Throwback Thursday

Something happened to me today that doesn't happen often ...ok, maybe ever. I became nostalgic over high school memories. I'm not one of those bitter people that looks back on high school with any sort of negative emotion. I actually loved high school. But from the moment I graduated, it's never been anything I'd wanted to go back to. And I think that's the way it should be. Life just gets better and better every day. So today when my sister texted me a video of this year's graduating class singing the School Song at their commencement ceremony, I was surprised when I teared up a bit.  I don't want to go back by any means, but I had a flood of memories of laughter and good times while watching the video. Remembering the countless hours spent with arms around best friends (--Kelli, Kristy, and even Steph and Becca although they were younger) screaming the school song at the top of our lungs at halftime of basketball games. Remembering that it was our class that started the tradition and how fun it was when Ben Salisbury would wheel out the piano at halftime and we'd all scream away. I remember the feeling at my own high school graduation as we sang the words "We will always say as we go our way, and of this it can be told; The friendships dear we have made while here, are a treasure more than gold." I teared up then as we got ready to toss our caps in the air because it was true. And it was also the end of an era. The end of childhood and the beginning of adulthood. And looking back it was such an exciting precipice to be on the edge of. And what a wild, crazy, and wonderful ride was ahead of me. My friendship with Kristy that began before and has grown stronger after, as well as my friendship with Kelli are among my most treasured life experiences from high school. Two friendships that no matter the time, distance, or events between us will always feel like coming home.

In other throwback news that surprised me this week, I went to see the movie Million Dollar Arm with Jill. This is not surprising. We love sports movies --and this one was AMAzing. What was surprising, is that she cried through the end, and I didn't . Shed. A. Single. Tear. Shocking, I know. I just don't think I'd filled my tear-tank back up from my emotional breakdown two days before. I'm getting off track. The throwback surprising part happened before the movie. We were getting ice-cream at Coldstone. There were periods of time during college where I would eat nothing but Apple Pie A-La Coldstone with oatmeal cookie batter ice cream for weeks. Every day.  As I was waiting to pay for my ice cream I dug through the pile of cards in my wallet and came across an old punch card from the Logan store. I don't remember when I got it, but it may very well have been in the college years. I asked the girl if they still took them, and she said they had a different card, but that she could trade it over. As she was throwing mine away she saw the Logan address on the back and asked if we lived in Logan because the card she switched over to was only good at a few SLC locations. I said, no it's just an old card from college. And she said, "Oh so from a while ago then?" And I wasn't offended in the slightest. Surprising huh?  It's been ten years since I graduated from college the first time. Ten years. And I don't want to look like a 21 year old any more. I want to look like a woman in her 30s who has lived and experienced life, who has figured out who she is and who loves and has loved every minutes of those ten years. It was a very deeply happy moment to realize how at peace I was with the woman I am.

What would Throwback Thursday be without a few photos :)

Kristy and Me

Kelli and Me

2004 Nsg School Graduation

2014 -the 10yr anniversary shot

A Rose by Any Other Smell...

First, today I had a small breakdown that brought me to tears at the thought that I'm 31 years old (I think, right? I'm 31? Pretty sure...) and still don't really know what my life is doing. And my first thought was, I have GOT to go running tomorrow. It's only been three weeks and the breakdowns are back. So, bonus points to me for healthy living and productivity. My second thought was that I was going to spend my evening wrapped in a blanket in my favorite chair listening to Ed Sheeran, Carey Brothers, and binge-watching season three of The Vampire Diaries. All of which are cued for when I close my laptop.

Second, and the purpose of me writing this post, a thought I had the other day when I had been awake for 17 hours, and had two hours to sleep before having to be up for 18 hours. Read: when I should have been sleeping. And I had the following thoughts that came to me in that way that demands to be written about immediately.

I always wanted to be one of those girls with a signature perfume. Something someone smelled and thought of you. Something that if you died tragically someone would pick up the fancy lone bottle of perfume from your night stand and smell it wistfully, breathing in memories of you as they sigh -that kind of signature perfume.

