Sea of Red Precautions

Holy shit. It’s Friday. I’m wrapped in a burrito blanket (like for real, a burrito blanket. I have two and refuse to sleep without at least one) drinking wine. This week has been fucking brutal. Half my team….. Sigh….nevermind; You’d would have no idea what I was talking about as I haven’t filled you all in on my life.

I’ve been getting a lot of questions about my life and my son since I’ve been gone, since the pandemic. So let’s start here: I work in one of the largest hospitals in the area. The pandemic and I reported for duty the same month. Lmao. I took the job as a side job to the job I already had and to test my brain. If you have been with me over the last 10 years, hospitals used to set off my PTSD. I figured I’d either crumple like a Kmart lawn chair, or stomp my ass forward.

I did both. Crumpled during training. Oh. It was bad. I fell on my face. My body and mind rebelled. I took a week off. I yelled at myself and went back. Then I was good. I was good. Yeah, I was good till I had to report to a trauma room in the ED (ER). Did you know they use the same wooden cabinets in most trauma ED rooms? Yeah, I didn’t either. I looked over at those cabinets and I swear to the stars they looked back. Like they were saying “hey bitch, remember me?”. Oh. I remembered them. I did. I remembered. Good thing Adrenaline kicked in to save me from PTSD so I could focus on the patient in front of me. You know, Trauma room. Ha. And that’s how I powered through every day. PTSD creeping up until Adrenaline focused my attention…. Until I started reporting to ICU. ICU. Sigh. Just arriving on the unit caused PTSD to stand up and get ready to fuck shit up. The first several patients I took care of had her face. They really did. They had her face until one of them coded on me. Then I could see the patient’s face clearly. Turns out, I still perform well under pressure. (Pretty sure this is the only thing I’m good at. Have I every told you guys the story of how my new born tried to die on me while I was bleaching my sister’s hair and I managed to keep him alive and pull the chemicals out of her hair so it didn’t literally burn her hair and scalp off? Lol). A week later a guy coded in my arms. I remember his face clearly.

They stopped having her face after that.

And then, then Covid-19 descended upon us and I couldnt look away. I was in constant high alert. PTSD didn’t even have a chance, Adrenaline took over as soon as I stepped foot into the building. I headed the Covid-19 team for my department and that’s all I did. All day.

About a month into the Pandemic I took advantage and weened myself off the PTSD meds, all of them. While PTSD was pinned to a wall by Adrenaline I figured then was my only chance. It was risky, I had no idea what I was doing but I had this urge that felt like my chest would explode if I didn’t try. . Looking back, ohhhhhh mannnnnn that could have gone sideways in so many ways. Haha. I’m so glad I did it. I’ve been med free since then after more years than I can count.

I ran straight into the center of Covid, I did overtime on top of overtime. At one point, I was the only one left standing when covid took out every single person on my team. I kept on trucking. I volunteered everyday to work with covid patients. I swear I lived at that hospital. Within three months I made permanent (unheard of at the time for my department) within 6 months I was training our new hires to help our Trainer. Shortly after, I became the Trainer for my entire department. Now, I’m a Lead, the Trainer, and the Safety Coach for my department.

I guess what I’m getting at is I’ve worked through COVID-19 since the beginning. I’ve seen some shit. I’ve seen shit go sideways and then do the Morbid Macarena. And this week, this week has been the worst. I’ve never seen so many positive Covid-19 patients. It’s a sea of Red Precautions in our ED (Red airborne signs in the ED). Basically I’ve lived in my Capr; Shit show for sure. Half my team is down due to COVID-19, again. This week has been fucking brutal. So, back to being wrapped up in a burrito drinking wine.

My Capr. 07.28.21

WARNING: Covid-19 Karen behavior will absolutely not be tolerated. I swear to the stars if I get any comments: “Covid-19 isn’t real, it’s a scam, blah blah” or whatever uneducated keyboard warrior bullshit people are spewing I will delete you so fast it will make your head spin to Mars. Then, I won’t think about you again until im calling a code on your infected ass.

Stay safe guys. Wash your hands. Don’t lick any toilet bowls. You know, behave.

Catriona

Xoxoxox

Bathroom Explosion

I wrote this in September 2017 right after we were rocked by a Hurricane. Something I’m sure I will share, eventually.
Don’t run away! It’s not that kind. Wrong end, really.
I took a walk the other night to get catfood after the storm. Wal-Mart is a scary place after a certain time. It’s also more quiet. Something I rather enjoy if I’ve got to brave Wal-Mart.
I grabbed the catfood and sorta just browsed. I came to the Bathroom linens and accessories. In my head I said “Oh, ok well while I’m here maybe I will look at what colors I’d like the new bathroom to be.” and then, it was all down hill from there.
“Oh, look at that color. That’s pretty. I really like that. Oh, but it reminds me of the time we (my wife and I) painted the master bathroom that color. Nope.”

