End of the Trust Fund Days

Tomorrow is my first day working as a nurse. It's my first time working full time in awhile. The last time I worked in a real, full-time job, as part of my previous career, was the beginning of summer 2006. Though I didn't work last year, the program was "accelerated" and the hours made it feel like two full time jobs. But the past two months have been the opposite. Because the masters program isn't accelerated, for the past two months, my only regular obligations were class on Wednesday evening and Thursday evening. That's it. That meant every weekend was a five day weekend. Which meant I had so much free time that I got very little done. I read books, I became very nocturnal, and I "met" and fell in love with Edward Cullen. I occasionally worked out and I've been doing some dating. Which has actually been really fun.

The other day I went shopping with my friend AP. I was complaining about how I had to get up at 9 AM and his response was an exasperated, "It's cause you're living the life of a trust fund baby!" Sort of true, just minus the trust fund part. And that is the one thing that will be good about starting to work tomorrow. Money. For the first time, in a long while, I will be making money and not just borrowing it.

And so begins my career as a nurse. Keep your fingers crossed I don't kill anyone.

My Baby Girl

This week I spent two days working with a very sick baby girl. In fact, I called her “Baby Girl” the entire time I was with her so that will be her nickname here too. I can’t go in to too many details (because of the law), but I will say that she is pretty sick, but it is likely that she will be okay. Despite her medical conditions, she is alert, responsive, and adorable. She’s been in the hospital since she was born. Her parents are young, not married, big smokers and not very involved in her life. They didn’t see her the entire two days I was there. She craves contact from people and seems hungry for attention. I got her to smile for me and after awhile she seemed to recognize me (I was probably the only constant thing in her life for 48 hours). And because of all the above, I completely fell in love with her. The problem with this situation is that I’m too connected. I keep thinking about her (and crying) and wanting to go see her. But I can’t. She’s not my baby girl. All I can do is hope a good life for her.

She might be the first patient I’ve had that is really going to stick with me. I wonder if I’ll remember her forever.

Mitch Albom’s book, The Five People You Meet in Heaven, is about the people you meet when you die, to help you process what your life was about. They aren’t necessarily the people you remember as important to you, or even people you remember at all. They are just 5 random people that influenced the shape of “you” in some way. I didn’t love the book or necessarily buy in to the concept, but it was an interesting idea that I’ve never forgotten.

If that is how life and death work, maybe, in some small way, I would be one of those people for this Baby Girl.

California-itis

Each year, for the past few years, I have gotten bronchitis or a bronchitis-like respiratory illness in the fall. This past fall, not only did I not get one, but I didn't even get a cold. Which was amazing considering: a) my stress levels and irregular sleep patterns b) the amount of time I spend in hospitals around sick people, and c) that I now live in a much colder environment requiring bundling when you're outside and heat when you're in. When I was home for Christmas, I realized all this, and smugly gave myself a virtual pat on the back for being healthy.

By the time I got on my red-eye back to B'more, I had the first signs of a cough. And I blamed Southern California.

My cough ran its course and by early to mid-January it was gone for the most part.

But then...I got a bad cold. I thought maybe it was just an encore presentation of my Cali-induced winter cough. A little perk for going out dancing before I was actually ready for such activities. Whatever it was, it went away last week.

But then...I started coughing again. Last night, in fact.

I'd like to continue thinking that my theory still stands. That I don't get sick in MD and that this is merely a continuation of my So Cal Disease. But the half nurse in me knows that is probably not true. Maybe karma is giving me a little kick for wrongfully assuming that the life I lead here is healthy.

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.

The Big Lightbulb

After a few bad weeks, things are really starting to fall into place. Life is starting to feel like life again. My days and my routine and my home and my friends HERE all feel "normal." This life, here in B-more, is starting to feel like my real life instead of some strange little temporary tangent. And that feels good.

Even school is getting better--beyond getting good grades. All the course work is starting to come together in a way that makes sense on a macro level. Last week was full of several little "a ha!" moments, and now the big light bulb in my head is officially on. It is shedding light on everything.

Don't get me wrong...this still isn't "home". There are things about California that I miss in visceral ways. Sometimes when I merge from one freeway to the next and I have an option to go "west" I really think about where that road could lead and what I would do if I just took it. All the way. It sounds silly (and a little like a Western, what with driving off into the sunset and all). I never come close to actually doing it, but I think about it. I think about picking up and driving home.

The funny thing is I don't know that I will move back to California. If things go as planned I am here for at least 4-5 years. And when I am done I don't know what I'm going to do. I kind of like it that way.

On top of the everything becoming more clear and more normal, last week was my best clinical. It was good and informative, but it was also kind of funny. So I'm going to share some of what happened with you. (Warning: Some of you might find this kind of gross.)

My patient was on a gastro feeding tube. The RN was showing me and another student how to reconnect the feeding tube and to make sure all previous liquid food had been digested (yum). She was demonstrating how when you open the cap, you should make sure to point the opening away from you and/or wear a mask. There are often pressure differentials and sometimes things will splash out of the stomach, through the tube and into the room. She was standing on one side of the bed. The other student and myself were across and on the other side. The RN pointed the tube away from her (as she suggested) so that when the tube opened, guess who got partially digested stomach fluid splashed on them? Yep, that's right. Me and my fellow student.

It wasn't a lot, and the timing of it all made it funny.

I have a really strong stomach and not much disgusts me, but I have to say...this kind of did.