But how do you do that? At what age is it appropriate to pick just one scent? I mean, does anyone want to still smell like Sunflowers? (My 7th grade scent) --my first obsession. Actually, if we're being honest, the first perfume I was convinced was my signature was from a boxed set my grandmother gave me when I was nine. I think it had been in her cupboard for years. It was called Chantilly Lace and came in this awful pink container with lace over the top and gold writing. Even now I remember that it smelled like the little blue hairs in the grocery store that have the dull sense of smell that necessitates 75 squirts of the eye-watering, nostril-burning, powder and bad flowers perfume. God, can you imagine if that one had stuck?!

So clearly, the proper age is not nine. Or anything in middle school. And as much as I loved high school, I don't want to smell like it for a second after I graduated. In the same manner that you wake up the morning after graduation and feel the instant quality of life improvement and frolic in the realization that life is now glorious and you're never going back. Smell included.

And at some point you grow out of wanting to smell like a Victoria's Secret store (the college phase) ...although, moment of silence for Love Spell...

Last week I bought what is going to be my new scent for the time being. Roses de Chloe. Which is surprising, because I'm  normally not a flower-ey gal. Getting off topic. I got a sample of this one on a recent trip to Sephora, and I used the entire mini tube. I just loved it. And I had to have more. Which means that the bottle of Love by Nina (Nina Ricci) that I'd been using would join the bottle of D&G Light Blue -Walking in Portofino that was my scent in and every time I wanted to be reminded of Greece. The bottle of Nina by Nina Ricci that reminds me of Macy's on 34th St. The bottle of Clean -Cotton Tshirt that was my at-work perfume in Seattle. The bottle of Daisy by Marc Jacobs that smells like Southern California paradise, trips to Disneyland, and road trips to Sea World. The bottle of Armani Code that smells like giggles in the back corner of a hidden shop in Chinatown all the way up the A-train to Fort Tryon park in Manhattan and everything in between. The bottle of Dream Angels -Forever that smells like winter nights in Logan after a basketball game. The bottle of Escada that smells like new-found collegiate freedom and exploding horizons.

As well as the bottles that smell like retail therapy, the salon you tore the sample page from the magazine out of, the ones that remind you of Saks on 5th Ave, the one you got because it smelled young and fun, the one that smelled like sheer elegance. These are the bottles that have been sprayed perhaps once. Most not even that. But I still have them. My sentimentality won't let me throw them away, and I keep adding to the collection. I have some at my parent's house that I was able to remove from my night stand years ago that are filled with even more memories of high school and the beginning of college.

But at this point, I feel like I should have one prevailing perfume that's my go-to. I mean, there are a few perfumes that I have a firm link to different people in my life. Mom, old roommates, etc. And I'm not even sure that they're still using those perfumes either. So what is the appropriate time that you choose what you want to be remembered by for a lifetime in people's noses?  Because right now my night stand looks like this. These are things that keep me awake at night.

Wisdom and A Longing for Home

I just took part in a research study on wisdom in nursing practice, and I'm feeling overwhelmed. After the week I've had I needed today. I needed to realize as I talked to the researcher that I AM good at what I do. That there is truly a lot of actual wisdom that goes in to what I do every day. I am not a trained monkey who fetches pills. Being good at what I do takes so much more than education and training. It takes a solid base of knowledge and education that is put into a continual loop of experience in stressful situations, debriefing, and adding what you learn from each situation where you make a difference to your base of knowledge, and the cycle repeats. As I spoke with the researcher about stressful situations where I feel like I made a difference I was homesick for my Seattle Family. In each scenario we discussed I was bursting with pride for the team I was a part of, I was proud to tell her the way that we made a difference, and in the way that we practiced excellence every day. There was such a thirst for knowledge in my Valley Family. The desire to know more, to be the best, and to continually learn was truly truly remarkable. And I miss it. It was one of the forests I didn't see for the trees when I was there. The raw intelligence coupled with the desire to learn and grow and do and be the best at all times is not commonplace. It should be, but that environment, those people, were truly unique. I have been fortunate to work with many great great healthcare professionals. And each place I've worked has had a handful of greats. Valley just has a lot more than a handful. The network of people there are nothing short of amazing. The team, the family. There's not another place like it in the world. The doctors, the nurses, the techs, every piece was the embodiment of what healthcare should be.

