Cardboard Boat Races!

We ended up in Pohara for an extremely awesome community event- cardboard boat races. The boats can be made of only cardboard and tape, with of course the requisite decorations. There is a course of buoys that the participants must maneuver around in the ocean. Various prizes are given out including: Most Dramatic Sinking, Best Bribery or Flattery of the Judges, and Most Seaworthy. As you can guess, a boat made of cardboard tends to fall apart when it hits water. The costumes and boats were creative and fun. There was the Eiffel Tower with a crew of Frenchmen wearing berets and garlic-string necklaces. Later that day, we found garlic floating in the ocean along with bits of cardboard. The Titanic and an iceberg also made an appearance. Coincidentally, they ended up sinking each other. All in all, it was a tremendously fun event. Good on ya, Pohara!

Luxury

Today I realized that I haven't slept in a bed in over a month. I walked past a campervan (there are heaps of them here) with a bed in the back, and that lumpy uneven mattress looked luxurious. Along with leaving behind a bed, I haven't used a pillow, sheets, or a blanket in that time period. Instead, my time has been spent on either a sleeping pad or boulder mat with a camping pillow, silk liner, and sleeping bag. Jake had a lifelong dream fulfilled by sleeping on a boulder mat instead of a bed. Yes, those are the types of dreams that my man has, and oddly enough, I support it.

Wrong Answer

When you don't know the answer to a question, it is best to just admit that you don't know. Otherwise, you may get yourself in a situation that you wish you had avoided. I learned my lesson when I told the woman at the Department of Conservation (DOC) that yes, I am a hardy tramper. Tramping is the kiwi version of hiking, but it seems much more hardcore than hiking in the States. Back at home, I feel that I am a "hardy" hiker. But in New Zealand, things are different. Trail signs and guides don't tell you distances, they tell you times. "It's a 4 hour hike to the viewpoint." This is because the terrain is pretty varied. I should have paid more attention when the DOC lady started talking about how Arthur's Pass is the most undeveloped national park in New Zealand. How there are not always trails. How there are no bridges. How there are places where it is so steep that you will have to grab onto a fixed line and lower yourself. Somehow, I dismissed all of those things. Instead, I heard things about endemic birds and beautiful terrain. It sounded great. So off we went for a 3-day tramp in Arthur's Pass. The first day was a 5-6 hour tramp. After hitchhiking to the starting point, we ran into our first stream crossing. Jake convinced me that we should take off our boots and wade across so that we could have dry boots. The water was cold, but at least I had dry boots at the end the crossing. A few minutes later, we came to the next stream crossing, and then the next, and then more. Every time, we carefully removed our boots, held hands, crossed the river, dried off our feet, and put our boots back on our feet. At the end of the day, our feet and boots were dry. The trail went through beautiful forest with waterfalls and streams.That night, we made it to the Edwards Hut and slept in our $40 tent from Kmart for the first time. That was when we found out that sand flies can fit through the mesh. Sand flies are just like mosquitoes. They suck your blood and it itches. We spent plenty of time killing sand flies in our tent. The next day was our longest day, a 6-9 hour tramp. There wasn't much of a trail for quite a while. We hiked through uneven grass and marsh for a while, and inevitably ran into a million pokey plants. Every once in a while, one of us would shout "Ouch!" We hiked up past tree line and came to the rubble that used to be a mountain before an earthquake in the 1930's destroyed it. It was lots of boulder hopping.Then we came to the really steep section. We picked our route and started upwards. I chose a few songs to sing in my head to pass the minutes as I traipsed up the incline. Eventually, the terrain turned to scree and slippery ice grass. I got scared, but Jake didn't seem to mind. He kept plodding along while I worked myself into a panic. Finally, as I saw him disappearing from view, I screamed, "Jake, you can't leave me!" These words have now become infamous in our relationship. Jake stopped, gave me some words of encouragement, and then took out his camera. I then screamed, "I don't want you to take my picture!" These words are also now infamous. Jake patiently helped me up the steep slope, and we came to a beautiful tarn at the top. Then we descended down a stream bed, up some more hills, down some more, up some more, and down a lot more. It was a really long day. The kind of day that made me re-think my answer to the hearty-tramper question. When we made it to our camp, I remembered that it was actually Thanksgiving day. We ate noodles, vegetables, canned chicken, and a gravy sauce packet. Not a typical Thanksgiving feast, but I was too tired to care. Also, I had wet boots. Somewhere along the way, I fell in a stream and then stopped taking off my boots and avoiding streams. I happily just tramped right through them and afterward listened to the sloshing and squishing in my boots. Try it sometime. Fill your boots with water and then put them on. You may be surprised how much water that gortex can keep inside your boot. The last day of the tramp was nice and easy. It was only 3-4 hours walking downhill. Overall, I think it was a good first experience with New Zealand tramping, but now when someone asks me about my tramping abilities, I am a little wary of answering. I'm not so sure that I am "hardy" but I did survive the experience so maybe I am a little bit hardy.

