Jamma Party: The Life of Jenn Y.

Nice:


Cancer (Me) & Capricorn (John)
A union of talents quite likely to produce harmony. One is delighted to take care of the home and children while the other goes out in the world to earn the family's keep. Each helps the other to fulfill an ambition, in realms that are perfectly complementary. The Saturnine personality benefits from Cancer's intuition, and the moonchild appreciates Capricorn's ability to achieve financial security. They take the time to love, understand, and cuddle each other. An ideal marriage: conventional, happy, and united for life.

Here's to 2005- may it be more caring and altrusitc a year than 2004, and much less weird.

New Year's Resolutions:

1) Exercise a lot more. This one seems to be an annual staple. Darn.

2) Be an Indie Bride-to-be. Just picked up Book #3 in The Anti-Bride Series, The Anti-Bride's Guide To Ettiquette. Score.

3) Champion any local/national legislation that would advocate that all bad little children that hurt animals and other kids be shipped off to a deserted island rampant with severe dysentary, no toilet paper or video games and big bullies to guard and atomic wedgie them daily, and that their idiot parents who deny or condone this crap undergo manditory neutering, never to procreate again. Seriously, this story has me steamed. I'm hoping the new year brings justice for that kitten, and for all the innocent animals and humans that are in harm's way.

4) Celebrate womanhood globally. As ElastiGirl says, "Ladies, we wanna leave the safety of the world up to the men? No way!" Without us Chicks, the boys are doomed. United, we are stronger than ever!

5) More peace. Welcoming our good troops home, safe and sound.

6) Lavish lots of love and attention on FiFi.

7) Finish the purple sweater and at least one of the Virginia Tech afghans that have been sitting, neglected for sometime now.

Happy New Year!

Anyhoo,
I found this link on my home page that basically lists all the relief organizations accepting donations for the Tsunami victims in Asia. Visit, learn, give- that's a good way to start the year.

Also, if you are like me, and scenes in movies that feature this website. Also you can find out which films to diss and boycott because they feature animal cruelty. Visit, learn, act- another great way to start the new year.

Now, I'm off to watch my movies!!!

Happy New Year!
Love,
Jenn and FiFi

She is 77 years old, living with breast cancer that has recently spread to her bones. She is originally from North Carolina, was a patient at the prestigious Duke University. Her husband, unable to take care of her due to his own significant health issues, moved her to Virginia, specifically, Southside Richmond, to live with her son and her grandchildren. Her son works the swing shift for not much money. Along with the cancer, she has diabetes. Although she is able to take insulin everyday, she is still very concerned about taking her blood sugar daily. Her blood sugar monitor was lost in the move from North Carolina, and they were told her insurance would not cover a replacement. Money is tight, and the family has delayed buying her a new one (estimated price $50) because they simply cannot afford it. She lets me know this each time I come to visit her. She is my patient.

Sandy, my boss, called me the other day when I was out in the field. She has a friend at a local home care supply company, and we've been able to track down a free blood sugar monitor (also known as a glucometer), and it can be covered by her Medicare. Also, the home care supply company will take her information and follow up with her to get her the rest of the supplies she needs for diabetes, things we as Hospice will not be able to cover, for absolutely free of charge.

Yesterday I went to visit her before the holidays, to fill up her pill box and make sure she had everything she needs, also, to give her the gift she has been waiting for, something that could help save her from dangerous complications, so that she can focus on spending the limited time she has left on this Earth with her family. I couldn't wait to show her that she had a new glucometer, and to tell her the good news that she no longer has to worry about such small things as test strips and insulin needles. At the end of my visit, she takes my hand, and presses it to her cheek, and tells me, "Merry Christmas. I'm so glad you came here to see me today."

As I leave, I have to ask myself, "now, who really gave a gift to whom?" And I smile.

Happy Holidays, Everyone!
Love,
Jenn and FiFi

Big and I have the flu. Well, not today, but through the weekend. Considering that two Heartland employees and two of the nursing homes I frequent were spewing out virus-ladden snot everywhere, it was only a matter of time that my immune system fell prey to a rather nasty strain of the common cold, exacerbated by the fact that there are no goddamn flu shots anywhere in the cit-tay.

Effective Friday at 4AM, I was sick. My throat burned, and talking was out of the question. Actually, getting out of bed was pretty much out of the question. Luckly, Nurse FiFi stayed with me the majority of the day, always ready to administer an as needed dose of T.L.C. It was actually not bad, as the Tylenol Cold I consumed during the day allowed me to nap soundly as it fought the evil viral symptoms. Saturday wasn't much better, but at least the throat pain stopped. I was able to go out for a bit and buy more cold medicine to battle the head congestion, got some DVDs, and head back for a nap.

