Tuesday, June 09, 2015

Live free or die, Bitches!


New Hampshire, here I come...

Monday, June 08, 2015


working as a private duty nurse is trying my patience and getting on my last nerve. I have a patient whose mother is extremely particular in her son's care, which is fine and understandable, but she's also had a quarter of a century of practice and experience with her son and she just doesn't get that it can take time for a nurse, especially an inexperienced one, to master all the routines and details involved in caring for him. At least to her standards.

So it's truly great that she's scheduled a long-time caregiver to assist in my training, one who's known and nursed the patient since he came home from the hospital almost 25 years ago. Really, this lady has a wealth of experience and knowledge and I appreciate all she can teach me about my patient.

What I have no patience for is 8 hours of listening to New Age mumbo-jumbo, Eastern Mysticism, numerology, and astrology. Especially as it supposedly pertains to me. I don't want to hear which of my chakras are blocked, or how I can cleanse my energy. I don't want to know that 3 and 7 are my important numbers which indicate that I am an ethereal being. Or that because I am a Pisces I am "deep water" which meshes well with the patient's "hot water".

If I'm sweaty, it's because it's hot as balls in the room and I'm wrangling 180 pounds of dead weight, while wearing my dress-code ordered scrubs, not because I'm absorbing the patient's energy. I'm not a psychic vampire, ok? Nor am I an angel. And I don't buy that you can communicate telepathically with our patient. Or that he's communicated with you in dreams. If he's constipated, we know because he hasn't pooped in awhile and he's bloated, not because his "poop points" along his IT bands and on his trapezius muscles are tight. Dietary enzyme supplements don't cure cancer. Just because I'm a massage therapist doesn't mean I believe a bunch of poppycock. Where are the studies? Show me the evidence!

8 hours of being polite and professional have damn near broken me.

How do you tell someone you think they're full of shit without completely alienating them?

Saturday, May 30, 2015

Overheard in the spa...

"Dammit, April! Why didn't you tell me my bangs looked like Cthulhu coming to devour your soul?!"

"I thought that was the look you were going for!"


Note to self, look in the mirror after walking in the wind and before getting your client...

Monday, May 25, 2015


young life was fleeting
like a shooting star at night
bright, brief, and then gone

Sunday, May 17, 2015

It's Official

I know spring has officially arrived in New England when my female massage clients start shaving their legs again.

Wednesday, May 13, 2015


I guess if you wake up at 4:30 in the morning and struggle to fall back asleep for over half an hour before giving up, deciding to take a walk on the beach with your dogs is an acceptable alternative to insomnia. It certainly has its perks!

Sunday, May 10, 2015

I don't love my job.

Really, I don't. It's pretty much the antithesis of the kind of nursing I want to do.

But you know what? At least I HAVE a job in nursing! Many of my classmates are still struggling to find their first position.

And I'm learning a ton. And I'm getting paid (not very well, and I get no benefits, but still...making money as a NURSE!)

And I'm still looking and applying for hospital jobs all over the place. I'm now licensed in MA, NH, and TX. I have an important interview scheduled in a little over a week at a hospital in NH, we'll see how that goes.

Fingers crossed!

Seen on the drive home from work last night...

a motorcycle ahead of me with a Barbie doll on the bitch seat. A naked Barbie, with flowing blond tresses and her little plastic arms up in the air.

The vibration of the engine and the wind blowing her hair back combined to make it look like she was screaming WOO-HOO!!! at the top of her non-existent lungs.

Yeah, I did a double-take.

Thursday, April 02, 2015


It's been a looooooong time since I posted!

I've kinda been stuck in the Slough of Despond. It's hard finding a job as a brand-new RN with no experience. Luckily, I finally found a job! Granted, it's exactly the opposite of what I want to do with my shiny, new license, but SOMEBODY WANTS ME, W00T!

Yeah, pediatric home healthcare. Well, regardless: I will do my very best for my patients and their families. While still looking for that hospital gig I truly desire...

