Chadlecombodd Cornwall

This is the fourth year we have been on a family holiday and the third to North Cornwall at Easter. Always an event I look forward to greatly, I am very lucky that I enjoy the company of my in-laws and relish the time we are lucky to have together. It's something I'd like to introduce to the Kissodd's, but would suggest trialling a week-end before leaping to the full seven days. Maybe with children everyone becomes less selfish and easier to please, focused on the same goal?

With more lengthy time together it allows us to breakdown some of the boundaries with the children (soon to be three), as they get use to our presence and see the value of time together; even if that only is as canine protecter, ice cream provider, 20p ride dispenser and general bad influence. I think it is important to have a naughty Auntie & Uncle, more impish I suppose, he lets them get away with a little bit more.

I'm never sure if RB would chose to spend time with us without the need created by child care dependency and feeling obliged because of the generosity of R&S bringing us away. He's generally more reserved, and I worry that his holiday needs get a little lost in entertaining the children and satisfaction of the Chadlecombodd unit as a whole?

I make time to be a little selfish, aware that we travelled down straight out of a busy working week and when we return I'll be back on shifts the following day. My needs are pretty simplistic; an opportunity to stop, spend stress-free time with Liz, to read, eat & drink well and to be away from home for a bit. Neither of us escapes children, but when we close the front door at home, then we also close out children

Last year we rang the changes and headed North to the Lake District in June and whilst a good time was had it just wasn't quite as successful. The accommodation differed from the traditional family friendly hotel which provides each couple / family with their own space, a base and a level of anonymity to a three bed room holiday let apartment. A bit of a squash, sharing bathrooms, unable to escape the tantrums (if only occasional). We self-catered which placed greater onus on SC to cook and for all to tidy-up. It didn't feel as restful for any on reflection.

Location; the sea-side is so much more appropriate for us all. The Lakes is so picturesque, but it isn't as holiday'ish for some reason currently for us all?

So whilst no doubt significantly more expensive it provides a great deal more. NB is now at an age where she can involve herself in the kids clubs and activities, JB is a little more reserved, maybe next year he'll stride off with his confident pal, but currently he wishes to stay close.

It seems like it'll be a little while before all three can be packed off for the day and R&C can have a rest.

We wouldn't be able to have such a lovely time without the generosity of R&S, something neither a nurse & a teacher or a family with small children could aspire to, we raise our  glass to RC's spectacular work ethic and the successes of the Staffordshire pottery industry in the 1970's, 80's & 90's, without whom ... ... ...

Like a bag of sh*te

Blimey! I look haggard, pretty bruised & battered. I use to think the bags under my eyes would simply recede with a decent rest, a long sleep, but that possibility has long since faded. 

Perhaps it's the inevitable destiny of the nurse, you rarely meet any fresh faced health care providers beyond thirty years of age.

Maybe once I could have recovered; a regime of early nights combined with numerous skin treatments, creams and toners, but no longer. I use Bulldog face wash and  moisturiser; hound dog would perhaps be more appropriate?  

The thick rims of my glasses provide an element of camouflage but when I chose to go goggles free or remove them and stand in front of a mirror I see an old man, beyond that I see my Father.

Whilst I lounge and slouch I don't lie-in, I rest but I don't rest. I wake-up and I get-up; I can't scrunch up my eyes, roll over and drop off like so many others. I have often blamed this on my apparent bags and miss-stuffed cushion appearance, but perhaps it's just the way I am. A mixture of genetics, old age and life-fatigue?

After our break in Cornwall we return to Stone on Sunday, and I'm straight back into work on Monday morning. Day shift Monday, night on Tuesday and then off until the week-end when I'm in on two days shifts. Could do with shifting that Monday, but I think that is hugely unlikely so I'll just have to suck it up.

The Ghost that walks ... into coffee shops

Older gentleman; well dressed, often seen reading his Kindle or completing the crossword in coffee shops all over Staffordshire. It frequently appears that wherever we are, he is also!?!  We have thought he maybe an apparition, a ghost, an angel ... in truth the jury is still out.

I've previously grabbed a photo (not attached) just to confirm his existence and prove he's real not a shared hallucination. Next step a conversation.

