Insane Ramblings

-Hi everyone!  I know I’ve been slack.  I should never promise to post more because inevitably, it causes the opposite effect.  I end up posting less.

-I finished my last CHAP session.  I’m officially through every single session required which means no more extended weeks of travel, which; though I’ve enjoyed it, I’m relieved to have it all behind me and be home more.

-We have a new family member.  It’s a long sad story but the little chihuahua that we babysat last year has now become a permanent resident.  She’s a brat and a diva but apparantly the cat and dog love her so what are you going to do?  I’m also beginning to think that agreeing to babysit any animal in the town is bad luck to us.  Thank God we’re selective or else we’d have a damn farm.

-I had a fabulous birthday.  Howard took me to see The Lion King in Anchorage and it was amazing.  Dusty and Holly’s family joined us and it was wonderful to share such an incredible experience with people that I dearly love.

-I’m also still singing all the songs.  Are you shocked?  I didn’t think so.

-We are having a weird winter here in the village.  As of today, we still have no snow.  The temps have been dropping into the teens but there’s been no sign of the white stuff.  I’ve lived in Alaska for nearly 7 years (WOW) and this is the first time we’ve yet to have snow by now.  I guess Global Warming has finally made its way to North Country.

-I talked to my memaw yesterday and I love that she can say one thing that makes me belly laugh.  I love that I get my sense of humor from her.  I dearly miss her and cannot wait to see her.

-Oh yeah, we’re going on vacation in a few weeks and there’s a mix of relief but trepidation what with the family drama that’s been going on.  Howard and I are determined to make this a wonderful Thanksgiving holiday though and we’re excited to finally have a real vacation after nearly a year and a half.

-I’ve got to find some way to breathe new life into this blog again.  Somedays I feel like giving up on it and other days I can’t bear to see it disappear.  I have to find a happy medium.  Writing is my best form of therapy and I need to keep honing my skills.

Last but not least, thanks for hanging in there with me.  I pray that I’ll find humor in my life again and that I’ll recognize the moments that are worth sharing with you.  Thanks for your loyalty.

This afternoon, I had to demonstrate a Screening Physical Exam as part of my clinical.  My preceptor and I walked up to the main ward of the hospital and inquired at the nursing station as to what patient might be up for it.

After the nurse contemplated the board with a list of room numbers and names, she made her recommendation.

“Oh this person is probably a good one….he won’t even know you’re doing anything.” she offered with a chuckle.

Though I did agree that it would be an ideal patient to “practice on”, her comment just didn’t sit right with me.  I was about to open my mouth and tell her so when my preceptor chimed in.

“Well, could you please ask him or let him know that we would like to do an exam on him?”

I was immediately grateful to John for asking, grateful that our minds were on the same page.

“Really…he won’t care.” the nurse offered.

“Please do him the courtesy of asking or notifying first.” John retorted

The nurse stammered over her embarassment before leading us to the patient’s room.  As John and I briefed on what we would be going over with the patient, we overheard the nurse asking the patient what we’d asked.  She looked as if her actions seemed a bit silly but it didn’t matter to us.  It was common courtesy.

One of the first things I’d learned in medicine is that hearing is one of the last senses to leave before you die, therefore; ALWAYS be courteous, ALWAYS talk to the patient as if they are listening.  I learned this lesson last summer while on that very same ward.

He was a stroke patient.  He couldn’t speak, he couldn’t respond by squeezing my hands, all of his sensory and motor skills appeared to be gone….until I told him to wiggle his toes and he moved his entire right foot.  Upon asking him to do it again for me, he met my request again.  It was a valuable lesson and I was thankful that I’d paid attention in lecture class.

He was in there….and he could hear me.  He wanted to let me know that he knew.  It was the first of many defining moments.

And so today, our patient was much the same…except his eyes were open.  He lay there completely unmoving and unresponsive.  Even to simple commands to wiggle his toes. 

“Can you squeeze my hands?”

“Can you wiggle your toes?”

“Let me know if this bothers you okay?”

I talked him through the entire exam as if he were able to converse with me.  The fact that he couldn’t communicate through voice or any other sensory skill did not matter.

But.

His eyes followed my every movement.  I would ask him a question and look up at him.  I asked him to blink for me but he could barely do that.  All he could do successfully was watch my every move.  I can’t describe how but just by holding his gaze, I knew when something I did bothered him…when he could feel what I was doing…when he wanted to acknowledge something I told him.

