I hit the dreaded number today....

The big 3-oh. Dirty thirty.

You know, when I was 15 and thought about who I'd be when I turned 30, this was not what I thought life would be like. I don't feel 30. Well, today in particular I feel 50, because this spawn of the debil (aka the future ruler of the world as we know it) growing inside of me is still giving my guts a hard time; but in general I don't feel thirty.

Like for example, I was a little bit disappointed that I was having a 'zero' birthday and couldn't get write-myself-off schnockered. I was a little disappointed that I didn't have a million and one Facebook messages from people I barely knew saying the obligatory "Happy birthday!" I felt a little inadequate, that I organised a dinner in a nice quiet restaurant, for 10 people.

I look back at photos of me in my early 20's and wish to Bacon that I'd seen how gorgeous I appear to my now 30 year old self. I think about the masses of friends I had back then and compare them to the few good friends I have now and wonder where they went. I look back to the times that I used to be able to hit the clubs until 4am but still wake up at 8am feeling like I could take on the world and wonder what the hell happened to that chick.

Then it hits me. I really AM 30.  Because none of those things really matter to me anymore. Suddenly having 'drinking buddies' became less important than having friends you could cry with over a loss of a child.  Having a quiet night in instead of a massive party where I have to clean up vomit & dread the photos being uploaded to the internet is kind of, well, a relief.

It's just funny how priorities change & you don't even see it happening really. How life goes on and it's not until you stop and go 'holy snapping duck shit, where the HELL did the last 10 years go and who am I?'

I loved that today, I got to wake up to the love of my life, who made me a quiet breakfast then we played with our dog. I loved that I didn't have to worry about being a host to a 100 people who were probably just going to get drunk and trash my house anyway. I loved that I am starting a family and my thoughts have been on buying baby things rather than alcohol.

I think the main thing I've learnt today though, is that growing older isn't a bad thing. There was a lot of bad shit that happened to me in my 20's. I wouldn't be the person I am today without it happening, but it wasn't fun to experience and you couldn't pay me enough to go back to those years & do it again. Why do we as a society (in general) fear getting older? Why was I clinging on to the fact that I'm not the person I was 10 years ago? I like who I am now. I feel like I'm a completely different person to the woman I was only a year ago.

And that's ok.

Don't get me wrong, I still wish I could have a night of party & not pay for it for 3 days afterwards, but the other stuff that comes with getting older is so much more worthwhile.

So happy 30th birthday to me. This year I genuinely feel like I am actually another year older & another year wiser.

Cheers,
Qld Nurse

So this pregnancy gig is hard....

I read a blog the other day about the lies we tell each other as women. How we say we love being pregnant, that you forget how much labour hurts, that your body will snap back etc....

.......and what a crock of horseshit it is.

I almost high-five'd the screen. Then I cried. I do that now.

I'm almost 20 weeks pregnant. Almost half way. And I can tell you right now, it's been the longest 5 months of my life. I feel shit. I'm still spewing at least once a day. When I'm not spewing, I feel like I'm going to spew at any second. I'm exhausted ALL the time. Everything hurts. EVERYTHING. Including my teeth & gums because I'm pretty sure the stomach acid is eating them both away. My boobs have a mind of their own as do my tear ducts. Any form of exercise makes my stomach turn, and yes, for those thinking it, that does include sex. Just to give you an idea, I've spent today in my pyjamas alternating from the couch to the bed, all with a vomit bag in handy reach and a box of tissues to wipe the snot streaming out my nose because I'm crying so hard. That's been my day off, and I promise you that it's not a one-off.

I don't feel radiant. I feel sweaty, fat, sick and a little bit over this whole pregnancy thing. You know the 'pregnancy glow' people talk about? Yeah, well mine is either a layer of sweat from heaving, or if you're lucky it could be a little leftover throw up. THAT'S my pregnancy glow fucker. And to add insult to injury people keep saying to me 'wow! you're not even showing yet!' which I take to mean 'gosh you were so fat before that even with the weight you've lost you just look the same now.' Cue tears. So now I'm crying as well as sweaty, fat & sick with possible vomit in my hair or forehead. Sexy right? I have no idea how my husband controls himself, I really don't. A weaker man for sure, would crumble.

It started with fertility treatment - that made me vomit, cry every day for 3 weeks, gave me abdominal cramps like period pain having period pain & all round made me feel like shit. But it worked! I got pregnant! There was a whole 3 or 4 days where I was feeling amazing. Like my husband and I were the smartest people alive & there was absolutely no one in the world who ever got pregnant before us. That the pain had been worth it, because we were now growing a human.

Then the spewing started. And get this - I was happy. HAPPY. Because it meant the baby was alive. Having suffered a miscarriage, I was pretty keen to have any notice from the parasite living within me, that it was in fact, still sucking the nutrients from my body.

That happiness lasted about a month. Hell, it was even a running joke that my feet would hit the floor in the morning & the gagging would start. We laughed, and laughed & I would throw up from laughing too hard. The cleaner at work busted me singing the song of my people one morning & it became a new way for us to bond. It was funny.

Then it stopped being so funny. "It will get better after the first trimester" they told me. "It eases, it really does" they said. Then the 1st trimester came & went. 8 FUCKING WEEKS AGO ARE YOU LISTENING BABY?!?

Then "well mine ended around the 15-16 week mark". Well see ya 16 weeks. It's now almost 20 fucking weeks. 5 months of never knowing when I may just perform a multi-colour yawn wherever I happen to be at that particular time. 5 months of not going out to dinner because I may as well just straight up flush $50 down the toilet. 5 months of getting excited when I don't spew one day only to make up for it and spew ALL day the next day.

You add into that, the fact I do 12 hour shifts & I'm a mess. I'm not gonna lie to you. I'm a god damn mess. Call it hormones, call it exhaustion, call it me being a first class whinger whatever. I'm over it.

And I feel so guilty about feeling over it. SO guilty and ungrateful. If I lost this baby I would be inconsolable for sure. I wanted to raise a kid so badly & when I thought I couldn't have kids it devastated me. That's the key though isn't it? I didn't want to be pregnant, I wanted a child. I wanted to raise a family. Pregnancy is just  (one of) the ways to do that.

So I've decided today that I'm just going to wallow for a little while & stop feeling guilty about it. Because I don't want to be pregnant, I want to have a child. I want other women who feel like shit, to be able to come right out and say "you know what, I hated being pregnant too!" I'm not going to lie to people and say that I love this. I don't. I fucking hate it. I hate being pregnant. There. It's said.

