Politics, Fear, Feet NOT Sandwich I just read an article that said Sadamm Hussein was all goosey-bumps about WMD because he didn't want Iran to know he didn't have any.
I kind of wondered about that. OF that.
Also, maybe he didn't want Kuwait to know he wasn't packin'. . . ? (I'm not giving you the link, cause I want to wait and see if the idea spreads).
Iran hates Iraq (remember the Ayatollah and the Shaw of Iran?). I think they fought over land, but also Iran got Born Again Muslim, while Saddam likes Stuff.
Saddam thought the war would last a few weeks- but it went on for years (I want to say 7?).
Kuwait covered Saddam (they too, Like Stuff- and are not so hard-core Islam). But THEN they called in the loan (which Sadam couldn't/wouldn't pay) so they started siphoning oil from under Iraq's border.
Sadamm turned around and invaded and then George H. W. stepped in with Gulf War I, cause Kuwait is our super-oil buddy, yadda, yadda, yadda (If I have any of this wrong, feel free to correct me, it is hard to know what to believe.)
Sadamm had real time border issues, and to me it makes sense that he'd be loath to make it public, super-world-wide knowledge that he had No Weapons Of Nothing.
I was thinking that- but it seemed not right to point out. It might still not be right. I don't know what's right. I don't have the time or energy or education, plus this is a blog.
Along the lines of being afraid to speak up, I had a patient the other evening who needed to have a feeding tube started. You put the tube in the nose and then the person gets x-rayed to make sure the tube is in the stomach & not in the lungs.
He'd been tubed and x-rayed and then re-tubed and re-xrayed a few times over. My instructor and Patient's real, official nurse were chewing it over "Advance it 15 cm more? That's crazy! . . . blah, blah, blah etc."
I was listening and learning and trying to remain open- but then I had a thought. Speaking this thought might have made them go "ooooh, you're so smart!" or it might have made them go "um . . . . no."
"You know, he had a partial gastroctomy in 1979- maybe his stomach is all . . . you know . . . weird?" (Real casual, and without eye contact).
I got instant and gratifying Props. Yay For Me. But next time could be eye rolls- I've about come to terms with that. Who the F knows? Who knows who knows? Why does it hurt so much to ask?
I suck at projects. Not for me, not for me, not for me. Good ole shift work, that's where I can excel. Make me do something right now and the next thing immediately after that- and then pile on about 4 more things that should have been done 15 minutes ago, so there's no time to over analyze or over plan or second-guess.
I presented a power point yesterday. Maybe it wasn't so bad. I will pretend it wasn't so bad.
We're doing "Professional Development" in school. We do things like this- " 20th Century Employability Skills"/ "Make Sure to Bathe". I suspect it is tied in to federal dollars, or maybe state- or maybe county. ("You got to tell people these things cause some folks just don't know!").
This thing was really just a peripheral type blip compared to the other stuff we're doing (maternity and diabetes, giving hard-core narcotics to real live people- AND flu shots to public school teachers next month! Woo Hoo! I can not get over the fact I'm being trusted with this stuff).
They throw a little something extra at us every semester- some project with a paper and a presentation- infinitely goofy and time consuming and not worth much, grade-wise. BUT they're group things and that adds up to face-saving type behavior. (face saving + project. aargh! keep the coffee coming baby, baby- I can do this! The sun's not up yet!)
The actual point of telling you this story is the story I found/stole off the computer lab printer. It was someone's rough draft of "How I got to nursing school and What are My Future Goals?"
"My mother had two daughters. She wanted that one of us should become a Nun and the other should become Nurse. To her that would mean we become good people. . . . She was not to see her wish, because she was killed in Rwanda, just before I escaped to America . . .. . . . . I'm not sure of my future goals as my husband has been deported."
In the version I saw she actually spelled "nun", "Noun"- that's how I knew it was a rough draft.
Sometime I will tell you "How I got to Nursing School and What Are My Future Goals". ( I was bored, I'd been a cocktail waitress, I half-assed worked in the IT industry. I like people. I want to make enough money to to take my kids to Myrtle Beach in the summers . . .)
For now I will tell you, I was walking with Awais the other day in the parking lot of a grocery store. I was feeling a little yucky/bad- for the most part because I'd just dropped by to see my sister who was reading a book about a serial killer and she handed me the book saying "read this page- this is Sick!" and I did and it was and like watching CNN will do to me, I fell into thinking the world is a bad, bad place.
So then we were walking and Awais punched me in the arm saying "punch buggy!- can't punch me back!" And I looked at the car we were passing, a bright yellow Volkswagen and inside the car, in the coffee holder was a vase of bright yellow daffodils.
This has become a tool in my bag, when trying to visualize a Good World. A vase of bright yellow flowers in a bright yellow car. Works for me.
The other day I was taking care of a patient who was very hard of hearing and besides that his level of consciousness (confusion) was coming and going. At one point he asked me whether he was standing or sitting (he was laying down). At another point, gesturing emphatically, he asked me to hand him his sandwich.
Yelling- at the top of my lungs, attempting to sound professional, but also kind, but most importantly . . . audible. I "reoriented" my patient.
"Mr. S!, THAT. IS. NOT. A. SANDWICH! NO! Mr. S.! NO! Mr. S! . . . THAT. IS . . . . YOUR. FEET!" . . . YOUR FEET! I SAID! . . . THAT IS YOUR FEET!" NOT A SANDWICH! . . . . YOUR FEET!"
In the past week this memory has had me giggling randomly, at inappropriate moments.
. . . in addition, Happy Nate's getting Married Tomorrow- Day!