Wednesday, March 31, 2010

The Quickness

In my race report from this past weekend, I referred to an "aha" moment with my running and said I would further elaborate. 

My undergraduate years in college touched a little bit on biomechanics, how force plates work, knowledge of the skill, execution and follow through.  Just like anything there are always two sides to an argument, biomechanics is no different.  Their watercooler banter topic is "do you have to do the skill at least 10,000 times or can you be gifted to be an expert?"

I fall somewhere in the middle, while being naturally gifted is almost a necessity at the international/world class level, there is something to be said for repetition and muscle memory.  Although, undoubtedly one of the best to ever ride a bicycle, I am certain Lance Armstrong did not just get on and start climbing hills.  He had to practice!

Anyway, my problem with short distance as stated before is no speed, no power, no "get up and go!"  In high school I broke the school record for steals (of course, someone else has now broken that record) in basketball.  Everybody said it was because I was quick.  The truth is, I don't think I was.  I could see the floor and read the offensive players.  I knew where the ball was going.  Girls were not as good back then and they projected their passes.  It made it much easier to steal the ball if you knew who it was going to.  Of course, in running a 5k or 5-miler knowing who is going to be where does me no good. 

Last week I went for a nice easy 10 miler.  I did 7.5 solo and then picked up "The Bails" for the last 2.5.  Now during these last 2.5 I realized when I run a "comfortable" pace my stride seems fairly short, but the harder I run the more I dig for ground and try to force myself forward.  I spend more time in the air and although my stride length increases, it does not compensate for the loss in regards to my stride frequency.  I decided to literally smash my feet into the ground, and try a few pick-ups. I focused on moving my feet quicker and It worked!  I wasn't out of breath and was running a sub-7:00/mile.  Maybe, I was on to something, so I did it again.  It felt awkward and although my breathing was labored, I wasn't dying!  I was dead set on trying my new strategy in the race on Saturday now.

I did just that in the race and although it did feel really unnatural to "force" my feet down and onto the ground, it did keep me from reaching and overstriding.  I am not sure how different it makes my running look, but it sure as hell feels weird.  Anyway, gave it another shot the other day running up a small incline and although the Garmin is not 100% reliable as it said I was able to get up to a 4:18/mile, I know for a fact I was moving the fastest I have ever moved in my life before.  The mailboxes and the pavement were going by me like I was on a bicycle!  I felt awesome, tingling all over.  It was like I was electrified with speed.  Then two seconds later, the quickness was gone and  I had to slow down and get some air :)

And totally off subject but if you want to see one of my new favorite and totally inspiring signs go here and leave your thoughts about DNFing too!

Sunday, March 28, 2010

Ride + Workout

Yesterday after the race and a long brunch, I knew I was full of good mojo, or maybe that was the bacon avocado burrito and hash browns.  Anyway, SBR requested that we support Ride + Workout's relay for life yesterday in Lakewood by donating $10 and sweating your arse off for an hour in one of their classes, so I headed up thinking I if my legs died I could just lower my intensity and "spin" with it for an hour.

I arrived at 1:30p on the dot and hoped they would let me sign up for their next class because I had not pre-registered on-line.  Ann, the owner stated they were just starting another class and I should just hop on right now!  She said to not even worry about the payment or paperwork until after.  She was more than accomodating and I was more than happy to oblige.  She was really great.  I ran back to the truck grabbed my gear and hopped on a spin bike.  I was sweating like crazy within minutes.  We spent a lot of time out of the saddle and I thought for certain my legs wouldn't last, that my hip flexors and quads would tighten up, but like I said I had good mojo going.  After that the instructor, had us doing sprints that were timed perfectly to some of my favorite genres of music.  The jumps sucked, because I suck at them, but they were great.  I kept thinking this is really gonna hurt tomorrow when I run 16, but I just kept on going.  I killed the the 20oz. water bottle I had with about 15 minutes left of the class, but wasn't too worried (again I had good mojo going).  Hell, I even managed to set the flywheel just right through the entire workout!!

