October, overwhelming.

Healthy or paralyzing fear?

Depends on the day. This program is a huge step up in everything that we're doing, and I really love what I'm learning. The stark realization of responsibility hits me every 15 minutes or so and I find myself nearly panicking - then I remind myself that there are two years left and I'm just beginning this program, and somehow I head back into studying.

Yeah, it's exciting. Sometimes I look around while at UCSF and I can't believe I'm there. It's everything I've ever worked for, and I'm doing it.

So many changes in life- it's amazing what a mere 8 weeks will teach someone. Burning Man was pivotal for me in so many aspects; I loved being a med supervisor and really connected with a group of EMS personnel who are just as goofy and fun-loving as I am. They were people who listen to each others' stories, understand one another. I felt more at home than I have in a while. And the gifts that the Playa provided! I can't even begin to articulate my experiences from this year, because they were so profound. Returning home from Black Rock City, I felt as though my lessons continued, and I felt ready to embrace life in a way I haven't for a very long time. I felt alive again. I still feel that. And I knew some changes had to occur. Which brings me to: Will is most likely moving to LA, where his world, life, work exists. He travels all the time for work, which is great- he's awesome at what he does. But leaves me alone. A lot. I think he's been home at the most 10 days in a row this year. Yes, what does that mean? I'll deal with that later. I can't even begin with that one.

All I can say is that in this past year, I've been lonelier than ever. But that's about to change.

Suffice to say I'm glad I'm in school, where I can get lost in learning.

Here we go.

Been a while.

It's been a while. There have been so many life changes, I can't even begin to start writing about them. Apologies to those who have left comments- when I write, I really like to spend time focusing on writing, and given a new job for both of us, a billion life changes, and a wedding to plan, I'm stretched thin.

Ok, the short version:

Will is now the CTO (chief technical officer) of a 3-D television company.

I just got my dream job, that I've wanted since I decided I was going to nursing school:
I am now working at UC Davis medical center in the Emergency Dept. We're a Level 1 Trauma center, which means: teaching hospital, sicker patients, and total insanity. Add the fact that the ED is moving to a 50,000 square foot brand new building in about 1.5 months, and there is total utter chaos.

Keep in mind I'm following HIPAA when I discuss patient stuff:

In the past month on orientation at Davis I've done CPR on about 10 people.
None of them lived.

I'm in process of filling out a ton of competencies. Our orientation binder is about the same thickness as an entire quarter's class. There are 10 new nurses orienting together, and I think they just added 5 more. There will be another 10 coming in soon.

As far as CPR and codes/determining death go:
The really cool thing is that not only do we use two different leads, we actually use ultrasound on the heart to see if there's any activity at all. If there is, we take a next step (still learning what that is, depending on the person and the attending physician's preference).
For those of you who may not know, in order for a physician to pronounce death, the patient has to have asystole in two different leads/EKG perspectives on the heart, which ensures that the patient really is dead. It's a failsafe. Using ultrasound is even more accurate. It's really cool how far they'll go to work to save someone.

I've driven a gurney at Mach 3 to the OR with blood dripping behind it a-la-Hansel-and-Gretel-trail, with a surgeon's hand in someone's chest holding their dissected aorta together while three nurses were hanging blood as fast as they could to keep that person alive. At least you can really say we tried. No, that person didn't make it.
The twisted thing is that all I could think about was BBQ afterward. I attribute it to the rib spreaders. What? I mean, I know, it's twisted. I warned you. This blog isn't always pretty, and we EMS folks are a little... different. Thank goodness.

I've seen someone pronounced dead after being coded for an hour. Asystole on two leads on two different monitors, ultrasound of the heart showed no activity. Full on "Time of Death: blah blah blah."
Somehow, a few minutes later, this person was in NSR (normal sinus rhythm: ie, their heart was beating. Normally. This kind of thing ONLY happens in soap operas, folks).
Nobody has seen anything like that in their entire career.

