super sunday

 
It’s called periwinkle, the color of these letters.  I feel periwinkle now, after drinking white wine with my bff.  After mourning her Steelers’ loss to the cheese heads and laughing at glee and singing ‘she’s not there’ at the top of our old lungs in front of her husband and teenage son.  Great Zombies song, btw.

So home now with my small family, minus one sweet daughter.  Home in the kitchen with the heater kickin on and the freezer making more cubes.  Home with energy to spare after a sleepless night of on beck and call, and a full day of on the job firefighting.  You know I’m not a firefighter, right?  Nurses put out fires just as articulately as hose hounds, with one exception…our fires may smolder for weeks until snuffed out, maybe months…

Only saw one quarter of the super game, the last one.  Caught glimpses as I hurried past the tv in the common area at work, on my way to typing notes, taking blood pressures, and refilling my coffee mug.  A day in the life.  I love my coworkers.  I do.  Their compassion pours from their skin like the summer sweat of a sunbather wearing a baby oil coat.  I am blessed and honored to work alongside humans who believe what I do, see what I do, know what we are here to do, want to learn more of what we can do.  Maybe you’ve met these incredible souls along your journey.  I hope so.  My life at work is fuller than I expected; I’ve jumped the 6 month hurdle at my third nursing job and I feel settled.  One goal reached.  Several works in process.

A place that has to be believed to be seen~U2

What you got you can’t deny it, can’t sell it or buy it…U2

Love you .  Peace.  ~L

RN again

yep, I got the job I interviewed for last week and wrote about here.  Thankful for your support as well as that of my family, extended family, fb friends, and of course God...who, by the way, always leads me on the path I need to walk.  Duh! 

Why I freak out over an interview when I've been describing myself to social workers and psychiatrists and family members for decades, I'll never know.  Just me and my insecurity dueling at the front of the line.  Step right up, see the middle-aged nurse doubting herself again.  Place your bets on the time she takes to SNAP OUT OF IT!  

uh, hello, where am I?  I'm employed?  I survived the self-sell?  

I earned opportunity!  I will be working! as an RN!   Wait, what?

AND MY JOURNEY CONTINUES~~~

to the middle

toward community

hearts mending

hopes growing

view, frame, focus

begin again

again

PEACE,

~L

as she talks herself into being OK

I feel the lump in my throat, the nervous breathing...am I breathing?  I have an interview tomorrow morning.  In ten hours exactly.  I want to like this opportunity.  I want this opportunity to like me.  As a person.  Not as the bestest nurse in the industry.  Tired of competing with my idealistic-ness and the other uninterested so-called RN's in this community.  My experiences have been a varietal group of street smarts (dad always said I needed them) and unfortunate incidents.  All valuable.  All memorable, although I usually don't want any reminders.  

Jeff usually clears my direction and gives me the straight and narrow path to sleep on...when I'm doubtful.  On my own tonight cuz my logical husband lives on planes trains and automobiles today.  He's heading home, from Asia...China.  Been there for two weeks.  His quarterly trip of business and humidity and office bonding by team sport (soccer this time).  This trip I missed him lots.  This trip I had to give up our son to the compassionate surgeon we hired to repair him.  This trip I brought said son and older daughter to IL to saturate their grandparents and aunties and uncles and little cousin kids with almost-adult-aged Michigander love.  A first b-day and the day for fathers.  Good gatherings, calm couch chillin', and lots of football aka soccer.  USA!

So I'm feeling better, only a couple paragraphs down.  See what writing on this plastic board of keys does for my nerves?  Despite the plethera of comedic shows recovering son is surfing to the right of me...John Stewart making fun of my president and my favorite world cup sport...a cartoon with a talking dog and swearing baby and idiotic family guy.  Laughter is laughter is laughter. 

Tomorrow morning I dress to impress, drive 40 miles south, hand a stranger my neatly typed life, and breathe.  Answer questions, ask questions.  Cheerfully chat and delightfully discuss.  Hearty handshake, nothing else allowed.  Listen.  Observe.  Remember.  Breathe.  This is not the only fish in the sea.  I am marketable.  I am marketable.  Keep chanting.  Keep praying.  Keep believing in your breath.

So if the suit still fits, I must acquit.  Tonight's trial is adjourned.  You are allowed to sleep in peace and awake with no worries....now where's that suit hanging?

fly on the wall

I know I'm easily distracted.  This morning I presented like a case study of impulsivity and good intention.  Alone in the house with my mental to-do list, it occurs to me and I smile.  Flitting between tasks, making stations of unfinished thinking.  Starting coffee, preparing oatmeal, logging on, shooting the sky, playing fetch with ging, opening blinds and windows...fill the Cuisinart with beans and press start, empty the bottom rack, add raisins and nuts and brown sugar and wheat germ, frame the red leaves with the white cloud, fill the dog's water bowl.  A fly on my wall would be dizzy watching my moves. 

