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Back from a few days of being cut off from the entire world in Kinsale, no tv, no radio, no internets, just phone and even that was mostly ignored apart from when I was either giggling about the big hard purple thing on my arm (I got bitten by a fairy) or stropping (ugh, sorry world). I thought it'd be relaxing, but I seem to have just gone fucking mental instead, needing to be rescued from myself and then throwing strop after strop. I'm at least partly blaming this possible bug that I possibly picked up from a niece, cos it's a bit unlike me not to eat everything in the world when I head down to the Capital of Noms. I didn't even go into the English Market. That'll tell you how sick I was feeling. I bought no Cake. I bought no sandwich for the buses from the lovely sandwich shop. I was really sick!

Now that I'm back I need to figure out who's in charge of things like health and safety and food hygiene in places wot cater for kid's parties as I found out on my return that some really, really disgusting things happened at a party on Friday. I'll not go into it, cos I've apparently been having even more trouble than usual with deciding just what might be too much information, but suffice to say that were I not already trying to stop myself from throwing up, this would have definitely made me feel very sick indeed. It really didn't help with feeling nauseous.

But in nicer news, months n months after starting knitting I've finally done my first scarf! It _wasn't_ my first thing, mind! (First thing being fingieless gloves, using double pointed needles for first time ever, cos why start easy?) Pretty black sparkley thing for Martha and now I want one for me too. Also made a sort of twisted cowl thingie for me and cast on for scarves for the kids. Help. Help me. Please. My sewing is suffering and I've two projects hanging on the wardrobe begging me to get out needles and threads. I am not the sort of person that you let loose with a new obsession, even if it's one I can quit anytime I want. Yeah... annnyyyytime.

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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.
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So, back from Galway where I managed to reset sleep pattern and am now busy breaking it again. Three days away from everything gave me time to relax and to think and seeing more of this utterly gorgeous country of mine is never a bad thing.

Exploring, eating, stuff and thinking. Lots of thinking. A little bit of plotting and planning. Oh, and I saw "Paul" last night which was good enough that I need to mention it. I know I missed a lot of the references, cos I always do first time round with Pegg/Frost stuff. But even with that I felt like the only nerd in the village when laughing or squeeing over some reference or other. Though that might be cos I was a good decade older than everyone else there so have different cultural references.

I did rather miss my bed, or rather my privacy. Suspect two nights is my limit now for hostel dorms but that might have something to do with that getting old thing and I can't complain when the two nights cost me a grand total of two euro (plus another two for the bus there and back.) People waking me up by drunkenly and noisily staggering in after 4 doesn't have the same appeal it once had and that never particularly appealed. Nice to get away but I grinned when I hit Dublin again so it's nice to get back, too. Especially nice to get back to a lovely evening of coffee and chocolate cake and conversation and "ah, sure I'll get the next bus." Twice.

Also arrived home with more yarn that I thought would make a lovely scarf for Martha as she's announced that she'd like me to knit a scarf with a hole in it. This might require her to provide some sort of photograph of whatever it is she wants me to copy/adapt, otherwise this could get messy. Turns out she doesn't want a pinky purpley scarf so I get one instead. Can never have too many scarves, I hope, as I've well over two dozen hanging on the back of the door. Some things just never get culled. Ties is another one, though I suspect dad's been stealing them as I know I haven't been wearing them much recently so can't have lost them.

Bit annoyed with myself for missing the protest on Wednesday, but couldn't be helped, needed to look after me for a bit cos if I don't no-one else will. I guess tomorrow's for catching up on things I missed while away from the world. Everyone still seems to be alive anyway, so that's all that matters.
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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.
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Once I get this lot of bottles out of my bedroom (please God, people, come and claim it, I need the space to sleep) I can get started on the next and probably final batch of mead. It's been a lot of fun over the last few years. My knowledge and laziness have grown in equal measure (records? Ah it tastes about 10%?) I like to think I do it ok, at least, people seem happy when I give them bottles of it. But all good things... So, this is the last batch for probably at least 3 years. I want it to be something special, something I've made before that I know I love. So I'm going back to the Super Sticky. Which means it'll be ready for drinking round graduation. That works.

