Darn It!

I am so ticked at myself. I just got back from studying for what seems like years, but was really just four hours after an 8 hr day of class, and decided to pull out my new, very cute top that I bought a few weeks ago, and haven't worn yet, to wear to class tomorrow. Well, I was looking around, thought I hung it up, looked in drawers, thought maybe I folded it up, looked everywhere, and couldn't find it. And then it hit me: I think I put it in a bag on the floor a week ago, and in one of my frenzied cleaning ordeals (which hit quite frequently) maybe I threw it out! It was made of a thin material, so if I was throwing away a big bag of random junk, it could have ended up in there. That ticks me off to no end. It wasn't expensive, but it wasn't cheap, either. I'm not going to buy a new one. I'll just have a sulk about it until I go to bed and then get over it. Darn it!
Speaking of funny shirts, I saw a guy today who was wearing a shirt that said, "Hoosier daddy" Haha. He was a young guy, so probs got it from Goodwill or something; I figure that it was made in Indiana? Anyway, it gave me a chuckle.
Also funny, while walking through part of Harlem today, I saw a sign for a realtor specializing in helping young professionals build equity. I remember it because the name was quite striking, and wouldn't necessarily be one I'd choose if I was appealing to professionals. The name of the realty was PHAT Cribs, Inc. I did a double-take. Seriously? Is that really what you wanted to name your company? Are you sure? Really? Ummm....okay.

Switch those last two captions--somehow they got messed up.

4th O'July

Fourth of July fun--we got rained on. I'm not sure where the boys were when we took this pic!




Me and the Brooklyn Bridge...it was a beautiful night.



Me and my buddy Starbs

What I don't know

I don't know what it is like to not have a home. I don't know what it is like to have AIDS and be hungry and sleeping on the street, and looked at as less than human for this. I don't know what it is like to feel useless and hopeless, seeing day turn into night and back into day again, and on, and on, and on, with no change. I live by a homeless shelter, a shelter for @ 300 men, many with mental problems. I walk by this probably three or four times a day, depending on where I am going. There are always a few guys loitering around outside of it; playing music, oogling the girls walking by, smoking. And it is always a toss up whether or not I look one in the eyes when I pass him. If I don't, and he says hi, I feel rude. If I do, then he'll definitely say hi and usually other things too. I've always felt perfectly safe; Columbia does a great job of having police around all of the time, so I am never left feeling vulnerable. But even the fact that I could potentially feel vulnerable and unsafe around these men disturbs me. Why? Why do I feel like this? What if they were a bunch of polished guys wearing business suits, smoking cigars, and talking about stocks? Same people, just looking differently. And I realized how much appearance makes a difference, and how quickly I can judge someone, simply by looking at him. Partially, this is a good thing, I think. One needs to be wise, and experience has shown that bad things can come of being too naive. On the other hand, this a bad thing. It is because I have pigeon-holed a whole group of men, whom I don't know personally, into a stereotypic category, and relate to them as such. Every time I go into Starbucks, there is one homeless man on the street asking someone to buy him a cup of coffee. I should buy him one each time, but I don't. There is another, with two lazy eyes, who always walks back and forth with his headphones on. This morning, when I passed him, I smiled at him and continued on. Later, when I left Starbs to go to the subway, he shouted from two blocks away, "Hey blondie, have a nice day!" I didn't even realize who it was at first. It made me think, you know, so many people walk by these men each day; us students who are so privileged to be here, getting this incredible education. How many of us stop to say hi, to show them dignity and respect, to treat them as human beings rather than invisible, as worthless? How incredibly hard it must be for them, especially as men, to not have a job, not really have anything to do or anywhere to go, to beg for their food, etc. and be at the mercy of the general populace? What unbelievable humiliation. Pride smashed to the ground. And what depression that must foster. Now, someone might say to me, "Stef, you are being too naive. It's all well and good to want to do something, but they got themselves into this position. Plus, if you give them money, they'll just use it to buy drugs. Jesus says to be as wise as serpents." Yes, valid argument, but Jesus also said to be as gentle as doves. Everything inside of me screams as I look around and see this crazy world with so many mixed up ideas, so many many injustices, and so much fear, hatred, depression, and hopelessness. If my two dollars can give a person hope that someone cares for them, someone sees them as a person, as a unique, beautiful, creation that belongs to God and who was created for a purpose, I don't care what he spends it on. I was that homeless person before Jesus saved me. I needed Someone to reach out a hand and pull me up because I couldn't do it. And I take His love and squander it, even now, even still, after all He's done. Who's the bigger fool? The homeless person who buys drugs that will make him happy for a little bit but only leave him emptier than before, or me, who knows what true love and acceptance and life is, and who doesn't extend that to others? Or who throws it back in God's face with my bad attitudes or selfishness or unforgiveness? Easy answer. But this isn't about me. It just hit me so firmly this morning, sitting in Starbs, drinking my green tea. There were two sparrows outside of the window, picking at someone's puke from the night before. Sparrows always always make me think of when Jesus said that He knows when a sparrow falls to the ground, and how much more precious are we than sparrows? He knows the names, the stories, the disappointments, the joys of each life here on earth. He knows the hungers and the sorrows of us all. I am crying in my heart when I write this; I wish that I could help them. I wish that those homeless men could know the love I've been blessed to know my entire life. I wish that they could know that their lives have purpose and worth, not dependent on what they do, but simply because they are them, they are alive, they are human.

