Don't Curse the Nurse!

Sharing support with stories & humor

Don’t Call Me That

mount everestBecause I check my LinkedIn page once in a while, I am exposed to articles about how to get ahead on the job, networking, advances in medicine, and sometimes the results of research or surveys.

Recently NPR reviewed a study done by the National Institute of Aging and I LOVE THE RESULTS!

I thought, Ha ! Here’s my ammunition for all the people that say I need to relax more, be more spontaneous. Have more fun. Maybe I am just leading a more purpose driven life (nod to Rick Warren).

This is where I am going to take a side road.

I’ve been called an overachiever, a word that is not even in the dictionary. I checked. It’s not there. The reference annoys me. Someone is making a calculation that I am trying to accomplish things out of my realm — thinks I’m trying too hard.

Maybe we overachievers aren’t people pushing ourselves beyond our natural capacities; maybe we’re just not content with wandering aimlessly through our days, giving breath to the meaning of gluttony and living vicariously through the televised antics of celebrity seeking attention whores. Maybe our superegos are so big that we can’t possibly imagine our only function is to procreate and get old without doing too much damage to ourselves and anyone else.

 I am going to get on my gigantic soapbox and say one last thing.

Your life is a gift. No one owes you anything. You decide if you want to leave a mark on this world and what kind of mark that will be. Push yourself a little. When it’s all done and over, people might not remember what you said, but they will remember how your life impacted them.

And P.S. Don’t let anyone call you an overachiever.


We call this a blackout…or…Old story worth repeating

“You’re what?” She jumped from topic to topic and it was hard for me to follow her.

She reached up with her hand and curled the pillow edge under her head. “I am an intuitive.”

“What’s that?” I was busy, but I was more curious than busy. So, I took my time taping her IV while she talked.

“I am able to diagnose what my friends and family’s health problems are.”

“Oh.” My superego was ready to kick in. This patient could potentially cause real harm to a friend that might think too highly of the advice from someone who bragged to me about her five months training at massage school. I felt a responsibility to chastise her. Just listen. That’s what they tell us in nursing school. Be supportive.

“Well, I hear the doctor’s voice down the hall. You’re next. It will only take twenty minutes tops.”

She gave me a smug smile then said, “It will be ten minutes. I know the problem is in my left colon.”

I know the statistics about colon cancer. My response was gentle. “You put yourself through an unpleasant prep. He’ll check your entire large intestine to be on the safe side.”

She shook her head at me and said tartly as the procedure room nurses approached her bed, “I am so sure of myself, I only took half the prep.”

She was the last patient in a very long day and about to be seen by a doctor who’d not taken a break in seven hours.

My intuition told me he was going to be pretty unhappy when he got into the sigmoid colon.


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