Upon further inspection

A picture to follow soon, but I must share our discovery of the evening. This year Momma Duck has not been sitting on her eggs during the day. Each morning there is simply another egg in the nest. We got home late tonight and Momma Duck was here. She hissed at us and acted like we hadn't done this last year. But then, I got down near her level and gasped. We did this last year, but I'm pretty sure it was not with this Momma Duck. After taking a picture of Momma Duck on her now at least 11 eggs we are shocked. I'll upload a couple of pics for comparison later, maybe she has changed. But for tonight, I'm thinking this might be Momma Duck the sequel.

Ordinary day

I spoke to my mom in the morning. Went to a meeting for work. Picked up a new orientee for hospice and drove her all around to see patients. Did some paperwork. Looked at Natalie's school stuff. Fought traffic. Watched people mowing their grass. Looked as a young woman struggled to carry an infant car seat up a flight a stairs. Played with kids.



Sandwiched in between all this ordinary stuff, I was in and out of one of my youngest patients home. I needed to assess his orientation. When I asked him what day it was, he barely opened his eyes, but gave a big smile. "My wedding day." And, he was right. They moved the day closer, per his request. He is not well. And, I, wonderful little me, had to talk with him about a do not resuscitate order on his wedding day. His bride and mom sat with us while he signed it. His little boy ran around the room. People were hanging balloons while my nurse hung another IV bag of pain medicine. Somehow, I don't think this is how he pictured it all to be. His grandfather came in and sobbed. His dad and other family members looked at me and said, "we have to stop meeting like this." Because of other times and other patients, I'm sure I look like the angel of death to this family.



I left to meet the doctor. That's when I fought the traffic, watched the people, and wondered at the amazement of ordinary life. People in this line of traffic are acting as if their life hangs on the balance of the next red light. I see his bright yellow DNR on my seat. I'm sure I'm the only one in line who is in an actual life or death situation and I'm not in any rush. By the time I get to my doctor, I'm tearful. She knows me well enough to know this is no ordinary day for me. She signs DNR, offers words of encouragement and tells me to go home soon. By the time I get back, they are married and he is sound asleep. Family is lingering by his bedside with his new wife curled up next to him. I give some final words to the continuous care nurse and make my own nurse leave. We didn't realize any family members were outside, so they saw us when we both started crying. Some days, some times, it is too much.



The family came running to us. "Is he okay?" I manage out that he is sleeping. Then one of them says, "it's kinda nice to know you all cry too."



Of course I cry. Not all the time, not even on most days with very sad patients.



But today, well today, is just no ordinary day.