Today did not go the way I had planned it. But it ended in a way I could have never planned and for that very ending, I would not change a thing about my day.
I was commenting to a friend yesterday that I am really enjoying my more regular hours...having time in the evening and having every weekend off. It has done a lot for my own mental health to have more predictable days.
But then along comes Monday. "Monday, Monday, Can't trust that day..."
I began shifting into work-mind as I took my shower and planned an outfit for the day. I said good-bye to the kids and drove to Stillwater to start my work day. The morning went well. I had an appointment and the client has made improvements, so that is alway gratifying. And then I got some paperwork started. Next thing I know it's lunch with a co-worker and then a meeting with my supervisor. From there things started to go off track.
Ordinarily, I work til 4:30 but today, Banana Boy had a doctor appt in Minneapolis and I had to leave at 2:30. I have a client who is on a blood thinner and his medication changes daily sometimes. I called the doctor's nurse and asked her to get back to me by 2pm so I would have time to see my client before leaving for my son's appt. She didn't get back to me until 2:30. And suddenly I have a dilemma..a client who needs his meds, a son who needs this appt because he needs medication too and not enough time to do it all. So, I decided that I would "wing it" and pick up B B and then swing by the client's home after B.B.'s appt. Sounds fairly reasonable.
BUT....
Banana Boy is at school in Brooklyn Park. It takes 40 minutes to get to the school. His doctor is in Minneapolis but that only took us 15 minutes to get to. We finish with the doctor a little after 5pm...then have to wait at the pharmacy for his new med and now we get back on the road at 5:30. What I did NOT factor into my plan was TRAFFIC. So, it took 45 minutes to get over to St. Paul and then it only took me 5 minutes to set up the client's meds and get back on the road...and back through St. Paul and Minneapolis to home in Brooklyn Park at 7:05.
I was feeling very frazzled and upset with the inefficiency of my day and IF things had gone the way I had it laid out in my mind, Banana Boy and I could have been at home by 6pm. Also adding to my FRAZZLED mind was the said traffic, bumper to bumper, side mirror to side mirror as far as I can see. Banana Boy has been chatting happily, playing with my cell phone and making changes (but that is another story for another time). Suddenly, B. B. says to me, "Mom, I sure do like our conversations, when it is just me and you. Don't you?"
So, Purpletulip, s-----l-----o------w down! Listen to this precious child who sees this aggrivating situation as a special time to bond with mom. As they say in the Visa commercials, "Priceless". And it made all the hectic, harried, stress and aggrivation all melt away and I began to listen carefully to what my son had to say and I realized that this conversation in the car was giving me a rare glimpse into the world of my son, who on top of being very bright and full of questions, has a special place in my heart because of his ADHD challenges. Life will not be easy for this boy. He has a voracious appetite for information and an amazing ability to sort through layers of complexity in every day life and then make it jive with his 8 year old brain. And this drizzly afternoon, racing across the Twin Cities and back was something that he took away as being very special.
Realistically, and because I am well aware of my own limitations, I would not want another crazy, inefficient, frustrating day like that again but if it meant that I somehow managed to touch a deep part of one of my children, I would gladly do it again.
Monday, April 30, 2007
Thursday, April 26, 2007
Wednesday
My Mom and I have this running joke that comes from watching Olympic gymnastics. When the athlete completes the routine and lands on the mat, they do this little footwork, with a flourishing wave and the announcer will say "...And they stuck the landing." Sometimes, that was the only stellar part of the performance. My Mom and my joke began when one of us would have a less than graceful moment and as we tried to regain our composure, we would say, "At least I stuck my landing."
On Wednesday, I was trying to find a building in downtown St. Paul for a monthly meeting. I began my downward spiral that ended with an "ungraceful performance". After I spent 10 minutes driving around the same 4 block radius, looking for 400 Sibley, which IS NOT, by the way, on the block between 3rd and 4th... I parked my car and began to wander aimlessly. I must have grabbed the attention of the hot dog vendor because she asked me what I was trying to find. Probably a slow day for the hot dog business. She suggested I head down toward 3rd. I walked all the way to Kellogg and knew it was not right. At this point, I figured I had two options, call my boss and cry for help or go home, hanging my head in shame, knowing I had been defeated by the city of St. Paul. At that point, I was fine with either option.
However, my boss called me back and I explained my problem and he offered to come down and meet me on the corner to show me where to go. I was close but not close enough. I saw him standing on the corner and began to cross the street. He started talking to me and next thing I know, I lost my footing, and fell down hard on my hands and knees...my right knee in particular.
