Circo

"no es mi circo, no son mis monos"

Not my circus, not my monkeys.

Fridays are going to be my solidly crazy busy days. With the day off before, and being in clinic that day, it will be a scheduled "pelt the coordinator" season. It's ok, it's kinda fun, really. So glad to be back in our little office cubicle later in the afternoon where it is quieter.  My life for the next six years. I know the time will whoooosh by.  

It's a good gig, and I am content. I don't take the grumpy people personally. I make mistakes, I fix my mistakes, I solve problems and move on and do the best job I can. I rattle cages, that is a big part of the job. Patient calls, no one has called them, no one has listened to them, they can't get through. I break up the clog, inform a bunch of people, get some texts and calls and emails oiling the machinery, and follow up. I live in a forest of sticky notes.

But I also am learning when to step back, when a patient is trying to work the system for their own addictions, manipulations and unreasonable demands. Like wanting their surgery on one particular day, and there is no surgeon to do the procedure that day. Or they are out of narcotics and want a refill, long after they should need one for their particular issue. "I know my congressman's phone number!" - Good, we all should, but I still can't kidnap a shoulder surgeon and make him do your surgery on that particular day. 

This is when I just need back up to tell them, no.  No, but here is another way through. No, but we do care, and want to help you get better, just not like that. 

As a scrub, I often heard surgeons make the not-entirely-a-joke instruction, "Give me what I need, not what I ask for!" This is in reference to them asking for an instrument, but they mis-speak, and the scrub probably knows this, but gives them what they asked for.  Learning to be semi-psychic is part of the job.  Pattern recognition, mostly.

People who have been through the military are often not the most stable of people from the most secure families. It leaves fracture lines. We were already a bit broken before we signed up, in all the ways that humans can be crazed* and that environment both stabilizes and creates new damage. Age shows the wreckage beneath the facade, as well as the determination and strength. 

*

When the old job threatened to blow up in my face, one of the most important determining factors in my decision to let go, was Dylan gazing at me and saying "If you don't have this job, your back might heal."

My back is feeling much, much better these days.

No, I can't do that job anymore, but here is another way forward.

Now, just got to get my Vitamin D up to measurable levels.

Radical

"What does it mean to be radical, to tell radical stories in our time, to win the battle of the story? The North American tradition seems to focus its activity on the exposé, the telling of the grim underside of what we know: the food is poison, the system is corrupt, the leaders are lying, the war is failing. There is a place for this, but you cannot base a revolution on the bad things the status quo forgot to mention. You need to tell the stories they are not telling, to learn to see where they are blind, to look at how the great changes of the world come from the shadows and the margins, not center stage, to see where we're winning and that we can win something that matters, if not everything all the time." 

- Rebecca Solnit

From the hospital 4th floor, I can look out on the mountains.  Rain fell on the valley for several days, and left the mountains covered in snow. At least the tops of the higher peaks. The drought is not over, but the potential for respite, is welcome. The skiers are happy. Us gardeners are as well. 

As I get the hang of the job, often in the clean up of the errors I made when I didn't understand it as clearly, I can feel my brain chugging away. It really is like a complex puzzle, and working through it requires an endless persistence. All while responding to new requests requiring attention and solution. 

I love it. 

I'm tired, and it's hard, but when I find a way through, it's a satisfying thrill.  And I really like my co-coordinator who is teaching me. We have a similar approach, and she is so patient about my learning process. She has a great sense of humor, too. The nurse who runs the clinics told me we seem to really work well together, after I'd mentioned how grateful I was to have such good people to work with. 

Sadness, too. Cancellations due to covid are common. But then pretty much all our patients are people with multiple issues. And it's not just that they were in the military, but the reasons that being in the military was a choice they made to start with.  I mean, I joined because I was lost and needed a way to get back into school.  That was due to the emotional disruption and poverty of my childhood, the army wasn't so bad. We may need a public service system that includes education as well as physical and emotional health for all young adults.  Let them rebuild their lives, find colleagues and family, work through their emotional issues, get proper healthcare, save some money rather than incur debt. Without the goal of maybe killing people. Instead, learn skills, become proficient in.... well, whatever. Farming, plumbing, building, coding, doctoring - all while making life better for themselves and others. Give them a boost up rather than bury them in a hole. 

Indigenous

 Went out to replace my trench tool, the single most used gardening tool I had. Some random dude stole in in the spring, when I could not replace it because I wasn't spending a dime I didn't need to.  Today I have a new one, and bulbs to plant. The spring garden was so sparse, still, and I wanted more color. Found these, and look forward to their blooming. 

Spending the day getting a few things done, but mostly letting my brain rest.  It's been raining all weekend, and the week ahead looks wonderfully wet and cold.  My northern soul is perking up.  The glow-in-the-dark skeleton is up on the porch. A pumpkin is on the table. Next year I may again try to grow pumpkins.  

Big story about my work and the change to the computer systems. I'd heard already of course, but how long it will take... I may retire before it happens. On the other hand, there is a lot of hiring going on, or at least in the laborious process. New positions, changes in protocols. And me trying to figure out what is old, what is new, and how to get it done, when my access is limited. 

I figure, make it six years, and I can retire in relative security. Assuming the world hasn't completely fallen to bits by then. 

Here's to Indigenous People's Day!

Or Columbo's Day (the tv detective played by Peter Falk)

AWOL

 An old friend, from the old job, stopped by on her way home.  Big hugs and a bit of gossip were entirely welcome. I've been head stuck down in the job, almost phobic about writing here or messaging anyone for the last few weeks. My brain is full.

Starting to see the whole scope of what my job will be, at least if I want to do it well. Which I do. It's like an enormous crossword-jigsaw puzzle with other people moving the board. Mostly I'm keeping up, largely because doing it right is what is important, and the sense of RUSH in the OR is largely absent.  Getting to use my knowledge base, and adding to it in lumps and chunks and tangled masses of fine detail. 

I will stop by and read all of your lovely stories soon, really I will. At the moment, I'm still struggling not to just fall asleep after dinner. Reminds me a lot of my first year in the OR, trying to cram everything into my brain so that I could already be good. 

Still, working with a lot of good people, and we are all fucking vaccinated. Unlike my former place of employment, according to P. 

This weekend, more this weekend. I have the Monday holiday off. I will rest and write.