I was deeply moved and overcome with helplessness at the same time.

Reading through his last chart note…the words stared up at me..

“DNR….make comfortable….end of life care….pneumonia…..”

I knew in a few days, he would be gone but I so desperately wanted to change it for him.  I wanted to yell “WAIT!  HE’S HERE!  LET ME FIX HIM SOMEHOW!”

Even knowing full well, I couldn’t.  Knowing that really, his quality of life alone warrants a peaceful departure and it was ultimately his wish.

His eyes, in a way, were telling me..”look kiddo….thank you…but you really can’t help me.”

But his eyes were also courteous and grateful.

As I wrapped up my exam and leaned into his face to thank him and tell him goodbye, he was able to barely lift his head off the pillow while we locked eyes once again.  I brushed his cheek with my hand and nodded my head, sillently telling him..

“I get it, my friend…I get it…thank you for giving me this incredible gift.”

As I wrote up my report later, I fought back tears of joy and heartbreak at the same time.  I thanked God that he gave me the gift of compassion.  That he gave me the drive and motivation to get into medicine this late in life.

Because there is nothing more precious than a person allowing you into their soul.

I’m feeling better, so YAY!  There’s that.

Sometimes I feel like if I’m not progressing in my life….then I’m failing.  I have no idea what I’m failing but that’s what it feels like.

I arrived in Sitka over a week ago for my final Session of training.  It was especially hard to part with Howard this trip.  I miss him.  I miss my animals.  My sleeping has been for shit, naturally.

But.

A big part of me is feeling better since arriving here.  Maybe this was the change I needed.  Knowing that my mind is working toward something once again was what my brain needed to reset itself.

Of course, the Vitamin D and overall healthy living can’t hurt.

Once again, I love my housemates.  I have been so blessed since the beginning.  Sitka has gotten into my soul and while I’m overjoyed at being here, it will be bittersweet to be finished with this portion of my education and knowing that I will not be returning to this gorgeous city.

Nonetheless, I am enjoying every moment, every minute.  I’m drinking things in and burning them into my memory.  It feels damn good.

So, onward and upward….the classes are going well and I’m probably the least neurotic this go round.  Probably because..hey, I’ve made it to the home stretch.  I’m almost done. Fin.

So, thank you guys who emailed, called, and commented.  You continue to amaze me just by showing up everyday and standing by me.  Now, if you could just pray that I pass this session…. (what?  I said “least neurotic”, I didn’t say “not neurotic at all!”)

I need a change ya’ll.  Something is missing.  I’m uninspired, unimpressed, and unmotivated.  I’m full up and spilling over with pent up emotions that run the gamut of anger, sadness, happiness, and Lord knows what else.

I’m weird.  I know.  If you want to stop reading then do so.

I’ve upped my daily intake of Vitamin D, lowered the hormones that made me crazy, and yet I’m still….on the edge of a giant precipice.  Of what?  I have no idea.

I’m unhappy yet happy.  I’m restless yet content.  I’m understood but largely still misunderstood.  People shake their heads in frustration and throw up their hands.  Sometimes I feel like I’m following my head more than my heart.  I sometimes feel like I’m doing what’s right rather than what I’m passionate about.

Sometimes I find myself unapologetically without efforts at anything except that which keeps my head above water.

And there’s a million explanations as to why I feel this way.

Maybe my gypsy soul is restless and I need a change. 

Maybe something else in my life is making me unhappy and I refuse to see it.

Thank God, my marriage is good.  So, there is that.  It is one constant in my life I can be absolutely sure about.

But people I once loved don’t appear the same to me anymore.

Then again, I’m hard to please.  I disappoint and am disappointed easily.  Maybe I set the bar too high.  They too, have their battles.

I’m trying to figure it out and until then….who knows?

Hey guys,  I’m alive!

I’m just checking in to let everyone know that I’m working on some big changes for this little website.  It’s been needing a major overhaul for a while now, design wise and content wise.

Let’s fact it, my posts have had a real somber and sometimes mind numblingly boring tone for some time now.  Granted, I write what I feel but I think I need to put more creative effort into it.  So, I’m working on it.

Stay tuned.

I came home tonight, signed in to my Facebook, and was brought to my knees.