I moved on.
“Oh, this is a nice red. I could get.. No, that reminds me of the master bathroom again.”

I moved on.
“OH black and white. That would be easy! I have all the… Annnnd that reminds me of when we had zebra print in the bathroom… And that one rouge zebra towel I could never get rid of.“

I moved on.
“Fuck Purple.”

I moved on.
“Grey is pretty. Two shades of grey and maybe.. Nope. Fuck. That reminds me of my master bathroom. It was Dark grey, as were the towles at one point. Fuck.”

I moved on.
“Coral! That doesn’t remind me of anything!… Except. How ugly coral is. Damnit.”

I moved on.
“This is starting to get ridic….Orange! Orange. It’s not the most calming of colors… But I can deal with that. Throw some abstract Art up and… Crap. And it reminds me of the Cocopelli theme we once had in the master bathroom.”

I moved on.
“That’s ugly. Nope. Nope. Fuck pink. Nope. That’s ugly too. NOPE NOT THAT ONE EITHER. WHY DID WE CHANGE OUR BATHROOM THEME SO OFTEN?! WHO DOES THAT?! I’M NEVER GOING TO BE ABLE TO DECORATE MY BATHROOM EVER AGIAIN!” annnnd I burst into tears. At Wal-Mart. At 12am. At 12am I became a Person of Wal-Mart. Fuuuuuuckkkkkk.
In my defense, I hadn’t slept in days due to the storm. I’d been up well over 48 hours and eaten very little (and, really now that I think of it… We did change the color and theme of the bathroom frequently.. Lmao)
So I’m leaning against the shelf, catfood in hand, in tears…. And suddenly the realization that I’m CRYING IN WAL-MART ABOUT MY BATHROOM DECOR hits me. I start to laugh out loud, hysterically. Like, crazy laugh. I know you know what I mean. Then I realize anyone watching just watched me go from crying to laughing like an idiot. I laugh even harder because I’m now a Person of Wal-Mart. Bahahahahahah.
I finally got my shit together and left the aisel… Not before looking over to see 3 young guys staring….. Yep, I’m the seemingly crazy Cat Lady at Wal-Mart. Yep, that’s now me. Great.
I continued to laugh like a hyena to the cash register. Fuck it.

I didn’t finish this… But, do I really need to?

Catriona

Oxoxoxo

Guacamole Cops

So, I’m in the car, right, and I’m talking and blah blah blah, and alllll of a sudden I have the urge to look down. So, I do (duh). What do I see? A weird ass grease spot looking at me. 

The HellllllLLLL is THAT? I wasn’t eating, we had been in the car for about an hour. No drinks, nothing leaked. Nothing.  Where the hell this thing came from, I have no idea. 

So I named it “Amy”. 

Amy didn’t appreciate how long we were in the car. She didn’t like the lack of coffee that was going on. She had a real issue with little guys in big trucks with ball sacks hanging off the back. She had a lotttttt to say about those… She was super mouthy. Like,  for real. She was a real thorn in the driver’s side. She had this accent that no one could figure out, and she swore like a trucker. 

It got to the point that I had to ask her to leave. She refused. I threatened. I tried to physically remove Amy, but my attempts were thwarted. 

Finally, I stuck an oversided Bambi sticker over her face (regrettablely, I didn’t get a photo) and we went about our day. Worked like a charm! Remind me to get more of those. 

I’d forgotten all about her until later when I went to do the laundry. There she was, glaring at me, the Bitch. So I shoved her ass into the washer (not before assaulting her with some heavy duty Amy Remover), annnnd I haven’t heard from her since. Now granted, I’ve been too lazy to go back into the laundry room… Bitch better be gone by the time I walk back in there! 

In an unrelated note: guacamole chips (auto correct wanted me to say “Guacamole Cops“, the helllll is THAT?), are addicting and I’m currently looking for a support group. Anyone have any suggestions? 

Catriona

XOXOXOXO

Catriona in the cow field

My better half had this weird thing with winning me cows from various fairs, machines, and weird game stands. I don’t even know how it started. Lol. We had two particular stuffed cows that were my favorite Henfers. (Better Half named all cows “Hefner”, it was hilarious). One was obnoxiously large and round. The other was so tiny, you couldn’t help but laugh at the sheer ridiculousness. Both Hefners lived on our bed for years. 

Unfortunately, I only have one Hefner left. The small one. It’s now locked in a box I had made for my son….I will go into that another time… 

Every cow I received had this goofy friggen look on its face. The kind you could be Earth-Shatteringly-Angry, and still couldn’t keep a straight face if you saw one of these things. So, as you can imagine I can’t see a cow, even a real cow, without laughing like an idiot. Every. Damn. Time. It’s made worse if the cow desides to throw a “Moo” at me. I can’t see a cow, or hear a cow, without smiling like an idiot. 

