Ramblings in another city August 25, 2008

This is from the back of a notebook. I was jotting down thoughts while in another city, far from home.

“All the way back I remember…party in the 6th grade. Paige walking out to the pool. I sang Patsy Cline by the diving board. It was my isolation from the fun inside.  But I felt melancholic. At such a young age. But this is what I do. I isolate myself. I always have in some way.

I vibrantly jump into a new school, job, situation, etc. and bounce to each person with introductions and smiles. I know them all before they know each other. Before they decide which clique to join. Which people to shun.

The first weeks (sometimes months) they are glad for my presence. I’m there with a smile and a kind word. But they eventually conform, if that’s the proper word for it. And once hierarchy establishes their place, mine is forgotten. I’m released back into whatever pool or stream to which fish like me belong.

I endure the rejection, sadness, anger, frustration, and confusion of it over and over – with nearly everyone I meet. Is it me? I always wonder. I know it must be, for better or worse. But I’m a good person. I withdraw further into myself to avoid further discomfort. My personal disaster plan. And despite the queries to others and within myself…regardless of professional training – no one can tell me truly what I must do to connect. They don’t care about me. They don’t care. Shouldn’t we?”

Defenseless August 22, 2008

In this program, in my clinicals, I am not supposed to defend myself. I am not supposed to defend my actions…unless asked. When a preceptor tells me I am doing something wrong and to do it “his” way, I am happy to do that. I also try to explain the reason I was performing the action in such a way. I want to provide a rationale, if you will.

Well.

Apparently that is considered “negative” and that I don’t take criticism or direction. HUH? But. I. We are supposed to just say, “thank you” and move on. I. Uh. What?! THE? FUCK!!!! I really don’t mean any harm by explaining myself. I guess I explain my actions because I don’t want them to think I’m stupid. Or maybe I’m just filling the air with words to fill the moment? What? I have no idea how to communicate with people. Clearly the title of my previous post rings true. I don’t even REALIZE when I am miscommunicating. I just try to talk about what seems relevant. IF I HAD IT MY WAY I WOULD STOP TALKING TO PEOPLE COMPLETELY BECAUSE I AM SO FUCKING SICK AND SO GODDAMNED TIRED OF BEING MISUNDERSTOOD.

How do I know I was misunderstood? We have these lovely evaluations – I just read the one he wrote. It was like, “good, good, good, good, BAD, good good, see comments.” Shit y’all. I feel like I am a good person. I want to be liked. I LIKE people. But then they don’t think I’m nice – or think I can’t take criticism – and then I fucking cry because I tried so hard to be superstudent and fell short. Ugh.

I wish I could be less sensitive.

My Chinese is better than I thought August 20, 2008

Or maybe I am autistic or have asperger’s syndrome. *violent sigh*

I am so tired of people misunderstanding me. What I write. What I say. It seems so clear when I expel it into the world, and then it gets all jumbled when others receive it. Makes me want to hole up and not say a word but to myself.

 

I had a horrible dream last night. Nightmare. In it my mom died of stomach cancer. One minute she was diagnosed and the next she was gone. It was awful. Especially the realistic touches that my memory contributed, drawing thoughts from my recent visit home. I don’t think you can imagine how awful it is to lose a parent until you have lost one. At least, I can’t. Couldn’t. But my nightmare was vivid enough to help me realize what a mess I truly will be. And trying to cope with my dad losing my mom…that will be chaos at best.

I wonder sometimes – maybe it’s morbid – but I wonder which scenario would be better – mom or dad dying first. I guess those are normal thoughts…worrying about my parents, who are two of the kindest, most incredible people in this world. I don’t want to see either one hurting. Some parts of the future really suck. Sure, I want to graduate in a few years. But I don’t want time to pass for mom and dad. I want it to backtrack.

I miss the times we vacationed together. I miss mom’s richly colored hair, though it is beautiful as it has whitened with time. I miss dad’s confidence and athleticism. He seems so lost since retiring, and despite our encouragement he won’t work part time. I miss Light Brite, our 45″ player that was in the hallway with Hi Ho Cherry-O and Parcheesi.

I miss being tucked in at night. ”Sweet dreams dolly.” Hugs. The endless positive reinforcement and unconditional love. Enough to make me gag back then, but so wonderful to look back on. I miss stories in the hallway and sleeping bags by the fireplace when we lost power in rain or snow. I miss magical Christmases. I try to recreate them when I’m home, but we’ve lost something. Like no matter how I try, it ends up just being another day.

I miss having time.

I miss having time with my parents and my sister and our pets and the swimming pool. I miss my dad’s obsession with humongous speakers. ”Oh Sherry” and “No One is to Blame” on hot summer days, blaring as we swam. Steve Winwood’s “Bring me a higher love” when it was new. We danced and danced in their room.

I miss baking cookies with mom. Tickle wars when dad would finally get home from work. Or if we were asleep he’d sneak in and give us a kiss on the forehead. We could always tell. A telltale cigarette lighter or pen would appear on the carpet near my bed, having fallen from the breastpocket of his scrubs.

