Celebrating National Nursing Week

Nursing has been my passion for 20 years. I cannot imagine any other life or profession. Nurses are improving clinical care, leading advocacy work and advancing technological innovation in all practice settings. Every day, we offer solutions to the challenges facing health care in Canada. Celebrate with us. Take a closer look at what we do.

Did you know?

• National Nursing Week is celebrated around the world in conjunction with Florence Nightingale’s birthday May 12th. Florence Nightingale is considered the pioneer of modern nursing.
• Nurses are the largest group of health-care providers in Canada, representing more than one-third of the health-care workforce.
• There are more that 270,000 registered nurses (RNs) in Canada and of these more that 250,000 are working in Canada as nurses.
• The average age of RNs working in Canada is 45.
• The hospital sector annually employs nearly two-thirds (63.2%) of RNs.
• The number of nurses who graduated in Canada in 2006 is the same number as it was in 1986. However, the Canadian population has grown by 24.9% since that time, outpacing the number of graduating nurses.
  
  

Reflections on the Hands of a Nurse-- written by Mark Darby

Let us take a moment to remember our hands. For these are no ordinary hands. These are the hands of a nurse. These hands help us do our work. These hands carry out the skills that make nursing possible.

Let us remember our hands and be grateful for what they do. For the eyes may see, the mouth may speak, but it is the hands that hold, the hands that heal, the hands that give the caring touch.

These are the hands that feel the first breath of a newborn child; These are the hands that feel the last breath of a dying one.

These are the hands that hold a family, who has just lost a loved one; These are the hands that clap for joy at the healing of a disease. These are the hands that insert tubes that bring healing to the body.

These are the hands that touch a forehead and tell, within a degree, normal or febrile. These are the hands that feel a pulse and know fast or slow, weak or strong, effective or for naught.

These are the hands that restrain the angry from self-harm. These are the hands that compress the sternum to bring life.

These are the hands that clean unspeakable places on another person's body but do so with dignity and respect which allow that person to feel like a human being.

These are also the hands of different people not just black or white, brown or yellow but all. These are not the hands of male or female but both.

Other hands may build buildings or write books. Some hands may even pull the trigger or plunge the knife but these are the hands of life.

These are the hands that take up the task passed down from so long ago—to bring healing to the sick, comfort to the afflicted, hope to the hopeless.

But these are not the hands of timid maidens who look for direction outside themselves. These are also the hands that can be clenched because sometimes something has to change. These are the hands of a nurse. These are the hands that have the privilege of being at the bedside.

For these are the hands of a nurse, the hands of a person that does a job that not everyone can do.
These are the hands of a nurse, the hands of strength compassion and love.
These are my hands.

I am kicking off Nursing Week in my shop by saying “Happy Birthday Flo”. I hope we make you proud.
http://www.solarnavigator.net/history/florence_nightingale.htm


Happy Nursing Week!

The Year You Were Born

“The moment a child is born, the mother is also born. She never existed before. The woman existed, but the mother, never. A mother is something absolutely new.” ~Rajneesh

I am celebrating my fourteenth Mother’s Day this weekend. I was discharged from hospital on Mother’s Day 1994 with a baby daughter, a set of sore tatas and a throbbing suture line you know where. While I wondered that day what I had gotten myself into, the following 14 years have proven to be the happiest years of my life.

As I reflect back on 1994, I thought I’d throw some of the events that intrigued, enraged, amused and inspired me into Dumbledore’s pensieve to share with my daughter Hilary.

1994-What was happening in the world the year you were born:

· The North American Free Trade Agreement (NAFTA) went into effect.
· Jean Crouton as we call him was Prime Minister of Canada.
· Bob Rae was Premier of Ontario.
· The 1994 Winter Olympics were held in Lillehammer.
· Figure skater Nancy Kerrigan was clubbed on the right leg by an assailant under orders from figure skating rival Tonya Harding's ex-husband. Tonya Harding was banned from the sport and Nancy Kerrigan went on to win a silver medal at the 94 Winter Olympics.
· Lorena Bobbitt was found not guilty by reason of insanity on charges of bopping off her husband, John Wayne’s bobbitt. They actually retrieved his bobbitt, secured it in the zip lock bag and sewed it back on.
· The Church of England ordained its first female priests.
· Rwandan President Juvénal Habyarimana and Burundi President Cyprien Ntaryamira died when a missile shot down their jet near Kigali, Rwanda. The Rwandan Genocide began shortly after in Kigali. Don’t let history repeat itself.
· Kurt Cobain, lead singer of Nirvana, was found dead. It is believed to be suicide.
· Former United States President Richard Nixon died.
· Jacqueline Lee Bouvier Kennedy Onassis died.