When my midwife puts this baby on my chest for the first time, I'm sure it will all be worth it. Right now though, right now I'm going to sit here, bitch & moan, and not feel guilty about it. So there baby.

Cheers,
Qld Nurse.

When is enough, enough?

*Warning - this post talks about sensitive issues including suicide & euthanasia.  It is in no way a judgement & I welcome intelligent debate. Any trolls or personal attacks will be deleted.

Ok. *Deep breath*.

At Uni, we as nursing students are taught the benefit of reflective journalling. A place to talk about our day & what we think we did well, what we didn't, maybe some issues that patients bring up within ourselves. After all, we work in a pretty traumatic area. "I've seen shit man!"

I've generally just debriefed with other nurses or my husband. But consider this my reflective journal. Please note - I will not mention names or specifics in order to protect the privacy of the patients I will be talking about.

A few weeks ago, I had a patient that really got to me. Now, in critical care, we get a lot of attempted suicides. Sad, but we do. Most are overdoses, some are hangings, a few we get are physical trauma such as cutting themselves etc.  As a general rule, most of these people survive because IMO they weren't trying to die, they were calling out for help. I find it incredibly sad, that people have to go to that level before people will listen to their cry, but generally when we extubate them, they are remorseful & willing to get help.

This particular older lady, who had been living with a chronic illness, WANTED to die. The things she did to herself were shocking and I almost cried on several occasions. She was not messing around, she was not calling out for help, and my heart absolutely broke that someone would be in such a deep, dark place, that they were able to do that to themselves. It was something off a horror show.

It reminded me of another patient who was riddled with Cancer, he had been through a ridiculous amount of pain to try and rid himself of said Cancer, and it had gotten to the point where his body had given up. However, his family wanted to keep fighting. Despite the fact the doctors had told them there was very little chance he would survive. I felt like I was torturing this poor man by performing care. I hated myself.  These type of patients stick with me and I occasionally think back and wonder when enough is enough?

I'm talking about Euthanasia. Her chronic illness has no cure, she had lived a fairly full life, she'd had enough. He was not going to survive his Cancer, yet had to go through the indignity of losing control of his body and being kept alive by a machine until his family decided enough was enough. Not him, his family.

Australia - it's time we talk about this. We talk about abortion, we talk about child abuse, we talk about murder and yet, we cringe when the big 'E' is mentioned.

We as a healthcare system seem so intent on saving everyone. We prod, we probe, we do palliative surgery & put people through hell when unfortunately, they are going to die. We are all going to die at some stage - it's inevitable. So why do we have no say in when this happens? If you're living with chronic pain, there's no cure, then why can't it be a case of sooner rather than later? Sure we have a few palliative care centres here and there. Are they adequate? Not really.

Now I know there's many arguements on each side of this debate. I have a firm belief that people who are anti-Euthanasia because we 'shouldn't be allowed to play God', have never watched a love one suffer so incredibly until finally they can take no more. BTW if 'God' was as good as you think he is, why does he make good people suffer in the first place? Most stupid statement there is. It's not an arguement because there's no logic to it, it's a statement and a stupid one.

Yes, it has the ability to be misused. Depression is classed as a chronic condition, and as someone who's been in that dark space where you don't see any other out, I'm glad euthanasia wasn't around. But can't we put safe guards in place to prevent that? People need to be psychologically screened before they're allowed access - if you're in a depressive episode, you can't make legal decisions anyway because your judgement is impaired.  Sure, there will be some people who will slip through the cracks. But as it is there are people doing that. Look at the suicide rate! At least with some counselling we may save some lives.

Doctors can make mistakes. But can 2 or 3? When they all reach the same conclusion?

Technology is changing constantly and there are scientific breakthroughs all the time. Yes, that's great. But for some people, it's not happening in their lifetime. So we should make them sit and rot internally because in a few years there might be a cure?

It makes me incredibly sad. Why are we so afraid of letting people decide when they've had enough of this life? In the end, we have the autonomy to decide whether we seek treatment for chronic illness. At least with Euthanasia, you have the ability to choose a time, place, who will be around and you can get your affairs in order. As opposed to being kept alive by machines because your family don't want to let you go & your body being too weak for you even to protest. Or having to buy drugs illegally from overseas & die alone because your family could be charged & jailed if they have any idea what you're about to do.

I know if it were me, I would hate to not be able to move and have to have someone clean me up because I'd lost control of my bowels again. I would hate to be too weak to talk to my loved ones & tell them the things I always wanted to say. I would hate to have to watch my loved ones faces, as they saw me slowly fading away to a person they didn't recognise anymore. It's not pleasant, and the outcome is always the same. So I think we should have the right to choose.

Anyway, please feel free to comment, tell me your story, let me know what you think.

Cheers,
Qld Nurse.

Pregnant Woman Rant ahead

Seriously, language and hormone induced anger warning.  Look away. I said LOOK AWAY!

I am currently 12 weeks pregnant after undergoing some fertility treatment. Yay! I am having quite bad all day sickness because whoever called it morning sickness was probably a MAN who only ever saw his barefoot pregnant wife in the morning before he left to have AFFAIRS with his WHORE I'm sorry please don't leave me alone I love you!

Despite the fact I may scream "WHAT DO YOU FUCKING WANT FROM ME BABY?" through a stream of snot and spit while hunched over Percy the Porcelain, I am quite ecstatic to be pregnant.  Even more ecstatic that we have gotten to the infamous 12 week period and I was able to see a head (only one, phew!) and a heartbeat on the scan this morning.  I'm also aware of why I'm so sick because baby decided not to sit still for one second.  There was no photographic evidence but I'm pretty sure it's because she was swinging on my intestines. Also, I know it's a girl because it just is, and don't argue with me because I'm pretty sure I could stab you and get away with it on the hormone defence OKAY?

So I thought I'd spout some gems of wisdom that I have learned in my 12 weeks of being pregnant. i.e. I will rant about things that piss me off because hormones and hunger and constipation.  Right.