I've seen all sorts of other stuff. Crepitus (Sub-cutaneous air) from a pneumothorax, some really sick people in general, lots of intubations... it's a mad, mad place.

I've seen imminent delivery. That's actually kind of happy and fun, but messy.

The nurses I work with, for the most part, are some of the most intelligent, welcoming folks I've met. We are expected to have a vast array of knowledge, and to be able to anticipate a lot of interventions. Many of them have advanced degrees. Half of them have over 15 years of experience. I am a baby in comparison.

Nobody could ever be on facebook here. There's no way in hell you could do anything but try to keep your patients alive. Especially when 4 people come in with CPR in progress, the Resuscitation Room nurses need help, and your patient's blood pressure is dropping and you need help, too. It's insane.
And I love it.

I start nights again this week, which I'm not looking forward to, but at least I know what to expect.

On my off days, I'm back in my Sacramento routine: outrigger canoe paddling, cycling long distances on the American River Bike Trail, and I have yet to visit my old Bikram Yoga studio.
Our new place is infinitely better than any of our old apartments. It's a 2.5/1.5 with tons of storage, a backyard, a garage, a basement, and a rose garden in front. Our landlady is super cool and likes to share a glass of wine with me on the back porch.
Life is pretty good.

Hello, Backbone, "How you doin?"

Thank you ER, for giving me something that I sometimes lack: a spine.
It's been helpful in more ways than just nursing.

I've gained clarity that I've really needed.

Things that I've lost sight of.

In the ER: I am now able to stand up for myself. I know when to ignore, I am better able to figure out when to question, I'm more of an advocate for my patients.

In personal life: I have always been able to stand up for myself. I am angered when people underestimate me. Being told that I'm malleable and "easily influenced" even if someone feels that way tells me that they severely underestimate me and they seriously overestimate themselves. I am much stronger than most people know. Part of that is from reading the "Ancient Art of War," which allowed me to keep my guard up, no matter what the situation. I am quiet when confronted in interpersonal interaction, which is often mistaken for weakness.
And I am certainly strong, in ways people don't even imagine.

Will is one of the people who has never underestimated me, which is why I love him so much.
In any case, I am happy to have found my spine again. And I am deeply happy that Will is back and here with me.
This time is a special one. I am living day by day, happily reveling in rejoining and rejoicing.

Intensity, and a Labor of Love

The ER is getting better.
The above image is sunrise at Lee's Ferry on the Grand Canyon.
Being a full-time Canyon guide is on my "Bucket List," and although I've rowed it and guided it, I'm not a full-time guide with even 20 trips under my belt.
But my heart is still there.

There are certain things in your life that grab hold of your presence so intensely that you know immediately if your heart belongs there or not.
Nursing, and the experiences I have every day in my job, validates this more than anything.

It's so much a labor of love. I read my friends' blogs and I realize more and more how much our time in nursing school was dedicated to really loving people. I see it every day in my ER when I take the extra second to be kind to somebody and they thank me.
We were raised well.

Love is giving freely. "Love is patient, love is kind. It does not envy, it is not proud..." one quote from the Bible that I can hang with (1st Corinthians 13 something, forgive the absent mind of the Catholic schoolgirl).

The river has my heart and soul.
I am deciding whether I can give it elsewhere. My patients get my heart every day. I am someone who loves deeply. I have to recognize this and love it in myself.
I have a capacity to love many people. I also have to recognize and embrace this fact.

Just like I embrace the sunrise over the river.
Just like I embrace my dreams and goals.
Everything we do leads us to something better and more amazing for ourselves. I truly believe this fact.
And now, I just need to live it.

