A lot of things have been going on as of late. The hospital census has gone through the roof and the average length of stay for each patient is about 1.5 days. Which means I am constantly doing discharges, getting admissions, and basically chasing my tail at work. Still enjoying my job and my coworkers, but I have found that when I am home I really need to try not to think about work so much. (as my abused patient entry can attest)
On a personal note, something else has been happening. One of my best friends is currently battling Acute Myeloid Leukemia.She was my first friend growing up and we attended school k-12 together. We were in each other's weddings. We were pregnant together. Our children played together. She had some flu like symptoms a month ago and they found the leukemia. She went on to lose her eyesight, develop brain lesions, a fungal infection, becoming septic, then go on a vent. (which she is off of thank God). She's geographically very far away from me right now and it's really REALLY hard for me to wrap my brain around what's happening with her. This is NOT how it's supposed to be. She's such a beautiful, amazingly talented, incredibly compassionate person. We are not even 40! This is not how it's supposed to be.
I don't have very many readers but can I just ask you to please consider getting registered on the bone marrow registry? http://marrow.org/Home.aspx All you have to do is answer some health questions and they will mail you a cheek swab kit with a SASE in a few weeks after submitting the swab, you will get a registry card.
Thanks for reading. ♥
Tuesday, July 31, 2012
Friday, July 6, 2012
He's walking!!!!!!
Remember a few months ago when I blogged about facebook stalking my patients to see how they are doing? ( http://codebabe.blogspot.com/2012/04/yeah-i-admit-it-i-facebook-stalk-some.html)
He's walking!!! It sounds like he will be able to return to work in August!! ♥
That's all I have for now, just had to share that. :)
He's walking!!! It sounds like he will be able to return to work in August!! ♥
That's all I have for now, just had to share that. :)
Monday, June 18, 2012
Dear Abusive Sack of Shit,
The world does not revolve around you and the way you think things should be. You aren't the genius you think you are: you are nothing more than a bully and a coward with a narrow view of the world. You look for women who have a history of being abused and you latch onto them and their vulnerabilities like a vulture. In most cases, you chose to be like your father because in your eyes, he was powerful, and he couldn't be hurt. You learned to secretly hate your mother for her being so weak. You can be an ex con, a chiropractor, a lawyer, a teacher. No matter what your day job, you are a fucking monster behind closed doors. For those of you that don't raise a hand to her so you don't think that's abusive: you're an asshole, too. You don't fuck with someone's self esteem and berate them and criticize everything they do and get away with thinking it's okay because you didn't physically damage her. You hate yourself and you take it out on those closest to you. Understandable how you hate yourself, you are a disgusting piece of shit.
You teach your daughters to take abuse. You teach your sons that's how to treat a woman. The repercussions of your fucked up logic and egocentrism laced with self loathing and paranoid accusations over the most ridiculous minutiae make you look like an even bigger fool than you already are.
Just know this, big man:
Every time you hit her, not only her fear but her hatred grows. She becomes used to your torment, desensitized to your abuse. Your constant picking and insulting and demeaning and control and domination is building a fortress within her. Because you see, there's a part of her you can't touch, and that's her spirit. She may feel trapped by you (by no mistake on your part), but eventually, there's always that possibility that going to prison won't seem like so bad of an option. Maybe it will feel even more like a vacation. And it WOULD be a vacation, because prisoners have more rights than she does living with a miserable son of a bitch like yourself.
I remember a patient I had in clinicals for nursing school. Sweet woman in her 60s in for gall bladder removal surgery. Sat with her and talked with her for a while and she shared with me that her husband passed away due to diabetes complications just last year. I said, "Oh I'm so sorry" She said "Don't be. He used to beat me, I hope he rots in hell." Then she smiled so brightly. :)
Is that the type of way you want to be remembered? Is that the payoff you seek? If so, keep on with your bad self.
