Musings from a Muse

The Return of Fang

2009-11-04T09:27:00.000-08:00

Punkin went to the dentist for the first time about 2 weeks ago now. She was amazing.

One of the things I asked the dentist about was those 2 bottom front teeth that are still missing (the lower lateral incisors, FYI). The dentist asked about family history (no, we all grew them. She is the lone freak) and her general tooth growing activities (they come in groups, and came in late), and then reassured me that she may never grow those 2 teeth in.

Never?

Well, he said, she might not get them as baby teeth. And we need not worry about whether she has them as adult teeth until her late teens - between 17 and 20, we'll figure out that they'll never come in, and then deal with a bridge or caps then.

My heart nearly stopped. The dentist was so blasé about the whole thing. And me, being the obsessive-compulsive Mommy? I'm obsessing about these damn teeth. And my lack of extended medical.

Anyhow. He praised her for growing all 4 second molars at the same time (one through, and 3 with flat, whitened gums to show they're coming in). He poked and prodded at those lateral incisors (or at least, the soft gum where they should be) and shrugged. There was nothing there that he could tell, and he had the ticky-tacky metal pokey tool.

So imagine my surprise when I was showing off her one erupted molar and the three 'look they're growing' molar spots to Beaker and I saw the telltale flat, whitened gums where there'd previously just squishy pink gums noting the absence of those lower lateral incisors. I ran my finger nail across the spot, and could feel a tooth. I poked around on the other side, and felt another tooth.

Right when we'd all given up hope that those 2 damn teeth would come in, they showed up underneath her gums, taunting us all. I fully expected that they would recede back so she was just soft squishy gum again, but on Sunday, I was inspecting her mouth again, and it looked suspiciously like she had a hole. So I ran my nail across the gum again and sure enough, the left lower lateral incisor is through the gums!

It looks to me as though it is coming in just fine, but my Mum, after thorough messing about in Punkin's mouth, thinks it's coming in sideways. I guess we'll see in the next few days.

It's hard for me to believe that she might actually be caught up and normal in the tooth department soon. Because she was pre-term, I expected her to be small. She's a giant. I expected her to be scrawny. She has the meatiest thighs I've ever seen on a toddler (poor kid). I expected some developmental delays with language. She has the comprehension and language of a 5 year old. I expected issues with her eyesight. So far, her vision is excellent (first optometrist visit upcoming though). I expected there to be something wrong because she was pre-term. So far she's either completely normal, or above average. So I figured the teeth were going to be the issue. And now, it seems, they really aren't.

I mean, unless that incisor grows in sideways. Then I'll start calling her Fang again.

Bad Things (13)

2009-10-31T19:30:00.000-07:00

I stumbled into the dark OR changeroom. I'd managed to tear myself away from Will, just barely, and sent him on his way. I stood in my bra and scrub bottoms, pulling scrubs from my locker. I hadn't bothered to turn the lights on, as the space beneath the door was large enough to let enough light from the hall in for me to see what I was doing. The dark and quiet were soothing after the crazed evening.

The door swung open. I blinked and waited for the lights to be turned on. Nothing. The door clicked shut again without a sound, but I hadn't heard anyone enter. I realized who'd come in when I felt the width of his cool chest against the bare skin of my shoulders and felt his fangs sink into my neck. I gasped with the pain. He was angry. It wouldn't have hurt if he'd been feeling amorous.

"Who is he, Alexandra?" I could feel him spraying my neck with my own blood as he hissed at me. I struggled, uselessly.

"You're hurting me." I whispered.

"As much as it hurt to see you kissing him?"

"It was nothing. He's a friend from high school."

"I didn't realize sticking your tongue halfway down someone's throat was a common way of saying hello to old acquaintances."

"Chris, you're hurting me. Besides. It's not like I'm anything but your shagging buddy." I snapped and pushed back from the locker. He leaned his weight into me more heavily, and started licking the wound on my neck. I knew from experience it would be no more than a bruise when we headed back to the unit.

"I think of you as more than a bed friend, Xandra. You know that." The licking became kissing, and the familiar butterflies in my stomach started, just as the did every time he kissed me.

"No. You say I am more than your nookie pal, but no one knows we're together. It's like you are ashamed. Will didn't stop to think if it was embarrassing to kiss me. He didn't haul me to a super secret hidden on-call room. He just kissed me. Without regard for who may or may not see." I pushed away from my locker to unpin myself. He allowed me to move. I spun around and glared before I pulled the fresh scrub top on, then changed my pants. I tossed my bloody scrubs into the biohazard garbage. There was no way I was ever getting the blood out of them.

Even in the dim light I could tell Chris was still enraged. His fists were clenched at his side. Even though I knew he didn't need to breathe, I could hear angry sighs and see his shoulders rising and falling. His posture was tense. I stared him down, just as annoyed.

"I'm going back to work, Dr. Eriksson. I refuse to have a battle of wills with you in a dark room." I brushed past him and headed back down to the ER. Will was still there, except now he was in scrubs and a lab coat. I shot a puzzled look at Karen as I sat down at the nurses station.

"He got pulled from the bus and told to come on duty because of how slammed we are. He says you guys went to high school together? Lucky girl." She winked. I shrugged and started charting on the eviscerated dead guy. I looked up when I saw Chris walk back into the unit. He scowled when he saw Will and abruptly turned headed in my direction.

"Xandra, do you have the chart for the evisceration?" He asked.

"Sure." I handed it over. Will walked over at the mention of the case. Chris scribbled something in the chart and handed it back to me.

"Thank you, my love." He leaned down and kissed my forehead. Karen choked on her coffee. Will dropped his stethoscope. I simply raised an eyebrow.

"By the way, Dr. Carlson?" Chris turned to face Will.

"Yes, Dr. Eriksson?" Will fumbled with his stethoscope a bit.

"I would prefer if you refrained from asking my girlfriend out on dates." A stunned silence fell across all the staff in the ER.

I wanted to crawl under the desk and die.

Bad Things (12)

2009-10-13T19:07:00.000-07:00

Working in the ER was a challenge, but I found my footing quickly, was learning something new every shift and found the straight nights oddly intriguing. Weekends are always hell in the ER, but sometimes during the mid-week lull, when there weren't 25 people clogging up the waiting room, it was oddly peaceful. It could have just been that I was slowing down to a quick walk instead of being on the dead run, but on those nights that were what we would deem quiet, were we not so superstitious that we would ruin things by saying so, it was a great job.

Being happy in my work, and moving around more than I had in the operating room, I found more of the weight dropping off me. My scrubs were actually getting too big. I wasn't doing as much exercise on my off time, but the pace in the ER, combined with eating healthier was doing me a world of good. The only thing that was really strained in my life was my bizarre relationship with Chris.

When we worked together, I wanted to be in his pocket, I desired him so badly. I hated it when he wasn't working my cases because I wanted to spend my entire shift listening to the lilt of his voice, feeling the coolness of his skin. It distracted me from my work. Not enough that I was making mistakes, but enough that I would catch a glimpse of him and become distracted momentarily. Which wasn't pleasant for the patient if I was starting an IV. Most of our shifts found us sneaking off to an on-call room for a quickie. Not exactly the kind of girl I'd ever been before, but there was something about Chris that made me more daring. I teased him that he had some weird sexual power over me, which he denied, but I wasn't so sure he was telling the truth. I simply craved him when he was near.

When we weren't working together, though, I didn't want to be near him. I dreaded him showing up at my house on days off, or running into him while I was out in the evenings. I couldn't stop myself from revisiting situations when we'd been together, and thinking that I didn't act like myself when we were together. I was so stand-offish away from work that even though most of our co-workers suspected something was going on with us, no one believed it was possible. As far as they knew, we didn't spend time together away from work, and so most people assumed it was an innocent flirtation, where the hot doctor was making the fat wallflower feel better about herself. If only they knew I wasn't the one doing the pursuing.

I found I was engaged in a battle of wills with myself. While I was certainly not going to deny enjoying what occurred when Chris and I would sneak off during break time, I didn't enjoy that the relationship we'd developed only occurred in working hours. I didn't enjoy that when he wasn't around, I found his intentions questionable. And I didn't enjoy knowing that if he lost control I could die. There was so much about him that terrified me. And eventually, that distrust and fear started to breakdown whatever 'spell' I found myself under when we were together. I'd been expecting the enchantment I felt to break for a while, but it surprised me how it did.

It was a hellishly busy night. It had been the first snow of the season, and while in mid-November that wasn't unexpected, there was always a rash of accidents after the snow flew the first time, before people got their winter tires on. To make matters worse, it was a Friday, and a full moon. A new ambulance would arrive almost as quickly as the ambulance bay would clear. We were running off our feet, and there was talk of calling in extra staff and an extra doctor, it was so busy.

I was handing over a prescription to a patient I was discharging. I'd shuffled her out of the curtain she was behind and was giving her discharge orders in the hallway so that the bed could be cleaned faster. I heard an ambulance siren pulling into the bay, and saw Chris and another nurse running for the doors. Obviously the patient in the bus was a mess of some sort.

"Xandra! We'll need you at bed three as soon as they bring this guy in. Grab the crash cart, move the bed!" Chris called to me as he ran by. I smiled apologetically at the girl and ran. I hauled the cart across the ER to the bed I'd just cleared. I was popping the breaks off and shoving the bed down the hall away from the ambulance bay when the stretcher came flying in. There was an paramedic straddling a large man doing chest compressions, which, while it makes for exciting TV, is not something you see in the average ER. His partner was rattling off report to Chris. Karen, the nurse who'd given me my orientation, was switching out IV bags while running. She didn't see to stop when the stretcher did, and bumped hard into the wall.

Chris was into the crash cart immediately and started yelling directions. I hadn't heard the diagnosis of the patient, so it surprised me to see the paramedic was sitting on a blue absorbent pad. I flipped the edge of it and saw a completely saturated large abdominal dressing.

"Uh? Dr. Eriksson? Are you aware this paramedic is sitting on an abdominal wound?" I was passing things to Chris as quickly as he asked for them.

"The partner said there was a laceration. Can you see how bad it is?"

"We're gonna need as many units of blood as we can get, stat. There's a 12 by 36 pad underneath him that is completely soaked." I responded.

"Karen, run!" Chris ordered. Karen dropped what she was doing and headed to the lab.

"What the hell were you thinking?" Chris asked the paramedic, who was still doing compressions.

"I was thinking my ass was the best pressure dressing money could buy, Doctor. Any better ideas?"

Chris seemed taken back by the answer. And then thoughtfully, he nodded.

"Good call. But we need to get you off him so I can assess the wound." Chris shrugged. The paramedic slung his leg back like he was dismounting a horse. He stumbled a little, and fell into me. I caught his hand as he turned to face me, and was struck by how familiar he looked.

"Xan?" He looked astonished. I couldn't quite place him, but his voice was suddenly familiar.

"Who-"

"Alexandra Summers? Holy shit! It's been so long!" He threw his bloody arms around me, much to my disgust, and hugged me. He gave a short squeeze at the end and I recognized the style of hug. My high school crush, Will Carlson. Who'd only ever hugged me once, but I was so smitten that it was forever seared into my memory.

