Study Abroad Nursing

NRSE 414 Professional Nursing Role offered through Central Connecticut State University is taking a class of registered nurses to Dublin, Ireland, in March 2011, and I am signed on. This is part of my RN-to-BSN Program. The subtitle of the trip is A Cross-cultural Comparison of U.S. and Irish Health Services for Marginalized Populations.

Here is the book list:

• SPRING 2011
• NRSE
• 414
• 70

Remove Course

• POLICY+POLITICS IN NURSING+HEALTH CARE
• REQUIRED

Author:MASON Edition:5TH 07 Publisher:ELSEVIER ISBN:9781416023142

Purchase Option Used if available$64.35 New$85.80

• SEX TRAFFICKING
• REQUIRED

Author:KARA Edition:08 Publisher:PERSEUS D ISBN:9780231139601

Purchase Option Used if available$19.10 New$25.45

• IRISH APARTHEID
• REQUIRED

Author:BURKE Edition:N/A Publisher:IRISH BKS ISBN:9781848400368

Of the three, only Sex Trafficking is available in an e-book format, so I went that route. This book is utterly unbearable and, as testament to that, of my eight stalwart online reading companions of the last fourteen years, only one, so far, is able to entertain reading it with me. It is unbearable to read alone. The ninth stalwart reading companion, beloved friend, died just this past December. She might have had the courage to hold me up while I read this book. Who's to say?

For any readers who don't know me, nursing is a second (third? fourth?) career for me. In the 1980's I spent a decade working in commercial banking as an executive assistant. Now that's a broad term and a fancy way of saying "secretary" but as the all-out geek and techno-guru that I am, the experience was varied and rich. It afforded a bird's eye view of the inner workings of a banking industry always on the cusp of another merger. This meant a constant eye on "asset quality" and "scrubbing" to retain only the best portfolios, i.e., the loans most likely to be repaid.

Hence the rapacious greed that marked the banking and finance industry as we trolled through the nineties and into the New Millennium seemed a stranger in town. By then, I had moved on, raising a young family and tending my husband's business.

Although now the Mortgage Crisis is history, we're still reeling from it, with record unemployment that shows no sign of abating. Questions keep arising over the past 10 to 15 years as I have observed these changes. I have wondered: where is our food grown? who is growing and harvesting our food? who makes our clothes and all the things we buy? Because we know manufacturing has been "exported" and our farms sold, the land "developed."

Four years ago I returned to rural Erie County, Pennsylvania, for a high school class reunion. It is still rural and beautiful, the rolling farmland unsullied by residential sprawl. The odd, remarkable, feature, though, is that the farms are now owned and operated by nameless, faceless, corporations. The people seen working the fields "look foreign." Indeed, the conservative cry is to stem illegal immigration. "They're taking our jobs!!!"

Before I started reading this book, I wondered whether those workers had any protection under The Law. Illegal immigrants brought in to work cheaply are a boon to employers who don't want to pay Worker's Comp insurance, provide health insurance, or adhere to wage and overtime laws. Do they have any protections for their personal safety and well-being? Now I wonder whether they're paid at all. The same holds true for people I see working construction sites, and that darn nagging suspicion is given weight in this book also.

Lastly, for now, consider the plight of young adults today, graduating from college with such a heavy burden of debt that marriage, family, and homeownership are postponed indefinitely. Can you say "indentured servant?" "Bonded labor?" Consider the plight of the mid-aged worker, not yet old enough or ready for retirement, but whose job has either been made obsolete or outsourced. Americans of all ages are looking for ways to reinvent themselves in a world of shrinking employment opportunities. I am beginning to understand that the allure of "cheap labor abroad" spells exploitation of disadvantaged poor and often war-ravaged people. And the way that we have mortgaged our lifestyle since the 1950's has made us increasingly vulnerable to an existence of fewer choices and loss of freedom.

What does this have to do with my upcoming Ireland Study Abroad experience? That remains to be seen. I'll keep you posted.

Read with me!

Speak Easy

Increasingly I have become overwhelmed at the prospect of trying to pick up a second language. The plan has always been to pick up Spanish, and that plan is still intact. But, while Spanish and English predominate in my section of the country, many, many, ethnicities are represented, such as Polish, Lithuanian, Italian, and Portuguese, to name a few. I might add French and Arabic as well. I marvel at the way many people I meet speak more than one language and I feel left behind, with my one.

