Changing Fortunes

It was easy to keep interested 

in my working life, 

at least in my passion 

for addictions nursing care. 

But when I retired, 

almost 6 years ago, 

I had only my own life 

to be interested in. 

No schedule, 

no policies or protocols, 

no box on the calendar to say 

what I could do on what day. 

I didn’t have to squeeze in 

outside entertainment 

or family activities 

or even getting groceries. 

I had a choice between crushing boredom 

and some kind of interest in my life 

that had nothing to do with nursing care. 

~ quite an uncomfortable habit. 

I could have kept writing about addictions issues.

~ The neurobiology of addiction

~ Actual protocols for withdrawal management

But the powers that be hadn’t listened to little old me 

so I looked in the mirror and turned my writing to me.

I could still write about neurobiology

But about epilepsy this time.

Interest in my own life appeared 

as if by magic ~ maybe out of boredom 

or perhaps because I have lived with epilepsy 

for more of my life than anything else.

There you have it:

To reword a stanza from the Desiderata: 

~ ‘Keep interested in your own life,

however humble, for it is a real possession 

in the changing fortunes of time’ ~

“Enjoy your achievements as well as your plans. 

Keep interested in your own career, however humble; 

it is a real possession in the changing fortunes of time.”

~ Max Ehrmann

(Written 1927)

Counting Down

At the forefront of my mind has been an upcoming anniversary day. Anyone who knows me, probably is aware of my penchant for marking birthdays and anniversaries. This upcoming anniversary date, for me, is February 16th. One year since I worked my last nursing shift. I really didn’t know what to expect for that day. How would I respond when I admitted patients or discharged patients? Some I had cared for several times over the years were especially poignant. Learning the person buried behind the addiction really does make a difference. I do hope my sadness, as I silently said good-bye to my patients, was not visible. My many colleagues throughout have added such texture to my career and professional life. Most recently, those who were my companions and co-workers while working at VIHA have their own special place in my heart. I think of all of these people, places and things off and on as I go about my days in retirement.

The before picture of retirement was one of an alien, vast, and very dark, landscape. I have watched others slip into this phase easily. For others it was not so easy or comfortable when illness or misfortune shattered plans for these so-called ‘golden years’. I am grateful for activities established over previous years. A walking group, book group and of course my writing practice at home became trusty flashlights, helping me crack open this new book. Even so, empty spaces on my calendar, like vast tracts of space, greeted me each day. Every so often, a ‘work dream’ in my early morning hours remind me of this past that I held so tightly.

The after picture of retirement has been much like a dawning spring, gradually opening my heart. Each day different, but slowly filled with the familiar, with new life, and only a bit of turmoil. Cheers to my colleagues who saw me off with such love and respect. Cheers to my families, far and near, who have welcomed me home and into their homes. Cheers to my circles of friends, also far and near, who have patiently listened to my retirement journey. This ‘land’ I thought that would be so dark, has been filled with frivolous fun, gentle guidance and steady light from everyone.

“The afternoon knows what the morning never suspected.”

~ Robert Frost

With Gratitude

Purposely, for this last nine months, I have limited my contact with the staff I worked with for so many years in Detox. On November 5, one of my colleagues asked if I’d like to attend the staff party. And so I did with gratitude and delight. There have been so many staff changes in the short time since my retirement, but there were enough of my past colleagues present to satisfy my feelings of ‘homesickness’ that pop in every now and then. Some folks that I would have loved to see and visit with, were faithfully working their shifts, missing out on the noisy laughter and friendliness that was definitely a welcome balm to my soul. 

Working in addictions, in Detox and in recovery facilities ~ those fragile, early stages of lifting individuals out of active addiction ~ are not easy jobs. Guiding lives broken and destroyed by the rocky paths and the uncertain marshes of recovery takes its own toll. Yet there are many dedicated groups of people, like the wonderful folks I shared supper with last night, willing to step up and step into this sadly funded fray. Thank you all for keeping up and keeping on.