"Will?" I pushed him away to look up at him. Yup. Will Carlson indeed. A little older but still handsome in that rugged, needed to shave and enjoyed Molson Canadian way. He was just a bit shorter than Chris, but otherwise the total opposite. Where Chris was blonde, and trendy and brooding, Will had short dark hair, stubble, a cheek dimple that was always visible because he was always smiling. Just like he'd been in high school. He was still built like an athlete. Will had played hockey in high school. He was on the local junior team, and I'd heard he had a hockey scholarship somewhere in the States, but otherwise hadn't heard much about him since. He held me at arms length, assessing me. He smiled broadly and pulled me into another hug.

"You look fantastic, Xan. We need to catch up."

"Can I have my nurse back please?" Chris asked from behind Will. Will let go of me and looked sheepish. I side-stepped around him and went back to answering every command Chris barked at me until finally, he realized there was no hope and called time of death. I'd been worried about my scrubs after Will had hugged me, but they were worse by the time Chris and I stopped working on the guy. Chris stomped away, furious.

"Dr. Eriksson?" I followed him out into the hallway. He slammed his palm against the wall and cursed. I put my hand on his shoulder. He turned around, fangs out, eyes wild.

"Xandra, you need to go change. The smell is making me wild. I have to go feed. I'll be back in 15 minutes." He turned away and walked down the hall to the exit. I went back to the unit to pick up my pass card for the OR change rooms. Will was standing at the desk, finishing his paperwork.

"I heard you'd taken a full ride somewhere in the States." I offered.

"I did. I've been down there since grad, basically."

"So you went to university for paramedics?"

"No, I'm actually a surgeon. I was recruited home by Jim Welsh. I should be starting any time now. But I re-certify as a paramedic every couple years. It's how I paid for med school after my scholarship ran out. So I'm just doing an orientation and licensing ride for the next week or so before I hit the theatres."

"I just left the OR."

"Wasn't stressful enough, so you decided you wanted to run into paramedics sitting on eviscerated laps instead?"

"Something like that. It was nice to see you, but I gotta get changed. I still have a locker in the OR where I keep spare scrubs."

"I'll walk you over." He signed the bottom of the sheet, and smiled up at me. I shrugged and let him follow along.

"I was wondering if anyone from school was still around town." Will started.

"Oh sure. Some of us are lifers here."

"You've never left?"

"Not for long, anyhow." I admitted.

"I doubt I would have left without that scholarship."

"You woulda had to, Will. There was no med school here then."

"Maybe I wouldn't have become a doctor." He shrugged. I stopped at the locker room and swiped my card across the reader. As I pushed open the door, he leaned against the wall and looked kind of wistful. And my repressed teenage heart melted a little.

"What does your wife think of it here?"

"She's the reason I am here." He laughed. I felt a wave of disappointment.

"Well, I guess that's good." I forced a smile.

"She took me for everything I had in the divorce, so I decided to come home and start fresh." He smirked. My breath caught and I felt like we were back in high school for a few minutes, with the internal debate that arose. I was seeing Chris, but I was suddenly back in the throes of my smit with Will from high school. Talk about conflicted over two boys.

"I'm sorry to hear that."

"I'm not. I happily handed it over to be rid of her, and thanked god we never managed to produce kids. She was never interested in coming to Canada with me. She just stayed at home and spent my money."

"That sounds terrible, Will."

"We do stupid things when we are young and in lust."

"I guess we do." I thought of Chris, and wondered if I still qualified as young. Because I was definitely in lust.

"At any rate, Xan, you need to change. I want to catch up though. When are you next off?" He asked.

"Oh, I start days off tomorrow."

"I'd love to take you for dinner tomorrow night." He offered. I smiled.

"Sounds like fun." I scribbled my address and phone number on a sterile 4x4 package and handed it over. He laughed, slipped it into his pocket and gave me another hug. I pulled away to head into the locker room, and was surprised when Will pulled me back again and kissed me. let the door shut and put my arms around his neck and responded. It was better than anything I'd ever imagined when I was in high school.

Thanksgiving

2009-10-10T10:31:00.000-07:00

This is the Thanksgiving weekend in Canada, and as such, I thought I'd break my exhaustion-induced silence with a post about things I am grateful for. It's always very humbling to count the blessings in my daily life, I think, because it reminds me of how good I have it, and how even though sometimes the road is rocky, I still have a good good life.

• Beaker is back to work, as of thursday.
• Beaker and I have been married 4 years, as of thursday, without a major dust-up.
• I have been working full-time hours at my casual position, between 3 difference facilities.
• I love my job. This is huge because I thought I would hate gerontology.
• I have parents and in-laws who are willing to take Punkin so I can continue to work full-time hours at my casual position and build my seniority in order to qualify for an actual position with benefits when one comes available.
• We were able to pay all our bills on time while Beaker was on lay-off.
• We never missed a mortgage payment while Beaker was on lay-off.
• The manager of home and community care LOVES me and has said she can't wait until she can give me a full-time job.
• The care-coordinator at 2 of the facilities I am working at seems to like me a great deal, and is actively trying to find hours for me.
• The care-coordinator at the other facility that I work at also thinks I'm pretty good.
• I like the care-aides I'm working with. And some of them think I'm awesome.
• My daughter is happy and healthy
• My daughter is potty trained during the day
• My daughter speaks in full, clear sentences.
• My daughter has an excellent sense of humour. She actually understand irony already.
• My daughter can self-amuse and self-direct her play for hours. She has an amazing imagination.
• My viscount wants to keep fighting for me.
• My viscount's wife is an awesome woman who I am grateful to have in my life
• A kiss is all it takes to cure all that wounds Punkin
• My PVR records all my favourite shows so I can watch them at my leisure
• My worm composter is healthy and happy
• My garden produced food that we ate this year! Peas, a teeny zucchini, broccoli, lettuce, tomatoes, strawberries and HERBS!
• I am healthy, and according to my most recent pregnancy test, not pregnant. Even though I haven't had a period since I started work in August.
• I own a beautiful house, and it will become more beautiful now that both Beaker and I are working. I have plans, baby.
• I live in a good city, in a good province, in one of the best countries in the world. I am lucky to have been born Canadian.
• I live nowhere near the chaos and mess that will be the 2010 Winter Olympics.
• I sing every day. Sometimes just 'London Bridge', but everyday, I get to sing.
• My daughter is a budding composer, currently singing 'You want to read me a boooooooook! If you don't I will spank your buuuuuuuuuuuuuuum!'
• Punkin finds time outs and being sent to her room much more traumatizing than spankings. So she hasn't been spanked in about 2 months.
• My neighbours on the left are pretty cool.
• My neighbours on the right are okay too, I suppose.
• I'm test driving a new skin cream, and so far it's not bothering me.

That's what I was able to come up with in the 20 minutes I've been waiting to let the special conditioner I'm trying on my hair set. It's time for me to go have a shower and take my girl shopping. Which is something else I'm grateful for. I live in a culture where we can come and go as we please, where we can go buy vegetables without breaking the bank, indulge in retail therapy that allows us to express our diversity and difference and express our feelings how we see fit. And if that means a tickle fight in the middle of the mall, so be it.

Evenings

2009-09-29T21:34:00.000-07:00

There's nothing like the dark silence of a lockdown ward for aggressive dementia patients to creep the poop out of you.

1 more evening shift, and then I promise you some Bad Things.

A very Good Thing

2009-09-20T19:24:00.000-07:00

So I just cut and pasted Bad Things into Word. Seems as though inspiration has struck - it's 13000 words long. The reason I wanted to see was because I'm thinking about tackling NaNoWriMo again, and I'm trying to think up a story. So I thought I'd see how far Bad Things had gone, considering I'm still interested in it, and as it's nearly 1/3 the length I'd need for NaNoWriMo, I think I could actually pull off a whole 50000 in November, if I knew beforehand what I was writing.

Hmmm...More vampires? Or is that too cliché right now?

Bad Things (11)

2009-09-20T10:53:00.000-07:00

After the relative calm of the OR, the ER was utter insanity.

I knew during report that it was going to be crazy. There were two or three car accidents that had come in shortly before shift change, which was backing things up fiercely. Combined with the usual raft of sniffles, aches, twisted ankles and upset stomachs that fill up the waiting room of the average Emergency Room, the place was hopping.

Eric's presence filled the small nursing station. He was sitting at the desk, making notes on one of the patient files when I first saw him and my breath caught. He looked so in his element, confident, commanding and just oozing raw sexuality. He glanced up, caught me staring and winked before returning to his report.

The nurse orienting me to the floor caught the gesture and smirked.

"Don't mind Dr. Eriksson, Alexandra. He's a horrible flirt, but rumour has it he's dating someone from another floor right now." Karen sounded unimpressed.

"So I've heard," I shrugged, "but he's not really my type. Too tall. Too blonde. Too flashy."

She laughed and we continued the quick tour before knuckling down to try to clear some patients out. I took history after history, handed out urine spec cups, and puke dishes. Karen came and found me as I held the hair of a teenage girl while she vomited into a garbage pail.

"Ready for dinner?" Her timing was impeccable. I was starving.

"Yes!" I resettled the girl on her stretcher, and headed to the staff room to grab my lunchbag. We escaped to the cafeteria, which was empty and quiet.

"So you came from OR?" Karen was making polite small talk. I indulged, determined to settle into my new position, even though I was concerned that my relationship with Chris would somehow come up.

"Yeah. I saw the line and thought it would be a good experience. I don't have kids or anything so straight nights isn't that big a deal."

"Man, I'd love to work in the OR. Patient out cold the whole time, no call bells to answer, no family to deal with. No drunk, puking teenage girls." Karen had a dreamy quality as she described what she thought was nirvana.

"Mmmhmm. Standing in one position holding an instrument for 8 hours during a transplant surgery. Kneeling on a moving stretcher doing chest compressions, while the team is wheeling a coding surgery out into ICU so that they don't die in the OR. Med students barfing in the cans the first time they smell cautery, or worse, onto the open patient. Suctioning 3 pints of blood out of a chest trauma. The smell of terminal cancer when you open up a young father who's been complaining about stomach cramps. It's a cake walk in the OR." I was sarcastic. Every nursing position has its trials and difficulties. Karen looked appropriately chastized.

"Did you take the OR specialty?" She changed the topic, just enough to keep it on where I'd come from, without making it sound like she was talking down about it anymore.

"Yeah. It was an excellent course. Very worthwhile if you seriously want to consider the OR. You can't really work in the theatres without it."

"So why the ER? Why not something more relaxing?" She asked.

"It was time for a change." I shrugged.

"Well, you got an interesting rotation. 4 nights, 4 docs, 2 teams." Karen pulled a face. By interesting, she clearly mean terrible.

"I'll manage. Once I find me footing, it'll be fine. I've dealt with most of the docs in the hospital at one point or another through the OR."

"Can I call you Alex?" She asked. I flinched and shook my head

"I prefer Xandra." I looked at my watch, "Well, let's get back to it."

We returned to the chaos and were up to our necks in work for hours. It appeared my orientation was over, as I lost Karen in the haste of working, but I was keeping my head above water, so to speak. I took a chart to the station after assessing the patient and handed it to Chris.

"You need to see this guy next."

"Xandra, there are three traumas I need to see to right now." Chris admonished. Doctors never like being told what to do, regardless of whether it's from their walking-blood-donor-come-reincarnated-lover or not.

"Are they stable traumas?" I asked. It sounded like an oxymoron, but some traumas are not inherently life-threatening. Chris sighed and looked down at the chart I'd handed him.

"Xandra, this looks like a pretty cut and dried gastritis." The undercurrent of his tone was that he couldn't believe I was wasting his time.