Big and I are never really sick, and when we are, we're big big whiny dorks about it. So when either one of us is sick, or even worse, if we are sick together, it's not a pretty picture. Sunday morning, I awoke feeling a lot better though still symptomatic. Unfortunately, Big woke up coughing and congested, but was less of a weenie than I was and actually trooped out despite recent onset of disease. We went out to breakfast as the Thera Flu started kicking in. Between our sweatiness, sniffling, and gorked out expressions, it's a wonder no one accused us of being junkees coming off the H. It's ironic because it's kind of how we felt. Neither one of us take medication regularly, so when we do expose our livers to such things as anti-histamines, it produces an effect double to that of the average medicated American. In short, it knocks me on my arse. We soon returned home, where poor Fee, tired of the plague of illness that invaded her little cozy abode, sought refuge in the closet for the remainder of the day. Big's coughing became severe at times, which kept him and I up a significant portion of the night. I'd also like to point out that both Big and I are card carrying members of the 8 or More Hours of Sleep A Night Club. I'm convinced that if Big could hibernate like a bear during winter, he'd gladly oblige (not that I can't blame him, because I'd probably do the same thing). Combine that with the fact that we both had to go out this morning and scrape ice and snow off our cars did leave either us cheerfully singing that it was off to work we go, hi-ho.

Luckly, we found an unlikely remedy in each of us going off to work, where Big said he found that when he got food in his stomach, took a dose of Dayquil, and had an activity in front of him that distracted him, he actually felt better. And to tell you the truth, I actually felt better as well being out and about, although the dry windy air wreaked havoc on my humidifier-spoiled lungs.
I raided the Cold N Cough section of Walgreens, got some more Thera Flu and, the mother load, a bottle of Robitussin CF. CF is absolutely the best stuff out there to decrease coughing. It burns like hell going down, but it works. I've also cranked up the humidifier and we're currently eating very spicy sandwiches from Wendy's to open up our nasal cavities, and so far we've managed to keep the foul virus at bay, and foul moods from running rampant. Thankfully, we'll be over this soon, and will feel up to devising a plan so that by the time we have children, we will be successfully able to coordinate our immune systems to never be sick together again.

Last night, Bigs and I went out with my co-worker, Heather, and her husband, Joe to a tacky house tour. It was coordinated by a former co-worker of Joe's, who puts it on every year. You pay $15, and get on a bus and ride around town looking at the most decorated houses in the cit-tay. It is also BYOB. Big and I are not huge fans of bus tours to begin with, but Heather and Joe made it sound fun, so we decided to give it a good-willed try.

Let's set the scene:
Me and Big, dressed in jeans. Me in the Rolling Stones Tour 1973 replica tee I picked up at Hot Topic the previous day. Big is wearing the Crow t-shirt I bought him for Christmas. On the back is written "You Job Is To Tell Them That Death Is Coming For Them. Tonight." The rest of the crew, including Heather and Joe, reside in the Glen Allen area and are dressed in bright colors, looking as if they emerged directly from the Snow Bunny and Ski Dude sections of the Abercrombie catalog. To say we felt out of place was an understatement. And it only got better.

From the years of roadie crew work for Uisce Beatha, the two of us have learned that if one imbibes, it's best to pace yourself, not to get too out of control too quickly, because you don't really want to be That Person who crashes and burns, and does something that many will talk about for tours to come. Joe could tell me exactly which returning tourists made an ass of themselves last year. And basically, the unspoken rule of rock and roll is that the band can basically pass out somewhere and it's cool. For the road crew to do so not only disses the band, but you're basically useless and put more work on your buddies.

That Person morphed into a bunch of people as the hours went on and on. Basically, we were on a moving bus with open containers of alcohol with what appeared to be lightweights, getting drunk on Miller Light, and making faces as they sampled our drink of choice to bring, Dark and Stormys (Black Seal bermuda rum and ginger beer). In hour number two and a half, someone behind us opened up a bottle of Tequila, and began passing it around to his group. Many many off-key Christmas carols serenaded us as we continued to ride the Booze Bus From Hell. By the time we reached the James Center, the finale of the tour, Big and I were stone cold sober and stepped off the bus for about a minute, gazed as some party members attempted to climb on the illuminated reindeer, while the others went off to climb the Christmas tree, sticking their heads through the gaps so someone could take a picture. That is the tradition of the tour apparently.

I'm certainly not looking down upon these people and their traditions, but I really wouldn't do it again because it was simply not my scene. I'm used to a crowd that could party with Keith Richards and look cool doing it, but somewhere in the middle of everything, no matter how much booze is floating around, someone usually will start a conversation about world events, or something significant to basic humanity. None of that was going on, and if there was, it was so loud and the radio was blaring Celine Dion yammering about Feliz Navidad that we couldn't hear it. The only highlight was when they started playing "Do They Know It's Christmas." I attempted to lead the bus in the chorus of "Feed The World! Let them know it's Christmas time again!" unsuccessfully (they didn't know the song), and then Big and I got into a discussion about how kick-ass Live Aid was. But that was about it. And we met one cool couple who recently got married in Vegas. John asked me to be on-call next year for the tour so we wouldn't have to go again. I think I'll stay home and work on my peace-promoting, gay and lesbian friendly Christmas cards.