Sometimes

I love TV. I need TV. It may not be healthy. But sometimes patients die. And sometimes they're young. And sometimes their small children and spouses are in the room when they unexpectedly ...just. Die. And you worry about the child, because... How do you get over something like that? Being a second grader and watching your parent just... And you hear the child tell the social worker as she escorts the child from the room where you and your team of sometimes-superheroes break the child's parent's ribs attempting to coax the heart into beating again, "It's ok. S/he's done this before. S/he always comes back." Because s/he was sick. And s/he'd died before. But sometimes, they don't come back. Sometimes you're not a superhero. Sometimes you just become a face that a traumatized family member recalls when they're haunted by the worst day of their life. And sometimes you have to hit the reset button in your brain because the loved ones of your used-to-be-patient are surrounding them, and singing to them, and being together. And your patient with back pain is at the nurses station demanding to know why it's taking so long to be discharged. And another patient needs medication. And another patient needs labs drawn. And another physician needs assistance for an exam. And another twelve patients are hobbling through the doors. So, sometimes you need to come home, eat chocolate caramel truffles for dinner, turn on the TV, and cry because Will Gardner is dead. And the whole reason you watched the show was to see how he and Alicia would end up together in the end, because surely they would. And you need to cry because he's dead now, and it's sad. And sometimes you need to come home and take yourself to a world where vampires exist. Or where six twenty-somethings figure out life in New York City. Sometimes you need to wish that you were a size two black woman who solves problems for the White House. But today, you need to cry because Will Gardner died, and it's sad. Thanks TV.

The Journey -It's a Long One

I'm at kind of an impasse with myself. I don't even know how to begin. I haven't updated anything of substance for so long, and the longer it gets the more I find myself asking what the point is of trying to catch myself up in the blogging world. It's been nearly eight months since I've been back in Utah. Eight months, and I still type the words and my brain says, "In that place completely devoid of any cultural diversity." So there's that. Eight months, and I'm still figuring it out; What this new phase of my life looks like. The thing I most often compare what I've been through is the defibrillating of a heart. When we defibrillate a heart --send a giant shock to the muscle-- there is a moment when the heart is completely stunned into stillness. We resume CPR (contrary to what you have seen on tv) immediately after the shock to force the heart muscle through the motions of beating. To pump oxygen to the muscle so that it can begin to beat again on it's own. For two minutes we pump oxygen to the heart muscle before we check for a return of spontaneous circulation. Before we see if the heart is able to do it again on it's own after such a giant shock.

As much as I planned and was looking forward to moving closer to family, I was ill-prepared for what a shock it truly was to my system. To me. I look back to those first few days and I wonder if they actually happened. Was this real life? Did I actually leave a beloved friend's wedding to drive 800 miles, unpack my entire life in a day and start a new job two days after leaving the place that still feels like home? It's all such a blur. I remember smiling and faking it a lot --just because I was so stunned from the change that I couldn't keep up with reality. I watched a lot of The Vampire Diaries, and listened to a lot of music --because they were constants. I remember hoping that I wouldn't be unbearable enough to permanently damage any friendships, but feeling powerless to change or take control over any of it. It's all such a fog now!  I feel as though I'm finally emerging from the fog though, finally keeping up with life.

And oh those people who saw me through it. The girl that left so long ago is not the one who returned. The girl that left who had never lived without roommates, thrived on being constantly surrounded by people, with lists of things to do and social functions to attend. The girl who lived for all things college-life. That girl came to value the calm and serenity of solitude. She came to no longer fear being truly alone with herself, she didn't need the other noise anymore. The obsession with all things college-related moved to an obsession with the Yankees, and Broadway, art and literature, and love, and being outside, and self-discovery. The girl who never missed an episode of Grey's Anatomy realized that she hadn't actually liked the show for the past four years, yet continued to watch every week. Until that realization. Things just change. Not my most eloquent words, but simple and true. It was a long seven year process. It still is. It always is. That's life, right?

