the RATS of moose

The Random Access ThoughtS of a mid-west, approaching-middle-age, nurse starting the next phase of life.

Saturday, June 28, 2008

Ten feet tall and bulletproof

Summer has arrived in all it's glory.... yesterday was 87 degrees and 90% humidity... except in my office, where it is either 87 degrees and 90% humidity or 55 degrees and 10% humidity. Yesterday was the later. So after 4 hours of freezing to death (there is something inherently wrong with running a space heater in June) I grabbed a magazine and a diet pepsi and wandered outside to soak up some warmth. I found a friendly, shady curb in the parking lot and plopped my butt down to read for a few minutes. About the time I got to thinking that I should go back in to log into a conference call (about billing -YAWN!!!), I had a wave (tsumani size) of nausea hit. And it hit hard.... cold, clammy sweat, pale skin, dizzy to the point of knowing I couldn't get up and walk, feeling like all the blueberries I had eaten that morning were going to show up to grace the ground I was staring at, and that wonderful feeling of ... crap, I didn't tell anyone where I was going and I don't have a phone with me to call for help and I can't move. Great! Now what? Oh, and by the way, you are going to be late for your conference call. Double crap. Wait a few more minutes. More waves of nausea. More of that TOTALLY icky sweat that goes along with it. (There is something wrong with an outdoor temp of 87 and that icy chill running down my back. That sweat should be warm, dammit!) Oh, look, there is stuff dripping off my nose onto the blacktop. Or is it out of my nose? Hard to tell. Okay, I feel better now (yeah, right) I will go back into the building. Okay stand up. Okay, quit swaying. Okay right foot, left foot, right foot, you are walking like a drunk, but that's okay, that's how I feel. I wonder what my blood sugar is? I ate breakfast at 6 am, and it's noon-thirty, but I have been munching blueberries (are they coming up?) all morning. And I drank milk with the coffee (is THAT coming back up??). And, oh, look, the handicapped ramp into the building... that's good, I don't think I can navigate stairs... up the ramp open the door. Open the door. Um, you have to lift your arm and place your hand on the handle... Yeah, yeah, I got it. Open the door. Done. Whadda ya mean, there's another door? Okay, open another door. Stand just inside the door and sway. where the hell is everyone? It's lunchtime. Isn't ANYONE going out for lunch today? Gotta sit down. Gotta make it to the bathroom. My blueberries are rioting. Can't walk. Okay, sit on that little side table thingie right inside the door. Watch the cold icky sweat drip off my nose again. Watch it get my glasses all yucky. Gotta make it down the hall. Oh, look someone is coming... and going... nice of you to stop and offer help, you moron. Okay, stand up again, head for bathroom. Made the bathroom. What belongs to the reflection in the mirror? Wow you look like shit. Um, yes, thank you, I feel like shit. Complete bathroom functions without revisiting the blueberries. Whew. Feel better (man, is that a relative term just now). Mop face off - well, at least when I am this pale, you can't see my rosacea. Um, pale probably isn't good. Well, that's okay. The color will return at some point in time. Okay, head back for office, grab some cold diet pepsi from fridge, make it to desk, dial phone for conference call, lay head down on desk to recover.

The rest of the afternoon I felt crappy-like someone had beat me up or wrung me out but good. Feeling persisted up to bedtime. Food didn't seem to help. Sugar didn't seem to help.

And then, at some point in time, while describing my nooner to my beloved boyfriend, he characterized my cool, clammy sweat as that of someone in heart failure. Yep, I said, just like





OH CRAP. Now what??? Heart failure? at 47??? No way!

Well, maybe.

What would I have done if I had been the triage nurse in the ED and someone with those exact symptoms had walked in? I would have put them in a wheelchair, pushed them to the back, flopped them in a bed, taken a pulse, hooked them to a monitor, started an IV, done an EKG, drawn labs, and given them an aspirin.

I wonder what my pulse was during that episode? I wonder if I even had one? Maybe a little atrial fibrillation (heart not pumping enough)? Maybe a little SVT (heart going to fast)? Or maybe it was just a little low sugar with a little too warm a temp and too much humidity. Who knows? Certainly not me. Why not?

Because, as it was pointed out by my beloved boyfriend, I still think of myself as invincible. Ten feet tall and bulletproof. Never in need of a doctor.

After yesterday, maybe not so much...


Friday, June 20, 2008

Lite is better...

I was listening to my favorite cooking show, Good Eats, one day when the host, Alton Brown, discussed soy sauce.

I'll have to admit, I don't think much about soy sauce. You get Chinese food, you get soy sauce. You cook Asian food, you use soy sauce. You have high blood pressure, you use soy sauce light.

Or do you?

Soy sauce is made from fermented soybeans. Look on the label of any Kikoman's and you see water, wheat, soybeans and salt. Look on the label of the 'lite' soy sauce I had in the 'frige and you see....

hydrolized soy protein

and corn syrup

?corn syrup? In soy sauce? YUCK!

and carmel coloring

and lactic acid...

I think I will stick with the natural stuff, salt be danged....

Summer time

Fifteen hours, thirteen minutes and 32 seconds.. the longest day of the year. The summer solstice.

You know what that means....

As of tomorrow....



Monday, June 02, 2008


She's soft.

She's furry.

She's antisocial.

That's my girl-cat!