I'm starting to understand why people are so scared of being alone; it's because it is effing scary.
Part of me wants to just edit out this part, to wear the proud, independent face that says I was just fine traveling alone; but I've spent all this time talking about honesty and vulnerability so here it is.
In the spirit of full disclosure, I spent the majority of yesterday having a minor anxiety attack - I could feel my heart absolutely pounding out a beat, I kept having to remind myself to breathe deeply, and my neck became incredibly sore just from tension. You know that warm feeling you get in your abdomen and chest when you're scared? Yep. All day.
Twenty minutes was devoted to looking up flights home, ten minutes to writing an email to my mom asking her to remind me that it would be an unwise way to spend $1400. The time change made it hard to find someone at home to talk to, but I was lucky to reach one very optimistic friend who told me gently, but firmly and under no uncertain terms, to get myself out of the apartment.
I stopped for a cafe au lait (like a latte, but way better) and marched myself right over to the Louvre. Holy cow, I had forgotten how impressive that complex is. It used to the home of France's royalty (until Versailles was built) and thus is HUGE.
Because it was a weekend, the place was packed but the tour I went on was made up of about eight people. I made friends with a middle-aged woman from Colorado who was traveling with her husband and we got to talking. She made me feel so much better. The tour was great - not too long but with lots of fun little details and facts - and my new friend (whose name I never learned) gave me a hug at the end and told me that I was going to be just fine and that I'd have a great time. Phew. I needed that.
The walk home was about 45 minutes, and I stopped to pick up some snacks. A bitter-sweet thing I inherited from my mother is that any kind of stress or anxiety causes me to lose my appetite. Completely. I haven't been hungry since landing here and what little I've eaten is just due to knowing that not eating isn't okay. I'm furious because I keep walking past these restaurants and bakeries and cafes and I know the food should look incredible, and yet it just causes my stomach to constrict even tighter. This will pass as I relax and I'll try to make up for lost time. But for last night, I got in just before the rain and curled up in my bed with cookies, yogurt, and a kiwi (healthy, right?) and watched a movie. One more brief moment of anxiety before dropping off to sleep, and this morning came before I knew it.
Today was better - much less anxiety - but I'll talk about that later. I will end with this, however: I'm now starting to understand people's obsession with Paris. What a city!
P.S. - My mom's email response to me was essentially "You can do it. Now take that $1400 you're not going to spend on a flight home and book yourself some tours! It'll go a long way!" I love you, Mama.
Sunday, May 19, 2013
Friday, May 17, 2013
Fly in the ointment
I do this thing right at the very start of every trip where I second guess the whole thing. For a short while, I just know that the whole idea was not a good one and I should have just stayed home where things are familiar - my city, my friends, my routine, my bed. What usually gets me out of this rut is whoever I'm traveling with telling me to buck up and get it together.
Houston, we have a problem. There isn't anyone else here to tell me to suck it up and go out. There is nobody to coax me into a new outfit and out the door, where I'm sure I will remember all the reasons that make this such a great idea.
My flight was a very pleasant one, despite the fact that I was in the middle row. I sat next to a very kind couple (Evangel and Carmi) and they were a treat to talk to. The food was decent, the movie selection was varied, and despite the lack of window or friend's shoulder I got about 3-4 hours of sleep. It certainly didn't feel nine hours long!
Carmi, Evangel, and I all caught the train from the airport to downtown Paris together and fate also allowed that they needed to catch the same metro line as myself, so we did that together too. Then I said goodbye, got off at my stop, headed up into the daylight to text my host so she could come get me from the station and ... failed to send. No worries. Try again. Failed to send. Craaappp. I tried several variations/additions, muttered curses at the phone company who told me this would be just fine, waved off the young guy trying to be "helpful" and made my way into a coffee shop where the nice man called my host and told her where I was. Thank goodness there are kind people in this world.
Anne came and picked me up and brought me the two blocks back to her place, which is adorable. She is obviously an incredibly kind person, and has helped me with a map, given me some suggestions, let me take a nap (my run-of-nights, two-days-of-a-semi-normal-schedule, eight-hour-time-changed body is very confused), and now I'm trying to convince myself to go out. I know (part of me does, anyhow) that once I get out of here and start seeing Paris I'll remember why I came; why I decided that "nobody had the same vacation time as me" wasn't a good enough excuse not to travel.
I know I need to just do it - get up off this bed, grab my jacket (I think it's warmer in Edmonton today .. boo!) and go see something that makes my jaw drop. I'm thinking Notre Dame. Maybe that's just what the doctor ordered.