And the thing about only seeing people on vacation -family and friends- is that you only see the best parts of each other. It's all sunshine and reunions and catching up. Before any of the real-life hits it's time to go back to your real lives. And so it's been rough. I'm so grateful to have friendships that have stood the test of time and change and growth. For friends who are still friends even when I bail on plans we've made. Friends that have put up with me during this tumultuous time of my life --I quite honestly haven't made it easy on anyone. But it's getting easier for me. Easier to be here. I no longer cry on the way home from my parent's house or from my brother and sister-in-laws. I no longer cry at the thought of having to put scrubs on and go to work. I no longer require ten minutes of sitting in my car to talk myself in to going in to work. It took a lot of Wednesday nights, a lot of cross-continent venting sessions, a lot of therapy-writing, a lot of wistful text messages to my Seattle family, and ultimately a dinner in Seattle with the people of the last five years of my life to let me normalize myself.

The opening sentence to each journal entry written during the first six months of living here:

*I never wanted to come back here. I've hated it here since I left if I'm being honest with myself. (Sept.)
*What was once a passion is now a mindless diversion. I smile, I say the right things, I don't care. This isn't what I signed up for. It's not the vision, not the plan. (Sept.)
*I hate it here, I hate it here, I hate it here, I hate it here. (Oct.)
* It's been a reflective past couple months. I'm struggling to hold on to myself. To the girl that I fought so hard to become. (Dec)
*I'm still hanging in here, just trying to figure life out. (Jan.)
* I haven't felt "at home" for six months. Every part of me feels out of place. (Jan.)

Thoughts scribbled on my trip back to Seattle in the end of January --meant to be notes to a long and beautiful blog post, then two months went by and I still hadn't written it anywhere outside of my head:

*It feels like I'm going home.
*It's been six months since I've been on a plane,and I'm strangely out of my routine. The ear planes, the phone, the iPad, the noise cancelling headphones, I'm out of practice!
*The airport smells like home!
*Never underestimate the comfort to be found in a grocery store that's familiar.
*Everything looks familiar here. There are trees everywhere, and it's just easier to breathe. Like a weight is finally off my chest.
*It's more than just familiarity. It's the sitting in a room at a dinner table full of people that you've been through the worse of your life with. As have they. And we're all healed. And happy. And whole.

That trip. That dinner. There are just no words to describe. What I came away with was that it wasn't the location that I missed. It was the familiarity and the bonds of friendship that I missed.  My dear friend Janice put it best when she said, "This whole weekend has been amazing. It has shown me how people can truly heal, even from their lowest lows. How change can be good, and sad at the same time. How sometimes friends are more family than your family is. And how even after many years, those trusted in your darkest moments are still your biggest support no matter the time or distance between you... What a good weekend of memories, friendship, and love."  There are many people I wanted to see, but didn't have time to. And a couple that I would have liked to spend more time with than I did, but the group at that dinner table could not have been more perfect. Every person at that table had been through the roughest part of their lives at some point in the last five years. And each person there had seen each other person through it. We all know each other's skeletons and deepest secrets because we lived through them. And to sit there and just look around and how whole and happy and healed and grown up everyone was. It was mind-blowing. The moments we shared. The moments and the way that we took care of each other. The way we leaned and relied on each other. Bonds forged in the fire that can never be broken. It's strange the way feeling so at home for a weekend made me okay with coming back to my life. But okay I was. I came back and I felt like myself again.

I had a moment. A flashing moment on the tarmac just as we were picking up speed (my favorite part of a flight) about to take off from Seattle soil where I panicked. Where I felt like,and actually contemplated, running up the aisle and screaming, NO! I don't want to go! Don't take me away from here! Tears rolled down my cheeks and my breathing became shallow and rapid, panicked. Before I took a deep breath and told myself, no. It's ok. It's time for you to figure this out. Go back and figure out this next step. And don't you dare be that quiet timid girl who dreamed small and accepted what was given. You fight. Fight to stay the you that is at peace and at home here. The girl who dreams and lives large and loud. The woman who is apologetically herself. You went through a lot to become her, don't loose her. Don't you dare stop exploring, experiencing, and loving. They may think you insignificant, but don't you dare make it so.