Perhaps like myself once he's a house avoider?

Dirty Old Town

I thought Staffordshire's small market towns like Stone and Newcastle were fairly immune to urban decay, but wandering through Newcastle this morning I was surprised by the amount of key building and high profile properties that remained vacant. Many long empty shop fronts look virtually derelict.  

Even Stone has a fair percentage of vacant shops, two of the prime locations have recently been vacated, moving to new premises leaving their previous empty. Both are some of the first buildings that you'll see driving into Stone, they are important in terms of initial impressions of the town. I wish the owners or county council realised this and made some effort to make them presentable until someone can be found to take the lease.

I wonder what the town needs? Nothing swiftly comes to mind initially, irrespective of need they'll probably both become charity shops. Charity shops and coffee bars represent the only real area of growth on the high street

As I said earlier it'll take more than shops to rejuvenate a town or city.

Somethings remain consistent in Newcastle; the vile annoying group of witches (gender non-specific) that perch themselves in the bay window of Reubens who cackle & bitch. They're always there, present on each of my morning visits it appears.

I could happily waste hours in Reubens were it not for them. It's one of the few things that I retain of that part of my past (2000-2006'ish). Although I spend less & less time in Newcastle, for so many years it was a default destination just to get out of the house, escape Todd Terraces. In many ways I guess Stone has replaced it, but more tellingly I am happy to remain at home and no longer feel the need to escape. Apart from on Wednesdays obviously when all to often I run away to avoid the cleaner. It's odd with my rolling shift patten that I often find myself free on Wednesday, either in bed post-night or off-work. 

Reubens does remind me of Wadham Street in many ways, presentable on initial inspection but scruffy on further scrutiny. Despite this, or perhaps because, I remain very fond of the place.

Lost Keys

Number of calls received from work "Do you have the big red set of drug keys?"

NO!

Considering I left work over fifteen hours ago I am surprised no one called me last night. Detective Todd would deduce that this suggests they have been mislaid overnight? Truthfully they wouldn't have managed overnight without them.

I know I haven't got 'em; after each shift I empty my pockets into my locker before departing the hospital, so if I had retained them I'd of discovered them then. Even so I check the washing machine and laundry basket just in case. It would be mighty embarrassing after protesting so passionately to find they're in my position after all!

Rota Virus

Rota virus is rife on the ward, despite virulent hand washing and using protective barrier wear, catching it seems almost unavoidable. Many staff appear to have a greenish tinge, report dizziness, nausea, stomach cramps ... just not feeling right. 

Every twitch and gripe makes me think I'm going to combust. Not comfortable at all, waiting for the inevitable ... ... ...

 

Sons of Anarchy

In the same way January was all about 'Breaking Bad', March has been all about 'Sons of Anarchy'

 

HDRue

Once again I'm in HDU, so in many ways I'm HDRUE. If I reflect it is easy to feel that career wise I have actually achieved little over the last 19 years of nursing (my anniversary of both beginning nurse training and qualification falls in early April, ), after all that I may have done I find myself in a very similar place; a grass roots bog-standard nurse

And here I am stepping back into HDU, a place / time where I lay a lot of blame. For the partial breakdown of my mental health and the breakdown of my marriage. I still have wobbles with the former (and this in part why I thought I should write) and it all worked out for the best with the later clearly.

To  get these negative feelings & anxieties out and try to be more optimistic. ET has a sensible feeling that the more I utter negatives the more I'll believe them, so I'm making a concerted effort to be more positive (about myself at least)

Entering HDU I now have the support mechanism missing previously and no longer the responsibility for the units success beyond the day-to-day treatment of children.

Perhaps now returning it will allow me to excise some demons, although some things are oddly reminiscent of those times- LB unwell and awaiting admission to hospital, a lack of clear management direction, no medical lead and once again increased involvement in Alarm community. I am sure there are many more?

I've lost my fight for nursing; did I lose it when I was debanded, when I stepped-up to manage 12b, upon moving to 216 or sometime before? It is telling that one of my last serious previous blog entries in 2012 refers to being told I was joining the surgical ward team and the significant hurt that exposed.