My friend Laura lost her little boy today.  He was due July 31st.  He died in utero and at this very moment, Laura is going through labor to deliver him.

I know Laura because of her sister Melissa.  When she and I became friends, much like our other close friends, her family welcomed me and Howard into their fold.  Melissa’s mom and sister became like our mom and our sister.  And no amount of miles or years has changed that.  When Melissa gives me updates on Sue and Laura, my heart warms with affection because it is like getting an update on my own family.

So hearing this news today has broken my heart.  Howard and I are trying hard to wrap our minds around why this happens to such wonderful people.  I cried while making dinner.  Laura and her husband didn’t deserve this.  Their beautiful son didn’t deserve this.  Melissa deserved to be an aunt for the first time.  Sue deserved to be a “grammy” for the first time.

It’s no news that I too lost my baby very early.

And though I know the loss is just as significant, I cannot imagine carrying a perfectly healthy baby to term and then just before meeting him or her, losing them instead.

How the hell people make it out of this kind of tragedy amazes me. 

I know Laura and her entire family will get through this but I also know that they will be forever changed.  The sun won’t shine quite as bright.  Things that brought easy smiles won’t be so simple anymore.  Everything will be shadowed by this heartshattering tragedy.

We prepare ourselves for death and the natural progression is to hopefully pass on when we’ve lived a good portion of our lives…leaving behind a legacy of children and grandchildren, good friends and family.  It’s still devastating to lose people we love but at least we have memories to carry us through.  We take comfort knowing they at least got a chance at life.

Where are Laura and Vladi’s answers for their Luke?  Where are Melissa’s answers for her nephew?…Sue’s answers for her grandson?..

All I can do is offer comfort for them and prayers because I know that nothing I say will ease the pain of this tremendous loss….and hope and pray that there’s a method to God’s madness.

Happy Birthday Jennifer Ellen!

I hope this day is just fabulous honey girl.  (I sooo love that all of my best girls turn 35 before me!)  We have shared so many good times.  One of these days we’ll get to resume our mischief wholesome fun in the same time zone!

MWAH!

see more Lolcats and funny pictures

Heh.  Last night I almost posted about the week Howard had in Anchorage but I wrote while I was punch drunk and when I went back to proof read it…it said the same things over and over again and really just made no sense.  So I chucked it and I’ll wait until I feel a bit more articulate.

Suffice it to say; while I have defining moments all the time, they are rare for Howard but this past week has changed him.

And it was just a conference he had to attend for his job.

I’m not saying Howard’s not open to life changing experiences because you all know he is…but to walk away from something that could potentially change how you view the world and react to things…well, that’s kind of huge.

I’m in awe of him.  My warrior.

More later.  Enjoy your Saturday!

Dear Pawpaw,

I cannot believe we’re coming up on 10 years since your departure.  This year in particular, the pain from that loss is amplified as if it were mere minutes rather than a decade.

Perhaps it’s because everything that has gone on my life and our family’s life in the past year.

There have been changes.  Sad changes.  I’m thousands of miles away from everyone and I still feel it.

Do you know we’re falling apart without you?

Just tonight, after talking on the phone with Kim, I fought back tears all night and finally cried on the couch, missing you, desperately wanting you to come back and fix us.  You wouldn’t recognize who we’ve become.  We’re all adrift in our grief and we have no idea how to make it back to shore-unified as a family.

I hate that when I look around and see a family, I feel oddly detached.  I find that I can’t relate anymore.  I’ve attempted to make a family with my husband and my in-laws.  Thank God for that.

My friend Dusty lost his beloved grandmother just under a year ago.  He had the type of closeness with her that I had with you.  He misses Elaine horribly and when he asks if it ever gets better, I have to tell him….that the days will be easier to get through but the pain of his loss will always be with him.  He will always want to pick up the phone to call her and share things with her and his heart will always ache because he will never be able to do that again.  I want so much to say “yes…you’ll eventually feel better about it..” but I can’t.  And my heart breaks for him.  I wouldn’t wish this pain on anyone.

I’m amazed at how raw it all feels.  How a family crisis can make all those feelings flood out of my heart.  I am angry that you’re not here.  I’m not angry at you, I know that given a choice, you would have never left us, but I’m mad that God, somehow needed you more than we did.

