Mondays.

nothing quite curbs that itching feeling to blog something significant than seeing that I have no comments on my previous post. is it wrong/petty to want some sort of affirmation that there are people out there who actually read my blog?

(this sudden burst of emotional tattle is an aftermath of recently consuming a tall, iced, upside-down caramel macchiato with soy. but i can't always blame caffeine for everything, but it does contribute greatly to the the "unfiltering" that happens whenever its in my system).

anyway...

today, in clinicals (a.k.a. unpaid hours spent at the local children's hospital in Orange County to practice/learn nursing skills from actual nurses), there was a little boy who had to have his entire bladder removed because he had bladder cancer. so where does the urine go, you ask? good question. they [as in the surgeons] re-sectioned his bowel to create a pouch that is then attached to his ureters (the "pipes" that come out of the kidney and carries urine to the bladder). long story short: they "made" him a new bladder out of parts he already had! obviously, this is a very loose-ended explanation of the procedure, if you're interested in reading more about it, go here: Ileal Conduit Surgery. long story short: this little boy had tubes coming out of him to drain the urine for the time being while his insides healed. I know that this scenario is traumatic for an adult and would be even more so for an 8 year old--but the little snot also had the worst attitude ever. He was very demanding and ordered his parents around like they were his personal slaves. It was kind of disheartening to watch. I guess as parents, it's hard to correct their child's disrespective behavior after he's gone through so much. And one might tag me as a "hard-ass" for saying this, but, bladder or no bladder, my child will never be allowed to call me "stupid mom" when he doesn't get his way.

to end on a funny note: i started work today at Kumon Learning Center as a learning center assistant (imagine that...). you know, it was interesting to observe the effect I had on pre-pubescent boys. the main teacher, Ms. Muse, kept having to tell them to pay attention. then she asked me to stand in the back, and grade papers. i couldn't help but feel she was sort of, shoving me out of sight. sigh. if only i had the same sort of problem with post-pubescent men.

oh well.