I've been Eaten

"Nurses eat their young"

A little saying known in the health care field...I've always wondered what this means but let me tell you what it means:

It means crushing a small spirit that's trying to grow.

It means snatching the joy right out of some one's heart.

It means snickering at another just to make them feel belittled.

It means having no remorse for the little girl who's crying in the bathroom.

Worst day of my life today. That's an exaggerated saying, but really. This someone was me and you could go so far to say that today I was eaten by my very own kind.

I had clinicals in the ICU today and I was feeling a little intimidated just walking in. It'd been a week or two since I'd been here so its like trying to remember what it feels like to tie shoe strings when you've had velcro shoes for a couple of years. You don't actually forget...its just weird for awhile.

To add to my intimidation and uneasiness I got assigned to the worst nurse on the planet. I guess I'll give her some credit...but not much. I had watched her on the floor before today and I was scared of her not even having her as my assigned nurse. She's terrible rude and unapproachable, stuck in her ways, and maybe even holds her nose a little higher than everyone else. (that's my opinion anyways)

I worked up the courage to introduce myself to her and she barely looked at me twice. She told me I wouldn't have much to do during the day...immediately shooting me down. Most nurses let you follow them or show you stuff as they go about their day. This one didn't care if I sat in the corner all morning.

So I tried to continue on with positive thoughts and did the things I knew how to and then it came for me to give my patient her morning meds at 9 am but this nurse already did it at 7:30. Shot down. No opportunity for me.

I tried to keep myself busy and look around for stuff to get in on, but I just kept feeling in the way and unimportant. I kept telling myself that I was important and then all of sudden I began believing that I wasn't.

The ICU seemed so big. The halls were so long. And I was so small.

I tried to ask my nurse a question later and again, shot down. I was just in her way. Again, my patient wanted to talk to her so I said I would go find her for them and when I got her attention she was annoyed and asked what it is that she could possibly be needed for that I couldn't just do myself.

By 10 am, the doctor had ordered a new medicine for my patient and got excited that it was finally time to BE something of importance and have some kind of worth. But I had to wait on my professor and by the time the nurse saw I was still waiting on my professor (maybe a 15 min. wait) the nurse said "I'll just do it" and ripped the medicine right out of my hand and ran into the room to do it with no regard of anything that she just destroyed in me.

I wanted to cry. But I held back. I tried to still watch. But nothing inside me wanted to be in the hospital anymore. I didn't even want to have my scrubs anymore. I'll turn in my badge. I'll hand you anything you need to let me go. I don't want this anymore.

I spent awhile crying in the bathroom. And I spent more hours today debating on whether I should actually be a nurse. One of my most truest passions.

But then my professor saw me and took me to a quiet room and sat down in a chair beside me and just let me vent. She talked with me and calmed me down and then looked me in the eye and said "You're gonna be a good nurse."

So I believed her.

I dried my eyes and thought...I hope I have a student follow me someday and when I do...I hope I make them feel on top of the world. Not like shit. I deserved better. Human beings deserve better.

My professor said I still learned things today. Maybe I did. She's probably right.

meg

Here's My Apple

Homeless and beggars BREAK my heart. They've always broken my heart. And the fact of the matter is that it should always continue to break my heart.



I remember a time when I was little (like maybe 7) and me and my family were driving to go get our Christmas pictures...so it was sometime in November. And we drove by a corner and there was a homeless man in a wheelchair with no legs past his knees. He was holding a sign that said HUNGRY WILL WORK FOR FOOD. And as a 7 year old I just couldn't understand how this man didn't have food! I have food whenever I want it...so why can't he? So I did the natural 7 year old girl thing and I just started crying. And my parents in the front of the van were so confused. They had no idea what triggered my break down but I could barely even speak. I just kept crying and breathing really hard and snot running down my face. WE JUST DROVE BY A MAN WHO DOESN'T HAVE ANY FOOD! AND THE WORST THING IS THAT HE'D EVEN SAID HE'D WORK AND HE HAS NO LEGS!!!!!!



My parents spent a great deal of time trying to calm me down and they said we could buy him some food on our way home...I just needed to stop crying so we could take the pictures. But I didn't want to! I needed to get food to that man! Eventually my soul calmed and I couldn't wait to give get back to him. But after the pictures were done, we drove by that corner again... and he wasn't even there anymore.



Don't even think that story will ever leave me.



