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I’ve been nominated for an award by a young nurse who’s sharing her journey through nursing school and other aspects of what I’d call young adulthood. (I can say that. I’m twice her age J  )

She writes with an authentic voice and is not afraid to reach out to readers and ask for advice.

Oh, if I were to have had this much courage at her age. Check out her blog!

https://bethssmilinvibes.wordpress.com/

Here are my answers to the questions posed by Beth:

The first thing I do on Christmas Day is give thanks for my daughter.

I would like to visit Victoria Falls in Africa.

The biggest role model in my life, other than my parents of course, is Maya Angelou .

My favorite quote: “People may not remember what you said or did, but they will remember the way you made them feel.” Maya Angelou.

I love sunsets better than sunrises.

My New Year’s Resolution – Make less lists!

My go –to comfort food: French Fries. If stuck on an island in the ocean and only able to have one thing – French Fries!!

And I’m nominating:

https://freshscrubsblog.wordpress.com/

https://thewordstrucksoul.wordpress.com/

My questions for these bloggers:

What was the last book you read?

Four 12 hour days or five 8 hour days – what’s your preference for work?

Your favorite quote?

Your favorite cartoon as a child?

Pick five people you’d like to sit and have dinner with (living or dead).

If you were told to start a second Blog, what would be the theme?

More info about Liebster Award:  https://wordingwell.com/the-liebster-award-the-official-rules-my-first-blog-award-and-a-few-personal-secrets-revealed/

The Rules:

  • Thank the person who nominated you, and post a link to them on your blog.
  • Answer the questions about yourself, which will be provided to you by the person who nominated you.
  • Nominate blogs that you feel deserve the award.
  • Create a new list of questions for the nominees to answer.
  • List these rules in your post.
  • Inform the people/blogs that you nominated that they’ve been nominated for the Liebster Award and provide a link for them in your post so that they can learn about it.

 

 

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Emotions

Long day at work and still grocery shopping to do, I wandered through Publix getting more than I needed because, well, I was hungry. Cart full of the requisite fresh healthy vegetables, other perishables, and of emotions 2course my gluten free honey mustard pretzels, I rolled to the checkout lane.

TIME – SPECIAL EDITION – THE SCIENCE OF EMOTIONS

It caught my eye.

Nestled in the corner rack next to Star and US magazine (fodder for gossipers everywhere) the cover was a picture of father and toddler daughter, she in midair, father’s arms outstretched, ready to catch her. I grabbed it and threw it in with my groceries. So what if I was already over budget. I rationalized it as being good ‘Nurse’ reading. We are in a profession expected to have skills coping with all ranges of patients emotions. Plus, I’ve always been intrigued…how much emotion is physiologically derived.

There is reference to Emotional Intelligence, Hedonistic adaptation (adapting to whatever we think will make us happier and taking it for granted), and the brain’s amygdala (the area responsible for emotions, survival instincts, and memory.) Little of the writing was scientifically driven, but then, it was TIME, not The American Journal of Medicine. So I read on. Here’s a summary of my favorites:

The Upside of Bad Moods by Susan David: My favorite quote: “Negative moods summon a more attentive, accommodating thinking style that leads you to really examine facts in a fresh and creative way.” Yeah! So there, I don’t have to be a Pollyanna all the time.

Natural Mood Changers/ Subtitled How Six Mainstays of Modern Life Tweak Our Neurochemistry, By Kate Rockwood: Here are the six: Alcohol, Marijuana, Caffeine, Orgasm, Sugar, and Exercise.

Essay by Jancee Dunn, Instagram Envy, Tamed: She tells you right off the bat she understands that posts are curated and edited. It still doesn’t stop her from deleting a pended post she determines not to par amongst peers posting Bermuda vacations and completed half marathons. Her life seems to ‘pale in comparison.”

“We have taken our relationships online, and with a need to present our best selves, we edit. We look to social media to validate what we want to believe about ourselves.”

When she referred to social media as a fluff fest, I guffawed. She nailed it on the head. Her advice, “Either get away from it or get behind your posts 100%. There’s more to you than pictures of the smoothies you made this morning.

So, here I go.

 

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Matchmaking: This’ll make sense in the end.

So, after taking a certification exam for the second time and NOT passing, I quietly moped. My coworker respected my fragile state of self esteem by not bring it  up upon my return to work. It’s taken three weeks for me to shake the blah feeling off.

Earlier this week, passing the Director’s office ( a very warm person who always keeps her door open), I slowed and in a  deliberately exaggerated way, described the event and my feelings afterward. She stood and walked with me back toward my department. She did what all directors are trained to do, she  encouraged me to not give up, to try a different style of studying. At almost the same time, we both said “shadowing anesthesia”. Ketamine, Succinylcholine, Etomidate – yep, side effects of these meds are on the Nurse certification exam for CAPA.

It  made sense. Hang out with the OR people.

