All that Glitters...

So things aren't what I thought they'd be. Almost four months later and we're still not completely moved in to the new apartment. Things are all a mess. It drives me insane. I hate not having things in order. We never had the housewarming party. We never had the birthday celebration either. And of course, now we're fighting. The honeymoon is officially over.

I knew it was going to happen at some point. I just didn't expect it to happen so soon. I suppose I wouldn't mind the fighting as much if I had seen it coming. But it comes out of nowhere. The worst part is the crying. It's awful. My face gets puffy and my lips seem to swell. Then there's the copious amounts of snot. Just dripping. Tissue after tissue. And then my nose is just so stuffed I can't breathe. Plus I look like a fool. And he thinks I'm just being a girl. If there was a way around it I would certainly take it.

Is it selfish of me to want the best parts of life now? I've had so many less-than-wonderful moments that I think it's time to have some highlights. It seems that's not what's in store for me. The typical ups and downs are my destiny. I suppose it's a good thing, though I have a difficult time seeing that perspective. And I'm feeling like there's far too many lows lately. One after another.

For peace of mind, I went to a movie alone. I used to do that from time to time in the past. I forgot how freeing and yet lonely it can be. I saw Julie & Julia. I enjoyed the film though critics seemed to rip it apart. I sat alone in the back of the theater, no one around except for one couple in the front of the second section. Popcorn in one hand, cherry icee in the other, I sat and let my self be absorbed into the film. Amy Adams is so sweet it's a bit sickening. And Meryl Streep is, of course, amazing. It did make me wonder about the life of Julia Child. I remember seeing her show on television and just laughing. She was just entertaining. Now that I'm older and less than gifted when it comes to cooking, I'm interested and in awe. I'm even thinking of picking up a cook book and trying out some recipes. Who'd have thought, me cooking? Something other than Mexican of course. We'll see if I can find taste test subjects.

Life moves on, whether I want it to or not. I was talking with a friend through facebook messages. She and I were both in agreement that life needs to be put on pause for a moment so we can catch up. Where does the time go? Everyone seems to ask that question so frequently. And there is no answer. If only I could catch up to where I think I should be. I'm almost 30 and I can't seem to get settled. Isn't that where I'm supposed to be? Settled? Thinking of marriage and planning a family? Maybe a nice home in which to have 2.5 children? Well, truth be told, that's where I was headed. But there's been obsticales. It's been a tough year. He says that often. And I know it has. I was there to watch it all. Of course, he doesn't let me in any further than that so I can't really tell how much impact it's had on him. I just see how worn and melancholy he's become. Which tears me apart little by little, piece by piece. I can't help him because he won't let me. Maybe I don't even have the power to help him. But he sure won't let me even try. I suppose he thinks it's something he has to do alone. I've done that before, though. And it doesn't work. Everyone needs a little help from those around them, those close to them.

For now, I guess I'll sleep in the other bedroom and try to work things out with him. And keep unpacking a box a day. Maybe by the time I finish unpacking it'll be time to pack up again. Oh well. I have to do something.

At Peace

It's finally over. Even though it's been years in the making it feels very sudden. Mrs. Booth passed late on Sunday evening. We had just been to the hospice facility to get her settled and spend some time with her. We left and had a late dinner together and planned the next few days. They had given us a timeframe. Two to three weeks they said. But I knew better. Her body was giving out. The cancer was winning out. She looked frail and generally beat.

When we were in the hospital the morphine was doing nothing for her pain. They were on to dilaudid now. And to help her rest a dose of ativan. With the combination, she was out. She barely responded to our conversation. I sat there quietly with her alone for a moment. I watched her breathe. It was shallow and regular. Then for a moment it sounded coarse and was irregular, as if she couldn't catch her breath. Her mouth opened but her eyes stayed shut. I prayed for her to take another breath. She did so. Quietly and regularly again. This happened a couple more times while I was with her. I knew in my heart we were nearing the end but I wouldn't listen. Mr. Booth came back and sat with me. Kevin was there too, just getting off security detail. We sat and joked a bit. Anything to take our minds off her poor health. Motown hits played quietly in the background in hopes of helping her find some peace in the hectic emergency department.

