First Day Jitters

So I just finished my first week of "work" at my second job. It was every kind of boring I had hoped it would be and then some...

Before I moved home I remember talking to some of the girls at work in Georgia and saying how much I was not looking forward to orientation and being the "new person" all over again. Its very disorientating and even discouraging being on the floor and not knowing where things are and who peoples' names are. But one of the girls made a very valid point, "At least you will never be the new new nurse again." This is true. I have laid my foundation and built up a knowledge base where I feel confident enough in my critical thinking skills to step into a patient's room and do a basic physical assessment regardless of the fact that I don't know how to chart my findings in the computer or use the labeling system to send down my labs or even what the name of my tech is...or I guess I should say "NA"--they're nurse assistants here, and they are not to be confused for respiratory therapists in their hunter green scrubs instead of khaki and eggplant that my eyes have been trained to distinguish nurse aids as.

So tomorrow is my first day on the unit. I have mixed feelings. I'm excited to jump in and see the demographic I'll be working with. I'm excited to meet new people and start making new friendships and relationships. I'm excited to implement better practice techniques and policies. But all over again I am unsure about starting IV's after seeing that they use the same jelcos I couldn't maneuver in GA before they switched. I'm nervous about the computer and the charting system with its 18,000 different screens and navigation tool-bars and progress notes. I'm nervous about meeting new people that don't know me and my crazy, loud, blunt self. And I'm on day shift. Oh god, shoot me now. It was bad enough doing 8 hours of lectures, powerpoints, and guest speakers last week. I could barely keep my eyes open 30 minutes into class time. I cannot emphasize this statement enough: I hate day shift.

But it's only for a period of time, I know that. Soon enough I will be back on my night shifts flying on my own and this whole process will be just a faded memory that I will only draw on every once and a while to give some encouragement or humorous joke in mentoring another new nurse. I can't wait.

Going into tomorrow I have one prayer:
Dear Lord, Please help me tomorrow. Help me make a good impression on my co-workers, my preceptor, my manager. Help my preceptor to teach and guide me. Give her patience to work with me. Help me to do well. Help me make connections and friends, I am so bad at it. Help me care for the patients I will be charged with. Give me the compassion and wisdom as I lay my hands on them. Most of all God, your will be done and may your love and glory be seen through me. Amen.

I've written these two verses on the back of my badge:

In his grace, God has given us different gifts for doing certain things well. So if God has given you the ability prophesy, speak out with as much faith as God has given you. If your gift is serving others, serve them well. if you are a teacher, teach well. If your gift is to encourage others, be encouraging. If it is giving, give generously. If God has given you leadership ability, take the responsibility serious. And if you have a gift for showing kindness to others, do it gladly.

Romans 12:6-8

And whatever you do or say, do it as a representative of the Lord Jesus, giving thanks through him to God the Father.

Colossians 3:17

Grandpa

Some of you may have noticed my random quick visit home in the middle of the week in the middle of October. No, it was not planned. But this sort of thing never is…

I was sitting on my couch. Still in my scrubs, I had just devoured two bowls of cereal while finishing up season one of Downton Abby for a second time. Across my little living room, I heard my phone vibrating on the counter in the kitchen. Caller ID said it was mom but it was not out of the ordinary for her to call in the morning knowing chances are I’m still awake. This morning’s phone call, however, was not one either of us wanted to do.

While I was home in August, I went as many times as I had opportunities to visit with my grandfather. In fact, the very day after I arrived into town I went with my aunt and uncle who were on their way over just as soon as I picked Hannah up from their house. Grandpa was very surprised to see me. He asked how Georgia was treating me, how my job was, even remembered I had gotten a new “set of wheels” as he referred to it. As advanced as his dementia was, he still held onto the lives of his grandchildren like iron clad and I always knew how very proud he was of each of us. He used to point at me to passer-byers and say, “She’s my nurse!” He always greeted my mom, aunt, and late grandma with, “Hiya toots! How’s my girl?” And he always had some off the wall or off-colored story to tell usually from his Navy days.