· South Africa held its first fully multiracial elections. Nelson Mandela was inaugurated as South Africa's first Black president. Learn about and from Nelson Mandela. You will be a better person for it.
· Nicole Brown Simpson and Ronald Goldman were murdered. NFL star O.J. Simpson and his friend flee from police in his white Ford Bronco. The famous low speed chase unfolded live on television and ended at Simpson’s house where he then surrendered to police. The Bronco chase was recreated in Shrek 2.
· Israel and Jordan signed the Israel-Jordan Treaty of Peace, which formally ended the state of war that existed between the nations since 1948.
· The Irish Republican Army (IRA) announced a "complete cessation of military operations."
· The sitcom Friends premiered on NBC. Thursday nights were booked for years to come.
· The web browser Netscape Navigator 1.0 was released.
· Boris Yeltsin ordered troops into Chechnya. Another lesson from history to never repeat.
· The Nobel Peace prize went to Yasser Arafat, Shimon Peres, and, Yitzhak Rabin. I have never been able reconcile in my mind why Yasser Arafat got a Nobel Peace prize.
· Hilary Carragh was born. My greatest inspiration.

My motherhood journey has experienced cuts, bruises, bumps, sutures, a broken arm, a peanut allergy, episodes of anaphylactic shock, bags and bags of Epi-pens, school musicals, and theatre productions. We travelled gloriously through station 9 3/4 in the 7 Harry Potter books. The childhood years together were magical.

Hilary is heading to high school to find her art in September. The next several years will prove interesting as she crosses the chasm between adolescence and adulthood. I know we will survive. My mother and I did.

I thank Hilary for making motherhood fun. I wouldn’t have done it without her. I leave you with the lullaby that I had to sing to her every night when she was young.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=PQfNfJSRajA

“Your life is an occasion. Rise to it.”...Mr. Magorium.

Happy Mother's Day!

BIG Hair a la Sally

I come from a family of BIG hair. Our hair is thick, unruly, and curly and has a life of its own. Perhaps that is why I have always been obsessed with hair. I have spent countless years trying to control ‘my lid’ so that it would not overtake me or my life.

Every doll I have ever owned became a victim of my scissors so that I could unleash and express my creative side. I progressed to chopping my own hair when I was five. I can still hear my mother’s wail about my looking like “a boy” and stating that she already had “4 boys and only 1 girl”.

Eventually I graduated to cutting my brothers hair for years. When I got my scissors to them, they referred to me as “José Eber”. I was flattered because José was my icon. José is the leading long haired hair maven. He created the original Farrah wings, the Cher mane, the historic age of wash and wear hair and he showed women how to embrace our own personal style. I watch everything José is doing, have read his books, and I so want to experience his work on my own hair someday.

There was a time when I seriously considered becoming a hairstylist. I would dream about opening a salon and calling it “Jacqui’s Cut & Curl”. Retrospectively my salon name sucks; furthermore, my dad thought I would make a better nurse, which should tell you something about what he thought of my hair creations. I think my dad likened my hair design skills more to a Sweeny Todd character running a tonsorial shop rather than being in the vanguard of beauty like José. What my father never realized was that inside every ICU nurse was a hairstylist screaming to get out, as we snipped our patients hair with suture scissors to leave them looking well groomed and in the perfect “assessment position” at the end of our shift.

Like Sally Allbright in the movie When Harry Met Sally the episodes of my life can be seen through my hairstyles. Thankfully I missed the 60s beehive but I did the 70s Farrah Flip and the afro. The 80s were the height of my singleton days and I’m convinced that I was born when I was, so that I could experience the 80s era. What set the 80s hairstyles apart was their diversity. The start of the decade saw the extravagance of strange hair colours and cuts. By 1984 the trends had settled and focused on one simple concept - volume. More hair was better. Your hair could go up, out and down. It could look like you put your head in a candy floss machine - as long as it wasn't straight! I didn’t even have to try. I had it made.