That was only hours before she passed. After the call came, we all headed to the facility. It was nice there. Calm, warm and soothing. Just what a hospice place should be. As I walked in, Kevin, Karen and Mr. Booth were all around Mrs. Booth's body. I looked down at her pale face. There was a hint of a smile there. The beginnings of tears burned my eyes. I blinked them back. Mr. Booth rose from the bedside and hugged me. I held him tightly, wishing I could take his pain away. Kevin walked over and bent down so I could wrap my arms around him. I held him tightly, too. I felt his shoulders give in and his tears fell, soaking my shoulder. From somewhere deep inside I felt some strength. I knew I had to be strong. I couldn't cry along with him. Not now. He finally let go and we talked. To her. To each other. Mostly, I listened. That's what I was there for. To listen and to help.

Days have passed and the funeral is near. I'm starting to feel overwhelmed with emotions. I'm so upset that she won't be here for our wedding. I wanted her to have that dance with her son. The mother-son dance. The one where she beams proudly at Kevin as he leads her around the floor in front of everyone. He won't have that now. Our children won't know her. We'll tell them stories of how wonderful she was and all the mischief she got into when she was younger but they'll only know her from photos. I can say it's not fair but that's how life goes. I know I'm being selfish but it doesn't make the feelings go away.

For now, I am relieved. She's no longer in pain. She's with Him now. He will take care of her better than we ever could. I know she'll watch over us. And in some way she'll be at the wedding.

Cleaning Up A Big Mess

Ages again since I've posted. I wasn't able to sit long enough to focus on the keystrokes. But now I am. Since the medicine. Yes, the medicine.

I saw the doctor finally. I'm not healed. I'll never be healed but I will be treated and that means I can have a nearly normal life. Isn't that grand? Nearly normal? What everyone dreams of, I suppose. Don't get me wrong; I'm not really complaining. I just thought it would turn out differently. Okay, I hoped it would. Secretly, deep down, I knew this would be how things turned out for me. It hasn't been easy for me. Nothing in life is easy, I know. I just kind of hoped things would be a little easier now that I've started my life. I have a this wonderful man that I want to settle down and grow old with, maybe even have - dare I say it- children. We're starting a life together. I want it to be perfect. I want to be the perfect little wife and make him incredibly happy. But I know that's not going to happen. It won't be perfect because we're not perfect. We are who we are. No more no less.

And therein lies my problem. I have no idea if I am the person I thought I was. For so long I thought I could trust myself but now I've found out that I've been partially mistaken. So how do I rebuild trust in myself? It's hard enough when it's someone else. Is there a book on this? A manual perhaps? I'm sure there's a half dozen on sale now if I just look on Amazon. I have faith that somehow this will turn out well. I will turn out well. It's just hard to keep the faith.

Though I've had this recent struggle, I've been living a wonderfully challenging life that has helped me grow and appreciate the little wonders in life.

I was floated the other night to a unit that accepts new admits and observation patients from the emergency department. It's the over flow unit and most of the patients there are on telemetry monitors for cardiac conditions. I'm not trained to handle cardiac conditions of this nature. In fact, I'm not even supposed to float until May. I'm "too new." But there on the list was "1W" written next to my scribble of a name. I grabbed up my things and proceeded to ask for directions to the unit. I had been there once during orientation to see the layout of the hospital. Months later and I still get turned around from time to time.

I walked the eerily quiet hallways to the unit. I badged in, secure unit. Kind of scary already.
Three nurses were running around and paid no attention to me. Two doctors were on the phones at the nurses station yelling at unseen parties. No doubt there had been some sort of confusion and orders were missed. I walked up to the one smiling face. I told him my name. "Two South, eh? Welcome. You can put your stuff back here and then get report from the nurses. We're getting three admits right now so you'd better hurry."