What was especially heartbreaking were the last few days I had visited him and while in a lucid moment he would ask mom, “take me outta here.” He was not happy, he was suffering. And in His mercy one early Sunday morning, God quickly and gracefully called grandpa home during his sleep.

I can’t help but recognize God’s wisdom in His timing. For my grandma, we were told 4-7 days when the doctors discovered how advance the leukemia was. God gave us the full 7 days with her to realize, adjust, and prepare. God even called us grandkids to her room the night before she fell unconscious for her final days giving us the opportunity to say our goodbyes’.

For my grandfather, we’ve had months, even years to prepare before he was finally placed in hospice care only 3 days prior to that Sunday morning. Yet still, you never are fully ready for the phone call.

So I was not ready to hear my mom’s shaky voice on the other side, or to feel my heart drop knowing instantly what was about to be said as she simply uttered my name into the receiver.

Almost immediately my mind went to getting myself home. Right after thinking how poorly timed this all felt. My last week of work and the last week before moving home permanently.  As everyone would understand my absence, I felt that he was my one grandfather and even if it was just for me, there needed to be closure and I needed to be home with my family.

So Tuesday morning I boarded a plane in Jacksonville and arrived just an hour before the viewing began. Under the reasoning circumstance of my presence there were smiles and hugs at seeing me home again. The first hour of viewing was private, for the grandkids and cousins to see him and say goodbye before the casket was closed to received extended family and friends.  Poor Ryan spent his 22^nd birthday saying goodbye to his grandpa in a strange funeral home. We took him out to B-dubs afterwards to try and lightened the load.

As unemotional as the viewing was in comparison to my grandmother’s 4 years ago, I wasn’t anticipating myself to be a big balling mess for the funeral the following morning. After the services at the funeral home, we processed in line to the nearby cemetery for another ceremony with the color guard. As my grandfather served in the Navy in Cuba, his one request was for a military service. I don’t think any of us expected what was coming especially since nobody knew where to stand or when to walk in. I watched as the Naval officer escorted my Aunt Judy up the steps of the mausoleum as my 4 brothers and 3 cousins carried the flag-draped casket down the aisle in front of them. The playing of taps was performed followed by a silent folding of the flag. But the most somber moment came when you could clearly see the tears in the eyes of the naval representative as he knelt before my aunt and presented her the freshly folded American flag and thanked her for her father’s contribution to his country. In conclusion, the funeral director invited each member in attendance to place our hands on the casket as we got up to leave explaining that our handprint is as unique to us as the lives we live. I quietly sat with my little brother as we watched those seated behind us get up to give their last respects. When it was our turn, I grabbed Ryan’s arm as we approached. Again, I was not prepared for the gravity of the object in front of me and combined with the military service the rush of emotions produced that overtook me. To be honest, I don’t think Ryan was prepared for me either as I tightened my grip on him for steady. Grandpa was at peace and I was happy for him to be freed of this world.

It was right to be home. I know grandpa would want me there. It was a time when my family needed to be complete again, without one missing.

As little as I was, I do still have cloudy memories of grabbing my panda bear and putting on my shiny red coat early in the morning to walk down 12 mile road in front of A&W with my grandpa while my parents prepared the restaurant to open. One of my favorite things to do when I was 2 years old.

As well as summers up north in Cheboygan, MI fishing on the river and riding tractors. Love and miss you grandpa, thanks for the wonderful memories.

Never Say Never

The pile of tomato boxes went untouched for the next two weeks. Monday night after my last night of work I was sitting at the table at SurEste Cantina during my “farewell party” when a co-worker (or now “ex” co-worker) asked me if I had started packing yet. “Nope.” I saved it to the very last minute and probably for the sake of my emotions that may have been the best plan all along. Thank God Tracy excitedly agreed to fly down two days early and help with my move because I don’t think I would have gotten it done in time without her. Or at least I wouldn't have slept any the last two nights still trying to get it all organized before my uncle and dad arrived.