“You is kind. You is smart. You is important.”

~ Kathryn Stockett, The Help

Slips, Slumps and Standing Up

Slipping into Month #5 of Retirement:

Wondering ~

were all those years a dream?

where did my passion go?

was it all for naught?

Until 

I see memorabilia

spend few moments with colleagues

opine about addictions issues

listen to interviews about health care ~

every day securing my place between then and now.

Until 

A slump slides in wearing slippers

shifting the ground beneath my feet.

‘I don’t know how to engage with people out here!’

Gathering 

my strength of will and my pen

with determination and alacrity,

my sense of purpose, 

hopeful vision and wonder, 

begins to blossom once more.

“It’s exciting not knowing what tomorrow, 

or the next month, or the next year holds.”

~ Lucy Boynton, actress

Only a Hop, Skip and. a Jump - On Skates

All the way to this fall. Am I talking about hockey too soon? Maybe, if it was only a hockey game. I have enjoyed hockey games from minor to major leagues. The cut of blades on ice. The whistle of the referee. The slap of hockey sticks against the boards. But I’ve never been a fan of the muscle that is unleashed on ice in the middle of a game. Helmets off and fists flying.

I’m also not a fan of active addiction, whether to alcohol, prescription drugs or illicit drugs, untreated or poorly managed mental health. Unfortunately, what is unleashed is not only muscle but much more serious and life threatening issues. Families shattered, depression, suicide……..I could go on, but you get the picture.

Last evening I attended the AGM for the Umbrella Society for Addictions and Mental Health. The Umbrella Society is dedicated to longterm housing in recovery homes, as well as supporting recovery from these dreadful conditions. Acceptance, encouragement, paramount for these relapsing conditions, is unconditionally offered to scores of those working towards good health and happiness. While still in my nursing career in detox I had many opportunities to work alongside the many frontline staff from Umbrella in their outreach programs. Each one was and has been dedicated to their clients in their recovery. Retirement has meant that I’ll no longer work with them in that capacity, however gaining membership in the Society last night changes all that for me.

My words are minuscule, compared to the ripples that The Umbrella Society on Addictions and Mental Health has made in this community. They have elevated a community of individuals suffering from their various health conditions, whether addictions or mental health, to communities of healthy individuals that live, work and play with clarity and sobriety. These journeys are long and arduous. Yet the Umbrella Society has continued to believe in these folks who have not felt belief from themselves or anyone else for a very long time.

On that note: Come to a Charity Hockey Game in October! The Boston Bruins against the Greater Victoria Firefighters. I’m not a huge fan of hockey, even though I was born, raised and live in Canada. I am definitely a fan of The Umbrella Society for Addictions and Mental Health.

“Everyone has inside of him a piece of good news. The good news is 

that you don’t know how great you can be! How much you can love? 

What you can accomplish! And what your potential is!”

~ Anne Frank

Inspired

Inspiration for any form of writing comes from curiosity, imagination, memories, experiences, emotion and lots of elbow grease. All mixed and blended, or maybe tossed and turned, characters and story step forward from other lives. Aside from the many other forms of writing, this blog entry is about a particular story I wrote in June of 2007. Three events over the last twenty four hours gave me the inspiration for this morning's blog post. None had little significance at the time, but in combination for my writing life, of great significance. The first was when I read a relatively short story I had written in 2007 while clearing the clutter of an old journal. The next event, a very humorous YouTube interview with Neil Gaiman, a prolific author of fantasy and sci-fi for novels, comics and movies. In a Q & A, he was asked where inspiration came from and did provide the answer that really, there is no answer. The third occurrence for me, more of a recognition than an event, was the realization that my journalling, while in the past allowed me to write little stories and musings, had returned to little more than the proverbial ‘brain dump’. Not really very inspired! In that journal entry, I did muse on the inspiration for a story I had just penned, suggesting to myself that it was ‘probably the pair of boots I saw last night'.  I slept on all of it to waken this morning with the concept for this post, including my story. Edited and newly titled, here is Scuffed and Worn:

Scuffed and Worn

The tall black leather boots with once shiny silver buckles up the sides stood at her bedside. They had once been stiff with newness and pride. Scratched and worn, they fell over open themselves, the leather soft with age and wear. Emma sat on the edge of the bed, her hands holding her up, elbow locked. Her thin, dank hair hung down in greasy strands covering her face and shoulders. She had once been proud and tall too. Tears dripped, mingling with old makeup and sweat from her brow. Her room was hot and stuffy. The sheets were soaked. Crumpled cigarettes and scattered tobacco seemed to have escaped the dampness. It didn’t matter though. Maybe sunlight would help and maybe someone out there would have matches. Dragging the only piece of comfort into her trembling hands she stuffed the cigarettes into her pocket, being careful not to break another one. She had only three left. Emma pulled on the boots which had come with her on her travels into the darkness of the street. Where she once strode, tall, proud and confident down the catwalks of NYC and London, now she was barely able to hold herself up against the wall. The boots were heavy and, with buckles undone in her haste to get away from the smell of sweat, they were poor support for her trembling body. A last piece of rebellion and a fading ember of her old fire insisted that she wear them, no matter who told her that she would ‘break an ankle someday!’.  Every bone in her body had been broken from time to time over the years since she walked the world’s catwalks  lined by flash bulbs capturing her life and passion. She was now back in this dark and frightening place to detox once more from all the chemicals she knew were killing her. With a quiet, choking sob, she also knew that they were the only things that made her feel normal. Only now, it only made her seem normal inside her head and she could only function for the short times when the chemicals coursed through her body. It was becoming harder and harder to find them. Dealers were always demanding more of her or of any money she had. The first time that she used - oh, what an awesome feeling that had been. There had been no words to describe it. It was a feeling that effortlessly lifted her past off and away. All the mundane parts of those catwalk days vanished as though never there. She only wanted to know the crowd applauding and the flash of camera lightbulbs. It was so close to the feeling that cocaine had given her. It was the preparation before her grand entrance that she had railed against. There, in the little patio area with the sunshine on her back, warming her cold, cold bones, she was lost in the haze of memories. She let the cigarette smoke fill her lungs and wrap around her head. The long catwalk. Her dressing room. The dresses and ensembles. Tears welled up in her eyes. That was where she got her boots. A gift from one of the couturiers. The only one who had treated her kindly and gently. They were beautiful together. Just like her boots. A matched pair., He had been everything to her. Had literally clothed her in all the finery that he created. Tears were now streaming down her face as she remembered that her first hit of cocaine had come from that kindness. Since then she had been trapped. Once the cocaine called more insistently than bright lights and audience adulation, the catwalks of NYC and London dwindled to fashion shows in smaller and smaller centres until she was more than just a model - to men and women alike. Never had she been approached by clients when she had been on the big stages. The models were protected from unwanted advances. With that first offer of cocaine, also came the suggestion that there would be more. And there was more, but only more heartache to be numbed and drowned, and with more than just cocaine........

......ran out of words (At least that's what my journal told me)

“The process of writing can be magical…Mostly 

it’s a process of putting one word after another.”

~ Neil Gaiman, (from Goodreads site)

Quite Necessary!

Quite necessary and very welcome in the domino effect - medical and psychiatric - of untreated active addiction. Six to eight week treatment for those suffering from active addictions and mental health issues. Homewood Ravensview is a branch of the Homewood Health in Guelph, Ontario where many have had to travel across Canada to acquire more focussed treatment for both of these conditions. Individuals do not have to have an addictions diagnosis as Homewood centres all treat mental health, including PTSD. As an adventure, I took the opportunity last evening to attend their presentation at the Mary Winspear Centre in Sidney, B.C. Robert de Clark, General Manager and a Masters in Social Work; Dr. Lyn McBeath, psychiatrist and addictions specialist and Dr. Michael Berry, psychologist, each shared personal histories as well as the long history of Homewood Health now extending to Vancouver Island. Their presentations provided insight into the workings of this very welcome resource opening May 22, 2019. A Q&A session following their presentations allowed the audience to ask questions from specific grassroots questions (including cycling in the area) to professional questions. All questions were answered appropriately, however if more in-depth was required, they followed up with the questioner(s) following the Q&A period. Paraphrasing from Robert de Clark’s words in his presentation -