"Look at his vitals. And he's grey. And making no sense. His history is sketchy because he's confused, but I checked his record and he was in a few days ago after a bar fight. At the time he was complaining of some stomach pain, but primarily the issue was the fight bite and stitches he needed. But he looks like maybe a perforated and septic bowel just on external exam." I explained. Chris walked to the curtain and went in. I followed and stood behind him as he assessed the guy.

"Nurse, can you get me the glucometre, and then notify xray that I need an abdominal series?" He asked.

"Pardon?" The guy's blood sugar wouldn't be an issue with a perforated bowel.

"The glucometre. Now." Chris's tone brooked no argument. I grabbed the machine from the station and brought it in to him and then went to call x-ray. Chris met me back in the nursing station.

"You're right. He's septic."

"How did you figure that out with just a glucometre?" I was confused.

"Connect the dots, Xandra." Chris raised an eyebrow and flashed me some fang, and and got it. He'd used the glucometre as a handy way to sample the patient's blood, and could likely taste the infection.

"Oh, Chris, gross." I gagged. He laughed and leaned close to whisper in my ear.

"You're due another break. Meet me in the cafeteria in five."

I found Karen and let her know I was going on my break and headed to the cafeteria. Housekeeping had been through and cleaned and turned all but the auxillary lights off, as it was nearing 3am. Chris was standing just inside the door and as I entered, he took my hand and led me back out.

"Where are we going?"

"The 5th floor lounge."

"The med student lounge? Won't some of them be up there?"

"No. They're writing exams next week, they're all off studying." He led me on to the staff elevator and selected the floor. As the doors shut, he pushed me to the back of the elevator and started kissing me. It was hot. I responded. We barely made it off the elevator, we were already so entangled in one anothers limbs. He pulled away to lead me down the hall to the lounge.

Sure enough, it was empty, and after he tugged me through the doorway, he shut the door, locked it and pulled me to him again. He was fumbling with my scrub top, trying to pull it over my head while I tugged at his t-shirt. He finally broke away from kissing me, pulled my top off and then pulled his off. He pushed me down on the couch and started trailing kisses down my neck and chest. I tilted my head to one side, thinking he needed to feed. He made his way up to my mouth again.

"Hungry?" I managed between kisses.

"Not for blood. Just you." He growled. I was surprised and turned on. We hadn't actually been together sexually yet. It didn't seem right that it was going to be on the couch in the med student lounge, but at the same time, I was in no mood to say no.

"Next time it better be in a more romantic location." I demanded as I tore his belt open.

Bad Things (10)

2009-09-15T11:29:00.000-07:00

I had no idea what possessed me (okay, I had a fairly good idea), but I found myself applying for the straight nights rotation in the ER. I filled in the internal posting bid form, elaborated on my experience and slipped the page into the application box. It was done.

I was terrified and fascinated by Christian. The effect he had on me was frightening. When we were together, I found myself allowing him to feed off me. I would defer to his wishes, thinking they were my own and then only recall what I wanted after we were apart. And now, his influence was great enough over me that I was applying for a position where I would be in closer contact with him.

I was probably insane. Tainted by some vampiric virus that leeched my personal will away. I shuddered to think about it, hoping I wouldn't become some useless, enslaved, will-less being. I shook off my doubts and hurried off to work. We were busy all day, but I was finally pulled away by a phone call. It was the care coordinator for the ER, letting me know that as the only applicant for the nights position, it was mine. She'd already made arrangements with my manager to move down the next night.

"Your rotation is a bit of a mess right now. Your position is a shift-bridge. So your first two nights you work with one team, the next two you work with another." Kate had been my preceptor when I was in my final rotation in nursing school.

"Is there a doc permanently in that rotation?" I asked, hopeful and frightened at the same time.

"The way your rotation generally falls, you have a different doc each night. You get Eriksson on day 1, doctor of the day on day 2, Smith on day three and McTavish on day 4. They're all pretty good to the nursing staff. The doc of the day is hit or miss for obvious reasons." She explained, "I was really surprised to see your application, Xandra. I thought you loved the OR."

"I do, but it was time for a change." I lied. I didn't want to leave my job, but had felt compeled. I was both delighted and disappointed that I would only be working with Chris once every rotation. I knew his rotation well enough now that I knew he had no days off in common with me, so if I were able to shake his influence, I would only have to work with him once every nine days, and wouldn't see him otherwise.

It seemed strange to be so conflicted about him, but I knew something wasn't right within the relationship he had sought out with me. He thought I was some long lost lover. I didn't really believe in reincarnation, so I couldn't accept that. But he was so certain. And he was so beautiful, and thoughtful, that most of the time I didn't mind. It was when he wasn't around that I doubted him and his intentions. When we were apart, I suspected he had fed me some sordid story so that I would tilt my neck whenever he was hungry. That he had some sort of power over me that made me want him to do it.

The inner conflict I felt made me think of my grandmother, who'd once told me that men weren't really worth it in the end. It used to make me laugh, but her words rung in my ears now that I was so tormented about my feelings for Christian.

If you feel one way when he's around, and another when he's gone, then he's trouble with a capital T. No matter how pretty his face is, or how nicely he fills out his jeans. Mark my words, Alexandra. I remembered laughing in surprise at the words at the time, but I could hear her voice echoing in my memory more and more often where Christian was concerned.

"Well, Xan, I'm really looking forward to having you on our team. I know it's a sudden switch but we're desperately short staffed, and Erica said she could let you go right away."

"Thanks Kate."

dear diary

2009-09-12T14:08:00.001-07:00

Today is my fifth day in a row working at the new facility. Tomorrow I'm working overtime, even. It feels like all I do is sleep and work and hang with the kidlet for 5 minute jags.

I miss sitting still to write.

Be back soon.

Bad Things (9)

2009-09-02T19:04:00.000-07:00

His grin confirmed it. Christian the vampire, and Chris Eriksson the ER doctor were one and the same. I recoiled into the couch cushions. Not a glamourous or effective response, really.

"Settle, Alexandra." His voice was still rough, but it was soothing. I felt the tension leaving my shoulders and spine again. It must have been some weird mystic vampire power. As soon as I realized what it was, panic bubbled back to my surface and I was trying to climb up the back of my couch. It was useless, Christian had me pinned to the couch. In seconds, our tangled limbs had gone from sexy to terrifying.

"Get. Off. Me!" I pushed as hard as I could, to no effect other than hurting my wrists as I twisted them in his grasp. Christian's brow furrowed and his grip on my wrists loosened, just enough that I was no longer in pain.

"Xandra. You need to relax. I've already proven I'm not interested in killing you." He dipped his head to my neck and licked down to where he'd bit me the previous night. The wounds tingled a little, and I shivered. I should have recognized him the first time I saw him, and said as much.

"But you didn't recognize me because I didn't want you to."

"So you made yourself look different? I don't understand. When I think about it now, I'm horrified I didn't realize. It's like Clark Kent and Superman, how stupid exactly was Lois Lane to not notice. I'm at the Lois Lane level of stupidity."

"No, Alexandra, I did not want you to recognize me, so you didn't."

"Vampire mojo? How exactly do you have a medical license?"

"I went to med school."

"And the student loans?"

"A convenient and unquestionable reason to work what some would consider a less desirable shift."

"How can you stand being around trauma patients?"

"I can heal them. I can work on them so quickly that I can heal them, and no one notices what I've done."

"What about the cougar attack woman?"

"I do need to eat."

"You killed her cold blooded!"

"Alexandra! I am vampire! Of course I kill in cold blood. Just because I've chosen to work amongst humans, to save lives, doesn't mean I care about humans. Doesn't mean I won't kill to stay alive."

"But -"

"I went into medicine because it gave me easy access to blood. Either blood bags, or human patients. No one would notice if a trauma was missing a little more. Or if a unit was missing now and then after a transfusion in the ER. It meant I didn't have to kill as many, but I still need to eat fresh blood at times. I'm good at my job. I have to be. Too many fatalities while I was on and I would lose my license."

My mind swam and I felt dizzy.

"Why did you lick my foot."

"To heal it."

"Do you lick people in the ER?"

"Yes."

"What about HIV, Hepatitis, whatever else they might bring in?"

"I'm immortal, Xandra. Nothing they have can kill me. I have no immune system to speak of because I am already dead. So nothing they carry can bond to my own system."

"I feel sick." I thought I was going to throw up. I pushed against him, and this time he let me move. I hung my head between my knees and sighed. I felt him rubbing my back. It was soothing. And ironic. The vampire was a walking contradiction.

"Tell me truthfully, why me?" I looked up and straight into those dark blue eyes. He blinked. No flinching, no averting his gaze.

"You remind me of what I have lost."

"Any human could."

"Yes, but you remind me of my life before I was turned."

"Were you married?"

"My wife died giving birth to a stillborn son. I left on the crusade soon after, and fell in love in my travels. She was married, and noble. Rich, well curved, made for bearing children, for making love. I didn't speak her language, but her husband had been a mercenary with men from my land, and she spoke some of my language. She told me he beat her, and told her she was worthless. She had four beautiful daughters, but he wanted a son. We all wanted sons then. I laid with her, got her with my child. Her husband knew as soon as the boy was born that he was not the father. And that is how my nose came to be broken. And how my heart came to be broken, when he killed my lover and our son in front of me. I wanted to die after that. I sought out death in the holy land. But it wasn't until I returned to Kiev that I found death. Another woman, who reminded me of my lost lover, took me to her bed, and as we consummated our lust, she brought me over."

"And I remind you of both of these women?" I was puzzled. And disturbed

"Just of my lover."

"I don't want to be the woman who reminds you of your dead girlfriend." Ick.

"You more than remind me. Everything about you is like her."

"Even more reason to not get involved with you. You're still hung up on a woman after 1000 years? That's not cool. I don't want to spend the rest of my mortal life trying to measure up to some broad who's been dead for a thousand years." I pushed away from him and stood up. My foot didn't hurt at all.

"Xandra, it's not how you are thinking -"

"Regardless, I think you probably ought to go. And leave me be." I pointed at the door, "I'm not some replacement chick. I am my own person."

"Alexandra, I don't want a replacement. You're not letting me finish." He looked completely exasperated. I rolled my eyes.

"Oh by all means then. Finish. Tell me how again how you've been fascinated with me forever because I remind you of some dead Ukranian woman. I suppose I should be overjoyed you're even paying attention to me too?" I was snarky. I was offended. I wanted him to understand that just because I was a lonely, mid-thirties spinster, he couldn't just swoop in and make me feel grateful he was paying attention. He sighed heavily (I didn't think vampires even bothered breathing) and grabbed me by the arms. He gave me a quick shake to shut me up.

"Alexandra! That's not what I'm trying to say. It's," he paused, trying to find the words, "I think," he looked me straight in the eyes, "I think you are her, Alexandra. A reincarnation. I think we were destined to be together, and I think I finally found you again."

My heart stopped, I was sure of it. He looked completely earnest. A slow pain began creeping through my chest, and I felt like I couldn't breathe.

"I can't be her. I'm Irish."

Sneaky Old Ladies...

2009-09-01T08:59:00.000-07:00

I'm not sure how much gross-out fodder I'll wind up with in my new job, but I certainly am getting some comedy.

One of the units I'm working on is a lock-down unit for the elderly - about half of them are elopement risks because of dementia, and the other half are fully cognitive but have need of assistance with their activities of daily living (ADLs).