 I certainly had more passion for orthopaedics than I appear to have for medicine, but the idea of moving over to 217 doesn't appeal even. 

I am forced to concede that I have become lazy and unmotivated, I want promotion and status but am simply not prepared to work for it. Before the hospital and my home life were deeply entwined, now I am contented to allow them to be very separate entertes in my life, to leave the hospital at the hospital.

Thankfully ET's career is on the rise and whilst not without stress it does appear she has much more to give than I. Should I be her support, the housewife in our relationship, to carry the weight where possible to allow her to make a difference? Surely I should, and whilst no doubt vital it doesn't always bring self-satisfaction or reward, and I can feel resentful. Another dragon to slay

Clean taste

Dear Alpen. 

Your new Lemon Drizzle with Yogurt light bars taste like Toilet Duck. 

Kind regards 

SY

Ward writing ...

The ward was in a state of bedlam when we arrived, it calmed eventually meaning there was a certain amount of thumb twiddling (boredom) going on come three a.m. It is rare that I have been able to say something like that during the past twelve months.

Even so I look toward the next night ahead, the reduced numbers and poor skill mix (mainly junior staff) and can’t help but be anxious. Staffing numbers are currently poor (we are very rarely flush), totally legitimate sickness and absence that occurs in every organisation regardless of size. Irrespective of reason it frequently leaves us high & dry, struggling to adequately provide the level of care we desire and maintain safety that is essential.

As we enter Spring things should start to calm down, but the weather remains poor (Staffordshire currently under a thick blanket of snow, high winds across the Midlands, flooding in Devon & Cornwall and severe weather warning in place all over the United Kingdom) and there appears no sign of let up.

The seasonal change in hospital activity long ago became something of the past.

Anyway I digress; the simple truth is that we don’t have adequate staff on the ward to provide safe and effective care.

Earlier this week we celebrated the first anniversary since moving to the new hospital site, time has certainly passed quickly.

I recall boxing up ward 12b anxious about what was to come; moving to a new site, joining a new team and the change in role that had been thrust upon me (it may very well detailed previously here). 

I would love to say it’s all worked out for the best but I don’t think that is actually truthful, there have been successes no doubt and whilst failures also wouldn’t be accurate there have certainly been struggles & challenges.

I think all staff were initially overwhelmed by the sheer size of the ward areas, fearful of how big it all seemed in comparison to previous locations and the amount of steps paced each shift. Now it seems like home and the many miles covered each day just routine and the physical fatigue experienced during those initial months has passed.

I must admit I didn’t ever think that would happen.

Decorations, banners and partly inflated balloons  still litter the ward, remnants of cake and celebratory food remain tempting those trying to be good and those with very poor willpower (especially nocturnally) I even found a box containing All Bran crispy cakes, which succeeded in tasting as awful as they sound.

Temptation is often at every corner, people are very generous and grateful when their children (grandchildren) are discharged home and the easiest form of thanks for many is a box of chocolates or biscuits. Consequently high calorie treats loom large, in the day I can avoid them, but in the night time it’s much harder.

When you’re on nights, you just want to eat rubbish, bulky carb heavy foods that fill  and provide comfort. Rarely would you ever hanker for a salad or a bowl of soup, more likely a sandwich, pasty and anti-slimming world cuisine. 

All in a nights work ...

So as the whole of Twitter discusses their plans for a wild & reckless week-end of booze related shenanigans. I begin nights again ...

I don't wish to moan ... but when has that ever stopped me. Another fun packed (shit packed) week-end ahead. 

Total Belief

" ... recently I've been thinking about taking pills again, so I can see more slowly the slow dusty detail, my most cringing whim becomes a beautiful grail"

"Total Belief"- Malcolm Middleton

Sometimes it appears that song lyrics can convey more than my written words ever could?

I'm concerned that I'm getting almost buried with anxiety and intrusive bad thoughts, so often of late that I feel utterly wretched. Obviously I proportion a significant of blame on my grotty shift patten (which has received significantly too much oxygen previously as it is), but it is under no doubt that they  certainly contribute significantly to my low moods.

I focus on what's good in my life, and pretty much everything  is. So the obvious question would be what isn't? The usual answer, work and me

Work has often created stresses, but never as much as during the last year. 