Fast forward to today. I'm 21 and still just as confused as to what to do for those people. I spent a lot of time Freshman year hanging out homeless people on Friday nights and I got to know some real well. I've had both positive and negative experiences stick with me, but I'm constantly trying to refine my perspective and my actions in the present.



Yet I have the same worry of what do I do?? I've been weary about being a young single woman and yet wanting to show nothing but compassion. But I've been warned to be on my guard and that's always in the back of my mind. This is my dilemma.



The past couple of weeks I've seen the same homeless man at the interstate exit and I just sit there at the light and think...I can't do anything. Little money, fear of being taken advantage of, and doubt that anything I do CHANGES anything.



3 weeks have gone by with this pit in my stomach because of the guilt I feel of not being able to do anything. And then here came the 4th week just this past Monday where I had to take this dreaded exit and see the same eye stare in my car and feel the same feeling. The feeling that I have everything and can't think of anything I could do for this man. I was waiting at the light and then I looked down and I saw an apple I had in my cup holder. Then it hit me. GIVE THIS AWAY. And I got so excited.



I looked on the floor of the passenger seat and I also had a bag of chips I didn't eat at lunch. Oh! And a rice krispie in the back seat!!! I rolled down my window so anxiously, this time hoping the light would actually NOT change soon and yelled "Hey! Do you want my apple?!?"



This is a long story for a real simple ending. But it changed something inside of me. I saw that I had something to "do" that was right under my nose (sitting in my cup holder) the whole time!

And I drove away thinking "I wonder how many people have "apples" right under their noses and just don't know what to do with them."

God is Alive

Vacations are a necessity. How often is it that we give our minds a break from the billion miles per hour they go a day? There's always something. Vacation is a chance for us to catch up on just random things. For example, I read a magazine for the sole benefit of escaping reality. I put my ipod in to just fall asleep to something other than a list of things to do the next day running through my head. I painted my nails to take the time of caring for myself. And I spent time with friends to remember that I don't live this life just for me.

I just got back from a vacation to Gulf Shores, Alabama with 6 other girls. A nice vacation and time to just think.

Just. Think.

And observe.

And witness.

And be.

I took my "dream morning" one morning. And by "dream morning" I mean this is what I would do if I could start every morning like this. I woke up at 7 and took a morning jog on the beach. The sun was rising. Only a small amount of people existed. And the waves seemed to smell fresher than they do a noon. I took my ipod with me and got on my jogging shoes while everyone else was still asleep in the condo and when I got down to the beach I didn't even want my ipod. The world was only following the sound of the morning waves.

As I started running, I didn't even care how fast or how far I was going. And the people I passed every now and then made eye contact and I either got a smile or a "Good Mornin'."

And it was this sense of morning happiness, with the sea air in my lungs, that I wondered...why can't all day be like this? The people. The atmosphere. The ambition. This isn't the world that we live in. The agendas, the hurry, and the strict schedules we're forced to follow. This world was free. God existed in this world.

I felt God in each eye contact, smile, and Good Mornin' I got. And this led me to seek God through the rest of the vacation. Hanging around 7 girls can bring rough waters at times and I felt like God told me, in this world I was jogging in, to look past the quarrels and different personalities and to see that God exists in every person.

And I would like to say I did see Him. Even in times I didn't expect it. In girls I didn't expect to show it in times that they did. Little talks here and there, sharing a song together, a cry or a frustration together, even a story or a simple laugh together. God shines through all those instances in every person and its just up to us to see Him. Even when people are at their worst.

I went back to sleep after my morning run. Mainly because everyone else in the condo was still asleep and I didn't want to wake anyone up that early. But I feel back asleep with a smile on my face because I knew I just experienced a gift. A gift I wouldn't get if I lived on the coast, or went running on the beach everyday like I wished.

A gift to see what it really means when God said he made us in His image.

And that he is still alive.

meg

I'm Tired

I'm tired of these thoughts. Memories. They seem to haunt me. Every time I'm alone they seem to creep up on me. I thought that cutting off this part of my life would help, but it hasn't. This post may be a bit ambiguous but just go with me. Or as warning maybe you should stop. Either way...I'm tired.

I'm tried of remembering the times I felt manipulated. The times I was so blindly controlled and followed in trusting faithfulness. I'm tired of the memories I have of him. Every comment. Every action. Every moment I spent with him out of fear of not.