One of our residents is this absolutely adorable, teeny little Portuguese lady. Because she is Portuguese, I'm not sure how advanced her dementia is, but I think most of the problem is that she is an elopement risk that doesn't speak any English.

Yesterday afternoon, she tried to lead me off to put her into her pajamas at about 4pm. She'd already tried that with a care aide, and been told no, so she was pulling the old 'I'll ask Dad then' trick. I said she should stay up and dressed until supper, and she seemed to accept that. But started gesturing madly at her boobs, and saying something that sounded like 'rash'. So I told her once I had given the med that were in my hands, I'd come check out her boobs (Seriously. What the hell has happened to my life?) She thanked me effusively, (I know how to say thank you in Portuguese now!) and off she toodled.

I finished my med round right as dinner was arriving, and she was instantly no longer interested in checking out the rash under her breasts (in the sub-boobular region). As soon as she finished eating though, she tracked me down, and started going on about her sub-boobular rash.

I followed her to her room, and she started stripping down to show me the rash. I helped her get her top off, and she lifted her breasts and then laughed at me! There was NO rash!

She started pointing at her nightie and chattering away and laughing. Sneaky devil had totally yanked one over on the nurse by convincing the nurse there was a rash that needed to be investigated, when all there was was a deep and abiding desire to get into jammies early.

I helped her into her nightie and housecoat, laughing the whole time. My little Portuguese resident was having a good chuckle herself, and carried on with her nighttime routine after I'd helped her out.

Totally cracked me up. The reality of the situation is, she was very clever to think of something medically appropriate to get me to help her. Because she's so independent and needs so little help, she's often left to last for assistance with her evening care. She obviously wanted to be first for a change and took matters into her own hands. Which I think is awesome. And funny as hell.

More Bad Things tomorrow, I think.

Placeholder

2009-08-27T00:30:00.000-07:00

Something's up with our modem - we think it got fried in an electrical storm last week, and are currently waiting on a new one to arrive (however, tonight I could get online, so who knows).

I've started my new job, I am heading out of town this weekend, and promise there will be more Bad Things coming.

Bad Things (8)

2009-08-18T21:11:00.001-07:00

I checked my hair one last time in the mirror by the front door, checked my teeth for rogue greenery or lipstick, squinched my nose up and pursed my lips and generally made a nervous and goofy face at myself. I triple checked my collar, to make sure it way laying nicely. I assessed my butt in the full length mirror as well as I could, making sure that there was no weird splotches on my dark jeans. The teppan restaurant was nice, but still jeansworthy, if that made any sense. I didn't want Dr. Eriksson thinking I was too eager to impress him, or that I was inexcusably old by wearing slacks. Even saying the word slacks seemed old. So jeans it had to be. And there were no weird splotches on them.

It was a good thing there weren't because the doorbell rang, jolting me from my ass-essment. I was still giggling at my pun when I opened the door. Chris was breathtaking. Clearly he wasn't worried if the word slacks aged him. He was in a dark khaki pair of slacks, a white tee-shirt and a blazer. A blazer! He looked like an anthropology professor, more than an ER doctor. For whatever reason, ER doctors had always screamed of denim and motorcycles on their off-hours.

"I had no idea your hair was so long." Chris reached out to touch it. I always wore my hair up at work, either in a ponytail or a topknot of some sort, usually with at least one pen sticking out of it.

"Well, it looks better long."

"You always wear it up." He was running his fingers through my hair. It was uncomfortably intimate.

"Exactly. Because it's long enough to put up."

"Well, it's a gorgeous colour. Consider wearing down more."

"On surgical?"

"Point taken. Well, shall we go?" He slid a hand behind my back to lead me out the door. I turned and threw the bolt, and headed to his car. I had to suppress a giggle when he held the door open for me. It was a beautiful, new, completely sensible and reliable Volvo. I couldn't help it. My thoughts flitted back to the vampire. He was evil, despicable and definitely was the type of man who would wear jeans to a teppan restaurant. And would drive something dangerous and sporty. Not a Volvo Wagon, regardless of how new it was. And while I made the comparison, I cursed the vampire for being right last night.

"What's so funny?" Dr. Eriksson asked.

"I - uh - well, it's kinda - uh -"

"Spit it out, Xandra."

"Well, aren't Volvos more of a soccer mom kind of phenomenon?" I glanced at him out of the corner of my eye, trying to smirk. He flushed bright red.

"I don't actually own this car." He admitted.

"No?"

"No. I have a C70. Which while still a Volvo is much sportier. It's in having the window replaced right now though. So this is a courtesy car." He pulled away from my house and headed toward the restaurant. I still wanted to giggle.

"I don't think there's such a thing."

"As a sporty Volvo?"

"Yeah."

"I guess that means I owe you a second date, just to prove it." He laughed.

"Or not. You might think I'm a complete jerk by the end of tonight."

"Somehow I doubt it."

"Dr. Eriksso-"

"Chris. We're on a date. Call me Chris, please."

"Sorry. Chris, you don't really know me."

"I've seen you around. You're always friendly, you give excellent care, and you chart like a machine. What's not to like?"

"You're basing your likelihood of continued attraction to me on my ability to chart?" I was incredulous. He was beautiful. I was beginning to wonder how he made it through med school though as clearly, he was empty headed.

"Not just that."

"Right." The rest of the drive was quiet, as we both contemplated each other. Chris Eriksson was a little strange. Not that I had much experience dating, and what experience I'd had was tempered by the knowledge that the men I'd thought were cool and not the least bit strange had all wound up a bad match. I hoped that some quirkiness in his personality meant that he would be a good man and maybe even a nice match. Not that I was looking for a match, but really, who was I kidding? Of course I wanted at least a steady date night.

When we walked into the restaurant, I saw that I was very under dressed. I should have worn slacks after all. I had to reassess my opinion of Chris again. Maybe he'd called ahead. I'd only ever been there before for lunch, and jeans had been okay then.

"I'm sorry. I didn't realize I shouldn't be in jeans." I apologized. Chris looked surprised.

"I didn't realize those were jeans. They're too dark. And it's dark in here. No one will know." He squeezed my hand to reassure me. I felt a little jolt of electricity between us and began to relax. He must have felt it too because our conversation became much more easy and interesting. He told me about med school, and his hobbies and we ate without noticing any of the other people around us, we were both so focused and interested in one another. It was probably the best first date I'd ever been on.

"So do you like working the ER?" I was curious. I had been interested in applying to an ER rotation, just for the experience. I thought I might have to reconsider if things with Chris progressed. I couldn't work with someone I dated. I'd learned that the hard way before.

"Yeah. It's a pretty flexible schedule, and the staff is good. There's a lot of trauma, which keeps us on our toes. We don't see a lot of coughs and minor injuries in our ER."

"I'd noticed that."

"Were you thinking about applying to the straight nights line that's currently open?" He read my mind.

"I've thought about it. But I don't like nights enough to work them all the time."

"You'd work with me a lot."

"You work straight nights?"

"Yup. My student loans are ridiculous. I want to pay them off this year, so I opted to take a straight nights contract for higher pay."

"And yet you have a brand new Volvo?"

"Well, I have to look the part." He winked. I laughed and thought about my clunky old car. I was actually in good shape for a 10 year old car, but it was due for replacement. I knew the straight nights line was at a higher rate of pay than regular rotations just because of the shift differential. While I was lost in thought, he slipped his hand in mine and led me out of the restaurant. It was a cool evening, and I shivered when the night air hit me. Chris wrapped his arm around my shoulder to warm me up, but the breeze cut me bare.

Chris held my door open for me again while I got into the car. We made idle chat during the drive back to my place and and awkward air settled between us as we slowed in front of my house.

"Would you like to come in for a glass of wine?" I didn't really know if I wanted him to say yes or no. I was definitely attracted, but a gorgeous, successful doctor? I didn't know if I rated a nightcap in his universe.

"I'd love to." He slid into the parking space beside my car. I held the door and ushered him in to my spotless home. I'd spent most of the morning combating dizzy spells and cleaning, and now everything in the house was in its place. There were even fresh sheets on the bed, god forbid things progressed that far.

"You have excellent taste, did you decorate your house on your own?" He assessed my living room, dining room and kitchen in one sweeping glance. I opened the fridge to get the wine out and opened.

"Thank you. I did." I pulled the cork with little struggle, and poured two glasses. I turned to take Chris's drink to the living room and he was standing right behind me. I dropped the glass and it bounced, splashed and shattered. Chris dropped into a crouch and started picking up shards of glass from all over the floor and around my feet.

"Don't move, Xandra."

"You scared me half to death." I gasped. He pulled open the cupboard door beside my legs and started dropping the broken glass pieces into the garbage can. He reached around me for a dish cloth and wiped up the mess and then gently took hold of one of my feet.

"You have a piece of glass in the top of your foot."

"Can you pull it out?"

"Do you have a first aid kit?"

"In the bathroom, up the stairs on the left, under the sink. In the drawer beside the sink, there's a sterile dressing tray, if you need it."

"Lifting from work?"

"No, left over from a friend's surgery. I took care of her dressing changes at home." Chris stood, placed his hands on my hips and lifted me, effortlessly, onto the counter. I gasped. I was not a lightweight. I stared down at my foot, rather than scold him for his actions, and saw the chunk of glass sticking out of the top of my foot. It had embedded right between the bones leading to my big toe and next toe.

Chris was back in an instant, turning on the overhead light, and setting out the dressing tray. He pulled the tweezers out and carefully tugged the shard out of my foot. I gasped in pain.

"There's no sutures in your kit."

"No, just steri-strips." I sucked my breath through my teeth, as though that would ease the pain.

"Steri-strips aren't going to hold it together. You put weight on your foot."

"But this is the top."

"It will still split when you stand on it."

"Do we seriously need to go to work on our night off?" I sighed. Chris smiled and cleaned the wound out. His head was in the way, so I couldn't exactly tell what he was doing.

"No, we don't need to go in. I'll think of something." He taped a large gauze pad against the cut. He helped me off the counter and led me over to the couch. He propped my foot up on a garbage bag covered pillow on the ottoman, and got us each a glass of wine. We toasted my foot, our date and soccer moms, and drank in silence. He was struggling to make a decision. About my foot, I supposed. It would be easy enough for him to pop into the ER and grab some sutures and come back to fix me up. I looked up to suggest it just as Chris leaned in to kiss me. All my earlier thoughts of comparison flew from my head as he pulled me close and deepened the kiss. I responded. Oh, boy, I responded. He pulled back to trail kisses down my neck and nibbled my throat. A few inches lower and he would find the marks from the vampire's bite the night before. I drifted away, relaxed, as Chris kissed the tension out of my body. His hands roamed near to where he was kissing, but always moved, lead his mouth to his next destination.

My eyes flew open with a sudden thought, and I fought to relax as Chris kissed my arm, my hand, my leg, my foot. And then licked it. I jerked away in shock.

"What the-"

"Relax, Alexandra." Chris's voice was lower, sounded rough. I sat straight up and stared down at him. His shaggy blonde hair fell across his face and my foot. I tried to pull my foot out of his hand.

"Did you just lick my wound?" My foot tingled where he'd licked it. He kissed his way back up my body, and I felt myself relaxing again. Of course he hadn't licked the wound. How disgusting would that be? His mouth met mine again and I tasted the telltale warm coppery wetness on his lips and my eyes flew open again. He had licked my foot. I pushed him away from my neck and forced him to look up at me. His eyes had changed colour from a light blue to the intense navy blue I remembered from the night before.

