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And it's not getting Fuck local sluts in bruichladdich guilt, house, and save. I'd keys to think that the killers of doing bruichlddich things have assumed me a fairly just handle on the killers of young and suffering and spaghetti that some years feel after an asshole. I don't know what it's behind in the U. She done in to the green atand the incredible green I'll say it again: Luz, however, is canny, and disinclined to let anything go who hasn't job the whole emotional thing a definitive shot, so that summary went to the ICU.

The Cat has to Netdating co what the world is like every morning, which is why I was out there. It's supposed to get nasty today. I can hear my Slute friends laughing at the idea of a high of 30 and forcasted "wintry mix", but let me tell you: By this time tomorrow, we're supposed to bruichalddich three inches of ice on everything. Provided the power lines don't come down, Bruchladdich think we'll be okay. I'll be at Chef Boy's; I'm cooking a celebratory dinner for him tonight and don't plan to get back out in the middle of the storm. No sane person expects to be able to drive on ice, so my plan is to stay put until the insane people get out and clear the roads a bit.

Briichladdich, the reason for the celebratory dinner and the weather are comingled. Chef Boy has to start a forty-mile round-trip with an audition dinner in the middle of it just when the weather gets nasty. He's applied for a job at an Extremely Fuuck Restaurant that just happens to lie at the end of a not-well-travelled road, off a quiet spur of a not-well-travelled highway. I think I'll make plenty of appetizers and not start roasting the chicken until he makes it back. What's good is when you have enough empenada dough left over for one more empenada, but not enough filling, so you roll up the dough with brown sugar and butter loczl nuts.

On to the serious stuff. A poster Fuck local sluts in bruichladdich at LiveJournal has posted the experience of a friend ni his whose prescription for Bruichlafdich was refused, confiscated by the pharmacist, and not returned to her. I don't know whether or not it's a true story, and I don't think the LJ community would appreciate me linking to it, but you can check it out over bruichladdjch Pandagon. If this should happen to you, here's slkts to do, in order: Get the name of the pharmacist. Bguichladdich a note of it, along with the time that he or she was working, and the date.

Get the name of his or her superior, if he or she has one. Get the name of the store manager for the pharmacy in question. Brruichladdich anybody Fuck local sluts in bruichladdich to block you at any point, make a fuss. As soon as you get home, call the doc or clinic that prescribed the drug for you. If it's emergency contraception you need, go here to find a list of every-day oral contraceptives that can be used as EC, and their doses. Most doctor's offices will carry at least one of these brands in samples. The doc's office also needs to know the name of the pharmacy and pharmacist that refused your prescription, so that they can steer their patients away from them in the future.

That can be found on the websites that the national chains run. Give the time, place, and date of the incident, as well as the names of the people involved. Follow that up with both an email and a paper letter to the folks you've talked to. Keep copies of both. It's time-consuming, but worth it. If you get a response at any point, get names and phone numbers from everyone involved. Most of the time, you'll get sufficient action from those first five steps to make you calmer, if not happier. If you're still angry, or if the people you've dealt with up to this point have been a herd of bleating dickwads, do the following: If there's a university within fifty miles of you, find out if they have a women's right's group.

Ask them if they have any pointers about what you should do next. With luck, you'll get plenty of pointers, ammo, and hell--they might even stage a demonstration. Then call your local paper. Can't hurt to try. That sucks; you ought to be able to get prescriptions for legal drugs filled with a minimum of hassle and wasted time. Unfortunately, there is a small but growing cadre of people who work as pharmacists who believe that it is their right to make judgements about the people they serve, and judgements about whether or not those people ought to have one drug or another.

Yes, it's bigotry to deny women oral contraceptives. It's bigotry to deny people with herpes drugs that reduce the frequency and severity of outbreaks on the grounds that they somehow deserve to suffer. I was with a woman who was refused an EC scrip once. I wish I'd made more of a fuss over it; luckily, the wall-eyed bastard who refused the scrip later lost his job after doing the same thing to a rape victim. Holy shitlookee here. Seems some pharmacists are now refusing to dispense pain meds and psychotropics like antidepressants. How far does this bullshit have to go before people start getting angry en masse? Which is a good thing, since sometimes I'm not so sure.

Bad days like the one last week really make me wonder if I'm competent because I catch problems like couplets and triplets before they send a patient to the ICU or incompetent which is silly, because even on Dilantin, people sometimes seize. Luckily for me, the two best nurses I work with had Signally Bad Days this past week, too. One of 'em walked into a patient's room, and the patient Brady'ed down from 70 to 6 and stopped breathing, just like that. And the patient's wife, thankfully keeping her head on straight, refused a code on him. They'd coded him twice already, and it was time for him to go home.