Jill, our instructor that day by far provided me with one of the best workouts on a spin bike I have ever had.  The workout was timed perfectly to the music and the workout itself was set-up to target endurance, strength and speed without blowing the rider up in the first 15 minutes.  I am not saying I like indoor riding, because it will never compare to outside, but this lady provides hands down a workout I am willing to suffer through and maybe even enjoy...just a little.  The lady next to me asked if the workout had made me tired and if it was hard for me.  I had to laugh, of course it was!  Just because a person wears a uniform that says they are on a team doesn't mean they are A) Fast B) Have unlimited athletic ability or C) Any better than anybody else out there, of course, I guess it does make you look cool -- hahaha!

After, I donated my money and received a nice little coffe mug.  I told Ann I still needed to run 2+ miles yet that day and she said she had no problem with me leaving my gear at their studio while I went out for a run.  I ended with a little over 10 miles of running (including a 5k PR) and 1 hour of intense spinnning.  I really needed a shower, but I had no towel so I just used some of the extra clothes I had packed to dry off. 

Needless, to say I had a really great day of working out and wish Lakewood was on the eastside and that I didn't have class on Monday nights when SBR goes to Ride + Workout.  It really is a lot of fun.

Saturday, March 27, 2010

And The Wall Comes Tumbling Down - Jog Into Spring 5k

After, a completely crappy race at St. Malachi two weeks ago I knew what had to be done.  I had to get the negativity out of my legs, out of my stomach and out of my mind.  I couldn't excuse my performance due to stress, lack of sleep or the biggest mileage week ever in my life.  It was all crap. I expected better of myself!

JP from the SSSMT needed a 5k time trial for her coach and I told her if she was willing to suffer through one, so would I.  I managed 30 miles going into the race and wanted to run 10 today, so the plan was to run 5 miles - race - 2 miles, but I only managed 3.75 before the start.  I felt sluggish, but I had an "aha" moment yesterday on my 10 miler (deserving of its own post), that would hopefully save my ass from another crappy race. 

I removed my watch and my Garmin.  I haved never raced without a watch and I had had enough of this run by heart rate, run by time, do this do that crap that runners and triathletes obsess over!  It was time to break the bad habit and run Free!  Donning my racing flats and my new SBR kit,  I followed JP to the start.  She lined up really close to the front and I was immediately hesitant, but she told me I would be fine that getting caught up the first mile was not a good idea! 

The gun went off and JP jumped the line quickly and was off.  I was definitely slower, thinking "c'mon girl, get up there!!!!"  I picked it up but still think I got passed a lot more than I would have liked at the start.  The course takes a hard right and loops a ball field with a little incline that had some ice on it.  I slipped but didn't go down.  It brought back memories of Philly.  The temperature was even the same high 20's, low 30's, just like I like it.  I kept my stride in check, trying not to overextend and reach by practically stomping my feet down onto the pavement.  I heard the timer call 6:43 for the first mile.  I was already feeling the excitement.  I was breathing heavy, but my time was respectable and I still felt great.

The second mile had two inclines that I kept the effort even through.  I kept thinking, "you better be sub-14 at the two mile marker or you can pack your sh*t and move to sucksville after the race."  Made the corner and continued to remind myself "even effort, feet down."  Mile 2 the timer called 13: 3x.  "Sweet!!! Now don't blow this, you lazy motherf*cker!" I told myself.

We made a right turn and came down a nice little straightaway. Then we made a left turn for another straightaway and ran straight back toward the mile 1 marker.  A girl running right off my shoulder boxed me in.  I was headed right for the sign, so I gave her a tiny nudge to make room...twice, and she did.  I had just enough to make it around the sign...Whew!!  She didn't seem upset as it was just part of racing, so we moved on together.   I had definitely closed the gap on JP to within a few seconds. 

As we turned to loop the ball field,  run over the icy pavement and up the incline one more time, I surprisingly got a few more people that were pooping out.  I had told JP the corner was about .35 from the finish and to just gun it when she got there.  She must have because she widenend the gap just a tad.  I hit the corner, but it was like I was in neutral, the engine revs, but the car doesn't go.  I wasn't able to go -- Damn!  Ran down the little incline and picked up my foot speed and finally I was able to GO!  I held on and ran strong to the finish in 21:25. 