Still a bit sad though, so I've been putting off the last brewday for a while. I don't want it to be the last one, even if it's just for a few years. I'm so sick of this long goodbye and I still hate that there has to be one.
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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.
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Managed to crawl out of bed this morning at seven after a measly two hours sleep. Simply could not drop off and kept waking up with bad dreams. Still, if a few bad dreams are the only bad things going on, life is good. And it really is good. Sure, there's stuff that I'm less than pleased about - having to leave the country to do the job I love is the biggest one of them - but I'm not letting it get me down. Genuinely believe that I'm experiencing the least bad PMS since I was on the pill 10 years ago, and they weren't even periods! Evening primrose oil, B Vitamins, exercise, daylight, porridge. Not sure which one (if any) is the biggest help, but I'm not gonna take any risks by excluding any. Not risking those Moods coming back.

So, full of coffee and porridge and happiness at surprising Christian by being awake and online at half seven, I pootled off to Ballsbridge to quiz secondary students on their research methodologies at the Young Scientist Thing. That was fun. Was truly impressed at the high quality of most of the projects and very happy to see the IBTS there with free pens. They do the second best free pens I've ever encountered and if there's one thing you learn bloody early as a student healthcare professional, it's which reps and the like give the best free clicky pens. Best pens from one of the antidepressant people reps, thankfully Martha is as shameless as I am in asking for moar free pens.

DART back into town, cos I love the DART. Some small amount of shopping, mostly for small consumables. La Senza sale provided some goodies as did Ann Summers sale later on in the day. Paying less than 40 quid for a bra that fits and is pretty is a Good Thing, so getting three sets for less than that was a Brilliant Thing.

Lovely late lunch with [livejournal.com profile] natural20, me emerging blinking, slightly sozzled and very giggly into the rain and wind after some time that was a lot longer than it felt. Failed to get material for the project I've got in mind, but it turns out that the sewing box will provide most of what I wanted and an old blouse that I don't mind chopping up will donate the rest. Talked Liz into visiting next week for an evening of mead, possibly movies and definitely meat and wandered home, happy, if limping slightly. Limping is unrelated to Liz, unless she's really magic.

I haven't had a day in Dublin of just having fun since just after my birthday in November. Two months is perhaps slightly too long to go before getting to do that again, especially as there's a chance of leaving the country in 6 months. Will have to make it up to Dublin again before the end of the month though because it's January and that means Turner in the National Gallery. I love that even though conservation and stuff has moved on since Vaughan donated the pieces they're still honouring the terms of the bequest that they only be displayed in January when the light is at its weakest. More fun ahead!
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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.
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I'm so amazingly excited about my super secret nerdy present for someone that I just might explode before I post it. My hands are cramped from many, many hours of knitting today and my eyes a bit tired from checking the patterns and occasionally ripping back because of miscounting. Found the missing piece from yesterday hidden in new bra. Sales good, 1euro bras bestest thing evar, industrial strength underwear is not cheap!

Did also discover when trying on the rest of the sales purchases that I'm a lot fatter than I think I am. I don't generally try on clothes, except bras, before buying. I hate clothes shopping enough without adding that particular torture. So it came as a bit of a shock to find that really, am a -lot- fatter than I think I am. This seems to crop up every so often and it's not that I don't see myself in the mirror every so often, just that I'm genuinely comfortable in my skin. Sure, could do with losing a few tens of kilos, but a size 16 is about the smallest I'll ever be, what with these hips and other bits. Strangely, still the same back size as I was when I was 17, though have gone from a then DD to now G. Was a 16 when I was 20 and I looked bloody hot. Course, I know I am now, too, which may not be the biggest help when losing weight should be a health issue rather than just to feel good about myself. Must work on that. Not quite sure how, though.

Of course, another thing that's not going to help with this is discovering what the ingredients for Cake are. Some experimenting in the kitchen may need to happen.

