Connection

Ah…the end of 7th week. I forgot how sweet life can get as you approach the end of a semester. It’s Saturday morning, and I have a big research project to work on. So naturally, I decided now would be a good time to catch up on the blog.

Baby, We Were Born to Run

The first bit of info to share…I’m running again! And more than just on the treadmill for exercise. I’m actually running outside! I found a running partner who is at a similar pace to me. She lives in my neighborhood, she’s in my nursing program and we always have great conversations. (Similar running paces + good conversations = GREAT running partner.) We’re running together on Saturday mornings and we’re trying to also get one run in together during the week. So far, so good. It feels great to running outside again, and to have running goals. And while it goes not feel great to wake up early on a Saturday, it is wonderful to be done exercising, showering, and ready to go with the rest of your “weekend to-do’s” by 9 AM. We are thinking about running a half marathon down the road. The Baltimore marathon (and half) is in October. Maybe at that time we’ll be ready. Much depends on if we keep up the running through our break, through the worst month of the year (heat/humidity-wise), and through the beginning of what may be a busier semester.

Friends, of the B-more Variety

Last week things came together for me regarding school, home, clinicals. This week things seem to have come together socially. I realized that I don’t click as well with some of the girls I hung out with at the beginning of the semester (the ones from school that I was going out with on weekends; the 21 year-olds who love sugary shots). They’re nice girls, and I have fun with them, but I realized we have different interests. And in the process I’ve become closer with some other girls that have more in common with me. It’s kind of strange shifting who you hang out with, especially in a school environment. Patterns like where you sit in class, who you eat lunch with, who you sit next to on the shuttle develop quickly. When there is a lot of change, these little routines become a key contributor to comfort, and following them gives a sense of belonging. All this can make disentangling a little difficult, and a little awkward.

So my “best friend in the program” is a girl I’ll call the model. She’s 22, from the east coast, and very smart. And, as the nickname suggests, she could be a model. I didn’t like her at first. She was quiet and aloof, and I erroneously interpreted that as standoff-ish and conceited. Because of classes and those patterns I mentioned above, we ended up getting to know each other better. I’ve come to discover that we actually have a lot in common when it comes to how we approach school, how we study and what we stress about. Last week she said I was her “best friend in the program.” It made me happy because I felt similarly. It’s nice to have a friend who gets it when you stress about an exam (because they are stressing too). But it also made me feel childish. Seven weeks in and there are already cliques, best friend alliances, and gossip. No matter how old we all are, a bunch of girls together in school will always have a touch of junior high to it.

Friends, of the So Cal Variety

Speaking of friends, HBo bought her ticket to come visit over Thanksgiving! I am SO very excited to share my whole life here with someone from home.

Moving away is the best test of friendship. Everyone says they’ll visit but in my experience, very few actually do. I’m not criticizing here. I get it--it’s hard to visit. It takes time and money and energy. So when someone does take the time, spend the money, use the energy, it means a lot to me. Nothing says “I value this friendship” like a visit does.

My Neighbor, R

On Wednesday morning I walked out of my building and saw a man crouched down in the middle of the street. A woman was near him, trying to help, and a car was in the intersection blocking traffic. We were told in one of our classes that as nurses, we have a legal obligation to help. We were also told that this applies to nursing students. There may be a legal component to helping, but there’s also an ethical one. I didn’t even have to think about it—I walked over to the man to see if there was anything I could do. His name is R, he is 80 years old and lives in my building. He had a numb leg and was trying to cross the street. A car was approaching quickly, so he tried to speed up. In the process he fell and badly hit his head and hand. When I got there he was bleeding badly and couldn’t get up. The woman who was helping him said that he wasn’t able to move. R insisted that he could--he just needed to take his time and regain his balance. It was strange…at that moment it’s like I slipped into another version of me. I asked some questions and told him I thought I could help. I also explained I was a nursing student. I grabbed him the way we learned in school (it’s called a geri-hold and it can give a lot of support). I told him to take his time. Slowly but surely, he did manage to stand up. I managed to avoid getting blood on my clothes.

I got him back to the apartment building where he could sit and wait for the ambulance someone had called. He was a little shaken and the blood was still dripping, but he was very grateful for the help. He said a couple of times that I was really strong (I’m not—it’s the geri hold!). I could tell from his expression that he was really scared. I could also tell that he completely trusted me and was looking to me for guidance. Once he was safe and sitting, I had to leave. I felt bad, but I had an exam to get to. I didn’t notice I had blood on my hands until a few minutes later.

The whole experience was very emotionally charged. There was definitely some adrenaline being pumped through my system, and while I felt a little shaken up from it, I mostly felt energized. It felt really good to help someone. Connecting with a stranger so quickly and so intensely over something this simple was strange. My memories of those minutes have become starkly clear and marked. Flashbulb memories, I believe.

I have thought about R a lot since Wednesday. In some ways he was my first real patient.