Houston, we have a problem. There isn't anyone else here to tell me to suck it up and go out. There is nobody to coax me into a new outfit and out the door, where I'm sure I will remember all the reasons that make this such a great idea.
My flight was a very pleasant one, despite the fact that I was in the middle row. I sat next to a very kind couple (Evangel and Carmi) and they were a treat to talk to. The food was decent, the movie selection was varied, and despite the lack of window or friend's shoulder I got about 3-4 hours of sleep. It certainly didn't feel nine hours long!
Carmi, Evangel, and I all caught the train from the airport to downtown Paris together and fate also allowed that they needed to catch the same metro line as myself, so we did that together too. Then I said goodbye, got off at my stop, headed up into the daylight to text my host so she could come get me from the station and ... failed to send. No worries. Try again. Failed to send. Craaappp. I tried several variations/additions, muttered curses at the phone company who told me this would be just fine, waved off the young guy trying to be "helpful" and made my way into a coffee shop where the nice man called my host and told her where I was. Thank goodness there are kind people in this world.
Anne came and picked me up and brought me the two blocks back to her place, which is adorable. She is obviously an incredibly kind person, and has helped me with a map, given me some suggestions, let me take a nap (my run-of-nights, two-days-of-a-semi-normal-schedule, eight-hour-time-changed body is very confused), and now I'm trying to convince myself to go out. I know (part of me does, anyhow) that once I get out of here and start seeing Paris I'll remember why I came; why I decided that "nobody had the same vacation time as me" wasn't a good enough excuse not to travel.
I know I need to just do it - get up off this bed, grab my jacket (I think it's warmer in Edmonton today .. boo!) and go see something that makes my jaw drop. I'm thinking Notre Dame. Maybe that's just what the doctor ordered.
Wednesday, May 15, 2013
This is it
I have gotten some very mixed reviews on my plans to travel to Paris and Rome by myself. Generally I get one of two reactions; Reaction 1: "Wow! That is so exciting and brave! Good for you ... you're going to have an amazing time!" Reaction 2: "Oh. Wow. That sounds a bit scary. I could never do that."
There have definitely been way more Reaction 1s than 2s, which is reassuring. Whether saying it admiringly or worriedly, whenever someone says "I couldn't do that" I want to yell right in their faces, "I'm not sure I can either! That's the whole point!" I think mostly it's the nervous tension I'm feeling that makes me want to yell it - I am scared; really nervous about what this trip will be like - but I really don't feel like there's anything that makes me more capable of this than anyone else I know. If anything, I feel less equipped for this than I think many of my friends would be/are.
Tomorrow is departure day and I still have quite a lot of things to do before then. I'm also nursing a brutal cold that came out of nowhere. Literally, yesterday morning when I got up I was fine. I had a little trouble staying on top of my breathing when I went for a run, but still felt okay when I got home. After an afternoon nap I woke up with a pounding headache, congested sinuses, and that thick, fuzzy feeling that accompanies a bad cold. I've been knocking back the fluids and vitamins and I'm crossing my fingers that I'll have kicked the worst of this by the time I land in Paris in ... 38 hours!
It's strange to admit that the thing that annoys me most about this cold is that I have no appetite. This is the one symptom that I consider to be completely unacceptable in light of where I'm going. I want to eat ALL THE FOOD. I want to want to eat all the food.
We shall see what tomorrow brings, and how I cope with all the independence. I hope to keep a journal to record my thoughts and rants on this coming-of-age trip. I will read some books, stare at beautiful men, savour my wine, taste new foods, feed my soul the food of incredible sights and sounds. I shall embrace the solitude as a friend I don't yet know but plan to love.
Saturday, April 20, 2013
Life is for the Brave
The longer I live the truer I find that to be.
When I live safe, I live small. Life without chances or risks is predictable, and predictable is boring. The times in my life I am the most happy are when I'm gambling a little bit - work, vacation, romance, friendship - they are all high risk, high reward.
I was talking to a friend recently who made the point that I am very guarded in my relationships. Apparently I always follow up a vulnerable snippet of conversation with a joke or sarcasm - something to cover up my moment of openness. I was a little surprised (first, that this was the case and second, that he'd been so perceptive as to pinpoint this behaviour) but as we talked about it I both recognized the habit and was able to account for its origin.
Vulnerability never used to twist my guts the way it does now; I was much more free to share of myself with others. Sure, I got hurt (often, and badly), but the passion and accessibility of being so honest and exposed allowed me to connect very intensely with the people in my life. I didn't feel the need to shield myself with sarcasm or humour because I not only wanted but actively sought close friendships and connections.