Interestingly, the one skill I picked up in the year that I have now been working in a hospital that is renown for respiratory care is lip-reading. It was daunting at first. Think of all the accents and ways of speaking you encounter in people with spoken language and it all applies to lip-leading too. People have different inflection in their expression. One day early on I came to the understanding that I was attempting to lip-read in Spanish!!!

There are neural disorders that preclude even mouthing words. Over time, after that day of the shock about trying to lip-read in Spanish, I have come to understand we are communicating regardless of spoken language. The people I am attempting to lip-read in Spanish communicate with me even though I have no Spanish. Daily, as I finish my shift, I wonder how in the world we communicated at all. And I do not have the answer.

I notice that many people express discomfort at hearing so much non-English spoken and make disparaging remarks about people they do not even know. Communication, though, transcends spoken language. I mean, even, and especially, your pets are "reading" you.

I will still stick with the plan to learn to speak Spanish but I am happy to find communication in many forms.

Henry is Home

This entry needs to begin with one very important piece of information and that is that my Ancie cat died on March 30, 2010, at the age of almost-18. I had never had a pet companion that long. My really old kitty, Fluffy, had died two years before at the age of 21, but they arrived to our house within two weeks of each other, and Ancie first, back in 1992. Maureen voiced my own query on the matter one time, wondering about Fluffy watching her grow from toddler to adult, what did she make of it? In eighteen years, a lot has happened, and Ancie (and Fluff) walked that journey with us. That means a lot.

Spike and Ancie had a nice thing going. He's a really good boy, really loving, and they grew companionable. Then, her kidneys failed entirely, and, well, that was that. Inasmuch as Spike is shamelessly devoted to me, I also wanted a cat companion for him. Enter Henry.

Like Spike, Henry comes to me via The Feline Foundation of Greater Washington, or FFGW, for whom my sister is a foster mom. I fell in love with Henry out of her stories about him.

Henry is a nine-month old Siamese youngster. The outstanding thing about him is that he is blind and probably since birth. The veterinary ophthalmologist said that he has eyes, but they are very small, and hidden behind a layer of tissue. The little note that came with him, the one that gives his story, what the FFGW knows about him, is that he came out of a "high kill" shelter in North Carolina in a group of eight kittens to a woman with a horse farm. He was known as Rose. That lady took all eight to the veterinarian for check-ups, vaccinations, and neutering. He was then known as Stevie the Wonder Cat, a la Stevie Wonder . . .

Siamese Rescue wouldn't take him. He qualifies as a Lynx Point Siamese Cat but they thought he would be hard to place because he is "medically challenged."

My sister and I went through a silly phase of trying to come up with the right name for this cat, briefly choosing the name Ajne, the chakra for inner sight. It was just too hard to say! When the decision was made that he would come home to me in Connecticut, I decided on Henry, the Cross Country Cat, as in the Mary Calhoun books.

He is truly amazing and awesome! First, he made the arduous six-hour-drive-that-took-nine-and-a-half-hours home like a trooper. Car riding does not phase him in the least. Nothing phases him. The kids were all home, waiting up for his arrival, swooped him out of the car while the engine was still running, and into the house.

He explored the whole house, in its entirety, then and there. He marched purposefully, nose held up just a little, fore paws a little high stepping, like a gaited horse, and didn't walk into much, pretty much navigated. He hit one wall. Also, he marched straight into Spike, who looked baffled. I don't understand how he does it.

So he's been home three days. In the first 24 hours, he won over the two dogs and Spike. He is fearless, intrepid, inquisitive, and brilliant. Each day, I can hardly tear myself away to do the things I am expected to do, like go to work. I love watching him explore his new home and interact with everyone. And especially, I love to watch him and Spike play.

At some point, and I hope soon, I will stop thinking of him as a blind Siamese cat, and stop referring to him that way. As of now, I am still transfixed watching him do the things young cats do, and realize he's stalking, pouncing, and playing with toys, despite being unable to see. He's darned cool, that cat! "Some smart cat!"

Welcome home Henry!

