...

For some reason, he was seated backwards in his Volkswagen as it rounded the corner. That was odd for several reasons, not the least of hich was the fact he didn't own a VW and not the most of which was his foot was fully pressed upon the clutch and he had to let it go. several things went through his mind simultaneously.

1.) He needed to turn around and face front. There was no way he could drive seated backwards.

2.) When he let up on the clutch, the car was going to shott forward.

3.) There was someone standing in the street (God knew why) and he had to make sure the car didn't hit him.

4.) Why the hell was he driving backwards to begin with? It was a question for the ages, he supposed. A bollox. Why did he get into the car this way and how had he driven this far... well, thus far?

His foot lifted from the clutch and sure enough, he felt the transmission engage, sweeping the car forward. He turned the wheel, away from the man in the road, all the time looking over his shoulder and cursing the fact he was there. And then, he was twisting in his seat, intent on sitting correctly in the seat, realizing too late the car was veering off the road, was going to hit the curb and then a lower - he couldn't stop it and his heart began to race, to pound, the futility of it all, just let it go, just give up...

RAPE! RAPE! RAPE! RAPE!

His eye snapped open at the violation of the alarm as it tore, without a care, into his ear, into his head. It was true he'd set it to go off the night before but at that moment, he'd changed his mind. NO, his body shouted but still the screeching continued its intent. His mind stuttered, attempted to recover and was mercilessly bashed to-and-fro.

RAPE! RAPE! RAPE!

He rolled over, one hand lurching from beneath the pillow to still the aural attack.

He blinked and looked at the clock. 4:35 a.m. No sunlight shone in from the outside because it was dark, dark as night.

It was still night time but it was time to get up.

"Fuck.", he said, rolling onto his back, staring at a ceiling he couldn't see, feeling his heart rate slow. He was relieved - happy, actually - that he was not reaklly in a car about to hit a house or a person or whatever, but not so happy he was getting up to join the real world.

Work loomed in his future.

Work.

Yeah., he thought and swung his legs out of bed. He had a train to catch at 6:05.

And...

Eyes meet and questions bloom. What is happening exactly? What is going on? I would like to taste a woman's flesh, run my tongue along a neck, a throat, glide my lips over wet woman parts.

And another...

I would imagine most men have a sharp contrast / dichotomy of ideas and beliefs when it comes to their worth and affluence in the work place. I saw Molly at Beckett's on 5-12-08 and will likely see her and boy-friend Joe on 5-19-08 for Carolyn's going away party.

edit: Carolyn's going away party was for Paris and Molly was Brian's old room-mate. Took me a minute to remember that one.

String of dateless posts...

The alarm began to bleat like a stomped sheep...

edit: I dunno what this was about. Maybe the beginning of a story? Dunno.

And yet another dateless entry...

Long day today with a questionable look into the mirror. 50 year old, male RN working 60 hour weeks. 2 kids, aged 18 and 15. 18 year old was going to college, 15 y.o. in a private high school. Wife is a stay-at-home mom. Patient himself gave up drinking 6 months prior to presentation but seems to have a problem with both Perocets and oxycodone. Dude was manic when he got here, in my face, pointing hif finger at me - jabbing it actually, cursing, refusing procedure even after we'd made it to Bay 41. To complicate matters, the patient's brother was the mayor of a nearby town / city and apparently good friends with someone at the top / upper echelons of administration here at the hospital. Of course. Doesn't it always work that way?

It's pressure, of course. It makes things a bit more difficult. Add to that the side stepping of protocol by the docwho took charge of the case and suddenly, I have a labile, volatile manic man who doesn't want to be on the unit who is allowed to circumvent procedure because of his place in life coupled with his volatility and he gets to do this in spite of the edicts I started to lay down related to his stay in APS. It's already been decided he will stay - already decided he will be amitted - already decided he will be secured and locked in while simultaneously allowed to circumvent policy regarding the changing of his clothes all because he was loud and cursing and his brother was a mayor. And at that point, enough was enough.

Security was in speaking with him about behavior and I decided to end the difficulty. I went into the room and told him straight out that nurse-to-nurse, he came onto the unit where I worked and pissed all over it with serious disrespect to both me and our profession in general. We had a few words about doing our jobs and the fact that when patients came through and acted like ass holes, it made the rest of the job that much harder. He listened and he agreed, reluctantly. Then he changed and handed over his clothing.

Sure enough, he told me later that he had Percocets in his pants pocket and he wanted to know if they were still there after security put his belongings in the lock area. 1.) Opiate dependance, even in a well-functioning individual, trumps all other concerns. Initially, he'd told me he was prescribed Percocets but didn't take them. However, when the blood was drawn, he began to sing about both the fact of oxy / opiates in his system and later, that he had the Percs in his pants...

So, well functioning RN, husband, father - at least by his report. Wife and brother both telling me he was not at baseline. About 4 hours of sleep per night, loss of 32 pounds since January, huge spending on a new car for wife and 18 yo daughter, college at 52 G per year with 20G in scholarships. The sound of torture in his presentation, working to keep the family afloat, anger toward wife when he wanted to spend money and she wouldn't allow it. I really had a hard time separating some of the pathology from the overall story - probably because it so closely resembled my own life.

So, how is any of this important? Why does any of this matter? Two good questions and I have to wonder whether or not I have a viable answer or if I'm going to spit out a ridiculously overblown / over-thought / somewhat pompously and attemptedly introspective answer. Hmmm...

I guess it's important because it's a facet of humanity. It's important because his life story mimicked so much of my own. Busting ass to keep a family together is a truly difficult arena of life.

There's a fight in the bar right now and I'm distracted, so...

edit: Two women started grappling while I was writing, punching and yelling and what have you. The husband of one of the girls suddenly jumped up from the bar and grabbed the girl who wasn't his wife and that's when I jumped up and went after him. He saw me coming and let go, put his hands up and started saying, "It's cool! It's cool! She's ok, man. We cool? We cool?"

Stupid shit.

I told him to leave them alone to work it out or i'd fuck him up and he left while the two girls continued to yell at each other - without any punching. The girl he grabbed came over to me after to thank me (I was talking to someone else at that point who invited me back to her place and of course I couldn't go because I'm married) and then she bought me a drink. Whatever. I left soon after that anyway so I could head home. Chances are I had to work the next day...