That all changed around the time I turned 17. The details are unimportant, but I'm not exaggerating when I say that I got my heart broken (not by a boy) in a way that caused me to need a shell simply to survive. Even though I have learned to cope with and absorb that part of my history, I still feel the need to guard myself from ever experiencing anything even remotely similar.
I can have an abundance of both liking and love for people and then simply let them fade out of my life with minimal regret. After high school I said goodbye to all my friends and currently do not speak to any of them. It's not that we're on bad terms, I just let the friendships go. The same applies to the people from the Bible school I attended for three semesters, camp, past jobs, university, everywhere. There are a few friends who are a core part of me, but most of my friendships are ephemeral. And it truly isn't because I don't like the people or enjoy their company; I really believe it's because I don't let them see past the walls that I wear to keep myself safe.
The risk of connecting so easily and deeply with people is that you'll get hurt, and you do. Often. But, looking back, the potential rewards outweigh the negatives. I remember what it was like to share of myself so easily and openly. I remember what it was like to connect so well and so often. I remember what it was like to really know people, and know that they knew me (the real me) too. I miss it.
I used to think I would get smarter as I got older. This is not always the case. Turns out I have had this all wrong recently, and that I had it totally right as a kid. But the time has come to be brave, to be the me that I was before the walls and the transient relationships, because life is for the brave.
When I live safe, I live small. Life without chances or risks is predictable, and predictable is boring. The times in my life I am the most happy are when I'm gambling a little bit - work, vacation, romance, friendship - they are all high risk, high reward.
I was talking to a friend recently who made the point that I am very guarded in my relationships. Apparently I always follow up a vulnerable snippet of conversation with a joke or sarcasm - something to cover up my moment of openness. I was a little surprised (first, that this was the case and second, that he'd been so perceptive as to pinpoint this behaviour) but as we talked about it I both recognized the habit and was able to account for its origin.
Vulnerability never used to twist my guts the way it does now; I was much more free to share of myself with others. Sure, I got hurt (often, and badly), but the passion and accessibility of being so honest and exposed allowed me to connect very intensely with the people in my life. I didn't feel the need to shield myself with sarcasm or humour because I not only wanted but actively sought close friendships and connections.
That all changed around the time I turned 17. The details are unimportant, but I'm not exaggerating when I say that I got my heart broken (not by a boy) in a way that caused me to need a shell simply to survive. Even though I have learned to cope with and absorb that part of my history, I still feel the need to guard myself from ever experiencing anything even remotely similar.
I can have an abundance of both liking and love for people and then simply let them fade out of my life with minimal regret. After high school I said goodbye to all my friends and currently do not speak to any of them. It's not that we're on bad terms, I just let the friendships go. The same applies to the people from the Bible school I attended for three semesters, camp, past jobs, university, everywhere. There are a few friends who are a core part of me, but most of my friendships are ephemeral. And it truly isn't because I don't like the people or enjoy their company; I really believe it's because I don't let them see past the walls that I wear to keep myself safe.
The risk of connecting so easily and deeply with people is that you'll get hurt, and you do. Often. But, looking back, the potential rewards outweigh the negatives. I remember what it was like to share of myself so easily and openly. I remember what it was like to connect so well and so often. I remember what it was like to really know people, and know that they knew me (the real me) too. I miss it.
I used to think I would get smarter as I got older. This is not always the case. Turns out I have had this all wrong recently, and that I had it totally right as a kid. But the time has come to be brave, to be the me that I was before the walls and the transient relationships, because life is for the brave.
Saturday, April 13, 2013
Solitude is Blessed
This girl is going to Paris in a little under five weeks!! I bought my plane ticket yesterday. I plan on also spending a week in Rome.
Time for a confession: I have been putting my life on hold, avoiding planning the rest of my life, scared that my plans will be incompatible with a man who may never show up. It's so stupid, because I am a feminist and I don't believe that any woman needs a man. Simultaneously I don't think it is stupid because humans need and seek connection and a spouse/partner is, at a base level, simply an intimate friend who is there for the long haul. Regardless, I have been living the line from the song "World Spins Madly On" (by the Weepies): The whole world is moving, and I'm standing still. The time has come to get moving again.
The last two weeks in May will be my only vacation this year and I was telling a friend who knows me very well that I wanted to go somewhere but didn't know anyone else with the same time off. This is the gist of how the conversation went:
Her: So? Go somewhere by yourself.
Me: By myself?! That's very intimidating.
Her: It's so romantic! You could absolutely do it. Where do you want to go? A beach or somewhere more lively?
