New Favorite Quote

...aside from a handful of ones from the Hitchhiker's Guide To The Galaxy, of course :)

From "The Island"

Lincoln Six-Echo: What's "God"?
McCord: Well, you know, when you want something really bad and you close your eyes and you wish for it? God's the guy that ignores you.

The Downside of Being the Software Guru of the Edmonton Office

It was my background in software deployment and troubleshooting OS issues that made me the perfect pick for this new position. The guy I report to now is just as good as the one I reported to when I was working out of the Edmonton office. In fact, I've known this guy for a lot longer. And he's in my WoW guild on Bronzebeard :) But still, there are so many things to get past...

I haven't come home and cried since Monday, which may be a positive thing depending on who you ask. I also haven't been to the 5th floor of the Active Treatment Center. Or the 4th floor of the Women's Center, another place that would trigger the tears too (Labour and Delivery ward). But today was just as depressing.

Since the batch of systems I was to image appeared to all have bad network cards in them, I was kind of stuck in the morning with not a lot to keep me busy. So that's when my team leader thought it would be a good idea for me to shadow that geek again, and deploy a few systems in some department (I can't remember what he called it, all he warned me of was that I was going to have to put on scrubs to be there). So off I went again, following the cart-pushing dork to the bowels of the hospital.

Little to my knowledge before hand, there's a whole set of underground cooridors benieth the 3 buildings to this place. A winding maze of concrete walls, sloped floors and insulated pipes. It's the easiest way to bring equipment between the buildings, and I'm guessing perfect in the winter when you don't feel like freezing your ass off to go from one building to another. But still, it feels dismal. Artifical light, no windows, the temprature changing drastically from one cooridor to the next, and the smell stale. And then we get to this huge room with secured access. The first thing I had to do upon entering was put on a hospital scrub gown overtop of my outfit, and one of those big, baggy blue hair nets on my head. The room started off as a series of rows of large metal box carts, each being filled with gear necessary for the care of patients in the hospital. Sterile water humidification attachments for oxygen masks, bed pans, bandage changing equipment, etc. Rows and rows of this stuff. In another section, huge spray booths for disenfecting carts which carried used equipment. Further down, huge industrial sized washing machine type units with big spin wheel closures, looking more like a missle launcher in a submarine than a washing machine. Another part was hand sterilization of smaller equipment, such as forceps and those nasty duck billed doohickies all women know and loathe cause they pinch and are way too bloody cold. And then, the section I stood by for the longest period of time while hooking up one of the systems. Rows and rows of huge baker's racks with labled bins of plastic and paper sealed equipment. In there I found countless things I've never seen. This weird looking thing that was about 2 feet long and looked like a drill chuck attached to the end of a stiff plastic cord. This odd type of circular net attached to a 1 foot pole, with what looked to be a handle that would allow for the closure of the top of the net at the other end. And then there was the stuff I did reconize. Intubator tubes for neonatal machine assistat breathing. The teeny tiny little circle patch things they use for premies to read their vitals. Packaged lengths of IV tubing. The list goes on.

Wasn't nice. But a little less connected to the sadness than my expierences on Monday. Those were just items, items LIKE the ones they used, but not the exact ones. Still, and maybe it's just me, but looking at that stuff I can't help but think that for the most part, this place was equipped to assist in the horrible parts of people's lives. Not a whole ton of people go to the hospital with a smile on their face. Most go in because of an accident, a problem, pain, whatnot. And while the goal is to fix things before they leave, it's that time inbetween that they're preairing for.

Negative spin, I know. That's just how I see this stuff. And to me, the RAH is home to some of the most horrible events I have ever had the misfortune of living through. Menerva Jr.'s life was the only joy amongst all that pain and sorrow, and yet, all I can do is associate the negative portions of it all to that place. The joy of seeing her face, watching her move, feeling her heartbeat steady when I held her... All of those things I can remember without linking them to that place. I can link them to me and her. But everything else just festers in that place.

After my Dad passed away, my Mom went to college to become a Nurse. I have to give her credit - I could never do her job. However, her teachers were horrible. During the latter half of her course, they were to spend a number of days a week on site at a hospital, doing the rounds of a regular nurse, with the assistance and guidance of the nurses on staff. The teachers of her course had already driven out a number of students from the course via their predjudice of some, and trying their best to find the akilie's heel of the others. And one of the teachers thought she found my Mom's. While every other student went on 3 week rounds of different departments, my Mom was stuck on 4 months straight of working on the 4th floor of the Laurentian Hospital - the palative care unit. Where my Dad passed away, not even a year ago. And to make it even more horrible, this same teacher ensured my Mom was only paired up with patients that had soon-to-be fatal problems.

