squeefulfish

Right, well, I've now stopped happy-swearing about finally passing my finals. Yes, I know my genital tract sepsis alright. Which is a good thing, seeing as it's on the increase again (you know the way I've been shouting for years that women are going to die from understaffing? There's the proof. Women are dying from something preventable that would be more easily caught and very easily treated if only the staffing numbers were there.) Apparently I don't know my neonatal abstinence syndrome though, which confuses me as last time I answered that particular question I got >70, but never mind, will brush up on that again. Anyway, finals passed, very happy fishie is now glugging on some special mead kept for a special occasion. That'll do. Next, go back and pass two placements. Easy peasy. Then, RM and emigration. Gonna be a midwife! Eeeeeeeee!

Lovely, lovely weekend. Saturday was a lovely relaxing day, Martha turned 20 and there was cake and presents and joy and laughter and nieces and hugs and all the usual Saturday things as well as a quick visit to an old friend that cheered me up no end. And chips. Mmm chips. Sunday was many hours with wonderful company over hot chocolate and nyommy brownie. I seem to be having an awful lot of "wait, we've been here how long?" moments lately, which I can only put down to having had the sense to surround myself with some fabulous people. Some wandering in search of new yarn happened and though I went back again today to stroke it, I still haven't bought the gorgeous purple stuff. Can't remember what it was or who made it, but it's purple and... well, even if I bought it I wouldn't want to use it, it's that nice. A little pet purple tribble, that's what it'd be.

Got lost on the way out to Liz's new place as bus driver didn't know where I wanted to get off and neither did I. Much as I love Dublin, some bits of it are less than fun to walk around after dark when you don't know where you are. "I passed a shop a while back, no, I don't know if it was a Centra. I'm on... a road. There's no sign, there's a man doing something very illegal though, does that help? Oh, and my phone's about to die. I hope I'm not." Wonderful evening of food, drink, staying up way past my bedtime, conversations about midwifery, life, universe, everything and sex. Lots of the last bit. Talking about it, I mean. Two new kittehs for me to make friends with and some mead for the growed ups to make friends with.

Shopping this afternoon once I finally returned to the land of the living and more yummy food before wandering into town to chat with some guy who likes my booze and go see The King's Speech. Go see it, it's just beautiful and made me laugh quite a bit. Not exactly minor freaking out as I got texts asking how I'd done in the exam, cos I'd no idea results were out today. Got offered 30 quid for a blow job on the walk home from the bus in the thick thick fog. Recession's really hitting, it seems. I know I was offered at least 50 for the same thing a few years ago. Mind you, I was also younger then. Also, really, someone's walking along knitting, big bag on back, wearing docs and a scowl, what exactly made him think my services were for sale? My little mind, it boggles.

And now, seeing as I'm the happiest fishie in all of Christendom, I'm enjoying some sticky mead and an apple turnover and being very grateful for all my lovely friends and family. Life is good and I've passed all the academic requirements of BSc(A.Obs.) Score.

Waking up pretty soon after one in the bloody morning can only be a good thing, right? Thankfully, can feel the beginnings of sleepiness again so will work more on that. Dinner this evening revealed that we can now, for certain, add eggs to the "things that make Sarah explode" list. My face eggsploded. Eyelids so swollen I could only see through one eye, runny nose, runny eyes, runny other places that aren't face related. Thankfully no throat closing, as breathing is fun and useful. So at least not as bad as prawns. Kinda hoping this doesn't mean "eggs in cake" too, because that would be bad, if good for my ever expanding waist. But what the hell is it with getting older and suddenly not being able to eat things that you've eaten for 30 years? Bodies are weird. Great, fascinating things, but also very very weird.

Presented Niamh with the shrug I quickly ran up using thick, thick, cheap, cheap yarn from Lidl. There was quite a bit of bouncing and squeeing and then a request that I knit something else for her, some sort of badly described possibly cowl type thing. Lovely. Great that she loved the shrug, but I hate doing hobbies to order. It doesn't work. I get bored and start resenting that I'm not doing it just for the love of it. This is why I still have the netting for the skirt that Martha wanted when she was 12. Also, Martha is nearly 20. This has to stop, she's also not allowed graduate before me. That would be truly embarrassing. Oh, also also, she passed her driving test yesterday so now she'll be able to drive to placements in the back end of beyond. Hooray! This morning I was ceremonially presented with her copy of the rules of the road in a not too subtle hint that it's my turn next. Just what I need, another distraction.