Stream Bash #2


We went for another stream bash with our friend, Ed. We walked along a beach, played on sand dunes, and then hiked up a stream. The scenery was stunning, and Ed and Jake lived up to their boyish traits. We slung algae at one another, slid down a river rock slide, and the boys wrestled at every given chance. There was bouldering, cliff jumping, and tree climbing. As usual, I am covered in bruises and scrapes from slipping on the rocks and falling, but it's totally worth it!
There are amazing tree ferns, giant flax plants, and towering kauri trees in New Zealand. Notice the bare feet. Kiwis like to go barefoot.

Jake climbed up into this tree. Below him was a stinky, muddy swamp. He had a lot of incentive to not fall in.

Ed was hanging upside-down and trying to figure out how to flip over, only he couldn't tell which was to go. Apparently hanging upside-down really messes with your equilibrium.

Jake and Ed bouldered above the stream. The holds were pretty mossy and slippery so they ended up falling in.

Stream Bashing

On Christmas Eve, we went "stream bashing" with a group of Jake's mates from Auckland. It was definitely one of the cooler things that I have done here in New Zealand. We hiked up to the top of a waterfall and then abseiled (a.k.a. rappel) down next to the falls. Then we proceeded to hike down the stream where the falls ended. Maybe hiking isn't the right word. We swam, scrambled, and did some more abseiling. The rocks were slippery, and I only fell down four times during the trip. I consider a fall to be when my butt hits the ground, so it doesn't count all of the near misses, and there were a lot of those. The purple-green hue of bruises can be seen on various places on my hips, shins, knees, and elbows.

This photo is of me abseiling down a little canyon with a water pounding me. It was a strange feeling to slowly lower myself down with an insane force of water pummeling in the same downward direction. Jake and I have noticed that we are wearing the same clothes in almost all of our pictures. I swear, we have other clothes. We just seem to wear the same ones everyday...

“I saw that on tv. I didn’t think it was real.”

I am used to having a machine that dispenses drugs. You use a username and a fingerprint to get in and then you have access to a list of your patients’ medications. You just tell the machine which drugs you want, and a drawer opens up and an individual pocket with that specific medication opens up. In New Zealand, these machines only exist on television. A nurse actually told me that she had seen those machines on tv and hadn’t believed that they were real. Instead, the drug room has shelves with bottles of pills in alphabetical order. No fingerprints, no locks, no computer telling you which drug to give. I have had to come up with a new way of doing all of my checks before administering medications.

CODE BLUE

One of many differences that I have discovered in my nursing clinical is what to do in the event of a cardiac arrest. When a patient is not breathing and does not have a pulse, we call it a code blue in the US. There are several different color codes in the hospital that signify different things. Code red is a fire, code black is a bomb, etc. Here in New Zealand, they don’t use the color code system. If anything happens, you dial the hospital operator and tell them the problem and then they page whomever is needed. If a patient goes into cardiac arrest, you press the call button (each patient has a button that buzzes and a light turns on to tell the nurse that the patient needs assistance) three times and throw a pillow out the door. This can create a problem when a patient pushes the call button more than once when obviously she is not in cardiac arrest because it would be hard to push the button if you didn’t have a pulse because generally you are unconscious when this happens. Throwing a pillow into the hallway is also a rather antiquated method. In the US, there is a blue button in each room to push especially for a code blue situation that then pages the code team to the specific room. No confusion there. Blue button = code blue = code team come now.