And that was it. I came home and I started living again. Not just going through the motions. I started running. I started being outside. I started smiling. I started uploading photos to facebook -something I hadn't felt like doing for months. I finally felt up to it. My dear friend Mercy is living in Ethiopia saving lives in the realm of public health --she's amazing. She had messaged me a day or so before having a homesick day -craving the familiar. As you do. The "home" in homesick is a very relative thing. I shared with her my post-vaca realization "The move was harder than I could have ever anticipated. I thought it was going to be easy to be honest. All good things, sunshine and roses and what not. Then I got here and was just in complete shock for six months. Just stunned with change. Going through the motions, grasping at anything that made me feel human...It wasn't really Seattle that I missed, it was the feelings. The people. My people. And thank God for modern technology, because I have those things with me everywhere.I have access to my people always. And maybe we don't get to all sit in the same room very often, but when we do, it's magic. Friendships like that never die. Even though it's hard to be thousands of miles from the people who know you best, and whom you love with all your soul, the relationships are there."

Even through the rough months I was SO blessed with amazing friends. Both far away -as described at length. But also here. And I don't want any of my struggles to take away from the sheer awesomeness of my people here. It's not them, it's me ;) My best friend from high-school and I have been getting together every Wednesday under the pretense of baking. Don't get me wrong we always bake something, but this has been the thing that I look forward to like no other. I count down to the days when I see her and her sweet family like therapy. Her friendship has been a constant through all phases of my life, and I couldn't be more grateful to be so close again.

My amazing brother and sister-in-law have saved me so many times! I leaned on those Sunday dinners and days when I could spend the day playing at their house with my nephew like it was necessary for my survival. And really, it probably was. I'm such a lucky girl to have such an amazing brother who married such an amazing woman and who makes such adorable little humans :)

My sister. Oh my sister. What would I do without her! Having her so close and always within text or call for my many freak-outs is a god-send. And her sweet husband and sweet sweet baby. I really have the luckiest family in the world.  My mom who loves me so much, and my dad who just gets me in a way that few people on this earth do. They're amazing.

And my Jill. Jill is my tie to my college years -that's when we became such good friends, and she's saved me in oh so many ways since I've been back. The parties, the dinners, the showing me where Target is,and where the yummy places to eat are, and really, just how to live here!! :)  Love her!

And that has been the last eight months of my life in re-cap. Minus the Seahawks superbowl win, and a couple other things to be blogged about later. There ya go Heids --I blogged ;)

Oh, and a couple of bonus random thoughts:

*I feel bad for people with thin naturally sleek frizz-free hair. They will never know the orgasmic joy of the silky smooth softness that is your hair after a deep conditioning Moroccan oil mask!

*Miracles aren't always punctuation marks. -Elisabeth R. Finch (The Fault in Our Stars)

*I'm OBSESSED with the ballerina project on instagram!!!

*I started my third week of training for a 5k today and actually enjoyed my run!  I'm not so much looking to love running --if I do that'd be great, but I just don't want to hate it anymore. I want it to be something I can do -even if I choose not to after running my 5k. I don't want to be stuck in middle school anymore where my attitude toward running currently resides.

What A Year

So many things. So many changes. So many accomplishments. So many places. So many.

Preach it Sista! --A Must-Read

I came across this blog post and the following reply linked on facebook by two of my friends and former co-workers in New York. It is too good not to share. I can't tell you how tired I get of hearing people complain about how long they had to wait in the ER that one time when they had to go. A former patient of mine said it best on a particularly horrendous night at Mission Hospital in Mission Viejo, CA. He had just been assigned to a room, I came in and apologized for the wait. His reply has stuck with me for six years. He said, "You know, I never feel bad about having to wait anymore because there was one time I didn't have to wait. I brought my five year old son in who was not breathing. We were rushed back and immediately surrounded by a team of nurses, physicians, and techs. My son is alive because of those people, and I hope I never have to not wait again. Every time I have to wait, I thank God." Emergencies don't wait. That's what it boils down to. Remember that before you call your local ER to inquire what the wait time is. We will NEVER be able to answer that question because we can't see you over the phone. Hint: if the wait time or weather has any effect on your "need" to go to the emergency room, it's not an emergency. Rest assured, if you have an emergency you will not wait. It is called an emergency room, not a convenience room. That's my ten-years-experience two cents on the following article and reply. The blog post was written by and ER nurse and the follwing reply was written by a man who has been an ER physician for fifteen years.