Climbing Behind a Waterfall (an allegorical anectdote)

This photo was taken in September of 2004, while I was on a Grand Canyon trip. This exact spot is called "Elves' Chasm," and it truly looks like a place where you might expect little people to pop out of the crevices around you. The waterfall is stunning, and you can crawl up behind it and jump into the shimmering, clear pool below you. There are seven pools you can explore, each one more dazzling and more difficult to access- in fact, I know of someone who fell to their death while trying to climb to the top pool (that's another story). There is no safety net. There is only your impetus to explore, and your awareness of your actions.

That's how I feel right now.
Acutely. Aware.
Of all of these things.

Those who know me know that I have an incredible fear of heights, to the point that even bouldering in a climbing gym terrifies me. I've made it to the base of the cables on Half Dome and couldn't bring myself to go further.

So the fact that I took this picture is actually very sacred and telling to me. Even though I was afraid to climb behind that falls, I did so, and I was rewarded with this amazing, dynamic view.
And guess what?
In the end, it wasn't that bad.
And guess what else?
I jumped.

I jumped into that clear blue pool below and laughed and cried and was given hugs and then I climbed up to the next pool, and the next pool, and the next one. I haven't been to the uppermost one because it was just too treacherous at the time and we didn't have the equipment to get there. But I pushed my boundaries, explored, and was rewarded with an awareness of a place that I will never forget, and one that I long for.

There are pieces of me that I have missed deeply, and I am reconnecting with them now. I feel like I've been neglecting aspects of myself that are central to who I am.
And I'm ready to climb a little bit.

Nursing is like that every day, and yes, I'm talking about nursing and stepping out on a limb and being afraid of what I do and the consequences that my actions have for others, but I'm also not talking about nursing.

I'm talking about life.
I'm talking about love.
I'm talking about living.

My meditation lately has been:
Meditating on the idea that courage comes from love (coeur, corazón), and fear comes from the unknown. I embrace unknowns; I choose courage.

This saying has been one of mine since the end of high school. It has every bit of the same importance right now in my life.

We must be gentle and kind to one another, and help each other explore. We must help each other reach those pools, those places that are difficult to access, but open us up to a world of beauty. It requires trust, faith, and patience.
Regardless of if it's nursing, or if it's vulnerability, or if it's acknowledging each other and ourselves for who we truly are, and loving that especially.

That's all.
Oh yeah, and here's Elves' looking up at the waterfall (different perspective is always good)

Bunnies have more fun.

No, really. That's me, at Symbiosis festival, doing medical work.
It was a pleasant relief from being in the ER everyday and having my ego shattered.
A lot has happened since I last blogged.
For one, I'm engaged. Awesomeness and love.
For two, I'm taking steps towards being less afraid of other things in my life. I can't elaborate here, but wow when you are open, life hands you some cool surprises. Some of those are worth waiting a long time for, and I am incredibly struck to the core by what can happen when we manifest our intentions.
For three, I feel like I suck as an ER nurse, it's okay. I've decided my work environment is destroying my soul, but I'm learning a lot, so I gotta suck it up and go with it.
Hopefully all will be well.

That's the news for now.
Aside from pushing Epi IV, which I'm sure I'll repeat.

Stay cool California. Or wherever you are.

85 degrees and 70% humidity.

Here's what the ranch looks like now. I was just caught on my bicycle in a lightning storm about two days ago in the same place I took this photo.

What did I do? I (fortunately) was on the stretch that had cell reception, and just 30 seconds before called for help from Will. I had looked up at the sky before I left- "oh, clouds, not bad - in fact, beautiful" but 30 minutes later on my ride, they were suddenly dark and had that this-looks-bad kinda edge to them. Black and thick, I decided, hmm, I might make it, but I'll call for a pickup just in case... That was the one smart decision I made.

When I saw the first bolt hit the field about a mile or so away from me, I have to tell you, it was pretty shocking (no pun intended).
There is nothing in the world like realizing you are the highest point in the field, sitting on a piece of aluminum.