1.  Everything is a competition

EVERYTHING. Either people brag about how much sicker they were than me, or they brag about how little they had. Then they brag about their natural, drug free labour or they brag about how horrible their labour was and how super humanly they were somehow able to survive it and I should worship their every word on pregnancy.  They brag about how little weight they put on, or how much they put on and how hard they worked to lose it. Seriously, I don't care. Every pregnancy, every baby and every labour is different and when you asked me how I was I genuinely thought you wanted to know. If I'd been aware that it was just a way for you to bridge into your life story I would have just answered with 'fine thanks'. I apologise. Also, you are not the first or last person to have a baby and whatever you've done is not special - look at the internet and see the millions of others that have also done whatever you've done. So take your vegan, organic, yoga, home birth story and shove it up stage 4 torn ass. I don't want to hear it right now. Thanks.

2.  People who don't immunise their children should be placed on notice of having their children removed

Because they are obviously too stupid to raise them properly.  I haven't even had this child yet, and I am harassing every family member to make sure they are up to date on the whooping cough, flu and measles vaccine at the very least.  Vaccines don't cause autism, they don't cause birth defects, they cause children to NOT DIE FROM PREVENTABLE DISEASE. Fair enough, if your child has a severe allergy & you have it under great medical advice that it's not appropriate for your child to be vaccinated, great. But you should  make DAMN sure everyone else around your un-vaccinated child is done. In this day & age, I refuse to enter into an arguement on why you shouldn't vaccinate your kids, because as Mark Twain said 'never argue with idiots because they'll drag you down to their level & then beat you with experience.'  I do not understand parents who don't want to do absolutely everything in the power to prevent their kids from suffering and dying. If you give my child a disease because they're too young & you're too stupid, I will do a Liam Neeson on your ass. I promise. #vaccinateyourkidsstupid

3.  There's so much wrong with the world

It's depressing. Inconsiderate, rude, ignorant dicks who seem to be breeding at a phenomenal amount, with their stinky offspring just waiting to taint my precious future ruler of the world with their bigotry & bullshit. The worry about whether my child is going to grow up to be a serial killer is always there in the back of my mind and the fact that they will be socialising with children who RUN IN FUCKING SHOPPING CENTRES does nothing to quell said fear. The world is going to hell in a hand basket kids.  Bacon help us all. But more importantly Bacon help your kid if it so much as whispers a bad influence into my child's ear. Because I will be an absolutely amazing parent who raises the best child who does nothing wrong and that's my story and I'm sticking to it and if you tell me anything different I will cry so shut up!

4. Everyone's a fucking expert

Do you know how many articles are out there pretty much outlining that I am going to kill/damage/disable/severely fuck up my baby? I read an article telling pregnant women not to have Paracetamol. Panadol FFS. Because it causes autism. Are you fucking kidding me? Like we don't have enough guilt as mothers, then there's these arseholes out there making us feel guilty for not 'soldiering through' a headache. Oh and ultrasounds, as well as C-sections! Oh an make sure you limit X, Y, fucking Z because it causes X, Y, fucking Z. Well you know what? Fuck that. If this fertility struggle has taught me anything, it's that I have limited control over the baby situation. I can eat as healthily, exercise, avoid teratogens, whatever and it will still have limited impact on what is a process we don't fully understand because the baby gods will do what the baby gods will do. And that's coming from someone in the health field! Unless you have some scientific evidence in the form of millions of double blind trials and the recommendation of the world's experts, then keep your opinions (and that's only what they are without evidence) to yourself. I already feel guilty enough about EVERYTHING so take your judgement and jam it up your clacker bitch.

So that's my pregnant lady rant. I do not guarantee there won't be more to come. Please feel free to add your rants into the comments section. I will most likely virtually high five you, because that's the mood I'm in right now. I may cry about it tomorrow. Who knows! My poor husband is playing emotional bingo lately, but I think he likes it. Keeps him on his toes, no?

Cheers,
Qld Nurse.

Not sure what is worse....

So, um, the fertility treatment worked. Yep. I'm pregnant. I have spent the last 22 days since the positive pregnancy test waiting to miscarry, but it hasn't happened yet. Praise Bacon! We went for our first scan yesterday and I saw the tiniest little heart beating of the thing growing inside of me and I felt.... well.... sick.

Mostly because that's how I've felt for the last 3 weeks. Violently ill. I don't feel pregnant, I feel like my boobs are going to explode at the same time my stomach does.

And anxious. Oh the anxiety. I know i'm not the only person who has miscarried in the world, so I'm putting it out the to the universe, if you are one of the lucky ones who miscarried and then went on to a healthy pregnancy, hit me up. Tell me how you coped, because the next 7.5 months are looking mighty long when all I can see is waiting for the cramps and baby dying thing to happen.

I don't know what was worse - the waiting for a positive pregnancy test, or the complete guilt every time I do anything at all. I vomit salad, I keep chips & gravy down. I feel guilty for not eating well. I had some post mix coke to try and quell the nausea, caffeine. I felt guilty. I lifted something at work. Guilt. I'm even working at all. Maximus Guiltimus! Every single thing I do, I'm wondering if I just killed the baby.

I'm getting the feeling though, that this is it. Like literally this will be my life from now on.

The guilt and anxiety never go away do they? I have a sneaky suspicion that once the kid is born (fingers, toes, eyes and legs crossed it IS born) it will in fact, get worse. That every single thing I say to this kid will potentially screw them up and that in 19 years I'll be sitting watching the news and my kid will come on surrounded by a SWAT team. That the thing that I just fed them that wasn't wholefood organic with a side of anti-oxidants, well that just gave them diabetes.  That because I had to go back to work to financially give them a life, the emotional scarring means they will never recover and spend a lifetime alone, smearing lipstick on their face screaming "do you love me NOW MUMMY?"

Seriously, what the hell is this? Is it hormones? It is the maternal instinct everyone talks about? Or has the lack of sleep and absorbed nutrients finally eroded my brain to the point that my level of logic has disintegrated?

Cheers,
Qld Nurse.

Fuck you womenz

So I'm subscribed to Mamamia.  I'm getting a bit sick of the shit they post to be honest. It's turned into a bit of publicity bullshit grab and I don't like it.  Mia Freedman kind of annoys me and I'd love to work for them simply so I could antagonise her (oh and not clean shit off the walls) but I digress.....

I continue to click on their crap though, so colour me guilty.

But ----> this http://www.mamamia.com.au/parenting/fitmum/ post really shit me to tears.