Waving and blowing kisses to daddy as he left for work so very early in the mornings. Or on his few days off joining him to watch Abbott and Costello or football on the couch. Football on tv still lulls me to sleep like a baby.

I can’t say that I had an easy time growing up. I remember these wonderful parts because they are what kept me alive. But I was so depressed early on from being the “uglier” of the two of us. You rode the bus and got dates, I rode the bus and was laughed at for blackheads, for my glasses, for having a crush. It shouldn’t have been that way. I was the older one. But it was that way. They told us we were both beautiful. I believed it for a little while. But moms and dads have to say that, to try a little kindness that the world won’t supply.

I loved dancing. I used to dance every day and now not at all. With friends over we would make up routines. We had costumes. So inventive and carefree. But middle school arrived and dance team rejected me. And rejected me again the next year. And again. And again in high school. I wanted it more than anything at that time. I cried my soul onto the floor of that gym. My heart broke, as I’m sure so many others must have. Especially when my best friend made the team. And then my sister. My sister who didn’t even like to dance that much. Maybe it was my large breasts. Maybe I wasn’t pretty enough. I could dance. I could dance. But they made me believe I wasn’t good enough. And I was damaged for so many years from that. I hated that bitch librarian that participated in the judging. I am scarred still. But it is further away from me now. Thank god for time passing.

The only relief for awful memories seems to be allowing the passage of time between their occurrence and the survival of those events. The pain doesn’t go away. It just becomes hidden under newer, more relevant pain.

So much trouble I’ve had living through this life. Things that may seem small to another but were landslides to me. We are all so different though. And I’ve done the best I could to overcome. But at the end of it all I won’t be sad. Life is so hard. Surviving is so hard. And there is no reason in it. No fairness. No grand reward for being a good person. I can’t give up, though. I just keep hoping it gets better from here.

So I’ll stop this for now. And return to my studies for tonight. Again I am off-topic. But I must’ve needed it. So many thoughts but so little room in my brain  to think them anymore.

And it was a good day August 18, 2008

Thank goodness. I’m relieved to be closing my first day back from a couple of weeks away from clinicals.

I’m so tired. I worked hard! Woke up at 4am. Quick shower. Quick breakfast. Hello to the kitties. Toothbrushing done and scrubs on. Out the door and car in reverse…realize my badge isn’t with me. Rush up to the door & unlock frantically, search in the places it SHOULD be, find it under the couch (thanks kitties!).  Bust down the stairs and back to the car, hoping to reach the hospital before 530am.

Room setup is slow business for me. Despite how much I try to hurry, I always keep a steady pace. I think it’s my own way of preventing mishaps. I’d rather be slow than to mislabel something critical, like a paralytic labeled as an analgesic. That would be bad for my career.

Crap time with my first case. I was supposed to place a spinal, but since the surgeon forgot to order the antibiotic we  couldn’t take the pt to the room till after our planned time, leading to a delayed start. The anesthesiologist quickly placed the block as I looked on. Ah well. Observation is still a learning experience.

Good intubation with the second case. Third case I chose the wrong blade because I was rushing, and though I could’ve landed the tube with a blade change, the -ologist wasn’t in the mood to wait on me. *sigh*

We finished early today. Noon. But they’re so slow to address our assignments each day. I waited around till 4pm to find out what cases I’d have tomorrow. Can you believe it? 4 hours of waiting. I could’ve had a nap. Or SOMETHING.

Now it’s bedtime so I will have some wits about myself tomorrow morning when I again fall out of bed at 4am and pry my eyes open long enough to drive to the hospital and make it to the coffee pot.

Such is the life of a student. Here’s hoping for a good Tuesday.

Dr. Horrible August 17, 2008

If you haven’t seen the beautiful musical web short by Joss Whedon you really must. Beautiful. Three main actors. Two awesome voices. Fantastic songs and harmonization. Wow. I love it.

See it in its entirity at fancast.com (http://www.fancast.com/tv/Dr.-Horribles-Sing-Along-Blog/101392/808106036/Dr.-Horribles-Sing-Along-Blog/videos?autoPlay=false&cmpid=FCST_votd_dr_horrible)

Not ready to return August 16, 2008

I don’t want to return to college town. I don’t want to get back to school, to clinicals, to vicious competition, to overeating, to sleep deprivation. I want to stay here in the safety of my parents’ home. I need a few more weeks of relaxation. If only my profs were willing to negotiate for a later start date for fall term. *sigh*

I head back tomorrow morning. I’m not keen on flying again. The past few experiences – regardless of the carrier – have included flight cancellations, long delays, rerouting, and even sick flight attendants causing more delays. Note how all of the businesses grow less impressive as the years pass? It’s not only my opinion. It’s visible all over the world.