Someone named Rose replied to the original blog post with her opinion that being busy is no excuse. An opinion that seems to be popular among those who have never seen the inner workings of the emergency room --be it as a healthcare worker or emergent patient. The following is the reply of Derek, an ER physician --priceless:

December 25, 2013 at 7:55 am

Rose, you must have accidentally thought you went to the “Convenience Room”. Believe it or not, you actually went to the “Emergency Room”. In theory, there should not be a single test performed in the ‘Emergency Room’ that we can just ‘send you home and call you later’. We are testing for, well, “emergencies”.

Can you imagine: Ring, ring… “Hey, Rose? … Dr. Smith here. … Yeah, so the tests came back. … You are, in fact, dying. Rather quickly, actually. … What?. … I know, right?! … Yeah, so, an-tee-way, do you mind, like, coming back in?… Great!…. Also, please stop by Arby’s and have a double roast beef and supersize curly fries before you come back. Thanks! Drive careful! … Of course you can have a work note. See ya in a bit! We’ll get the Demerol ready!”

The reason you are waiting so long is people have lost sight of what the emergency room is about. ED staff are overwhelmed with noise and trying to pick out that signal in the noise is becoming even more difficult. That includes PMD’s, specialists, nurses and especially patients.

Seriously, last shift I worked these were some of the chief complaints: ‘vomited once 3 hours ago’ … ‘no complaint- car accident yesterday, wants to get checked out’ …. ‘no complaint- had positive pregnancy test at home and wants to confirm’…. ‘bloody nose in a 13yo *yesterday*; mom read on internet it could be cancer; wants cancer testing’- at 3am …. ‘rash for 2 weeks, called PMD answering service at 2am, Told patient to go to ED’

The reason we ignore you is the same reason you turn the radio down when you are following directions. We need to concentrate so we don’t get lost. I say this about 10 times a shift, “If you are waiting in an emergency room it is a good thing.” You don’t want to be the person that doesn’t wait. Trust me.

The average stay for an ED visit is 4 hours. *Average*. So half of all ED visits will be over 4 hours.

God forbid you call your primary, wait 1 or 2 weeks and then to go to your primary, then wait another 2 weeks for results. Honestly, your problem will most likely be resolved before you get to the appointment. You can then cancel your appointment then BAM! Money in the pocket.

50-70% of what comes through the door does not even need to be there. Remember the Great Runny Nose Epidemic of 1746 that killed 17 million people? Exactly, because it didn’t f’ing exist. Colds just go away after 2 weeks. So does most everything else.

Also, when did fever in otherwise well appearing children become an emergency? And vomiting? Geez, when I was a kid I didn’t even wake up my parents. I would just get a trash can and vomit all night. By the next day gone.

Wait, you don’t have a primary? If only they could invent something, like a book that would have phone numbers in it– we could call it a “phone **book**”. We could even separate businesses from regular people. Perhaps, a different color of paper, like green, red… no! How about yellow?

Wait, you have no money? How can you then possibly justify a $1500 ED bill for cold like symptoms vs a $300 office visit? Don’t forget the $700 ambulance since you couldn’t find a ride.

BTW, No, I will not give you a work note; i need you to go to work and pay off your *&%$-ing bill so everyone else doesn’t have to pay double on account of your lazy ass.

Also, don’t tell me you don’t have $300, when you spend $2098.76 a year on cigarettes. What? Oh, you just bum them off of everyone else and don’t ever buy them? Ah, Just like your healthcare.

ED doc for 15yrs.