Night shift

We don't call it graveyard in my line of work......

I am sitting here at 9:47 in the a.m., drinking what some people would suggest rehab for, should they catch me at it. But, for me it's more than "five o'clock somewhere", it's actually about a quarter to eight in the evening for me. While I ate supper several hours ago, the bars were just closing, so I had to wait until I got home.
Nightshift workers live in a very different world. Thankfully, the rooster worked nights for long enough that he understands. Greybeard understands. My children learned very quickly.....observed it most of the time. If your name was NOT God, you did NOT get to talk to their Mom during the day after she had worked the night before. No, not even if your hair was on fire. My Mom works very hard at trying to understand,I think hers is more forgetfulness than anything, and not remembering my schedule.
I thought I was a night person for years. First worked the 3-11 pm shift, then would go home and watch old movies for hours before going to bed. Partly because I had to wind down, and partly because I always have liked to stay up late, sleep in late. Drove my Dad nuts! He was one of those guys who got up at 0 dark thirty, got to work an hour before he had to.....HE drove the rest of us nuts! But, when I started working the 11p-7a shift, I found out I wasn't the night person I thought I was. Very different! When you get to bed when it is still dark out, you can generally get to sleep before the world wakes up and starts making the racket that the daytime world makes. The world is VERY noisy when the sun is up. I had to leave the phones on while my kids were in school, in case of emergencies. I would answer the phone, obviously groggy. I didn't care, I worked NIGHTS for heaven's sake!! And I would get "Oh, you're still in bed?" This is at 10 am, I had been in bed one hour.
I don't even get to sleep....to an astounding number of people what I do is "nap". No wonder I feel like crap so often, if all I do is nap!!! Would wear anybody down!
I now do 12 hour shifts, 7p-7a. If they told me I had to go back to 11-7, I would tell them adios. I love it. Still no "suits" hanging around, the time goes fast because the first 5 hours is very busy. I can tuck my patients in much more comfortably, (but, don't get the idea they all sleep....they most certainly do NOT) and do my charting at a little more leisurely pace. I do 3-4 day stretches, and while that means all I get done in that time frame is work and sleep, that schedule provides me with more consecutive days off to recover, get stuff done that night shift workers don't get done, because they are sleeping when all the "productive people" are at work running their stores, offices, etc. It was a Godsend when my Daddy was sick, I had six day stretches off, and could go on my 700 mile one way trips to check on him and not take vacation days to do it. AND drive at night when the contruction crews were gone and traffic much better.
You pray for dayshift neighbors with no kids, or at least people who stay in their houses all day. I had a neighbor for awhile who would tune his Harley by ear during the day....his garage pointed directly at my bedroom window......POWPOW, POTATOPOTATO,POWPOWPOW, POTATOPOTATOPOTATO,POWPOWPOW!!! I would finally get up, hair sticking up all over, hounds from hell look on my face, in my nightgown, and go out and around the fence, screaming, TOMMY! POTATOPOTATOPOTATO, POWPOWPOW!!...Tommy!!!!.....POWPOWPOW,POTATO....TTTTTTOOOOOOMMMMMMMMMMMMYYYYYY!!!!!!!
He would look up finally, and with a stricken look on his face, nearly knock the bike over, apologizing profusely. We finally worked out a signal so he would know when his life might be in danger.
It's tough to switch back and forth sometimes from the nights I work to ty to have a "normal" family life, and I am sometimes unsuccessful. It takes a day or two to get there, quite often, so it's a good thing I get a few off in a row. Try to be at all the family get-togethers? Forget it!! It's against the law for them to occur on your normal days off. My schedule goes for 6 weeks at a time, so no impromptu plans for me, thank you very much! We try to cover for each other for the really important stuff, but we also try not to ask, because we know how badly it screws everybody's lives up for them to cover for you. And forget making a Doctor's appointment...not only do you have to contend with your six week's schedule, for them you have to plan ahead for 2 or 3 months. If you can't get an early am appointment, or one on your usual day off, you end up cancelling them. I need my brain, my brain needs sleep, or people die. Simple as that.
In spite of all the hassles that go with working nights, I still love it. If my patient is frightened, I am much more likely to have time to hold their hand and talk to them about what is making them frightened, or talk to them until I talk them out of it. I am much more likely to have time to really read the chart and be able to put 2 and 2 and 2 together and come up with 6. It has actually happened many times that I was the only person who did. Day people just don't have the time to read the chart. There is much we can't take care of, answers we don't have access to, things we can't schedule, until the "normal" world shows up again, but we are champions at leaving notes for people who follow us so they can do it. We tend to usher more people to the "ECU" (Eternal Care Unit) than days....studies were done that showed people tended to pass away more often between 2 am and 5am than any other time. (Don't look for the footnote and reference, it won't be there). I wonder if it is because the noise and chaos keeps them aware and tied to the world, and they are able to just let go more easily in the calmer atmosphere of nighttime?
Many years ago, my Dad got upset with me while I was visiting because I didn't get up and get ready for church when he thought I should. I was probably in my 40's....I knew just how long it takes me to get ready. I heard him mumbling JUST loud enough for me to hear "Dadblamed people stay up all night, and then expect to be able to get anything done during the day!!" Oh, boy. Hit me JUST wrong. I began to tell him in no uncertain terms that if it weren't for people like me, there would be no electricity during the night (something he could relate to), houses would burn completely to the ground in the night, stores and houses would be robbed at crook's leisure, there would be no one to fly people to the hospital after a bad car accident in the night, and PEOPLE WOULD DIE WITH NO ONE TO HOLD THEIR HANDS!!!! He never mentioned anything like that to me again. It had been one of his lifelong favorite themes until that day.
So, next time you get up in the middle of the night to go pee, think about us, but PLEASE, don't call us between 9am and 5pm to tell us you did!!