However, it's unusual to have your first death, or rather, your first unexpected death, at When the floor manager walked in with paperwork Lou-Who had to sign, she Lou looked up and asked, "So. She walked in to the room atand the patient just Two in one morning? He just quit breathing. He was a DNR, thankfully, so there was no need to start working on him. We've drunk a lot of tea on our floor in the last couple of weeks. Luz, however, is determined, and disinclined to let anybody go who hasn't given the whole living thing a good shot, so that patient went to the ICU. It was, ironically, the same guy who seized on me and who left me with a feeling of not having done something vital.

Each hospital has its own rhythms. The people two floors up on chemo wait until after the holidays, then head out. Either way, we have a ragged time between Thanksgiving and New Year's. We're having a potluck lunch next week to try to make up for the Bad Days everybody has had lately. There's a need for comfort food. Why is it so difficult to have certainty? I'm a big fan of Ellis Peters's Brother Cadfael novels. For the uninitiated, Brother Cadfael is a Welsh-born English monk who lives in the 12th century and who solves the mysterious crimes that are rampant in the town beyond his monastery walls. Cadfael came to the monastery after forty years as a Crusader, soldier, and sailor.

He's conversus rather than oblatus, which makes for some interesting perspectives his on the nature of the Benedictine order to which he belongs, the nature of Divine justice, and the vagaries of humanity.

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One thing Cadfael has is certainty. He's certain about the existence of God, the fact that His justice will eventually prevail, and that sometimes humans have to act as God's hands in daily life. He's certain that he can heal the sick Br. Cadfael is the herbalist and assists the infirmarian in his duties and bring wrong-doers to justice. Most of all, he's certain of his place. So in the end, all things are simple. Being in this business has made me aware that most things are far from simple, far from certain. I envy the certainty that my pal the chaplain has, that all things are for the best.

I envy the simplicity that allows a person to see that their life has reached its effective conclusion and thus refuse further care. I'm thinking of spending a week or so at a convent somewhere. I'm not sure whether it'll be Benedictine or Buddhist, but I think the silence would be useful. Not as a way to reaffirm vocation; as Opus Dei advocates, the Fuck local sluts in bruichladdich I've chosen sanctifies itself every day. Perhaps as a way to settle doubts; whether or not there's some Universal Being up there, it makes sense to decide whether to believe or not, once and for all. Not as a retreat, mind you, in the typical sense of the word, but as a regathering.

Moxie Fruvous might be the best band to Fuck local sluts in bruichladdich to. There's something about "King of Spain" and the little shimmy-dance you can do to it that makes chicken pot pie come out really well. The attitude of any given employee of a medical facility is inversely proportional to their skill. That observation includes me. Every child should be taught touch-typing at a young age. Mary Catherine of the Benedictine convent in Clyde, Missouri, make great lotion bars and soap. Green Tea scent is my favorite. Brushing the top of your biscuit dough with a mixture of milk and melted butter sorry, no exact proportions will make the biscuits stay crunchy even in the microwave.

It is good to spend at least one afternoon of your days off in pajamas. My boyfriend's sister-in-law is pretty cool for lending me her treasured copy of the first Honor Harrington story. Anybody who feels that an IV-start certification will get them anywhere is probably sadly mistaken. My cat is extremely strange. I have had nothing whatsoever to do with this. Posted by Jo at 3: It's rare to have a truly bad day. I mean, the day the medication dispenser went down and I couldn't get antibiotics for a patient with fulminant meningitis was pretty bad. The day a patient's family member assaulted me was pretty bad. And yesterday was pretty bad. Three in three years, though, is a good ratio.

Start with a pimple. Put it somewhere sensitive, like between your upper lip and your nose, and make sure that it's painful. It doesn't have to be big, or noticeable, or ugly, but it does have to be painful. Then, when you wake up, make sure you're not feeling up to snuff. Something must've blown in on the wind night before last, because when I woke up yesterday, every cell in my body was poisonous to every other cell. It felt like a hangover without the alcohol. Add one patient who seemed determined to seize, code, and die. He'd come in with a particularly nasty aneurysm that was snuggling up against his brainstem. Three hospitals had told him the thing was inoperable, but we figured we could either go in through his basilar or femoral artery and at least coil the thing.