Eternal Sunshine of The Spotless Mind is a rather strange but engaging film about a man (a really amazing Jim Carrey) who finds out his long-term quirky girlfriend Clementine (Kate Winslet, "plus-sized" drama queen, who looks fabulous and healthy without having sticks for arms) has undergone a procedure in which she erased all memory of him from her mind. The man, Joel, decides to undergo the same procedure, and contacts her doctor and his wacky staff (Tom Wilkenson, Kirsten Dunst) for the all-night procedure. In the middle of the procedure, as each memory is being erased, Joel realizes he wants to remember Clementine- good, bad, and ugly, and scrambles to hide her in memories that don't involve her so she can stay forever in his mind. Confused yet? We were too, and we had to pause and discuss with each other a few times, but for the most part, we found the story actually got better as the film progressed.

(BTW, Big said he'd never have memories of me erased if we ever broke up. Aww.)

Today I took out a new girl into the field. Her name is Mary, and she's an RN. She was very active in the anti-Vietnam War radical movement. She told me she had been arrested five times and was very proud of it. One time was because she and a girlfriend chained themselves to an Embassy building in D.C. Her fiancee died in Vietnam. We talked politics for a little while, and I showed her the Wellstone book I was reading. She regaled me with tales from the 60s, which was awesome.

I'm slowing letting this weekend get out of my system. There is no one person to blame for the whole thing. The problem should have been discovered before the weekend. None of the nurses from Hospice, including myself, who saw the patient were informed by the staff that the patient needed any refills. But none of us throroughly checked the medication administration record for nursing initials, which indicate that a medication was given. This one had a bunch of blank areas. I did look at the record, and I did see the order, but I did not look at the initials because I TRUSTED that the facility would give a medication that was scheduled to be given, and if any problems arose, they would call us as promptly as possible before 2:15 in the morning on Sunday, which is when the problem was discovered. So it was a big cluster fu--. Leslie also, while reinforcing no one was perfect, stated it was something to work and grow on. So I'm over it.

I feel better today. Misery loves company, and every nurse at my job has had a run-in with this specific doctor, and we all agree that he does probably hate babies. Whether or not he steals Snickers bars nor drinks his own pee is yet to be determined, but the visual images did amuse a lot of people.

Despite that, I do believe it is better to put out positive energy rather than negative energy. Take this afternoon for example. I was in the CVS on Lakeside Ave, and was buying a Dr. Pepper, and nothing else. The little couple in front of me in the checkout line had a cart with various items, but let me go ahead of them in line. "I'm practicing the spirit of Christmas," the wife said, and smiled at me. I thanked them and wished them a Merry Christmas on my way out. Positive energy all around. It was nice.

Dr. S----- A---- has farty pants. There, I said it. He forced me to do it. I didn't want to. But he has it coming.

He's a "doctor" who everyone hates because he's so hateful. The little old nurses at the nursing homes in the area have their own little names for him- "a$$hole"and "miserable sh-t" are two of the most popular. It makes me wonder what his parents did to him that made him so awful.

Today a patient needed a prescription, and he told me he couldn't do it because he didn't have a fax machine strapped to his back, then he hung up on me. Luckly I was able to find a pharmacy that would accept a verbal order and got the patient what he needed, but still, I'd like to have twisted his manparts into various fun shapes. I wrote him up, and maybe I'll send him some ex-lax brownies or something, and sign a competing hospice's name on it. But otherwise, I will just sit back and wait. He's this close to being kicked out of a local hospital because he's so bad, so it's only a matter of time. In the meantime, just keep your grandparents away from him. He's evil.

Boy that felt good.

Oh, and he most likely also steals Snickers bars from the hospital gift shops. I think he also hates babies. Haven't confirmed it, but I suspect.

And, he most likely drinks his own pee.

He really has it coming.

Thank you for listening.

Even though Lent is about 4 months away, I'm thinking already about what I am going to give up: Television.

Big and I were watching TV last night, and we've become aware of a rewarding trend- reality TV shows are running out of ideas. First NBC had a show about a millionaire trying to find an heir. Then FOX has a show about a billionaire trying to find an heir (except in this show they go skydiving, which is just like that show where the people eat gross stuff and do even grosser stuff.) Now, TBS has a show ripping off Gilligan's Island, but has a rather eery resemblence to Survivor. Now ABC and FOX have shows about a nanny trying to tame bratty children, at least 2 networks have shows about trading spaces or spouses, and I think all the networks have shows about large groups of people, sometimes famous people, living together in houses, as well as shows featuring people with dramatic makeovers.

It comforts me to know that the jackals are feasting on the same bloated carcass, ready to turn on each other and go for the jugular, so this whole bloody mess can be over with. Kinda like how talk shows went. Until then, I'll keep on not wasting any effort on watching, discussing nor being offended by them.

Speaking of, this week's South Park featured Paris Hilton as a "stupid spoiled whore." Their words, not mine. I enjoyed the show thoroughly, though the message (that worshipping and enabling her bad behavior and encouraging young girls to be just like her is very very very wrong) isn't shocking nor eye-opening. In the words of Robin Williams, "f-cking duh."