What Can You Do

when the roles change

when there's nothing you can do

when it's out of your hands

completely

how do you cope

how do you sit with it

how do you do nothing

knowing what you know

wait for answers?

the unknown is a scary thing

Do the feelings of helplessness leave on their own or does it require force?

when your family member is the patient

when you become the patient family

when you're 2,000 miles away

everything you know means nothing

when the roles change

you might as well have never learned at all

so i'll try to be still, sit with it, and wait for more news. i'll let the anxiety come in like crashing waves and slowly draw back again. 

what can you do when the roles change

Nursing 101 (part 9)

You know you're a nurse when what attracts you to a man is their veins. 

And if they're nice enough to stick without a tournequet, he's definitely a keeper.

A Silly Thing Called Change

I was talking with a dear friend recently. About change.

How it's scary and nerve wrecking-- especially for people "like us" who thrive in an environment where we can make a plan, execute the plan, and everything is predictable. Big changes are especially scary. The ones where you make a big life decision like: who you're going to marry, taking a job on the opposite side of the country, or deciding where to go to college.

One of the quotes change reminds me of is by C.S. Lewis. It goes a little something like this:

"Imagine yourself as a living house. God comes into rebuild that house. At first, perhaps, you can understand what he is doing. He is getting the drains right and stopping the leaks in the roof and so on; you know these jobs needed doing and you are not suprised. But presently he starts knocking the house about in a way that hurts abominally and does not seem to make any sense. What on earth is he up to? The explanation is that he is building quite a different house than you thought of-- throwing out a new wing here, putting an extra floor there, running up towers, making courtyards. You thought you were building a decent little cottage, but he is building a palace. He intends to come and live in it himself." 

It's a bit silly how often I confide in God how I have my life planned out. Down to the little details. Sometimes I can picture him laughing at me, like my own father would, shaking his head with an all knowing grin. He does have bigger plans for me. Bigger plans than I can imagine. He knows me better than I know myself. I've learned this many times before, and this time won't be the last time I relearn it.

The truth is: nothing stays the same. Except God.

I've been learning to accept it. Change is always happening. It doesn't occur overnight. You don't celebrate your 6th birthday and wake up the next day with 5 grandkids and 2 granddogs. There are little changes happening daily. Hourly even. It's so subtle, you look back on the last five years and tell yourself you're such a different person. And it's true. And yesterday you met people who shaped you, shared experiences with you, and taught you-- whether profoundly or not. In retrospect-- life looks so short. You're not the same person today as you were yesterday. And you'll change more today. Tomorrow too. We were made to progress. Change is part of the process of becoming. It's part of the human experience. Look how beautiful life is with its color.

So bring on the change. Basque in its glory. And let God stay constant. 

A New Perspective

Nothing God asks of us benefits God. God asks things of us so that we may grow, that we may experience joy, and that we can hold within us the Spirit of God to allow us greater guidance, reassurance, and peace. 

When I Grow Up

Growing up, I always wanted to be like the older and "cooler" kids. I didn't realize that the coolest kid was my little sister. I've spent so much if my life trying to be different than her. Being so close in age we liked so many of the same things and looked so much alike. We still look so much like each other. Now all I really want to be when I grow up is someone just like her.

Nursing 101 (Part 8)

When you go to irrigate your patient's foley catheter and you leave the room wearing diluted urine water on your face and the rest of your person. 

Yes. This happened.

Wear your PPE fellow nurses! 😂

Lightbulb (?) Moment.

For a very long time, I've known I wanted to be a nurse. I remember my failed attempt to get into my program and my victory. I remember working so hard to make my dream come true. 

I also remember Ms. Wiley, one of my advisement coaches. She lent me a book that had pages upon pages of the different fields of nursing. I took it home eager to read through it and discover exactly what kind of nurse I wanted to be. Then my eyes swept across the title: 

Flight Nurse. 

I was sold: Emergency medicine, in a helicopter, adrenaline rush, real life saving. I'd be saving lives and working miracles. Wait is this my real life? 

I have met some really good role models like Janie and Susie who are also flight nurses. It's a long road to get where they are and it starts with experience in an ICU, emergency medicine, and many, many certifications. 

Flight nurses legit know their shiz.
They have to. 

My critical care clinical rotation in the ICUs at the UofU only solidified my deep passion to be a flight nurse. I had a phenomenal instructor: Liz. I was learning and thriving and soaking everything in that she could possibly teach me. I knew my goal was lofty. I was going to earn my wings, save lives, and make a difference. 

But I'm realizing more and more that with all this work in an actual ICU, I see more death than I see life saving. Sure there are miracles and many people go home with minor deficits. Some go home after extensive rehab and their lives are changed drastically. But there's a good portion of the population that I care for that aren't as lucky. They die. There's nothing more we can do. After throwing the kitchen sink at them, I'm merely the means that keeps a family member alive on machines and harsh medications until the family can say a proper goodbye. I just prolong their life, if I can. And when it's time to go, I bathe them, reassure them that I'm going to take good care of their family and their body, and give them warm blankets so that they can graduate this life with dignity.

I'm a nurse.

I don't save lives.
And you know what? It's hard to accept that. It's hard to believe that I worked so hard to be where I am with the goal in mind that I would save lives, and that this is what the reality of my job is. But I have a sacred privilege to be my Brother's Keeper when some of life's hardest moments are present and/or ever looming near. 

I told Liz, my mentor, about my lightbulb (?) moment. She replied with a quote from Spencer W. Kimball. It states: "Death is a natural part of life, as is birth, and heroic efforts to prolong life are neither necessary nor expected." 

And so I left that to simmer.