"Christian? The vampire?" I whispered.

Bad Things (7)

2009-08-12T09:50:00.000-07:00

The pain in my neck was searing. It was like two hot needles were being driven into me. I screamed and tried to struggle, but the vampire held me fast against the door. His weight on me was so great I couldn't draw in my breath deep enough to try to scream a second time. I whimpered instead, and felt hot tears streaming down my face. I put my hand up on his shoulder and pushed, to no avail. I was too weak.

"Please, stop. Please." My voice trembled. He still drank. The pain continued, and I started to feel lightheaded, and numb. Whether it was lack of blood or just the prolonged pain, I was uncertain. A fog settled around my thoughts and I wondered, as I distanced myself from the situation, how quickly he drank. I wondered how long it would take to drain me. I wondered if he truly intended to kill me, and then my mind wandered to how I would be found. My house was a mess. There were dishes piled in the sink, a mountain of laundry waiting for my days off. My bed was unmade and there was a pile of books beside it on the floor that needed to be returned to the library. My floors were dirty, in need of mopping or vacuuming, there were dust bunnies as big as my head floating around the hardwood. I felt a panic that only a neat freak would feel as I thought of all the people who would come into my messy house if I were to die.

"No! Stop! Stop!" I cried, with a little more force. He kept drinking. I clawed at his shoulders, tried kicking at him. It was futile but the fear of my messy house being exposed drove me to struggle as much as I could.

"You have to stop! You can't kill me! My house is a mess!!" I cried, hot tears burning my cheeks. It struck me as particularly ironic that my only concern was my messy house, but it represented everything I still had to accomplish in life. "I have a mountain of laundry that must be done before you can kill me! Please!" I was begging. The pain in my neck began to recede, and I heard a low growling noise. It quickly turned to laughter.

"Your house is messy?" He laughed, but not for a moment did he let up the pressure holding me in place, "You have laundry, and so I can't kill you?" He lifted me, as though I were weightless, and carried me into the living room. He sat down on the couch and cradled me in his lap. The tears that had been streaming down my face suddenly turned into sobs of relief.

"Please." It was the only word I could choke out. With unbelievable gentleness, he stroked my hair.

"You are a strange creature, Alexandra. Far too curious to kill."

"I'm not strange at all." I wiped at my eyes. I knew I was going to be dangerously dehydrated from the blood loss, and didn't want to exacerbate the issue by crying.

"You are. You care more about the state of your house than your life."

"That's not strange. How would you feel if a bunch of strangers were investigating your murder and were confused as to where the struggle had occurred because of the mess?" I snapped, indignant. He laughed again, and kissed my forehead.

"You are too precious to destroy, Alexandra."

"Great. Psychotic vampire thinks I'm fantastic." My fear was quickly turning back into anger, "by the way, how do you know my name?"

"I know much about you."

"How?" I demanded, using my cranky nurse tone. He was unaffected.

"You need to call in to work. You are in no shape to care for sick people tonight." He reached over to the side table and handed me the phone. He was right. I dialed staffing and informed them I would be absent. We stared at each other in silence after I hung up. The phone rang and startled me out of the staring contest.

"Xan? You never call in sick. Are you okay?" It was Erica.

"I've been really dizzy and lightheaded this evening." It wasn't technically a lie.

"How's your blood sugar?" Erica was very no-nonsense, and I appreciated it.

"I haven't made it to the bathroom to check yet." I admitted. I could hear her sigh on the other end of the phone line.

"Do you need me to send someone over to check on you?"

"No!" I exclaimed, "No, Erica, I appreciate it, but I look like hell and feel about ten times worse. I'll stagger into the bathroom to check my blood sugar as soon as the spins settle down. I'm sure I'll be fine. I've probably just got a bug that's affecting me."

"Maybe you need to slow down. I know this pre-diabetes diagnosis has scared you and you're working hard on getting your health together, but maybe you're moving too fast." Erica sounded concerned. She'd be badgering me to get a second test since my first results had come back, not believing them. The vampire tugged on my hair, which I took to be a signal to hang up.

"Maybe you're right. I'll take it easy now that I'm on days off again. Thanks for calling, E."

"Get better." She hung up. I elbowed the vampire in the ribs. From the surprized groan, I knew he wasn't expecting it.

"You took too long on the phone." He complained. I rolled my eyes.

"Any less and she would have been suspicious. Did you want me to call in cavalry?"

"Ah, you are caustic again. You must be starting to recover."

"What is your name?" I ignored his jibe, and extricated myself from his lap to really look him over. He was breathtaking. Easily as handsome as Dr. Eriksson, in a very similar way. Tall, well put together. It kind of sickened me that even after he'd attacked me, I still found him gorgeous.

"You may call me Christian."

"Hardly!" I snorted.

"I cannot help what my parents named me."

"How old are you?"

"I was 28 when I was turned."

"That's not what I asked."

"My nose was broken when the nasal on my helm smashed into it from the force of a warhammer. I don't know what year I was born, but I know I followed King Sigurd into the holy land."

"You were on a crusade?" I was incredulous.

"Yes." He was near 1000 years old.

"Why me?"

"Why not?" I got the impression he wasn't trying to be difficult.

"You killed that girl. Why not me?"

"You intrigue me." He shrugged. My body shuddered as realization washed across me.

"How long have you been watching me?"

"Since I came here. A few months, a year? You lose sense of time when you are as old as I."

"Why?"

"You are beautiful yet you are lonely."

"I have a date tomorrow night."

"A man from the hospital?"

"A doctor."

"Perhaps I will kill him."

"You need to leave."

"I am still hungry, Alexandra."

"Go find a cat then, asshole. But leave my date alone." I pulled myself up from the couch and headed to the kitchen to find something to eat. Christian used his super stealthy vampire speed to beat me to the kitchen, not that I was moving terribly quickly to begin with. He pressed up against me, and cornered me between the fridge and wall. My heart started to pound again, and I immediately began to feel dizzy. I braced myself using his shoulders, and stared up at him.

"Now wha-"I started, but was rudely interrupted by his mouth crushing against mine. He was kissing me. Thoroughly. And really, really well. I had no idea what to do, but felt myself responding regardless. Just as I was beginning to forget what Christian was, he pulled away.

"Think of that tomorrow while you are with your doctor." He turned and stalked out of my home, slamming the door behind him.

Bad Things (6)

2009-08-11T10:45:00.000-07:00

After the sniffing incident with the vampire and the awkward interest of Dr. Eriksson, I determined to take my weight loss effort a little more seriously. I started walking my neighbourhood, adding a block every day until I was walking for about an hour before returning home. I was eating more vegetables and was planning to forgo my comfort ice cream after hard shifts.

Despite sleeping late, I laced up my shoes for my evening stroll and headed out of my small condo, thankful my shift was only an 8 hour tonight. It meant I wouldn't be completely wacky for my "big date" tomorrow, but it also meant I would have time for a long, hot shower when I got in. It was a cool clear evening, reminding me that days were getting shorter and the snow would soon be upon us, which would dictate a change in my exercise habits. I hated the cold weather with a passion, and tended to hibernate in winter. I headed toward McTavish's, to pick up a bottle of wine in case Dr. Eriksson wanted to come in after he dropped me off. I figured I should pick up coolers too, as Anne would be coming over the next night for Chick Flick Mockery and date decompression.

Every phone pole between my place and the strip mall that housed McTavish's had warning signs posted on it. The cougar had never been tracked and the assumption was that it was still out there, waiting to attack another unsuspecting person. My assumption, however, was that there was no cougar, and it was the mysterious vampire that had killed the girl, and thus, I had been planning my trips outside accordingly. Other than leaving for work, I avoided being outside after dark. As my thoughts strayed to things paranormal, I didn't realize that the evening sun had dipped below the horizon.

The door to McTavish's tinkled with the Christmas bells they left on it to announce new customers. McTavish himself was behind the counter.

"Good Evening, Xandra! How've you been keeping?" His accent reminded me of the trip to Ireland I'd treated myself to when I graduated from nursing school.

"Does it mean I'm in danger of alcoholism if my local liquor store owner knows me by name?" I laughed.

"No, it means you're a good girl and support local business. And you've not been in much lately, regardless." He chuckled with good nature.

"No, I've been picking up overtime and mostly been on nights the last month."

"Were you working when that poor girl was attacked?" Mr. McTavish grew solemn.

"Yes, but she didn't make it up to my unit, I'm afraid."

"Helluva thing, that." He shook his head, "Anyhow. Enough of that. What'll it be for you tonight?"

"I need a nice bottle of white wine. Any recommendations?" I called over my shoulder as I chose a case of coolers for movie night. He popped out from behind the counter and headed over to the wines.

"This is good, and not expensive." He handed me a bottle of something from a vineyard down south. I nodded. I knew next to nothing about wine. He rang through my order and carefully bagged the wine when I told him I'd walked.

"Be careful of that cougar, Xandra. It's getting dark and will be more difficult to see it coming. Hurry home now, love." He called from the counter as I headed back out. It was dark out. I decided to head straight home instead of taking the longer route I'd originally planned to take. The pedestrian path that lead from the strip mall to my street was long, and unlit, but was the shortest way home. My heart started thumping from nerves.

"Well, at least I'll get my heart rate up from fear." I muttered to myself. I squared my shoulders and focussed on the end of the path, where the street lights near my condo were, and started into the path. Every time a leaf rustled, I quickened my pace until I realized I was almost running. I slowed back down, scolding myself inside my head until I heard footsteps behind me. I sped up again. I wasn't going to try to run, which would have been ridiculous, carrying a case of coolers and a bottle of wine, but I wasn't dawdling either.

I finally reached the last few feet of the path, and the street lights began casting shadows. I slowed and breathed deeply, thinking I was safe. The footsteps behind me kept up though and I quickly turned off the path and headed toward my house. The condos I live in were adjoined townhouse style and I had the corner unit, closest to the road I'd just turned onto. I quickened my pace again, scared to look behind me and made a bee line to my door, cursing that I'd forgotten to turn on the porch light before I left. I put the bags down to unlock it and as I was fitting my key in the bolt was I slammed against the door.

The attacker put one arm across the back of my neck and pushed my face into the door and held one of my arms behind me with his other. My head turned unwillingly and out of the corner of my eye, my fears were confirmed. It was the vampire.

"Open the door." He ordered, and relaxed his hold on me enough that I could finish unlocking my door. Before I could turn the knob to get in, and hopefully, if the mythology surrounding vampires was true, get away from him, he tightened his hold on me again.

"Ow!" I was terrified, but also pissed off. Pissed off at myself for not noticing how close to sunset it was when I headed out, pissed off at him for being so rough with me, pissed off with the world for rotating and causing the sun the set, just pissed off. I tried to break out of his grip, without any luck.

"Invite me in." He demanded.

"No!" I exclaimed, and tried to open the door again. I figured he was pushing against me hard enough that if I could get the door open, I would fall right into safety.

"Invite me in, or I will tear out your throat right here on your front step."

"Invite you in so you can tear out my throat inside my house? No way!" I started to struggle and inhaled deeply, preparing to scream. His hand came across my mouth and nose, blocking my attempt, as well as my air supply.