Me: I don't think I want to go to on a beach vacation by myself ... maybe Paris?
Her: That would be amazing. Aaaaaaamazing! It's excellent timing for such a journey. Also excellent timing for a slightly impulsive decision, I think.
Me: A journey of self discovery.
Time for a confession: I have been putting my life on hold, avoiding planning the rest of my life, scared that my plans will be incompatible with a man who may never show up. It's so stupid, because I am a feminist and I don't believe that any woman needs a man. Simultaneously I don't think it is stupid because humans need and seek connection and a spouse/partner is, at a base level, simply an intimate friend who is there for the long haul. Regardless, I have been living the line from the song "World Spins Madly On" (by the Weepies): The whole world is moving, and I'm standing still. The time has come to get moving again.
Anyone who knows me will tell you that I'm an extrovert, and I am. I love to be around people and that is where I get my energy. Too much time alone usually leaves me exhausted and insecure. Although I am less extroverted than I was as a teenager, I am still dreadful at being alone. I get lost in the ocean of my own thoughts, over thinking every possible detail of every possible reflection in my head.
Yet here I am, committing to two weeks on my own - two weeks to learn to love my own company, to learn to be happy on my own regardless of what else is happening. Two weeks with my thoughts, my books, and my writing. Two weeks sitting alone at cafes, visiting museums and tourist sites by myself, eating in solitude, asking strangers to take photos of just me.
I am scared. I am excited and nervous and anxious and thrilled to have this opportunity. There is a spoken-word poem on YouTube called 'How To Be Alone' and my favourite lines of it summarize what I hope to learn. I'll end with those words.
"But lonely is a freedom that breathes easy and weightless and lonely is healing if you make it ... Because if you're happy in your head then solitude is blessed and alone is okay."
- Tanya Davis
Monday, April 8, 2013
1-Year Anniversary
I cannot believe it.
One year ago I worked my last shift as a student nurse ... TIME FLIES!!! I never used to believe people when they told me a year was a short amount of time. My mistake.
I used to tell people that nursing school isn't something you do, it's something you survive - and I really meant it! It was a long four years full of readings, research, debt, papers, labs, late nights, early mornings, abbreviations, acronyms, hard science, memorization, word-play, philosophical thinking (and writing), self-reflection, bull-shitting, tears, joy, stress, love, and growth. You're taught to think in a brand new way and you learn skills you'll never need anywhere but at work. It spills over into every other area of your life - how you treat yourself and those you know, how you think about the world, how you make decisions - everything. It is hard freaking work and I remember it so clearly.
Yet, it feels like I blinked and a year passed. Although much has changed (new job [hell, a career!], new degree, new designation, new house, new plans, new roommates, new brother-in-law, new car) it feels like so much has stayed the same. Sure, I've grown up a lot in the last year (I had no idea how expensive it is to live!) but I don't really feel like I've moved all that far from where I was a year ago. I don't want to say it was a wasted year, because it wasn't, but I feel like maybe I should have gotten more done.
Perhaps I'm used to viewing a year as such a long period of time, when really the years fly by like credits at the end of the movie - you barely have time to actually even read them. Maybe I need to start looking at things in two-to-three years increments. Or maybe I just need to learn to accept that this is how life goes - flying on past - and all I can do is seize as many moments and catch as many words as I can.
One year ago I worked my last shift as a student nurse ... TIME FLIES!!! I never used to believe people when they told me a year was a short amount of time. My mistake.
I used to tell people that nursing school isn't something you do, it's something you survive - and I really meant it! It was a long four years full of readings, research, debt, papers, labs, late nights, early mornings, abbreviations, acronyms, hard science, memorization, word-play, philosophical thinking (and writing), self-reflection, bull-shitting, tears, joy, stress, love, and growth. You're taught to think in a brand new way and you learn skills you'll never need anywhere but at work. It spills over into every other area of your life - how you treat yourself and those you know, how you think about the world, how you make decisions - everything. It is hard freaking work and I remember it so clearly.
Yet, it feels like I blinked and a year passed. Although much has changed (new job [hell, a career!], new degree, new designation, new house, new plans, new roommates, new brother-in-law, new car) it feels like so much has stayed the same. Sure, I've grown up a lot in the last year (I had no idea how expensive it is to live!) but I don't really feel like I've moved all that far from where I was a year ago. I don't want to say it was a wasted year, because it wasn't, but I feel like maybe I should have gotten more done.
Perhaps I'm used to viewing a year as such a long period of time, when really the years fly by like credits at the end of the movie - you barely have time to actually even read them. Maybe I need to start looking at things in two-to-three years increments. Or maybe I just need to learn to accept that this is how life goes - flying on past - and all I can do is seize as many moments and catch as many words as I can.