Like TPN through an IV Tube, So Are The Days of My Life...

Clinicals are hysterical. I’m with the greatest group of people, and we get along awesomely. So many crazy things have happened already, where to begin?

We do everything in pairs this summer. We are on a colorectal and bariatric floor, but we actually see a little bit of everything, med/surg related. Fun stuff. Last week, my partner and I went in to give a young man a bed bath. As if that wasn’t challenge enough, he was on precautions, so we had to gown and glove up before going in, and couldn’t leave the room just to grab something if we forgot it. That would require another ten minute process of de-gowning and gloving, getting the thing, and re-gowning and gloving. So, we had to be prepared. I hadn’t done a bed bath on an adult in years; I was used to preemies. I’m not sure if my partner had ever done one. So we walk in the room, introduce ourselves, take his vitals, and ask if he wants a bath. Honestly, nothing can make you feel more stupid and incompetent than fumbling around while executing a simple task. Case in point, I was trying to put down one of the side rails on his bed; I tried everything I could think of, and he is sitting there, looking at me, most likely thinking, if this woman can’t get a bedrail down, I don’t think I want her helping me! My partner came around, pushed in the little catch that would release it, and down it went. I was like, “Riiiiiggggghhhhttt”. Uh-huh. I’ll just go ahead and figure out the dosage for your pain meds and anti-seizure meds now. And I bet you’re so glad that you have a nurse doing that who can’t figure out how to work a bedrail.

One of my other clinical mates was telling me about how she went in to take a manual blood pressure on a patient. As she was attempting to do this, a group of doctors and residents walk in and watch her. So of course, she gets super nervous (who wouldn’t?) and puts on the cuff the wrong way. And then inflates it, and tries to get her stethoscope off from around her neck and up to her ears, but it gets caught in her nametag, so she is standing there, fumbling around, nametag-and-stethoscope soup on her chest, with everyone watching her,and a backwards-placed cuff. Hilarious. On our first day a few weeks ago, she took what she thought was Purell and put it on her hands to disinfect as she was walking into a room, and it turned out to be soap. So she is standing there, trying to rub it in, and it just keeps getting frothier and stickier, not disappearing like Purell should. What the heck was going on? Then someone realized she had put soap on. The thing is, she is an incredibly smart person and will be an excellent nurse. But when we are being watched and under pressure to know what we are doing, we all make the stupidest asinine mistakes.

And today, our shoes started squeaking when we walked. Both she and I have identical Danskos, and they’ve been silent thus far. For whatever reason, though, today, they both decided to squeak, and be annoying about it. People could hear us coming probably even if we were walking in from Pennsylvania. Oh, the best part about our uniforms is the totally 80’s vibe they give off. Honestly. 100% polyester, tapered leg, elastic waist, all white shoes and formless scrub top are the ingredients for a totally hot nurse. And by totally hot I mean it literally. Some one could come to me and say, “Stef, how hot is it today?” And I would answer, “You mean in my pants or outside? Because outside it is 85. In my pants its easily 125.” They don’t breathe. And, the tapers at the ankles really make the look. Last week, we got some whistles while walking down the street after clinical to catch our train. Yes, boys, take a good look. You won’t see such stylish scrubs again, I’m sure. We’re the stuff the late 80’s were made of.

But I love it! I am collecting crazy stories about nursing school by the bucketful. And this is just the first summer.