“Susan, I  think you should shadow Hank”

Hank, a sixty-five year old CRNA salt of the earth, nicest and I mean nicest guy, is a recent widow. Yeah, that’ll work, shadow a CRNA that has probably never grumbled at anyone.

Here is where things went wonky.

” You two should meet up for coffee or a casual dinner place and talk.”

What?

I redirected the conversation and  commented maybe on a slow day I could switch to education pay on the time clock as to minimize the cost of extra time at work. Her response was, ” No, I think you should meet outside of work.” That made no sense in regards to being in a learning environment.

We were now at the entrance to my department.  The last thing she said was ” It’d be a shame if you didn’t follow up on that idea.”

I did a great job hiding how uncomfortable I was with the undertone of her suggestion. Widow. Age difference. Coworker. Not playing where you work. Being pretty sure Hank did not appreciate R&B music…

She’s not the first at work  to have an interest in determining the course of my love life.

I just want to do my job.

 

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Tomorrow

calendarWhile you’re wishing for the day to be over, someone else is wishing for another day.

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‘Rebooting a plane’

worryI’ve never thought I was normal. I don’t believe there is a ‘normal’. But on my recent return trip from NYC (to see my wonderful daughter), I laughed at discovering another quirky thing to add to my arsenal of, uh, what I’ll call kind of crazy thinking.

Here’s the lead in:

I get on the 4:46 JetBlue flight out of La Guardia with only purse and book in hand after graciously turning in my carry-on to “help speed up departure.” Comfortable in my window seat, I become so engrossed with my Strands bookstore purchase, I lose track of time until I hear the overhead announcement.

“Folks, we are sorry for the long wait on the tarmac. On the control panel, one program button isn’t lighting up. We are returning to the gate.”

In my world, all the buttons don’t need to be lit. While I pretend to have wings and fly through the clouds on a plane so big they call it an AirBus, that’s a different story. I want those buttons lit, flashing, and sparkling like the KiraKira App my daughter showed me on her phone.

We roll back to the gate. We don’t get up and squeeze back down the aisle made to only fit runway models. We get this instead:

“Folks, we’re going to keep you on, turn the engines off, allow resetting, and restart.”

What?! That sounds like ‘rebooting’. They are rebooting the plane. My daughter’s last email to me, only an hour ago was ‘If there is anything weird going on or any passengers get weird, get out of there.’ Rebooting a plane. That might fit the bill.

Two passengers walked to the front and disappeared. I dug around the seat pocket in front of me until I found the barf bag. Just wanted it close by – no gurgling in my innards yet.

 I pondered Kristen’s advice until they announced overhead the two passengers were Miami bound and connecting flight were located for them.

The roaring rumbling of engines diminishes. Some people stand and stretch.

Over and over again in my head one mantra kept me relatively calm -God has a plan for me. God has a plan for me.

Then it happened, that crazy thing I can laugh about now…I estimated the large amount of trip charges on my VISA and freaked out.

 They would be hanging out there if my flight home was to be my last hours on planet earth. It had to be taken care of. I didn’t want my daughter having to forage around my house to find my password and deal with a giant VISA bill (When I see her, we go big. Mama’s worn out nursing feet demand Uber. The kid picks amazing $$$ restaurants for dining.)

I lurched sideways and scrunched up until I could get my hand down to my purse on the floor and retrieved my phone. Recalling old announcements for people to turn off computers until lift off, I tapped fast. I don’t want my cell phone interfering with the plane’s function! Capital One – Yep – okay – not too bad. On to my trusty bank. Account. Pay bill. Confirm amount. Send.

I feel much better already.

The engines start up and we roll back out to try again.

First flight I didn’t fall asleep on.

 

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I wasn’t trying to start anything…

I was just going to the doctor’s because I have a sore throat  that won’t go away. Nodules on my thyroid have turned me into a hypochondriac in regards to anything to do with my neck. So…

I sit down. It’s a small waiting room. There are three other people waiting also. Politics must  have been in the air because, seconds after sitting, the women to my right says, ” Well, he’s our President, so we need to respect him, even if he is not a very nice person.”

Oh, this is going to be fun.

They all looked over eighty. I might just listen. Old fashioned respect  keeps me from wanting to be contrary.

The man sitting in one of the chairs lining the far wall followed with a comment of his own. With an accent that sounded a little northern, he stated, ” He’s working on good things like getting rid of Planned Parenthood. You know they are selling body parts! Making lots of money. Using my tax dollars.  That’s the worst part. ”

Whaaaaat?!

I turned in my seat and had a total diarrhea of the mouth moment.

“Really?”

“Yep” He snapped. ” Saw film on it.”

“Hmm.” I couldn’t let it go.

“Sir, the Federal portion of funding for Planned Parenthood cannot be used for abortions. There is something called the Hyde Amendment that only makes exceptions in the case of rape, incest, or endangerment to the life of the mother.”

( Past incendiary comments by politicians forced me to do my homework. A few of them have stated that in no circumstance, should termination be an option.)