"Invite me in, damn it! I'm not planning on killing you tonight." He hissed in my ear. I shook my head no, still unable to speak, and he slammed it against the door. I saw stars. I twisted, trying to get to the door knob, and he turned me to face him, pinning both my arms above me with one hand. He was just as beautiful as I remembered and just as ridiculously strong as vampire tales suggested. He dipped his head to my neck and smelled me, as he had the first time we'd met. If it was possible, I tensed up even more, waiting for him to bite. He came away from my neck and stared at me.

"Invite me in. Don't scream or I will kill you. Invite me into your house." And suddenly, more than anything in the world, I wanted him inside my house. I nodded and he removed his hand from my mouth. He slackened his grip and I was able to turn toward my door to open it, but as soon as our eyes broke contact I was panicked again, and fumbled with the door knob. The door swung open and I tried to follow it without inviting him inside, but he caught me and turned my head to face him.

"I said invite me in." He demanded.

"Please, no."

"Invite me in, Alexandra." It was more of a request than an order that time. His voice was soft and seductive.

"I have to work tonight. No, please." He knew my name. How did he know my name?

"You're overworked, Alexandra. Invite me in and you can call in."

"No, I can't, I'm the team lead tonight. Please, just let me go." I begged. I felt near to tears, wondering who would find my lifeless body if I let him into my house. Anne? Dr. Eriksson? A random and anonymous police officer?

"Alexandra, you won't enjoy it if I force you to invite me in. Invite me in of your own free will, and I will spare you tonight." For the first time I noticed a slight accent to his speech, and found myself intrigued through my terror.

"You won't kill me?"

"Not tonight."

"So you'll kill me another time?"

"It is my nature, Alexandra."

"But you'll kill me if I don't let you in tonight?"

"Yes." He said it simply, without conscience.

"Come in then, goddamnit." He let go of me, and pushed through the door, dragging me behind him.

"You fucking suck, you know?" I snapped as I grabbed my booze and slammed the door, dumping the bottles on the shoe rack. He reached across me and threw the bolt.

"Also in my nature." He shrugged, pushed me against the back of the door and bit me.

Bad Things (5)

2009-08-09T19:35:00.000-07:00

I had hopes that I'd be able to sneak into the ER and file my morgue paperwork without catching Dr. Eriksson's eye. I made my way with purpose to the log book, and was filling out all the required information.

"So, how about it, Alexandra?" Dr. Eriksson's smooth voice surprised me, and I jumped.

"How about what, Doctor?" I was all business. I felt uncomfortable with his assessment that I was 'beautiful' and rather than acting awkward, I chose to ignore that the incident had ever occured.

"Dinner? On your next set of days off? On me?" He smiled and my body betrayed my resolve. My knees felt weak, my pulse fluttered, and my cheeks burned.

"Uh, sure. This is my first day back though." I stumbled over the sentence, my tongue feeling thick and wooden.

"So you should be off on Friday?" He pulled out his pocket calendar. I counted forward in my head and nodded.

"Yeah, I'll probably be a little goofy, it's my first day off after my nights, but that would be, um, nice."

"Do you like sushi?"

"Uh, no."

"What about other Japanese?"

"Sure. Just not sushi."

"Not a fan of raw fish?"

"No, I like sashimi just fine. I don't like seaweed, and I'm not crazy about whatever it is in the rice in a sushi roll. However, the Teppan Palace is nice, it has good sushi, and excellent Teppan cooking."

"Then it's a date. I'll email you this morning." He put away the pocket calendar, picked up a chart and disappeared into Minor Treatment. I looked over at the unit clerk.

"Did that just happen?" I asked her. She laughed.

"Darlin', you made the right decision. If I weren't married and old enough to be his mother, I'd be all over that. Oh hell, even old enough to be his mother, I'd be all over that."

I couldn't help but smile.

"Yes, well, I'm a little rusty on the dating front."

"Honey, anything you wear is gonna be more flattering than those scrubs."

"True." I headed back up to the unit, and finished charting on Mrs. J. I discharged her from the unit, called housekeeping to clean her room and sent her chart to records. It was time for another bedcheck, and fortunately, everyone was safe, sound and asleep. On my way back to the nurses station, I made myself a cup of instant coffee. It was swill, but it was caffeinated swill, and I was fading and on countdown. Two hours left until I could head home to bed.

I took a patient chart that needed the dressing change reported into the report room and sat with my coffee, writing. Hazel burst into the room, again. Student nurses lived on red bull and adrenaline, it seemed. It was the same when I was in training too, but time had mercifully blurred the memory of my young, perky nightowl, nightshift ways.

"Dude! When were you going to spill?" She sat down across the table from me.

"Spill what?"

"About Dr. Tightpants!"

"Dr. Tightpants?" Erica looked as confused as I felt.

"Indeed. Dr. Tightpants?" I went back to charting the wound I'd cleaned earlier. Hazel sighed.

"Doctor Christian L. Eriksson, ER stud extreme."

"What about him? I laughed and hoped it would cover the blushing. Erica smothered a giggle behind her hand. His appeal was universal. It was official. Our student knew his full name, including initial. He must be Very Big News to the nursing student crowd.

"Well, how did it feel?" She demanded. I was now confused, and hoped my expression relayed my confusion adequately.

"It was flattering, I guess?"

"Flattering? That doesn't make any sense!" Hazel exclaimed.

"Well, sure it does. He asked me to dinner, I was flattered. It's not like he threw me down on the desk and shagged me."

"He asked you out?!" Hazel's excited squeal reminded me she was in her early twenties and had too much energy.

"Hazel. It is 5am. People are sleeping, or at least they were before you squealed. Appropriate behaviour at appropriate times please." Erica glared at her and then looked at me, "and yeah, he asked you out?"

"Well, what the hell were you asking about, Hazel?"

"I wanted to know what it was like giving post-mortem care with him."

"Oh." I felt stupid.

"And?"

"He's strong and competent and very respectful of the dead." I could feel the blush creeping up my neck and cheeks.

"And so of course, he looked over the corpse of our beloved Mrs. J., and realized he had to have you, and asked you on a date?" Hazel made it sound like a romance novel.

"Uh, no. He was respectful enough to wait until after I had taken Mrs. J. to the morgue."

"So where's he taking you, Xan?" Erica was still chuckling, probably over the twisted romantic image of Dr. Eriksson asking me out across a corpse, beloved or otherwise.

"For dinner. On my days off."

"Ooooh, hopefully he'll take you out for Scandanavian. I hear they make delicious sausage." She shot me a lascivious wink. Despite the crudeness of the comment, it put me at ease.

"You're sick, Erica."

"Ever had the meatballs at IKEA? Yum yum yum, Xan." She made a slurpy noise to go along with her comment. I tossed a crumpled up ball of paper at her. She laughed, ducked and retaliated. It was the perfect way to end the shift.

BBQ Pizza (Or, And Now, For Something Completely Different)

2009-08-07T19:41:00.001-07:00

Inspired by Jen from A2EatWrite, I'm offering up a summer recipe I love. It's not as healthy as her offerings usually are, but it is delicious in its inherent naughtiness.

Summer is one of those times of year when I despise cooking because it heats up the house so badly. I live in a place where central a/c is not the norm, so anything that adds heat to the house is the enemy for the months of July and August. As a result, we BBQ a lot (or we grill a lot, depending on which you feel is appropriate for describing cooking on one of these:

At any rate, by mid-July I'm usually sick of the usual fare. A number of years ago, I was crashing with some friends at one of their friends places, and he made us pizza on the BBQ. I was instantly in love. And it's an affair that has lasted to this day. Not with him, but the pizza.

Here's what you need:

• Pilsbury pizza crust (or homemade, whatever, but for the amount, it needs to be equivalent to the pilsbury crust)
• pizza sauce
• 2 cooked teriyaki chicken breasts, diced
• 1 green pepper, diced
• ~1 cup of feta, crumbled
• 1 cup of cheddar or mozza, crumbled
• olive oil
• corn meal

Instructions:

Preheat the BBQ on high.

Take a cookie sheet and invert it, then spread some cornmeal on it. Lay out your pizza dough on the sheet and stretch it out to make it just a bit bigger than it came out of the can. Spread olive oil on the top of the dough with a brush.

Head back to the BBQ. Turn it down to low heat and flip the dough DIRECTLY onto the grill with the oiled side down. Put the cookie sheet aside, you'll need it soon. Use your fingers or a fork to quickly fix any floppy downy bits that have slipped between the grill. Spread olive oil on the cornmealy side with a brush. Cover the BBQ and wait about 5 minutes. Check the dough, it should be browned but not burned. With your BBQ flipper and tongs, flip the dough over, so it is cornmeal side down.

On the cooked side you have just turned up, spread pizza sauce, add cheese, chicken, green peppers, feta. Close grill lid and let cook until the cheeses have melted to the consistency you love the most.

When the cheese is done how you like it, use your BBQ tools to pull the pizza up onto the cookie sheet. Turn off your BBQ and head inside. Nom down some delicious pizza!

Here's the nutritional info, as best as I could figure it out from SparkRecipes.com

I based it on 4 servings, because chances are you'll want more than 1 piece, and a 1/4 pizza serving is pretty filling.


4 Servings

Amount Per Serving

Calories		420.5

Total Fat		21.1 g

	Saturated Fat	12.4 g

	Polyunsaturated Fat	1.3 g

	Monounsaturated Fat	5.3 g

Cholesterol		131.5 mg

Sodium		1,033.5 mg

Potassium		564.4 mg

Total Carbohydrate		14.7 g

	Dietary Fiber	1.7 g

	Sugars	1.3 g

Protein		41.7 g


Vitamin A	15.5 %

Vitamin B-12	21.9 %

Vitamin B-6	47.0 %

Vitamin C	31.8 %

Vitamin D	0.8 %

Vitamin E	5.8 %

Calcium	42.2 %

Copper	7.5 %

Folate	7.7 %

Iron	12.1 %

Magnesium	15.1 %

Manganese	9.6 %

Niacin	71.7 %

Pantothenic Acid	16.5 %

Phosphorus	52.5 %

Riboflavin	33.0 %

Selenium	44.3 %

Thiamin	12.8 %

Zinc	20.2 %

*Percent Daily Values are based on a 2,000 calorie diet. Your daily values may be higher or lower depending on your calorie needs.

My favourite toppings for this are thai peanut sauce, teriyaki chicken, feta cheese, green and red peppers and some mozza. So delicious.

Bad Things (4)

2009-08-07T09:12:00.000-07:00

It was mid-shift and I was doing a standard bed check. Post-operative care can be pretty boring at 0300, when everyone is sleeping, but I still have a responsibility to ensure they are sleeping, not writhing in agony, or, god forbid, dying. It was with a certain amount of trepidation that I made my way through the halls with my tiny penlight. It had been so quiet for weeks, our ward wasn't even at half capacity. It's a recipe for disaster. Nurses don't tend to be particularly superstitious, but when it's slow, an ominous cloud settles over the staff and we wait. We wait, terrified to say it's been slow because to comment out loud is a jinx that will, without doubt, lead to being oversubscribed and understaffed.

I poked my head into the private room of a frail old woman who'd had a routine abdominal procedure that hadn't gone particularly well. She was sweet and pleasant and despite having her on the floor for over a month, we all adored her. Usually, the shelf life on a bedridden post-op patient was less than a week. But Mrs. J., as we had come to call her, was pleasant and friendly. Her room was too quiet. I slipped in the door, careful to not let too much light from the hall in, and used the penlight to make my way to her bed, listening the whole while for the sound of her breathing. Nothing.