I'm tired of remembering every flaw he pointed out in me. The vein in the back of my leg, the extra flab on the back of my arms, my inherited lovehandles, the extra weight I might have put on, all of which I obviously knew. All these things have been said to me. How about the times I remember of always having to pay attention to him and if anyone else grabbed it then he made sure I didn't forget about him. This includes the times he made me rub his back, or his sore elbow, or his head. The times he would call me away from something else I enjoyed doing to remember that my devotion was required.

I'm tired of remembering the times that I should have had control. The times I laid in his bed and wanted to get up because I felt the most uncomfortable I've ever felt but I was forced to stay. Or the times I hated being tickled in places that didn't seem ticklish to me. Or the time I went to college and was called out for not "keeping in touch." Who knew one human being could place such shame over another that easy.

But this was ok right? I was led to believe a lie of trust and authority. Why didn't anyone ever teach me that it wasn't? Why did people watch this happen and not warn me? At least tell me that I was this blind? Why couldn't I get out of this sooner??

I hate the times I would open up to someone in confidence and it would get back to him. I hate that he determined how I lived my life, the values I had, the friends I kept or dismissed, the music I listened to, the way my family functioned, the boys I dated, and the approval I sought from him.

I'm tired of taking compliments and laughing them off as he didn't really mean to say that. Or show my uncomfortable laugh as cry for help screaming from the inside out.

I'm tired of agreeing. I'm tired of conforming. I'm tired of remembering.

Man. I'm so tired.

meg

Those Eyes

One time over the summer while I was working at the hospital, I took care of a little old man named Eli. He was probably 80 or so, pretty skinny and really wrinkly. He was dying of cancer. The longest most drawn out kind of all deaths. He had been in and out of the hospital and this was just one of his usual visits since he was going down hill. My job was to ask him all the long medical questions that get asked when you first get there and he pretty much knew the drill since he had been in and out. His wife was helping answer some of the questions and they were joking around the whole time, giving stupid answers to just make me laugh. When I asked if he lived at home with his wife, she said "he better." And when I asked if he used tobacco or alcohol his wife said "not a one...never cussed either. He's been a pastor all his life."

Later on that day I walked into his room once and his whole extended family was in a circle around his bed praying together in tears for Eli.

Eli was so incredibly weak. His little body could barely do anything for himself. His wife was by his side the whole time...I didn't really do anything for him. While I was working through the night, 7pm to 7am, and I was called in to Eli's room because he had to go to the bathroom. Eli liked to sleep naked so I only went into his room when he needed something important (I was warned before hand) So to accomplish this task it took both me and his wife to get his incredibly weak body just a couple inches to the side of the bed.

Me and Eli's wife stood by his side and it was in this moment that the universe all made sense for just a couple of minutes. I put my hand on Eli's bare back, which was so shaky and frail. He looked up at me and his eyes were big and sad. I'll never forget the eye contact we had in this moment. It was 4 in the morning and just single light was on in the corner of the room.

It was in that moment that I looked into those more than physically tired eyes and I felt as if God was looking at me himself. I spent all summer questioning where God could possibly be in the midst of dying cancer patients. Let alone, my role in being placed to help take care of them. I bounced from angry, to frustrated, to sad, to this moment when I felt like God lived in this man and maybe, just maybe, I was taking care of Him.

My very very simple work of just putting my hand on a bare naked, frail dying elderly man seemed incredibly more meaningful than anything else I had ever done in my life. And my perspective changed. My work seemed important when I could see God in those eyes.

I still think about Eli today. Those eyes and that intimate moment might just stay with me forever. I hope so anyways. Or else I'll just be doing meaningless work for the rest of my life. But lately I've been wondering what my "work" will amount to. And really I wish I could just wake up every morning and have Eli beside me so I knew that there was point to the work I fret over, stress about, and get so anxious that I drive myself crazy.

But I thank God for Eli. For being Eli. And hopefully I'll get to meet him again someday.

Meg

Deliver Me. Deliver Us.

You could blame it on the mid-semester slump. Or seasonal/wintertime blues. Maybe it's just going around?? Like the flu? or a cold? It can't be. It seems impossible. But if we took a second to stop and listen in the complete silence, kinda like on a snowy day when you walk outside and just hear the sound of nothing. The streets are silent. The city is quiet. And noise does not exist. I think we could hear a small quiet whispered echo..."Deliver me." It'd be coming from each person who is in the scene. Like on the movies. When you can here the character thinking out loud but no one else in the scene can. It's what I hear anyways.

