Gems

You ever misplace a gem? Not lost it, just misplaced it?  A ring or a pair of earrings that when you put on, you felt a little extra special. For you guys, that watch or favorite shirt that made you feel sharp — on your toes.

There are some gems where I work, but not having worked surgical services for the last four weeks, I forgot just how cool they were.

Until yesterday.

I put in my obligatory weekend call hours, came in for two surgeries, and prepared the next day’s paperwork before starting to head out for the evening.

Walking toward the back exit with the PACU RN, we slowed and checked in with the OR nurse before leaving.

“We’re leaving. You need anything?”

She popped her head around the desk where she was entering data for next day needed surgical trays.

“No, I’m good. Almost done.”

“Hey, either one of you interested in grabbing a beer and some Cuban food? The place is close by.”

The PACU RN and I both declined, but then I remembered that any conversation I’d had with this OR RN was introspective, informative, and there was always equitable sharing of how life in general was going. There was never constant interruption or a scenario where I felt like I was being talked at instead of to.

***

I had a wonderful ‘post call’ Cuban dinner, the coldest yummy draft, and the best conversation with a valued peer who, due to the differences in our work hours, I rarely saw.

And the icing on the cake is this:

I learned that this Operating room RN is gifted with the ability to emote words of prayer that have a gentle and at the same time direct ring to them — transparent chords that point to grace and trust.  I gave her my prayer request to add to the list of people already in her heart. And of course, a big smile in lieu of the ‘not allowed’ hugs.

What a nice and unexpected way to end my day on call!

 

I Should have called her the gardener…

Hey y’all,

I’ve been struggling with making progress on a few writing projects then something came up and the words came easy.

About a month ago, I’d previously posted about a nursing instructor that made an impact on me. More recently, on Instagram, a site called Vocal invited people to write about a woman that influenced them for Women’s History month.

I thought about that instructor and wrote a more detailed / refined essay. I shared a little more than I did in my prior post. Below is the address:

https://vocal.media/education/the-picky-nursing-instructor

*I think you might need to put this up in your address bar to avoid the nuisance of creating an account on Vocal Media to get in.

If your able to take a few minutes to read it, I’d be so grateful!

Please never mind the tip thing at the bottom!

 

 

My Best Explanation

The first time I took the test, it was because I thought  I could do anything. The second time was to please my hospital leadership team. The third time was because I was mad.

________________________

We finish high school, college, some of us – graduate studies, some go even beyond that; taking tests along the way, the obligatory standard to measure our accumulated knowledge.

Despite being pleased about  passing the National CAPA exam, I’ve continued to fumble when people ask me about the experience. Academic achievement has never been the kind of  thing I’m overly impressed with. I’m more interested in someone’s character, how they treat others, their integrity and social consciousness.

My Dad asked me about a week back, ” What was the purpose of passing the test? I mean, does it change how you take care of your patients?”

I got what he was saying. My parents are already so proud of me, one plaque actually sits at their house, not mine. They don’t like to see me stress about anything. I think his point of view was a technical one, never the less, it  triggered a revelation:

I wanted to set the bar higher for myself.

Yes, there was the anger component going into the third attempt. Why am I pushing myself ? Geez, I’m over fifty!

I’m not  angry anymore. I think the growing pains ( which I haven’t had in a long time) just hurt some.

_____________

So, anyhow…yep, that’s why I kept at it.

Setting the bar higher once in a while is not a bad thing.

 

Compassionate Doctors on Twitter led me here:

A New Treasure

Following morning fellowship, I turn off the mute button on my phone and check for messages or new emails. I see an email message that I have a new follower.

Nice! Someone appreciated my thoughts enough to click that ‘follow button’, knowing my posts will be added to their list of incoming emails.

When I got home, I opened the link up to their site.

Wow!

Inspiring quotes, pictures of sky – deep with color, and sincere reflections by someone younger than my daughter.

This is a comment in her Bio: ‘I have a great fear of shallow living.’

She pulls (and gives credit) from philosopher Epictetus and Anne Frank all the way to author Shel Silverstein.

Treat yourself today. Visit her blog: https://muskanlambablog.wordpress.com/

Shameless

Just when I was reaching a low point in my self discipline regarding exercise, hope came at 0900 this last Wednesday. “Hope” ( can’t   tell you his real name) walked down the hall, quadriceps flexing, causing a rivet of wrinkling in his Bermuda shorts, his arms jutting out from his side. A chest that must have measured almost two yards made it impossible for his arms to drop lower toward his hips.

Breezing through his history to confirm the main reason for his visit, I saw the word ‘bodybuilder’.

No kidding.

I stayed oh so professional until a coworker that recognized him from her gym, stopped and said “Hello”. Then the Anesthesiologist came. He made reference to how long ‘Hope’ would have to wait before returning to his workout regime.

I was mesmerized by his muscles. No funny stuff here people. Half a century ago I was an athlete. It was all respect. All respect. But I dropped the bar a little just before starting his IV. I asked him to flex his arm for me.

He did.

And I’ve been to the gym every day since. 🙂

It is not the critic…

Inspiration

In the medical world, the word inspiration means the act of taking a breath in. This comes from the Latin noun root in inspiratio, and the verb root in inspirare. So, I guess when I tell someone I need inspiration, I am asking them to please help me breathe.

Say something that matters

And if you’re shy with your words, quote someone that does.

https://doctorly.wordpress.com/