Maybe I’m not giving myself enough credit. I did have most of my clothes (actually, almost all of my clothes) packed, and almost all of my kitchen stuff done. In fact I do recall unpacking a few pots and pans and dry food supplies to make my final meal using up the last chicken breast and some frozen vegetables that I had. But the little things like my refrigerator magnets and the random crap you keep in your junk drawer, bathroom rugs, curtains, and last pieces of mail still needed to be packed away. It’s little things that don’t automatically have a place or category that will drive my selectively OCD brain insane!

The few articles of clothing I had left to pack

Because I had run out tomato boxes and packing had subsequently come to a standstill and because I finally got a member of my family to visit me in the South, we decided to take advantage of my last day in V-town and go out to see the sights. Tracy and I classically started out our day with lunch at Chick-fil-a and then I took her to the downtown area full of boutique shops and antique stores. After scoring some cute TOMS and a couple antique finds, I fulfilled her dream of seeing a Hobby Lobby. Then it was to the mall (or “small”) and one last meal at my favorite restaurant, Masatos. By the end of the night, our feet hurt but I was really happy to have Tracy with me. It helped keep my mind off of what was coming and I can look back and think how much I really enjoyed my last day in Valdosta, Georgia.

November 2^nd, we woke up bright and early as I wasted no time throwing final loads in the washing machine, taking curtains and rods down in the bedroom, packing up my toiletries, and preparing for my dad and uncle’s arrival. Right on schedule I had a knock on my door shortly after 11 am and my apartment exploded again with empty tomato boxes.  After giving the boys directions to the designated U-hal pick up site, Tracy and I got right back to work filling up 9 of the 10 boxes dad brought with him. Saving the original boxes turned out to be a life-saver as I re-packed my TV, blu-ray, even my oddly-shaped spice rack. Tracy kept saying how smart I was with my packing and how organized I was with the boxes. By the time they got back with the U-hal trailer, we were pretty much ready to start fillin’ her up.

My chariot!

This side of the room was originally my pile of "stuff going into storage"

And this side originally was my pile of "stuff going into the house"

We had about 4 or 5 bags of trash to take out

Naturally I had my moments. I saved them and a few tears for when I was by myself in my living room in-between walking boxes out when I could discreetly wipe the tears away. My uncle, however, was far too intuitive then I gave him credit for. In one quick moment he comforted and reminded me of all the support I had waiting for me back home. I was very thankful to have him there with us to help pack the U-hal. You could tell he had done this a time or two. By the end of the trip though, you could also tell that him and my dad also bonded a little too well!

Just takin' a quick break

Nah, we really don't have time for that

Really we were getting the couch in.

It was way heavier than it looked.

Thumbs up! My trusty encourager!

Beginning piles...

Bigger piles. Tracy still thumbs up!
My "two separate pile" concept didn't really matter in the end.
The shit just went where it fit.

Almost all out

Just before 3 pm  the pile in my living room that I could have been convinced was not growing any smaller became completely empty and after a short-lived tantrum at the broom, everything was packed away (including the broom) and we were rolling out of the complex. I quickly turned in my keys to the leasing office and we were pointed in the direction of I-75. I appeased dad and followed behind the U-hal going anywhere between 55 and 75 mph. If you know me, you know how much of a challenge this was! 

Annnnd we're off! Our view for the next 6 hours...

This was actually a comfortable position...for about 2 minutes.

Riding buds!

The guitar that Tracy almost flung against the concrete.
At some point it shifted and began to rattle against something driving Tracy mad.

We got as far as Dalton, GA which was my usual stop when I traveled this route by myself. What usually takes me 4 hours to cover took us 6. Not too shabby, considering. The next day the boys left earlier than Tracy and I giving us the freedom to wake up at our pace and, possibly more importantly for me, drive at our own pace. We met up with them in Richmond, KY for lunch and thankfully they said we didn't have to follow them the rest of the way home. It was smooth sailing till right after crossing the Michigan state line when we ran into a parking lot.