These companies are scraping to save by cutting corners, which is understandable since their goal is to make a profit. They are cutting the wrong corners though. Poor customer service, inadequate staffing, overbooking, and the biggest problem seems to be staffing with people who are not willing to do their jobs. Recent reports that indicate a lack of compliance with maintenance checks on aircrafts means that people aren’t doing what they were hired to do. Right?

Look at the FDA and all of the products from China that contain lead. Now, during shopping trips if I want a vase (for example) and I see that it’s from China, the comment is “It’s really pretty. But don’t lick it!” Yes, I laugh because every product I pick up that states, “Made in China” is now fodder for jokes. But it really isn’t funny.

Consider the customer service industry – remember when the biggest problem was waiting on hold for 4 minutes? Now the issues include waiting on hold for 15 minutes AFTER wading through the automated portion – hoping that if it is voice commanded that it will understand my southern drawl - and then finally reaching someone from India calling himself “Mark” or “Zac” to sound more American. I don’t feel relieved when I finally reach a person. I feel stressed!!! That isn’t the way it ought to be. I should not need to worry whether Zac can understand what I mean. Is his English strong enough to understand the issues I’m experiencing with whatever the product may be? I have to speak more slowly, pay close attention to avoiding slang or regional verbage, and hope that Zac has more knowledge about the product than that which is provided to me in the instruction booklet. It is absurd.

The McDonalds a few blocks down from where I live in the suburbs is our “Mexican” McDonalds. I recall when teenagers were able to find summer jobs at fast food restaurants. Interesting that illegal immigrants are breaking the law, receiving free heathcare, lobbying for free college education, and making summer jobs a more difficult acquisition for law-abiding teenagers. There’s something very wrong with this country.

Of course, these are all opinions. I wouldn’t claim to be an expert on any of these topics. But I am frustrated by what I see around me. Why have children in a world like this…which has only grown more complicated and dangerous in my 30 yrs of life? A new president or a different political party will not solve these issues. I truly don’t know what will. Ugh. I’m done with writing for now, as I drifted far off-topic and into things that upset me. Plus, my tummy is growling. Now that it’s back to normal I think I’ll have some brunch.

Post-nap and TiVo’d gymnastics August 15, 2008

I look forward to the Olympics gymnastics competitions. It’s a pity that this year I’ve been too busy to enjoy them. I’m watching the bits that my TiVo captured, but it isn’t quite the same. I don’t mean to sound ungrateful, because at least I am able to see some of it! But I missed the team events completely, so I’m left with men’s individual competition. Harumph. It’s still interesting. One more gripe…whatever happened to the scores from each country’s judge being shown on the tv? And why do the commentators talk incessently? It’s so annoying. Shuuuut up and just speak if the gymnast is doing something in the routine that requires a description.

The nap helped a bit with the way I’m feeling. But I’m definitely suffering from a virus. I have felt this way before, in Feb of this year I think. Achey muscles, heart racing when I reach the top of one flight of stairs, unable to tolerate much food even though I feel hunger, not digesting my food as quickly as usual. It’s yucky. I want to get up and do things! This is my one week off from school till Christmas. Would’ve been nice to visit friends, practiced some yoga, enjoyed mom’s cooking. But ugh. Being awake is a workout enough for today.

Alexander Artemev – the gymnast from the USA (and Russia) – has terrible posture! So do I…but I didn’t expect it from a young gymnast. His pommel horse routine was beautiful!

My toes move and move and move. I think it is hilarious that MDs are calling it “restless leg syndrome” just as they label all bowel issues “irritable bowel syndrome.” Give it a name and we can throw meds at it!!!! LOL! Yes my toes (and often my feet) move constantly while I am sitting and lying in bed, but maybe they are supposed to! We know it’s a natural way to help the blood return to my core. It helps burn calories, too. Maybe those of us that have this constant wiggle are supposed to have it for some of these reasons!

I enjoy thinking. I enjoy being by myself. This evening of writing…despite how unimportant it would be for an outside reader…has been so nice. Maybe I’ll start a new post a bit later. I want to get into the problems. But while watching gymnastics my attention is divided. It is so nice to have this brief moment without classes. Without clinicals. It isn’t long enough, but I will take what I can get.

To do list: August 15, 2008

There’s a list of topics I want to hash out on this screen. I’ll forget them…most of them…if I don’t jot them down now. I’m not feeling healthy right now. I’m exhausted actually. But let’s see what I can remember.

Celebrities, popularity, security, happiness.

Mean people in classes, clinicals, in public.

Politics ruining friendships, our country, my calm.

Does anyone really read magazines cover to cover? And if so, where do they find the time?

Is speed-reading bullshit? I read slowly and I still can’t remember.

I don’t breath enough. I’m talking about frequency and depth.  I think it adds to my anxiety level.

Why does heartburn also make me feel like I am starving? What kind of cruel joke is that? I can be totally full and feel starving from that sensation. Ugh.

I feel rotten. I need to go for a nap. Maybe I’ll get into some of this later today.