She made it. I still remember her coming home and doing just what I did last Monday. And who can blame her? But she made it because she was not going to break, not in front of the bitch who was trying her damndest to get her to. Although no one's forcing me to be there, I kind of feel the same way... Like I've got no choice. It's either that or quit, and let's face it. If I could afford to do so, dontcha think I would have?

*Sigh* I am a strong woman. Just like my Mom. If not stronger in some areas (just ask her, she'll agree). But damn, it's trying right now.

Looking For My Escape Route

I should have known that everything was too good to be true. My job as Work Center Coordinator was no where near as stressful as was my job as a Technical Trainer. The person I reported to was helpful, not a useless twit. There was the opportunity to work from home via secure remote access which I had already set up. I was finally getting into my groove. And yet, I should have realized that it all would get trashed, given my employer's past history.

No, I'm still employed by them. And still making the same money. But now instead of scheduling on site visits for servers, plotters, printers and computer systems, I'm imaging and deploying computers for Capital Health.

One could say that there would be less stress involved in sitting on your ass and imaging a computer (a job that takes about an hour), then wheeling it on a cart to someone's office and installing it than it would be trying to meet SLA's and organize the day of 10 people. And yeah, normally you'd be right. But the downside of this whole thing is that I'm now working out of RAH. The hospital I spent 3 of the worst weeks of my life at.

You know what? I thought I could turn it off. And it worked in some instances. I shut my brain off when I walked past the spot I parked in most of the time when I went to visit Menerva Jr. Turned it off again as I got into the glass elevators in the Active Treatement Center. Did it again when walking through the Woman's Center pedway between two buildings.

I'm shadowing one of your typical young geek males. Bad hair, can't dress himself, has the social capabilities of a doorknob. His only redeeming quality (and that's only cause I'm a geek myself) is that his cell's ring tone is the Doctor Who theme song. But still, Monday was my first day. (I took today off because of doctor's appointments, and am glad for it.) And so, being egar to figure things out (and getting thoroughally pissed off at the inability of this geek to train anyone, however biased my ex-trainer self is), I didn't pay attention to a key set of words when he asked if I wanted to tag along for a system deploy at the Bear Lounge. I said sure, and followed along.

The Information Systems department is located at one end of the properity. And where we had to go was all the way at the other end, in the Active Treatment Center. And as we walked there, in my head all I was thinking was "don't go to that building, don't go to that building." And then, "shit, we're in that building." Get in the glass elevators. "Don't get off on the 5th floor, don't go to the 5th floor."

"Shit. Alright then, go straight, gooooooo straight."

"Shit!"

5th floor of the Active Treatment Center is the Neonatial Intensive Care Unit, among other units, but takes up the grand majority of the floor space. And then it hit me. Bear Lounge... One of the radio stations out here, The Bear, has sponsored a family room just outside of the NICU. I spent a lot of time in that room...

So when the guy I was shadowing pondered aloud where was this place, I pointed over my shoulder to the room beside the vending machine. Inside we went, and I couldn't hold it. And it didn't help that inside that room, I met up with a girl I knew from Dell, who was there because she had just given birth to her son that Saturday at 30 weeks. The tears came... I managed to stop them in a few moments, but the seal was broken.

When I got home, the first thing I did was go up to bed, curl up, and bawled. So I can't turn it off... I was naive to think I could. And while I could probably desensitize myself to the surroundings, I don't know if I really want to deal with this right now. Being pregnant as is is bringing enough painful memories of losing Menerva Jr, like I need to be reminded of it further.

Mad World

Profile of this blogger:

Social Life:

• I was a loner throughout school.
• I was picked on and teased horribly throughout grade school, and ignored completely in high school.
• I had few friends. To this day, I still don't have a huge social circle.

Violence:

• I played violent video games as early as the age of 7. I still play violent video games.
• I watched a number of violent movies and TV shows from my youth to present day.
• I beat up my sister on a fairly regular basis as a child.
• I got beat up in grade school, and fought right back.