If you are reading this and you see the tiniest bit of yourself in this, do everyone on this earth a favor and get counseling, get castrated and for the love of all that is holy, stay the hell out of relationships of any kind until whatever the hell screw you have loose is fixed. I'm tired of caring for bones you've broken and drying the tears of your victims.
(In case any of you ever wondered why I'm not a psych nurse? This is exactly why.)
You teach your daughters to take abuse. You teach your sons that's how to treat a woman. The repercussions of your fucked up logic and egocentrism laced with self loathing and paranoid accusations over the most ridiculous minutiae make you look like an even bigger fool than you already are.
Just know this, big man:
Every time you hit her, not only her fear but her hatred grows. She becomes used to your torment, desensitized to your abuse. Your constant picking and insulting and demeaning and control and domination is building a fortress within her. Because you see, there's a part of her you can't touch, and that's her spirit. She may feel trapped by you (by no mistake on your part), but eventually, there's always that possibility that going to prison won't seem like so bad of an option. Maybe it will feel even more like a vacation. And it WOULD be a vacation, because prisoners have more rights than she does living with a miserable son of a bitch like yourself.
I remember a patient I had in clinicals for nursing school. Sweet woman in her 60s in for gall bladder removal surgery. Sat with her and talked with her for a while and she shared with me that her husband passed away due to diabetes complications just last year. I said, "Oh I'm so sorry" She said "Don't be. He used to beat me, I hope he rots in hell." Then she smiled so brightly. :)
Is that the type of way you want to be remembered? Is that the payoff you seek? If so, keep on with your bad self.
If you are reading this and you see the tiniest bit of yourself in this, do everyone on this earth a favor and get counseling, get castrated and for the love of all that is holy, stay the hell out of relationships of any kind until whatever the hell screw you have loose is fixed. I'm tired of caring for bones you've broken and drying the tears of your victims.
(In case any of you ever wondered why I'm not a psych nurse? This is exactly why.)
Friday, June 1, 2012
How I became a nurse after exactly 1 day of clinicals.
I was in my first semester of nursing school. We were on the oncology floor and we were allowed to "pick" the patients we wanted to research, assess and care for. I worked on the floor below that one (the cardiac floor) as an aide, so I had some semblance of familiarity with the hospital. Thanks to that, I was not particularly timid about answering call bells or checking sugars or whatever the RNs needed. The RNs were in report and I asked them if there was a patient they felt needed a little extra TLC for the day. (I chose that approach over "ooh do you have anybody GOOD" with 'good' meaning multiple system failure and tons of meds and labs to learn from) I suppose even from the beginning I've been much more patient focused rather than disease focused. The nurses looked knowingly at one another and said, "Well.. there is one.. but.. this is your very first semester and your first clinical?" I steadily looked at them and said, "Whatever it is, I can handle it.."
And with that, I had my very first nursing student assignment. A tiny little woman with inflammatory breast cancer. Her left breast was the size of a football. She was admitted a few hours prior. She was incredibly sweet, a little confused, and extremely anxious. Her younger brother was in the room with her. He's lived with her and cared for her for years. He was a little backward, but very nice. He told me she doesn't like Drs or hospitals, and that last month she told him she thought she felt a lump in her breast when she was in the tub. Since he's her brother, he felt awkward asking to see it, but he told her maybe a Dr should look at it. She said "no no no! If a Dr. sees it he will tell me I'm dying!". The brother didn't push, and she bathed only twice weekly and kept quiet about her breast after that for a few weeks. Then the day before her admission to the hospital he asked her about the lump and she started to cry and showed it to him. He called for an ambulance.
Drs came in and spoke with her, wrote for dry dressings to go over the wounds on her breast. She needed dry sterile dressings loosely applied with no tape. Why? Her breast was spotted with black necrotic tissue due to her paper thin skin being unable to stretch with the rapidly growing tumor and the skin split opened and subsequently became seriously infected. (according to the Dr's estimation, the tumor grew from a golf ball to a football size in 4 weeks).