More job hunting tomorrow, a few possibly interesting places are hiring and a few recruitment agencies are trying to grab us for commissions. So that'll eat up the rest of my time off before going back to work. Would like to have something lined up before May, but we'll see. Not making plans, I've learned about making plans and getting excited about them, far too many times. Will just stick with quiet optimism for the time being, while poking various people about where's nice to live in the UK. Suggestions?

Required: close to airport where I can get a flight to DUB, close to sea/pretty river, good bookshops, nice food, good touristy stuff (museums, galleries, ruins, churches, that sorta thing).

Desirable: close to airport where I can get a flight to ORK, not desperately understaffed hospital, staff accommodation (I'm lazy and like rent taken from pay).

This is kinda fun, am starting to see the positive side of moving away from Ireland for a while. Cos otherwise I start to cry at being forced to leave. So far four of my classmates have been made permanent, the others still languishing on three month part-time contracts and I'm still convinced I'm worth a lot more than that.

The Nurses and Midwives Bill goes before the Dáil tomorrow. Amendments were published today. The section of greatest concern to me, section 40, is to be amended but not in a way that's actually helpful for those of us who want to provide homebirth care or who want to birth at home:

"Prior to the commencement of section 40, the Minister will engage with relevant stakeholders on issues of concern including insurance cover for community midwives and the Memorandum of Understanding, while promoting safety and best-practice for mothers and midwives in homebirth."

Now, so far indications have been that Gardaí are relevant stakeholders (they'll be the ones doing the arresting, after all), but community midwives and service users aren't. Indeed, what confidence can anyone have in a Bill that hasn't been fully explored, where the issues that can potentially imprison qualified, professional healthcare providers for providing that service, haven't been discussed, haven't been sorted, where there is no mention of who the "relevant stakeholders" might actually be? This government is, as we know, in its last days and pushing this through before the country gets down to the fun of a general election is not right. We've waited 25 years for a new Act, it needs to be done properly or not at all.

Section 24 is also an important one. Originally this was to establish a midwives committee that the Board _could_ refer to on matters pertaining to midwifery, which would still have meant that midwifery was a sub-section of nursing despite the initial words of the Bill that "it is hereby declared and recognised that nursing and midwifery are separate professions." Under the amendments the purpose of the midwives committee is "to provide advice to the Board in relation to all matters pertaining to midwifery." The membership of this committee has also been changed from 2 midwives to five of the ten members, including one community midwife (no distinction between self-employed or state employed.) There has been no amendment to the requirement that an obstetrician is a member of the midwives board, however.

I've contacted my TDs over these amendments, they don't go far enough even after months of lobbying and submissions from actual stakeholders, both groups and individuals. Under this Bill, even with these amendments, I cannot do the job that the taxpayers of Ireland have been paying to train me to do because as it stands this is incomplete.

Starting to look as if I can't really afford the Glasgow nerdery, which is a bit of a shame but the more exciting one is in Galway in a few months. Galway one is all about waterbirth, which I'm not trained in at all at all. There was one one hour class on it in fourth year which consisted mostly of being shown videos of waterbirths. Of course, most of us were already familiar with waterbirth videos because there's this thing called the internet. I don't ever advise you to watch them in reverse though cos that looks yeeeowchy.

Waterbirth is something that I don't think I'd want for myself but by God do I want the option to be there and I want to be able to feel safe in providing that option. I don't see it being difficult or scary but I'd like to have a bit of training behind me before I do it, especially as the time is fast approaching where I'll be doing these things mostly on my own. Of course, that's assuming that they're ever allowed happen in Irish maternity hospitals ever again. Am unsure if the midwife led units are back using water again after the death of the baby in Cavan that led to the ban. Certainly, where I'm training has a birth pool, spent a fortune putting it in, reinforcing floors, installing a hoist, making the room well-equipped yet de-medicalised, all that jazz. And it's never, ever been used. The previous Master refused to even let women labour in it "in case they wouldn't get out when it came time to push."

The fight is still on over the Nurses and Midwives Bill. That problem hasn't gone away and I'm still waiting on a reply from our glorious leader Harney. The generic one that seems to have gone out to everyone managed to spell one of the Irish words for midwifery wrong, though, which says a lot about how much respect my profession is given here.