Not only was my boss an eye witness, and he gave me a hand up, but there were many other people in the area who also so my performance. I did not stick the landing.
But I got a day off. And a visit to the workman's comp doc.Not to mention a HUGE bruise on my knee and a scraped palm. It will be fun watching it change colors over the next week.
On Wednesday, I was trying to find a building in downtown St. Paul for a monthly meeting. I began my downward spiral that ended with an "ungraceful performance". After I spent 10 minutes driving around the same 4 block radius, looking for 400 Sibley, which IS NOT, by the way, on the block between 3rd and 4th... I parked my car and began to wander aimlessly. I must have grabbed the attention of the hot dog vendor because she asked me what I was trying to find. Probably a slow day for the hot dog business. She suggested I head down toward 3rd. I walked all the way to Kellogg and knew it was not right. At this point, I figured I had two options, call my boss and cry for help or go home, hanging my head in shame, knowing I had been defeated by the city of St. Paul. At that point, I was fine with either option.
However, my boss called me back and I explained my problem and he offered to come down and meet me on the corner to show me where to go. I was close but not close enough. I saw him standing on the corner and began to cross the street. He started talking to me and next thing I know, I lost my footing, and fell down hard on my hands and knees...my right knee in particular.
Not only was my boss an eye witness, and he gave me a hand up, but there were many other people in the area who also so my performance. I did not stick the landing.
But I got a day off. And a visit to the workman's comp doc.Not to mention a HUGE bruise on my knee and a scraped palm. It will be fun watching it change colors over the next week.
Monday, April 23, 2007
Don't Blow My Cover
RN. That's me. I worked hard to be able to put that RN behind my name. And in my profession, it does give me certain degree of credibility and clout, if you will. People listen to what I have to say or ask me questions about medical issues, hoping I have the answers. I like that aspect of my job. I feel it is what I was called to do. God gave me a sharp mind and lead me through school and gave me what I needed to in order to put those credentials behind my name.
But when my youngest was sick this weekend and I feared it was strept throat, I had to decide whether or not to blow my cover and display my credentials.
I really did struggle with this. What was my motivation for telling the nurse or the doctor that I was a nurse? Did I want to foster comaraderie and medical professionalism, as we, the mom and medical professional along with the staff, determine the nature of the illness that was plaguing my son and thus decide on the best course of action for his treatmant? Or did I want to wipe away the smug look and the condescending attitude I sensed from the urgent care nurse?
I feared it was the latter. So, I bit my tongue.
The nurse asked about symptoms and I described them: sore throat, fever, no cough, lethargy and irritability. I think I sounded intelligent without sounding like a smarty-pants. But when she asked what his temp had been, I said, "Well, I didn't actually take a temp but I figured it was fairly high...around 102." (Insert the condescending look here. And I imagined the nurse was thinking, "Well, it probably is just a little above normal...and WHY didn't you take his temp?")
A mom knows. She knows her child has a temperature because his face is also extremely flushed, his eyes look glassy and he is miserable. This child also had a febrile seizure a year ago and I am not too inclined to let him spike a temp, so I give him Motrin early on. HA!!!
But I didn't say these things. I kept my cover. And I bit my tongue. But I still struggle with my attitude. Maybe it is pride because I do have these initials that follow my name when I am in my professional realm. In the real world, the line between profession and motherhood is a little blurred. I have knowledge from nursing school but I also have a lot of knowledge about my kids and have always had a good sense when they were sick and needed to go to the doctor. It's expensive to go for every sniffle and I don't go running in for every skinned knee or bumped head. I use my judgement and spend money wisely. However, on occasion, I would like to blow my cover and announce to all who can hear that I am:
But when my youngest was sick this weekend and I feared it was strept throat, I had to decide whether or not to blow my cover and display my credentials.
I really did struggle with this. What was my motivation for telling the nurse or the doctor that I was a nurse? Did I want to foster comaraderie and medical professionalism, as we, the mom and medical professional along with the staff, determine the nature of the illness that was plaguing my son and thus decide on the best course of action for his treatmant? Or did I want to wipe away the smug look and the condescending attitude I sensed from the urgent care nurse?
I feared it was the latter. So, I bit my tongue.