I laid my bike down on the road and ran 100 feet away for the drainage ditch, where I squatted for the longest 10 minutes of my life. No, there was no water in it.
At least when it started hailing, the lightning stopped.
Will showed up with a truck like a knight on a white horse. I think I became a member of every religion for about 20 minutes that day.

So, humbled and more educated on Montana thunderstorms, not 10 minutes later it was sunny and 85 degrees again.

The saying here on the ranch is, "If you don't like our weather, wait 15 minutes."
Yeah, I guess so.

Ok, other fun pics from the trip so far.
Here's Idaho:




And here are my friends in Bozeman, during the pizza-and-champagne evening we had. It also included PBR, never fear:




So that's what I've been up to. We also went to an airshow in Helena, MT - where we watched the Air Force Thunderbirds perform, and got to check out some cool helicopters and planes. The focus on the military here in Montana isn't too surprising; it seems like a lot of folks are middle-America Apple Pie, and a lot of the kids go into the Reserves.

That's Montana for now. Off to Glacier soon.

MEPN Reflections.

Those are my hands. We're doing a small art installation at our graduation ceremony and they will be part of them.

Today I finished my final hours of clinical instruction, and it still hasn't hit home:
I'm done.

Monday there is a class, but I'm headed to a wedding, and I was okayed to go early in the quarter.
So really, I'm done.

This year has been very short, but jam-packed. We were talking about some heavy stuff at lunch, and I thought I'd post some of the stuff I've experienced this year:

Poop is just not a big deal anymore. Period. Cleaned up a lot of it this year, and there's probably more to come.
Was present with a patient who watched her husband slip away more and more neurologically as cancer took over his body. And cried with her.
Learned that yes, I *can* take care of four patients at once on a med-surge floor, but it's hard and I can't do it and be doing a good job.
Learned I have a ton more to learn.
Started an IV on someone who was scared of needles, first try.
Missed on a few people who were scared of needles, first try. Didn't go for a second.
Watched one of my favorite patients go through acute rejection of a transplanted liver.
Watched the team of doctors and nurses pull for her to get a second transplant, and I watched her go home happy and healthy from that second surgery. That was a miracle.
Sat in the ICU with a woman who was too sick to be transplanted, and had been begging us to "let her go home." I held her hand as she was dying, intubated in the ICU, and she turned her head toward me for a moment when she was supposedly "unconscious." And the next day I held her daughter's hand.
Watched the acute distress of a young man who had his last bit of hope dashed when we learned he was in acute rejection of his lungs. I don't know the last outcome, but it was not looking good.
Sat with that memory intensely when my friend, Anne, died following acute rejection of her lungs at age 33.
Helped take care of a 3 year old boy who was dying in the PICU.
Helped care for an 11 year old developmentally delayed girl on dialysis with spina bifida who was in pain and spoke only Spanish. And helped her family get in touch with translators.
Laughed with an old woman who was incontinent after being in the ED for 3 hours (I had just showed up). Her remark, "Well, if you guys had actually checked on me, you might have noticed earlier. What do you expect? I'm old!" She watched us running around like busy bees.
Listened to a 12 year old with Lupus who had been in the hospital for a month, and who told me that all she wanted to do was go home and hang out with her brother and her cat. And have a piece of pizza, for once.
Charted with a 4 month old in my arms who would cry unless he was held by one of the nurses. He'd turn blue if he cried: Tetralogy of Fallot, and he would sleep if I sang to him.
Cried from anger while taking care of a pre-teen girl who had been hit by a bullet while playing, and was decerebrate. She would make noises that seemed like frustration or pain, and the reality of that situation broke my heart. I was overwhelmed by the love of her family, and still feel sick over the way violence destroyed her life. When I saw her picture from her soccer team, taken a week earlier, I nearly vomited because I was so angry, and the change in her was that drastic. I will never, EVER forget her.
Had a frank, genuine conversation with someone who was diagnosed as a paranoid schizophrenic, who told me, "Wow, you calmed me down!"
Had a patient tell me he loved me, in a really sweet way, and I could not tell him that I loved him back, because how do you explain platonic love to someone who is in a locked inpatient psych ward? I mean, really, how?
Held the hand of a spouse who discovered her husband had been rejected for a transplant, and has a year to live....
and still haven't emailed them.
Held my tongue when a precepting nurse chided me for holding the hand of a woman in labor.
Auscultated - and played with - a girl who had two hearts. Yes, two. Heterotopic heart transplant if you want to look it up. Imagine the ECG.
Failed on numerous attempts of trying to do something good. Fortunately it didn't hurt anyone.
Made a little girl cry by not taking out her IV fast enough (don't prolong the bandaid removal).
Faced some of my own prejudices, especially in psych.
Let go of some fear of TB.
Saw a multitude of vaginal births, and a few crash C-sections. And a few scheduled C-sections.
Relied on friends. Including professors, who were really supportive in all the loss I experienced this quarter. Sheila and Lynn and Pam, thank you. Seriously- thank you all.