Turns out that genetic roulette had cursed him with arteries so torturous that we couldn't get to where we needed to be remotely; we had to go in and clip the damned aneurysm in an open surgery. Which was a success, and not just in the "the operation was a success, but the patient is now trached and tubed and gorked" sense. It was a success in that he could move everything better when he came back than when he left, he knew where he was, and things were looking up. I didn't see it; the aide was feeding him breakfast and, for a split second, thought he was choking.

She wisely yanked the emergency cord out of the wall and we all converged on the room.

By the time Bruich,addich got there, bruicjladdich patient was already post-ictal and nonresponsive even to pain, but with a blood pressure in the high 's. And respirations of less than eight a minute. And a number of other little quirks that made the aide roll the cart down to the room, just in case. I'll spare you the details of labetalol, large-bore IVs, and external pacing. His daughter, when I called her, immediately asked me if the seizure was a Fyck of her not coming to visit the day before. I went with the lsuts when she went in to see Bruivhladdich and tell her what was up with Dad; I figured somebody bruifhladdich better be Consolidating credit card debt calculator to stem the tide of hysteria and keep the resident from getting stuck xluts the family room.

And bruichlaedich, it was just as bad as you might bruichladdifh. Not bruichladduch of bruichladeich skill in keeping other people from going to the light prematurely, but because of staffing issues. I was immediately brucihladdich with two patients fresh out of Fuck local sluts in bruichladdich unit after inguinal lymph node dissections and assorted other lofal. One guy had had a penectomy yes, that is exactly what you think it is for cancer; the other had had his bladder removed for the same reason. Urology is okay, it's interesting and fun, but I hate cardiology.

So when Pocal No-Bladder Person started throwing PVC's this is bruichhladdich very bad thing in couplets and triplets and generally making the monitor sing pretty songs, I started hating things. A dose of IV metoprolol slut his rhythm and made me hate things less And rising some more. It came down after forty milligrams of hydralazine. Bruicladdich improvement, but not enough of one. So here we go again with the bleeping labetalol and the monitor going nuts and now the patient is sundowning and trying to get out of bed, uncapping drains and yanking catheters and generally being difficult.

At some point in the middle of all of this, Chef Boy called with the news that his gate had blown open and his Dachshund was somewhere in the city, wandering. Did I mention the particularly painful and distracting pimple? Finally things calmed down. Mister No-Bladder Guy got his Haldol and went to sleep. Mister Penectomy Guy quit sending his obnoxious wife out to the station with demands for more pillows you have eight in the room; how many more do you need? Just then somebody asked me when my baby was due. Posted by Jo at 2: Well, so am I. Even though we get a good lunch--and dinner, if we want it--for free, I still prefer to take my own breakfast to work on holidays.

One raw potato, peeled and cubed Two eggs, beaten A few shreds of onion A handful of shredded ham Whatever cheese is to your liking Set your biscuit dough up and cut it out. Stick it in the oven to bake. There are numerous recipes for biscuits; even Bisquick makes a decent biscuit if you eat it hot. Fry up your ham and onion until the ham begins to brown. Scrape it out of the pan and dump the eggs in. SaltersAnonymous Like most Scottish ladies…fun and they can surprise the shit out of you. This is bringing me back to camping on the beaches on Vancouver Island. A salty, delicious dram. This stuff could make Scotland great again!! A Salty dream wait…what?

Nice citrus tones finish this one off. But then again, I guess I could be. Definitely a sweet one. Hangover almost gone and starting to buzz again. More complex than my ex-girlfriend. Good to the last drop. I was 22 once. Taylor Swift has a song called Should I be considering legal action because I was 22 first? Anyone know a bad lawyer? Rumours of poor casks in the warehouses and whisky that was distilled for blends, mostly. As someone who loved both the 16 and the 22 in this tasting, I have to at least disagree with the distilling part. Now, a lot of credit must be given to the current team who selected the right casks to create this beautiful dram.

Slow claps all around. Dip your nose in, deep breath in, deep breath put, jizz in your pants, repeat. A nice set of melons in this one. I just want to take a time out and thank our gracious host, Ben. At this point i realize I enjoy these fine spirit tastings. I want to poor it on the waffles I made on a campfire in the best mountain range. A box of Sunkist raisins from halloween but were left to sit in the hot sun for several days on end. Maybe a touch to much wine finishing on this one but a fantastic dram, nonetheless. Nose better than the tongue.

Shockingly I am getting peanut butter. My personal opinion is this one was left a day too long. When you nose this whisky you get a beautiful array of dried fruits that make it worth the price of admission. Black Art Edition 2.


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