I feel I'm stuck on the treadmill, desperate for a break . Thankfully we do have a holiday approaching, but I feel I need more than seven days on the Cornish coast. Anyway that's not the sort of break exactly (although that will no doubt help) a break in life ... a change. To feel (professionally) successful; just to feel a sense of peace and place within the hospital would make a huge difference. But I can't see these changes taking place currently, not to me at least.

If work was right then I feel everything else would perhaps align itself, is that naive? Would I simply find another area of dissatisfaction, I think not. 

So I try to change these, of late there has been greater focus on changing me and less on changing work, possibly because it appears more likely currently that I can bring change in myself ... and less so within the NHS organisation.

Despite ongoing (self) improvement works, the three to four stone that I have managed to deploy, I struggle to shake off feelings of utter hopelessness, that I'm just not good. I address issues, lose weight but as the physical weight comes off the weight of loathing remains somehow.

I have frequently thought that everybody has a relative amount of self-loathing, but evidence (and time) has proved this isn't the case. Hence feeling that medication maybe a solution?

 

"You're got (unwanted) mail ..."

As is tradition once the ward calms I access my hospital emails; all to often depressing and 

hugely demoralising from the get-go. Evidence ultimately that the modern NHS appears to freely give criticism, but rarely give praise. 

Each email opens details criticism & complaint, not one informs of successes or of good jobs done (clearly we've not) To my mind 50% of the information received doesn’t even need to be sent, we seem to operate a 'forward just in case' policy?!?

These plentiful mails could be reduced simply through regular ward meetings, a readily accessible information folder and that old fashioned (but highly functional) notice board. So much is sent that it is impossible to sort the (rare) wheat from the (plentiful) chaff, so it’s pretty much all (mentally) discarded.

Perhaps I would do things differently and perhaps I remain bitter, but I am confident that generally I would be more selective in regard to the information I shared and certainly more positive.

I was demoralised enough returning to the ward on nights again, it takes minimal discouragement to knock every ounce of optimism out of me nowadays. Bang.

Wonderful, glorious vinyl ...

A Page of Punk (Japan) / Werewolves on Motorcycles (Stoke-on-Trent) Five label split 7" (-/100), brown vinyl.

Green sleeve (Yeah Records) 

Blue sleeve (Carnage Club Records) 

Pink sleeve (Pie'n'Mash Records)

Yellow sleeve (Drunken Sailor Records)

Red sleeve (Speedowax Records)

 Exceptional 17 track split punk single from Japan's A Page of Punk and Stoke-on-Trent's very own Werewolves on Motorcycles. 

Hear it here ... http://drunkensailorrecords.bandcamp.com/album/split-7-6

Struggles and challenges

Earlier this week we celebrated the first anniversary since moving to the new hospital site, time has certainly passed quickly. I recall boxing up ward 12b anxious about what was to come; moving to a new site, joining a new team and the change in role that had been thrust upon me (it may very well detailed previously here). 

I would love to say it’s all worked out for the best but I don’t think that is actually truthful, there have been successes no doubt and whilst failures also wouldn’t be accurate there have certainly been struggles & challenges.

I think all staff were initially overwhelmed by the sheer size of the ward areas, fearful of how big it all seemed in comparison to previous locations and the amount of steps paced each shift. Now it seems like home and the many miles covered each day just routine and the physical fatigue experienced during those initial months has passed.

I must admit I didn’t ever think that would happen.

Decorations, banners and partly inflated balloons  still litter the ward, remnants of cake and celebratory food remain tempting those trying to be good and those with very poor willpower (especially nocturnally) I even found a box containing All Bran crispy cakes, which succeeded in tasting as awful as they sound.

Temptation is often at every corner, people are very generous and grateful when their children (grandchildren) are discharged home and the easiest form of thanks for many is a box of chocolates or biscuits. Consequently high calorie treats loom large, in the day I can avoid them, but in the night time it’s much harder.

When you’re on nights, you just want to eat rubbish, bulky carb heavy foods that fill  and provide comfort. Rarely would you ever hanker for a salad or a bowl of soup, more likely a sandwich, pasty and anti-slimming world cuisine. 