Home from Cork. So don't wanna be. Funeral tomorrow of a family friend and a feeling of imminent snow or at least more bloody cold weather forced my hand though, which is a real shame as I'd Plans for this evening in Cork. Grumble. Turns out I've another funeral to go to on Monday, my grandfather's sister's son. So, some sort of cousin, who I've probably met once but seeing as I'm the only one in the family who can figure out how to get to Griffith Avenue from Drogheda I'm going too. You may remember such fragments of posts as "Eva gets lost on the M1" and "Dad goes from Beaumont Hospital to Drogheda via Parnell Street." I can't even trust them to drive in a straight line without getting lost.

Think I left a bit of knitting on one of the buses, not even sure which bus I was on so many today. Well, three buses. Left Christian's at 12.30 for the 12.45 to Cork, 14.00 to Dublin was packed and arrived in at 18.55 making me sprint to the Custom House for the 19.00 to Drogheda. Deserved chips after that. I love Cork, but I dislike that getting there takes nearly a whole day. Trains aren't that much faster, not when you take into account the extra time getting to and from and between the stations.

Arrived home to parcels. That's this evening's entertainment sorted, at least. I'm already missing the nightly movies with good company and kittehs but it looks as if I'm going back again at the end of the month. It's almost as important as swimming is to my mental health. Swimming tomorrow after funeral. Mmm.

Off to Cork in the morning, staying up all night so as to make the 0800 bus from Dublin cos I want Cake. Also company, which is good and there is good company there. Hurrah!

Foul mood earlier went away briefly by ranting at Liz, inasmuch as you can rant over 140 characters. And now thanks to the same medium, it's back. Shite.

Overall, today is a meh, I guess.

Eeeee Christmas! I gorged myself on stuffings and roast potatoes, played a singalong game on the wii with the kids cos you're less likely to break hips when just singing, had one mince pie, watched Toy Story 3 (cried, cried lots, you bastards for not warning me I'd cry) after spending ages removing the security tag and did some more knitting (help) with Emma curled up on my lap wanting to know what I'm knitting. It's probably going to be a top for her, but daren't say anything until I'm absolutely certain I've enough yarn to finish it. And indeed, that I'll actually finish it anyway.

Emma had a Hello Kitty themed present day, Niamh a Twilight/Glee one, Martha's best present was college related (book about care plans and mental health) but she also seemed happy enough with Good Omens and American Gods. I reckon as presents from the godmother go, you can do worse than those two. It's been a fairly meagre year, in terms of money spent, don't mean we're not happy though. Only one argument, regarding privacy and 10 year olds. I think that it's perfectly reasonable to password protect things, other family disagree wanting to know why anyone would "want to hide anything from your mum." While I can sorta see their point, in my mind 10 is not too young to be looking for some privacy in communication. Am getting better at ignoring the eye daggers.

Oh yes, and after dinner I walked away from the kitchen and left everyone else to do the dishes. Best. Present. To. Myself. Ever.

Little sitting room is free so I might just nab it now for a bit of me and movie time. With maybe just a sliver of pudding and brandy butter. I've never had brandy butter before, this could be interesting.

Happy Christmas, y'all!

Solstice is as good a day as any to do this.

( This year over yet? )

I've been meaning to post about the MRI of a woman giving birth that popped up on the tubes a few days ago. And I can't, not really. Not without shouting, lots.

The idea, from what I can gather, was to try and figure out why babies sometimes get stuck. I think. Or it could just have been a "hey, our bioethics committee are all drunk, let's see what we can get past them this time!" thing. Now, here's a thing, the woman in that study was birthing on her back. First mistake there. Not being mobile in labour and birth, big bad idea, body moving makes the whole pelvis open up to accommodate that little human venturing forth into the outside world.

Secondly, they need to use a space in the middle of the word afterbirth. Cos otherwise what the captions read as is "placenta with placenta." But that's a minor niggle and one I'm going to graciously overlook now that I've mentioned it.

Thirdly, that looks suspiciously like a full bladder to me. It's more obvious in the after birth (look, ma, a space!) pics. Wanna know what else can slow labour? A full bladder!

Also, check out the fetching ear protection the staff have on. That's cos MRIs are bloody noisy. Clunk chlunk clink. Whrrrrr. Bang bang bang. Clunk.

And that, dear friends, is this morning's rant out of the way.

Bloody snow and ice!

Never mind all the hours I've spent clearing ice from the paths and road outside (the borough council having ever so nicely managed to do all of my estate bar the cul de sac I live in) leaving me with crampy crampy hands. One of my dearest friends has been admitted to hospital with something unrelated to weather and I cannot visit or even sort out getting a toothbrush to her!

Melt faster.