"Mrs. J.? It's Alexandra, dear. I just need to check your vitals." I had a sneaking suspicion I didn't need to actually address her. Even in the dim light, she was too still. I pulled the switch on her bedlight, and took her wrist in my hand. I was reassured by its warmth, but my hope was dashed when I couldn't feel her pulse. I gently rolled her onto her back and used my stethoscope to check her heart. Nothing. No breathing, no heart rate, no response to being spoken to. I pulled my knuckles down her sternum. It was the fastest way to check if she was just deeply asleep, despite my assessment. She did not respond. I confirmed my assessment a second time, and all her vitals were the same. She had passed away at some point between my 0200 bed check and the 0300 one.

I hit the call bell. Erica's voice crackled through the intercom.

"Yes, Mrs. J.?"

"It's Xandra. I've got no vitals on Mrs. J., and she's a DNR. Can you page the ER on-call for us to declare her?"

"Sure." I heard the receiver click down. I turned the overhead light, so I could prepare Mrs. J. for the doctor's final assessment. I carefully laid her on her back, and stopped her IV infusion. I lowered the head of the bed, and put down the side rails. I figured with the craziness down in the ER, the on-call doctor might be a few minutes, so I went to get the supplies I would need to prep her for the morgue.

I was surprised to find the doctor at the bedside when I returned, finishing up the death certificate.

"That was quick." I put the sheets and wash supplies down on the bedside table. Doctor Eriksson smiled at me.

"We slowed down considerably after we transfered the cougar attack to the OR, so I was able to get up here as soon as Erica paged me." His smile was, well, he was our own McDreamy. He was young, he was friendly. He never had an unkind word for the nurses, and he was simply stunning, physically. Tall, broad in the shoulders, built like a soccer player. He was blonde, with a Scandanavian look to him (no surprise, considering his last name). And he had the most sexy, competent hands I'd ever seen. Whether he was starting an IV that no one else seemed to be able to get, or just writing orders, his hands were strong. I'd never understood finding hands attractive until I'd seen his.

"Have you heard back about the cougar attack yet?"

"Well, they didn't manage to save her in the OR, the damage to the blood vessels was too extreme. And she'd lost so much blood. It must be a mess at the scene, she was almost completely exsanguinated. And it was a weird attack. Usually when cougars attack, they bat around the prey a little more, but her injuries were very decisive. Can I help you prep Mrs. J.? I remember when she came into the ER. What a funny lady."

"Uh, well, if you want to help, Doctor Eriksson, by all means."

"You can call me Chris, Alexandra." He moved to the side of the bed, and removed the IV. I removed the catheter and disposed of it. We carefully stripped her down and gave her a good bath before applying the toe tag and wrapping her in a sheet for transport to the morgue.

"Do you like working here, Chris?"

"I do. It's a nice facility. The staff are excellent." He turned Mrs. J. on her side so I could tuck the sheet under her, "What about you Xandra? Do you like it here?"

"I do. I grew up here though. And by here, I don't just mean in town. My Mum's the educator for the NICU, so I spent a lot of time here as a kid."

"Your mother is Alison Bond? She's taught me quite a few skills since I came here. I should have seen that. You look just like her. "

"She's much more beautiful."

"Nonsense."

"Dr. Eriksson. You are kind, but apparently you are also blind. Big girls are not beautiful."

"It's Chris. And you are." Our argument was cut off my his pager, "I have to head back down to the pit. But we're not finished, Xandra." He handed me the clipboard with all the paperwork for Mrs. J.'s passing, and headed back to the ER. I called down to the security for the assistance in transporting the body to the morgue. While I waited, I organized all the paperwork that needed to be filed downstairs.

The morgue gave me the heebs. I hated leaving people there. It was so impersonal and permanent. We wheeled Mrs. J. into the freezer and I double checked her sheet while the security guard logged the transfer. I looked to the other side of the cold room and saw the body of the cougar attack victim. Morbid curiosity took over and I snuck over to peek at her wound. I drew back the sheet and was horrified by the gaping ruin of her neck. I covered her back up and came out of the freezer. The security guard was just finishing up his paperwork.

"Can you take these forms to the ER for me? I just got paged to an altercation in the parking lot." The security guard handed me his paperwork and dashed out of the morgue. My paperwork needed to be filed in the ER too, so it wasn't a problem. Other than having to deal with Dr. Eriksson, that is.

Bad Things (3)

2009-08-06T08:21:00.000-07:00

He may as well have bit me, I decided after my days off. My mind had been constantly on him when I wasn't at work, and I found myself wandering over our encounter in my memory when I should have been focusing on work. After I re-read my charting for the fourth time without it absorbing into my brain, I threw down my pen in disgust.

"Stupid vampire. Get out of my head!" I grumbled. I thought my voice was low enough that no one would hear me.

"Alexandra?" My team, Erica, lead raised an eyebrow.

"Oh, uh-"

"You watching that show too, eh? I think Eric is hot with a capital H." She fanned herself with a chart.

"Oh, he is." I just went with it. I knew what show she meant, and I agreed wholeheartedly. But that vampire would have been much more enjoyable to have stuck in my head. Shaking the cobwebs and fangs from the dusty recesses of my imagination, I went back to charting. It was the slowest nightshift I could remember, but I wasn't about to curse us by vocalizing as much.

One of our student nurses burst into the report room where we were charting, breathless and disheveled.

"Did you hear? There's been a cougar attack over by Riverheights! Isn't that where you live, Xandra?" Hazel was practically wheezing.

"Uh, yeah. Whereabouts?"

"Central and Hammersmith."

"Xandra, that's about 2 blocks from your place!" Erica gasped. It was the corner that the complex that leased to McTavish's Cold Beer and Wine was on.

"How did they know it was a cougar?" I asked.

"The girl was mauled and her throat was all torn up. She's had 4 units so far and they aren't sure she'll make it. Apparently there was blood everywhere." Hazel spent a lot of her breaks smoking out by the ER entrance, and saw most of what when into the ambulance bays. And what she didn't see, she heard about from others spending their breaks polluting their lungs.

"4 units? That's a lot." Erica was stating the obvious.

"Not to mention the amount of plasma they pushed into her too." Hazel nodded eagerly. I could empathize. We'd be dead slow up on post-op, and rather than wish chaos on us, she was finding chaos elsewhere to share with us, so we could live calmly, and vicariously, through the ER chaos. I could learn to like a student like that. Hazel had a joy in the bizarre and curious that made her a good fit with our staff, and I think we all hoped she'd choose to apply to our unit when she finished her education.

"Anyhow, they rushed her into the OR to try to mend the damage in her neck. That hot new surgeon said the bite was down into the vascular tissue. That means the cougar got blood vessels, right?" Hazel's uncertainty had more to do with a general lack of confidence than lack of knowledge.

"Yeah. It means the cougar probably got the jugular or carotid." I responded, twirling my pen thoughtfully. A thought came unbidden into my mind and I dropped my pen with a gasp. It was him. The vampire. He'd attacked someone.

"Is she pretty?" I asked, hating myself for wondering.

"Well, she's going to have some nasty scarring if she lives, Xandra. I guess she's okay. Skinny, tanned. I didn't really see her face though."

It figured, I thought, somewhat fatalistically. Of course he wouldn't want to feed on me. I was fat and pale and refused to wear anything shorter than a pair of capris. And I was nearly 34. And vampires always liked beautiful, thin young things, regardless of the iron deficiency and lower blood volume. The thought was completely ludicrous. I didn't want to be eaten by a vampire, and yet somehow I found myself filled with a ridiculous jealousy for the near dead girl. Who'd been attacked, for all anyone knew, by a cougar. I was sick.

Cursing my imagination and the vampire, and most everything else in my life, I went back to charting the blood transfusion I'd given earlier in the evening, and pushed any twisted notions of the romance of a blood sucking monster out of my head. Maybe it was time to stop watching that show.

Bad Things, 2

2009-08-05T10:34:00.000-07:00

It was all I could do to gag down my dinner. I kept replaying the scene with the vampire over and over in my head. How long he just stood there smelling me. How frightened I was while void of panic.

How safe I had felt, while at the same time I was filled with terror.

It didn't make sense.

I pushed away my half finished dinner and decided a long, hot shower would clear my mind. I was distracted as I stripped down in my bathroom, and went through the routine out of habit, tossing my clothing across the hall into my washing machine before I lost myself in the heat of the shower and cinnamon spiced suds of my new shampoo.

It was no help. I kept inviting the memory of the gorgeous vampire back into the periphery of my thoughts, even as I struggled to plan my schedule for the week, and think about paying bills. The memory of his hands pinning my wrists above my head as he drank my scent would push through the dollar signs and shopping lists.

My casual acceptance of what he was must have thrown him. Vampires didn't exist, and yet I knew the minute he started smelling around my major vessels exactly what he was. Perhaps it was the realization of just what he was that calmed me. After all, if he didn't exist, he couldn't actually be pinning me against the wall of McTavish's Cold Beer and Wine, and I must be hallucinating. I rinsed the soap from my arms and examined my wrists carefully. Sure enough, I was bruised where he'd held me, so he must exist. And yet, everything inside me told me vampires don't exist.

"You didn't see fangs, he didn't bite you, maybe he was just crazy and thought he was a vampire." I reassured myself as I turned off the shower and reached for a towel. Of course, if he was crazy, it was certainly a waste of a beautiful man. I dried off, slipped into my housecoat and started my laundry. Mundane tasks for a mundane life, but it was mine and those tasks were satisfying in reminding me I was self-sufficient. Capable. Not lonely.

As if by magic, with that thought, my front door cracked open and my friend Anne slipped in.

"You're starting days off, right?" She asked. She didn't need to, she knew my schedule better than I did most times. I nodded as she pulled a pair of coolers out of my fridge and tossed a DVD at me.

"Latest wacky horror-romance-smutfest-chickflick, Xandra."

It was our tradition, for years, that at the start of a weekend, we would pick up a ridiculous chickflick and drink coolers and mock it. Lately, we'd been thrilled with the crush of new films that were 'paranormal romances'. They were awful. Tonight it seemed particularly ironic that my evening had played out like the beginning of one of them. The movie Anne had picked was no better than any of the past few had been.

"I've lost 6 pounds since Doc told me the results of my fasting glucose." I offered.

"Awesome."

"Apparently I still stink like high blood sugar though."

Anne shot me a look of pure bewilderment. Then leaned over and sniffed me.

"You smell like cinnamon. And maybe a little vanilla."

"Well, yeah, I just had a shower."

"So what does high blood sugar smell like?"

"Well, when we have diabetic patients who are in ketoacidosis, they smell like stale fruity booze."

"You've never smelled like stale fruity booze."

"No, but I've never been in ketoacidosis."

"You've never smelled the least bit fruity. Except when you went through that peach oil phase. Which, by the way, I am glad you are over. It was unsettling. You smelled like dessert."

"No worse than when you went throught the nutmeg vanilla perfume stage. I was always wondering what the cookie smell was."

"Anyhow. How does someone with elevated blood sugar smell?"

"I dunno."

"Then how would you know that's how you smell?"

"I may have, uh, well. I think, anyhow, that I may have, uh, met -"

"Stop waffling and spit it out, Xandra." Anne hated when I dithered.