Annnnnddddd then there’s the part where I live close to cows pastures.  I can’t really go anywhere without seeing a cow. It’s a bit obnoxious, really. Even my son has started to notice. We’ve been taking long walks lately, and just sort of exploring. Recently he looked up and said “MOM! Hefner got huge!”.  I laughed, the cows started Mooing, we laughed more… I had to eventually pull us away. Which really proved hard, as their were cow fields on both sides of us for a good twenty minutes. Anyone passing us by would have thought we were nuts. 

It’s been over a year since she died. Yeah guys; I said she. 

The thing about me coming back to writing is that while I was away… We will say “someone”…  decided that stalking me on the internet, cloning my media sites, posting fake nudes… Yeah, you read that right…. Throwing all of my private information (including the town I live in, my son’s name and nick names, my business information, including this blog) out in the open while at the same time harassing anyone and everyone they could. The idea was to ruin my reputation. The idea was  to pop the safe little bubble I had created to protect my son and myself from the internet… Because parenting, and privacy… However it didn’t work. Those who knew me laughed and kept on truckin’. Those who didn’t know me, sort of shook their heads in disgust,  but came back to me with questions.. Concerns.. Because what was posted and said was so bizarre. In the end none of it matters other than I no longer have the privacy I once had, and really at this point: fuck it. LMAO

 You see, if you have been following me regularly I generally use gender neutral pronouns for my better half. Was I ashamed, you ask? Hell no! I didn’t want readers to get stuck on WORDS. I didn’t want it to be even more obvious of who I was. Lol. I skimmed over things that would easily identify me. But, “someone” has made it so that it is easily tracible to who I am. So, from now on, it’s going to be all out in the open… Watch out internet, BECAUSE NOW I REALLY HAVE NO FILTER! LMAO. 

So, join me on this new journey of letting it all hang out… And finally knitting some penis socks. 

Catriona 

XOXOXOXOX

Dumping Wednesday

Ever feel like your phone is too HEAVY? Like you just need to flip it over and see what dumps out onto the floor? Yeah. Me too. 

Let’s see what would fall out of my phone if that was possible:

Oh! I just made this for dinner. This is a crunchy wrap. Filled with Avocado, rice, tomatoes, spinach, salsa, cheese, sautéed peppers and onions and whatever other leftovers I could find. So good. 

Ooooo! This one is a cute little Mom and Pop shop I found the other day. I love those! 

This is what it looked like yesterday when we went for a walk. Doooom! 

I’m “Medieval as fuck”, FYI. 

Yeah, I have a prescription… 

Ooo found this at the store the other day!! 

WhateverTheHellThisIs:

My app is mean to me:

LOL. I have some ridiculous stuff in my phone. It’s a good thing when I drop it, it isn’t actually capable of allowing all my weirdness fall out! 
Catriona 

OXOXOXOX

My Dear followers…

I feel as though I may not have been very clear in my last post. So listen up my wonderful whack jobs.

About 95% of the time when I “like” something it’s cuzz, I like, really, really, like it.

However – there are some posts like say…about joining a merry band of naked, self proclaimed cult followers that I may have “liked” last week….My point in my last post was mostly directed at the one or two individuals that then contacted me – wanting me to join their naked cult-ness (seriously).

So really my point is I support you alllllll. I love all of your work and even the stuff I don’t agree with – I support your right to get all crazy and junk. I just don’t want to get naked with you (well actually…hmmm…..) and worship a pez dispenser, ok?

Kisses,

Catriona

I like it. But I may not actually LIKE it.

I donno if you guys noticed but I get around. Like big time. OH MY STARS get your head out of the gutter!

I meant on the internet. Crap. That doesn’t sound much better does it? Sighhh.

I “Like” alot of blog posts. I do. I spend some (a lot?) of my spare time reading blogs. I like to see what oozes out of people’s brains. However, When I “like” something it doesn’t necessarily mean I like the content on the page. It’s more of a “I was here, yo” not a “OMG I SO AGREE WITH ALL THE IGNORANT STUFF YOU JUST POSTED.” I feel like I shouldn’t have to explain this buuuutttt I got some pretty FUCKIN’ crazy E-mails last week. I love crazy E-mails, hate mail especially….but some of the E-mails I have been getting in regards to my liking blog posts were a little whacked out.

Just because I liked your post about joining a cult doesn’t mean I want to (or that I want to get matching T-shirts for the occasion, for that matter), ok? It just means I read your blog and support your right to be completely outa your flippin’ mind.

So, yeah. Settle down my weirdos. It’s all going to be ok.

I’m going to go get drunk on Oreos and Oj now.

Catriona

Oh, and for the question about how to pronounce my name: Cat-tree-own-uh.