round, shiny and tanned...of baldness.