Solar Rehab

Happy Jazz

Have I mentioned previously how insane 2008 has been? I think I have. Instead of lamenting again (and sounding like one of Hemingway's parrots - if he had any), I henceforth resolve to be more optimistic than usual.

The holidays were... quiet. Fine by me, really. I wasn't into Christmas this year. The spirit just never grabbed me, I suppose. I am only hoping (optimistically!) that 2009 holds more promise, more hedonistic fancy, more productive (and enjoyable!) work, more spontaneous moments, more drama-less days, and a lot lighter heart.

I make the switch to pediatrics on January 5. I no longer have to wear anesthetic ceil blue or stark white. I can wear scrubs with butterflies and all that happy jazz on them. It'll still be three 12 hour shifts a week, but I'm used to that routine. The position actually came with a $2 an hour pay increase. Yay money.

I had a birthday on December 27... I have arrived at an age of contentment. I'd be fine with never getting any older, but I wouldn't want to be any younger either. I've decided that it is also rude of people I don't know to ask how old I am. Yeah, I've arrived at that, too. Especially when it is totally obvious that the asker is at least a decade younger than I am... Time is a bitch, indeed.

No worries. Last night at M'Coul's, a fetching 22 year-old fella bought me a drink... and never inquired about my age.

Yep. Still got it.

Exhale...

It is officially over... Elusive May has finally arrived.  Yesterday was my last day as a student (for now, at least). 

I don't think I've realized it yet.  I don't feel any "different."  It hasn't yet dawned on me that I have nothing to do.  No exams.  No projects.  No care plans.  Nothing.  It'll probably hit me on Monday morning when the alarm clock goes off two hours later than it normally does. 

Grad day is next weekend.  I am hoping for decent weather so that we can celebrate outside instead of indoors in a stuffy, smelly gymnasium.  I ended up with an admirable GPA, by the way.  All grades are in.  I should have no problem whatsoever getting into any nurse practitioner program that I set my heart on.  Yes, I'm tooting my own horn a bit.  If I don't, no one else will.  Rawr.

While the horns are blowing, I know that it's finally time to exhale. To let the stress go.  To put away the books and such for awhile.  To thank the powers that be that someone with my combination of disorder, misfortune, and circumstance could pull off a BSN.  With honors.  :-)

Finally,

Anna, RN, BSN (well, almost...)

Elusive Answers

Although things should be looking up, it doesn't feel as if that's the case.  Grad is 3 weeks away... Final exams are done (except for the ATIs, which will be over next Tuesday), and all my projects are finished.  I have one last clinical tomorrow (my last day of free nursing labor!).  A month from today, I'll be boarding a ship that'll take me and my partners in crime to a week-long tropical escape. The weather is more than tolerable; I have missed the sun and warmth more than I can say...

Why do I not feel that sense of release and joy that I've been anticipating?  There's nothing apparently wrong, but something just isn't right.

Perhaps it's me.

Perhaps not.

My son got a "bus ticket" last week.  I suppose that could be part of my problem.  It's his fifth this school year.  He's gotten these tickets for everything from talking too loudly to opening the window when he wasn't supposed to.  Because it's his fifth, he is not allowed to ride the bus FOR THE REMAINDER OF THE SCHOOL YEAR. 

We live 18 miles from his middle school.  I make two trips a day; one to drop off, one to pick up.  I am driving approximately 72 miles a DAY just to get my kid to and from school.  That doesn't include my own transportation needs.  Gas is now $3.45 a gallon here. 

The school isn't punishing my son -- they're punishing ME.  I've spoken with them about the issue.  They don't give a shit (not that I expected them to)...  Granted, my kid isn't an angel.  I'm aware of that.  He's got a big mouth and a 14 year-old attitude to go with it.  Still, what's wrong with some Saturday detention or something?  Why am I the one paying for this bus ticket? 

That answer is as elusive as my initial dilemma...

I'm not sure why I haven't found my solace yet.  I feel alone and unappreciated.  It feels like I'm still stuck in the dreary depths of Winter... despite the mid-April sunshine and rising temperatures.  My life doesn't feel like it's mine, if that makes sense.  I am feeling the weight of my own world, and it is heavy enough to dampen my spirit.

Let's hope this doesn't last long...

 

Seasons

Spring has officially sprung.  Winter's ghost is refusing to retreat, however; snow flurries were flying this morning when the kids left for school.  I suppose the changing of seasons is difficult for Winter (the old hag), despite the fact that her fight is inevitably futile.  But it's not today.  The battle rages on.  We all know who will win in the coming weeks, however.  Spring's victory won't be denied for long... and neither will mine...

