Facebook Detox

OK, I've done it, I'm giving up FB until my thesis is done. I did it like 2 minutes ago and I'm already anxious for honestly no good reason. My number one reason is I need to get this fucking thesis done... Cue the going back to blogging as a form of procrastination. Yes, writing here again is that but its writing and my thesis supervisor an incredibly smart woman suggests free writing as a way to improve my writing skills. So I'm going to try and write here when the FB urge is strong. I am also going to write my fucking thesis. Goal is to be done by the end of the year, not defend but finish writing. So Dyslexic Girl is back and she going write a 100 page thesis and then pay someone to edit the thing so I don't up having to defend my use of the word "assess" ;)

Getting My Sense of Smell Back

I’m not exactly sure when I lost my sense of smell. Smell is a subtle thing. It was something that faded away without much of a fuss. I don’t even remember having a day when I realized that I had lost my sense of smell. It was a conclusion that I came to over time, as people pointed out smells that I didn’t notice. People usually found out I couldn’t smell when someone would react to a repugnant smell and I would state that I had lost my sense of smell. The funny thing is people would tell me I’m lucky. I never knew how to respond to that, sure I could not smell foul things, but I also couldn’t smell that earthy smell the ground lets out during a summer rain. Eating was not pleasurable as it once was, food was bland. The reason I could no longer smell was nasal polyps in my sinuses had blocked off my olfactory passage. I grow polyps like an invasive plant species in Madagascar. They destroyed everything in their path (my polyps had completely filled, eroded and destroyed my sinuses). I’ve had two surgeries, the first one did nothing more than allow me to breathe through my nose again. The effects were short lived and within six months I was sounding like a pug again when breathing. And while not that relevant the surgeon was also a total dick. The second surgery I had was with a new surgeon, the nasal polyp guy. He was nice and very handsome, which is not extremely relevant apart from I tend to bleed and snot all over him which is embarrassing. He spent over four hours removing polyps and rebuilding my sinuses, he wanted to get every last one of the suckers out. After surgery I could breathe threw my nose again and the results lasted. But still no sense of smell. To manage my polyps (those fuckers grow back at an alarming rate) I have a complex daily routine of rinsing and snorting various steroids up my nose.  I also visit my surgeon every 3-4 months to get my polyp debrided (like a roto router for your nose). But still no smell, it was just life. Then last year I went on a magic study drug. The magic drug that got rid of my asthma also gifted me my sense of smell. One day not that long ago I was sitting on the couch with my partner and a rank smell floated my way. Without even thinking about it I yelled at him “what the fuck is that, it smells like you have a dead fish up your ass” (I’m crude what can I say). Miles (my partner of four years) just looked at me in total shock and surprise. As long as we have been together I have never been able to smell, so he took to the habit of “letting one rip” whenever the need arose. It should be noted that he did take great effort ensuring when he passed gas that there was an audible sound so I would be aware of what he had done. So the first thing I smelled in almost 10 years was a fart, and a rank one at that. My eyes watered up but not because of the smell, but because I could smell. I went and smelling everything. Eating was incredible. When I eat a raspberry for the first time after getting my sense of smell back, memories of eating raspberries in my grandmother’s garden came flooding back. The thing with smell is that they are tied to our memories in a direct neurological way, and you can’t just recall them like an image in your head. While my sense of smell is not great it is there. I’m not sure how long it will be before it’s gone again, but while it lasts I am taking the time to ensure I smell the roses. 

A Short Story of a Red Canoe

The canoe was originally my Grandpapa’s. It is a big red fiberglass canoe, big enough to comfortably fit a family of four. The thing weighs a ton; this was no high tech portable, portaging canoe. It was a canoe you stuck a small outboard motor on and took your family on day adventure on. I don’t know when my father inherited the canoe but I have some happy memories of day trips with my parents and brother in the red canoe. My parents live across the street from ocean and every few feet there is a water access point. It is common for people to store their small boats and canoes at these water access points. We kept the canoe for years at one of those water access points, a few houses down and across the street from my parent’s home. Then one day ten years ago graduation weekend, the canoe went missing. We all assumed that some drunken teenagers took the canoe for a joy paddle. I mean who else would else think of moving a canoe that weighed a ton. I assumed the canoe ended up at the bottom of the ocean or broke apart and wash up on the shores up and down the inlet. But throughout the years my dad swore up and down he saw people paddling our canoe up and down the inlet. I never believed him, “It’s not our canoe its one that just looks like our old canoe” I would say. Ten years passed with the occasional sighting of the “red canoe”. This summer I was at my parent’s house for dinner, and out of the blue my dad says “The canoe is back”. “Bullshit” I reply. “There is no way that our canoe is back after ten years” I say. “I’ll show you after dinner” he says. We walk down to the water that one over from the original access point where we stored our canoe. And there under a tarp was our canoe, the same heavy red fiber glass canoe. “Are you going to bring it back to the house and reclaim it I ask”? “Naww” says my dad “Let’s leave it here, think of all the interesting adventures the canoe has had in the past ten years, we didn’t use it enough anyways. At least someone got some use out of it”. Now every few months I go back down to the water access point to see if the canoe is still there. Sometime it is, sometimes it not and I wonder what is the canoe up to these days.