For starters, in case you've come across this blog due my absolutely unexpected nerve hitting piece "Tony Abbott, you're an arsehole" found here http://qldnurse.blogspot.com.au/2014/02/tony-abbott-youre-asshole.html (which thanks for everyone's input, glad I'm not the only one who's a big fan of the term 'douche canoe'), I'm having trouble conceiving another human being.

So the fact, that ANYONE who CAN conceive another human being without trouble, feels they have the right to criticise anyone else who can conceive another human being, is pretty much worthy of being castrated (or have a hysterectomy - I'm a nurse not an idiot I know biology) in my opinion.  THERE.

WHY THE FUCK do women hate each other so much?  Seriously?  I'm not sure, but I think I graduated high school (quite) a few years back and the backstabbing bitchiness stopped there.  But apparently I am wrong, as a wimenz I am subject to the backstabbing bitchiness that apparently comes along with being a wimenz. My question is why?

Now, before I was a Registered Nurse, I worked in Construction. Sexism aside (I once had a Site Manager say that a construction site was 'no place for a woman') I loved loved loved working with blokes.  Because this is how it went.

Them: "You fucked up."  Me: "Yep, sure did." Them: "Fix it. Don't do it again.". Me: "I'll buy a carton this Friday". Them: "Sweet".

Then, it was forgotten!  Holy mother of Bacon!! (If you're confused, please refer to my earlier post where I clearly indicated I was a Minister of the Church of Bacon and no, am still not ashamed. I will ordain your marriage in the Church of Bacon if you wish #praisebacon).

So here's my issue.  Working with the wimenz.

I recently found out, that the wimenz that I used to work with over 3 months ago, were bitching about me changing my Facebook privacy settings so they couldn't see everything I posted.  I did this a while ago and apparently I'm 'such' a good friend they've only realised now.  So, instead of coming to me personally, these wimenz decided that they would bitch about me to someone they knew was my friend, knowing this conversation would get back to me and I would somehow respond.  Well you know what wimenz? FUCK YOU! If you're upset you're not getting my information on Facebook, text me! Call me! Get the information from the source directly.  Don't bitch about me behind me back.

Re: the crap mamamia article. Wimenz - stop being bitchez!!!  Yes, I am writing with the z's because I feel like this subject is so stupid and outdated the new technology needs to be adapted just to highlight how stupid we as wimenz are.

Why? My question is why? We have so much pressure from pretty much EVERY other area, to be better than we are, more than we are, better looking than we are, better mothers than we are, better WHAT-THE-FUCK ever than we, that can't we just do the sisterhood a solid and get each other's back for fuck's sake??

Seriously, you're now bitching about other wimenz not exercising enough with kids? Seriously? Like for serious? As in the real world?

When I finally do get to become a mother, I will spend (possibly) a week or more in my pj's doing nothing but stare at my new born child.  If you don't like that, FUCK YOU.  There is 0 possibility of me dragging my (apparently, I just gave new life to another human being, but whatever) fat ass to the gym and leaving my miracle of a being alone while I squat my 'tight ass buns' at the gym.  Because you know what? I JUST GAVE BIRTH TO ANOTHER HUMAN BEING SO SUCK IT!!

And you know what wimenz? You probably just did too!  So shut the fuck up!

Raising children is HARD. Like ridiculously hard! And I have this sneaky suspicion, that if you're more concerned about what the women next door is doing with her 'saddlebags' than you are with your child's next smile/laugh/giggle/burp/bowel movement, then you are doing parenting WRONG!

So shut the hell up!!

Next time a friend comes to you saying that she feels fat and unloved, tell her she GAVE LIFE! Which isn't easy to do.

Next time someone tells her she isn't losing her 'baby weight' as fast as she wants, ask her about how her kid is doing.

Next time your friend says her husband says her body isn't the same since she gave birth, tell her to nut punch him.

Stop being bitchez! Let's support each other hey?  Geezus.  Is it seriously that hard??

And Mamamia - YOU. Stop writing deliberately inflammatory crap under the guise that you are all feminists working towards bringing the sisters together. Because THIS crap is NOT doing that. We are all aware you are simply doing it to get clicks on an article. SO STOP. Bad Mamamia. Bad!

Love,
Qld Nurse.

Tony Abbott, you're an arsehole.

Hi Tony,

You're a douche canoe.

When you said that some people earn too much money, I'm sure you didn't mean nursing staff.  Because I'm nursing staff.  And I ASSURE YOU, I earn every single fucking dollar I earn.  Like my tweet said, if you came to me in hour 10 of my 12 hour night shift and told me that I was 'earning too much' I would probably kick you fair in the nuts and then continue on with the rest of my shift on autopilot.

For starters, when I worked on the Neurosurgical ward, I got spat at, kicked, hit, punched, abused and had to deal with people painting the walls in their own faeces.  So I'm sure that when I was on an early shift earning my $30.3526/hr which included showering, feeding, changing pads, walking, dealing with family/friends/doctors/physios etc etc. you didn't mean me.  I'm SURE.  Because when I got home from my early shift (for those in the know, that means NO penalty rates) and couldn't move from the couch because my back hurt from physically moving several people from a bed to a chair/tilt table/regency and I couldn't feel my feet from being on them for 8 hours straight, I know you didn't mean that I didn't earn my dollars.

Now I work in Critical Care, and it doesn't matter what shift I'm on because I run my ass off no matter what, I'm 100% sure you didn't mean that I didn't earn my dollars.

I KNOW that on Sundays, when the cleaners got paid more than me and all they had to do was vacuum floors and change linen skips while I was juggling the life of at LEAST 8 people instead of enjoying a weekend with my new husband, that you didn't mean that I didn't earn my dollars.  (PS I love you cleaners, you make my life so much more bearable and please don't hate me for trying to make a point, I heart you.)

Because here's the thing.  I never went into nursing for the money.  I'm 100% sure that no nurse EVER goes into the profession thinking 'hey, I'm gonna retire when I'm 30 from the $ i'll be making'.  No one. EVER.

Nurses, want to make sick people feel better.  Nurses, want to make a difference in people's lives.  I've been doing this shit for almost 5 years now and I've been told maybe 3 or 4 times 'Really, thank you.'