And my mind moves too:  Oh, I forgot to turn on music.  I should start a load of laundry and fold this pile. The sky is beautiful today.  Thank you God for sunshine.  Where is that list I wrote Saturday?  Should check those due dates and send that letter and call that office.   Grrr, I don't want to think about job hunting.  Something's missing...yep, my coffee mug.  There, that's better.  Where to begin?

 ADD, absent minded, flighty, laid back, unconcerned, living in the moment, day by day, one at a time.  I've been described.  I've self-described.  I see me.  No pill will teach my brain to rewire a lifetime of patterns.  No psychologist will succeed in redirecting my cognition.  Logical answers don't exist to explain my reasons.  Or my rhyme.  Fly by the seat of my pants and land softly where I belong.  Here.

Stuff gets done.  Tasks added.  People called, contacted, reminded, and greeted.  Paper pushed and piles pondered.  Lists linger.  Interesting intentions intertwine with exacerbated expectations.  Hardness points inward.  Should, could, would.  Do your best and be honest about the rest.  Deep breaths and gentle stretches refresh body and soul.  Move forward.  Just move.  Outcomes will step offline and results will be reviewed.  Necessary processing done patiently.  Done.  One way or the other, done.

HOPE

During my very last nursing clinical rotation, a few months before I received my diploma, I worked as a nurse manager on a medical/surgical (med/surg)  floor at a local hospital.  One of my patients was famous.  Well, locally.  His story had been in the papers and talked about around our community.  Tragedy had struck one of our own and it could have been one of us.

HIPPA laws intact, I greeted my patient and family with utmost respect and professionalism.  Then I realized that I knew MOM and she needed a hug.  And I gave her a big one.  Even though I only knew her first name and how she ordered her bagel at Good Grains (present employer), our instant connection was born because of who was silently lying in the hospital bed next to us...her son.

What I read in the paper was sad enough.  First ride on his new motorcycle, freak accident, brain injury, unknown prognosis, teenager.  I followed his progress through another teen I know who visited him a couple weeks post accident, when he was laying precariously balanced in ICU.  I read in the paper about his many friends and loved ones making t-shirts with his name on them to wear to our local Christian music festival, UNITY.  This was not the first time I've experienced Muskegon's compassionate rallying.  I was still amazed and honored.

A couple months later I met this young man.  Despite his contracted limbs, his tall body encompassed the skinny hospital bed.  His eyes open and distant, windows to an unknown connection.  His stuffed fish lay next to him and rolled washcloths tightly fit inside both fists.  A tracheotomy tube poked from his neck, gauze covered his cross-skull incision, and his abdomen housed a gastric feeding tube where I would later pour in his lunch.  Everything was different now.

Hand written notes were taped to the hospital walls with instructions for daily range of motion exercises and clues to communication.  Mom explained with professional precision and proceeded to demonstrate the removal of his leg braces.  I was slightly overwhelmed.  And extremely humbled.  This family had already experienced much more than any nursing student in two months time.  My ears and eyes were wide open.

Bells and whistles aside, caring for this patient was simple.  Care.  Easy for me, mom of two teens.  All I had to do was picture one of my children lying helplessly, imagine the empty answers to unending questions, feel the love emanating in that little room.  Every visitor I met had a smile and thank you for me.  Every chat with mom and dad ended up with a hug and a thank you from me.  This was an awesome three day opportunity.  My formal education may have been ending but my nursing education was beginning with a bang.  I wanted to spend all my time with this family.  To soak up every bit of knowledge.  To learn all of this boy's needs and how to fulfill each.

Stories about his sense of humor and love for life filled our time as I worked side by side with his parents.  They wanted to share and they wanted to teach.  Their strength lifted mine and their hope encouraged more.  They didn't care who knew their story as long as it was told.  And I have been listening ever since.

Now it's my turn to tell and your turn to hear the story of my friend Andrew.  His family made a Care Pages website about life with Andrew since accident day #1 in April 2008.  Myke is his mother's name and my former bagel customer.  She and her husband write as often as possible, including entries of doctor visits, insurance challenges, and life with Andrew's brother, sister, and girlfriend.