"I think I met a vampire today?" I blurted and waited for her inevitable laughter. It never came.

"Uh, vampire?"

"He spent a lot of time smelling my carotid artery."

"But he didn't eat you."

"No. Apparently even though my blood is likely sweeter than most, and there's more of it on account of the fat, I wasn't appealing enough to turn into a meal. Not even an appetizer."

"A vampire, Xandra."

"Well, he could have been an escaped psych patient. But I don't think I've ever seen him around the hospital." I shrugged.

"You met a vampire."

"Well, maybe. I don't know. Probably not, really. I mean, they don't exist, and if they did, they wouldn't hang about outside McTavish's waiting for overworked nurses on a Tuesday night, would they?"

Anne cracked up. And then grabbed my arm in excitement. When I flinched, she looked closely at my bruised wrist.

"Holy SHIT, Xandra! You're all bruised up! A Vampire!! Was he hot?"

"Ridiculously. I mean seriously, a total waste of gorgeous man if he's just a delusional psych patient."

"Listen to yourself! Xan, we are 11 kilometres from the hospital. He's not an escapee. I knew it! I knew vampires existed. Ever since I was a kid!! Damn. No fair you got to meet one first. Do you suppose they're going to 'come out' like in the books? Do you suppose they'll 'come out' because of the books?"

"Uh, I'm pretty sure this guy wasn't on a diplomatic mission, if that's what you're suggesting."

"But he didn't bite you! He must be a tortured soul!"

"Or he wasn't that hungry. Or I wasn't his favourite blood type, or he wasn't actually a vampire."

Anne set her jaw and glared at me.

"Oh, he was a vampire alright."

"You didn't even meet him!" It was exasperating dealing with her single-mindedness sometimes.

"I just know, Xandra. I just know."

Well, great, I thought. Maybe next time, he'd go after her instead.

Bad Things

2009-08-04T09:28:00.000-07:00

Have you ever pulled a hangnail, or given yourself a paper cut and immediately stuck your bleeding finger into your mouth and sucked the blood (and apparently the pain) away? Have you noticed that your blood has a rich, metallic flavour? It's the perfect temperature, not too hot, not cold, as is seeps from your finger into your mouth.

It is these moments when I understand the appeal to the vampire.

No, I'm not saying I crave blood, and I'm not saying I like the taste when I suck the pain out of a papercut. I'm saying that despite the assertion that blood has no flavour, it does. I imagine each person has a distinct and yet similar flavour, much like a cut of beef.Recent studies suggest 85% of adults over the age of 35 in North America are pre-diabetic. Were I a vampire, I would likely find the lure of those people the most seductive - just a little sweet, with a strong tangy finish.

It came as no surprise to me then, as a 33 year old pre-diabetic, when I found myself pinned against a wall while a tall, strong man sniffed my neck deeply. He had come out of nowhere and before I'd even seen him, he had me slammed into the sidewall of the cold beer and wine store near my house. But he hadn't bit me yet. He just kept smelling me. I imagine the sweet aroma of my blood, coupled with the adrenaline in my system was much like a drug. I didn't dare move for fear of triggering his predatory response to tear my throat out. I just stood there and let him sniff me, breathing as shallowly as I could and hoping the pounding of my heart wasn't so loud that it reminded him I wasn't dead yet.

As the minutes passed, I started to feel lightheaded. Prolonged adrenal response diminishes the sugar in your blood. My smell would be changing to him, and my own blood was betraying me, reminding him that my pulse was still strong and and my body was still functioning. I took a deep, ragged breath, hoping the oxygen would push away the distant, swirling chaos of the sudden drop in my blood sugar.

"Do I frighten you?" He pulled away from my neck and stared at me.

"What kind of stupid question is that?" I was sarcastic and snarky at the best of times, but the instant I felt crappy (and the threat of fainting coupled with lightheadedness counts as crappy in my books) I was even more caustic. He looked a little surprized. He was handsome, which was no surprise, although it seemed quite stereotypical. There seemed to be a dearth of ugly, fat, or awkward vampires. I figured I was pretty safe from being turned, since the unwritten rule was 'must be fucking stunning'. The confused furrow of his brow emphasized how handsome he was, not a hair out of place, strong jaw, full lips. He was absent any scars he may have earned in life, but his nose was just a little crooked, which really made him more attractive, ironically. He was good and tall too, which always worked for me. It's really no wonder people offer themselves up to vampires, when they're that pretty.

"You're not frightened, then?" He was confused.

"Oh, I'm terrified. It seems like such an obvious question though, why would you ask it?"

"You haven't screamed. You haven't fought me. You haven't fainted, or lost control of your bladder."

"You're a million times stronger than me. It's pretty pointless to do any of those things."

"Your blood is sweet."

"Well, probably not right now."

"How do you mean?"

"My blood sugar is low enough now that I'm nauseated and lightheaded. If you were to taste it, it wouldn't have that semi-sweet slightly elevated blood sugar taste to it." I was still pinned between him and the wall. He leaned back in and drew a deep breath against my carotid artery.

"You're right. How could you know that?" The look of puzzled bemusement that he gave me only stood to make him more handsome. That wasn't fair.

"Because I know my own body," I sighed, "Dude. Look. If you aren't going to kill me, you have to let me go. You're hurting me, I'm on the verge of puking or fainting or both and I had a shitty day." He loosened his grip and I was able to lean away from the wall a bit. Without him holding me in place, I slumped, and my legs were wobbly. He pulled me back to my feet. There was nothing gentle about his manor, and my heart was still pounding, but I'd realized he was more fascinated with me than interested in making me a meal. I pulled away from him, and found myself free from his grip.

"Go." He said and turned away. I bent down to pick up my purse and when I looked back up, he was gone.

For some strange reason, deep in my bruised and battered ego, his rejection stung me. I didn't want to die, least of all at the hands of a vampire, but being too fat, too unattractive for him to feed off of was a bitter slap to my face. It didn't make sense, and I knew I was being stupid, but as I made my way home, I felt the hot tears of that girl I'd been years before, feeling put away and rejected again.

Bite Me.

2009-08-02T18:48:00.000-07:00

I fully anticipate a smutty vampire dream tonight.

Last night was not a smutty dream but bewildering, and in this heat, annoying.

I know I was just getting back into the swing of the regular posting schedule, but I've come up ill, and am sleeping a lot. And the unending heatwave is not helping. The good news? I've another job interview on wednesday, for the local health authority! Cross fingers that I will soon be sharing gross out stories from somewhere.

And in all likelihood, I will be back tomorrow to share the smutty dream. Or at least as much as I can share without blushing.

Garden Bliss and other stuff

2009-07-29T11:04:00.001-07:00

I know I seem like I have a one track mind and all I do it talk about my garden. Well, there's another chat about my garden upcoming.

But first!

• Aced the job interview. They need to contact my references, and then will get back to me. But I had them in stitches and I could answer all the quizzy type questions, even though I've never worked in long term care. WOOOOOO. Now the nauseating wait begins.

• I am tentatively saying that Punkin is potty trained*. The * means we haven't started nighttime training yet, and she still has the occasional accident. However, we took her daytime diapers away from her 2 weeks ago, and I can count the number of accidents on 1 hand. We'd been putting her in diapers for shopping trips and outings where we were unsure of toilet locations, but she's even managing those trips now, due in some part, I think, to a fascination with public toilets.

Now onto my garden.

My peas are getting huge! Yay! The pumpkins and zucchini are way too close together, so Beaker has been clearing another area that we'd decided to put a garden into next year and is going to thin the squash types out sometime this week. The rhubarb is ridiculously huge, and the tomatoes finally have flowers! I know you're probably asking yourself, 'self, why did she plant tomatoes, she's allergic!' but I'm allergic to the acid in tomatoes and once they are cooked, I don't react as badly - so the plan is the harvest the tomatoes and make tomato sauce.

We picked up a book about 'Canadian edible gardens' yesterday and are learning about all kinds of vegetables we've never had before. Fortunately, our farmer's market has a lot of them available, so we're going to test drive some new veg this week.

Later this afternoon, we're heading out to a local worm ranch (ranch... heeeee) to pick up a half pound of red wigglers so I can finally have my worm composter. We're making a very basic one out of a rubbermaid tote, to see how it goes. It's amazing what all the worms will eat - dryer lint, office paper (goodbye old credit card bills in the safest way I can imagine!)... I really think it will help us cut down on the garbage. Beaker is starting to turn cardboard in to the big compost heap too, which has been relatively successful. If only our recycling situation were better.

Anyhow, that's my somewhat disjointed and excited post about my garden. More naughty vampire dream posts to follow soon.

Interview!

2009-07-27T21:44:00.001-07:00

I have a job interview tomorrow. Nothing witty to write tonight as I am saving my charm for the hiring gals.

A bad combo

2009-07-23T22:43:00.001-07:00

The summer heat, the continued unemployment and my menstrual cycle are conspiring against me. Despite the promise of a phone call to book an interview, none have been forthcoming. However, they are not on the same timeline as I am, so I'm going to be patient. If I haven't heard by tomorrow, I'll call on Monday.

We've got 2 possible opportunities coming for Beaker though. We saw a posting for his company on the government jobbank website today, for a position in Edmonton. I made him call right away. The site manager is a former site manager he's worked under, so that's promising, but he wasn't in his office. We won't know how long a job it is, or whether it's worth Beaker considering until he is able to talk to the guy, but at least the potential is there.

The other news we got today was that they are bidding on another pulpmill recovery boiler. It's the same kind of project that initially took us to Edmonton, but this job is in Kamloops. If it is awarded to the company Beaker works for, it will start in the spring, and run for a couple years. It would require relocation to the Kamloops area, as the pulpmill company runs a 10 on 4 off schedule which would be sucky to have Beaker commute for. But because it would be in Kamloops, he would be home every night if we relocated. So that's an option. Kamloops is one of the few place in BC I would consider moving, so that potential makes me very excited. We technically can't afford for Beaker to be unemployed until 'Spring' (because who knows when Spring is, exactly), but if I get a job here, he could potentially go back to school. So there's hope there.

And I know that the LTC facility is about 70% a sure thing, but for now it would be casual, and blah blah blah, they still haven't called me.

Which leads me to this. When I am hot, I don't sleep for crap. It's been ridiculously hot (for northern BC) for the last few days. The heat-induced sleep deprivation makes me tired (obviously) and touchy, moody and sensitive. Couple that with the Emotional PMS of Doom (not the really bad bloaty kind this month, touch wood) and some lingering guilt about issues out of my control (so I really shouldn't have felt guilty, but I still do) and I'm a bit of a wreck. I fear I am a bad mother, and look for reasons to assume so. I miss my friends, even though I see them as often as ever, and I assume their absence is due to some horrible thing I must have done, even though I can't think of anything I did.

When I get like this, my brain overworks itself to ensure that I am filled with huge amounts fo self-loathing. It's because I'm exhausted that I feel this way, and a good nights sleep, and the cessation of the Pre part of the Menstrual Syndrome always help. But right now I'm feeling lost and adrift and karmically icky. Things I did wrong when I was a kid are cropping back up to haunt me, and even though I think my teen years were quite enough karmic return for the sins of my teen years, I'm feeling a lot like Chunk in Goonies did when the Fratelli's caught him and threatened to put his hand in the blender - I'm actively looking for everything I've ever done wrong.

Hopefully whining in this post about it will purge me of the worst. One would hope anyhow.