I am still here

Things have been bad. I'm not going to sugar coat it. I've been dealing with some major SSRI withdrawals, at least that's what the doc thinks.

Basically, I feel like a pinball game of emotions, mostly rage. My fuse is short. Bruce Banner hulking out makes so much more sense to me now.

So, I've avoided blogging out of fear of venting things that I won't be able to take back...even if I were to go back and remove the post.

Someday I should be back to write again.

With locks and locks of love.

Back in the summer of 1999, I was at a wedding and had one of those moments in which I felt like a total ass-hat. One of my brother Mark's best friends was a groomsman along with my brother. Frankie was Frankie and on his motorcycle in his tuxedo with his goatee and crazy long hair. I'm not talking about his awesome hockey hair mullet of his youth. I can remember my eye-rolling thought of, "Really, Frankie? That hair?"

Later that evening, my sister told me that she had been talking to him. He told her that he was planning to donate some of those locks. In that instant, with that piece of information, I had that moment when "Don't judge a book by its cover" really hit home. It was an epiphany for me; a mirror being held up to show me myself and put me in my place.

And, that was when I decided to follow Frankie's lead. For almost 17 years now, I have gone through the cycles of growing and donating my hair 5 times.  As 2016 starts, I have decided I would make my 6th and final donation. With that, I decided to go big and not just chop off some hair. 

On June 2nd, 2006, Frankie Soltesz died in a horrifying and sudden way. For many people, the news story of his death was the only way they "knew" Frankie. Fortunately, I was witness to the real Frankie. He was truly the best friend a person could have and I'm grateful he was that for Mark.

Every donation I have ever made was done with Frankie on my mind and that lesson about not being so quick with judgment and criticism.

Thank you for your service

Today is Veteran's Day here in the U.S. I could have and probably should have written this post already. It shouldn't be taking a national holiday for me to actually do this. Trust me that I don't need a day in November to get me to think about service men and women and a day in May to remember those who died in service of this country.

When I say, "Thank you for your service" there is so much more behind it than those few words. It feels like a trite thing to say. It is meant to express gratitude but doesn't quite cover it.

So, here's all that is included in my "Thank you for your service."

Thank you giving up who you were to the person you would become; for giving up time with your family and loved ones. Thank you for giving up bedtime routines and the many "firsts" of a child's life. Thank you for your willingness to miss out on so many of the ordinary routines of life as well as the big moments. These sacrifices are beyond my ability to truly understand, but know that I realize they exist.

Thank you for surviving. You may have moments during which you wish maybe you hadn't. I understand the darkness even if I don't know yours. Thank you for your daily survival of the war you may be fighting within yourself.

I'm sorry that our expression of gratitude pales in comparison to what you have done.

Thank you for your service.

Just wait a minute

November 1st is probably as good a time as any for a retail themed post. I am this blog's resident retail expert, so this task falls to me.

The other day I overheard a woman who was annoyed about how long she had to wait in line. Five of the six registers were running.  The sixth probably would have been open, but, what people don't seem to understand, is that there probably wasn't a person to run that one. Many reasons can account for that; if everyone is pulled on to register, then no one is on the floor to help you (lady who would probably complain about not finding anyone on the floor); scheduling tools use the previous year's sales to determine the staffing for the current year, so if last year was dead and the current week hasn't been unusually busy, chances are the store wasn't planning on things being busy; and, maybe, just maybe, that register has experienced the blue screen of death.

Anyway, this whole thing just got me thinking, "What the fuck is wrong with waiting in line?" If you are so tightly scheduled, maybe running in for clothes isn't something to try to squeeze in...like those jeans... After all, Murphy makes the law and he gives no fucks. You're in a hurry to get that sweater? Well, according to statute 101c of the Law of Murphy, rushing to by a sweater is punishable by a full system crash and need for reboot. Decided to make a quick stop to grab a couple of your favorite tank tops? Not without paying the penalty of cranky-customer-holding-up-the-line-to-berate-16-year-old-cashier-who-obviously-makes-all-policies.  Like I said, Murphy has not one fuck to give.

So, here are some things you can do with your line time.

Quality Time
See that kid you brought with you? The one watching the world for cues on how to behave in a store? Interact with your kid. Teach him/her patience through your example. Have a conversation, even if you have a baby with you. Embrace the moment and connect with your tiny human.

Breathe
Pretty self explanatory, I believe.