What we thought was her infamous construction traffic was really the tail end of a semi-truck accident . Leave it to Larry to point out that we go over 900 miles of driving without a single traffic jam, then cross the state line and BOOM. Larry said we should change the welcome sign to, “Welcome to Michigan, Pure Orange.” Finally after nearly 11 hours of driving, Tracy and I pulled into my parent’s driveway only about 45 minutes ahead of the boys.

Greeting my mom again I said, “I hope you’re okay with your living room exploding with all my stuff!” Sunday we packed the storage locker Randy and I are sharing. I should probably just pay him the entire rent because at least 80% of the square footage is now occupied by my crap. It was like packing the U-hal all over again. Again, I’m so thankful we had my uncle to help us. Speaking of square footage, we used every possible inch of space we had, vertical just as much as horizontal! It still wasn't enough as I made a mildly panicked phone call to Tracy asking if she was sure she didn't want any furniture knowing that my cheap Wal-Mart pieces were not going to make it into storage.

Naynay invasion!

Nothing moved...wonder why.

This was my "Dear God Don't Lose Me" box.
Very important stuff to start my new job with inside. And it wasn't lost! In fact, nothing was.

 Once all of that was settled and stored, it was just my room that was left to move back into. Unpacking my clothes was easy but at one point I just sat down in the back of my closet trying to process all the other random stuff to find a place for. I just don’t want the clutter. I find it extremely easy to part with things I've held onto for so long. Maybe I just have new things to hold onto now. Like my big black clock or my antique-find wreath.

Part of me quietly misses the South. This week would be my normal work week. I miss my charge nurse, I miss my co-workers, and yes, it’s not difficult to say in this 40 degree weather that I miss the heat. Mom said, “Who’s to say you won’t ever be back?” I was the same girl that said I was never moving away from home. Guess I've learned, “never say never.”

packing...

I think packing has become something I’m avoiding. The pile of tomato boxes in the corner was created the day I arrived back from my “sabbatical” as I’ve been calling it, and hasn’t been touched since. And I seem to keep buying food as if I can freeze it forever. I guess that once I begin packing, that’s it; my little world here is officially over. Even though it was over months ago but the action of packing it all up marks it into reality. It’s not like I haven't done this thing before. But I was in love that time. And love can make anything look hopeful and bright. Perhaps that’s the rub.

In continuing to mark my move into the emanate future, I just finished my second to last scheduled week “on” at SGMC. Only one more week left…14 days and I turn my badge in. I will miss my job here very much. For lack of a better term, it’s going to suck walking away from what I feel like has been the best arrangement: A manager that is so approachable it’s ridiculous, 7 on/7 off scheduling, which really is not as bad as it sounds especially when you work nights, a wonderful charge nurse who has shaped me in ways she probably will never know, and coworkers who have become friends which for me, takes a while to break that wall down. It feels like just as soon as I settled into a comfortable position, I’m uprooting it all to start over as the “new girl” again. Funny thing is, it’s been mentioned before how completely opposite I am now from when I first started on the floor. I was quite, kept to myself, and did my work. No one really knew what to do with me. Until I was comfortable with the environment and the people did I come out of my shell. And probably a good dose of irritation with the ER helped move things along also. Now my loud mouth can be heard from all angles of the hallway. 

Just in the past few months I’ve seen myself grow in my career and have found that I’ve been labeled by my peers as one of the “good ones.” As I was walking into work last Friday for a 3-11 shift (a shift I avoid as much as I do days) the thought crossed my mind, “oh lord, watch I get up there and they pull me to 4 west to charge. Wouldn’t that suck?” I must have jinxed myself because when I came out of the conference room to see my assignment there stood my manager, Ms Chrissi and the oncoming charge nurse making out the assignment. Ms. Chrissi looked at me apologetically and said, “Renay you’re being pulled to 4 west to charge. They requested you because they said you charge so well.” Its not the first time they’ve told me I do a good job of it but it always stops me a moment to process the statement. I just do what I see my own charge nurse do, Ms. Kay, and also probably a good part of it from working at the dub for so many years. A few nights later in report an older nurse asked me what a syndrome was that a patient had. When I said I didn’t know she jokingly said, “You’re suppose to know everything! You have that aura about you!” Even the brand new nurses that staff 4 west and don’t know me that well remark on how much they enjoy working under me as their charge nurse. I can only have faith that I will carry this character and confidence into my new job. Unlike when I started 18 months ago and had been out of a hospital setting for nearly a year, I know how to do an assessment, I know how to prime a piggyback, and I’m becoming pretty kick-ass at starting IV’s. So it should just be down to learning the unit floor plan, the computer charting process, people’s names, and doctor’s temperaments, right? But I can’t help thinking the “what-if’s” and the “will I be accepted by my new co-workers?” This must sound so much like switching schools as a teenager. 