He pulled his chin up and retorted in a controlled voice, ” You need to see the film.”

Selling body parts. Selling body parts. Scenes from the movie Coma came to mind.

If I wasn’t in my nursing scrubs, I’m sure his response would have been more emotional.

The three women around my actively changed the subject. It somehow jumped to the women on my right  sharing that she is eighty-five and works at SAMS, says it  keeps her joints moving.  I told her I lived real close to COSTCO – would have to drive far to get to a SAMS. The female across from me murmured ” I like to crochet and watch anything except the news.” Smart lady.

I didn’t have just a sore throat anymore. I also had an itch under my skin.  A national agency selling body parts. 

My name was called. The first thing I did was tell my doctor there was someone in his waiting room spreading fear.

Then I went home and googled it. Here’s a link to something closer to the truth.

http://www.npr.org/2016/01/28/464594826/in-wake-of-videos-planned-parenthood-investigations-find-no-fetal-tissue-sales

 

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Irma

She’s here. And I figure I should get some thoughts down before the power goes out. You don’t have to be in the eye of the hurricane to lose power in my neighborhood, a bad thunderstorm will do the trick.

There is a constant grey outside and a light sprinkle of rain that comes and goes. The humidity has lessened, but not with cool air, just still air, an ironic contrast to the activity at grocery stores, gas stations, and places like Costco and Sam’s Wholesale over the last three days.

Forty- eight hours ago, I had  two cans of tuna fish, three pitchers full of water, three Gatorades, a box of cereal, and a bag of coal for my grill. Then, driving home from work, I reflected on whether I was being too cavalier – deeming a post  hurricane electrical outage as an opportunity to get some reading done, do some stretching exercises.

I stopped at the grocery store.

There was an impulse to wander down the chip aisle and go to town. I mean, hey, they are non-perishables. Common sense won. I got some flavored water, trail mix, and thinking I could warm water using the grill, got a box of macaroni and cheese.

Once you gas up, stock up, and board up your windows, there is nothing you can do.  I did promise my daughter ( in New York) that I would minimize my driving this weekend. We’ve had other high category hurricanes come through here and it’s always a weird feeling for me, having a concrete understanding  that, beyond preparation and prayer, all you can do is wait until it’s over.

I am one of those ‘ If you work hard enough, you can fix it, overcome it, or accomplish it’. (This is, for me, a character flaw.) So, like everyone else, except those that had to relocate, I’ll wait for it to pass. It’s hard to relax, even knowing I’m not in one of the more vulnerable areas

Some things make you feel really small.

Irma’s one of them.

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People Making a Difference

There are people that just want to  be different.

Then there are those that want to make a difference.

This video introduces you to some that I think have knocked it out of the park!

 

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The Mask

She came in for a port.

It’s a small round device, hard polyethelene rubber center, with a catheter centered at the bottom base. It’s placed under the skin close to a large vein, typically on the outer edge of the left or right chest.

The most common reason for getting a port is to begin chemotherapy.

She had wide set eyes, thick wavy  brunette hair that grazed her shoulders, and, what I thought unusual – pale blue eyes. Not your combination of traits. Blonds and redheads always get the blue eyes. Us brown haired girls, hazel, green, or brown eyes – freckles in them if your lucky.  The man next to her stood a foot taller than her. He wore his Polo un-tucked and on his feet the most broken in deck shoes I’d ever seen.

When I met the two, they had just  walked through the doors to our department. Together they stood hand in hand outside the curtained area while I confirmed her demographic sheet and spelling of her name.

Attentive to the explanation of my role and the limited space in the pre op rooms, the husband stepped over to the waiting area in our department for the short time it took me to get her ready.

She  hadn’t slept well and admitted to being anxious. Making sure all consents were signed, I got an order to give her some Versed to help relax her. I called her husband back over to sit with her then went and pulled the medicine from the Accudose system.

Within minutes after the medicine hit her vein, her eyelids began to flutter, her jaw slackened and she drifted in and out of sleep.

His face changed too.

The smile became a grim set expression and his forehead creased with worry. I don’t think he blinked while she slept. With his chair wedged close to her stretcher and his elbows on the rail, he watched her sleep. I watched him watch her sleep and wondered how he kept all his emotions from bursting from his body.

Their love was apparent. When he stroked her face, I turned the wall mounted computer so it wasn’t facing them and I could keep working. Their moment of intimacy needed to be respected.

The arrival of the surgeon and the OR team lifted some of the heaviness in the air.

And I’d swear that when she went off to surgery, he’d aged a year.

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A message in ‘Techie’ lingo.

When someone want’s to follow my post, I’m always flattered and curious.

It’s only fitting to check out their blog. So…

In this link you’ll see a verse parallel  to Psalm 23. I can’t explain it. You have to read this!

https://thedavidjose.wordpress.com/2017/06/15/the-lord-is-my-programmer/comment-page-1/#comment-476

 

1 Comment »

SeventhRay 2035

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