The nurse asked about symptoms and I described them: sore throat, fever, no cough, lethargy and irritability. I think I sounded intelligent without sounding like a smarty-pants. But when she asked what his temp had been, I said, "Well, I didn't actually take a temp but I figured it was fairly high...around 102." (Insert the condescending look here. And I imagined the nurse was thinking, "Well, it probably is just a little above normal...and WHY didn't you take his temp?")
A mom knows. She knows her child has a temperature because his face is also extremely flushed, his eyes look glassy and he is miserable. This child also had a febrile seizure a year ago and I am not too inclined to let him spike a temp, so I give him Motrin early on. HA!!!
But I didn't say these things. I kept my cover. And I bit my tongue. But I still struggle with my attitude. Maybe it is pride because I do have these initials that follow my name when I am in my professional realm. In the real world, the line between profession and motherhood is a little blurred. I have knowledge from nursing school but I also have a lot of knowledge about my kids and have always had a good sense when they were sick and needed to go to the doctor. It's expensive to go for every sniffle and I don't go running in for every skinned knee or bumped head. I use my judgement and spend money wisely. However, on occasion, I would like to blow my cover and announce to all who can hear that I am:
Mom, RN
Thursday, April 19, 2007
Persistance seems to be paying off...
...But don't tell my kids! I fear if they learn that things are working better this week than they have in a long time, then they will know my secret and shall devise new ways to thwart my progress.
Or maybe it is just the eye of the storm and soon, I will be back in the stormy seas. To that I say, "Enjoy the ride while it lasts!"
I prefer to think it is that I have been more persistant and as consistant in my expectations as I can be and now the kids are realizing that they cannot bend the rules without consequences.
A woman at church described it as teaching children that all throughout the Bible there are examples of "Blessings and Curses" and those are tied in to the behavior, attitudes and obedience of the Israelites. When the Israelites followed the laws God had laid down, they were blessed with victory in battle, prosperity and times of peace. But when they began to follow their own rules and neglected their service to the Lord, curses came about like war, loss of peace, property and even the loss of life.
I think that is something I am going to begin talking about with my children. Especially in light of the van window incident and the $240 they need to work off to pay for it. And while the Curse of this incident was the loss of "All things Fun for 1 week" and community service to mom, I want them to see that they can be blessings to others by fulfilling their community service obligation to me. Hence, they cleaned out my van and they cleaned Grandma's house. They also have an increased responsibilty for the daily nitty-gritty household maintenance. I can get a lot of leverage with this event.
I guess that I get some Blessings and Curses out of this too. I have to shell out the cash to the neighbor and sacrifice some of the extra's for the next several weeks. But I can use this time to teach my children some valuable lessons and get some long- neglected things done around the house. Hmmmmm.
Parenting is hard work. Classic understatement. It is probably the toughest job I have ever loved. And I continue to learn almost daily that my job here on earth raising these 4 children is a small reflection of what it may be like for God trying to teach His children, like me.
"How many times do I have to tell you not to do that?"
"When are you going to learn that I know the best way to do this?"
"If you do things the way I have shown you, you will save yourself a lot of time, trouble and agrivation."
"If I have said it once, I have said it a hundred times..."
But I wonder if God looks down on me when I am sleeping, brushes some hair off my face and says, "Child, you are difficult to teach but I love you so much that I will keep doing it for as long as it takes." And then He thinks, "Kids are so cute when they are sleeping."
Or maybe it is just the eye of the storm and soon, I will be back in the stormy seas. To that I say, "Enjoy the ride while it lasts!"
I prefer to think it is that I have been more persistant and as consistant in my expectations as I can be and now the kids are realizing that they cannot bend the rules without consequences.
A woman at church described it as teaching children that all throughout the Bible there are examples of "Blessings and Curses" and those are tied in to the behavior, attitudes and obedience of the Israelites. When the Israelites followed the laws God had laid down, they were blessed with victory in battle, prosperity and times of peace. But when they began to follow their own rules and neglected their service to the Lord, curses came about like war, loss of peace, property and even the loss of life.
I think that is something I am going to begin talking about with my children. Especially in light of the van window incident and the $240 they need to work off to pay for it. And while the Curse of this incident was the loss of "All things Fun for 1 week" and community service to mom, I want them to see that they can be blessings to others by fulfilling their community service obligation to me. Hence, they cleaned out my van and they cleaned Grandma's house. They also have an increased responsibilty for the daily nitty-gritty household maintenance. I can get a lot of leverage with this event.
I guess that I get some Blessings and Curses out of this too. I have to shell out the cash to the neighbor and sacrifice some of the extra's for the next several weeks. But I can use this time to teach my children some valuable lessons and get some long- neglected things done around the house. Hmmmmm.