I get emailed alerts with each new post and occasionally I'll comment.  I have not seen Andrew in person and I don't think he would remember our first meeting.  However, the incredible miracles he has shown since then prove that his brain is healing.  He won't be the same Andrew who jumped on that motorcycle almost two years ago.  He'll be New Andrew.  Andrew begun again.  Speaking, multiplying, recognizing, remembering, joking, traveling, inspiring.

I pray that you will be inspired by Andrew Steven Bos.

Peace and love.

just so you know, Myke Bos granted me permission to publish this story...thanks friend!

You Capture: WORK

Yes, I skipped last week's FACES theme...if you want to see my dog's faces see  "All about the dog".  Back to this week's You Capture assignment...found by accident on our Saturday walk with Ginger, said dog.  Sunny day, low 20's F, brisk wind, destination neighborhood forest.  On our way, my husband wanted to stop at our son's high school to check out the current construction on the new gym.  This fall the football stadium infrastructure was renovated, everything except the track and field and bleachers.  Now the third gymnasium is under construction.  Don't ask, long financial electoral explanation.  Part of the student/staff parking lot is being used as storage for large steel structures and even larger and brighter colored machines.  When the grand re-opening will be I'm unsure.  Not such a big deal to me...until I found photographic fodder a couple days ago.  And lucky me, I can kill two birds with one stone:  pleasure my husband's curiosity and my amateur fixation of lines.

disclaimer:  my first photo shoot of a construction site...who knew?

Love that face!

She's smiling :) 

  

  

  

question: why did you become a nurse? answer: good question

(written september, 2009...pre-blog, pre-doubts...)

Because I can. Because I’m good at it. Caring. And my talent is underused. I’ve got it and I want to give it. Need to start bearing the fruits of my labor of love.

So now I get paid to care and people ask me to stay and talk and people want me to help them cope and I feel better about myself. Kinda’ selfish, I realize. God wouldn’t have blessed me with this gift if He didn’t have a plan for its use. The ultimate use, to sacrifice for others.

That’s what I’ve been doing my whole existence…giving and living for other people. Time for me to choose a path. And I choose nursing. Out of the blue, an Ah Ha! moment for me, a choice made alone. I claimed it as my prize and held it tight to my vest, despite the fan club’s insistence to question. I’m doing this my way, once and for all. Umph!

But I really wasn’t alone on this journey because my family gave me a gift: they allowed me exemption from all household chores, including making meals. All the study time I need, sleep time, cram time, whatever it takes…just get it done quickly was the underlying message. After all, living on two incomes was unattainable for years and now she’s off the couch to try again. Maybe this will stick and the train will leave the station. Maybe she’ll become an integral part of our team and its future. Expectations all around…do they match mine?

Why did I become a nurse? Well you already guessed at one reason! Except I wear baggy scrubs and no make up and my pockets are filled with pens and alcohol swabs and notes written on napkins and keys and garbage…not such a fantasy anymore.

Nursing is a spiritual craft. You have to invite every situation into your soul in order to understand where you belong. Some experiences are mundane and others out of this world. Some people you meet challenge your intent and you walk away feeling sorry for their loss. Other kind souls caress your gifts and put them on their pedestals to remember forever. Two extremes and two reasons.

I like challenge, I’m made of it. Nursing challenges me daily. My beliefs, my intelligence, my common sense, my needs, my fears, my reasons for living. I have seen birth and death and both leave me feeling honored. The adrenaline of an emergency steadies me. The confusion of an emergency awakens me. I nurture both into craft.

I am humbled. I learn. I explore and collect. I ask and ask and ask and expand my file. Until this moment I didn’t know these things about me...I have it. I got it. I am a nurse. I am a good nurse.

kids are still cruel

I am a nurse.  Been one officially for 16 months.  I don't know if I can do this anymore.

Nothing beside my family means more to me.  I may not be cut out to do this.

I know this might sound sad.  I know this feels sad.  I love learning.  I love helping.  I don't think I can be taught anymore of this stuff.  

I've given this up to God.  I let it be.  And it still hurts.  I don't know if this feeling will fade.

Helping others and feeling helpless.
Hoping to heal and assuming assistance.
Giving and tending to someone else's garden as if it were mine...I don't think that's all.

Praying and pleading for a heart to step up.  Where is the support group?  Where is the camaraderie of healers?  Where do I look for other nurses to tend with me?  To pull me out of this mud so I can grow too?  I think cutting off my nose to spite my face is easier.  

The world of sacrifice and  unconditional giving is foreign to the other kids.  Like they think I'm threatening their confidence by wanting to succeed.  Changing to fit in is not doing it for me.  I don't think I belong on this playground anymore.