Ole Prairie Dog

He's a Grandpa......and oh, boy, does he ever love the role. Father's day is coming. I have no idea what kind of Father he was to his kids....can't imagine that he would be a bad one. But, just like my Dad, I suspect being a Grandpa is at least as big a joy, and as big a lesson for him as it was my Dad.
The reason I can't imagine him being bad at either job is because when I think of him, I feel a gentle soul nearby. Gentle giant fits him, especially since I am only 5'(almost)4".
I was 14, going to Savannah Ga, to visit with my brother, who was stationed there in the army. He lived in one of the really old houses that later was part of a historical restoration project. Two stories, fireplaces in bedrooms. He had two roommates, one was Young Prairie dog......
My brother was pretty busy, so PD took over my care and feeding for a lot of the visit. He was in his 20's, I can't imagine that watching after me had been on his agenda. I remember that one of the places he took me was to the beach, a real treat for me, I had not seen that much sand or water too many times in my life. Then we went to a party at a beach house where there were guitars and folk songs, and a bunch of people who didn't seem to mind that there was a bratty little sister in the mix.
We rode around in a Mustang, "THE" car in my mind at the time, that or a camero....but 14, with a tall, good looking "older" man ferrying me around in a really cool Mustang? OH,MY! And, he was smiling and seeming to have as much fun as I was having. I was just a little bit in love.........
He told me of his true love, Flame. Showed me her picture. Yes, a georgous redhead, Flame fit her well. His whole body language changed when he spoke of her. Not too many years later, they were married, and they are together still. They have been through some things that might have torn others apart, seems to me like it cemented them even more. He helped care for her parents for several years, under circumstances that might have cracked them both. They both survived, and seemingly, very well. I hope I am right.
One time, I was chatting with my Bro, in passing, telling him I wish we could go play golf at the local Navy course here. He could get us in because of being a retiree. This conversation evolved into plans for a reunion of the Savannah bunch, and others they had known during their service time. OPD was broached about this, and being a nearly rabid golfing enthusiast, was all for it. OPD was coming to MY town! I was looking forward to it all, but my favorite part was going to be seeing him again, and meeting Flame. Flame was coming with him, then parental duties prevented that from happening. I hated that more than they will ever know, I wanted to meet her, how could I not love her as well, since he loved her so much?
He came, we golfed , we went out to eat, we had a wonderful time. I still loved him. Not the crushy love of a fourteen year old, but the love of a person who has chosen this person to be a brother of her heart. Chosen to make sure that the ties would never be broken. Chosen to celebrate with them everything that makes them joyous, grieve with them over everything that makes them sad. Checking every day through cyberspace for things that affect their lives. Makes them laugh, makes them mad, makes them think. I am thankful for the technology that gives us something that makes it so easy to keep in touch in all our busy lives.
I have other brothers....in laws and outlaws.....but, I have 2 favorites. This is an ode to one of them.

