Ordered a Hermione costume to be delivered via eBay for my 8 year old. Found out after the fact that the seller was based in China. Now, I live in the Midwest and I see the seller shipped it to Georgia. 😒 Another reason to buy American made products. Most Americans know the difference between the Midwest and Georgia….most people, not all.
Have you ever shaved your legs and thought, “this blade has had it. Time to get a new one!”
Don’t even use it one more time. Razor burn hurt.
First, let me start off by saying that I am so very thankful that men and women fought so hard for our freedom. To know so many soldiers died while fighting that battle, is devastating. I wish I could personally thank each person for being braver, stronger, smarter than myself.
Then I think about my dad. About my cousins. My grandpas. All who fought in war and survived war and I can’t help but be a little pissed. A cousin and my dad have been formally diagnosed with PTSD. One of my grandfathers left war as an alcoholic that plagued him until his death.
The most bravest people in my world left war with invisible wounds. Wounds that our VA hospitals are ill equipped to deal with. My dads PTSD was so severe at one point that we started consulting inpatient treatment centers. Guess how difficult it is to find a VA hospital for inpatient PTSD. Why isn’t millions of dollars are not invested into soldier PTSD?
It should be assume that everyone coming out of war has PTSD and should be treated accordingly. It has to become so routine in the healthcare system to treat wartime soldiers for PTSD that all stigmas attached to mental health, are gone.
My dad’s symptoms have improved so much. He was never able to go to inpatient treatment. He was placed on a waiting list and the director of the program told me something that will always haunt my dreams.
“We prioritize Gulf War/War on Terror survivors. Because suicide rates amoung this population is insurmountable”
Because men and women who come home from war now, come home with PTSD so severe that they choose to end their lives. They fight and make it home only to die at their own hand. And here I sit. In my safe, comfy bed. My heart hurts for them, for my loved ones, for those suffering.
I despise the eyerolls I get for talking about my struggles with a gifted child. But there are days I wish I’d kept the recipt for her “gifts”. I could walk into the hospital she was born in and say, “I’d like to return her ‘gifts’ and just get her with a normal brain, please.”
Today was a day I wish she wasn’t so smart. I found out today that she essentially had no math class at the end of the year. At her elementary school the children are given a pretest for the chapter they are about to learn (math pre-test). If they get a 100%, they sit at their desk and do “independent learning”. Well, she got the Harry Potter series last summer and she decided to only wanted to get the math chapters wrong that she thought looked like fun…charts, graphs, and so on. And the rest of the time she read. The 7 books of the Harry Potter series two times during school year.
Gifted is not always a gift. She is starting to have more anxiety about things she cannot control like other drivers on the road or people who are sick. And she has “ticks” that are showing up more often. She doesn’t feel like girls her age like the same things. She was embarrassed in kindergarten because she was the only kid reading chapter books. She gets in trouble 3-4 times a week for getting bored and then doing pirouettes or reading her books when she’s not suppose to be reading or talking to someone.
And schools. Public schools where we are simply do not care about children who are ahead. She brings in 99’s in every standardized test she’s ever had and that makes them happy. But challenging her is not something they want to worry about. No charter schools here and the private religious based schools operated the same way as the public schools. I asked to advance her a year and was told that they don’t do that. Now here’s where shared parenting sucks. I would love to home school and her dad is too concerned about her becoming a weirdo.
So there she sat. At the back of the classroom in her own little world with her Harry Potter books. All year long. What a waste.
We’ve just booked a trip to Disney World for Halloween. Then I get my oldest dance comp schedule today. Yep, they plan on going to worlds if they get a bid. In April ’16. In Disney World. Girl better fundraise her little booty off this year! Thanks Disney.
Being in the medical field, people I know often come to me with health related questions. Sometimes I can tell people are using me to gauge how crazy their symptoms are before they go to their real healthcare provider. And by “people”….I mean my husband.
First off, I’m about 2 classes and 100 clinical hours short of my PEDIATRIC nurse practitioner degree. My husband does not fall into the pediatric specially or that would be super creepy. Today he tells me, “so sometimes my left knee feels wet. Not all over, just like a 2cm square area.”
In pediatrics, if a child tells me their left knee feels wet, there’s a 99.99999% chance this child has what is called “grabaShoutWipeSTATbecausethiskidhastheREDcherryjuiceboxtheywerejustdrinkingontheirleftkneeseriouslywhoinventedjuicebox-itis”.
But my husband can usually handle his juice boxes without spilling so I needed to dig deep into my nursey nurse brain for this one! I’m relatively sure he’s going to make it through the night.
In his defense, the first time I met him I told him he had cancer. Not in those exact words. In these exact words. He had a sore on his eye and he says to me.
Him-“Don’t mind my eye, I’ve had this sty for like a year now.”
Me-“Oh really?” First date, mind you. Met on a dating website, first time seeing him in person.
Him-“Yea sometimes I think I pick it in my sleep because it will like bleed or scab over or something, but it just never heals.” And all the nurses reading this sing in harmony (B🎶C🎶C)
Me-(realizing he had asked me on this date because he knows I’m a nurse and he wants my opinion on his eye) “So have you talked to your doctor about it?”
Him-“No, do you think it’s something big? Like it’s not cancer……..is it?”
Me-He’s cute, I better use nice but strong words so he goes to the doctor and gets this taken care of. “There’s no way of knowing without a biopsy of the area, which would have to be done by your doctor. But this is a valid symptom your healthcare provider would want to see you about.”
Btw, telling a guy to get his basal cell carcinoma taken care of can earn you some brownie points cause that boy put a ring on it!
Do yourself a favor and Google sty. I like how the Internet is moving away from the basic race and gender neutral stock photo people. But this guys creator could have dialed down the stalker/hitchhiker look just a smidge.