 

Walking down the halls of the same cancer agency where my grandpa was a patient, I was suddenly overcome with emotions. I walked down the same halls over 15 years ago and they look exactly the same today. Back in 1998 when I walk these halls I was a young teenager visiting my grandpa who had cancer and was getting treatment at the agency. At that time I did not understand what palliative treatment meant. He was the most amazing man. He could talk to anyone, was a lifelong learner and had the biggest heart. He taught me how to stamp leather and whittle. We spent so much time in his shop as kids, if I close my eyes I remember smell of wood and oil from his shop. I miss him. Today when I walk down the same halls it's in a different capacity, I am now one of those who provides care. I'm only here for a month covering a maternity leave. It's different here than what I'm used to, a different pace, than the chaos of the major hospital I usually work at. You have time here to talk to people and get to know them. I've met nurses and physiotherapists who have been here for over 20 years and would have cared for my grandpa. I sit in rounds and I wonder about him and what was said so many years ago. It's almost funny that while a terrible trauma has absolutely no impact on me, walking down the halls of the same place where my grandpa was a patient me brings me to tears. While I'm here for this month I'm going to do what my grandpa would have done, talk to people, learn their stories, and share some laughs.

Back to School

Well it's been sometime since I've posted here. But Dyslexic Girl is back to school (while working full time)! Despite how hard school is for me I'm hooked, I love learning. So here is the story about how I decided to go back to school to peruse a Masters in Emergency and Disaster Planning at Royal Roads University:

I am currently working as a respiratory therapist (RT) at Vancouver General Hospital (VGH). I love my job, it's everything I could ask for. I care for patients by evaluating, treating, and maintaining cardiopulmonary function. I cover all areas of the hospital but particularly high-risk and critical care (Intensive Care, and Emergency) areas. While I enjoy all aspects of my job I thrive when I am working with the code blue team or the trauma team in the Emergency Department (ED). I have always worked well in stressful situations.

Last summer I was working in the ED and I got a call that a large motor vehicle accident what going to arrive in 15min. We only know that it was multiple vehicles and we would receive up to 10 patients and that at least four of them where critically ill. I had to jump to action. I called for other RTs working in different areas to come down as I would be unable to manage so many patients on my own. I started organizing for intubation and getting various bedsides ready. I was in charge of leading an organizing our group of RTs to ensure each patient coming in could be managed, I would also be in charge of prioritizing who receive our care if we became overwhelmed. We ended up receiving three very ill patients (a fourth passed away on route), they all required to be incubated an put on breathing machines, two required massive transfusion protocols, and they all needed to get life saving operations. At one point we ran out of blood to transfuse them with. It was the most chaotic hour of my life but it was organized chaos. We had teams and leaders for each team and we coordinated via the charge nurse who was overseeing the entire event. All three of them survived but we where stretched to our maximum. I started thinking about what if we had more critically ill patients, one more patient and we may not have been able to offer them the same level of care as the first three. What if there where many more?

That event started me looking into disaster and emergency planning. I read books on disaster planning and past disasters. I started talking to various managers about Code Orange planning and how our hospital would deal with a major event. I found out that most of the people who are in charge of code orange training were self taut and do not have formal training. I found the Royal Roads program via web search and it really clicked with me. There was an actual program for what I had become profoundly interested in. I want to enrol in this program because I want to know how best to prepare for emergencies and disasters. I want to learn about all aspects from pre-planning for emergencies and disasters, to how to manage an actual disaster. 

End Note: So here I am already five weeks in! I should be doing school work but procrastination comes along with school for me. So far I'm loving the program, it's incredibly interesting and engaging. I'll write more on the program later. What I have realized as I go along is having a learning disability does not make me any less capable. I am proud to say I am an excellent RT and an excellent student. I just have to adapt sometimes. Most of the time it's not even noticeable, I wish I could tell my younger self this. I turn 30 in 2 months and I cannot complain about life. I have an amazing job, an amazing boyfriend, an amazing dog, an amazing family, amazing friends and an amazing life. The one greatest thing my job has taught me is to love life... you don't know how much time you have, so do what you love and hug people you love. 

