Monday, September 20, 2010
M
It seems that it should be vague and undetectable. Like a hint of something on a soft breeze. A faint whisper, an imagined sound. It isn't covert, it doesn't hide. Like a taste of bitter wine, the inhalation of a pungent flower. It is tangible. It is relentless, consuming, and deceiving. I wrap it around me like a cloak. I cannot elude it. My only escape is sleep, a blissful retreat. I drift off and for a time it is powerless. But as I wake, there is my steadfast friend. I miss you, again.
Sunday, August 1, 2010
My job isn't like yours
My job isn't like yours. I am a nurse. It occurs to me that many people don't understand what that means.
I care about you. You yell at me, you cough on me, you look to me for help, and I am there. You are rude to me, you smile at me, your condition becomes more serious, and I care for you. You cry, you are afraid, you don't understand, and I teach you. Your family demands unattainable tasks of me, I strive harder. You make the same mistakes again and again, you fail to take care of yourself, I serve you. You bleed, you hurt, I treat you. Your wife, your husband, your children, they are scared they may lose you. I hug them; I teach them. You manipulate me, you lie to me, you tell me your story, and I listen to you. I see you. I care about you.
Each and every time I leave my family to take care of you and yours I return to them altered, I'm changed by you. It's what I do. I am a nurse.
Sunday, July 11, 2010
U
It occurs to me that the very act of choosing to be with someone can be a way of choosing who you are even when you are not with them. Isn't it strange? Like two people connecting can emit some kind of a frequency that you get caught up in and before you know it you have built a life on this frequency even if it isn't really the life you wanted. It becomes bigger than you and then you are both living and being this person which is really just a sort of reaction to the person you chose to be with and how they perceive you.
Suddenly, or so it seems, you aren't even you. You aren't even any kind of you that you recognize. And, you definitely aren't proud to be you. Not this you anyway.
It makes me wonder how many different ways I can be. How do you choose? What do you do? Do you keep trying, keep choosing until it "feels right". Yeah, maybe that's it.
Friday, April 30, 2010
I won't forget this
I finally make it down to the water. My legs all rubbery from running the steps from the house to the beach. Everywhere I look is water, beach, rocks, and its beautiful. We have brought fishing poles down to the water for the kids to cast. They are scattered on the sand.
The kids are running around with that excited energy that only kids have. Smiles plastered on their faces. The wind is blowing the trees and the background noise of the leaves rustling in the breeze gives the illusion that we are millions of miles from the daily grind.
The boys are heaving rocks into the water pondering the size of the ripple that each one will create. My boy, his green eyes, not unlike my own. I'm amazed at his beauty, his energy. I'm suddenly impressed with myself, amazed that I had anything to do with this vibrant young person as the gold in his hair is lit up by the evening sun.
The sun is starting to fall from the sky and I can feel it warming me in contrast to the cool breeze.
The girls are climbing the rocks, big and small, slippery from the splash of the lake. There is his girl, her hair wild in the breeze. She is so quietly determined. The sweet smile of a child with wide eyes and inner strength that is unmistakable. She climbs and slips, laughing as her feet fall into the still cold water.
I slip off my shoes letting my feet remember the feel of the sand, cold and grainy. I step back to enjoy the moment. Take a sip of my wine. Its cold and smoky and I can almost imagine the tart and sweet of the grapes it was made from. I smile, I can't help it.
I look over at him. He is untangling a fishing line. His golden girl looking up at him. She is the little star, so confident on stage. But so in need of his attention. She adores him, this I understand. I feel the same way. His hands on the line, moving with a knowing, so capable. He has touched me with those hands so many times. I doubt I will ever tire of it. The feel of his hand in mine.
She casts her newly untangled line. She is proud of herself. He looks down at her and they both smile. I quickly reach for my camera. I snap a shot knowing I won't really be able to capture the moment.
The breeze, the splashing water, the boys. The cacophony is more like a symphony.
To anyone passing by it would seem completely ordinary. Maybe even a nuisance to some with the kids laughing and squealing. I quickly realize that this isn't ordinary; this is something that will be remembered. I get a tingling feeling in my stomach. I can't stop the smile on my face from spreading. This is what happiness is.
Friday, April 23, 2010
Things Lost
There was an accident. That is what they told me. It wasn't my accident but soon I would learn that it would take over my life. It was February 1, and nothing would ever be the same again.
I rushed to the hospital, there in the ER was my mother. It was obvious her situation was bad. I figured out quickly that life was altered, she was altered, things had changed, and things were lost. Lots of things.
I lost the ability to believe that life would all work out. Quickly my world became an exercise in warding off problems as they cropped up. Like playing tennis against those ball machines where the problems get fired at you every 45 seconds. I suck at tennis.
On the second day, I lost a baby. I sat in the hospital at my mothers bedside and began to miscarry. In the days that followed, I shuffled back and forth between my mothers room and the fetal imaging center in the hospital. Each day the heartbeat of the baby I carried slowed. The miscarriage became, in my mind, a metaphor for what was happening in real life. Life was leaving me slowly, minute by minute. I wondered if anyone could tell. I tried not to complain. I didn't want it to be about me. It wasn't.