You know what sucks?  Those 3 or 4 times, make it worth it.  I do what I do, not because I have a HECS debt that I'm not gonna repay until i'm 105, not because I can tell people that I save lives, not because EVERY SINGLE FUCKING DAY someone tells me thanks.  No.  I do what I do, because I love it.  Sure, the money isn't fantastic. It isn't terrible, and I get penalty rates.  But guess what Tony, I earn those bloody penalty rates.  I don't go on a fucking charity bike ride sponsored by whoever and claim that shit back on the taxpayer's dollar.  I work on weekends.  MOST weekends. Because people don't get sick between the hours of 9am to 5pm Monday to Friday.  I have to book my holidays over a year in advance because everyone is so burnt out and we are so understaffed that we are only allowed a certain amount of people on holidays at one time.

I don't say it often enough.  I don't even feel it often enough.  The amount of times I've thought to myself, "I can't do this anymore." "This is killing me." "Why do I do this?" "No one even cares."

But you know what Tony A-Butt?  I do what I do because it make a difference in someone's life.  It may not pay the best, it may pay the best. Whatever.  It still makes me a better human being than you.

Because the taxpayers pay my wage, and I give back to them.  Unlike YOU.  Who are taking, and making a mockery of the system.

You earn 10x more than what I make and what have you given to the Australian public? SFA that's what.  What you need to realise Tony is that you too are a public servant.  If you make a decision that 'isn't going to be popular with the public' then you probably shouldn't do it. Because the public voted you in to do what was best for them.  So if the 'general public' don't want it, then don't fucking do it, you wanker.  YOU work for US.  The same as me.  The same as all the public servants who are earning the minimum wage, that you lovingly think is too much.

Hey Tones, can I call you that?  I feel like because my taxes are paying you, we are on a nick-name kinda basis.

Tones, here's an idea.  Instead of cutting back on things like Australians benefits that they are ENTITLED TO, how about you look at your useless Minister's wages and cut back on that shit. Because the way I see it, if you think that the rest of Australia should be paid on a performance basis, your dickwads of pollies should be too.  If they don't perform, they should be subject to the same kind of scrutiny that the police/fire/ambulance/nurses/ALL PUBLIC SERVANTS are.

YOU WORK FOR US TONY.  Don't forget that.  You've pretty much pissed off the entirety of Australia with your backflip on policies.  So how bout you do us all a favour and do what you were elected to do, and stop flipping us all the bird.

Yours sincerely,
Qld Nurse.

As the year 2013 ends.....

So as the year comes to an end I think to myself "THANK CHRIST!" Or "THANK BACON" as I am now officially an ordained member of the Church of Bacon. Yes - it was a drunken impulse.  No I am not sorry so deal OK?

Seriously, this has been probably the worst year of my life. I've thought about divorce more times than I should have (yep hit my first anniversary in September = winning!!!), I've miscarried the baby I so desperately wanted and I've changed into a job where I feel I know nothing and everyone is wondering when I'll get fired, my parents have separated (again for the like the 60th time) and my father in law has undergone chemo like 3 times. It's been grand. :o/

So, at the end of the year, I walk past homeless and the less fortunate and I think, well maybe I shouldn't be such a cunt. (Sorry for the c word mum, I love you.)

I mean, I have a job where I get paid (fairly) decently, I have an alright car, my bills are paid on time (relatively) and the only REAL problem I have is that ppl turn to me with their problems and expect me to solve them (mostly my parents, but occasionally 'friends').

Which is cool, but I feel like a fraud because if they're turning to me, it means they think I've got my shit figured out. Which means I'm obviously a hell better actor than I thought I was.  I do NOT have my shit figured out. I mean in total "I've called Lifeline like twice in the last month and have made an anonymous donation to counteract the calls" not figured out is what I'm talking about.

I do not understand life. I do not understand why some people can be absolute bastards to their bodies and survive and others can live an 'organic, drug free, preservative free, colour free, fun free' life and die of brain cancer. I do not understand that.  I do not appreciate (especially now working in ICU) how sometimes bad shit happens to good people and you just have to accept it. I don't. I don't have the answers to life. I don't have the answers to what ails you and I have definitely not felt more stupid because I'm aware of what I don't know than what I do now.

However, I've gained a friendship and familiarity with a sister that I never knew before, I've had emails from friends I haven't spoken to in years, I've touched a few lives that I didn't think I'd touch, and I've gained an inner strength I didn't think I had.

BUUUUUUUUTTT, I have realised the importance of friendship. I had a friend tell me the other day (when I suggested I shut down a little because I didn't know who I could trust) that my openness was what ppl loved about me because as much as other ppl were selfish bitches they knew where they stood with me and that was a value that was understated.

So, my new years resolution - is to pay more attention to the ppl who I think deserve it, and listen to the patients who I think have more to say. I promise that 2014 will be the year that I feel I achieved something, and hopefully, that's another human life.  If it's not, then I hope it's filled with GENUINE friendships, and a love of life that I haven't really experienced before. Because there's some terrible shit out there folks. And if you're lucky enough not to experience it, then I hope you KNOW that you're lucky enough not to experience it.

Peace out you lucky motherfuckers. xo

Life throws you curveballs. Those balls suck ass.

So it's been a while since I've blogged.  Because I miscarried. On the 5th week and 4th day I woke up nauseous, with cramps and bleeding.  One day, after a positive pregnancy test and the whole life being planned of the baby we've so badly wanted.  About a week and a half before the pregnancy test I "knew" though. So let's go with one week and a few days of planning a baby's life before nausea/cramps/bleeding/baby dying etc.

I've just logged in, and half a finished blog about how excited I was to be pregnant was waiting for approval.  What's that guts? You needed another kick? Of course you did.

I'm sad. Like ridiculously sad. I keep it together the majority of the time, but there's just some times (like now) that I can't keep it in. Mostly because it's 330am I can't call anyone so I'm here blogging. Because sane that's why. So shut up.

Not dealing. No idea how to deal. Sick of getting told 'well at least you know you can pregnant'. Well great then! Hopefully I can lose like another 3 pregnancies just to make sure 'at least I can pregnant'. Hash tag fucking sarcasm.

So life sucks right now. And my husband tries his best to 'be there' and 'support me' and all the other inverted commas shit you can think of.  In his defence, he's tried his hardest but he doesn't get it. He probably never will. Mentally, I got it. Emotionally, weeeeellll.....

A week after I lost the baby he was all 'well let's go again'.  In all honesty I wanted to punch his fucking head in.  Because hormones and anger and grief get the better of me like 50% of the time and it mostly comes out as anger or tears. Neither of which my husband is greatly equipped to deal with.

I feel responsible, I feel like a failure (once again, get over it already right?) and I feel like I have let every single person in our life down.