Monday, March 25, 2013
High Roller
You're gambling when you decide to walk the pier of trust because if you come to a hole you're going to fall right through. Sometimes it isn't even a hole you can see - it's a patch of weakened walkway that looked safe until it gave away under your feet.
That's the price you pay; the risk you run.
Some lessons are not learned the easy way; growing can be associated with pain. You have to decide that it's worth it - to be vulnerable means you're taking a chance, and sometimes that means taking a fall.
Lesson learned.
Again.
That's the price you pay; the risk you run.
Some lessons are not learned the easy way; growing can be associated with pain. You have to decide that it's worth it - to be vulnerable means you're taking a chance, and sometimes that means taking a fall.
Lesson learned.
Again.
Wednesday, March 13, 2013
A kick in the pants
My best friend is electric. Truly.
We were talking today and I, as per usual, was being crazy and neurotic and she, as per usual, was reading between the lines [she lives far away so many of our conversations are via text messaging]. It is incredible to me that I can say one thing (while meaning something completely different than the actual words I use) and she hears my meaning; she hears what I'm not saying louder than what I do.
She pulled out her usual magic and hit me right between the eyes with some brutal truths that I needed to hear, talked me down, and balanced providing an empathetic and understanding ear with a firm expectation that I will do the right thing. She's almost too good to be true ... basically she's a unicorn.
There are so many things that make her the sensational woman I love so much, but today this is the one I am extra grateful for. I am thankful for a woman who knows me so well, reads me like a large-print book, and tells me the honest truth, even when it's not what I want to hear. I am so blessed to have her in my life.
I love you.
We were talking today and I, as per usual, was being crazy and neurotic and she, as per usual, was reading between the lines [she lives far away so many of our conversations are via text messaging]. It is incredible to me that I can say one thing (while meaning something completely different than the actual words I use) and she hears my meaning; she hears what I'm not saying louder than what I do.
She pulled out her usual magic and hit me right between the eyes with some brutal truths that I needed to hear, talked me down, and balanced providing an empathetic and understanding ear with a firm expectation that I will do the right thing. She's almost too good to be true ... basically she's a unicorn.
There are so many things that make her the sensational woman I love so much, but today this is the one I am extra grateful for. I am thankful for a woman who knows me so well, reads me like a large-print book, and tells me the honest truth, even when it's not what I want to hear. I am so blessed to have her in my life.
I love you.
Sunday, March 10, 2013
Tuesday, February 26, 2013
Friend Therapy
I have the most wonderful roommates.
Yesterday, after I washed dishes while they emptied the dishwasher, we played a round of "How long has this been in the fridge?". We were giggling and joking around the whole time - while cleaning out our fridge, washing dishes, and taking out the garbage!
Today we watched half a movie before realizing we were all just talking over it, so we turned it off and played a couple rounds of Skip-Bo, then had a dance party in our living room. They encouraged me to indulge in some online retail therapy, offered to let me yell and scream or punch a pillow, made me laugh and drink a glass of wine, and sent me off to bed.
I am so thankful for these two incredible woman that I live with. They are stupendous and I don't know what I did to deserve such amazing friends. I love them both so very much.
Yesterday, after I washed dishes while they emptied the dishwasher, we played a round of "How long has this been in the fridge?". We were giggling and joking around the whole time - while cleaning out our fridge, washing dishes, and taking out the garbage!
Today we watched half a movie before realizing we were all just talking over it, so we turned it off and played a couple rounds of Skip-Bo, then had a dance party in our living room. They encouraged me to indulge in some online retail therapy, offered to let me yell and scream or punch a pillow, made me laugh and drink a glass of wine, and sent me off to bed.
I am so thankful for these two incredible woman that I live with. They are stupendous and I don't know what I did to deserve such amazing friends. I love them both so very much.
Monday, February 25, 2013
The Gamble of Shift Work
Sometimes my friends ask me why I sleep so much on my days off. Usually I can prevent myself from laughing in their faces because I understand that they wouldn't be asking if they had any idea.
The only person who truly understand the life of a nurse who works shift work is another nurse who works shift work, but I think there are some things that people should know about my job and why I am so exhausted after just a few days of work:
1) 12 hours is a long time in and of itself. However, I also get up at least 1.5 hours before my shift and rarely get home until an hour after I stop getting paid*. When I get home, I need to wash, change, eat, pack food for the next day, and unwind before crawling into bed. I find it really hard to function on less than a minimum of 6 hours of sleep, so during a run of shifts I basically work and try to prepare for my next shift. And that's it. In addition, I usually find that my first day off is a throwaway because I am sleepy and lethargic, still recovering from work, and I rarely get much done.
