Before the evening got started I was chatting to Sandra Phinney who is a writing instructor and she was telling us she’d just returned from a 10 day press trip to Jordan. I said “as in the Middle East with Queen Noor?” thinking she couldn’t possibly mean just Jordan Falls in Shelburne County. And she replied “yep, that one”. It seems she belongs to a Travel Writers Association and was matched with a representative from that country and was invited on a trip to this amazing country. It’s very safe, interesting etc. She flew on the inaugural flight from Montreal to Amman and although it was lengthy, it was direct. Talk of camels, Bedouins, mining phosphates, etc. transported me to this exotic locale in my mind. Memo to self: time to get your act together missy and become a travel writer!
I traveled to the district facility today and did both Occupational Health and Infection Control orientation sessions, grabbed a quick lunch and helped with an immunization clinic at the attached nursing home. We managed to catch up with 55 staff so not too shabby for just two of us.
When we arrived at the staff room to begin the immunization clinic there were several female nursing staff, known to the local OHN and a male we didn’t know. We began drawing up vaccine and he asked if he “needed a booster” He was assured he was in the right place, handed a consent to read and sign and we started with the nurses. In retrospect he did ask a couple of odd questions and seemed a little slow but it was busy and one or the other of us answered his queries (we have the answers down pat after six weeks of this vaccination purgatory) as we worked and moved him along in the process. The other OHN gave him his shot and when we more closely examined his consent form he had filled it out in great detail, signing in several places (including that of vaccinator) and had reversed several of the letters in both his first and last name (as kids often do when learning to print). Oh my goodness I say to the other OHN, he must be dyslexic. We decide at this point to find out who he is and as we question more and more of the staff we begin to get alarmed that he might not be staff but a resident from the attached mentally challenged facility. I tell my colleague that I’m glad she did the actual shot as she’s closer to retirement than me. We’re relieved when one of the nurses from the residential facility assures us they have no resident with his name. After returning to the office we discover he’s a new employee so unknown in the system yet. Whew.One of my nursing school classmates who has worked in the hospital we trained in since we graduated attended and I assured her that I’d improved in my vaccination technique immensely since she’d seen me do the first one in 1974. We had to practice injecting water into an orange and then when deemed ‘ready’ by the instructor we each had to draw up a syringe of sterile normal saline (salt water) and give each other injections in the deltoid (muscle in the upper arm). I’m sure there’s a law against it or a human rights challenge now but it was a powerful experience and one I have long remembered. The way it felt when you received the shot, how nerve wracking it was to give one to someone you knew while being watched by an eagle eyed instructor and how awkward you felt (because you were). My partner gave me mine and did fine. When it came my turn I did okay until I actually had to insert the needle into her arm. We had been taught to dart quickly as this was less painful and my brain told me to do that, but my hands just refused to actually move at that rapid speed. I manually in super slow motion inserted that needle into poor Gaylene’s arm while she silently mouthed a huge scream . She was determined not to affect my clinical, or perhaps horrified that I would be asked to repeat the exercise on her again and stifled the sound. The instructor finally couldn’t bear it anymore and yelled “quick, oh my goodness, do it quickly, oh hurry” but it was as if I was watching in time elapsed photography and was unable to respond. What a torturer I was. I have since made it my goal to ‘give a good needle’ after that poor start.
It was hot and muggy in the district area but cooler and cloudy as I neared home. I put the cat out on his run and decided to walk the dog before supper so we started out on our stroll. We hadn’t gone ¼ of km when the heavens opened up in a major downpour. No rain jacket and committed to the process so it was a very soggy and wet trot. And Mr. Gary was very unimpressed upon our return. He was sitting yowling frantically on the one small dry patch of cement on the steps. I knew how he felt with a wet coat.
Had an email from a friend in Cape Breton who says one of their summer students is from Universite Ste Anne and knows daughter # 2. What a small world it is eh? Six degrees of separation in action.
I must head out to pick up the photo proofs for the publicity shots from the photographer who has left them at Superstore. My travel partner picked hers up today and says she found them mediocre. I thought hers looked ok when we reviewed them at the shoot but she thinks mine were ok. Comparable to not liking the sound of your own voice recorded I‘m guessing.