The Jouney so Far and the New Adventure Begins

Well I'm done school. It's been three crazy years of my life and I really cant believe  it's over. The overused Dickens quote "It was the best of times it was the worst of times", is very applicable.

I can't believe how much we learnt in three years. I went to a code last night as an RT. I felt so proud of myself when someone introduced me as the code RT. I mean shit I've only been working as a real RT for 2 weeks. It's pretty neat but I got orientated to the T12 ward 1st (they have patients on the wards, carry the code pager and attend codes). It was also the very 1st rotation I did in level two as a student. As a student I thought it was the best rotation ever, I had four codes in 3 days. I've come full circle back to T12 now as a staff, it's poetic really and I love T12 just as much. I'm a code junky, high energy, high adrenalin.

Level 2 presented different challenges than level 1. In level 2 you find your groove. You start to put the pieces together, develop a style, carry a patient load. You are no longer learning individual skills but how to put these skills together. You learn to stay calm when shit literally hits the fan. And like all the semesters and levels before you work your ass off. You start feeling like part of the RT team. Level 2 is more self directed learning. If you put yourself out there you get to see cool stuff. I've also learnt that my definition of cool is not everyone else's definition of cool. Oh yeah and I had my OR rotation, I intubated a bunch of people, no big deal. ;)

It was a good year to be a student. We all had multiple job offers for full time positions. I chose VGH because as it would be an easy transition from student to staff as I already knew the hospital. I also really like the staff. Ten of my classmates/friends got hired here with me, so we don't feel like the new staff at all. But let me tell you that first paycheque is amazing. It's been a while since I've seen cash flow and it feels good to have some coming in.

Like I've said before deciding to become an RT was the best choice I've ever made. I scarficed a lot and it was all worth it, because now I have a job that I'm absurdly passionate about and I know that will never change. Not everyone can say they love their job but I can. I am very excited to see what the next year brings as a new staff. I'm told you learn just as much if not more in your 1st year of work than you do as a student. I've always loved adventures.

New Years Resolution Vinyl Street Cafe Style

Years ago I was listening to CBC's Vinyl Street Cafe; and Stuart McLean was talking about New Years Resolutions and tomatoes. He commented on the fact people always make resolutions that for the most part they don't keep. My personal resolution that I enjoy failing at every year is: This year I will eat less sugar! Yeah right. I consume sugar like it's my life line. Removing sugar from my diet feels like I would be taking a part of who I am away (Ok, I know it's weird associating my person being with sugar but really I love the stuff in all forms). Anyways... Stuart McLean decided to make his resolution something he would enjoy keeping, so his resolution was to buy nice tomatoes. Ingenious I thought. I hate bad tomatoes why do I buy them anyways. So I borrowed his idea and made that my new years resolution. In the years since I have always bough nice tomatoes. I like the one's on the vine that almost always taste like summer.

I love tomatoes, to me they taste like summer!

For my Birthday this year my friend Natasha took me to the movie "Surviving progress". It's about over-consumption and progress. I felt it gave a sense of hope and I enjoyed how it made me think about social issues outside of health care. I have been so consumed with my job that I often don't take the time to examine other social problems. I started thinking about my own consumption and how I could do something small to move in a positive direction. I wanted to make it my new years resolution but having decided to make only fun resolutions I would keep I was unsure how to do this.

If I could dress like this everyday I would, and most days I wear a slightly toned down version of this outfit.

I decided to marry the two idea's together. I love clothes and shopping. I feel at one time I am a consumer and other that I just love to express myself through my often loud and colorful clothing. I sadly must admit, when I'm down I love the instant gratification of a new outfit. At the same time I believe I have my own style that does not reflect current trends and I have always been good with second hand clothing. And thus my new years resolution was born: "I will only buy second hand clothing for a year". Some people I realize already do this and without thought but for me this will be a challenge. Now there are two clauses I have included to help me stick to this resolution. 1) Undergarments do not count, call me what you may but there no way in hell I will buy second hand bras, panties or socks. 2) I can buy six new garments this year, call it a cop-out but I am unsure of my success if I do include this. So unlike my resolution of purchasing only "good tomatoes", this resolution severs a few purposes:  It is fun, it puts some constraints on my consumer behavior and it allows me to be still be expressive through the clothing I wear. Without turning into a fashion blog I will post pictures of my secondhand outfit journey here and there.