Wish me luck, I start next Wednesday!

Saturday, February 28, 2015

Be careful when choosing tattoo locations...

A lady I was chatting with who admitted to 79 years admired my tattoo, then told me about her daughter, saying,

"She got a tattoo on her boob, it was a kitten. Over the years it S..T..R..E..T..C..H..E..D, and she had it turned into a unicorn. It still doesn't look right."

It was hard not to laugh while simultaneously cringing at the mental image.

Monday, February 23, 2015

Vignettes from the Spa

Even though I blogged about Valentine's Day weekend and how crazy-busy I was, I got sidetracked recounting the horrendous drive home on Saturday night and completely spaced mentioning how Friday the Thirteenth kinda fucked me over! OH, NOES...we cannot have that! So I must share the stories with you!

I'm not superstitious at all (discounting my belief in Tip Karma), but I swear Ft13 was out to get me.
I dropped shit. I broke shit. I made messes everywhere.

For example, I was hustling to grab a bite to eat between clients (because of course we were slammed and I was starving), and while I attempted to snag a piece of apple out of the fridge, I knocked my coworker's tupperware container of yogurt and chia onto the floor. Where the lid popped off and half of the yogurt spilled. So not only did I waste half of her food, I was late getting my next client because I had to clean up the mess!

My massage gel bottle tipped over in the microwave where I was heating it up. Mess, late. Lather, rinse, repeat.

I was pulling paper towels out of the dispenser, and the cover ripped off the wall.

See what I'm getting at?

Then you add in the clients and you get a recipe for more shenanigans. One lady was menstruating and sprang a leak. Those sheets got tossed, we didn't bother dealing with them except to bag 'em and toss them in the trash. On a slow day we probably would have washed them separately with bleach, but with Valentine's Day weekend madness, the laundry was already piling up and we were hard pressed to keep up with the wash-dry-fold-restock cycle.

Finally, my last massage of the day was another couple's massage. 90-minute Deep Tissue on a big guy who was sore from all the snow removal he had been doing for work, pretty much working seven days a week for the past month or so. He and his lady were taking a much-needed break. I killed myself working on him for 90 minutes, and my colleague and I were waiting for the couple right outside the room with water when they emerged, blinking sleepily. I was slightly skeeved but hopeful when he lowered his voice confidingly and confessed to having "left something on the 'bed'" for us.


First of all, it's a FUCKING MASSAGE TABLE, not a bed. For the millionth time.

Second, leaving me cash on the rumpled sheets makes me feel like a whore.

Third and Last, leaving me only TEN DOLLARS for a kick-ass, 90-minute super-deep tissue massage makes me feel like a CHEAP whore.

Not a feeling I relish, believe me. Although, making my coworkers laugh uproariously when I explained my reasoning to them made it ALMOST worth it...

Have I mentioned how shitty the roads are? I mean, considering what Mass residents pay in taxes, you'd think the roads would be better maintained. Not so much.

One of the main routes I take during my commute is truly a nightmare. Frost heaves and GIGANTIC potholes make for an interesting drive. It's much worse of course when I'm driving home at night and the visibility is poor. Then I curse in counterpoint to the ker-THUNK of driving into a pothole I saw too late to dodge.

In other news, I have dubbed a new client "Tiny Dancer", because she truly is. She's so small and slight, the hot towel I put on her back is too big. A hand towel. Her back is so narrow, the edges of the towel brush the sheet on the table. And she's so petite (aka SHORT) that I have to fold the bottom of the towel over so it's not too long for her back. Unbelievable. Oh, and she is a dancer, so the nickname really fits. What's even more unbelievable is that I had to do such deep tissue on her that I swear I could hear her ribs creaking, and I think I bruised my ulna on her shoulder blades. Wicked high pain tolerance.

The variety and diversity (or are those the same?) of the human body never cease to amaze me. We all have basically the same parts, but we're all different, sometimes radically. That's one of the reasons massage will never bore me. The other reason is that massage provides blog fodder, so we all win!