God. Our hearts are aching. They hurt. And sometimes it just doesn't make sense. How did it get like this? Was there something we could have done to prevent this? Everywhere I look I see hearts aching from a something. A broken relationship, an unhealthy relationship, a distorted view of themselves, a loss of a loved one, a struggle with alcohol/drugs/porn, questions of "Am I good enough?...will I ever be?," thoughts of harming themselves, a battle with depression, and contemplations of simple existence.

We can't take this God!! And we're crying for the sunshine to come. Or maybe spring will bring a breath of fresh air. But that's still awhile away. So what to do before then? Keep on keepin' on? Or just ride it out? Everything happens for a reason? Hope? Believe?

Today I asked myself if this prayer and cry could be answered. And I wondered if God really heard it but yet he keeps us here. All together. In the same cry. But what for? Maybe to heal together? Or learn what healing feels like? Or to fight it out and gain that much more in life after we're past this?

I guess I'll rest on those thoughts for now. A belief that we're all in this hard life together. But my heart is still crying for deliverance. For myself. For us.

meg

Here's My Story

So many of you may know my heart and my love for nursing. I've always wanted to be a nurse actually. I pretended for a couple of years that I wanted to be a teacher just so that me and my best friend Lindsey could have classrooms next to each other and have classroom pets together. (Gotta love those days of middle school)

If you look back in my mom's stash of pictures, there's a picture of me when I'm somewhere around the age of 9 or 10 and it was career day at school and of course, I'm dressed up as a nurse. (Sappy story, I know) But, it's adorable because I'm so tiny and I'm wearing scrubs and I have a fake stethoscope and a clip board (representing a patient's a chart I guess). But ever since then, I've just always dreamed of being a real live nurse who can care for anyone who needs help. Caring for people is my speciality and what better profession. I'm also in love with the human body and just how well it is made. Studying it all at the college level has only emphasized that for me because everything just works so well together! (you get hot.. you sweat, your blood pressure goes down.. your heart starts beating faster to make up for it, you're losing a lot of blood.. your body redirects it away from places that don't need it like kidneys and fingernails for the moment being) Its so cool and it just emphasizes the awe of God planning every single fiber of our beings.

Well here I am. AU Nursing School in the year 2009. It's almost surreal because its like when you're a kid and you imagine that adults are so old and you'll never be one, but then you wake up one day and you can buy alcohol, have your own checking account, and go to bed whenever you want.

So last summer I decided to get more integrated into the actual field of nursing so I applied for an internship at Ball Memorial Hospital. I didn't get to pick exactly, but I ended up on the Oncology Unit. I had no idea what I was getting myself into. It's a unit full of joy and sorrow wrapped up all into one emotional packed feeling of success and failure at the same time. I learned so much over the summer and really began to feel like belonged on the floor as an actual nurse. Patients trust what I have to say to answer their questions and they watch me learn and gain confidence right in front of them. And the thing about cancer patients...they're happy to see a smiling face whether you know a lot about nursing or you're just there to refill their cup of water.

So my heart lies in the Trauma/ER, crisis/disaster field and someday I hope to be there. I dream of having my fingers in some one's gushing artery yelling out orders to GET ME 5 MG OF ATROPINE! AND YOU, I NEED 50 ML D5W STAT! That's my dream anyways. And when I interviewed for my student nurse position my manager, Dani, asked me what I wanted to do when I graduated. And when I told her that this was my dream she told me I wasn't going to necessarily get that on the cancer floor. She said "it's actually a much slower death up here."

In all reality. I love where I'm at right now. Its actually the inspiration for me starting this blog. I wanna write about the experiences I've had and the patients I've encountered. The look I've seen in their eyes and the life lessons I walk out the door and leave at the end of the day with. Some days I just come home and cry because of I try to make sense of it all. Its frustrating to see the value of life ending in front of your very own eyes and something that robs a person from continuing on. Especially when I'm the personality that wants to fix everything so it will just be better. I'm the oldest child of 5 and that's been my whole mission in life. I have 4 little ones to look out for and I would never want them to experience the pain life brings us (I'm not sure I'll be able to be a parent)

"But if we would all just accept how freaking vulnerable we are." A quote from my psychology professor. We gotta be vulnerable in this life and I think we spend our whole lives running away and covering up the most honest truth that we ARE so freaking vulnerable. It hurts to be this vulnerable. But it almost seems like we learn the most when we do open up to true vulnerability. The end of my prof's quote was "we're all just gonna die anyways."

That we are. That we are.
Meg