Showing posts with label suck it up. Show all posts
Showing posts with label suck it up. Show all posts

Wednesday, May 8, 2013

Streams of consciousness

It's been awhile since I've posted. Part of it is because I never really know what to say, part of it is because I'm not very good at writing about what's going on inside of my head and heart. And, I also forget that I have a blog. Oops.

A couple of weeks ago I baked cupcakes for the first time since moving here. It's the first real baking I've done in the Easy Bake Oven. I've made box brownies a couple of times, but that doesn't really count. I was nervous about the whole process. The kitchen is so small, and there's really only one countertop that is available for doing anything on. And it's about 2 feet long. Maaaayybe 2 1/2. Thanks to my lovely and generous friend Sara, I had a KitchenAid Mixer to use, so I pulled that out with excited hands and hauled it over to the counter (It lives in the box it came in, in the linen closet in the hall). I have a couple of more work intensive cupcakes, and I chose to make one of these for a party that I was going to. I think I wanted to impress them with my "mad" baking skills. Let me tell you, multi-step cupcakes are a tad more difficult in postage stamp kitchen. The oven also seems to run hotter than advertised as well, so I was worried that the cupcakes would get too dry. So, I experimented and didn't quite turn the oven on to the directed temperature and then I baked them for the minimum amount of time. They came out perfect. Phew!! Step one down. It was at this point where I debated changing courses midstream, and thought about just making a delicious frosting to put on the dark, rich chocolate cupcakes. A couple of things stopped me. Firstively, I had already told the girls that I was making these and I didn't want to go back on that. Secondively, I didn't have the ingredients to make anything other than what I'd originally planned. Apparently, I don't believe in baking back-ups. Thirdively, I was doing all of this the day of the party, and did not have the time to run to the store. Oh well, onward and upward. I powered ahead and started the cookie ball dough balls while the cupcakes cooled. Now, while the first pan of cupcakes was baking (I can only fit one pan in at a time, and that seems to be pushing it.) I tried to be good and clean up some of the mess that had been made during phase I. My mother will attest to the fact that this is unusual. I tend to leave cleanup until the end. Or the next day. It depends on how late I'm running. I was proud of myself, I'm not gonna lie. I congratulated myself on being grown-up, and more like my mother tried to train me to be. But then it all went to hell in a handbasket. I was running later than I anticipated, and so the dishes started piling up. By the time I was done, there were dirty dishes piled at least a foot high in the sink, balanced precariously on the stovetop and counter, and leftover frosting was left sitting in the mixing bowl. I would have taken a picture, but I just couldn't bring myself to add that image to the annals of posterity. What's even more shameful is that the kitchen pretty much stayed that way for the rest of the week. Judge away. I deserve it.


Toasted Marshmallow deliciousness




I've been in the NICU for about 2 weeks now. I'm really enjoying it. However, I'm also feeling like I'm not catching on fast enough, or I'm making too many dumb mistakes, I'm forgetting too many things, and I don't know enough. I'm worried they'll feel like they've made a huge mistake in hiring me. I desire and demand perfection from myself, though I never expect it from anyone else. I'm more than willing to extend grace to others, and yet I seem to lack the ability to show myself grace. I try and remind myself that I can't be expected to know everything, to remember everything, to do everything perfectly. But satan has always been able to get me to think about and dwell on my faults and failures and shortcomings. This is something that I need to be more conscious about turning over to the Lord and keeping up a constant prayer for grace.


I find that I'm still desperately missing home. My parents, my friends, the familiar, the known. Yesterday, I broke down and looked at the Portland hospitals that have NICUs. I was trying to find out how much experience they required. I found that the hospital I did my capstone rotation in only requires one year of experience. My heart leapt. I e-mailed my mom and asked her what she thought. I'm so thankful for her wisdom and her honesty. She reminded me that I made a commitment to stay here for the two years, and that we know the Lord brought me out here for a reason. I need to be faithful and allow him to show me why He's brought me here. It's hard though. When I desire to be with people I already know, who love me, who want me back home, and who aren't shy about telling me. It's nice to know that I'm missed and loved, but it makes it hard, too. But, I'm thankful for the love and support that they give, and the prayers that they pray for me.


