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Massage therapy classes have been keeping me busy after work! We do often get out of class a little early though and it's nice sometimes to get home from a thirteen hour day, versus a fourteen hour day :) I am actually enjoying both the material and getting to know my fourteen classmates better. It is surprisng how much I do remember from previous anatomy and physiology classes- both the RN level college courses taken and passed 11 years ago, and the LPN level vocational courses completed 10 years ago.
One night a week we have Anatomy and Physiology, and Pahtology for the Massage Therapist. One nights is Ethics. One night is Body Mechanics. The fourth is Massage Technique.
Though this is an entirely new healthcare modality for me I feel my partial leg up (and each of my classmates has his/her own) is being already familiar with one form of professional client/caregiver relationship, and generally comfortable with confidentiality laws, medical terminology, and medical charting.
There are so many MT specializations! Going into it, I am most excited about a possible future in massage for the cancer patient, or sports massage for athletes and dancers, or chair massage at office's. Does Boyfriend know how serious I am about campaigning to become his office's personal Chair Massage Therapist?
Therapists can specialize and work in the NICU (neonatal intensive care unit)!
This is going to be fun :-)
P.S. Boyfriend is being incredibly, outstandingly acitvely supportive. He is amazing! He is amazing every day, but some times outshine the norm.
Tuesday, October 23, 2007
Tuesday, October 16, 2007
No. 2 pencils
This is my second week back in school, this time to become a Massage Therapist.
Oh no, not the dirty kind. Only one person is getting that kind, and he gets his for free;-) Well, unless you count the price of putting up with me.
It's the fifteen month, 750-hour, four nights a week course and I feel like I'm getting in on the beginning of something that is only going to grow. But more on that another day.
I am stalling on getting ready for work- isn't blogging in pajamas and eating stove-popped popcorn with coffee much more fun?
Oh no, not the dirty kind. Only one person is getting that kind, and he gets his for free;-) Well, unless you count the price of putting up with me.
It's the fifteen month, 750-hour, four nights a week course and I feel like I'm getting in on the beginning of something that is only going to grow. But more on that another day.
I am stalling on getting ready for work- isn't blogging in pajamas and eating stove-popped popcorn with coffee much more fun?
Friday, October 12, 2007
Teeny Testicles of Might
A short mouse story-
I once owned 23 (or was it 26) Fancy Mice.
I started with two, but was stupid that day (well, a lot but we'll just stick to this incidence for now) and forgot all about checking for balls, even though I had hamsters as a kid and as an adult. And rats. Pet rats.
So I bought the little black mouse who was hiding on the water bottle, and sibling.
Little black mouse was already pregnant when I got her, but not showing. Her sibling had a penis anyway and tried to help.
Black mouse was apparently a fertile Myrtle and had 13 babies, all of whom survived.
She was an excellent mother and she also became my best buddy. Who wouldn't need an outlet raising that kind of multiple birth?
At least twice a day during my many visits to the mouse-errarium she would climb up to hang on the mesh lid and crawl back and forth, or stand with her nose poking out until I took her out and let her crawl on me. Sometimes I tried to put her back too soon and she would race the other way back up my arm.
When the babies got to a certain age- the age when they started to practice nookie like a couple of awkward thirteen year olds in the basement. It was time to separate.
Did you know little boy mice can hide their balls? I mean really hide. Or maybe it's that some just descend later than others. After all, people have late bloomers.
I know about the differing distance between urethra and anus in male versus female, and differently shaped abdomens, but try to figure that out with bad eyes and a hellbent 1/3-inch worm shaped tube of squirm.
Picture a giant, furry Tylenol with big ears.
I learned to gently push on the lower abdomen and look for bulges and that helped loads, but inevitably down the road I'd see somemouse previously female humping or chasing somemouse else and darnit if those little boy nuggets didn't suck right back in as soon as I went after the pertpetrator. Not always soon enough.
