Special Sauce

A mish-mash of twisted thoughts from a fevered ego. Updated when the spirit moves me, contents vary and may have settled during shipping. Do not open towards eyes. Caution: Ingestion of Special Sauce may cause hair loss, halitosis, and a burning sensation while urinating.


Viva Las Vegas

So I'm back from Stephee's fabulous wedding in Vegas.

That? Was awesome.

We stayed at the El Cortez in doooooooooowntown Vegas, (not to be confused even remotely with the strip)- much closer to the Freemont Street area. A lovely little bus ride away from the strip, and much more my speed. The room was clean, though the entire area is under construction, so it's not exactly attractive outside, but you can get around. We had a nice view of the mountains, so I wasn't complaining (except when the 900 idiots in our hallway slammed their doors at 3 AM).

The first day we were there we went to the Paris buffet for breakfast- beautiful hotel, not the cheapest buffet, but tasty, and a nice value. We hoofed it around the strip for a while and visited the Imperial Palace auto museum. If you love cars, it's worth the admission (free if you find a funbook). Rolls Royces, Mustangs, cars I've never even heard of, lovingly restored, and almost every single one of them for sale (some reasonable, some at prices in the multiple millions of dollars.) Rita Hayworth's Cadillac Ghia was there, and Al Jolson's car, race cars, THE Mustang from "Gone in 60 Seconds" etc. Neat. Then I promptly got ill, and we went to the hotel for the rest of the night.

The next day was the rehearsal and rehearsal dinner, so we spent much of the day wrapped up in that. It was fabulous. Stephee and Ryan picked out a great hall, and we had a blast. In keeping with the Elvis theme, Mama Flang made Stephee's pa a great Elvis Cape and he walked Stephee down the aisle in a cape and glasses/sideburns.

The next day was the wedding itself- the most fun I've had in a while! Lots of music, lots of dancing, got to see friends I hadn't seen in ages. (C'mon, the bridal party came down the aisle to "Friends in Low Places" that should tell you everything you need to know, eh?) We had a blast, and Stephee was absolutely radiant, the guys looked handsome in their tuxes, and we danced the night away.

Monday P and I rented a motorcycle at the BMW dealership and rode out to Hoover Dam and around the Lake Mead area for the day- truly one of the most beautiful things I've ever seen. I just sort of sat there on the back of the bike and went "daaaaamn...." over and over again, as my brain tried to take it all in. All told, we rode about 250 miles that day. That night we met back up with Stephee and Ryan, then some other friends and had a few drinks before packing up for our flight home.

Getting home was a trip in and of itself, thanks to the tools at Expedia, who jacked our flights around and didn't notify us, and when our final flight was cancelled, we still were never notified by them. Makes me all warm and fuzzy. Nevertheless, we ended up home, safe and sound. All told, weddings? Awesome. The El Cortez? Not bad. The Deuce bus line? The best 2.00 you'll spend in Vegas, and Expedia can suck my dick.


My First Dead Guy

Last night I got to take care of my first dead guy. Well. When I got there he was't dead yet.

When I got there he was another gentleman in a bed on our side of the hall. He looked a lot like Jim Henson, in a completely unresponsive, missing a limb, lake of poop every time you turned around kind of way.

We went in and cleaned him up several times, and made him as comfortable as possible until the family decided to extubate him. We turned off the alarms, the cafeteria brought up the bereavement cart* and the waiting began. Eventually it happened. After Mr O** had passed away and the family had left, Joe and I went in to take care of him. It was strange, caring for this man that I didn't know in such an intimate way. Strange, taking out his IV sites, the way one of them still kept oozing blood after I took it out. It was strange talking to him as if he was still alive- something I swore I wasn't going to do, but found myself doing anyway.

We took him to the morgue, and signed him in- and in doing so, I found out that one of the patients I really enjoyed caring for had also died over the weekend. In a way, I'm glad it wasn't her who was my first. Not knowing Mr. O very well helped. Knowing, and growing fond of Ms. B would have made it a lot more difficult, I think. Then again, maybe not.

It was a lot easier than I thought it would have been, but I don't think I would want to do it every night.

*the Oncology unit calls them the Death Cookie carts, for what's on them, and when they arrive.

**Not his name.