And I made some great friends.

SANE/SAFE

People ask what my ultimate goal is within nursing.
I have a few.

I want to be a Sexual Assault Nurse Examiner/Sexual Assault Forensic Examiner (SANE/SAFE) because we need them, and we need them to be helpful, caring, respectful, and good at what they do.
And they should work in emergency.
And in a perfect world, we would never need them.

Here's another story, besides ones from my friends that motivates me. Read at your own risk. I kid you not. If you can't stomach these things, don't read.
I cried for an hour after I read this story.

It is absolutely horrible but there are some good souls left in the world.

And having the tools to help someone in this situation is most certainly my motivation.
Let's stop this violence before it starts, people.

Let's Talk About Organ Donation, for a moment.

I just lost a friend who was given extra years of her life due to someone's gift. She received lungs about a decade ago from a man who had the courage to donate, and recently, at the age of 33, went into an episode of acute rejection, aspergillis infection, and had also developed cancer in her abdomen.

I miss her terribly, and am in shell shock.
I can't even imagine what your family is feeling.

Please, if you haven't, register yourself as an organ donor. If nothing else, I got more years of knowing my friend. She was a beautiful soul, a real fighter, and will be missed by many.
Anne James Ferrari, you have touched the lives of so many. I am so lucky to have known you. Spread your wings my friend, and remember us here. We'll see each other again.

Please, donate life.

And for those of you still here, live every day. Carpe goddam diem.

Here's a photo of her and her beautiful sister (who is also becoming a nurse. I love you, Beth):

For a Patient.

Because I could not stop for Death,
He kindly stopped for me;
The carriage held but just ourselves
And Immortality.

We slowly drove, he knew no haste,
And I had put away
My labor, and my leisure too,
For his civility.

We passed the school, where children strove
At recess, in the ring;
We passed the fields of gazing grain,
We passed the setting sun.

Or rather, he passed us;
The dews grew quivering and chill,
For only gossamer my gown,
My tippet only tulle.

We paused before a house that seemed
A swelling of the ground;
The roof was scarcely visible,
The cornice but a mound.

Since then 'tis centuries, and yet each
Feels shorter than the day
I first surmised the horses' heads
Were toward eternity.

-Emily Dickinson


Morpheus

Oh, Morpheus, give me joy till morning
For my forever painful love:
Just blow out candles' burning
And let my dreams in blessing move.
Let from my soul disappear
The separation's sharp rebuke!
And let me see that dear look,
And let me hear voice that dear.
And when will vanish dark of night
And you will free my eyes at leaving,
Oh, if my heart would have a right
To lose its love till dark of evening!

Alexander Sergeyevich Pushkin


"There's no place like home."
-Dorothy Gale, from Kansas.

Honoring one of my favorite patients, who will probably not make it 48 hours.
I think she recognized me for a second today. She smiled, for just a moment in her confusion and pain.
And then she simply said, "I want to go home."