But first, sleep, then more knitting.
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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.
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Am in Kinsale again! Arrived down in time for Cake the other night, or would have if there had been any Cake available. Next Cake is due Thursday. Do I have enough clean clothes to stay down until then? Hmm, no, no I don't. Oh well, stinky Sarah will get Cake.

Went out for dinner the night I arrived. Christian drank water and ordered a small Thai curry while I ordered a pint, fish n chips (hyoooooge portion) and the bill. Guess who got the things I asked for? Not exactly impressed there though the food was tasty. Apparently girls don't drink beer or buy dinner.

Kicked off the new year with fireworks and joy and giggles and steak and lemon cake and a new fwiend and booze and an awful lot of fun. I'm very lucky to have some wonderful people in my life who make me laugh. Possibly laughed more than I should have at mishearing "Blás na hÉireann" as "blossoming heron" and wondering what herons had to do with lemon cake.

Today was a lazy day of movies and hot chocolate and catching up with gossip and trying to make some more and a whole lot of meat.

2011 is already going very, very well indeed. 2010 is dead, hooray!
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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.
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Today Emma's wearing one of the outfits I bought for her for Christmas. She looks adorable and better dressed for the weather than her daft auntie. Family keep muttering about how "big" she is and she is tall for her age - when she stands beside her sister you wouldn't guess that there's five years between them. And yes, she's heavy too, but it's mostly muscle cos the child is STRONG. Like I said, strong, not many five year olds can lift their grandfathers.

And I've so many issues with weight loss and food (being put on your first diet for non-medical reasons at the age of 10 might do that to someone) that I really don't want to see Emma getting any of that nonsense, especially not at her age. She did start comfort eating last year, for entirely understandable reasons, but unlike me her comfort food is fruit!

Anyway, Emma looks gorgeous and the age 9 clothes fit her well, especially in the length. Tops cover her belly, trousers likewise. Am bloody overjoyed that neither of them have bought into the "girls wear pink" nonsense and like to wear trousers from the "boys" section cos they don't fall down. Trousers cut to sit on hips only work when you've developed hips to hold them up. If even then.

Did have to retreat to bedroom after another argument about age appropriateness, though. Niamh begged me for the New Moon DVD. I hate Twilight, hate the message it sends. But I figured at least if I got it for her than I'd be in a better position to discuss it with her, she's remarkably sensible for her years anyway and it'll make a good base for comparison with Buffy for when we start on that :) So I bought it. Rated 12s, she's 10 but just in case it wasn't going to be appropriate I watched it before giving it to her. I've no problem with them seeing things that are rated higher than their years as long as I know what they are. Hell, I grew up on a diet of Hammer Horror and Hitchcock from about 7 on, many of which were rated 18s. And I turned out juuuuuust fiiiiiiine thank you. (Quiet down the back.) Apparently it's inappropriate for her age according to people who are not her parents, her parents agree with me and were happy enough. And that's enough for me. I've years of practice at this sort of thing, Martha has been my censorship guinea pig for nigh on 20 years and she turned out more than ok. Hmmph.

So now I'm hiding in my room again, rummaging through patterns trying to decide what to knit for baby of J, drinking coffee and trying to remember that it's the season of goodwill to all, even Daily Mail readers.
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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!
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I have to say, I did not see this one coming. The Department of Health have announced that student nurses and midwives will not be paid for their internship from the 2011 intake on. Those already on the courses will receive less than they were promised when they took the offers of the courses. When applying for these courses, it was on the understanding that come fourth year and internship, we'd receive 80% of the first point of the INMO pay scale, approx 17k for 9 months (plus unsocial hours premium payments where applicable.)

Now, if someone leaves a course and decides to do something else at college because the goalposts have shifted so significantly that they may not be able to afford to continue their studies, they'll have to pay full fees. As well as the 2 grand a year student registration charge. Or, they could continue in their studies, if they have a very understanding and financially supporting family. Because you need someone to back you financially when you're working a full time job, working nights, working weekends and not getting paid a penny for it.