MRSA

Welcome to the hospital. The first thing that you will need to is swab yourself for MRSA. MRSA is a resistant strain of staph bacteria that can be difficult to get rid of, so it makes sense that the hospital would want to screen people. I was prepared for a Q-tip up the nose since that is usually where we swab for screenings in the US, but it turns out that there are also other places that MRSA likes to hang out… the peri area (for any non-medical speaking people that basically means your crotch) and the natal cleft (butt crack). What an interesting way to be introduced to a new hospital. “Here is an exam room and some swabs. Don’t be embarrassed. Everyone has to do it.” I am just thankful that I didn’t have MRSA anywhere because I can’t imagine how embarrassing it would have been to have the charge nurse tell you that you have bacteria growing in your butt crack.

Earthquakes

The other night, I woke up to rumbling and shaking at 2:35 a.m. I laid in bed and thought, oh no, do I need to get out of bed? It slowed down and stopped pretty quickly, so I didn't actually get out of bed, but it was enough to keep me awake for a while that night. It was only a 4.3 aftershock, but that was enough to make me worry a bit.

People talk about the earthquakes frequently here. I find it in nursing notes in the patient charts. Things are dated as pre- or post-earthquake, as in cough started pre-earthquake. Conversations center around the damage and whether someone will have to demolish. People talk about the shaking. There is construction and rubble spread throughout the city. Some place were completely ruined while other were untouched. It's incredibly amazing that no one was killed. My nurse preceptor's husband works in construction, and she said that they have pretty strict building codes because of earthquakes, and it has saved lives. Many people are still worried about the quakes though. Patients at the hospital say that they can feel the aftershocks (probably because they are lying in bed) frequently. I never know if it actually a quake or if a truck is driving past.

Always on the wrong side…

I walk down the sidewalk and am perpetually doing that dance with the oncoming pedestrians; the dance where you shuffle the same directions back and forth trying to decide on which side you will pass each other. I nearly walk onto the escalator going wrong direction. I almost get run over by a bike because I look left before right when crossing the street. I peer into passing cars and discover an infant or, even worse, no one in the driver’s seat only to realize that I am actually looking at the passenger’s seat. They drive on the left side of the road here. They walk on the left side of the sidewalk. I am supposed to get on the left escalator. It’s funny how little things can be so ingrained into your actions without your conscious knowledge. I never realized that I look left before right when crossing the street. I love how being in a new place can show you the little habits that you are so unaware of. How life can be distorted in such subtle ways that make you stop and ponder why you do the things that you do.

I love how I can learn something new everyday, and not just when I am in school. Last weekend, I learned about paint and bikes.

It started with a bike. An adorable, tiny bike. Max's first pedal bike. The bike was originally hot pink and teal, and Max wanted a purple and orange bike. So I went about trying to paint it. The trouble started when I tried to disassemble the bike. A pile of tools and several YouTube videos later, I conceded that I would not be able to do it alone. Luckily, the nice man at the bike shop took the bike apart for me. Then I started spray painting. The next day, I woke up and went to put another coat of paint on the bike. Uh-oh. The paint started doing a weird crinkly thing. I asked my mom about it, and she informed me that it was because of the cold temperature. Apparently, you can't paint when it's cold. Oops. So then I had to wait for the paint to dry so that I could sand it off and then re-paint the bike. Since I had used most of the can of purple paint, I had to go buy a new one. After four different stores did not have the same purple paint, I finally settled on a different purple, which meant that I had to re-paint everything, not just the pieces that I had screwed up. Eventually the bike was the right colors and without crinkles. Then I had to re-assemble the darn thing. Jake and I tried for a long time to do it ourselves, but we couldn't get the pedals to move. We ended up taking the bike to Jake's roommate at a bike shop. I think that Carl was happy to put the bike together correctly for the sheer joy of riding it out of the shop afterward. Imagine a 6'3" guy on a bike with 12" wheels. Ridiculous. A woman asked, "Is that supposed to be a kid's bike, or is that a new trend?"