Sort
Instead of getting to the register, having the cashier scan everything, and then deciding that you don't want something, do it in line. This doesn't mean that you dump the stuff you don't want some random place along the way through the line. Simply give the items you are opting out of to the cashier. Crazy, right? I mean, who would think of doing something like that? Yep, I'm a genius, a genius of manners and courteous behavior.

Prep
Here's something I learned from my parents. Use your line time to get things ready to be checked out easily. This can be something like taking clothes off of the hangers. Another is to get the tags out of whatever little places they got themselves tucked. I learned how to prep greeting cards for the cashier from watching my dad. Once he selected a card, he grabbed the envelope, slid the card upside under the flap so that the bar code was exposed for the cashier. I've even heard cashiers thank him. Such simple things.

Strike Up A Conversation
This makes me shudder, but some people don't mind striking up a conversation with strangers. I can't do it, I don't want it done to me, but others don't think that way. I'm just throwing this out there.

There's An App For That
Use your smartphone for good. Find an app that calms you. Not a Facebook or Twitter, but something to slow you down, to keep you from stressing out. There are coloring apps because of the new trend in adult coloring for calm and peace and zen and whatever. I find crossword puzzles to be a nice distraction.

If you do prefer to use a social media app, perhaps consider posting a selfie of yourself patiently waiting in line. #patienceisavirture #thisiswhatpatiencelookslike

So, just remember that lines happen and that's not a bad thing.

I will miss him is an understatement

Last Friday was one of those times when distance seems even further than it is. When knowing the time difference between CLE and DEN means the phone calls are not going to be about something good.

My Uncle Jimmy passed away. Even as I type it, I still can't believe it.

When I was in Cleveland last month, I went with my parents to see Uncle Jimmy. We were listening to John Blanche express his anger toward that lady in the state below Ohio who won't let Amanda & Eve or Adam & Steve get married. Uncle Jimmy made a comment to give my dad a hard time and then gave me a look with his eyebrows raised while nodding and tilting his head toward my dad. He gave me that look many times through the years. It was his way of telling me, "Hey, did you see what I did there? I'm messing with your dad and he hasn't even realized it." Jim "The Truck Driver" was the goofball sidekick to his serious, older brother, John "From Euclid."*

I will miss that goofball.

This post has been on my mind all week. I just haven't been able to find the words to explain the sense of loss. Uncle Jimmy (not Uncle Jim or Uncle James because that would sound weird coming out of my mouth) was fun and silly and sweet and a big teddy bear. He and his family lived near ours so he wasn't a virtual stranger to me.

He wasn't one of those relatives who leaves you uncomfortable with the idea of having to be hugged. I never had to be forced to hug him; my parents didn't have to prod me. Sitting on his lap as a child felt like home -- comfortable, safe, cozy, and warm. I was never, even at 40 years of age, annoyed when he called me, "Honey." It wasn't the same vibe as when some waitress in a diner whom I've never seen says it. It was Uncle Jimmy, it was okay.

I'm not sure how things will be when I return to CLE next week for his memorial service. I know things will never be the same. I know seeing my cousins who are now "orphans" in their 40s will be rough. The idea of seeing my dad breaks my heart. Uncle Jimmy was his younger brother, his only sibling. They were not only close in age, but they were close in each others hearts. I know my dad is feeling this more than he admitted to me on the phone. So, as tough as it will be, I know I have to be there, not only for my own mourning, but for his and for my cousins.

I wish I knew the words to really express what my Uncle Jimmy meant to me. Alas, I do not. So, here I will leave you with a picture which captures his essence for me:

* The descriptions for my dad and my uncle that were used on a radio show when they called-in to answer trivia questions. 

Deciding when it's enough

My step-daughter had to make a difficult decision last week. Her 8 year-old cat was dealing with renal failure. He seemed so young, but it isn't an uncommon thing for middle aged cats to develop kidney disease. We were giving him IV fluids at home and feeding him a renal care diet. His response to these things just wasn't what we had hoped. He was getting so thin and was a little more than 7 lbs. Conner struggled over what to do.

Looking at end of life choices sucks. Oswald would have moments of perking up and seeming like himself. That would make it seem like putting him down was not the right thing. Then, you would be close to him, smell the sickness oozing from him, and see and feel how skeletal he had become.