The RN for this little lady gladly gave the reigns to me in caring for this woman after seeing me interact with her..the patient responded very well to me and trusted me completely- much moreso than any of the other professionals who came into the room.
I provided am care (washed her, applied lotions, etc). And then attempted to dress her wounds on her diseased breast. She looked down and really looked at her chest.. and started to hyperventilate. I told her to look at me... I put my hand on her arm. "We are going to cover that up and give you medicine to feel better, okay? Deep breath..relax. I'm with you." There was no way that gauze was staying on her without tape, but I didn't want to tear her skin. So I had an idea... I called the maternity floor and had them tube me those mesh panties they give to new moms.. I slid her swollen breast through one of the leg holes of the mesh panties and slid the dressing underneath. Then I buttoned up her gown.
My instructor came into the room with the RN to admire my handiwork. Not long after, the hospice case worker and the Dr. arrived to break the news to her and her brother. She had about a week left, if that.
The news should not have hit me like it did, it shouldn't have surprised me. Luckily, I was out in the hallway when I heard it (and not in the patient's room). I briskly walked around the corner to the nurse's station. Everything became blurry, my throat tightened. Deep breaths.. deep breaths.. A question entered my left ear "Are you okay?" it was one of my classmates. I answered shakily, "She's on hospice.. she's going to die.." And she hugged me. The RN and my instructor walked over. "Do you need to talk?" I answered, "Not now.. I need to be there for her. I can process all this later." I went into her room and sat with her and her brother.
I held both their hands and talked to them about the inpatient hospice facility she would be going to. How beautiful it is, how great the staff are, etc. I printed out a bus schedule for her brother and told him he can sleep at the facility to be with her if he wants. He liked that.
About 2 hours later, the transport team arrived to transfer her to inpatient hospice. I hugged her and said my goodbyes. I hugged her brother and told him, "Just be with her. You don't have to tell her any magic words, there aren't any. You are giving her the greatest gift a person can give by keeping her from being alone."
I cried heavily the moment the elevator doors closed, her little hand lifting from the stretcher in a final wave of goodbye.
I turned to one of the nurses who debated on whether or not to give her to me and I said, "Maybe I couldn't handle it after all..." She put her hand on my back and she said, "You handled it like you've been a nurse your whole life. Welcome to the profession."
And with that, I had my very first nursing student assignment. A tiny little woman with inflammatory breast cancer. Her left breast was the size of a football. She was admitted a few hours prior. She was incredibly sweet, a little confused, and extremely anxious. Her younger brother was in the room with her. He's lived with her and cared for her for years. He was a little backward, but very nice. He told me she doesn't like Drs or hospitals, and that last month she told him she thought she felt a lump in her breast when she was in the tub. Since he's her brother, he felt awkward asking to see it, but he told her maybe a Dr should look at it. She said "no no no! If a Dr. sees it he will tell me I'm dying!". The brother didn't push, and she bathed only twice weekly and kept quiet about her breast after that for a few weeks. Then the day before her admission to the hospital he asked her about the lump and she started to cry and showed it to him. He called for an ambulance.
Drs came in and spoke with her, wrote for dry dressings to go over the wounds on her breast. She needed dry sterile dressings loosely applied with no tape. Why? Her breast was spotted with black necrotic tissue due to her paper thin skin being unable to stretch with the rapidly growing tumor and the skin split opened and subsequently became seriously infected. (according to the Dr's estimation, the tumor grew from a golf ball to a football size in 4 weeks).
The RN for this little lady gladly gave the reigns to me in caring for this woman after seeing me interact with her..the patient responded very well to me and trusted me completely- much moreso than any of the other professionals who came into the room.
I provided am care (washed her, applied lotions, etc). And then attempted to dress her wounds on her diseased breast. She looked down and really looked at her chest.. and started to hyperventilate. I told her to look at me... I put my hand on her arm. "We are going to cover that up and give you medicine to feel better, okay? Deep breath..relax. I'm with you." There was no way that gauze was staying on her without tape, but I didn't want to tear her skin. So I had an idea... I called the maternity floor and had them tube me those mesh panties they give to new moms.. I slid her swollen breast through one of the leg holes of the mesh panties and slid the dressing underneath. Then I buttoned up her gown.