We have a beautiful healing setting as well as an historic (old Dunsmuir site) and renovated building, but it is the team that is important. Their team is an interdisciplinary team to be able to share their knowledge and experience for the well being of the client. Access their website for more complete information at homewood.com, specifically the Ravensview site.  Welcome Homewood Ravensview and your team!

“In the longer run and for wide-reaching issues, more creative solutions 

tend to come from imaginative interdisciplinary collaboration.”

~ Robert J. Schiller

One Huge Surprise!

Let us not be sad

but grateful, glad and willing to 

step into the night.

Time for tears at home………

That is what I planned to write. But that was Thursday evening, before my huge surprise Friday afternoon. My nursing shift went as usual ~ report, organize my work, plan for an admission to Detox at ten, medications, collaborate with physician, nurses, addictions workers and, of course, patients. Lunch then……oh heavens, I’m supposed to meet with the coordinator at 2:30 and I am so behind and clients need attention. I tried to reschedule but she was insistent and gave me 10 minutes to wrap up and get ready for the next shift. More confusion - ‘Walk with me over here. We’ll meet on the other unit.’ So I followed obediently…………the door opened to a room full of staff, food, laughter and a retirement tea in my honour. I was completely and truly surprised. Staff from the Umbrella Society were also part of the huge surprise, and so very welcome. It was absolutely amazing and lovely and so very unexpected. A small and precious part of the great multi-disciplinary team, both inpatient and outreach teams. I have had the pleasure and honour of serving with them over the past fourteen years. We have shared so many stories, faces and people ~ joys and sorrows ~ it was almost overwhelming.

In the photo is an intriguing basket of cookies ~ somewhat worse for the bus ride home ~ but waiting for me to enjoy. They are shaped and decorated like various symbols of nursing ~ a syringe, a red cross, pills and the letters that spell my name.

Thank you all for a really great ride! See you all in the community. And of course ~ my final shift is today. Sunday begins my next journey.

“Our brightest blazes of gladness are commonly 

kindled by unexpected sparks.”

~ Samuel Johnson, The Idler; Poems

Moving Forward ~1

Archaeology is a such big word. 

Finding twenty and thirty year old official papers - a big job. 

Fearsome potholes have been encountered!

Packages of photographs (and a tiny note from a very tiny niece, Daisy)

Letters from patients

Notes from colleagues from my Texas days

Reams and reams of writing about addictions nursing

Didn’t poke through any of it despite itchy fingers

From it all I’ve found two…

only two…..pieces of officialdom with possibility

I am grateful though as the dates are close!

More searching tomorrow

Something with dates more accurate.

“For there is nothing lost, that may be found, if sought.”

~ Edmund Spenser, The Faerie Queene

A Memory Unearthed

It was an old memory

Unearthed in my search

For government documents

A bit faded but not tattered

 ~ a greeting card

from a patient long ago

He was a young scrappy guy

temporarily wheelchair bound

with a smile and laugh for us all

I am grateful to this young fellow

and the gratitude I’ve had from patients

across many miles and many years.

Addiction is a terrible disease

that breaks the spirits of far too many in this world.

Gratitude breaks through that darkness.

“Gratitude is the fairest blossom which springs from the soul.”

~ Henry Ward Beecher

A Thank You Note

It was Nurses Week last week. I did not write anything about nurses or honouring nurses. Not even complaining about nursing. But I did work in nursing. At the beginning of this year, going in depth about things - anything - has been a challenge that was laid on my table. The concept of a depth year didn’t originate from me. That would have involved acting on all of the swirling thoughts in my head. It did come from a CBC interview. Mary Hynes, on Tapestry, one Sunday afternoon, interviewed David Cain from Winnipeg about this idea of going in depth. Not buying anything new. This seemed like a great idea. I tend to be really tight with my money - until I’m not. I suppose it is more like thinking about being tight with my money.