I was screwed when the 90s saw the return of straighter and more controlled hairstyles. No matter what I tried, my efforts always resulted in big hair. I looked like a Texan. So in an effort to control my hair and my impulse to cherish the 80s I cut my hair as short as I could for as long as I could.

Recently I decided it was time to grow my hair out. That was fine at first, but the longer my hair gets the more unruly and curly it becomes. I invested in a flat iron and tried that for awhile. I hate it and I hate straight hair. So I’m at the crossroads, BIG hair or short cropped hair? Then I heard José`s inner voice say to me, "Shake Your Head, Darling", so I`m letting my hair go au natural and embracing my own personal style. The current flat hair is boring. Who knows, maybe I’ll start a trend towards the return of BIG hair. If not, I still have my trusty suture scissors and short hair is good, it works for me.

So to celebrate my own personal style and uniqueness, I’m going to watch for the 50th time the movie When Harry Met Sally tonight. I never did learn how to “fake it”. OH, and did I forget to say that "Meg Ryan has the best hair of anyone I’ve ever seen and it’s BIG!"

Happy Birthday Ms. Serendipity (“S”)!

"--- you don't reach Serendib by plotting a course for it. You have to set out in good faith for elsewhere and lose your bearings ... serendipitously." The Last Voyage of Somebody the Sailor (John Barth)

Throughout my journey, I’ve met more people than I care to shake a stick at. I’ve had patients, associates, colleagues, family, companions, and, acquaintances. Some have been the bain of my existence, cankers in my mouth, and hemmeroids you know where. Some have provided companionship, humour and fun while others have been the spawn of Satan himself. I can count on my fingers and toes the people in my life who are genuine, ethical, true and kind and, worthy of being called “friend”.

Serendipity is an unsought, unintended, or unexpected discovery, made by accident. So the story goes like this. Ms. Serendipity and I work for the same organization. We worked together on a proposal several years ago. We had different styles and objectives but we got through that time unharmed and intact. Ironically, in recent years I became part of the same department as Ms. Serendipity and unexpectedly, unintentionally, and accidently I found a friend. An unexpected miracle.

If you are familiar with serendipity in science and medicine you’ll know that was how Fleming discovered Penicillin; Richet used toxins to combat anaphylaxis; Jenner found the vaccine for small pox; and, Roentgen discovered X-rays. If you dig deeper you’ll learn about the accidental and unintentional discovery of Silly Putty (I still love Silly Putty); the “Pill”; Teflon; Scotchgard; Rayon; and, Cellophane. By accident these discoveries have revolutionized our modern world. Imagine your world without serendipity.

I tend to view the world through a microscopic lens and find spores and mutagens, whereas my friend “Ms. Serendipity” views the world through a kaleidoscope. Through her lens she helps me to see a world reflected through light, mirrors and prisms which in turn display beautiful symmetrical patterns. She is genuine, ethical, true and, kind. I can’t imagine my world without her. Just think I actually came upon her by accident...

Thanks “Ms. Serendipity” and a very Happy Birthday to You!

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=W6r1175w_lM&feature=related

Meet My Charlotte

Salutations!

Wilbur blushed. "But I'm not terrific, Charlotte. I'm just about average for a pig." "You're terrific as far as I'm concerned," replied Charlotte, sweetly, "and that's what counts. You're my best friend, and I think you're sensational. Now stop arguing and go get some sleep!"

When I was in grade 2 my teacher Miss Kelly read us E.B. White’s Charlotte’s Web. I remember it was a nice story about a cute pig. I didn’t give it much thought after that. When my daughter was around five my mother gave her a video of a cartoon version of Charlotte’s Web. Hilary was enchanted while she watched it and cried at the end of the movie. It was one of those videos that Hilary watched over and over again and the tears flowed each time. Recently Hilary brought home the 2006 movie version; we watched it together one evening. “I finally got it”. Guess who was crying this time?

