Some of this is serious stuff.

When I drive I think about stuff. Sometimes it scares me because I get to where I'm going and don't actually remember driving there. I drove almost two hundred miles for work this weekend. You know what that means? (Besides a potentially hazardous driver). It means I got lots of random time to think about random stuff.

Swollen ankles should be the least of a pregnant woman's concerns. (Unless retaining an unusual amount of fluid or in heart failure.) A swollen kershlopis is much more of an issue and no ones talks about that. It kind of irritates me that no one talks about the real physical, and seriously funky changes the body undergoes. It needn't be in a whiny, complaining way but in a "Dude, just so you know..." sort of way. It'd be much more helpful.

I don't care about being the nicest nurse. Nice nursing doesn't equate to good nursing. This, ironically, often makes me the favorite nurse. I'm not everyone's, but there have been plenty. It's the old, crusty, crochety ones that are my favorite to crack.

They say this labor thing I will experience in the next few months is some serious stuff. After hauling my car bag in and out I'm afraid my little dude is going to fall out. Um.. yeah. Going back to the edematous kershlopis. Mother nature has things covered. Nothing is going anywhere.

I saw someone hock a loogie into the drinking fountain at Bel Air- reconfirming to me why I have a "No Drinking Fountain" policy.

I don't understand the sign holders on the side of the road who dance while sign holding. Helloooo! I can't hear your music! Your jiggling is not only slightly disturbing but I can't even read the sign you're holding.

I heart lovely, gracious people who at the end of a visit where you've inflicted pain and discomfort in generous proportions tell you, "It's been a pleasure having you in our home." It makes me want to try and be more lovely and gracious.

Lovely and any variation of Grace (graceful, gracious, etc.) are adjectives not likely to be found on my tombstone.

I have a mental collection of patient's and experiences that have changed my life. Honest. No sarcasm. Someday I will write about all the cool people and things I've seen while in patient's homes. This weekend during a brief visit with a family I realized that to die for another person is not always the greatest sacrifice. Sometimes living and all the courage, pain, and sacrifice that brings is the greatest gift.

This weekend I really, really liked my job.