My instructor came into the room with the RN to admire my handiwork. Not long after, the hospice case worker and the Dr. arrived to break the news to her and her brother. She had about a week left, if that.
The news should not have hit me like it did, it shouldn't have surprised me. Luckily, I was out in the hallway when I heard it (and not in the patient's room). I briskly walked around the corner to the nurse's station. Everything became blurry, my throat tightened. Deep breaths.. deep breaths.. A question entered my left ear "Are you okay?" it was one of my classmates. I answered shakily, "She's on hospice.. she's going to die.." And she hugged me. The RN and my instructor walked over. "Do you need to talk?" I answered, "Not now.. I need to be there for her. I can process all this later." I went into her room and sat with her and her brother.
I held both their hands and talked to them about the inpatient hospice facility she would be going to. How beautiful it is, how great the staff are, etc. I printed out a bus schedule for her brother and told him he can sleep at the facility to be with her if he wants. He liked that.
About 2 hours later, the transport team arrived to transfer her to inpatient hospice. I hugged her and said my goodbyes. I hugged her brother and told him, "Just be with her. You don't have to tell her any magic words, there aren't any. You are giving her the greatest gift a person can give by keeping her from being alone."
I cried heavily the moment the elevator doors closed, her little hand lifting from the stretcher in a final wave of goodbye.
I turned to one of the nurses who debated on whether or not to give her to me and I said, "Maybe I couldn't handle it after all..." She put her hand on my back and she said, "You handled it like you've been a nurse your whole life. Welcome to the profession."
Wednesday, May 30, 2012
Getting MRSA from The Hopper
My little lady patient was about 93 lbs-- and 93 years old. Tiny little thing, and cute as hell. She was very pleasantly confused and ate like nobody's business. When I got report the offgoing RN told me "I made her toast with jelly and coffee, she was wide awake at 5 am complaining about how no one feeds her in this place!"
it was 7:05am when I walked into her room and she said, "When is breakfast, I'm starving!!" I reminded her she had some toast already but "if she wants, I can call for her real breakfast". Called for her, peeked in her chart and see Dr. progress notes "failure to thrive", "BMI 17.2", "decreased appetite" hmmm.. something is not jiving. This woman appears to eat very well while here, so not a typical failure to thrive case at all. Also, she had a non healing lower leg ulcer, so the Drs were thinking i wasn't healing because she wasn't eating enough (plus her BMI is low).
I scroll though charted Is and Os.. every meal for 4 days 100% eaten. Interesting.
I talked to her and asked her what she eats at home. (she lives with her son) Then she told me all about how money is tight, she doesn't get a lot to eat at home, etc. etc. (And I think, "I have seen this before." ) A little while later the son came in. I spoke with him for a bit about her wound culture that's positive for MRSA and what is means for him. (frequent handwashing, wearing a protective gown, etc etc) I gave him educational materials on it, too. He was very freaked out by the MRSA, it took a lot to calm him down about it. Then I stressed the importance of nutrition for her wounds to heal. He said he understood and that money is very tight and it's hard to pay for her medicine and food. (he was very thin too) At that point I asked case management to provide a list of resources to him to help him pay for food and medicine. So many people deal with those very issues, it is heartbreaking. Worse still, you practically require a degree just to figure out how to navigate the systems just to apply for assistance. Every organization has their own way of doing things.. totally frickin nuts. And frustrating.