Subculture:

• I was a goth in high school.
• I listened to Marilyn Manson. Still do.
• I did drugs as a teenager.
• I was/am a computer geek.
• I was a Wiccan. Still follow much of it today.

Weapons Access:

• I knew where my Dad kept his hunting rifles and the bullets for them.
• At 16, I could purchase large knives from various stores. And I had, either as decoration or in the case of one I got Gunther, for hiking.
• I own a number of swords, knives, daggers, etc.
• I know where I can buy firearms, and have the room on my visa for them.

Well damn, by this account, I should be high on the list to kill loads of people!

When will society learn that you can't label people based on what color clothes they wear, what music they listen to, etc? If such is the case, I know more people who would be potential mass murderers than not. Such categorization is just an attempt to turn the world into a bastardisied version of The Minority Report. Put the "problem kids" away before they commit a crime. Quasi-scientific precogs.

But the Virginia Tech shootings can't be marked as the crimes committed by a guy who got picked on in school. Very rarely can one thing in a person's life affect them so greatly. In my opinion, the ball was dropped a million of times by loads of people who honestly, deserve no blame in the make up of this guy and the events which lead to the murders this past Monday. The blame lies squarely on Cho, and even I can't say he's 100% to blame either.

Let me explain.

Life sucks, we all know that. Certain events or circumstances in our past shape us into who we are today. It's like all those sci-fi books and movies that go on about how changing one minute in the past can greatly affect the future. Every nasty part of my youth - getting picked on, abusive boyfriends, mistreatment by friends, etc. - has made me who I am now, both positive and negative. This in turn will affect how I raise my children. This in turn, as well as life experiences, will affect how they raise their own children. And so on down the line.

However, there are events in everyone's past that affect them negatively. I have very limited trust in people, even family, thanks to events that have happened. The deaths of my Father and Menerva Jr. have given me a great mistrust in the medical community. Past employment has proven to me (even if it is a cruel realization) that hard work means nothing and asskissing is everything. I've learned that the only constant in your life is yourself and your kids, everyone else can be left behind if it means survival. And yeah, this isn't nice. For these reasons and more I've been told I'm a horrible person and you know what? That just goes to prove even further to me that people in general can't be trusted. That event reinforces my truth.

We all have our own personal truths. Things that to us cannot be disproven. Things that have been proven to us over the course of our lives. For example, it's a proven truth to me that my Mother loves me. It is a proven truth that my Dad loved me while he was alive. It's a proven truth that the sky is blue. That I hate raisins. That my current neighbors are insane. Etc. But it is also a proven truth to me that the human race is flawed, and many will never admit it. This is where one of my truths lie - that no one understands humanity.

This is where the current state of mental illness and its horrible and inaccurate diagnosis comes into play. Let's take Post Partum Depression as an example, shall we? It appears to be a widely held belief that new Mothers should be the happiest people on earth. They've got a brand new baby, someone they've been waiting 9 months to meet, and that their lives are complete by caring for them. Yet people will instantly downplay any sign of PPD, saying it's just an adjustment thing, or that something must be horribly wrong with the Mother if she's not completely ecstatic. Aside from the joys of meeting that person who's been kicking you and making you crave olives and peanut butter, let's look at what happens to a Mother and her life when a baby is born.

• Hormones change drastically.
• Recovery from delivery be it vaginal or c-section.
• Insufficient sleep.
• Many times, multiple doctors’ visits for any complications after giving birth or any ailment the child may have.
• Many times, the support network the woman had prior to becoming pregnant leaves. And those that remain after giving birth diminish as well.
• Advice coming from every direction, solicited and not, and many times given in a fashion that makes it sound like the Mother doesn't know what she's doing.

Add to that if the Mother or child has any condition that could affect their lives, how helpful her partner is (if present or not), financial situations, etc, and yeah, the live of a new Mother isn't not all peaches and cream. Yet numerous people can't fathom why a woman would become depressed, even if the hormone imbalance is not enough of a biological factor for its onset.

And that's just one of the more common beliefs I've run into. Any time there's a mental illness mentioned, it's almost as if people shudder, like the thought of being delusional, bi-polar, schizophrenic, etc, is just too much to bear. But I'd like to think that there are probably more people today with some form of mental illness, be it inherited or developed, than society would like to believe.