JP, although not near her PR, ended with 3rd place in our AG and a 21:21.  This was only her 2nd run this week and with that minimal training, she can still run THAT fast!  Oh, I envy her speed.  

I had yet to break the 7-minute barrier in a race and after the disaster known as St. Malachi, it didn't look promising.  Today, however, that wall came tumbling down and I got myself a lifetime PR.

Thursday, March 25, 2010

OB: 1

I feel like shouting it.  I entered nursing wanting to specialize in cardiovascular surgery, but was hoping something else would jump out at me and it has!

After a less than stellar rotation in pediatrics, I really doubted whether I was cut out to be a nurse, to "do what others will not do" as my first professor described the job.  I was struggling with the amount of information I had to jam into my head and the critical thinking type questions. 

After having a spinal fusion and returning from PACU, which is more important to assess for ..
Hypovolemia or Paralysis?

Most of us believe hypovolemia due to the severe nature of the surgery.  We assume once you leave PACU the anesthetic has worn off and although probably still on an opioid the patient can wiggle their toes upon request (even if they are paralyzed there isn't much we can do about it -- if the docs hit the spinal cord or nerve, we can't fix it).

I started my OB rotation three weeks ago, which I was kind of dreading.  I have no urge at this time to become pregnant, to lose control of my body for 38 weeks, gain a ton of weight and feel like crap.  I just am not the girly type.  I probably wore a skirt/dress less than 50 times in my entire life (no joke).  When I started to "develop" and my mom took me to get my first bra I was so angry with her and hoped they would not break the B category.  Unfortunately, I ended up at 34DD and have ponder a breast reduction since the day they arrived and then when part II took place I was so pissed when my dad came home from work he guessed without my evening telling him.  I thought the idea of menses was absolutely gross and a complete pain in my ass.  I know most girls feel special, that they are all grown up, but not this girl.  I was an athlete.  I didn't have time for boobs and periods.  I still feel that way now.  No time for either.  They just get in my way (sometimes literally). 

Fast forward to my first day on the floor at OB.  I was scheduled for a cesarean at 9:30 am.  I had never met the family and didn't even know how to get to triage and into surgery.  I had to put on a few extra items over my gloves as the procedure is "sterile," very different than clean technique requiring very conscious movements by all parties on what they can and cannot touch.  It is without a doubt very nerve racking for a student.  I also had a mask with a shield over my eyes, since I would be in the splash zone. 

I entered the surgical room with another student nurse and we bee-lined it, so we were standing at the inferior end of the patient where we could see the procedure.  We took great care not to touch or get any closer to the sterile field than we had to.  I was absolutely amazed at how many sponges, scissors and clamps were available (had to be over 50).  I realized how easy it was to lose a tool during a procedure, enter circulating nurse who keeps count before, during (after each of the 5 layers is stitched there is a count) and after. 

The attending and the resident started cutting through the first layer of skin and adipose.  They had this amazing tool that can cut or cauterize if needed.  Skin and hair are both part of the integumentary system, so if you have smelled burnt hair, that's pretty much what burnt skin smells like too.  After that they switched scalpels as skin is colonized/clean and all other layers must be sterile.  In other words, the doctor did not want to transfer any possible infectious agents from the skin into deeper tissues. 