Anyway, a little while later, my little lady asked me when I was going to have lunch. I said oh in a little bit. And she said, "will you come in here and eat with me? It's so lonely here eating all by myself.." awwww!! I really really wish I could have had lunch in her room with her, she asked SO sweetly.. but can you just IMAGINE if an infectious disease doc had happened by and saw THAT?? Or the State Dept of Health??? lol I told her I would do my computer work in there with her and keep her company while she ate, though. So THEN didn't she take a bite out of her grilled cheese and start saying "have a bite! It's really good! I want you to have some!" and began trying to shove it in my face.. okay.. here's the thing.. I wouldn't take a bite out of a sandwich my own husband or children took a bite out of.. and here's this (albeit adorable) woman with MRSA asking me to take a bite. OH HAIL NO! LOL!! She was way cute, though and I felt badly turning her down, but even I have my limits. haha!!
Then the little peanut started talking about her infection "I don't know where I might have picked it up. I don't go much of anywhere and I don't even use public hoppers!" (hopper=toilets in case you didn't know) So I explained "germs are everywhere, even the grocery store. As we get older it's just easier for us to get sick from them.." I thought I explained it pretty well but she was hard of hearing and confused so everyone up and down the hall and everyone in the physician charting area heard me yelling, "Germs aren't always from the hopper! You can get them from touching a grocery cart handle or even from touching the mailbox!!" I must have said the same thing about 10 different ways and each time I got louder and louder.
She answered with, "When are you gonna eat? You've been in here for 45 minutes! No wonder you're so skinny!" I asked her if she's sick of me yet? And she said "YES! Eat your lunch!" and got a devilish little grin.
I removed my contact precaution gown, then my gloves and rolled them up and put them into the garbage and proceeded to step outside the room and announce to fellow employees and family members of neighboring rooms alike within earshot, "I am going to have some lunch. Then I am going to use THE HOPPER."
it was 7:05am when I walked into her room and she said, "When is breakfast, I'm starving!!" I reminded her she had some toast already but "if she wants, I can call for her real breakfast". Called for her, peeked in her chart and see Dr. progress notes "failure to thrive", "BMI 17.2", "decreased appetite" hmmm.. something is not jiving. This woman appears to eat very well while here, so not a typical failure to thrive case at all. Also, she had a non healing lower leg ulcer, so the Drs were thinking i wasn't healing because she wasn't eating enough (plus her BMI is low).
I scroll though charted Is and Os.. every meal for 4 days 100% eaten. Interesting.
I talked to her and asked her what she eats at home. (she lives with her son) Then she told me all about how money is tight, she doesn't get a lot to eat at home, etc. etc. (And I think, "I have seen this before." ) A little while later the son came in. I spoke with him for a bit about her wound culture that's positive for MRSA and what is means for him. (frequent handwashing, wearing a protective gown, etc etc) I gave him educational materials on it, too. He was very freaked out by the MRSA, it took a lot to calm him down about it. Then I stressed the importance of nutrition for her wounds to heal. He said he understood and that money is very tight and it's hard to pay for her medicine and food. (he was very thin too) At that point I asked case management to provide a list of resources to him to help him pay for food and medicine. So many people deal with those very issues, it is heartbreaking. Worse still, you practically require a degree just to figure out how to navigate the systems just to apply for assistance. Every organization has their own way of doing things.. totally frickin nuts. And frustrating.
Anyway, a little while later, my little lady asked me when I was going to have lunch. I said oh in a little bit. And she said, "will you come in here and eat with me? It's so lonely here eating all by myself.." awwww!! I really really wish I could have had lunch in her room with her, she asked SO sweetly.. but can you just IMAGINE if an infectious disease doc had happened by and saw THAT?? Or the State Dept of Health??? lol I told her I would do my computer work in there with her and keep her company while she ate, though. So THEN didn't she take a bite out of her grilled cheese and start saying "have a bite! It's really good! I want you to have some!" and began trying to shove it in my face.. okay.. here's the thing.. I wouldn't take a bite out of a sandwich my own husband or children took a bite out of.. and here's this (albeit adorable) woman with MRSA asking me to take a bite. OH HAIL NO! LOL!! She was way cute, though and I felt badly turning her down, but even I have my limits. haha!!