Maybe I'll see her tomorrow. Maybe not.

Whatever happens, I am grateful to her and her family for allowing me to help them. I am grateful for their love, which teaches me to love in kind.
And I hope that when she does go home, she finds peace.
Sometimes, holding someone's hand is all you can do.

Namaste.

Feeling Alive and Radiant.

The above photo is of Upper Cherry Creek, of Cherry Bomb Falls, a Class VI section of whitewater that Will has rafted. I was part of his backpack support, which was incredible- It was a magical hike, although I was jealous that I didn't get to be in the raft (it was just him and another burly guy), but then it started snowing and I watched them run this rapid at 5pm in June in the Sierras at 6000 feet. In the snow. Yeah. I slid down the granite into camp on my ass, because wet granite is like ice.
It was one of the most difficult and beautiful backpacking trips of my life.

The past two weeks have been tiring - no, exhausting - but something has happened that awoke my spirit. I can't pinpoint it. Well, I can, but I can't publicly describe it. It's like being hit viscerally with this sense of knowing that's beyond a doubt, like walking into a room, seeing something or someone and feeling your stomach fall through your feet. I've felt like something has been coming for a while from the universe/energy/out of the blue/god/whatever, and every day just seems to get better and better, and yes, something has happened. I'm meeting more people who have my same values and interests, always exciting, but it's not *they* who are the cause of this vibrancy; I think it's the fact that my fire is lit up that's bringing them into my life. Know what I mean?
Like sometimes you meet someone and they're a mirror, and you know you have a lot to learn with that person, and that means you're on the right path.

And it's not just the people, - I mean, people definitely excite me, and I'm dorky that way- I'm always wanting to know what makes someone tick, and I'm always curious.

It's kind of the brat in me. I. Want. To. Know. Now. NOW.
Hee hee.

There are opportunities and places to explore and stuff to get involved in that had been tough to find- from medicine to community to job leads. Until the past oh, month or so. Like things are coming together.
I feel like an excited kid when it comes to everything, except a little bit smarter.
And a little shy. But that's another story.

I feel in love with life again.

Will and I are doing well. He came back, and we have deepened our love to a place I didn't think it could go. Honesty. I likes it. I told him some difficult things this week, and we've talked through them. I've never been able to be so raw with someone, and it's been amazing. I feel incredibly lucky to be with him.

Everything I'm doing feels like it has a purpose. This week, someone asked me to describe myself, and one of my words was, "Intense." He nodded and gave me some of his own stories, which I was surprised by. He's not the only person that I've had this same conversation with this week (although with him it was the most intentional and clearest). It's like similar people keep finding each other, over and over.

Intensity. I can't do anything that's not wholehearted. Even writing a paper has me mildly stoked (well, okay, pushing it- but the topic is good).

I keep looking back at what's made me feel the molecules of my soul in the past, and I want to share some of those things with you:


There is nothing like rowing the 226 miles of this river. I miss every day I got to be out here. I faced a change in confidence by rowing rapids that were, for lack of better words, huge, and by having to trust myself to take care of the people around me. I grew so much in the Big Ditch.
And at night, all you get is a strip of stars above you- the walls of the Canyon are so dark that they suck in light. You haven't known dark until you're camped here, and the stars tease you, winking, and if you're lucky, you might get to see a sliver of moon.


More Tenaya Creek at low water- same place my header photo was taken (actually this is looking up the creek instead of where our feet are, which is looking down), but in October. My best friend and I went hiking a few weekends ago, and I didn't realize how much I missed granite.


Rivers up in the Trinity Alps. Don't get me wrong, I love the Sierras. The Trinities have other beauty to them. This was the South Fork Salmon, and wow was it cold. I'm guiding here, on a little 8' drop that was super fun.


Oh yeah, and corsets. If you haven't figured *that* out.