Parenting is hard work. Classic understatement. It is probably the toughest job I have ever loved. And I continue to learn almost daily that my job here on earth raising these 4 children is a small reflection of what it may be like for God trying to teach His children, like me.
"How many times do I have to tell you not to do that?"
"When are you going to learn that I know the best way to do this?"
"If you do things the way I have shown you, you will save yourself a lot of time, trouble and agrivation."
"If I have said it once, I have said it a hundred times..."
But I wonder if God looks down on me when I am sleeping, brushes some hair off my face and says, "Child, you are difficult to teach but I love you so much that I will keep doing it for as long as it takes." And then He thinks, "Kids are so cute when they are sleeping."
Monday, April 9, 2007
Messes....followed by...More Messes (and Repeat)
Life is messy, so they say. Whoever first said that must have been referring to a life of raising boys. Boys seem to be born louder and more prone to mischeif. My perspective is perhaps a bit one sided being that I am the mom of only 1 girl and 3 boys who are all within 4 years of each other.
My daughter did get into her fair share of stuff but I think the difference is the quantity and the frequency. She may have colored on my lamp and my vacuum with a blue sharpie marker one morning but after being chewed out and having an appropriate consequence, she did not try anything like that for a long period of time and then never the same kind of mischeif. Granted, she drank her fair share of things she shouldn't have like dishsoap and Dimetap but never in the same day...not even in the same year. And she is messy or rather untidy. But even still, it's not the same as what I experienced this past weekend with my little, sweet-faced, blue-eyed blonde-haired cutie-patootie STINKERS.
Over the span of a 3 day weekend, my boys ages 5 3/4 and 4 1/3 years old created the following "Messes Extraordinaire":
1. a roll of trash bags down the hallway, sprinkled with a package of finely shredded cheese.
2. 18 partially opened/consumed cans of pop shook up and sprayed all over the bedroom floor...next to piles of shredded cheese.
3. 2 mattresses flipped off of beds and onto the floor to maximize the jumping.
4. Throwing rocks off a little landing, and thereby, breaking the window of a neighbors van, complete with an interview with a police officer. (Not to mention the cost of replacing the neighbors window)
5. Two separate instances of making "Bathrom Gin" consisting of mixing powdered juice into the sink, various cups, toothbrush holder and plasic containers; spilling all over the bathroom floor and counter. Did I mention TWICE...within 18 hours of each other???
6. Running a roll of toilet paper down the hall.
7. Running up and down the hall with red thread tied around stuffed animals.
8. Climging up into the cupboards and getting snack bags set aside for lunches for the rest of the week and eating all the snack bags of Cheeto's as well as 3 boxes of granola bars.
The list could go on. But quite frankly, the weekend with the exception of a few highly emotional moments, has become a bit of a blur...could be fatigue from the continual vacuuming, cleaning floors, counters, tubs and boys many, many times over.
Yup. Life with boys is messy.
My kids will have to endure the long-term consequences of this weekend of messes. They will have to do "Community Service" for mom in order to pay off the cost of the van window as well as being grounded for the week from "All things Fun". And I, on the other hand, will take my own lessons from this weekend and come up with some projects for the kids to do in order to pay off their debt as well as evaluate some of my own parenting practices and child expectations. I have been reading some things in a book called "What they should learn along the way" and from a website for working moms about the types of chores kids can do according to their age.
My parents are enjoying this moment of payback for all that my sisters and I put them through. I am positive I did not mix "bathtub gin" with Kool-aid nor break any windows. But I am also sure that I did give my parents plenty of headaches. So, they can enjoy this time of watching me parent and get a little payback for my childhood. Someday I will be a grandma and I will do the same. It's only fair.
My daughter did get into her fair share of stuff but I think the difference is the quantity and the frequency. She may have colored on my lamp and my vacuum with a blue sharpie marker one morning but after being chewed out and having an appropriate consequence, she did not try anything like that for a long period of time and then never the same kind of mischeif. Granted, she drank her fair share of things she shouldn't have like dishsoap and Dimetap but never in the same day...not even in the same year. And she is messy or rather untidy. But even still, it's not the same as what I experienced this past weekend with my little, sweet-faced, blue-eyed blonde-haired cutie-patootie STINKERS.
Over the span of a 3 day weekend, my boys ages 5 3/4 and 4 1/3 years old created the following "Messes Extraordinaire":
1. a roll of trash bags down the hallway, sprinkled with a package of finely shredded cheese.