Some litters didn't make it at all. Some mice were horrible mothers. One litter had been decimated down to two babies and I finally turned them over to the again newly delivered original Momma who adopted them and raised them with her own.
At final count I had 23 mice and possibly ten cages. All the females cohabitated, and each male had his own domicile.
My two favorites were Mommma, and Scruffy. Scruffy was missing patches of fur from the skin rash that broke out among the males while they were still young enough to share a cage- a skin rash I hand treated each day with peroxide and cortaid on q-tips. Scruffy's tail was bent at the distal end from the day he tried to climb back onto me and I accidentally dropped the lid. His ears were incomplete from sibling squabbles before the separation. Scruffy was gentle and also loved to come out and sit in my hand. He would often sleep (in his own, private cage) on top of his bullet shaped unclimbable water bottle with one hind foot wrapped around the wire hanger. Scruffy outlived almost every one.
I once owned 23 (or was it 26) Fancy Mice.
I started with two, but was stupid that day (well, a lot but we'll just stick to this incidence for now) and forgot all about checking for balls, even though I had hamsters as a kid and as an adult. And rats. Pet rats.
So I bought the little black mouse who was hiding on the water bottle, and sibling.
Little black mouse was already pregnant when I got her, but not showing. Her sibling had a penis anyway and tried to help.
Black mouse was apparently a fertile Myrtle and had 13 babies, all of whom survived.
She was an excellent mother and she also became my best buddy. Who wouldn't need an outlet raising that kind of multiple birth?
At least twice a day during my many visits to the mouse-errarium she would climb up to hang on the mesh lid and crawl back and forth, or stand with her nose poking out until I took her out and let her crawl on me. Sometimes I tried to put her back too soon and she would race the other way back up my arm.
When the babies got to a certain age- the age when they started to practice nookie like a couple of awkward thirteen year olds in the basement. It was time to separate.
Did you know little boy mice can hide their balls? I mean really hide. Or maybe it's that some just descend later than others. After all, people have late bloomers.
I know about the differing distance between urethra and anus in male versus female, and differently shaped abdomens, but try to figure that out with bad eyes and a hellbent 1/3-inch worm shaped tube of squirm.
Picture a giant, furry Tylenol with big ears.
I learned to gently push on the lower abdomen and look for bulges and that helped loads, but inevitably down the road I'd see somemouse previously female humping or chasing somemouse else and darnit if those little boy nuggets didn't suck right back in as soon as I went after the pertpetrator. Not always soon enough.
Some litters didn't make it at all. Some mice were horrible mothers. One litter had been decimated down to two babies and I finally turned them over to the again newly delivered original Momma who adopted them and raised them with her own.
At final count I had 23 mice and possibly ten cages. All the females cohabitated, and each male had his own domicile.
My two favorites were Mommma, and Scruffy. Scruffy was missing patches of fur from the skin rash that broke out among the males while they were still young enough to share a cage- a skin rash I hand treated each day with peroxide and cortaid on q-tips. Scruffy's tail was bent at the distal end from the day he tried to climb back onto me and I accidentally dropped the lid. His ears were incomplete from sibling squabbles before the separation. Scruffy was gentle and also loved to come out and sit in my hand. He would often sleep (in his own, private cage) on top of his bullet shaped unclimbable water bottle with one hind foot wrapped around the wire hanger. Scruffy outlived almost every one.
Sunday, October 07, 2007
Today
Last time we met we weren't much more than kids, and I wonder what you would think of the adult me, and I wonder what I'd think of the grown up you;
and maybe, just maybe, we'd be two half-grown kids with beautiful crow's feet and laugh lines and a couple of gray hairs and we'd stare and marvel for hours at how really no time elasped at all.
and maybe, just maybe, we'd be two half-grown kids with beautiful crow's feet and laugh lines and a couple of gray hairs and we'd stare and marvel for hours at how really no time elasped at all.
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