Oh, one more thing. There are some very very good looking young doctors and a very cute murse (not a typo -- male nurse = murse) that we see when we are there. It is very difficult to restrain ourselves from asking them obvious questions just to talk to them. Today, I couldn’t resist. This guy looked like a more grown up, buffer version of Harry Potter with an amazing smile, wearing the white doctor’s coat, no wedding ring. (Yes, I did look. What can I say?) I did have a legitimate question about a slightly hypertensive systolic BP, but I guess I didn’t necessarily have to ask him. I could have asked someone else. But because I am in a program with mostly all women, and very much starved for straight male contact, he was a sitting duck. His helpful and friendly smile cinched it. I ambled over to him, oh so suavely, and said, in a low, throaty voice, “Well hey there Dr. Studly, could I ask you a quick question? What are you doing later? Care to get together and discuss vital signs?” And he took me in his arms and said, "Baby, you're the only vital sign I need! You make my temperature rise and my blood pressure prehypertensive!" And I say, "Dr. Studly, prehypertensive according to Cornell's standard or AMA's? Because AMA says anything above from 120/80 to 140/95 is prehypertensive but Cornell has a slightly different take..." No, just kidding! But I did give him a big smile. What really happened: I walked over to him and excused myself for interrupting him, but was wondering if he could tell me what would cause an abnormally high systolic BP, while the diastolic was still within normal range? Very matter-of-fact, very professional. Little did he know that I thought he was adorable, and would have sat there, talking to him about anything, even the different sizes of sterile gauze, for hours. He was very helpful and kind, and I walked away trying to think of other questions to ask him. I couldn’t think of any. Sigh. A day in the life of a student nurse.

Truth

It's 5:50am and I woke up with all these thoughts in my head that I had to get down before they got lost in the mishmash of the day. I am living in a culture now that is, as my dad puts it, as being out of the frying pan and into the fire. What I mean by that is, I am living in a very in-your-face relativist society. Not to say that I didn't encounter these attitudes in MN, or even in myself every day, but here it seems to just be very much at the fore. Ironically, though, instead of making me question my faith and what I believe, it has served to refine and strengthen it, and really hit home to me the importance of daily time in prayer and in the Word, and just being in God's presence. That is my center, that is my strength. On my own, I get caught up in the mentality and practices of the culture around me, but God is always there, calling to me to come back, and when I do, how sweet it is! His Word is truth, the ultimate Truth. People ask me, 'how do you know this? Isn't it just that you believe that it is truth? And if that works for you, great, but I don't want any part of that. Organized religion has hurt me, they are just a bunch of hypocrites, it's all a sham. I don't hurt anyone, I'm a good person.' Yes, all that has elements of truth to it. Organized religion doesn't save anyone from sin, from themselves, this is true. Jesus does. There are hypocrites in the church. One of them is writing this blog right now. But it's not my hypocrisy and failings that invalidate God's truth; nor would it be living a perfect life (if that were even possible!) that would verify it. Jesus is perfect, and He is what it is all about. The church is full of failures and sinful people. Yup. No argument there. But the church isn't about us. The church is about Jesus. We fail; He redeems our failures and puts them to good use. I don't know how He does this, but He does. The 'I'm a good person' one is a common theme too. I know because this is what I say to myself just after I have done something I know I shouldn't have and feel guilt about it. Like I am trying to justify myself. But to whom? God's laws have been written on our hearts; whether one knows Him or not, they are there. When we say, "I am a good person, I don't hurt anyone", that's not true. We do hurt others. Our selfishness and self-absorption hurts others. Our pride. Our vanity. Our self-seeking. And even if none of these things hurts others, it would hurt ourselves. Since we were all created in God's image, me hurting anyone, myself included, is a big deal. Okay, so the point of all of this. All of these things were floating around in my head, mixed up with left-over dream segments and things I need to know for my Physical Assessment test, but what I heard as the loudest voice was that the Word is truth. Everyone is looking for truth to build their lives on. Some build it on the 'truth' that if I have enough money, enough status, look good enough, I'll be happy and secure. If I don't rock the boat, leave others alone to do their thing, live and let live, I'll be happy and secure. Funnily, these things don't work. It seems like they do, for a time, but they don't. Money can go. Status can go. Looks can go. You can't please everyone. The only truth that stands is the unshakable Truth, the Word. Piper once said (really bad paraphrase following): "Truth without love is too harsh. Love without truth is too wishywashy and milquetoast. You need truth spoken with love."
Or, as Mary Poppins says, "A spoonful of sugar makes the medicine go down". Love is the soft pillow you put your head down on at night, and truth is the blanket that covers you. Put together, you get a good night's sleep! Okay, so apparently I am still thinking about sleeping. I think I said all I had in my head, and it is time to go get a bagel and start the day.

Thoughts from Piper

It's early, I'm tired. Read this in Piper's blog:

The most beautiful confessional statements of God’s providence are found in the Heidelberg Catechism:

What do you mean by the providence of God? (Question 27)

The almighty and everywhere present power of God; whereby, as it were by his hand, he upholds and governs heaven, earth, and all creatures; so that herbs and grass, rain and drought, fruitful and barren years, meat and drink, health and sickness, riches and poverty, yea, and all things come, not by chance, but by his fatherly hand.

What advantage is it to us to know that God has created, and by his providence does still uphold all things? (Question 28)

That we may be patient in adversity; thankful in prosperity; and that in all things, which may hereafter befall us, we place our firm trust in our faithful God and Father, that nothing shall separate us from his love; since all creatures are so in his hand, that without his will they cannot so much as move.

Read, trust, worship, be radical.