And emergency medicine. And not writing papers. And procrastinating by blogging. And being bratty. And reading anything that's not studying material.

And opening to life.
Opening.

Strangely, for the amount of intensity that has been coursing through me over the past 3 weeks, I feel extremely grounded.
Just really, really...
Happy.

Letting the light shine on!

Love, Bluegrass, and Tears.

Ah yes, 5th week of "schedule A's" quarter, and I'm deep in Med-Surg nursing. Still on the transplant floor. Still doin' my thing.

Last weekend I rode on a float in the LOVEfest parade down Market St in SF. If I could find a photo of me on the Spundae/Skills float, I would, but alas, I was in my EMT pants and a T-shirt, although I had my hidden orange fur and sparkley pants in my bag. I was supposed to volunteer from 11am until 4:30, and ended up staying until 6pm. We had so many calls- lots of overly intoxicated people on various substances, and I was running around with oxygen on my back trying to help them. Doing the quick assessments was actually kind of fun, because it brought back my EMT skills and I was surprised at how comfortable I felt in that environment. A lot of people thanked us. Afterwards, I found some friends and danced until about 7, went home, and drank a margarita. Sweet.
Sunday I went to Hardly Strictly Bluegrass since it was only a mile or so from the house, and had a fantastic time just chillin' with close friends. Listening to Iron and Wine play was magical, as was dancing with the girls to Greg Brown. Awesome day.

Today was a tough one at the hospital. Last week, I took care of a patient who was hoping for a good diagnosis. He didn't get one. He has an inoperable state, and at this point, he has been referred to Hospice care. He'll be here for a few more days, and I'm going to try to be with him tomorrow. His wife is phenomenal, and I cried with her for about 20 minutes this afternoon. There's not much time to give, but what I have, I will.
I can't go more in depth, but that still makes me tear up. Knowing that your parter is going to pass, knowing that you are going to pass- given "time" to do what you need to do... Is it a blessing? He has the opportunity to say what he needs/wants to the people he loves, yet it's limited.
His wife looked at me and asked, "Why is it that we only find out who truly loves us when we're sick or dying? Life is so short- time goes by so fast and we keep promising each other that we'll get together, and it takes something like *this* to make it happen. Why?" She paused, looked at me, and said, "Enjoy every moment you can. If you learn nothing else as a student, enjoy every moment you can."
That's when I started crying.
I hugged her.
In the middle of the hug, my stupid cell phone started vibrating, and we both laughed and laughed. Perfectly ludicrous.
They've been married for 40 years. I've been with my boyfriend for 2.
My heart aches for them.

And then there is that question: how *do* you go back into the hall and help your patients after that? How? My heart was heavy, but I got elbow-deep into poop (literally- and discovered a pressure ulcer and worked to prevent skin breakdown) and tended to the needs of someone else who is, very literally, dying.

Inoperable.
Bad word on our floor, but seemed to be the word of the day.
Sigh.

All we can do is love openly, celebrate the time we have, and be here for each other.
Those words from my NP friend echo through my head: "There's not a day that goes by where I don't hug a patient or am there for a patient. I give good news and bad news. When I've lost my ability to emote, then it's time to move on from this."

I'm just getting into it, and it's heartbreaking and beautiful all at the same time.

This weekend I'm at a wedding. A beginning. I think I need it.

Firsts, Escapes, and Anniversaries.

First of all, if any of you readers are applying to MEPN right now, congratulations on finishing. Tonight at midnight is the deadline, and I remember all to well scrambling to get it all in.
In fact, the GRE made sure that I was late by a week, but somehow it all worked out. Have faith that yes, indeed, it will work out for you.

Non-MEPN stuff: I went to my first same-sex wedding in the beautiful Genessee Valley area of California. My friends Julie and Abigail tied the knot in the best ceremony I've ever been to, out in the middle of nowhere on their property past the North Fork Feather river.