Last night I was asked, “Are you excited to leave?” I automatically replied, “Yea.” I can’t tell yet if that was a lie or the truth.

18 days to move out day…I'll start packing tomorrow...maybe Wednesday...

fresh perspective

I got a job, bought a car, signed a lease on my very first place, successfully made my first batch of fudge...in a pot that is not my mom's ancient green avocado pot, cut down my first Christmas tree, tried some new recipes. Saved some, nix'd some. Learned how to buy my own groceries, always knew how much I hated grocery shopping. Lost my beloved first car, bought another car, realized how challenging my job is, realized how much I love my job.

Like turning the page at the end of a chapter or closing the cover at the end of a book, I've put my first blog on the shelf. Every now and then I may privately visit those memories but for now I'm aware enough to know that my heart is still raw and emotions still fresh that the best place for those moments is up on the shelf right where I know they are.

So it is with a fresh perspective that I start a new blog. Funny enough, my mom, the former nurse herself, said I missed my calling when I stopped writing.

So five more weeks. That's all I have left in this chapter of my life. I'll move beyond my first job, my first place, my first big adventures. And I know I will miss it. Perhaps not as much as I may think. Or perhaps it will take me by surprise and I will collapse in tears on the couch like I did the first week I was home in August when all of the busyness I created ceased and my world imploded. At least mom was there to tell me it was normal. A luxury I had been lacking in.

It was not my first choice to move back in with my parents. You make that first independent move out of the proverbial nest with all the intentions of not flying back into it. But I'm blessed enough to have parents without question lovingly take me back in. And an abundant family that will without estranged looks or awkwardness wrap and rally their support around me. Besides, I'm just following the Streetman trend by moving back in. Also, I would really like to try the whole living debt-free and wealth-building life-style Dave Ramsey speaks of as a very real possibility. The proverb is basically drilled into my head, "The borrower is slave to the lender." I need to get my feet back on solid ground, I've been swimming in fluidity for far too long.

As much as I know I will miss parts of my life now, I'm excited for my new adventure. I'm excited about looking for my own place near my hometown on my own time, about starting my new job in a new hospital, meeting new people, starting over (for the most part, I know I'm still going to have to explain why I was in Georgia), gaining more experience and continuing to seek God's Will for my life and navigating the desires that He places in me.

I cannot say I know why the last 18 months occurred in the way that they did for an end that seems like it was "all for nothing." I cannot say I know what God's purpose was in moving me away from my family, why I wasn't home to support my mom, help my dad, enjoy Hannah's first year of life, see any of Ben's baseball games or Megan's gymnastics. Facebook and Skype simply cannot substitute. But I know there are some things we may never understand, and who are we to ask God, the creator of the universe, who knows us completely, what His reasoning are? His understanding surpasses our small human minds. Through this all I can still see where he has been faithful to me and is still carrying me through. I can hear His voice quietly whispering, "Stop worrying, stop seeking, I'm taking care of you."

October will be both a slow and a fast moving month for me (no pun intended). I'm going to try to savor every moment of the good times, and forget the ones I don't care to remember. As I thought about a title for this blog, I contemplated just keeping my old one but I felt there needed to be a separation. The theme of a heart kept coming back to me and being a nurse, I deal with matters of the heart all the time, emotional just as much as physical. So I settled on a title as I crossed the Georgia state line driving back in this week. I recognized a sense of happiness to be back and realized that even after I move back to Michigan, I feel a part of my heart will always be in the South.