Love from your new mom

About my Dog

We've had our Cheyenne dog for ten years and she's eleven years old. We adopted her from the Humane Society. I always assumed that she is a mixed breed but really could not figure out what breeds she is, other than some hound. I never really tried to find out either. This lack of curiosity is odd in me. I call her my big red dog.

We actually found her in Petsmart and by accident. The Humane Society will showcase dogs there. We went in just to browse, found her, and fell in love with her. All they knew about her was that she lost her home because she "didn't get along with other pets."

We went home that day and got our Maggie dog, brought her back to meet Chey, and they loved each other from that moment! We adopted Chey.

The thing was, she had this evil, nasty, cat fixation. She

wanted to annihilate my cats. Our Fluffy cat got her trained, but it took about five years to accomplish. We have the Invisible Fence in

the house to create dog-free zones. Fluff had the physics figured out so she could move through the dog zones back to the safe zones before the dog could reach her, or she'd sit just beyond the dog's reach and appear impassive. She got the dog trained.

Cheyenne, otherwise, is fabulous and, whoever had her for her first year trained her beautifully.

When we adopted our cat Spike in March of 2008, I thought Chey would be fine, but she reverted to her old cat ways and he had to get her trained too. He, too, figured out about the indoor Invisible Fence, utilized the safe zones, and that desensitization took only about five days. Spike is so loving, he will rub up against Chey and Chey gets a really puzzled look about it.

So anyway, I was at - you guessed it - Petsmart last night and was browsing calendars. There is one of a breed of dog called Rhodesian Ridgeback, and dang! but that looks like my dog Chey! Although, I think she is still mixed with something else.

Then I found a book on lots of dog breeds and looked up the Rhodesian Ridgeback. It's a hunting hound dog from Rhodesia that was bred as a guard dog and used to hunt lions!!!! Good grief! The description of the breed's temperament is my Chey to a tee: intelligent, obstinate, requires excellent training, needs lots of exercise, prefers to sleep on the couch.

This dog is so even-tempered and well-mannered that, when people meet her, they want a dog. She's like the LL Bean dog. I cannot imagine her guarding or protecting us, she is so gentle. When I am home, the dogs and the cats are glued to me. I stumble over this dog about three times a week. I have actually fallen on this dog, sat on her, stumbled into her. She has never made an aggressive move in the ten years I have known her.

Also, I have always suspected that she is smarter than I am and that she owns me.

So I am amazed to find out her breed and her heritage and I think it's pretty cool. Those are actually links to two different web sites on the breed. The first is to the AKC web site, but there is only a drawing of the dog and one small photo. The other link is to Wikipedia, with more photos to compare to my dog.

911 Reflections

My first-born child turned 20 on the 10th. I am glad it wasn't the 11th in light of what was to come in 2001.

Television has always taken great effort for me, I cannot seem to remember the schedule for shows that I like and I just don't tune in. This disinterest deepened after 09/11/2001 until when probably around the first of October of that year, I stopped watching TV news and Oprah Winfrey. I had just seen those images too many times.

I notice this morning on Facebook lots of links from my contacts for video and whatnot of that day. Not for me.

Wait! This is not the blog I had composed in my head yesterday. Yesterday, 09/11/2009, I had two job interviews. After my usual daily bit of excessive bathing and grooming, I was left with a lot of time to flollop about the house trying not to get dirty or mussed or to dump my coffee on myself while I waited to leave for the first interview. It was easy to think back on some other 09/11's.

The one in 1989 was the morning that dawned as my first day as a mother. It is a day I know for certain that my life changed significantly. I knew it was a momentous day and I embraced it and this newborn daughter, who seemed as if she must have always existed for me. Suddenly I could no longer remember my life without her. How does that happen!

I know for certain that day that my brothers Tim and Dave trooped in together with my father to see us. They felt delightedly conspiratorial because I was in a sort of ICU and they felt that they had snuck in. I was back in labor and delivery for "intensive care" because of a precipitous immediate postpartum interval. In fact, I had experienced the longest night of my life at the hands of a mean and rough nurse, with my focal preoccupation that of cheering on the wee hours of the morning, minute-by-minute, awaiting the change of shift at 7 a.m. Of that gleeful and silly trio that trooped in that morning, only Tim remains in material form for me now.

