I'm back at work half days on the floor and half days making phone calls.  My foot hurts but it's not terrible.  The podiatrist said it can take six to twelve months to heal.  I even went into the interventional suite for the first time in three months yesterday morning.  Of course, everything that could go wrong did, a wire with no luer lock on the casing, tiny veins, four pokes, bleeding post PICC insertion and a securacath that wouldn't lock to keep the line in place.  But we made it through and the patient and I talked about books the whole time.

A coworker of mine also works in one of the emerg departments in the city.  She was working triage last week and a guy came in by ambulance because he couldn't fart.  He had a bowel movement in the morning but felt like he had a stuck fart; but instead of driving to emerg, or taking a cab, he called 911 for an ambulance.  A fart.  It boggles the mind.  Another patient had a stuck butt plug which had to be removed and the patient left the butt plug behind, why?  

The older I get, the less I understand people.  

I haven't talked to my mother in law yet because I don't have a poker face and can't hide my feelings.  I've learned a lot about her this past month and none of it has been good.  My father in law is still alive, despite several brushes with death.  His mind is going but if we talk about the far past, he's pretty good, or at least nobody can confirm or deny his stories:)  He's a sweet, old man whom I shall miss when he's gone.

He has a mouth full of chocolate in this photo.  

Jack spent the weekend with his other side of the family at the lake so we had a free weekend.  We worked on the yard all weekend which was nice.  Got a lot of things done that had been neglected over the past year.  My tomato plants are doing very well.

Life continues on.  I feel restless.  Our holiday was not a holiday and both my husband and I feel put upon by everybody else.  We are both duty bound and put duty before pleasure, when in fact there needs to be a balance.