The theme of Charlotte's Web is the power of loyalty and loving friendship. The novel is a story about a pig named Wilbur who is saved by a spider named Charlotte. They live in the same barn and first become acquainted when Charlotte overhears Wilbur lamenting his loneliness and offers to be his friend. Wilbur thinks she is beautiful and, as he gets to know her, finds her fascinating. A loyal and talented friend, she is as good as her word.

If you recall the story, Wilbur hears that his owner, Mr. Zuckerman, plans to butcher him at Christmas time, Charlotte calms his fears by promising to save him. She makes Mr. Zuckerman believe that Wilbur is an exceptional pig by writing words into the webs she weaves in the corner of the doorway to Wilbur's home in the cellar of the barn. The Zuckerman family and all the neighbours are amazed when they read Charlotte's legend SOME PIG, and take it for a miracle or a mysterious sign. And the wonder grows, along with Wilbur's reputation when Charlotte extends her campaign with other legends: TERRIFIC and RADIANT.

My mom is my Charlotte. I can’t tell you how many times she has supported us and shouted “SOME PIG, TERRIFIC or RADIANT” at us. Okay so she never used the word “pig” as it’s not in her vocabulary but the sentiment and loyalty mirrored Charlotte’s passion for Wilbur. We believed in ourselves because she believed in us.

Towards the end of the novel Wilbur wins a prize at the County Fair. Charlotte weaves one more word, this time above Wilbur's exhibition pen, where everyone could see it. She chooses the word HUMBLE for her ultimate praise, a word she thinks appropriate because its dictionary definitions, not proud and near the ground, fit Wilbur. I reserve that legend for my mom as she is the most HUMBLE person I know and like Charlotte she is beautiful, fascinating, loyal and as good as her word.

Like Charlotte, my mother is the central character in my life story. My mom reared us by following her instincts, by using her intelligence, and by being true to her individual self without being false to her general nature. My mom and Charlotte remind me that heroes are people in a class by themselves because they use their unusual gifts to protect others. They give us wings to fly and teach us to weave our webs.

For the record my mom is “SOME TERRIFIC, RADIANT, HUMBLE LADY, so she is”.

Salutations!

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Urv7tyeJ7qE

Easter Day

For as long as I can remember Easter Sunday has been my favourite day of the entire year. It marked the start of spring which for me symbolized hope and new beginnings.

Growing up at my house, it meant much more. I was raised in the parsonage. Easter was the most important festival in the Christian calendar. It is the commemoration of Jesus' death and his rising from the dead, also known as the resurrection.

Each Easter Day before dawn, my dad would kick us out of bed to attend the sunrise service on Armour Hill in Peterborough, ON. Some Easter days were cold and others were magically warm yet all left me with the feeling of wonder, beauty, and healing. The view of the city was beautiful and the people in our lives at that time were unmatched. I remember the services always ended with the gathered crowd singing “LOW IN THE GRAVE HE LAY”.

The best Easter Days took us to Aunt Edith and Uncle Calvin’s home. As we drove up the Glen Tay road in Perth, ON, we knew that Edith had everything ready for us. As soon as I walked through their door I could smell “home”. She never let me down; she always made her potato salad, salty pork roast, girkens pickles, and beets and, topped it off with her “lazy daisy cake” and raspberry pie. Later, Edith & I would sit together at her kitchen table; drink steeped tea and just talk. I talked with her since I was a child until well into adulthood. She never judged, she listened, she told great stories and parables, she prayed and she loved me unconditionally.

When I was five I made her a plaque from plaster of paris of “the praying hands”. They were awful, the paint job was ugly. Yet she hung it in her front hall and it hung there until she died. I’m sorry Edith, I’m laughing; I never would have hung that plaque in my house. I love her for that. During my teenage years she nicknamed me”Itis” because she thought I was inflamed. When I started nursing, every time I heard a diagnosis that ended in “itis” I would chuckle and think of her.

Edith is with her Saviour this Easter Day. I’ll be up for the sunrise and sing the traditional hymn. Later I’ll host Easter Day for my wonderful family. I won’t make the “lazy daisy cake” or the raspberry pie though, I don’t have Edith’s touch and I want to remember the exact taste like I remember her. I’ll put out the girkens; I don’t think I can do much harm to those.