It was in that moment I looked at my friend and noticed he was really sweating under his mask and a little pale.  I suggested he might want to sit for a moment.  He agreed and after only one step he stumbled into the wall.  My immediate reaction was "Why did you leave the patient to walk alone when you knew they were a fall risk?"  as I bolted over to him I caught him and braced him as against the wall so he would not hit the floor.  Immediately, TM's boot camp kicked in..."Brace patient, do not try to hold them up, slowly lower yourself and patient to floor, get help."  My instructor arrived at my side to help me lower him to the floor.  The doctors and other nurses were still continuing with the procedure, but were also trying to ascertain what had happened with us.  He was awake and definitely, a little shocked.  His eyes were wide and he was very rigid.  Although, he had just fainted for a second or two it had taken him by surprise and his sympathetic nervous system was in high gear.  My heart was in my throat.  I didn't really have any time to think things through.  I was just acting on instinct.  We got him to lay his head back.  I grabbed his hand and we reassured him that he was okay.  He seemed to relax after about a minute or two.  He was going to be just fine.  I took that time to join him in sitting on the surgical floor to give myself a "TIME OUT" and make sure I wasn't going to passout and recover from the excitement.  I had to laugh at how myself at how my heart rate had just sky rocketed.  Jokingly, I chided my friend for making me so worried.  My sense of humor was back.  I was fine.  Mind you, this all happened in less than 5 minutes.

Back up and on our feet, we were able to see the water, accidentally break and the nurses hurriedly suction it up.  We saw the doctor using a blunt object to forcibly open the layers and before we knew it we saw this object being pulled out.  I was wondering if it was part of the placenta, but nope.  It was the baby!  It was amazing.  It took only a second before we heard the cry.  I was grinning so hard my face hurt.  It was covered in vernix ( a lot more than I thought -- probably because it had not gone vaginally).  The baby was undoubtedly a purplish blue at first, but it turned into a very healthy rosy red/pink very rapidly. 

Our instructor brought the baby over to us and we began or APGAR assessment.  We gave the baby a 9/10 only becuase the feet and hands were a little acrocyanotic.  Activity, pulse, grimace and respiraitons were all good.  I was able to give the baby's eye ointment again trying to remember proper procedure.  When administering eye medications always go inner canthus to outer canthus.  My partner adminsitered the vitamin K shot.  We also assessed vital signs and capillary refill.  All was looking good except temperature.  All my life I have dealt with fahrenheit, but nursing school has quickly converted me to Celsius, so when the temperature came back at 36.9 and my teacher stated the thermometer must be in the wrong place because that was way too low, I wondered how high a baby's temperature should be, since 37 degrees was normal for adults.  Our instructor realized what me and my partner had done and that the temperature was actually just fine.  We then checked for appropriateness of parts (e.g. ten fingers, ten toes, no spots, or fur).  It was simply amazing.  I kept thinking when we entered this room, we had one less person than when we were leaving.  It was such a silly thought, but the entire experience was just ....  AMAZING. 

I hate that I never get any sleep the night before clinicals, but in the 2 days I have been on the floor I find I want to see and do so many things.  I can't find enough time to absorb all this fascinating knowledge, not to mention I have the best clinical instructor thus far. It is just so exciting and I can't see the process of ever having a baby as not a humbling experience.  I think I may have found my calling.

Sunday, March 14, 2010

'Til I Collapse

Let me just discuss the lead up to my race yesterday, so that when and if I choose to look back  on this in the years to come I can have my "that's right, I remember that" moment.

Some people run the short distances to project their longer distances times.  I on the other hand run my middle distance (15k+) to longer distance runs (marathon) to project my short distance times (5k, 5M, 10k).  I have been struggling with it for a long time, but I think I am ready to take the first step.  I think I am ready to admit my problem...


I feel like Michigan J. Frog often these days.  You know the frog that sings "hello my baby, hello my honey"  yada, yada on the Looney Tunes for one guy and then when he would attempt to show the producers of a show, Michigan J. would clam up and be silent. 

I have had by far some of the best runs of my life in the last few months.  Unfortunately, it is only on my Garmin and not at the races.  I can't afford to race because I am so strapped for time and for cash.  I mean, I suppose I could fork over the dough, but the idea of taking hours of time away from studying is so distracting. 

One of my classmates who has a psych degree, undoubtedly thinks I am suffering from a temporary case of OCD related to time with a little bit of general anxiety to top it all off.  Time, Time, Time!!!  It is never on my side.  I count the hours until I have to be somewhere, at what time I need to be up to get in "X" amount of study hours, run, shower and be on my way to class or clinicals.  I often lay down at night thinking "if I fall asleep right this minute I will allow myself 7 hours of sleep and then the hours tick by as I restlessly lay in bed thinking "I gotta sleep, I gotta sleep now!" and it doesn't happen for 4 more hours and then 3 hours later I am up and on the move until I can catch a nap for 2-4 more hours the next day and start all over again. 