So I started with that concept. Not buying anything new. As days and weeks progressed, I began looking at more things in depth, especially my nursing career. My retirement from nursing approaches ever more closely as I turned seventy years old in November of last year. I am still interested in and concerned about nursing. The part of nursing that interests me is the attitude of nursing. It sounds rather flip to talk about caring about and for our patients. Spending time with our patients. Today’s nurses are often instructed and encouraged to use the word ‘clients’. I do believe that this simple wording change moves us away from the attitude of nursing.

I have cared for individuals in most areas of nursing. Nursing in paediatrics and obstetrics have not interested me, but I have experienced the other side of paediatrics as a young teenager and of obstetrics as a young mom. Of course I did work in both areas in my nurse training years. Despite the little exposure in these two fields, I have cared for individuals from 1 1/2 years old to 108 years old. All along this age continuum, each person has required different care, but with the same attitude of nursing. Sick people need to feel safe, emotionally and physically. Each age, each level of ability, and many times each sort of vocabulary used, will involve different lengths of time. This is especially true for the very young, the very old, people new to being ill, chronic illnesses including addiction and mental health, surgical as opposed to medical issues, end of life concerns. Of course there are new moms, again including addiction and mental health concerns. Bedside nursing will require either more or less time involvement. Community referrals, and therefore community nursing, also requires more or less time involvement. In my present employment in Addictions Nursing at the Detox level, our age range is 19 years to over 80 years old. As the age increases, medical issues increase, infirmity increases and maybe also cognition may decrease. Nursing care requires constant shifting into what models of care are effective for each client (there’s that client word). Is this more psychiatric, geriatric, just out of adolescence or someone who is basically healthy? What nutritional issues need to be addressed?

Going in depth about the attitude of nursing has spoken to my inner beliefs and my personal nursing practice. As nurses we are challenged to fit the mold of whatever system we are in, what ever business model is in place, and unfortunately how some in medicine still see the role of nurses. That role is too often a ‘do as you are told’ attitude rather than a collaborative attitude. In any hospital, treatment centre or clinic nurses work in, our attitudes and practices of nursing mesh with best practices, the mission statement from the board room, as well as policies and protocols to provide emotional and physical safety our patients. When they do not mesh, it is a huge challenge for nurses to work with their patients, or clients, in the manner they were trained to and believe in. But we do it. 

We provide skilled, compassionate nursing care without worrying about recognition. On a daily basis. Recognition is not part of a genuine nursing attitude, but it feels so good when it comes. It comes with a hand lettered card saying Thank you. Saying…you saved my life.  Saying….I remember when you walked me through that anxiety attack.  Saying…Thank you for taking care of my daughter ….my son….my dad….my mom.  And so many other sayings each of us, individually or as a group, hear. Little threads outside of the larger health care settings telling us that the nursing practice we do is more important than any political health crises in the news.

Nurses do more than take blood pressures, record data on computers and give medications. We support each individual in the throes of their acute illness, in their abilities to step forward in their own recovery from illness, educate them about individual health care issues. We are not technology, we use technology. We are not secretaries, we do some documentation. We are not specifically pharmaceutically minded, we administer physician ordered medications. We do not formally diagnose our patients, we do recognize signs and symptoms. We save lives and we escort individuals through their final days. We support individuals as they move through a variety of severe diseases and conditions.

I am so very grateful to have worked with so many different nurses and in different areas over the last 50 years. You have each contributed such great depth to this profession! Thank you all for your wisdom, your support and your willingness to spend time and to deeply care for your patients.

“Nursing is an art…It is one of the Fine Arts: 

I had almost said the finest of Fine Arts.”

~ Florence Nightingale