This isn't the first time I've been kicked out of the club.  It's becoming an unwelcome occurrence and a pitiful sight for my family to bear.  I realize some strengths in writing and photography and hugging.  None of that creates sustainable income or equates to a reason for six years of community college.  I don't think I can survive another confession to my husband and kids.  Mommy fell again.  Mommy fell to square one again and needs a vacation from reality. Mom's leaving on a jet plane, don't know when I'll be back again.

Where do I hide from my naivety?  Where do I hide my ego?  Where do I find a way-back machine to travel to my mother's womb?  I don't know where the rest of my strength will come from.  I don't know if crying and writing and pow wows about pulling up boot straps is meant for me anymore.  I want it to go away.  I don't like dredging the bottom of my lake anymore.  Let the sandbars pile up, no ships of opportunity await in my harbor to pass through.

The beach and I have bonded.  I spend time with the open sky, the screaming seagulls, the welcoming waves, the ice bogs and the sand prints...all beach asks in return is respect.  Respect of environment and beauty and peacefulness and calm and solace and protection and security and wonder.  I'm calming now, thinking about my beach.  I visited the unexpected colors of our sunset last week.  Shot over one hundred photos with my new telephoto lens.  Felt grateful to be alive and standing next to Lake Michigan's enormity and grace.  Even our winter is tolerable standing on her shores.

Lots to think about in the next week.  Lots to decide.  I'd rather be volunteering in Haiti.  And someday I will.  Today I don't have the appropriate skills to step foot onto that hallowed ground...to add one more mouth to feed or one more spot of grass to sleep upon.  Someday my talents will serve their purpose.  Someday...

Until then I write, shoot photos, read good books, do taxes, reorganize my closets, email friends, walk the dog, go to the beach, listen to good music, bake, dance, travel.  Until then I live.  And get along with the other kids.

Peace be with us.

Day#7: Restart and reboot yourself.

Exciting news...I have a second follower!  Thanks friend.  Hope you enjoy.

Haven't worked in a week and lots has happened at home.  First, home feels like home again.  I like having my time to putz around the house in my sweats and un-brushed hair.  Been making lists, checking them thrice.  Been listening to lots of Wilco, our next concert adventure.  Been perusing facebook friends, stalking, if you wish.  Been looking at each new day positively.  Someone may be proud of me, besides me, myself and I.

G-dog and I have spent quality time visiting the vet, twice.  She didn't even pee on the dog scale or when the woman in the white coat stepped into the room.  Good girl.  Today she sat drooling in the backseat while I ordered my soy carmel latte, which earned her two dog treats from the window barista.  Lucky dog!    She's healthy, btw...almost ten= almost 70 in human years.  My elder.

Daughter's home from school for 3 more days, then her world turns sorority. She is our first born and she turns 20 next week.  Good Lord, that's two decades of living...20 years ago I gave birth after 16 laborious hours of bitching at my husband.  At least he says I was quite bearish, I don't remember the details, only the encompassing pain. She successfully birthed and we quietly began our little family.  I was not the girl who dreamed of marriage and babies and picket fences, of any color.  Surprise! Instant mother.  How'd I do?

It's 3:20 in the am, everyone sleeps during the best writing hours.  No interruptions.

Back to the home feeling...checking stuff off my daily lists feels like added value.  I've been missing the value, missing the purpose, the reason.  Even though people show me and tell me and explain to me how life works, I doubt them.  I think of their words and remember the examples.  I appreciate all advice.  In the end I do it my way and let the chips fall.  I've been busy for years, picking up my chips.  Every day I bend a bit less and say wtf and move on.  Egads!  I'm following advice!

Take my new friend Bono for instance...he's singing to me right now about taking only what you can't leave behind and walking on.  Poetic, yes.  Easy to listen to, yes.  Can't wait to see you in concert, yes.  I can only take so much, Bono.  I need to expel you from my consciousness and pull out my instincts, the big guns, and move forward.  OK, maybe I'm leaving someone else behind, but necessary for my soul's survival...now.  Rock on for life.

What else happened at home this week?  Christmas is all gone.  Sent a couple gifts to new friends, awaiting their reaction.  Posted new photos on fb, taken with my new camera, chosen with help from other fb photographers.  Thank you again, I'm enjoying my Cannon Rebel xsi.  Contemplating whether to buy the telephoto lens for the $100 deal by the 16th.  I already spent more than Jeff and I agreed on.   So maybe I've convinced myself that the deal for the lens is too good to pass up.  Uh, do you think Bono would mind if I'm materialistic and self serving just this once, I mean again?