And I believe Cho was one of them. Yes, it has already been stated that they believed he had a mental illness. And given the circumstances, they couldn't fully diagnose or treat it. But there you have it. Was it caused by video games? I doubt it. It has about as much of a likelihood as if he was forced to eat peas on a Sunday in November at the age of 4. Yet had he been treated early on, perhaps (and this is just speculation) things would have been completely different, thus changing the entire future.

My point with all of this is that people don't like to talk about, deal with, or admit to any form of mental distress. Most don't even know they have any. I know in my own form (severe depression); I just thought my down and out mood was normal. Seemed almost par for the course. I mean, I lost my Dad when he was very young, my Daughter to something completely preventable had the medical community listened to my requests early on, my cousin to a drunk driver, my Grandmother to suicide, my Mother In Law to a preventable cancer, a friend's Mother to a annorisim, my marriage nearly dissolved in the middle of it, I was living 3000 kilometers away from the family I loved, and caring for a toddler while working full time proved to be stressful. Yeah, I figured the drop of a hat crying was to be expected. That the thoughts of causing harm to myself normal. The desire to spend my day in bed and not face the world common. But at least I realized they weren't normal. Took a while. Thought I could snap out of it if life would quit killing off loved ones and throwing roadblocks in my way. If I could just have a few good, quiet months, I'd be better. Yet that didn't work. And now, on treatment, I'm feeling loads better. I'm one of the lucky ones if you ask me. Because I know loads of people who are in the same funk I was who don't believe anything's wrong and won't hear such words from anyone else.

I think that was Cho's problem. He didn't believe anything was wrong. And no one wanted to admit that there could be a problem. Does that mean he and everyone in his life is to blame? I don't think so...

Because those are their own truths. And society has yet to disprove to the masses that mental illness is not something to be ashamed of.

Boogers

Tis the season for spring time colds... It started with Gunther Jr. He came home from daycare one day with a runny nose. The next day there was a cough. And then it went from there. More snot, more coughing, and then the realization from him. "I'm sick." All because Daddy didn't want him to go outside without wearing a warm outfit and a coat on. So, he became clingy, mopey, and quiet... That lasted for a day and a half. Now there's still boogers. Still coughing. And he still knows he's sick. But it's more fun to be a rampaging snot monster than a boy who curls up on the couch to watch cartoons and play with his puzzles.

Then, as nature would have it, Gunther got Jr's cold. I swear, that man is the healthiest sick person I know. He takes his vitamins, eats his veggies, and still, if someone sneezes within a 50 mile radius of him, he'll catch whatever's going around. So now both my boys (Gunther isn't overly fond of it when I say that) are sick. At least my husband isn't being a rampaging snot monster...

I guess it's a damned good thing I have a strong stomach. Between the two of them in the past few days alone, I could probably paste wallpaper across the house with the guck they've produced. And there's nothing that tests your gag reflex like a 3 foot toddler with a gooey string of stuff connecting from his nose to the floor.

If anything though, the positive is that now I have an exucse to make a big batch of soup.

Belief vs fact

If age has given me any trait worth noticing, it's skepticism. I take nothing at face value, and honestly, why would I? What separates fact and opinion in this day and age is beliefs. For example, it has been "proven" that male circumcision can prevent the spread of AIDS, albeit marginally. One would figure that there would be a multitude of alternatives that could be taken instead of lobbing off the male equivalent (even if it's lesser) to the female clitoris. The male foreskin is home to a plethora of nerve endings, protects the head of the penis, and prevents desensitization. People can argue based on cleanliness (since when have guys had a hard time washing their naughty bits?). People can argue based on "moral" reasons (one of the original arguments towards circumcision was to prevent boys from masturbating). People can even argue based on religious reasons (those are just too weird and vast to comment about). But now an Edmonton group is trying to pressure parents of boys to circumcise their kids as to prevent the spread of AIDS, claiming that Canadians today are too uptight to discuss safer sex and that this is the best alternative.

These same Canadians who should circumcise their male children because we're too uptight to discuss safer sex are being told to not vaccinate our girls against HPV because that may teach promiscuity...