I'm struggling with being single. I want to love and be loved, and to have a family with someone. I want the joy of having a baby. Of having a life with someone who's committed to serving the Lord with me, and who challenges me to grow, and who I can challenge to grow. I'm worried that this is a desire that I won't be able to give up, to let go of, to trust the Lord that He will provide what I need, whether it's a husband or not. I feel unsure of how to truly let go of this desire. I want with all my heart to trust the Lord in this area. But I don't know how to live with such complete trust, and what feels like complete abandon. How do I lose my desire to plan and have some kind of control? Perhaps that's what I'm here to learn. Away from everyone I know, I'll have no one but the Lord to rely on, to lean on. Maybe, here is where I'll come to a place in my life where I can let go of desires and control, and learn to trust God completely with every aspect of my life.

Tuesday, March 5, 2013

I think I'm gonna like it here

I've started working. I'm a working nurse. Crazy, crazy, crazy.

So far, we've only had two days of orientation, but I really love the hospital. Everyone at the hospital strives for excellence and works to achieve the mission of "So that all children may have a better chance to live". I love that.

The thing that sealed it for me was one of the videos they showed us. They were interviewing a bunch of doctors, and one of the cardiac surgeons was talking about his patients. He said that when they had a good day, he had a good day. When they had a bad day, and right there he choked up and had to take a minute before he could continue. Seeing a cardiac surgeon (who are notoriously huge jackasses) choke up and say that his patients having a bad day meant his day was as well made me realize how much people invest in their patients. It's not just a full day of surgeries and rounds. It's someone whose face and name they know. They know the intimate details of their lives, and they truly care about them.

It also was a good indicator that I wouldn't be the only one crying. :)

I'm still homesick, but I know for certain that this is what the Lord wants for me right now. It helps to take comfort in that.

Monday, June 20, 2011

Awkward and Uncomfortable

Awkward and uncomfortable hospital moment last week:

One of my patients was a 70 year old woman . . . who looked like she was 45. She had had a lot of work done, and it was very obvious that she didn't want to look old. Her hair was my color and up in pigtails (which drove me crazy) and she had so much mascara on I began to wonder if there was some kind of surgery for that as well. I would lose her heart and lung sounds every time I moved my stethoscope into her bosom area, since, apparently, silicone does not let sound through.

So, near the end of my first day with her she asked me to bring her her black bag that was in the cupboard. I did, and she started to rummage around in it. Much to my surprise, she pulled out two pairs of lacey underwear and told me that she would feel so much better once she "got her panties on". Firstively, I very, very hate that word. With a holy passion. Secondively, I don't really need to know that much about you.

Here's where I got even more uncomfortable. SHE ASKED ME TO PICK OUT WHICH ONES SHE SHOULD WEAR!!!!!!!!!!!

I hate myself for the words that came out of my mouth in response. "Well. These ones would compliment this little pink stripe in your gown nicely."

Seriously? Seriously!?!

I left the room after making sure she didn't hurt herself putting them on. (Yeah. That's right. I had to watch a 70 year old woman put on her unmentionables.) I grabbed some Purell and found myself wishing I could disinfect more than just my hands.

My advice to you is this: Please don't let vanity take over so much that this becomes you in 40 years.

Thursday, June 9, 2011

I had to put my finger up someone's butt

It was awkward. But she wanted it. So I did it.

She was 75, and fixated on the fact that she hadn't had a BM 2 days after surgery. That's completely normal, but try telling her that. No. Seriously. Try. Because she couldn't hear me. She kept telling me she wanted an enema. Well, the only other laxative prescribed, other than the docusate, senna, and milk of magnesia, was a suppository. So that's what we gave her. I lubed it up, and shoved it on in. Just so you know, you go up and over to the left.

She had a BM a little later, but wasn't happy with it.

I felt like smacking her.

Friday, January 14, 2011

Nursing School

Why is it that the beginning of school always brings a sense of dread and panic? For me, at least. I'm sure Jana always relished the beginning of a new term.

School starts on Monday, and while I'm excited to someday be a nurse, I really, really, really don't want to start school. It's nice not to have to do homework, and get up early. I need to go buy my books, my uniform patches, my pen lights, my bandage scissors, and my hemostat (whatever that is) and I really would rather not. I also need to get my school ID (great, another picture to look drugged in) and my parking permit. Bleh. Why can't I just wear my stethoscope around my neck and pretend that I know what I'm doing?

Speaking of stethoscopes. My sister's boyfriend wanted to buy us all Christmas gifts, and I couldn't think of anything so Laurel asked if he could buy that for me. Sure. Why not? Oh my goodness, he bought an expensive one. I feel a little guilty. But, it's pretty and green and I want to keep it. So, oh well. Katie says he's trying to buy our love and affection. And I'm okay with that.

In other news, would anyone like to go buy about $700 worth of books for me?