Happy Easter!

SELF-CONFESSIONS OF A BBC 18TH/19TH CENTURY PERIOD DRAMA QUEEN

I have a confession to make. “I love men in top hats and cravats! “ If you had told me that I did or would 15 years ago, I would have instructed you call 1-800-Get-Lost.

I must thank my English Prof brother “Fish” who insisted so long ago that I read Jane Austen’s novel Pride and Prejudice along with all the painful novels written by Barbara Pym. I happen to admire the hell out of the guy, so I read them out of my respect and admiration for him; although I must confess that the novels were read under duress and a sense of obligation. I was so relieved when I finished them and have often pondered why “Fish” held them in such high regard. I have come to conclusion that it comes down to the ‘rectory’. I am prepared for his challenge. I even have the hymns selected. Take me on Fish!

Then came the day when Fish presented himself at our home with BBC’s drama of Pride and Prejudice. Emphatically Fish stated that I would love it. I thought silently, ‘not likely’. I had no intention of watching it. My husband insisted we should watch the first of the 6 episodes to appease him. We did and I was hooked...all night for 6 hours straight. I fell in love with Mr. Darcy. Colin Firth will always be my Mr. Darcy.

The “Fish” returned with a vengeance with BBC’s drama of Bronte’s Jane Eyre. I had never read the book and protested as I had seen the William Hurt version and hated the movie. Again my sensible husband thought we should watch the first episode. We did and I was hooked...all night; for 4 hours straight. Mr. Rochester and Jane Eyre had the most erotic boot porn I’ve ever seen. Whoever said you had to get naked?


Enough is enough right? The “Fish” returned a few weeks ago with BBC’s drama series of Elizabeth Gaskell’s North & South. I put my foot down. I was not watching it! My husband started watching the series while I worked on other assignments. Curiosity was killing me and the next thing I (pride and prejudice) knew; I was sitting there beside him (sense and sensibility) and watched the entire series without a spoken word. This time the hero was not the man in the top hat and cravat but the female heroine Margaret Hale.

CONTRASTING THE STORIES

Pride and Prejudice and North and South have interesting similarities yet profound differences. Pride and Prejudice focuses on the effect that social mores and class influences have on the lives of the characters. Elizabeth Bennett and her sister Jane were, in Darcy’s opinion, beneath and unworthy of Bingley and himself, due to the socially inferior family they were born into. Many of the social conventions during this historical period tended to shackle the human spirit and thwart the possibility for love to come to fruition between individuals who may have been otherwise suited. While these obstacles were overcome in Pride and Prejudice, we wonder whether Austen has made the leap toward the fantastical, if not unbelievable, in bridging the chasm between the classes.

Fortunately for the world, the industrial revolution came along and down came the walls of many of the absurd conventions of the eighteenth century. The notion that an English Gentleman would be disgraced if he had to get his hands dirty in order to save the honour and integrity of his family was dispelled by Gaskell in North and South. Margaret Hale recognized that she herself was guilty of romanticizing the North (Milton), after having had the opportunity to contrast it with life in the mundane, more conventional south. The development of her attachment to Mr. Thornton evolved as she observed his propensity to become increasingly more sensitive to the condition and plight of his workers, thereby making him more human. Thornton pointed out that initially the industrial revolution would bring about hardship and difficulty, but that society would benefit over time from its development.

It is interesting that Margaret Hale was the conduit for Thornton’s transformation. She brought out the best in his character; she was acutely aware of his flaws as a person but continued to defend his character throughout the story despite the opinion of those who were willing to write him off as a monster. It is also interesting to note that she was ultimately portrayed as his economic equal at the conclusion of the story; unlikely to have occurred during Austen’s eighteenth century England. The industrial revolution, it can be argued, contributed to a greater level of humanization within society. The Hale/Thornton romance was for me more compelling and identifiable as it occurred within a wider context of human struggle. They just needed a little boot porn to top it off ;)

MY VOTE:

Best Story:
☼ North & South

Best man in a top hat and cravat:
☼ Mr. Thornton

Best Heroine:
☼ Margaret Hale

Best Storyteller:
☼ BBC