rush, blood, head

my little buttercup
Originally uploaded by Sarah Lebo.

here is my house
my bed is my furniture.
my floor is my shelf! there are bags everywhere of unimportant things like party lights and votive candles (we had a party last week)
the picture does not accurately complement the real courtyard mileu. And you cant see the spiders or hornets from here.

I now live in an area that could be mapped out by Beck's "Que Onda". I am between the Vista Theater and Rudy's Barbershop; or, between El Gran Burrito and Tang's Donuts ("I saw a puppet at Tang's with a mullet and a popsicle"); or between Cap N' Cork ("Let's go to Cap N' Cork, I hear they have the new Yanni cassette") and Griffith Park ("Vamos al Griffith Park").
Viva Michael Bolton!

I have a mystery itchy patchy rash on periphery of my face. I feel like Eric Stoltz in M.A.S.K.

This week I was able to tolerate hard contacts for an evening out at the Smog Cutter (1/2 mile from my house) for Alex's birthday. It felt so wierd to have my face exposed to the elements sans glasses.

The topic of hierarchy within the hospital is taking up too much mind-time in my practice of late... I found myself at the bedside the other day admitting a patient, and the medical resident came over from the neighboring unit to do his assessment. I mentioned a strange rash I had noticed on the kid's chest, and this resident - though emanating the rich stink of being in a rush with his quick mannerisms and speedy speech - actually took the time to brush off my observation....he said "All it takes is one sharp fingernail to make all those scratches", and see, he said this after I had already passed along that this child has absent fingernails - no nailbeds. Of course, two minutes later, he has a revelation: This child doesnt have any nails, how interesting!.
The point here is not that I felt my assessment was being ignored because with some physicians that is just true. Nor was I just peeved by his brief patronization during what I had interpreted as an interdisciplinary bedside moment.
No, the point is, at work I keep noticing that I get wrapped up in *their* rush, and it physically makes me want to scream. Both at myself for speeding along beside them, and therefore enrobing myself in the manner of one subserviant, but also at them for their obvious disrespect.
You could say - and they would say - they are very busy, they have many patients to see. This is true, but my colleagues and I also have patients to see, medications to give, parents to talk to, teaching to do, discharges and admissions coming and going, dressings to change, other phone calls to make to other physicians, documentation to make, the bathroom to go to...and yet we RNs make an effort to accomodate that particular kind of stress related to time management on their end.

So now I will resist even more, and I say this to us all: I will not engage in passive aggression, but when I feel the rush coming up inside of me, I will halt and remind myself that it is not I who must meet them but us who must meet each other. If they don't slow down to listen, I will call them on it outside the patient's room.

I have to sleep in my furniture now. Tomorrow Coachella.

In some movies, Adam Sandler makes me cry.
Like Spanglish, which is not that good, but still.