Father's Day

Coming up, this Sunday.......I think about my Dad alot, all the time, but things like this make me think in more detail about what he was to me. I am finding it very interesting as the rest of the family and I talk about him, how different a person he was to each of them than he was to me. It has made me realize that I , too, am probably a different person to everyone in my life, and it makes me very curious to know how each person in my life might describe me.
I know I am different in big ways to each of my children, because I was in very different places in my life when each of them was born. Almost everything about my life was VERY different, except, ironically, both of their fathers were abusive to me. One, because he was a baby with too many responsibilities, the other was, and is, mentally ill, but functional enough in the world to not be put away. They were both physically abusive, but the worst of the two was the one who was more psychologically abusive, he left many more scars, changed me in ways that I'm sure, I'm not even aware of. I consider myself a reasonably intelligent person, in some things above average, but a recent discussion with my brother revealed,we both believe that being intelligent doesn't always mean you are smart. I will blog about this at some later time, mostly for those people, who, when they learn about someone who is living in an abusive situation will have answers to "why doesn't she just leave?".
Fortunately, my Dad was not the kind of person who would whop on his kids. I don't know how many times he may have lain a hand on my brother, but I only remember a couple of times he spanked me. The last time, we both had tears in our eyes when he did it. I had stood up for something I believed in, but because he had already told me he was going to do it, he had to stick to his word. I KNOW, tho, that when he had heard me out, he really didn't want to anymore.
My Mom had the dirty job of discipline, most of the time. Daddy was raised with the idea that the kids are the woman's job, and he came to regret that belief at a later time, and to his credit, admitted it. But, he didn't ignore us. He was around when my then teenage brother was working on his cars with his friends. He didn't take the work out of their hands, he was just there should they need some advice or help. They learned what they needed to know to fix their cars instead of having to stand back and watch "how a pro does it". I hung out in the garage with him for hours on end. We may not have said ten words to each other during those times, but I was close to him, knew he was close to me, and NEVER felt like he would rather I would go back in the house. I would be his "tool hander" when he was working on cars, airplanes, lawnmowers, and because of this, I know some (very) basic mechanics, and at least know what tools are what and when they are used. He let me play on the Gravely tractor for hours, let me till the garden, mow the lawn, haul stuff in the wagon when I was probably way too small to be doing such things.In later years I got compliments on my painting skills when I was in the Navy, and I knew even then it was because he had taught me how to do it properly. My co-workers now tell people, "give it to Mommanurse, if she can't fix it, it will have to go back to Biomed" Thank you, Daddy, I think. My blood pressure machine's tubes and wires are always curled properly and not all tangled up, because I am as anal about that as Daddy. My patients get tired of watching me untangle things, I think they would rather I just get their vitals, and get out of their hair.
He didn't suffer fools gladly, and nowdays,I say in my Dad's honor,"Dadblamed idiots" when I see somebody who is doing or thinking a foolish thing. If you are an idiot, that is one thing, if you are a Dadblamed idiot, there is just no hope for you.
There are so many things he gave me, but you have heard me speak before of a "safe place to be." He was the first, and the most important to give me a safe place to be. My Daddy "can do anything", and when I was with him, he didn't lecture me, he didn't probe me for info about where I had been or who I had been with. He was just WITH me. While that was not really fair to my Mom, it was wonderful to have. I was just ok, exactly the way I was. Much of my environment was of a judgemental nature. I was the kind of kid who took much of that to heart, so I really needed to have somebody that I could go to and feel like I was perfectly alright, just the way I was. I only heard him say a curseword twice in my life, once was in a joke, the other time was when I had broken my arm, and he felt I was not getting proper care. The people he said it to have no idea the importance of that curseword.... a shame, really. They didn't understand that the next thing on the agenda was probably a punch in the nose.
He didn't say the words often when we were kids, but we knew he loved us. At least I did. I was his girl, as most girls are, but I think I also became his friend.
All of the men in my life were measured by his yardstick, and came up wanting, in many ways. The rooster is very like him, in a lot of ways, and mostly the important ones.
Even tho we only saw each other a couple of times a year for many years, I never realized that when he was gone how I would miss him so terribly. Much of my safety is gone, and no one can replace that, because it came from a superhuman, in this little girl's eyes. He tried his best to teach us how to live, and very definitely taught us how to die...in God's arms, and with minimal complaint, with an appreciation for all the good things we've had in our lives. I know I will never meet the mark.
I miss him terribly, but, there are times when I feel his arms around me, saying the things I need to hear, the things he was learning to say when he learned his time was short. I ask him to meet my dying patients in case they have no one to help them adjust, and to take them on an airplane ride......he has the keys to every one ever made, and the keys to every that will ever be made, in his heaven.
On this Father's day, I will be watching my husband continue to cement his once broken relationship with his son. I will thank God for it, and be thankful that I had the one I had. I do, and will continue to tell people about him, until we meet again. And while I wish I could see him soon, I'm not ready to leave my peeps here to do it. I know it's not my time, and my Daddy will wait for us.
Happy Father's Day, Daddy, you're one of the great ones.