I'll be leaving later today for a four-day visit with the family in Virginia; I may even swing down to North Carolina and drop in on my brother for a night.  That familiar restless feeling is creeping through my veins again, and like Spring, it will not be denied.  Gas prices be damned.

The changing of seasons reminds me that we are not so different from nature.  We have seasons, as well.  Our seasons change when we gain wisdom, no matter how few the pearls.  Some people dread and fear change; it is somewhat discomforting to abandon an old road for a freshly beaten path.  It is definitely easier to swim in a familiar (even stagnant) pond than to venture into a vast sea of mystery.  I try to keep in mind, however, that stagnant water attracts little more than malaria... Change is good.  It is the fragrant spice of a bold and meaningful existence. 

Although I know this, that familiar dread and fear still tug at my thoughts.  In six weeks I'll have finally completed another degree; that's another season that will pass into history.  I'm sure that change will come with it, although I am uncertain what it will be exactly.  Uncertainly is what breeds fear, you realize.  I am in the process of creating a rough draft of what I picture as the next season of our lives.  My mental images are still somewhat hazy. 

My solace lies in knowing that uncertainty will slowly but surely pass, just as all seasons do.

   

Like a Lion

Hello, March, you beastie, you.  I have to say, I'm quite glad to see you.  I've thought about it, and I don't believe I saw a day of sunshine in the entire month of February.  There are people here in western Pennsylvania who are so pale that the sclera of their eyes match their skin tone.  Vitamin D is nowhere to be found.  If there is indeed a link between a lack of sunlight and multiple sclerosis as recent research suggests, then it's running rampant around here.

But here you are, the third muse, in like a lion and out like a lamb, or so they say.  When I woke up at 7:30 this morning, there wasn't a fleck of snow on the ground.  You managed to put down several inches of the stuff within a half hour.  Good job.  You're living up to your lioness reputation.  I have a few requests, if you're able...

Don't roar for too long.  Ignore the shit out of Punxsatawney Phil, for the love of all that's decent and holy.   Do your thing, and then get on with it.  Oh yeah, if it's not too much trouble, could you spare a little sunshine?  I'd really appreciate it.  January and February nearly put the entire northern east coast under the table with a serious case of seasonal affective disorder.  The psych hospitals are full. 

I don't intend to sound ungrateful; as I said, I'm quite glad to see you.  You took your sweet time, though, didn't you?  A procrastinator, are you?  Eh, I'm guilty of it myself at times.  Just get on with it, okay?  Pretty please?  I'm looking forward to the lamb, my dear lion...   

   

The wooden "fishing bear" on the front porch... March laid down the law in just a few minutes... 30 minutes before these photos, there was no snow anywhere...   

Sunday Afternoon in Winter Hell

I know I've said it before... but I'm going to say it again -- I hate winter.  I loathe it with every ounce of my cellular existence.  I happen to live in an area where January and February are ruthless bitches of winter's folly.  Today happens to be a perfect example of why I bemoan the season.

The electricity just, not five seconds ago, managed to zap out.  Again.  This is the third time since this morning.  The lines aren't dealing well with the 60 mile per hour wind gusts that have battered them for the last 8 hours.  I am desperately attempting to finish a lengthy powerpoint presentation that's due Tuesday.  No electricity, no project.  Thank goodness for the small generator that I have attached to my computer.  I've dealt with the hurricane-force wind problem many times before, hence the technological insight.

I think the wind is what I despise the most.  It's destructive, noisy, and lowers the chill in the air to negative numbers.  It'll cut you in two, I swear to God.  It'll drag tears from your eyes and leave your ears completely numb.  Forget the hat or earmuffs -- the wind will yank those off you, too... right after it punches you in the face, blinds you with your own hair, and takes your breath away.

It's as clear as it's ever been -- I am destined to get the hell outta here. 

The relentless wind just stole the electricity again.

Bitches.  I am in winter hell.

The Grind

Time has been a luxury for the past two weeks... The grind began on January 7th;  I have jumped feet first into the final semester of my second "formal" education.  The very first week we were hit with clinicals, orientations, and the various miscellany that we've all come to accept as the status quo of a professional nurse/student.  It's colder than a well digger's ass tonight (2 degrees fahrenheit!), I still have a journal entry to write for my leadership rotation tomorrow, and I am feeling 102% apathetic. 

The one solace that comforts me is the knowledge that in less than four months I'll be finished with the educational madness (for a year, at least).  I can finally go back to work with my big ol' plump-ass degree in hand and start at the bottom rung like everyone else does.  I'm looking forward to it (I think...)