2. 18 partially opened/consumed cans of pop shook up and sprayed all over the bedroom floor...next to piles of shredded cheese.
3. 2 mattresses flipped off of beds and onto the floor to maximize the jumping.
4. Throwing rocks off a little landing, and thereby, breaking the window of a neighbors van, complete with an interview with a police officer. (Not to mention the cost of replacing the neighbors window)
5. Two separate instances of making "Bathrom Gin" consisting of mixing powdered juice into the sink, various cups, toothbrush holder and plasic containers; spilling all over the bathroom floor and counter. Did I mention TWICE...within 18 hours of each other???
6. Running a roll of toilet paper down the hall.
7. Running up and down the hall with red thread tied around stuffed animals.
8. Climging up into the cupboards and getting snack bags set aside for lunches for the rest of the week and eating all the snack bags of Cheeto's as well as 3 boxes of granola bars.
The list could go on. But quite frankly, the weekend with the exception of a few highly emotional moments, has become a bit of a blur...could be fatigue from the continual vacuuming, cleaning floors, counters, tubs and boys many, many times over.
Yup. Life with boys is messy.
My kids will have to endure the long-term consequences of this weekend of messes. They will have to do "Community Service" for mom in order to pay off the cost of the van window as well as being grounded for the week from "All things Fun". And I, on the other hand, will take my own lessons from this weekend and come up with some projects for the kids to do in order to pay off their debt as well as evaluate some of my own parenting practices and child expectations. I have been reading some things in a book called "What they should learn along the way" and from a website for working moms about the types of chores kids can do according to their age.
My parents are enjoying this moment of payback for all that my sisters and I put them through. I am positive I did not mix "bathtub gin" with Kool-aid nor break any windows. But I am also sure that I did give my parents plenty of headaches. So, they can enjoy this time of watching me parent and get a little payback for my childhood. Someday I will be a grandma and I will do the same. It's only fair.
Tuesday, April 3, 2007
Dragging Feet
Why, I ask myself almost daily, do the words "I'm running late, can you please hurry?" inspire the exact opposite reaction in young children. Maybe I should try a little reverse psychology.
"Ok kids, this morning, I am not in a hurry. In fact, I don't even worry about getting to work. So, take your time. Feel free to dawdle, poke around and move like a turtle. I will just sit here on the chair and wait until you are all good and ready to go."
I wonder what would happen. Knowing my children for all of their natural lives, I doubt this will work.
The key is motivation. Maybe I should have a contest and the winner gets a donut with chocolate sprinkles if they are not only first out to the car but have completed all the required tasks of the morning:
"Ok kids, this morning, I am not in a hurry. In fact, I don't even worry about getting to work. So, take your time. Feel free to dawdle, poke around and move like a turtle. I will just sit here on the chair and wait until you are all good and ready to go."
I wonder what would happen. Knowing my children for all of their natural lives, I doubt this will work.
The key is motivation. Maybe I should have a contest and the winner gets a donut with chocolate sprinkles if they are not only first out to the car but have completed all the required tasks of the morning:
- Clean clothes on, including underwear. (It is an issue that does require much attention on a near daily basis)
- Teeth brushed, hair combed.
- Shoes on including SOCKS.
- Jackets on and zipped.
I could award extra points for putting dirty clothes in the laundry basket, wiping out the sink after spitting toothpaste in it and helping the little ones with shoes and socks.
Do I dare to dream such a fabulous dream?
Of course, if everything went smoothly every day I would not have anything interesting to write about. And without the rush out the door, I would not get the kick start of adrenaline I surely need in order to start yet another productive day.
My "Mommy Brag Moment" for the week: my youngest, Peanut, who is 4 has learned to dress himself. He surprised me one day when I set his clothes down on the couch next to him, fully planning to return and help Peanut don his daily digs, and when I returned, he was dressed. A few days later, he surprised me again by showing me that he can put on his jacket and zip it up. However, his 8 year old brother would like me to believe that he is completely incapable of dressing himself or that his arms and legs do not function before 8am.