Yes, I am THAT type A.  I blame my father.  He is very type A.  It wasn't one of the qualities I was hoping to get of his.  I really wanted his ability to swim (alas hosed again). 

It does have it's good side though.  It keeps me going no matter what, to the point it will make me collapse like in the Eminem song (which I love and listen to most times I run).  It makes me believe in determination, persistance, stubborness and most of all, perseverance.  I want to thank my dad and sometimes kick him in the ass for giving me this curse (errrrr, gift??). 

But anyway, the pep talk from my mom last week and a few more restless nights of sleep and hours of studying got me through my pediatrics final on Tuesday

with a "C." 

Although, it is quite shocking to me to see it on my grades, I am utterly relieved I passed.  That is how scared I was to fail. 

Between all that, my brain was short circuiting left and right (get it, left side and right side...yeah, dumb...nevermind) and I took these "relief" runs to try and absorb the information and relax or as TR likes to say stop "grippin'" 

I managed three weeks of build, which I have never done.  My body hates me after two and I usually take a recovery week, but this time I was determined.

Week 1, I hit 51.35 miles.  My long run was 20 miles at 8:18/mile and a speed work session of 8 x 400 meters at 6:35/mile.
Week 2, I eeked out another 51.33 miles with a long run of 16 miles at 7:52!  I wasn't being chased by a bear, so I thought the garmin must be fucked up, but I just got super lucky that day.
Week 3 (this week) I rolled through 26 miserably slow miles, which wouldn't have been so bad, if I hadn't felt like I was dying on those runs!  I was sucking air.  I was looking for a ride home half the time and I was thinking no one would know if I walked.  I had mentally and physically been beaten up pretty good by that point.  I was discussing not doing St. Malachi with my mom, until she said "You have the ability to run.  Your grandfather doesn't.  I will be proud of you no matter what you run."  Then she put this daily kick in the butt on my bed that said...

"I don't train to beat another runner.  We are out there together, competing with the marathon, and i train to run the marathon as fast as I can" - Juma Ikangaa

I was scared I would post a lame performance and I did.  I fell miserably flat on my face for what the running calculators said I could do.  I normally don't set my goals too high, because I don't believe I fit the calculators.  I believe they are for a normal athlete.  I am unique.  It takes twice as long for me to reach what others can do in half the time.  I take a lot of time to make the jump to the next level.  I am also streaky.  It's almost like black jack, hit or miss with me. But somehow, I thought maybe this time would be different.  I was wrong.

This all bothered me so much and I knew I still owed a long run for the week so I set out deep in thought today.  I covered the first 11 miles and kept going thinking "maybe I will run my fourth marathon today, unofficially that is."  Another 5 miles later I was still trucking, but definitely feeling the fatigue of the miles and the race yesterday in my legs.  I knew it would take me less than an hour and a half to run 10 more miles putting me at 3:45 for 26.2 today, but I wanted to be semi-smart and just go 30 minutes at a time and if I felt fatigued, I would just pull the plug.  No sense in hurting myself so I can't run!  What would I do then?  Kill baby chickens?  Push small children down that got off the bus?  Spit in people's food at work? 

Five miles later, I realized I was done berating myself for the race yesterday.  I was tired and I didn't want to run anymore and I pulled the plug at mile 21.  I had started out nice and easy hoping my already dead legs would carry me for a few miles today.  They had.  I ended my third week of build at 54 miles with 21 of those at 8:33/mile.  I looked back over my lifetime weekly mileage to discover, this was the most mileage I had ever run in a 3 week segment and 54 was the most mileage I had ever run in a week, not to mention the fastest. 

Oh how I despise the short stuff!!  5k, 5M, 10K BE GONE!!!!

Saturday, March 13, 2010

St. Malachi and Some Mediocrity

I have to do this quickly and get back to my pharmacology notes, so here is the ugly rundown of my first race of 2010.