I've gained a few pearls of wisdom in the last week, as well.  One, I've discovered that sexism is alive and well in rural Pennsylvania.  No surprise, really.  I made a home health visit to an older man last Friday (community nursing rotation)... He spoke to me cordially for the first few minutes while I took his vitals and asked the routine questions (the ones about bodily functions and the like that anyone who isn't a nurse would never ask...) 

He then proceeded to say, "you're a pretty woman.  Why are you working?  You should have a man paying your bills.  You should be home."

Little did the poor ol' codger know that I had a husband, thank you very much, and I am currently a widow and bringing up two children on my own.  And I'm kicking arse at it, thanks for asking. Yessir, let me rush right out and find a man to take care of lil' ol me.

Bullshit.

I know the old man meant nothing by it; he's just being true to his generational philosophy, whether I like it or not.  Pretty women do not work, according to him (and many others of his day).  A good-looking female should be able to attract a worker bee to do her bidding and bring her the honey.  Or the bacon.  Whatever.  I would have never gone into the details of how that sort of Cleaver scenario doesn't work in this day and age; he simply wouldn't have understood.  I simply said, "that's an idea" and hoped he'd drop it.  He did, thankfully. 

At least he was respectful enough not to grab my posterior parts or cop a sneaky feelsky as I went about my professional duties.  Oh yeah, that's happened before.  Not often, but it happens.  Sexism ain't dying anytime soon.

I took my daughter to the Reba concert last night; that was certainly the highlight of the week.  A due break from scrubs, lab values, aching feet, and small town boredom. 

It's back to the grind tomorrow on the oncology unit.  I feel the most needed there; I can't explain that.  Yet.  I just hope this week is less harsh than the last.

Cheers, 2008...

Auld Lang Syne

2007 has not been easy, but it has been more than memorable.  I have finished another year of nursing school, four clinical rotations, and several dozen textbooks.  I've managed to maintain magna cum laude status regardless of the chaos that is my normal life.  Being a widowed mother of two is no easy task, I assure you.  July of 2008 will see the 5th anniversary of Mark's death; I have changed so entirely since then.  For the best, I think (I hope).  Still, the path that leads to strength is not a journey to be taken barefoot.  I am mother and father, breadwinner, cook, counselor, maid, chauffeur, and referee.  I often forget what silence sounds like.  My car has not been what I would call clean for several years.  And I don't care.  I'm too tired to care most of the time.  And when I'm not, I have better things to do than sweat the small stuff...

I have learned to take most things in stride, really.  I have no false perceptions about my flaws and limitations at this point.  I am a procrastinator and a daydreamer.  Although I recently turned 34, I feel no different than I did when I was 17.  Maturity really doesn't change your personality.  Neither does loss, gain, grief or joy.  They may change your attitude, but not you.  Then again, I have learned that attitude is almost everything, so... Perhaps I'm just the odd one out.  Despite everything, however, I still feel like a kid.  For the most part, I see that as a blessing.

I am not a kid, though.  I am beginning to see the slightest traces of laugh lines around my eyes these days; those are a sure sign that time is going to win... eventually.  That's fine, too.  There's not much I would change about my life, honestly.  Sure, it's difficult at times.  I've learned to handle it.  Still, I'd like to have a normal life one day in the not too distant future.   I'd like to have a husband and good kids and eventually, grandkids.  Won't it be a hoot?  I'll be somebody's grandmother and still feel like a 17 year-old.  I'll be the coolest grandma ever; wait and see...

Until then, I have 2008 to conquer.  I think the coming year will bring change, good and bad.  I think it will bring adventure.  I think it will see me passing boards and getting a killer job as an onc nurse.  Thanks to the seemingly horrific lessons of fate and life itself (and a helluva tough marine), I am ready.  At last.

Cheers... and Happy New Year.

Provoking Destiny

At long last, the seemingly endless parade of another semester has come to an anesthetic end.  I'm finding it difficult to feel the sweet sense of release that I've anticipated; perhaps that eluding pathos will find me at the end of next semester.  It will, after all, be the last.  I have nearly a month off for Christmas break.  The first snow of the season graced my neck of the woods a few nights ago; it was gone within a few unseasonably warm days. 

I am attempting to get into the "spirit" of the season against my ostensible lack of holiday semblance.   I just don't feel it this year, and I'm not sure why not.  Perhaps it's the grave predicament my father is in.  Perhaps it's the dire solitude that I have a love/hate relationship with.  Perhaps it's the weather.  More than likely, it's a medley of all of the above. 

I need an escape.  I need a change of scenery and sound.  My senses seem to crave something novel and unexplored.  Fresh blood, so to speak.  Cryptic thoughts course through my veins at times like these.  It is such thoughts that provoke destiny, I believe.  I desire the long lost taste of the arcane.  The undiscovered continent.  I long to know for certain that distance is a mere technicality...