So that's my last 4 weeks summed up. You caught up?  If not, here's a summary:

Ocsober - feeling great

Baby death

Anger

Anger

Drunk

Anger/Resentment

Drunk Anger

Drunk crying

Drunk sad

Anger

Sad

Sad

Anger

Drunk/Resentment

Drunk Happy LOL Jokes, drunk Angry all the time

Drunk

Angry/Drunk/Crying ALL THE EMOTIONS

Fabulous month. Oh by the way 2013, you can lick my balls, hope your 2013 boyfriend dumps you and then you can lick my balls again.

Have a great weekend kids!!

OcSober half way, Acupuncture & night shift. Golden combination....

So I'm halfway through OcSober! Yay! I've just finished a string of night shifts so I would gladly beat someone senseless for a Bundy right now and the fact there is only 14 more days until I can have one is doing nothing to quell my thirst.  My sister said to the me the other day 'with your luck, you'll find out you're pregnant on October 31 and won't be able to drink anyway!'.  Thanks, jinx! (But secretly wishing it would come true.)

OcSober has done nothing for my health despite taking liver detox tablets everyday and actually being pretty good with the diet thing.  Not so much with the exercise thing, but weight loss is 80% diet, 20% exercise anyway right?  Or in my case, 60% hormones, 30% diet, 10% exercise - that's my story and I'm sticking to it! Remember, i'm just off night shift so I will hurt you.....  I have gained weight, I'm still not sleeping any better and it's not getting any easier.  Cry me a river right?

Soooooo because the alcohol thing is a crock of shit, I decided to try some 'Fertility Acupuncture' today.  It was quite an odd experience, the chap comes highly recommended and I've never meditated before, but I had an 'experience' which made me feel more at peace and hopeful than I have in quite a while.  He also gave me some herbs to try, and at this point I'm willing to pretty much give anything a go.  I left feeling not better, but different. I'm choosing to see it in the positive.

Acupuncture was decided after reading a book called "Bump & Grind - The A to Z survival guide for when you're trying to get pregnant and sick of being told to relax" by Genevieve Morton.  If you are struggling to conceive, and you haven't read this book already, do it.  Seriously, here's the link.  http://www.amazon.co.uk/Bump-Grind-Z-Survival-Pregnant/dp/1905410883
This book was written TO me. TO ME guys. It was like she had gotten inside my head and was writing to let me know that everything I'm going through is completely the same as others who are also struggling to fall pregnant. I mean I always knew I wasn't alone. But now I KNOW.  I can't explain it.  Validation is a powerful tool I guess.

On the flip side, it also made me realise that maybe i'm not actually doing enough, and made me hell nervous for our specialist appointment next month.  For example, I haven't once taken my temperature.  A) because I don't own a thermometer but B) because seriously you have to take your temperature? WTF? I don't religiously piss on ovulation tests.  Mostly because my cycles are so irregular that it would cost me hundreds of dollars a month (or three) in tests because i'd have to test pretty much every day, for sometimes up to 10 weeks.  I also don't have our diet religiously planned out to ensure that i'm having fucking quinoa or some shit because it increases the likelihood of the production of blah blah blah.  I just figured, up the vegies, down the processed crap, watch the portion size = happy days.

But most importantly, this is the first actual book I've read on the subject. Don't get me wrong, I've seen enough web pages on PCOS and trying to conceive and blogs, that this blog should probably be a lot better than it is, but I've never actually read a book.  The picture she paints in this book is that I'm supposed to have a library of books, categorised by colour and number of tips and my genitals should have friction burn from having sex twice a day for the past year.

The feeling - inadequate. I've felt inadequate as a woman for a while now because I can't conceive, but now I also feel inadequate to be able to bitch and whinge about it too!  Like I haven't tried hard enough because I haven't gone gluten, dairy, carb, sugar, caffeine, and sanity free whilst also checking my cervical mucus 3 times a day and charting my temperature whilst exercising for 2 hours a day.  *sigh*

I can't win. I think I think too much, and my acupuncture today pretty much (in my head where I was thinking) confirmed this.  The needle that hurt the most and didn't seem to ever 'fade'? The one smack bang in the middle of my forehead.  Sign?

Anyway guys I've got to go and buy another 10 books to read asI molest my husband whilst cooking some berry oats.

OcSober - Week 1

Well, I made it! 7 whole days without so much as a sniff of a Brandy.  I don't drink Brandy, but that sounded a bit more flash than 'a suck of a black rat' (Bundaberg Rums cans are nicknamed Black Rats for those who are clearly not as classy as I).

I'm actually OK. Crisis averted. The images of me sneaking into an AA meeting in a hoodie and visor cap are slowly disintegrating and I think I may actually be able to go even longer than the month required for OcSober.

But on Day 6 I got struck down with a corker of a migraine. The whole shebang.  Loss of sight, unable to walk, neck and back feeling as though they were barely keeping my head up.  My first thought? "HOLY SHIT. I am ACTUALLY withdrawing from alcohol.  I'm a fucking alcoholic."  My 2nd thought?  "Don't be stupid. You know that the most of symptoms happen on Day 3 of withdrawal, and you also know your migraines are caused from muscles."  My 3rd thought? "I haven't had a migraine in ages. Maybe having a few drinks every few days keeps me relaxed enough to stop getting migraines."  My 4th thought? "HOLY SHIT. I'm a fucking alcoholic!"

On the downside, I have actually GAINED weight? Are you kidding me body???  My husband and I decided to do this a) for the health benefits, because in case you hadn't read any of my other blogs, we are trying for a baby and b) the weight loss benefits, that would ultimately, help us in our quest for a baby.  Oh and also helping charities and all that shit....

So that's a bummer. I'm really not sleeping any better either which I thought would be the first thing to happen.  Buuuut, I did go and have a blood test today (checking Prolactin levels, my last one in May was elevated. So yay for maybe having a pituitary tumour as well as PCOS!!) and I didn't have to worry about the results being 'not so accurate' because I'd had a 6 pack the night before.  So I guess that's a plus!

So all in all, this week has proved a couple of things to me:
1. I am not an alcoholic, I'm clearly a binge drinker. Difference ok guys?
2. My weight gain is not from alcohol and is most likely from the hormonal freakshow going on inside my body.
AND
3. My husband is a gem when I'm sick, and clearly loves being needed.  Needed to text people for me, get me pain killers, heat my heat pack and rub my back when i'm feeling sorry for myself.  Dah, I also just realised I missed out on a killer opportunity for him to sing 'Soft Kitty' to me! Dammit....