Three admits now? Change of shift? What the he-
My thought was interrupted by the sight of a familiar face. A nurse from my own unit. She was frazzled beyond anything I had seen when she was on our unit. The pit of my stomach dropped. She's been here for years and she's at her wit's end. What can I do? Yikes! I threw my stuff down and looked at the board for my assignment. Four patients here and one admit. I can do that. No big deal. Except my admit was already here and slightly different. She was direct. Not from the emergency department. The doctor sent her and no one knew why. She had been waiting for almost an hour and no one had a clue why she was in the hospital. Not so great. The nurse before me took over. She gathered the information I needed and helped me get things together. I had another patient I was transferring up to another unit. Her name was familiar.

I dove in, head first, one thing at a time. Priorities, that's what they taught us in school. My transfer needed to go. But first she needed some blood work done and an antibiotic. I checked in on her. Her smiling face was familiar. I had just had her as a patient a week ago. The poor thing had fallen at home and smashed her skull open. More staples than I have fingers sealed her scalp shut. When last I saw her she had the most ridiculous looking dressing on her head. It reminded me of the gaudy hats women wore ages ago. Big feathers and fluff. She just had the fluff and a band around her chin.

She was looking much better now. Except her leg was now infected. When she fell her leg also broke her fall. Swollen to twice it's normal size, it was wrapped in a large bandage. This was serious. I felt so awful for her. She had already spent her birthday in the hospital. Now this. I talked to her briefly through a mask. To top it all off she was on isolation as a precaution for a more serious infection, MRSA. It's been in the news so much as of late. I explained what the plan of care was for her and started on her paperwork.

I stopped in quickly to see my four other patients. Everyone was getting ready for bed. They were all ill and quite tired from the activities of the day. It doesn't help that the staff is in every two to four hours checking on them. Who can really sleep well in such a situation?

The night was so busy I barely sat long enough to take a phone call from a doctor. I ran from one room to another passing pills and pushing IV medications. No one was available to take my patient up to her room so I took her up myself. Three bags, one IV pole, a cane, and her clothes all in a wheelchair with her. Not the most graceful transfer ever but I did get her to her room without running her into the wall. Success!

Getting back to the unit as quickly as possible, I picked up another patient to replace the transfer. Our sister hospital was now on bypass, meaning they were no longer taking patients. They were full. This means tons more work for us. I now had 6 patients, which is my normal when I'm on my unit. But these patients were different. I had everything from severe back pain to alcohol detox to deep vein thrombosis to heart attack and stroke. Not an easy case load. Usually I have hip and knee replacements. I muddled through stopping to ask where supplies were and how to read monitors. Most of my patients were wonderful. They were just ready for sleep and happy to have a nurse that listened. So often we run in the room and run out without listening to a single thing people say. It's a sad truth. There just isn't the time sometimes.

The evening never really did calm down for anyone. There was an hour break when we were able to catch up on charting. Peace. Peace in charting. Who would have thought? Morning came quickly. I passed more meds and gave report to the next shift wishing them luck.

I left wondering, had I done everything I possibly could have to make my patients comfortable and safe? Was there anything I had left out of my charting that would lose a case in the court of law? That's something they've been pushing a lot of lately. Law. Not charted, not done. Did I chart everything. I drove home in a daze. Just when I was feeling a little more upset about the evening, a text came rang my phone.

"Good morning, love. How was your evening?"

Just that was enough to make it all better. It was day. The next day. I made it through the night and I was fine. No one died. No one suffered. I did the best I could with what I had. And now, the love of my life was thinking of me, hoping I was fine. It could have been worse. But it wasn't. It was just as much as I could handle.

A lesson learned. I only get as much as I can handle. Even when I think I can't, I do. I always make it through because that's what I'm here to do. Get through and be better in the end.

Things Are A Bit Messy

I haven't updated in quite some time. It's been a bit hectic and to be perfectly honest, I haven't had the energy. I don't really have wonderful cheery news. I don't have many nice things to say. By the rules my grandmother taught me I should, therefore, say nothing at all. Perhaps by purging my head of these thoughts I'll find peace and at the very least a moment of rest.

My ATT (Authorization To Test) has not arrived. I'm anxiously awaiting this silly piece of paper that is the key to the next step of my future. According to the website it could take up to four weeks for the letter to arrive. The few others I've spoken with received their letters within a week. It's been almost three weeks. Should I worry? Probably not but I do regardless. It's what I do best.