I had just come off a great long run and an incredibly stressful week where I thought I might actually fail out.  My stomach was a mess all week and my runs were incredibly flat.  I was struggling to run paces I had done easily for months.  My confidence had been shaken about racing this weekend, but I thought maybe I would be able to get it back together by Saturday, barring any additional school work. 

I did the 2 mile with AR as a warm-up and realized the air was a lot stickier/warmer than I liked.  I seeded myself, or rather did not seed myself and when the bell rang I was trapped in a sea of people.  I couldn't get going.  I couldn't get out.  I couldn't relax.  I was full of "could nots."  As I tried to maneuver around people I kept thinking "I must have missed the first mile marker."  It was taking forever, but then there it was.  I saw my first split of 7:41 and my race was over. 

A huge wave of disappointment washed over me and I just about stopped dead in my tracks.  What had just happened?  I thought about slowing down and trying to just have a "nice training run," but that is just not my style.  I just kept fuming, running in a state of shock.  I hit the second mile in 7:06, but it didn't matter I knew there was no coming back on that first mile and the negativity just encompassed me. 

My mental state did not improve, especially knowing the hills were yet to come.  I rounded the corner and just started stomping up the hill like a pissed off 3 year old.  How did I come off that first mile so slow?  I meant to go out easy, but not that easy!!  I crested the hill and my anger errupted.  I spit on the ground as if it would rid me of this slowness and my attitude.  Mile 3 was a 7:29.

The tantrum had done nothing to help me.  It did however take too much effort and some good old wheezing ensued.  I have learned my breathing issues are somewhat related to my emotions and if I don't stay calm it definitely can trigger some rather annoying honking on my part.  It doesn't slow me down so much per se anymore as it just sounds so damn annoying and irritating.  Mile 4 7:28.

There was a girl in a maroon shirt that I had run with for a large part of the race and I felt terrible for making her listen to me, so near the first bridge I apologized for my wheezing/honking.  She was very polite and responded that it was completely ok.  I got over the last bridge and headed for the turn to the last hill.  I was done.  I hated what was to come.  My legs were so tight and I was running very flat on a hilly course -- not so good.  It took everything in that moment to NOT walk up to the finish.  I got mowed down by runner after runner from that point on.  I had a big thought flashing in my head the entire way up "out kicked, out kicked, out kicked again, out kicked again, out kicked again.....and finished YOU SUCK!!!"  Mile 5 was 7:40.  Total time was 37:26.

Utterly disappointed with my performance, or lack therof I just wanted to grab a beer and a shot and unwind with my friends, but I have this stupid pharmacology exam on Monday and I have to work and FuCk!!!  I have to go home. 

I think mostly it is just misplace anger and anxiety from school.  I really like the clinicals and the idea of nursing but as each semester goes by I am just flabbergasted at how awful the majority of the faculty are.  I dread every day I have to go to that place now.  I feel more often times than not I would learn just as much if I home schooled myself, since that is basically what I do anyway now, except for the endless hours I sit in a class room and have instructors read directly from the powerpoint and then test us only on critical thinking(makes no sense).  If I was not in the accelerated program I would transfer in a heartbeat and I would never, ever recommend this program.  Anyway done ranting, only 10 more months and I will be able to get away from that place forever.  Grad school will definitely not be there!

Thursday, March 4, 2010

Off My Chest

I entered the healthcare field because I loved the life sciences and was fascinated by the human body's physiology.  Helping people was initially, secondary, but as I did my first internship, my field experience and now my clinicals, it has become my main purpose.  I always viewed the healthcare field as "good and true."

Not so much anymore.

As I complete more and more clinicals, I see and hear things that should never occur.  Things that should be seen only on "Law and Order," but not in reality.  I feel it has no place in my life, or anyone elses, and it really upsets me!

I think about my brother, who has just had his first baby and all my friends having babies and the idea that this could happen to someone I know and care about is quite disturbing. 