And again, if you don't think you could do the OcSober challenge and your drinking is harming yourself, others here's the ATODs link.
http://www.health.qld.gov.au/atod/

Ocsober.

So I've signed up to do Ocsober.  Granted, I signed up today on the 1st October, and I may have been hungover when I did it, but I did it.

Here's the thing, I love Bundy Rum.  Like a lot.  Like more than friend love.  I drink a 6 pack on my days off, about once a week, and sometimes I will drink more than that if I have a few days off and am feeling particularly happy/sad/depressed/excited/good about myself/bad about myself.

Yes, I do know that this is binge drinking. Yes, I do know that's not healthy. Yes, I am a nurse and realise what a hypocrite I am. No it has never affected my job and I do not drink when I have to work. Yes, I do probably do it to self medicate because for a good few hours I forget about the world's problems, and how stressful my job is, and how I'm not pregnant AGAIN. Yes, I have at times considered if i'm an alcoholic - a highly functioning one, but an alcoholic nonetheless.

So I not only want to to do this, for my health I NEED to do it. But I have very little confidence in myself. I am also a Jew (not just metaphorically, LITERALLY like 1/4 Jew on my Dad's side) so I'm hoping that the option of having to buy a $50 pass will turn me off having a drink. This will be the only option, because my guilt of having a 'sneaky' drink will eat my up from the inside out and I'm pretty sure it will make my breasts turn gangrenous and fall off and my cat will eat them while i'm sleeping.

So, tips on how to survive a dry month?  Aside from the obvious - signing up with a friend.  Already done. My husband didn't have a choice.  Well he did, he had a choice.  Sign up with me or he'd also be having a 'dry month', but not in the alcohol way. ;)

Oh and obligatory, if you or anyone you know struggles with alcohol addiction head on over here:
http://www.health.qld.gov.au/atod/

HOPE!

Hope.  Is there a greater word? I think not.  It gives you images of green grass, and children playing with bunnies and old people playing cards around a table laughing, and laughing and laughing.

I have an appointment with a fertility specialist.  Originally, thought I would have to wait 3 months.  Although it may not seem like much, after 12 months of disappointment, 3 months is a lifetime.  But it's only going to be about 6 weeks and it makes my heart sing.

So the catalyst, was after 9.5 weeks, 2 weeks of aching boobs, countless times of nausea and the 'feeling' that this was it, I got my period.  Yes, my poor husband did come out into the lounge at 3am to find me wasted and crying uncontrollably listening to Celine Dion (why Celine, why??) and I figured that I couldn't do this again so I made a Drs appointment.

So we have an appointment.  I feel sick.  I'm so nervous about finally getting some answers, but what if it's bad news? What if he tells me that my worst thoughts are true and I can't have kids?  Or what if he tells me what my Dr has told me all along and that it's just because I'm too fat?  I know it's stupid, but I have this deep down feeling that all those mean kids throughout my life were completely right and I'm just a worthless fatty.

What if it works though, and like my friend at work,within 2 months of treatment I'm pregnant with a child?  Like, a real human baby.  That I will have to mould into a human being.  Am I ready?  Are WE ready?  What sort of Mum will I be?  Can I handle it?  Can we afford it?  Will I be one of those people that uploads photos to FB every time their kid takes a dump?  Will I spoil them?  Will I be too hard on them and they grow up to be a serial killer???

My boss told me a couple of weeks ago that I was 'born to be a Mum'.  I was so proud.  But how do you tell if someone's 'meant to be a Mum'.  Do I have a vibe?  Or is it just the fact that I take the student nurses under my wing instead of throwing them to the wolves like I had done to me?  Do I give off a Mummy vibe?

The thing that sticks in my mind the most - is that there are people with REAL problems in the world.  There are people literally dying to get out of their countries, jumping on unsafe boats for the hope of a better life.  There are people living in tents in war torn countries, daily wondering if this day is their last.  But here I am bitching about not being able to fall pregnant at the drop of a West Coast Cooler.  I feel so selfish but I can't stop thinking about it.  It literally controls just about every thought I have during the day.

My best friend is pregnant.  She had hyperemesis for the first 3.5 months of her pregnancy and felt like shit.  She would tell me about how she was 'forced' to go on 2 weeks leave by her boss (she's also a nurse) and that being pregnant was the worst thing she ever did in her life.  I envied her so hard.  I would gladly give up every worldly possession I own and give up work for the chance of a baby.  But that makes me selfish right?  Should someone that selfish be having a child? Will I be able to give up the things I like for a baby? Will my husband and I kill each other from sleep deprivation?

Boils down to 'hope' right?  What do we have if we don't have hope?  Should I hope to have a long career, or good health instead of hoping to fall pregnant?  Should I hope to be able to live comfortably and go on long holidays?

Or should I hope that I continue to have a partner, who loves me so hard for who I am regardless of the challenges we are faced with and if a baby comes along then so be it?

I think I'll hope, that the next time he comes out at 3am and I'm crying uncontrollably, it's when I have a newborn in my arms, my nipples are raw and bleeding, I'm so sleep deprived I could probably get away with murder, and it's because I'm so unbelievably happy that there's no other way to express it but crying uncontrollably.

De ja vu

So I'm "due" tomorrow. For my Aunt Flo I mean, not a baby.

I peed on ANOTHER negative stick.  I think it's about the 6th for this month.  Because I've been nauseous for the last week, I was holding out great hopes.  But no.

The thing is, I started Metformin 6 weeks ago.  And according to my "Fertility Tracker" app, my 'aunt flo' last month came when she was scheduled. And it was the first time since we've started trying that I was actually happy to get my period. Because it was when it was supposed to be. And that meant, I might be regulating. And that meant that this month was 'the month' because when the app said I should be ovulating, I should be right?  The Metformin was working right?  Although I've felt like crap, and have had a couple of hyPOglycaemic events and had some major GI upsets, it's working right?  Especially since my beautiful, forever optimistic Dr had said "she had a woman in similar circumstances and she's just fallen pregnant" it meant I would too right?  Well wrong.