2) Sure, I only work about 4 days a week but, as I am clearly completely unproductive anywhere else on my work days, I only have my days off to keep up with everything else: family, friends, cleaning, shopping, cooking, appointments, laundry, world news, and relaxing. I also have to try to catch up on the sleep I missed during my shifts, and that can burn some serious daylight.
3) I work both days and nights. Because of union rules and the way lines work at my job, there are almost no straight days or straight nights positions. This means that we switch between day and night shifts, and those transitions can be brutal. I am not blessed with the ability to just sleep wherever and whenever there is an opportunity for as long as that opportunity lasts. I have to carefully adjust my sleep-schedule to stay on point. If you're on days, you need to be getting up and going to bed early. On nights, you want to stay up excessively late (so late that it's early) so you can sleep well into the afternoon. When I'm not at work, I am trying to either maintain or adjust my sleep-wake cycles for whatever shifts are upcoming.
4) Living in a Northern city means I miss a lot of daylight during a run of shifts. On days, I get up before dawn and might just be lucky enough to catch a few rays as I walk into the hospital and again as I stumble up the steps to my house. On nights, I get up as the sun is setting, go to work and come home in darkness, and then curse the sun forcing its way through my curtains while I'm trying to sleep.
5) My backpack is always heavy. Besides the ID tag, pencils, eraser, black pens, highlighters, calculator, and calipers, I need to make sure I also have hand lotion, lip balm, advil/tylenol (for my own headaches), a book (for breaks or on the off-chance we have a quiet shift), my reference guide (because wikipedia is good but a manual is both reliable and nursing-specific), my phone charger, a sweater, a water bottle, coffee mug, and a lunch bag with breakfast, lunch, and a pre-dinner snack for before I go home (on nights it has supper, a snack, and breakfast). If I didn't work somewhere that they provide our scrubs, I would also need a change of clothes because when you need to change your scrubs, you need to change your scrubs right now!!
6) Although I have to take what my patients say about how they're feeling (nausea/pain/breathing/sensation/etc.) very seriously, I have had to learn to completely ignore how they're feeling. I have been swung at, sworn at, spit on, ignored, threatened, told I'm incompetent/stupid/ugly/loose/etc., yelled at, pinched, and brushed aside. And that's the just the families! (Mostly joking). If I took it all personally they would have to put me in a padded room with an IV drip of Vitamin-P and Zuclopenthixol, but it is still exhausting to cope with.
7) There is this awful thing called The Vacation Planner. Every new nurse hates it. Vacation is doled out to nurses based solely on seniority - we literally have a spreadsheet that lists every single employee on the unit and their start-date, all in descending order. Only 4 nurses can be granted vacation on any given day, and if you haven't been on the unit for more than 8 years you're left with a smattering of days in October, November, or March. Also, you have to put in for 100% of your vacation allotment a full year in advance. Do you know what you'll be doing one year from today? Well, I'm supposed to!
8) The only predictable thing about my job is that it is unpredictable. I never know what kind of patient I'll have, how sick they'll be, if they're going to stay stable or crump, if they'll be cooperative or combative, if they'll even understand English. The plan throughout the shift may change: You'll have a quiet day, nope - you're going to MRI, MRI takes 3 hours instead of 1 and so you're late giving your medications, now you're on call for the O.R., new orders from the doctor, all your orders have changed, all your orders have changed again, it's 2pm and you still haven't had a break, O.R. has been cancelled, your patient is being moved to another hospital, your patient is now staying here, your patient's family is freaking out, etc., etc., and on and on. Predictably, your day is going to be unpredictable.
Working with humans, and so many different kinds of humans from a million backgrounds and areas of knowledge, means there are an infinite number of factors changing every minute of every day. And nurses just have to go with the flow of it - deal with things as they happen, plan as best they can, re-plan when things go wrong or just plain change. It's mentally, physically, and emotionally exhausting. Yet so many of us love it. You get one patient or one family member who says something along the lines of, "Thank you so much for everything you do. You really brightened his/her/my day ... You're a great nurse!" and just like that, all the hair-pulling, pinching, yelling, poop, adjustments, sweat, confusion, tears, and frustration are totally worth it.
It's a high stakes job that keeps your constantly on your toes. Every day is a gamble, and you win some, you lose some. The losing is awful and depleting, but the thrill of the win, or even just the chance of winning, makes it totally worth it. I hate my job and I love my job.