As a nurse, I am taught to be a patient advocate, to promote patient education, to utilize therapeutic communication and not be judgemental in anyway no matter what the patient decides.  But here on my blog, I refuse to hold my tongue! 

I have encountered two mother's now, who had to have their newborns taken to the treatment room for blood draws, who refused because "they couldn't bear to hear their baby scream in pain."  Well screw them!!  They are the parent.  How do you think the child feels.  Their baby is alone and suffering without their mother in the room who could provide some sort of comfort and familiarity.  Get off your ass and go support your baby!!  As painful as it is for the mother to hear it, it IS worse for the baby. 

As much as a parent wants to trust a healthcare professioinal with the best care for their baby, they do not all do the right thing, ALL the right time.  It is your job as the parent to ALWAYS protect your child. 

I heard a very true and horrible story that happened in a hospital the other day.  It makes me so angry and tearful to think this can happen, but it can and don't think it can't be your baby.

A newborn came in with possible meningitis and was on prophylacitc antibiotics already, but needed a lumbar puncture to confirm.  The lumbar puncture would provide cerebral spinal fluid, which would be tested for the presence of the bacteria.  The first day they attemped seven times!!!  Seven times to get the sample unsuccessfully, before giving up for the day.  It gets worse.  The next day they decided to try again.  The father had gone home to shower after a day in the hospital with his baby and wife.  The wife was asleep.  Healthcare staff did not wake the mother to the treatment or tell the father to be back and be present for the test.  They just whisked the baby to the treatment room and started poking away.  Again and again they tried, but were unsuccessful.  Nurses protested and said enough was enough, but doctors kept trying.  The baby screamed and screamed until it passed out from pain, but they kept going.  There was no parent in the room to fight for the baby, to stop the unethical behavior.  Finally, after eight tries the doctors gave up. 

15!  15 Fucking Times these doctors poked a little baby!!!  And no one stopped them!!!!!!!!!!!!!

If there is anything to gain from my post it is this....

As much as you want to trust the healthcare professionals alone with your baby, you should always be a part of all your childs procedures, no matter how upset it makes you.  Ask questions, ask a lot of questions.  The baby can't speak for itself, so you must!!! 

Monday, March 1, 2010

Gwen Autumn

Well the week started off pretty lame with me bombing my test and the weather just sucking so much I wanted to scream!!

But then it all turned around.

I received a voicemail around 9:00am from my dad, that someone had just gone to the hospital.  I groaned wondering what my dad had possibly done to hurt himself this time!  He is always "injured."  The message ended with him stating someone's water had broken.  What?!  That made no sense.  Dad isn't pregnant nor does he have water to break.  Oh my God!  My niece was on her way!!  Holy Sh*t!!! 

I immediately hung up and called my brother.  He told me everybody was okay.  The contractions were continuing and getting worse, but nothing yet. 

I called into work to get my shift picked up, so I could go see my niece when she finally showed up.  I knew she would be coming soon because SH's water had broken and when that happens there is no turning back due to the risk for infeciton. 

I had been sitting and studying for hours, while my father had come home with my brother's evil rodents (Focker and Bella - a pug and a puggle).  I finally, decided enough was enough and I headed out for a run around 4:30pm.  Wouldn't you know it, after about an hour of running I returned home to see I had another voicemail. 

It was my brother!  My niece made it safe and sound at 4:51pm.  She was 7lbs. 7oz and 21.5 inches.  I jumped in the shower and cautiously, rushed up to the hospital in the blizzard-like weather we were having to see her. 

She was asleep when my brother brought her in.  She unfortunately looks a lot like my bother (joking!!).  She has his chin and his scowl, but she does have SH's nose.  I can only hope she will have my athletic abilities (hahaha).  I did my whole nursing assessment, checking her vitals, her fontanels, mucosa and some of her reflexes.  She even pased her meconium while I was there.  I never thought I would be so excited to know my niece had pooped herself.

As I drove home around midnight that night, I forgot all about the weather and my test.  I was in awe of my niece.  She is just so so neat and I can't wait to get to know her. 

How 'bout that for an uplifting ender to the week!!!