Then the little peanut started talking about her infection "I don't know where I might have picked it up. I don't go much of anywhere and I don't even use public hoppers!" (hopper=toilets in case you didn't know) So I explained "germs are everywhere, even the grocery store. As we get older it's just easier for us to get sick from them.." I thought I explained it pretty well but she was hard of hearing and confused so everyone up and down the hall and everyone in the physician charting area heard me yelling, "Germs aren't always from the hopper! You can get them from touching a grocery cart handle or even from touching the mailbox!!" I must have said the same thing about 10 different ways and each time I got louder and louder.
She answered with, "When are you gonna eat? You've been in here for 45 minutes! No wonder you're so skinny!" I asked her if she's sick of me yet? And she said "YES! Eat your lunch!" and got a devilish little grin.
I removed my contact precaution gown, then my gloves and rolled them up and put them into the garbage and proceeded to step outside the room and announce to fellow employees and family members of neighboring rooms alike within earshot, "I am going to have some lunch. Then I am going to use THE HOPPER."
Friday, May 18, 2012
On Bonanza and Ramadan
The nursing school class I was in was quite a cast of characters. Most of the people in it were in their 30s and 40s (one of them was a higher up HR exec at an international company and 62.. he wanted to be a nurse after he retires. He's probably one of my favorite people on this earth. He embodies the saying "young at heart").
Another one of my favorite classmates from nursing school was Wendy (not her actual name). She wore traditional Muslim garb, worked as an LPN for years in a nursing home (now returning for her RN) and she was funny. as. hell. Never in a mean way, never in an "off" way (I'm sure classmates of mine thought I was a total perv at times with some of the crap I said haha!) but always in a unique, clever way. For example, one day we were sitting around waiting for a non broken VCR to be brought into the class people were saying "who even uses a VCR and more??" Wendy said "I do. We keep it in our basement at home." So we asked the obvious question "What do you watch on it?" She shot back "Bonanza, of course." We seriously almost peed ourselves right there.
The best story about Wendy, however, happened during our clinical rotation to the ER. We were allowed to talk with and assess patients and to add any additional info we may have gleaned to the nursing and/or medical staff. Now, for a little background, the hospital this rotation happened at was called St. ____ ; so when Wendy appeared in the room of a sweet little elderly German-American couple, no one was really sure how they were going to respond to a woman wearing a Muslim headdress and scarf. Surprisingly, things went extremely well, she got in a great history and physical assessment and they were incredibly comfortable with her. As she was gathering her papers and getting ready to walk out the elderly woman said, "I think it's WONDERFUL that St. ____ still hires nuns as nurses! We will tell all our friends to come here!"
Wendy smiled and walked out to see her clinical group practically with tears in our eyes from trying to stifle the laughter. We asked Wendy "Are you going to tell her?" She deadpanned back: "Are you CRAZY?"
Interesting how because of Wendy's sweet personality, warmth, and quick wit, she was perceived as one of "their own" (interestingly, Wendy is also black). If all of us had a positive experience with someone who is different from us, just think how much better the world would be.
I grew up in a small coal town. The first time I ever saw a black person (besides on Sesame street) was on field trips to NYC and such. Finally when I went away to college (the first time out of high school) I became friends with people from all kinds of backgrounds. Never really anyone from the Islamic faith, though.. until I started to work in the auto collision industry. From there I met, who was for me, the embodiment of what a true follower of Islam should be.
He went by "Doc" (he held a PhD in philosophy.) He managed a car rental business inside our office. Every day he went outside with his little mat (don't know what they are called) and he prayed kneeling toward meccah. In front of a bunch of meat and potatoes/rough around the edges techs in the body shop. Doc exuded gentleness and caring to everyone he spoke to in business and as a coworker.