My father was hospitalized on Monday morning. He foolishly drove himself to the emergency room with severe abdominal pain, nausea, vomiting, and fever. Why didn't he wake anyone up? No idea. I suppose it's a male way of thinking. He had a cholecystectomy (removal of the gallbladder) on Wednesday morning after the nephrologist, endocrinologist, and cardiologist cleared him for surgery. From what I hear his surgeon was wonderful. So much so in fact, Mum wants to invite him for dinner in hopes of marrying me off. Nevermind the fact I have a boyfriend. Poor Kevin. Looks like he has competition. My father came home Friday evening. He's off work for a week until his check-up. I'm sure all will be well. He just gave us a bit of scare.

I'm house/doggy/kitty sitting for a friend/coworker. It's a cute little house in Arlington Heights. She has two dogs and two cats. They're all adorable and have great personalities. I haven't slept with Ducky. There just isn't room. On average I have two animals with me. Not just with me but right on me. They are very loving animals. Except when the mailman comes. Then they turn into little hellhounds. Yesterday I came home from work ill. I curled up on the couch barely able to move, completely exhausted from the virus. The dogs curled up with me and kept me warm. Today I called in sick though I really shouldn't have. Paychecks are desperately needed but I really don't want to spread my germs around the office. I hate being blamed for the latest bug outbreak. If people washed their hands and covered their mouths the office wouldn't be half as sick as it has been. I digress. I stayed home and watched movies while napping on the couch. My boyfriend came over and took me to a movie and then spent some cuddle time with me on the couch. He's very attentive. He may not be a doctor but he knows how to keep me in line. Thanks to him, I now have a decent supply of tissues and cold medicine as well as vitamin water.

The past few days have been exceptionally difficult for numerous reasons. Deep wounds from the past have not completely healed. I've come to realize a few things about myself that I never really knew before. Perhaps I knew I just didn't really understand. The realization gave me a new perspective on my life and my relationships with people. I knew it was time I had to let someone close to me in a little further. It was time to let down the wall, to pull back the curtain and let him see me exactly as I am. He needed to know the past events that helped make me the person I am today. I've told the story to those closest to me many times before. I've even spoken in groups. Somehow this seemed different. I know the reaction I've had in the past hasn't always been favorable. Some pass judgment against me. Some blame me. And for some, it's too much for them to handle and our friendship ends there. He deserved to know the truth. No matter how awful it is. Our relationship could not progress without revealing this bit of information. This bit that seems to weigh a ton.
Three glasses of wine later I found the courage to open up to him. The anniversary of awful events was upon me and the recurring nightmares had begun earlier than usual. Sleepless nights and intrusive thoughts rob me of my happiness and energy. So I wear a mask. To protect others. Over the years I find more and more that people would rather live in their own happy worlds than face the truth. When they ask the question usually they don't really want the answer. The mask works well. But I can't ware the mask for him. He sees through it. He knows there's a problem.
I sat beside him after an hour of friendly chat. It's a blur now. I don't even know how it started. I just remember the tightness in my chest and the fast pounding of my heart. There was terror in his eyes. I hadn't even told him yet. He was expecting something awful. I tried to skip the details but it was clear some were needed. I slid to the floor beside him and gazed off into the corner. It's easier if I don't have to look into his eyes. I started from the beginning. My words stuck in my throat and I forced them out through tears. The whole thing played in my mind again like some awful snuff film. It took all my energy to stay in the present. My fingers wound around my chain and the sheets and whatever else I could lay my hands on just to keep me grounded in reality. He was silent. So silent I had wondered if he had stopped listening. At some point he slid down on the floor next to me and held my arm. The story was over. I felt empty and achy. He turned to me with red eyes and told me how he'd always be there for me though he was terrified. No amount of training ever really prepares you for this. It's one of those things you read in textbooks but never really think will happen. No one ever wants to think it will happen. But it does. Frequently. 1 in 3.
So finally more of me made sense. Things were more clear to him. For a moment I thought I was in the clear. I thought it had gone exceedingly well. That frightened me. There was no immediate reaction. I didn't know what to make of it. He asked me what we were to do. He asked me if I was ending our relationship. He said he couldn't stop me from leaving. And it hit me. He didn't want this. He didn't want to know. He wasn't ready for the truth. Somewhere I found strength. I don't know where. Through red puffy eyes and endless tears I forgave him. I told him it was okay, that I understood. I stood to go, looking for my keys but he stopped me. He spoke but I could not hear him. All I could hear were my thoughts, how foolish I had been to wait so long to tell him. I should have told him sooner rather than later. Why did I think this would work? The calm and clarity that I possessed seemed to balance the sheer panic in him. His words came tumbling out of his mouth so fast without any order. He held tightly to my hands. Together we worked it out. We talked. This was a first. I had never seen anything like it. His first inclination was to run. But he didn't. He sat with me and holding on to me for fear of losing me. He was different. I had underestimated him. The night ended with affection, support, and an understanding. It was a good start.