These things passed in my thoughts yesterday as I awaited departure for the first interview. I decided it was a good day for two job interviews. As a particular date that we ought to wipe off the calendar forever, just to hop from September 10 to September 12, like the 13th floor of many high rise buildings, why not look at it as a day of great opportunity? So I did.

"A Brief History of Time" By Stephen W. Hawking

Tam recommended this book as a very readable, layman's, explanation of some of this century's theoretical physics. Maureen's Joe was askance; he is a Hawking fan and assured me that "A Brief History of Time" is not the layman's version, but that "The Universe in a Nutshell" is the one. Joe's comments came at a good time, as I walked in to the kitchen to ask Maureen to explain one of the diagrams.

Actually, I brought this book along on the kayak trip to Vermont. That was the trip in which I could not keep up with Tam paddling, although she would announce that she was going to "take it easy" and so forth. And I veritably trotted up Mount Ascutney behind her! Alak! The kids reminded me that she was a physics major before going over to the Dark Side (english!). Good thing she's so lovable!

Even so, Hawking is a delight.

I had actually made a foray into Brian Greene's "The Elegant Universe" a couple summers ago, and read a biography on Einstein last summer. But I do actually think the Hawking rendition of relativity and quantum mechanics is the . . . er . . . most cohesive, or shall I say, friendly.

There are moments when I feel as if it's all hocus pocus, and that these people are proving their hocus pocus with more hocus pocus. Then again, people such as Einstein, and Hawking, come along who are not only very credible, but reassuring. I mean, these things in science - all of it - blow my mind. But if you have someone sensible who seems to understand it, I guess our world really is marvelous.

Anyway, after such a reading, the night sky, resplendent in stars, is even more awesome.

Don't Try This at Home!

This summer I have taken to my bicycle once again, in a desire to give my knees a break from running. Spending the Kayak Weekend with Tam, I learned all about a bike trek she will undertake next spring along a route from Philadelphia to Washington, D.C. This intrigues me and I have a notion to set about to do the same on my own. Thus I have begun to take stock of myself and my bicycle with an eye to readying both.

My first line of inquiry was into toe clips. Toe clips are attached to the pedals and serve to hold the foot in place on the pedal to provide the ability to pull the pedal up as well as push it down for hill work. Hence, pedaling is easier.

I had been in the stores looking for toe clips for my bike and was not liking what I was finding. For quite a bit of money specially-made pedal and shoes are available that are made to hook up to each other. This set-up has a safety release, like ski bindings, to release the foot in case of a fall. The others do not.

Then one night last week Mark said, "I have a set of toe clips!" like a light bulb went off. And he found them! They're brand new and 30 years old and he managed to locate them amongst all his treasures! This is a simple aluminum "basket" that the front of the foot slides into. When you fall, you have to remember to slide your foot out so you can brace your fall. :>) Mark put them on for me that evening.

The next morning off I went on my maiden run with the toe clips. Getting the first foot in was easy because you do it while you're standing still. Getting the 2nd one in takes . . . skill. Oiy!!! It's all uphill out of my driveway in the direction I am going. The basket is heavier than the pedal, so it wants to hang upside down and scrape the road on the downstroke. Meanwhile, as if pedaling up Keegan Road is not enough, I was pedaling right-footed while trying to catch and hold with the left pedal toe clip. I almost knocked myself over. Finally, after much flubbing around, I was in two-footed.

There are spots where I stop to catch my breath, but not this day! No siree! I was hoping for a green light at the busy intersection of South Street and Route 6 and stopping would necessitate dropping the toe clips, and then starting up again - with onlookers! Red light! Full stop. Drop toe clips. But, a little smoother start this time.

So up and down and up and down for several miles, then I was way up with a gorgeous view, then a little dip, picked up momentum and another big, long, up . . . street sweeper! at the bottom of the big long up! One-way traffic and someone directing it, stopping me and letting oncoming cars through!!! Mr. Traffic Man! My toe clips! My momentum! So, I slowed to a crawl but did not stop, then big smile between traffic man and me and I began my big up. Oy!

And somewhere along my trip I became adept at picking up the 2nd toe clip, just got the hang of it. Glorious ride!

Then there were a few days off because I was away at Cape Cod and now I am loathe to summon the nerve to go out again and have more toe clip adventures! I must get brave again!