Eventually, I wasn't pregnant anymore. My mom was still in the hospital. I lost some more things. People were there, they stood by me. They watched. There was nothing they could do. I wondered if they could even understand what it felt like. To lose all these things. Quickly, though, they were lost. Life continued, at least for some.
I lost my hope. No longer did I believe in anything getting better. I lost my faith in community. It became apparent this was a road I was to travel alone. I lost my mother. I lost a baby. I was lost. I lost sleep, how I miss the escape. When I sleep I dream, bad dreams that wake me and take me right back to February 1. I lost safety. I am fearful much of the time. When the phone rings, I panic. A phone call represents a problem, more problems.
I lost a marriage. I don't think it was much of a marriage, anyhow. But still. I lost my youth, my naiveté. I'm certain that if this experience where to leave marks not visible to the naked eye that under black light I would appear scarred and battered. There is no part of me that is untouched by this. No aspect of my life that hasn't lost something. I have lost my sense of connectedness.
Since then I continue to be lost. Not always, but frequently. The problems still come at me daily. Recently I have begun to believe that I have lost my ability to handle them, but I do. They keep coming and I keep swinging my racket.
Not everything is lost, I have family. I have beautiful children. I have a few close friends. Some more willing than others to talk me down when I feel all is lost. One such friend likes to say that she is a "rock and an island". I smile when she says that. I relate to that. Maybe that isn't a bad thing? Rocks are strong, they persevere.
I miss the things that were lost. I miss my mom, my unknown child. I miss feeling carefree. I miss sleep. Many things were lost, and, I miss them all.
Saturday, March 20, 2010
I like my job
Today I met Jack. Jack has Diabetes and came in with an infection in his toe. About to turn 90 in a week, I told him this was quite an accomplishment. "That's nothing", he told me. "I have been married for sixty-eight of those years." He wore the biggest smile when he told me this. His blue eyes twinkled when he smiled.
Jack continued to amaze me all day. He was never rude, demanding, or short tempered with me. I knew he was in a fair amount of discomfort. He didn't complain. He listened to my orders: "elevate your leg, take your pills, and don't bend your arm". He tolerated several intravenous antibiotics, and multiple unwrap and rewrap episodes of his toe. He smiled through the entire process.
Jack and I spent some time discussing the plan for choosing the best antibiotic, the test to determine how severe the infection actually was, and how long he figured he would be in the hospital. All the while he reminded me of his bride of 68 years. He told me she was in a nursing home near his house. "I visit her twice a day, every day", again that smile and those twinkling blue eyes. You still drive? I asked. Yep! Smile and twinkle.
In the afternoon, Jack developed a fever. I came with Tylenol and more instructions. I put Jack in bed, covered him with the sheet. He looked at me with those eyes, "thank you so much, I won't forget you", Jack said. Today, I really love my job.
Tuesday, March 16, 2010
Oh my, isn't it funny? Life. Sometimes its terribly funny. Both a joke and a tragedy. I woke up today and knew that it couldn't possibly be a bad day. I woke up with the most perfect blue sky visible in abstract slashes of blue showing between the slats of the white blinds on the window. I woke up slowly, my body saying it was ready to start the day. No alarms, no ringing phone. I awoke with someone I love. Someone who loves me very much. We shared coffee and oatmeal. It couldn't be a bad day with a start like that.
Many unpleasant tasks awaited me today. I think about these unpleasant things frequently. They have become part of my daily "to do list". When I look at this list that has accumulated in the last three years I realize that it isn't all bad.
People will surprise you sometimes. Small things can make even the most unpleasant task more pleasant. So on this beautiful day I am happy and grateful to the people who have helped in the tiniest ways. The AT&T customer service agent who listened to me cry (literally) last week when I explained to him why my mother won't need her home phone number any more. The pharmacist who continues to disprove every bitter thing I have thought about people in general as he patiently allows me to try another credit card, laughs with me as I tell him it will probably be turned down like the others, and triumphantly announced when he called me back today that "we were successful".
So for all those people out there who have listened, laughed, and made oatmeal. Thank you. I knew it would be a great day.
Thursday, February 4, 2010
Just one is enough
I was thinking of trying this again. I was writing much more last year but I have slowed. I reread much of what was there and deleted it. Not that I regret what was written, just that I feel its time to start anew.
It occurred to me today that if there is just one person that is standing behind you in all that you do, its more than enough. I thought of this as I was driving. Which, it seems that's all I ever do. Anyhow, its a good time to think, reflect.
I'm nearly forty-two years old and I have just recently learned this lesson, learned it for real. I have made a life built on the principle that I am alone. Today I know for a fact that I am not. I was probably never totally alone before. I know that. Its just that now, I know for sure.
That alone feeling had quite a bit to do with me and how I held myself apart from others. For as far back as I can recall I have been afraid of anything that resembled love on any level. I have walked away from friends and lovers because of it. Fear. Such bullshit.
There have been a great number of changes in my life in the last three years. Some tragic and some wonderful. Each of those things has created a path to where I am now. In this fabulous place where I know that no matter what I am up against, when I look back over my shoulder to see if I am facing this villain alone. I see my best friend. The person who laughs at all my jokes, good and bad, who makes me smile, and, who lets me know that as I continue on this path, he is standing behind me.
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