So you know what I did when that dreaded one line only came up?  I got drunk.  Even though, in my head, I'm still holding out the slightest of slightest hopes that all the people that have said "You know little James didn't show up on a stick until I was 8 weeks" and "those tests aren't 100% accurate" - I hope that they're right. But I KNOW that in a day or two, when I get my period, when I'm 'due' I'm going to burst into tears and be devastated, and holding out hope will only make that worse.

I know the nausea I've been experiencing, I've been experiencing ever since I started taking Metformin.  But this is different right?  It was totally morning sickness.  Even though I had absolutely NO other symptoms of pregnancy, it was totally morning sickness. TOTALLY.

The thing I forget? My husband.

Because the thing is, it's Father's Day here in a few days.  And I know, it's going to devastate him as much as Mother's Day devastated me. The Facebook feed of all the happy Mums with their presents and their burnt toast breakfast in bed.  And somehow I think his pain, is less than mine. Why? Because it's my pain and I'm a woman. And that's worse than his right?

He'll never know how it feels to have a life inside him. His sperm count was fine, so it means that I'm the problem.  I'm the failure in this baby-making relationship.  He has no idea.

But he does.  It hurts him.  And sometimes I'm so caught up in my own self pity and depression, that I forget that this affects him too.  He's ready to be a Dad.  He came home from work the other day in tears, because I'd greeted my pregnant best friend with 'Hey Mumma!' and he desperately wanted to call me that.  I had brushed him off, because he didn't FEEL what I felt.  He didn't know.

So the point of this (another huge) blog, was to get my feelings out about all the Wannabe Daddy's out there.  I apologise for all the other Wannabe Mummy's out there for sometimes forgetting that you're in this too.  It takes two to make a baby, and occasionally we are so focused on our own incapabilities that we forget that.

We love you.  We support you.  We are in this together.

If it wasn't for you, I would have the lost the plot a long time ago.  So thank you.

I KNOW I'm not alone.....

So help me out here sisters,

I'm a little bit tipsy, listening to Celine Dion's "A new Day has Come" and I'm feeling a little hopeless.  It's probably a mix of the Bundy Rum and the song, but hear me out.

I'm struggling to fall pregnant.  We've been 'trying' for almost a year, and it's getting to the 'affecting my mental health' and 'affecting my marriage' point.

I've been diagnosed as PCOS (that's Polycystic Ovarian Syndrome for those not in the know) which doesn't seem to make the fact of not falling pregnant 'easily' any better.  Especially when you have friends/sisters who say things like 'I was WAY heavier than you, with PCOS and still fell pregnant'.  I get a little stabby-stabby.

I'm overweight, but not what i'd consider 'holy crap! How are you even walking??' overweight, I drink, not to what i'd consider anymore than my friends, and I've given up smoking in the chance that i'd 'fall'.

But it's not happening.  And it's depressing.  I walk the shopping centres, and I see people fatter than me, smoking, and I think to myself 'oh yeah right, THEY can have kids but not you!'.  I'm a registered nurse - so I see people on my ward EVERY day who are IV drug users, who have so many complicated social situations where children should not be bought into, and they have children and I think 'Oh right, IV drug use, domestic violence, multiple husbands, that's OK, but you - you're fat, you can't have kids'.

I just hate it. And I've been told so many times 'just stop trying and you'll fall'.  I swear to God if I hear that one more time, I will go postal on someone.  Because when you want something more than you've ever wanted something in your entire life, and someone says 'just stop trying' it makes you see red. For real.

I've never gotten anything in my life that I haven't worked for, so I guess I'm not used to being told no.  I was brought up in a 'lower socio-economic' upbringing, where the favorite expression was 'sorry honey, we can't afford it' and that's OK. I learned the value of a dollar, and I've worked, I've worked HARD, for every single thing that I've ever earned, including my 2 degrees.  Including working 3 jobs at one stage, to pay the rent in a city that had the only degree I was working for. So I guess it's hard for me to get that I can't just 'want' to be a mum hard enough that it will happen.

What shits me off the most, is that since I've been so vocal about my trouble, many other people have also indicated that it wasn't 'easy' for them also.

Now, going back a little bit, the reason I 'HAD' to be so vocal, is that being a nurse, I work mostly with females, and once you're married, the typical question is 'so when are you having babies'.  It got to the stage that I was being asked at LEAST once a shift, 'are you pregnant?'.

Now, going off the pill - for the first time in 12 years, AND having (at the time, undiagnosed) PCOS, I put on weight, and put it down to quitting smoking and getting married and yedda yedda yedda.  But when a work mate walked past and rubbed my belly and said 'it's growing' (as in I was pregnant and she knew) - I lost my shit.  Not only because what business is it of anyone if I put on weight, but what right does ANYONE have to ask anyone else if they're pregnant and more importantly who RUBS someone's FUCKING STOMACH when they have no idea!?!?

Having trouble getting pregnant, when someone asked me if I was, and I had my period after waiting the like 8 weeks because of the irregularity due to the PCOS, I was pretty irrational, and it hurt.  So it got to the stage, where it had to be bought up in our team meeting, that it was impolite to ask if people were pregnant on the ward - because there were a couple of people having trouble falling pregnant.  And people got the hint, that I didn't want to be asked, and if they did, I would lose it.

Now, I have conflicted emotions, because I know I'm not the only one in the world that has had trouble falling pregnant, and I know that there are more serious issues out there in the world.  I have a pretty nice life now.  I mean I have a HECS debt that I would probably not pay off until my 60s.  I don't own a house.  I have credit card debt and 2 personal loans.  But I'm not on a Government pension, I have enough money to go on holidays and I am by no means below the poverty line - anymore.  I have what a lot of people would envy.

But I envy. And I know I'm not the only one.  I envy those people who 'complain' about their kids.  My best friend is pregnant, and has hyper-emesis. She's had 21 weeks of hell. She's had to stop work, because she couldn't stand up more than 20 minutes without being sick.  And I would swap places with her in an instant.  I would gladly give up work, and spew my ass out for 40 weeks, if at the end of it, I got a baby.

So the point of this (super long! I'm sorry) blog, is that I wanted to reach out to other people that are in the same situation as me. I wanted to let people know, that I feel like a failure as a woman and if there's anyone else out there that feels the same, you are not alone.  I want you to know that although we cannot sniff a bacardi breezer and get pregnant like EVERYONE ELSE (tongue in cheek don't hate me) seems to do, you are not a failure. You are amazing. And you have more to give in life than procreate.  Just like me.  Right?