Not very eloquent. Not the best I've ever written. But I'll place some blame on the cold medicine and the congested head.

For now, I think I'll try to sleep. I pray for a dreamless sleep. One of rest. I pray to fight the demons some other night when I can breathe through both nostrils simultaneously, when my throat doesn't burn, and when my head doesn't feel like it weighs fifty pounds.

Et tu, Brute?

About a year and a half ago I had a rough experience with a "friend." This is what I wrote.

"I sat here contemplating life today. I do that more and more lately. My life has never been so clear and so complicated all at the same time. So many choices lie ahead of me, each more difficult than the previous. I'm finally finding meaning in all the horrible things I been through. I've found a purpose for my life. I'm stronger than I've ever been before but just as vulnerable.
I thought I really found someone I connected with but I was wrong. I keep saying that I'm tired of the heartache and pain only to fall into the same trap again. I gave someone a glimpse of my tormented mind only to be laughed at and ridiculed. I felt so utterly foolish. The friend and confidant I saw before me was nothing more than a Trojan horse. I simply walked away with my head down. At first my mind was void of any thought. Suddenly a thousand words came to mind like a torrential rainfall. I held my tongue. It was the most civil thing I could have done. I do believe in being honest with people but I don't believe in saying anything to intentionally hurt them.

What makes people so narrow-minded and self-centered? How is it that so many people wander the planet without a clue as to there effects on those around them? Perhaps it is because they simply do not care. I cannot believe that. Not of such a large group. I've shared so much with this person and to find that my most intimate thoughts, ideas, fears, etc. have been entrusted to such a fiend... I feel hollow.

This only strengthens my belief that evil is most successful disguised as a non-threat, the ones you least expect. Sugar and spice, warm fuzzies, rainbows, and flowers all laced with carcinogens and various other toxins.

I refuse to let one more person taint me. I refuse to let one more person have such a negative impact on my life. There is good out there. There is someone that really cares. There is someone that will listen. It's just that it's not the one I thought it was. Live and Learn..."

I seem to have come across another person that fits this discription above. This time, though, I was a little more cautious. I didn't let him in as far as I had let the other person. I learned a lesson and it prepared me for people like him. He tells me all sorts of wonderful things. He praises me in little ways because he knows that's what I like best. Moments later he's ridiculing me and falsely accusing me of lies. His claims are unfounded and seem to be from "left field" as it were.

What bothers me most, what really confounds me, is his preaching. I don't claim to be a good Catholic. I'm not. I quite frankly suck. But I have my faith. I have a relationship with God that I'm comfortable with. I don't feel the need to go to church or confess my sins to a priest. But I know that I'm not a horrible person. I do try to live my life right and well. I may not live by the Ten Commandments, per se. I don't force my views on someone else either. I'm not a against having a good theological conversation. In fact, I'm quite in favor of it! Anyway, it bothers me that people that preach about being a good Christian can, in the same breath, judge me while looking down their noses at me. It's times like that I wish I could hold up a mirror. What is it with people? I know we all have our flaws. We are human. I get that. I am aware of many of my own flaws. I guess it seems to me that people that study the Bible and strive to be in tune with God would be a little more forgiving. Am I crazy? Am I missing something? Perhaps I'm just a little too idealistic.

**Sigh**