Now, when most people think about "Muslims" they think of terrorists and extremists. I think of Wendy and Doc. What I saw in them made it pretty clear to me that God gives us his "guidelines" for how to live life in many forms; it depends on your particular part of the world/culture as to which one will work the best to help you achieve spiritual awareness/oneness with Him. Once you learn to accept that there's no one RIGHT way to be like God (all loving and forgiving and wise) then you can let go of the need to prove to everyone that you are right and they are wrong and learn to simply be an example to them. Doc and Wendy both proved that very thing to me. They didn't make me want to convert to Islam per se.. but what they did do was show me God has given us MANY paths to him; just as a loving God should. :)
Another one of my favorite classmates from nursing school was Wendy (not her actual name). She wore traditional Muslim garb, worked as an LPN for years in a nursing home (now returning for her RN) and she was funny. as. hell. Never in a mean way, never in an "off" way (I'm sure classmates of mine thought I was a total perv at times with some of the crap I said haha!) but always in a unique, clever way. For example, one day we were sitting around waiting for a non broken VCR to be brought into the class people were saying "who even uses a VCR and more??" Wendy said "I do. We keep it in our basement at home." So we asked the obvious question "What do you watch on it?" She shot back "Bonanza, of course." We seriously almost peed ourselves right there.
The best story about Wendy, however, happened during our clinical rotation to the ER. We were allowed to talk with and assess patients and to add any additional info we may have gleaned to the nursing and/or medical staff. Now, for a little background, the hospital this rotation happened at was called St. ____ ; so when Wendy appeared in the room of a sweet little elderly German-American couple, no one was really sure how they were going to respond to a woman wearing a Muslim headdress and scarf. Surprisingly, things went extremely well, she got in a great history and physical assessment and they were incredibly comfortable with her. As she was gathering her papers and getting ready to walk out the elderly woman said, "I think it's WONDERFUL that St. ____ still hires nuns as nurses! We will tell all our friends to come here!"
Wendy smiled and walked out to see her clinical group practically with tears in our eyes from trying to stifle the laughter. We asked Wendy "Are you going to tell her?" She deadpanned back: "Are you CRAZY?"
Interesting how because of Wendy's sweet personality, warmth, and quick wit, she was perceived as one of "their own" (interestingly, Wendy is also black). If all of us had a positive experience with someone who is different from us, just think how much better the world would be.
I grew up in a small coal town. The first time I ever saw a black person (besides on Sesame street) was on field trips to NYC and such. Finally when I went away to college (the first time out of high school) I became friends with people from all kinds of backgrounds. Never really anyone from the Islamic faith, though.. until I started to work in the auto collision industry. From there I met, who was for me, the embodiment of what a true follower of Islam should be.
He went by "Doc" (he held a PhD in philosophy.) He managed a car rental business inside our office. Every day he went outside with his little mat (don't know what they are called) and he prayed kneeling toward meccah. In front of a bunch of meat and potatoes/rough around the edges techs in the body shop. Doc exuded gentleness and caring to everyone he spoke to in business and as a coworker.
Now, when most people think about "Muslims" they think of terrorists and extremists. I think of Wendy and Doc. What I saw in them made it pretty clear to me that God gives us his "guidelines" for how to live life in many forms; it depends on your particular part of the world/culture as to which one will work the best to help you achieve spiritual awareness/oneness with Him. Once you learn to accept that there's no one RIGHT way to be like God (all loving and forgiving and wise) then you can let go of the need to prove to everyone that you are right and they are wrong and learn to simply be an example to them. Doc and Wendy both proved that very thing to me. They didn't make me want to convert to Islam per se.. but what they did do was show me God has given us MANY paths to him; just as a loving God should. :)
Thursday, May 10, 2012
I hope Rob Zombie likes cocaine
Because I heard my escapee cocaine colon dude win Rob Zombie concert tickets ON THE RADIO a few days ago on a local station. He gave his first name, last initial with his distinct sounding voice AND state the hometown the coke gut was from AND when asked what kind of work he does, he hesitated and said.. "I'm.. unemployed."
yeah, until he sells a few thousand bucks worth of blow that she shot out of his rectum at the Rob Zombie concert.
I seriously couldn't make this shit up if I tried.
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