I see old couples and I feel bitter.  I wanted that for you and memaw.  Memaw visits your grave every single day, even ten years later.  My heart breaks because she feels the loss more than anyone.  I hate seeing her so sad.  I hate seeing her struggle now that you’re not here to protect her.  I know you would be furious at what she’s being forced to go through.

I also know that certain family members wouldn’t DARE the stunts they’ve pulled if you were here. 

I am sad and disheartened because what you intended for her isn’t coming to pass.

And it’s all because you’re no longer here.

Grief has turned some of our family into people we don’t recognize anymore.

I am angry.  I am sad.  I am bitter.  I’m ashamed to admit this because I know it disappoints you.  You would say that I “am better than that.”  In fact, you’d say it about all of us.

And so, I must find a way to put all of that anger, sadness, and bitterness to good use.  Turn it into a passionate cause.  Fight the good fight.

And that’s exactly what I intend to do.

I love you.  I miss you.  I wish you were here.

Love,

Chrissy

About 2 weeks ago, I got a Facebook friend request from my 3rd grade teacher, Mrs. Davis.

“Call me Rita!”  she said in her initial email.

“I hope you don’t mind, but I just can’t bring myself to call you Rita!”  I said in reply.

I was excited to be back in touch with her.  3rd grade was a particularly hard year for me.  My home life was a wreck.  My mom was going through a rough patch.  It was hard for her raising 2 children on her own but unfortunately, we were often the brunt of all of her frustrations.  I forgive her and understand as an adult.

But I still can’t look back at that year and not cringe at the kind of student I was to Mrs. Davis.

Too many times, I remember her having to ask me to get back to work.  I’d be sitting in class in a complete daze.  “Daydreaming” was what she called it.  Rarely did I ever finish my work during the school day.

Homework was a regular task for me.

Mrs. Davis called my mother often for parent-teacher conferences.  Notes were often sent home, my mom disciplined me, Mrs. Davis disciplined me; but it often only yielded temporary results.  I’d do really well for a few weeks then go back to my dark place.

“I don’t understand, Christina, you are so smart….there is no reason you can’t do the work, you’re just not applying yourself.”  Mrs. Davis would gently plead.

And she was right.

I was at the top of my reading group.  When I did my work, I got A’s.  My poor grades were merely a result of incomplete work and my own personal demons that had nothing to do with my intellect.

My mom was often at her wit’s end, which certainly didn’t help matters at home.  One would think it would be incentive to do better, if nothing else, to keep my mother’s temper at bay. 

I don’t remember what I was thinking when I would go into my dazes.  I just remember looking around, watching everything that everyone else was doing and eventually hearing Mrs. Davis tell me to “get back to work!”

It would have been easy for me to buck responsibility and blame the teacher but thankfully, I full acknowledged my behavior.  I miraculously passed 3rd grade in spite of my shortcomings and with each grade thereafter my grades got better and better and Mrs. Davis always kept up on me.  Even through high school.  Her son was in my graduating class.  I’m sure she was relieved when I walked across that podium the year I was actually slated to graduate.

When I went on to college, she was even more relieved.

The years passed and intermittantly, she would get updates from my mom.  They ended up going to church together.  One of her sons actually moved to Alaska as well.

“Mrs. Davis says Hello” my mom often tells me.  And that makes me happy.

I believe that Mrs. Davis saw through what appeared to be an apathetic attitude toward school work.  She saw my situation for what it was and acted on that.  I think that’s why she was also stern but fair with me.  She knew I needed the discipline to stay on task but the compassion so that I didn’t give up on myself.

I always carried that with me.

In fact, I dare say I owe a lot of my later school success to her.  In a lot of ways, I felt like I had to make it up to her.

Now that we’re back in touch, we talk more like friends rather than mentor and student.  She makes fun of grammatical mistakes that she makes (”I’m a retired teacher, I’m so embarassed!”) and I always reassure her that I could care less (”Exactly.  You’re RETIRED! Give yourself a break!”).  Howard often sees me smiling and laughing while bantering with her.

We’ve talked about my childhood and what the real story behind it was.  Nothing of which surprised her.  She speaks as the rational adult and reminds me that my mom really did the best she could but at the same time, she understood why I did what I did during those days.

She also tells me many times how very proud of me both she and my mom are.

I know this deep down and it humbles me.  But it sure doesn’t hurt to hear it too.