Paranoia
As my instructors calming explain the signs and symptoms of a disease, I silently freak out because I am convinced that I must have that very disease. It happens to me... a lot. This week, I am convinced that I have diabetes because I feel thirsty frequently. I have ovarian cancer because I feel bloated sometimes. I have pancreatitis because my stomach hurts sometimes. I have a brain tumor because I get migraines. I have hepatitis because one blood test showed that I had high serum bilirubin levels. Whatever we talk about in class, I can relate to myself. Unfortunately, we have been talking about pregnancy lately. I spent a large part of the last month wondering if I was pregnant. I did feel nauseous that one day. Luckily, it's easy to realize that you aren't pregnant. It's not so easy, on the other hand, to convince yourself that you don't have Gilbert's Syndrome. If I brought my doctor the list of what I think I could have, she would probably diagnose me with at least one thing... hypochondriasis.

Nursing School Thus Far

I am halfway done with nursing school, and I can’t wait until December (that’s when I graduate). Here is a quick recap of nursing school so far:

Summer 2009:
• Nurses care… a lot. There are many definitions for the word “care.” For example, I care about my grades too much and don’t spend enough time caring for myself.
• Anxiety can manifest itself in serious physiological ways. If you can avoid anxiety, do it.

Fall 2009:
• Psych- Neologism is when people make up their own words. Word salad is when people put together incoherent sentences that are impossible to understand. Paranoid schizophrenia. You can diagnose almost everyone in your life with some mental illness.
• Family/Community Nursing- Sometimes you try to do things to help, and it doesn’t work.
• Therapeutic Communication- Don’t ask why. Instead, say “tell me about that.” In fact, always say “tell me…” Anything else may not be therapeutic.

January 2010:
• Nursing school will teach you some skills, but on a mannequin and not a real person. Just because you may not get to put a catheter into a real person during school doesn’t mean that you should practice on your friends. When you get to finally try it out on a real patient, smile and say “Don’t worry. I am really good at this.”
That brings me to Spring 2010. During the first half of the semester, I finally began to feel like an actual nurse. I feel cool walking around with a stethoscope around my neck, but wearing a white jacket makes me feel like a poser-doctor.

Stop spamming my blog!!!!! ARRGGGHHHH!!! Why do I get spam comments on my blog. Make it stop!

I swear I have a life outside of nursing school.... well, on some days I do. I thought I would post a picture, and I think that this one is cute, so here it is:



We went rafting with some friends, and it was really fun. Cold, but fun.

Before I started nursing school, we went on a mini 4 day vacation. Here we are at the top of French's Dome with Mt. Hood in the background:

Today in class we were discussing urinary elimination and someone brought up sexual intercourse as a risk factor for a urinary tract infection. The patient we were discussing happened to be a 78 year old woman, and my professor made a priceless comment."Just because there is snow on the roof, doesn't mean that there isn't a fire in the furnace." I think it's good to remember sometimes that everyone is a sexual being. Even though we may want to pretend that some people just don't do that, they probably do. During CNA training, we were taught what to do if we found nursing home residents having sex. Give them privacy. I hope that someday when I am old, people will remember to give me privacy.

I started nursing school at the Linfield Good Samaritan School of Nursing on June 24, 2009. The adventure has begun. So far, it has entailed lots of reading and thinking about nursing. Right now, I don't really think like a nurse, but I am working on it. I hear nurses tell stories about saving (or not saving) people's lives, and I think to myself How did they know what to do? For example, my professor told us a story today about working in the emergency room. A kid came in with normal vital signs and she calmly redirected his mother, and as she wheeled him to a bed told another nurse to call a trauma code. Sure enough, the kid had a ruptured spleen and she saved his life. I keep hearing stories like this. Things seem somewhat normal to an ordinary observer, but the nurse knows that the patient's heart is about to stop beating. How do they do that??!!?!?!?! I guess it all comes with experience, and one day I will have that experience too. Just watch out, someday I may start calling 911 while we are having a normal conversation because I know you are about to need an ambulance. It's like Angela Landsbury and murder mysteries. I expect life as a nurse to be solving medical catastrophes all around me.