I realized today that my daughter, Princess, is not a morning person. I tried to wake her up, and she raised her head, nodded that she was up but then flopped back down. I walked by and said, "I wonder if Miss Sunshine is awake." She immediately jerked her head up and said, "I do not like to be called that." Her preferred nickname is Princess or Sweetie. Ok. Not a morning girl. She gets that from me. When I was in college, my roommates quickly learned not to talk to me for the first 45 minutes of the morning. I would have said something similar to Princess. "I do not like to be called Miss Sunshine. "
The moment that makes my day however is Peanut coming out, dragging his blue cloud blankie, rubbing his sleepy eyes and saying "Good morning, Mommy." or the sweet little smile, full of dimples his 5 year old brother, Pumpkin-head Pie Face, gives me when I wake him up with playful tickles. (The nickname "Pumpkin-head Pie Face" is not my doing, that is his choice of nickname. It used to be Pumpkin...then he added "...head" and just before starting Kindergarten, he added "Pie Face". Ok. He's his own person.)
So, even though the mornings don't go smoothly and I am 10 minutes late every day, there are these little things that stick in my mind that make me smile and grateful that I have the opportunity to wake my children every day and witness the development of their personalities and preferences as they forge out their unique identities. It's a blessing and a privilege, and far more important than those 10 minutes of work I missed.
Monday, April 2, 2007
The Dangers of Saying "I need a Break"...
I have been at my new job for almost a month and I am settling in. My supervisor admired my cube today, noting how I am filling up my cabinets with assorted resource books, manuals and client files. I told her it looks like I have moved in. I am getting lost less and less. I have managed to find my way to the supply room several times without getting lost. I will admit I did have a few close calls but I have picked out a landmark, a large brass goose. And in the spirit of spring time, someone has playfully put those little marshmellow peeps in a line behind the goose, like fluffy chicks. (And today, the peeps were protesting, holding up little signs. Humor is a good thing).
At the other office, I have another nurse counterpart who covers basically, the southern half of the county. She started a few weeks before me and has been telling me she is feeling very overwhelmed and swamped with clients, poor communication and so forth. She is a very experienced nurse but this is still a new job for her as well with a large learning curve. I have felt bad for her because I am having the total opposite experience. To compare, she had to jump in from the dock and start swimming, or for her, feeling like she is drowning. I have been able to dip my toes in from the shore and slowly immerse myself at a comfortable pace.
Word to the wise, don't ask for a break. I am not sure that Jane actually asked for a break but it could have been an unspoken request. Last Friday, while crossing the street and taking a shortcut she had never taken, she slipped on the wet grass and into a ditch and broke her ankle. She will now be out of work for 6 weeks. OUCH.
Later that day, I did not know that this had happened, and a bunch of co-workers were gathering at a restaurant for lunch and to say farewell to someone who was leaving to chase his dream of a music career. A gal from the other office, looked at me and said, "We are going to call you a lot! Jane broke her ankle and can't work." Yikes! My coworkers from my office said to me, "You are not allowed to talk to anyone from that office. You are our nurse!"
It's nice to be wanted. But I know that my days of leisurely dipping my toes in the pool are over and I will be pitching in and taking on some of Jane's clients. It should make my life interesting and very very busy.
I feel bad that Jane got her break by actually breaking a bone. I am just going to take a day of vacation now and then and avoid going down slippery hills.
At the other office, I have another nurse counterpart who covers basically, the southern half of the county. She started a few weeks before me and has been telling me she is feeling very overwhelmed and swamped with clients, poor communication and so forth. She is a very experienced nurse but this is still a new job for her as well with a large learning curve. I have felt bad for her because I am having the total opposite experience. To compare, she had to jump in from the dock and start swimming, or for her, feeling like she is drowning. I have been able to dip my toes in from the shore and slowly immerse myself at a comfortable pace.
Word to the wise, don't ask for a break. I am not sure that Jane actually asked for a break but it could have been an unspoken request. Last Friday, while crossing the street and taking a shortcut she had never taken, she slipped on the wet grass and into a ditch and broke her ankle. She will now be out of work for 6 weeks. OUCH.
Later that day, I did not know that this had happened, and a bunch of co-workers were gathering at a restaurant for lunch and to say farewell to someone who was leaving to chase his dream of a music career. A gal from the other office, looked at me and said, "We are going to call you a lot! Jane broke her ankle and can't work." Yikes! My coworkers from my office said to me, "You are not allowed to talk to anyone from that office. You are our nurse!"
It's nice to be wanted. But I know that my days of leisurely dipping my toes in the pool are over and I will be pitching in and taking on some of Jane's clients. It should make my life interesting and very very busy.
I feel bad that Jane got her break by actually breaking a bone. I am just going to take a day of vacation now and then and avoid going down slippery hills.
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