My belief? I ain't chopping anything off my son's wiener to provide a slightly lesser chance at him contracting from someone or infecting someone with AIDS. Why? Well, first off, if I find that he ever has unprotected sex outside of a long time monogamous relationship with someone he trusts very much, his foreskin is not all I'll chop off. I am not an uptight parent, if that hasn't been proven in this post alone. Gunther Jr. will be well aware of safer sex options. I will not sit there and blush and tell him that when he's older he'll want to stick his peepee into a girl's woohoo through fits of giggles. But at the same time I will not tell him that just because he knows all about the birds and the bees that he should go out and practice.

And if the bun turns out to be a girl? By all means I will have her vaccinated against HPV. I'm sure this is TMI, but I come from a long line of women who have had "abnormal" cervical cells. I've gone through the bullshit that's involved with having nasty pap smears and skin biopsies and all that painful and embarrassing crap. I may not be able to prevent her from inheriting these "abnormal" cells (I quote them cause they can't find them in advanced tests for me, but for some reason show up on routine pap smears), but if I can prevent her from going through any sort of cervical cancer scare, then by all means, I'll even pay for it out of pocket. She will get the same education as Gunther Jr. will about safer sex. I won't skip her because I don't want to teach her to be permicious. I'll teach her BECAUSE I don't want her to be permicious.

Are we still stuck in a society that believes its fine for males to be aware of their sexuality but shun females from even giving a proper name to their parts? Maybe I'm living outside of this realm. Perhaps because I'm working in a male dominated field, I've become too "male" in that regard. Nah... It's because I hate not being provided information when I want it. I was well aware of the fact that grade school "sex ed" was essentially biology without censorship. There was no education on sex per se. It was all biological. Sperm fertilized eggs, made babies. Sperm came from boys, eggs from girls. But if one were to go based on the education that your average school kid got, they would have no clue how sperm met egg until high school. And still, that would be stuff learned from others in gym class. Penetration was never discussed. The purpose of specific parts were never touched upon. And this is something I argued about in school. Oddly enough, so did a male friend of mine. And he was answered, where as I was labeled a slut.

I would have thought all these years would have changed this... But apparently not. And considering I live in the Canadian equivalent of the Bible Belt (so I guess that makes this the Bible Armpit), I'm not too sure that the education that will be provided to my children will be any more forward thinking than that it was back in the 80's. Guess it's up to me.

At least my kids have a Mom that isn't one of those "typical" Canadians depicted by media who wish to prevent the spread of AIDS via skin removal than education. Or who would prefer my daughter to stay "pure" by not putting the idea in her head that she has free reign to sleep with whoever because she's protected from an STD that affects millions of women, permicious or not.

Here's hoping that my kids don't have the same trouble with their children and society in the future.

Survival and Fatigue

Today was the first official day of me doing the job that I was hired to do... Did I survive? Yep. Did everyone else? So far. Did I do it flawlessly? BWAHAHAHAHAHA! No. But if they expected perfection day one, particuarly after the piss poor training I recieved, then they're idiots. And lets face it, if anyone in the Edmonton office knows anything about training, its me.

So, the rest of this week should be fun. Note the puddle of sarcasm under that sentence.

In other news, I'm tired as hell. Sure, one can say that's to be expected when pregnant, but damnit, this is excessive. This past Saturday I slept 12 hours (how nice of Gunther to let me sleep in, love him for that), then a few hours later, I took a nap when Gunther Jr. did. And I could have cheerfully slept longer.

When Gunther Jr. was born, my family doctor back in Sudbury thought I was having a bit of a hyperthyroidism problem. I couldn't sleep, I was jittery and tense, and (although I'm not complaining at all) I was losing weight just sitting there. And it appeared to be linked to breastfeeding. The less I breastfed Gunther Jr., the less the symptoms. And when I stopped alltogether, I went to what most would consider a new mother to be like - tired as all heck, iritable at times, and really wanting to sleep whenever she could. And this is the state I've been in for the past three years.

Then, when I was talking to my Mom this weekend, it turns out my sister (we'll call her K, or Auntie K when in reference to her favorite nephew) had just been diagnosed with hypothyroidism. An underactive thyroid... And had the exact same symptoms I'm suffering from, and no pregnancy to blame it on.

So, sometime this week I get to get blood work done to determine if that's a possibility... Yay, more needles stuck in me. Like being pregnant doesn't get me enough of those. While I don't like the idea of taking yet more pills but it would be absolutely wonderful to have this endless fatigue explained.

...and now, off to sleep.