Without my pay while on my internship I could not have afforded to do this course at all. I'm far from alone in that. I was able to borrow money to pay the registration fees and my bus fares on the understanding that once I was earning in fourth year I could pay it back.

To say that I'm angry is an understatement. This government have repeatedly shown that they have no respect for my profession. They've threatened to put me in jail for doing my job, they've not let me do the job I want to do and now they don't want to pay mine for working to save lives?

Fuck you, deputies, fuck you.
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Solstice is as good a day as any to do this.

This year over yet? )
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I rather enjoyed today's exam. Once I got to the venue and discovered that yes, my name was on the list and yes I didn't have time to pee before going in and no, I didn't have my bottle of crankberry juice on me after all. Am going through a horrendous UTI, started a few days ago with pain similar to last year's kidney stones, vomiting n all. Then sometime last night it decided to migrate to my back and hence, actual kidneys. If there's one thing having a post-nephrectomy sister around has taught me, it's don't mess with these things. While I'll gleefully ignore advice to go see a GP when it's my tonsils that try to stop me breathing, UTIs aren't to be ignored, despite the having to figure out how to get to GP and how much he's charging now.

Anyway, exam went well. Question one is compulsory, babies, choose a or b.
a) A baby, born at term, develops jaundice within 12 hours of birth [abnormal abnormal awooga awooga!] Discuss the care and management that this baby blah de blah following 48 hours. [Didn't do this, pathological jaundice isn't interesting enough for me, not when I have:]
b) A term baby on the postnatal ward is showing signs of Neonatal Abstinance Syndrome at 8 hours old. The mother has a history of methadone use and heroine [sic] abuse during pregnancy. Discuss care and management blah de blah next 72 hours. [I freakin' love NAS! I really, really do! It's really interesting, cos signs appear at different ages depending on what the baby's withdrawing from and then you've got all the fun drugs to play around with like morphine and all that wonderful looking after the mammy and eeeeeee! I don't get to do it in real life, cos admit admit admit NICU but hey, I know my shit I do.]

Other questions on complications associated with multiple pregnancy and care of woman in labour with twin pregnancy (first twin head down, no information on twin II) and then my tasty, tasty genital tract sepsis. Fun fact kids, childbed fever, puerperal fever, has overtaken all other causes of maternal death. This is something that's easily diagnosed and easily treatable but as caregivers we've gotten complacent about it, sure that's only something that happened before we had antibiotics. Yes, but it helps if you actually give the antibiotics. It's an amazingly serious development because it reflects just how busy maternity units are and how basic care can be so easily overlooked. This could actually do with a whole, preferably coherent, referenced post on its own, but I'm tired and excited.

And now I can read for fun! I've got that lovely Kitzinger book waiting for me, after all. Nyom. Oh, and go me!
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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.

moar snow

Dec. 6th, 2010 10:04 pm
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A few days ago I shoved a 12 inch ruler in the snow out the back garden so I could watch the snow rise and rise and rise and, er, now I can't tell where I put it. There are some magnificent fake icicles hanging from various arches and wooden structures out there too from where spider webs got covered in ice and then snow. Last night was very, very cold, the air sparkling with, er, weather stuff? Ice? In the air? I don't know, it was pretty and I got distracted by the pretty.

Family have experienced my wrath a couple of times today, apparently removing boots and shoes when coming in from the snowy wet is too much to remember so the floors got horribly soggy and dirty. I've still no footwear suitable for this weather as I've barely left the house since it started. This means that getting to Dublin tomorrow might be difficult for a) a pre-exam revision session and b) visiting the incarcerated one who looked after me and fielded calls from me ma when I was under GA earlier in the year. We'll see how the weather misbehaves overnight before I make any decision but I do so want to go visit. If I can get to the train station here it'll be fine, as the Luas goes relatively close to where I need to be anyway. But again, we'll see.

And now, it's time to bake some beer and cheese bread and make a giant vat of soup to go with it for lunches. Nyom.
squeefulfish: (Default)
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.


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November 2012



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