Almost all of my river friends were attending, and I had a weekend of margaritas, sleeping bags and dust boogers that made my fall happy. This weekend, I'm volunteering in the med tent at the LOVEfest, hosting a few women at my house who are going to Hardly Strictly Bluegrass, and just unwinding. The Gourds are playing, and they play the best version of Gin and Juice (which, incidentally, Will plays on his banjo). So will Emmylou, Iron and Wine, and Poor Man's Whiskey. Sweet.

I miss Will. He's in Houston, doing hurricane relief, still. Probably there until December.

MEPN stuff:
Last week we had rapid response on our floor 4 times, once for someone with 10/10 chest pain and shortness of breath with a low O2 sat- ended up that patient didn't have an MI (heart attack- or "myocardial infarction," an "infarct" being an area of dead tissue due to lack of oxygen). And then another patient had Atrial Fibrulation alternating with Sinus Tachycardia. It was a chance for me to be the EMT on the floor; when the docs said, "get oxygen tubing" I already had it and the christmas tree (the attachment that allows us to connect tubing to oxygen). I also ended up printing out the ECGs for them. Yay! That was exciting.

Also firsts, some not so good: first long-term patient death. Sigh. Remember, yes, my info is changed due to HIPAA, so I don't always get to tell you everything that's happened. I will say this, the patient's room always smelled wonderful, due to aromatherapy, and I loved being in that room, regardless of how good or bad the day was for him. I took care of this patient about 3 days. He was waiting for a miracle, was young, needed more than one organ. He died waiting in the ICU from a massive internal bleed. His platelets were always low, and the clotting factors were always at critical values. And there were reasons for that, but it doesn't make it any less sad.
I haven't cried yet. I need to share this info with another MEPN who cared for him even more intensively than I did. The info I'm giving you, public, is different than what really happened, but it affects me nonetheless. I spent last Friday thinking about this person and remembering interacting with his family.
My heart felt heavy.
It's different, you know, when it's someone you've met briefly, than when it's someone you've helped out with on a day-to-day basis. Someone you've advocated for, watched the doctors go in and talk to, watched the discussion by the teams as to whether they're going to get what they need or not.

I started my first IV, a 20G on someone who's a "hard stick" and I nailed it. Proud? No: Glowing. I hate needles, and I faint when people come near me with them, so I'm uber aware of how I treat people with them, and I'm all about being a phlebotomy pro. I always used to get the hard sticks at Planned Parenthood, and now I feel like I did well with someone in the acute care setting, and I'm willing to go further.

A MEPN saved someone's life last week. She noticed a fever, and essentially caught early sepsis on someone. It wasn't someone who had had a ton of patient care experience; she was just very observant and very dedicated. And she's smart.
One small light, a small flickering flame that glows just enough for one person to see can change the world.
I hope that if I ever get sick I'm lucky enough to have this person as my nurse. She's awesome.

It's that time of year when we're getting sick, sore throats, tired - even though our schedule has eased up. Our first test is tomorrow.
MEPN is tough. Many of us have gained weight, lost partners, lost sleep.
There's a lot I'm editing, but more will come to light later, when I'm done with this program.

For now, it's all about the basics, the day to day stuff, the hopeful living and breathing and learning that we all do together.

For you applicants, think about nursing, and imagine yourself with someone at they're most vulnerable moments. Yeah, you'll hear a lot of jokes about "wiping ass," - which incidentally I do a lot- but think about being with someone when they're vulnerable and need that help. What an honor it is.
If you can't see it as an honor to be with someone when they're so sick they can barely take care of themselves, then this pathway is not for you.
If you feel that you have enough love for the entire world, with a little left over for yourself at the end of the day, then by all means, walk through the fire and do it, because it's worth it.
What a fucking honor. Every day.
The light in me honors the light in you. Namaste.
Whatever your reason is, let is shine forth in your essay, and best of luck.