I adore being a nurse and I love my current position, but that's why I sleep so much on my days off.
*Nurses get paid from 0700-1900 or 1900-0700. The next shift starts right at 7 (am or pm) but I have to give them shift report (reason for admission, history, what happened during my shift, plans, concerns, updated orders, etc.) before I can go home. This usually takes approximately 15 minutes (although I have stayed as long as 30 minutes JUST for report), and it is time that I essentially "donate" to the health care system. It may not sound like much, but add up 15 minutes multiplied by every single shift, and it's not just chump change. Essentially, a full time nurse donates about a full 40-hour work week every year, just in report. I know it has to do with our contract and the union and blah, blah, blah but this is a point of frustration for me, if you can't tell. Sigh.
The only person who truly understand the life of a nurse who works shift work is another nurse who works shift work, but I think there are some things that people should know about my job and why I am so exhausted after just a few days of work:
1) 12 hours is a long time in and of itself. However, I also get up at least 1.5 hours before my shift and rarely get home until an hour after I stop getting paid*. When I get home, I need to wash, change, eat, pack food for the next day, and unwind before crawling into bed. I find it really hard to function on less than a minimum of 6 hours of sleep, so during a run of shifts I basically work and try to prepare for my next shift. And that's it. In addition, I usually find that my first day off is a throwaway because I am sleepy and lethargic, still recovering from work, and I rarely get much done.
2) Sure, I only work about 4 days a week but, as I am clearly completely unproductive anywhere else on my work days, I only have my days off to keep up with everything else: family, friends, cleaning, shopping, cooking, appointments, laundry, world news, and relaxing. I also have to try to catch up on the sleep I missed during my shifts, and that can burn some serious daylight.
3) I work both days and nights. Because of union rules and the way lines work at my job, there are almost no straight days or straight nights positions. This means that we switch between day and night shifts, and those transitions can be brutal. I am not blessed with the ability to just sleep wherever and whenever there is an opportunity for as long as that opportunity lasts. I have to carefully adjust my sleep-schedule to stay on point. If you're on days, you need to be getting up and going to bed early. On nights, you want to stay up excessively late (so late that it's early) so you can sleep well into the afternoon. When I'm not at work, I am trying to either maintain or adjust my sleep-wake cycles for whatever shifts are upcoming.
4) Living in a Northern city means I miss a lot of daylight during a run of shifts. On days, I get up before dawn and might just be lucky enough to catch a few rays as I walk into the hospital and again as I stumble up the steps to my house. On nights, I get up as the sun is setting, go to work and come home in darkness, and then curse the sun forcing its way through my curtains while I'm trying to sleep.
5) My backpack is always heavy. Besides the ID tag, pencils, eraser, black pens, highlighters, calculator, and calipers, I need to make sure I also have hand lotion, lip balm, advil/tylenol (for my own headaches), a book (for breaks or on the off-chance we have a quiet shift), my reference guide (because wikipedia is good but a manual is both reliable and nursing-specific), my phone charger, a sweater, a water bottle, coffee mug, and a lunch bag with breakfast, lunch, and a pre-dinner snack for before I go home (on nights it has supper, a snack, and breakfast). If I didn't work somewhere that they provide our scrubs, I would also need a change of clothes because when you need to change your scrubs, you need to change your scrubs right now!!
6) Although I have to take what my patients say about how they're feeling (nausea/pain/breathing/sensation/etc.) very seriously, I have had to learn to completely ignore how they're feeling. I have been swung at, sworn at, spit on, ignored, threatened, told I'm incompetent/stupid/ugly/loose/etc., yelled at, pinched, and brushed aside. And that's the just the families! (Mostly joking). If I took it all personally they would have to put me in a padded room with an IV drip of Vitamin-P and Zuclopenthixol, but it is still exhausting to cope with.
7) There is this awful thing called The Vacation Planner. Every new nurse hates it. Vacation is doled out to nurses based solely on seniority - we literally have a spreadsheet that lists every single employee on the unit and their start-date, all in descending order. Only 4 nurses can be granted vacation on any given day, and if you haven't been on the unit for more than 8 years you're left with a smattering of days in October, November, or March. Also, you have to put in for 100% of your vacation allotment a full year in advance. Do you know what you'll be doing one year from today? Well, I'm supposed to!