Back on nights

I feel I am doing an increasing amount of nights, it's the turn around between nights & days that's doing me in and the numbers speak for themselves. So far during 2013 (since returning from my brief sojourn as the paediatric orthopaedic support nurse, sure to be mentioned in the future) I've worked thirty-three shifts; of those thirty-three nineteen have been nights. That's over 53% nocturnal working. The gold standard was to work five night shifts during every month, five out of thirteen. 

During that two month change the wards shift patten changed to just two shifts- 7am until 7.30pm and 7pm until 7.30am. There was a short trial of a further middle shift, the highly unpopular 11.30am until midnight, but that was sacrificed to allow greater staff cover on the core two shifts. Whilst no doubt the simplification of the shifts is a sensible more and that shorter day shift is a benefit, the new longer night is brutal (especially when it makes up over half of your allotted shifts!)

 Life stops when you're on nights; you go to bed, get up, shower, eat, go to work, come home, go to bed, get up ... it feels relentless. That extra two and a hour hours at work snatches all the time that was spent preparing for the shift. Now a run of nights almost requires militaristic planning to ensure they go smoothly, until of course you actually get to work of course! 

 ET is much better now with me being on nights, I'd say braver but that makes her sound vaguely pathetic, which she certainly isn't. She just doesn't like to be in the house alone by herself, which doesn't sound a particularly difficulty thing to understand to me? 

 All she has ever known me as is a nurse- a senior staff nurse on a busy acute admissions / short stay area, a deputy ward manager on an orthopaedic ward, then the acting manager (five difficult months) and now as canon fodder, a drone, storm trooper ... a bog standard nurse. So she often stays at her parents overnight, five miles away and closer to her school. It makes sense to me on almost every level; I never like driving away leaving her and I still find it difficult on occasion returning to an empty house in the morning. But on every other level it makes complete sense.

 I seem to struggle to sleep pre-first night shift, it was always a case of having a productive or at least active morning, then having a brief afternoon sleep before preparing for that nights shift. Now I just don't seem to be able to grab that essential pre-shift doze, so tend to get up and just sit about, fighting off guilt of being overtly sloathenly and neglecting essential chores. Which doesn't make me feel restful at all.

 This afternoon I could have (should have) just stayed in bed reading, perhaps then a further period of sleep would of occurred? But I was eager to write, my brain was desperate to get my thoughts down on cyber-paper. At least I'm being restful, whilst my body is certainly at rest my brain is going ten to the dozen.

Write / Don't write

I always seem to return to writing a blog (something more considerable) despite ongoing dalliances with social media, when I need to excise some demons, speak out or just express myself further I return to online writing.

Viewing my previous entries it saddens me that I have allowed it to become so neglected, but another view is that I allow it to lay fallow so that when I return things grow well. Just as a farmer would leave a field between planting crops to allow the land to become fertile and grow good produce. 

So unlike before I won't apologise for my ambivalence towards updating this place. I understand that I throw myself into things and then my interest often wains, I'm prolific on Facebook & Twitter, perhaps whilst maintaining a blog it'll allow me to be a little less so, more balanced and will be helpful?

I'm shocked to see it has been 436 days since my previous entry, those last few entries seem significantly more recent and recall them well. Sitting outside Costa in Stone watching the world go by and allowing my mind to wander.

So what's on my mind now?

Application

Of course it's very different writing on an iPad to writing on a laptop or pc, whilst the formulation and drafting is significantly easier the publication is harder, there's probably an app, but currently it will be a a more simplistic project.

Oddly I feel better already. I haven't been overtly negative or self pitying, just truthful. Good truthful.

Previously I use to carry a notepad & pencil at all times, scribbling down thoughts, concerns, anxieties, overheard conversations, funny occurrences and the like to transcribe later online.

Now I tend to wade through twitter & Facebook desperate for distraction, writing is certainly more creative and beneficial, but I do want to avoid being too inward looking. Consequently entries maybe infrequent, but hopefully the overall quality will improve?

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Meet the New Boss, same as the Old Boss*

A new Pope has been appointed; surely he's got to the better than the last one ... surely? 

(* "Won't Get Fooled Again"- The Who) 

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