I have also been thinking about Malcolm Gladwell's book, Blink. Experts have subconcious, intuitive knowledge that they trust. They know that something is wrong before they can explain why. I think nurses are like that. By the way, I really recommend reading that book. It's very thought provoking and you may want to quote it at parties or something. At least, I do.

Molly Elliott took this wonderful picture of me on my first day of nursing skills lab. You can look at her pictures on http://www.flickr.com/photos/mollyelliott/

Yesterday, I was at the gym and I glanced up at a television showing CNN. The story was on North Korea, and an image of a famine-starved child flashed across the screen. It was the kind of image that hurts to look at. A child with bones protruding and big, sunken eyes. You could tell that the child could barely lift his head up from weakness. Breathing appeared laborious. I'll spare you and not post a similar picture here. When I saw this startling image, I immediately thought Oh my god, I need to go into pediatrics and save children. I know that working with children would be emotionally challenging because sometimes you can't save them, but right now, it's an idea that feels right. I think I will try to do my senior practicum in pediatrics to test out the waters. Hopefully, someday soon I'll be able to go somewhere in the world where children really need help. Just thinking about those children makes me tear up, and I imagine holding them and not wanting to let go. Maybe it's a bad thing to be so emotionally involved, but maybe it means that it is the right thing to do. To be passionate about making a difference.

This is Grandma Irene. She is 89 years old and bravely fighting breast cancer. Right now I am living with Grandma down in southern California, but that doesn't really explain the past few months about my life, so I will start with the beginning of the year.

In January, I finished getting my Certified Nursing Assistant, which is a certification that basically qualifies you to wipe butts in a nursing home. When I say it like that, it sounds sort of awful, but really it wasn't that bad. I thought that I would really hate working in a nursing home, but it actually brought out the caring side of my personality and confirmed by decision to become a nurse. After qualifying myself to clean up poop all day, I set out to get a job, and I got three. For anyone who is thinking of working three part-time jobs, I don't recommend it. I worked in an adult day care center, an assisted living facility, and a nursing home. On the optimistic side, I got to see how several types of facilities work. After working multiple jobs in Corvallis for a while, I found out that my grandma was going to have surgery so I quit all of my jobs. I flew down to California in mid-May before the surgery and have been taking care of Grandma since then. Well, she is a pretty independent lady so I help around the house, cook, and chauffeur. In the process, I get to learn interesting things about Grandma. For instance, I hear stories of traveling on a rickshaw in bad parts of Shanghai and nearly getting kidnapped until she was saved by a handsome serviceman or how her brother Tom was on a ship that sunk in the ocean and had to swim to shore. Grandma was childhood friends with Judy Garland and fell in love with my grandpa, a farm boy from Iowa, in Japan after WWII. There are many more romances and stories than I can begin to describe. I'm glad that I get to spend time here with Grandma before nursing school.

Nursing school starts on June 22!!!!!! After much deliberation, I chose to attend Linfield College and am really happy with my decision. In the next few weeks, I am going home and moving into my new apartment with Molly in SE Portland. I also plan on spending time with my nephews, playing at my parents' beach house, celebrating my birthday, and going climbing in Squamish with Jake. Then of courses, my life as a woman without a real career ends. It almost seems surreal: I am going to be a nurse. When I think of nurses, I think of real grown-ups. I tease Jake about being Peter Pan, but thinking about being a grown-up makes me feel like I am Peter Pan also. Honestly, I am truly excited about becoming a nurse and all of the amazing things that I can do in the world. Pretty soon, I will move up in the world from wiping butts to inserting catheters...

I know that I have been pretty awful about blogging, but yesterday I started writing in a journal again. Hopefully that will inspire me to start writing again. However, I am writing right now because I am screaming from the rooftops that I got into nursing school. Yes, I was accepted to OHSU's accelerated program. That's right. I will be a registered nurse in a year and a half!!!! I seriously am so excited right now that I might start crying.