8) The only predictable thing about my job is that it is unpredictable. I never know what kind of patient I'll have, how sick they'll be, if they're going to stay stable or crump, if they'll be cooperative or combative, if they'll even understand English. The plan throughout the shift may change: You'll have a quiet day, nope - you're going to MRI, MRI takes 3 hours instead of 1 and so you're late giving your medications, now you're on call for the O.R., new orders from the doctor, all your orders have changed, all your orders have changed again, it's 2pm and you still haven't had a break, O.R. has been cancelled, your patient is being moved to another hospital, your patient is now staying here, your patient's family is freaking out, etc., etc., and on and on. Predictably, your day is going to be unpredictable.
Working with humans, and so many different kinds of humans from a million backgrounds and areas of knowledge, means there are an infinite number of factors changing every minute of every day. And nurses just have to go with the flow of it - deal with things as they happen, plan as best they can, re-plan when things go wrong or just plain change. It's mentally, physically, and emotionally exhausting. Yet so many of us love it. You get one patient or one family member who says something along the lines of, "Thank you so much for everything you do. You really brightened his/her/my day ... You're a great nurse!" and just like that, all the hair-pulling, pinching, yelling, poop, adjustments, sweat, confusion, tears, and frustration are totally worth it.
It's a high stakes job that keeps your constantly on your toes. Every day is a gamble, and you win some, you lose some. The losing is awful and depleting, but the thrill of the win, or even just the chance of winning, makes it totally worth it. I hate my job and I love my job.
I adore being a nurse and I love my current position, but that's why I sleep so much on my days off.
*Nurses get paid from 0700-1900 or 1900-0700. The next shift starts right at 7 (am or pm) but I have to give them shift report (reason for admission, history, what happened during my shift, plans, concerns, updated orders, etc.) before I can go home. This usually takes approximately 15 minutes (although I have stayed as long as 30 minutes JUST for report), and it is time that I essentially "donate" to the health care system. It may not sound like much, but add up 15 minutes multiplied by every single shift, and it's not just chump change. Essentially, a full time nurse donates about a full 40-hour work week every year, just in report. I know it has to do with our contract and the union and blah, blah, blah but this is a point of frustration for me, if you can't tell. Sigh.
Saturday, February 2, 2013
Quotations
I'm going to quote a movie I don't even like very much but that I think states how I'm feeling in quite a succinct way. "You put your head down, and you hustle and hustle, until one day you look up and you don't even know where you are."
I feel like I've said the equivalent of that line many times in the past six months, and I truly mean it. Although it seems to come in waves, lately I have spent quite a lot of time feeling lost in my own life. It seems ludicrous to say so because I have been actively involved in every decision that got me to where I am, but it's almost as if each specific choice was viewed as it's own piece instead of as part of the whole puzzle. Now I'm seeing a completed section of the overall picture and I'm shocked. I don't even know if this is where I want to be, and it's scary to feel like this.
Life doesn't come with a guidebook. "Life" often seems to be about making it up as you go and your job is to learn to live with and love wherever that gets you. But where I am right now isn't anywhere close to where I want to be and there really isn't a set of step-by-step instructions to get me there.
I suppose the upside of this crazy train of thought is that I'm not done, and I can just keep doing until I get somewhere lovable ... the scary thing is which steps are wise and which are false? What move do I make? Where do I even look for direction or inspiration or a plan?
All I know right now is this: right now, I am having a really hard time loving my life (although there are MANY things in my life that I am perfectly in love with) and I feel like I need a direction or a way to move forward. I just don't know how to find that.
Oh, life.
I feel like I've said the equivalent of that line many times in the past six months, and I truly mean it. Although it seems to come in waves, lately I have spent quite a lot of time feeling lost in my own life. It seems ludicrous to say so because I have been actively involved in every decision that got me to where I am, but it's almost as if each specific choice was viewed as it's own piece instead of as part of the whole puzzle. Now I'm seeing a completed section of the overall picture and I'm shocked. I don't even know if this is where I want to be, and it's scary to feel like this.
Life doesn't come with a guidebook. "Life" often seems to be about making it up as you go and your job is to learn to live with and love wherever that gets you. But where I am right now isn't anywhere close to where I want to be and there really isn't a set of step-by-step instructions to get me there.
I suppose the upside of this crazy train of thought is that I'm not done, and I can just keep doing until I get somewhere lovable ... the scary thing is which steps are wise and which are false? What move do I make? Where do I even look for direction or inspiration or a plan?
All I know right now is this: right now, I am having a really hard time loving my life (although there are MANY things in my life that I am perfectly in love with) and I feel like I need a direction or a way to move forward. I just don't know how to find that.
Oh, life.
Wednesday, January 9, 2013
Adventures in living in the real world
Sometimes "bad decisions" are just great stories you're not ready to tell and love.
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