Graciously accepted my new position at work.  No more management-in-training.  Just working 8 hour charge nurse shifts, on a regular schedule.  Now plans can be made and life anticipated.  So I have to begin again, begin getting my groove back. No big whoop.  I can adjust.  My new style wears well so far.  Soon the emperor's new clothes will be paraded in front of the residents.  Hope they can see my beautiful colors!

4:01 am on the clock face...to be continued.

peace

all in a day's work (sept 29, 2009)

a resident at work...the dying man I described last night. He lived in the room next to my office and I talked with him and his daughter everyday. His name was Melvin, Mel. He called me boss and made everyone laugh with his grouchy sarcasm. His wife died in the same room last month, 24 hours after they were both admitted here. Now they are doing the jitterbug together again...without pain or age or worry.

I pronounced his death. Checked for the absence of life signs. Last night I stayed late because I could see the signs. And he told us that he was going to die...he knew. All day today, until 4:33 pm, Mel rested comfortably with eyes closed, surrounded by his small biological family and his large adopted family of staff. He was well loved. And I am blessed to have known him.

I helped the aide with his post mortem care and I held the doors open when the funeral home wheeled his body outside. Firsts. I received hugs from Mel's daughter and son-in-law and I began to mourn. Another day in a nurse's life.

So I drove to Lake Michigan and sat in the cold sand in the bitter wind among the quiet seagulls and cried, and watched God at work again. And put myself in my place.

humbled again. more thankful. hopeful.

in limbo

I really shouldn't be writing right now.  I only have 4 hours to sleep this morning.  Going to the J-O-B.  Not interested.  I'd rather type a bit.

You don't write to me anymore.  I'm probably annoying you with my negativity.  I don't blame you.  I try to keep my distance from downers too.  I miss your letters just the same.  I miss your friendship.  Positively.

The week between Christmas and New Year's day is blurry for me.  My family is home, wandering in and out of the house and my days.  My work schedule is sporadic and frustrating.  I see the tree staring at me and I think how long can I keep you in my living room?  The joy of preparation and anticipation is muddled with to-do lists and deadlines.  Counting down instead of up.

No, I haven't been drinking tonight.  Water, no lemon.

Still trying to figure out my camera and how to transfer pics onto my pc.  Then everyone gets a look at my off centered view of life.  Writing and speaking and shooting what I live.  Please don't be afraid.  My view is skewed but modifiable.  With tender loving care I can see everything clearer.  Think NOW.  Think BE ME.  Think ACCEPTANCE.  Think BREATHE.

What if I don't think at all?  Could be the answer.  Could release me from worry.  Maybe release my expectations so I don't want anything but what I have now.  thanks Bono! (sarcasm inserted here)

With this in mind...I'll be joining my husband in my warm bed now.  I'm allowed to sleep a few hours before servicing the elderly.  My reward for acceptance.  My acceptance of my rewards.

Existentialism anyone?

Sunday night blues

Sitting by herself, watching two screens.  One shows the football game, the other displays her life.  Her throat feels dry and she fills her glass, the one sporting the losing football team logo.  Water first, then white wine, to take off the edge of the Sunday night.  She keeps tissues nearby because of the lingering effects of the upper respiratory infection.  They also come in handy when the tears flow.

The screens are attempting to distract her from her thoughts.

She's wondering why she says and does stupid things.  Like telling her coworker she didn't give a shit.  Maybe it was her fever talking.  And why she left work without an explanation to her boss, although her hacking cough made explanation unnecessary.  When she steps into tomorrow morning, she will face the consequences of her feverish actions and get back to work as usual. 

She thinks she insulted a friend.  Kinda' hard to tell over the internet when her friend only uses a few words at a time.  The screens encourage  more questions.  They remind her of the football team he watches and the city he lives in and his inbox she used to fill.   She can't stand hurting people and this time she may have done damage.  She doesn't know for sure until he tells her so. 

She doesn't really know him.  She wants to know him and she tries to know him.  Her opportunities are limited.  Circumstances are not ideal for getting-to-know-you-better conversations.  She feels out of her element since she is usually the one who asks all the questions and then sits back to listen and learn.  Physical distance prevents her routine.  His  schedule prevents phone conversations. They are left with emails and infrequent chats.  She fears this won't be enough to clearly present herself.

A fine line is drawn between them.  Old friends holding energetic youth and unfinished business.  New friends claiming families and adult responsibilities.  Two friends who see each other for the first time.  She is conscious of keeping the fine line in place and of keeping her place in line.  Unconsciously she reaches toward his strength.   She craves more than the balance allows.