So, on Thursday, September 17th, in the morning, Conner took Oswald to the vet with Shawn and her Grandma. I was not there, but I got home just before they did. Conner and I sat outside and I let her say what she wanted to say, cry as much as she wanted. She praised the vet for how comforting and supportive she was toward Conner and Oswald during all of it. This made me grateful because I knew it helped Conner feel a little more at peace with her decision.

When it comes to these kinds of situations, it is so hard to know what to do. Are there enough good days for the pet to out weigh the bad? Is the pet suffering? Do we know for sure? Are we not ready to let go of our companion? Are we living in denial and thinking that things aren't bad enough yet?  Sometimes, I think it boils down to whose life are we trying to preserve?

As much as I miss the little bugger and I can see my buddy Jarvis wondering where the kitty went, I know Conner did the right thing. She knew ending his suffering was more important than her trying to hold on a little longer.

From my point of "The View"

Here's another post about recent events on "The View" to get lost in the world wide web's abyss. Yeah, I'm adding my -2&cent.

I watched the clip of the segment and as it started I thought it was being blown out of proportion in the "click bait" way the internet has created with trending topics. It seemed to me that Michelle Collins was simply (or maybe not so simply) saying that she didn't think reciting a self-written monologue was really that much of a talent when others were singing opera or playing instruments. Nursing wasn't under attack, in my point of view. Perhaps that would have been the end of it and nursing would become the focus if Miss Colorado, Kelley Johnson, wasn't wearing her scrubs while reciting the monologue, we'll never know. Then...

The conversation had all the cross-talk interrupting that I have come to know as the norm for these panel talk shows. At that point, nursing was starting to become part of it. "Nursing costume" and "doctor's stethoscope" were thrown out for all to hear in viral video clips across all of social media.

Since then, apologies were issued about the misconstrued statements. Michelle Collins expressed her mad love for nurses and how they deserve raises. This after some pretty negative tweets toward the nursing community that she since deleted. Deleted, I'm guessing, because the would conflict with the public apology being given to save the show.  Joy Behar's apology about her "doctor's stethoscope" comment was thrown into the mix. She played the "some of my best friends" card by naming the people she knows who use stethoscopes which are not the doctors only instruments. THEN, her back-pedaling went on to say she really had not been paying attention to the whole conversation that had been taking place. She simply saw a woman in scrubs and wearing a stethoscope on the screen and was wondering what that was about. Probably one of the worst things a talk show host could admit to, in my opinion. REALLY? You weren't paying attention to what was being TALKED about on the TALK show you host....especially that day when you were sitting in what has been known in the moderator seat at the table. That's really not helping your case and perhaps you should stop and gather your thoughts before TALKING.

As time has passed since the initial criticism of her "talent", I've thought more about what "talent" is. Maybe Miss Colorado wasn't reciting the most profound monologue ever. It may not have been as enthralling as a Ted Talk from Bren&eacute Brown, but I know that public speaking isn't in my wheelhouse. So, whether she talked about nursing or not, speaking on a stage without nothing but yourself present is pretty damn talented in my eyes.

Now, if people were thinking that she was presenting nursing as her talent, I'm on board with nursing being a talent. I don't know how many of the nurses I know do it. I have no poker face to keep me from completely breaking down in front of patients when they need me to be my strongest. The list of other skills and talents nurses need to get through the day is longer than I can even think of, I'm sure. Careers require talents. I mean, when asked about strengths in an interview or trying to sell yourself on paper in a r&eacutesum&eacute, most often, you are listing some kind of talent.

I'm not sure if Kelley Johnson can sing, dance, or play an instrument. Maybe she can or maybe she can't. Maybe she thought her message was stronger than if she would have done any of those things. If I were the type of person to be in pageants, I'm not sure what I would try to do for that portion of the competition. Would pulling out a couch, sitting at my laptop, watching reality TV while playing #hashtag games on Twitter work? Miss America isn't strictly a talent competition, you can find those kinds of things on FOX and NBC (trust me, I know TV). The winner of the pageant goes on tour, but not a concert tour, a tour based on the platform they wish to promote to improve the world. As a nurse who didn't win the final title, Miss Colorado is still going on to improve the world one patient, patient's family, and coworker at a time.

Finally, what "The View" hosts and many others seem to have missed in Kelley Johnson's monologue is how the message went beyond nursing. It was about not minimizing yourself with the use of "I'm just a..."