December 31, 2013

New Year's Eve

     On the eve of a new year, I feel like I should be writing a deep and meaningful reflection of 2013.  I find myself sitting in awe as I quietly observe my three amazing daughters.    

     The eldest, at the ripe old age of six, is sitting at the kitchen table, meticulously following the directions and building a small solar powered car.  

I have to stifle a giggle as I take in the sight that is my middle daughter.  This four year old little girl is decked out in a pink nightgown, a ninja turtle mask and turtle shell, and princess dress up high-heel shoes while wielding a play sword and clutching her doll.  

Then there is the baby.  This little wild child is frantically dancing away as she sings along to a tune that only she hears.  She seems completely oblivious to countless medical challenges she has had to overcome in her two short years of life.  She just laughs, and sings, and dances away.  

     Somehow looking back over the whole year is too overwhelming, I simply have this moment in time.    



December 25, 2013

Family: Then and Now

Who could have ever imagined that this:

(Mom and her three girls)


Would grow into this (25 years later):

(Mom, her three girls, and NINE grand kids)

December 5, 2013

Journey through Nursing School: TIME

Time is the ultimate paradox.

There are periods that feel like there will never be enough time.  Not enough hours in the day to study for the next exam, play one more game with the kids, cook a decent dinner, finish the household chores, or even sleep.

Then there are points where time seems to have come to an almost complete standstill.  Waiting for the news from the doctor of how the surgery went, waiting for the exam grades to post, waiting for phone call offering the new job, or the elderly woman patiently waiting for her grandkids to have time to come visit her again.

Minutes can creep by slowly and yet suddenly years have flown by.  Time is the one thing that cannot be controlled, and yet its use is completely up to the discretion of each individual.

According to the calendar, a 30-something year old is much too young to have a mid-life crisis.  Yet, this journey through nursing school has left me feeling in the throes of uncertainty and self-doubt.  I never imagined the school work would be easy.  I fully expected to spend long hours studying, writing papers, and preparing assignments.  I never fathomed the profound effect returning to school would have on every aspect of my life.

I would love to be able to say that I chose nursing because I am a good and noble person and my only goal was to help others.  To be perfectly honest, I ended up here because I didn't want to live the rest of my life as the one who never lived up to her potential and I thought that I had had enough exposure to the medical world that I might not fail at this task.  I also wanted to be ‘something’ - have a specific role for a career.

Halfway through this journey to become a nurse, I feel like I am overwhelmed with the roles I now play.  Student, mother, wife, sister, daughter, friend.  Doing never-ending piles of laundry, grocery shopping to be able to have food to cook dinner, mopping, vacuuming, paying bills, reading books and singing bedtime songs, giving just one more hug and kiss before bed, wiping runny noses, comforting a sick child, and the never ending worry that I am doing it all wrong.  And then I add on nursing school, why am I doing this?

I am torn between feeling selfish for wanting this career for myself, and yet at the same time, feel like I am doing all of this for my family.  I want my kids to believe that anything is possible.  I want to instill in them a strong work ethic.  I want to be able to financially support any dream my children want to pursue.  I want to define myself as more than just a mother, and yet have my children know that they are the most incredible and most important part of my life.

On my drive to and from campus, I have 20 minutes of alone time that never existed before I started back to school.  This has turned out to be a blessing and a curse.  The drive has turned into a great opportunity to reflect and think.  Time for thinking and feeling can be very therapeutic and yet allows time for the self-doubt and self-criticism to creep in.  I have the time to review the material in my head for an exam I am about to take, but I also replay the scene of my preschooler clinging to my leg and crying uncontrollably because she doesn't want me to leave for school.  This leads to thoughts of all the tasks around the house that I have put off to focus on school.  Then the doubts about if my kids know how absolutely wonderful they are and if I am able to spend enough time with them.  Then I switch back to school mode; did I study enough for the exam? Did I show what I have learned in the assignment I am about to turn in?  Will I be good enough in my school work AND as a Mom?

Some days I feel like I have put in the extra effort, gone the extra mile and then wonder if it is all really worth it.  Why do I voluntarily choose to subject myself to the torture of continuing my education?  As this semester comes to a close, I will officially be half way through completing my bachelors of science in nursing.  It has been a bumpy road with more ups and downs than I care to even admit.  But as this semester ends, I have come to truly believe, that it IS worth it.  It is more than maintaining a straight A average, more than successfully checking off a skill in the lab, more than getting all the kids clean, fed and in bed without passing out myself, more than getting everything crossed off my to-do list.  It is all worth it because I am able to embrace this brutal and beautiful life.

I had always believed that good and productive person must be happy all the time.  The reality is that life is hard and pretending that everything is always good just leads to fake and meaningless life.  It is a fine line to walk between embracing the brutal and wallowing in self-pity.  Admitting that life is not always pleasant doesn't mean that joy can’t be found in every situation.  Sometimes the silver lining is simply that you made it through and tomorrow will be a new day.  Trying to create the ‘perfect’ life where there are no highs and lows, on the surface seems to protect myself from hurt and pain, but ultimately limits happiness, joy and love.

A wise professor once told me that it IS worth it, effort will be seen, good will always win.  I have learned that it ultimately isn't about what other people see you have done but being able to lay down at night and know in your heart that you used this day the best way you could.  Or accepting that you fell short today, needed a break, or didn't do everything you could have, but that tomorrow you WILL try again, and again, and again.

Down this road of life there will be bumps and bruises along the way.  Trying to cover up the hurt and pain will result in utter disaster.  Learning to reach out a hand to ask for help will not eliminate the difficult times, but will create a safety net to allow you to continue down the road.  Sometimes it clear which hand is reaching out to provide help and which hand is receiving the help, but often times the support provided to one another is a positive and powerful experience that blurs the line between helper and helped.          

November 20, 2013

Underwear

About 2 minutes before we were going to walk out the door to put Becca on the school bus, she announced, "Um, I think I forgot to put on underwear." 

You THINK you forgot?!? Are you wearing underwear or not?? 

NOPE!

November 15, 2013

Journey through Nursing School: More than Passing Meds and Making Beds: Today a life was changed.

More than Passing Meds and Making Beds: Today a life was changed.

Yesterday, Mr. C received devastating news – a biopsy was taken from the lump on his chest and the doctors believe it to be lung cancer.  Even worse – a scan revealed it has already spread.  There were 4 spots on his brain.

Last night the calm, level headed, happy-go-lucky Mr. C changed.  He transformed into an aggravated, combative, danger to himself.  He pulled out his IV, put on his clothes and was bound and determined to leave the floor, go down the elevator, and get his car (which was actually parked about an hour away).  He went on and on ranting and raving about needing to move his car.  His only focus was to get out of this prison and take care of moving his vehicle.  He hardly slept all night.

When I met Mr. C, he had calmed down a little.  He was still insisting that he needed to leave because he had things he needing to get done.  He still needed to move his car, he needed to make sure the lights were off but the porch light was on at his house.  Although retired, he was a very busy man, had things to do, and needed to get out of here.

My first task to complete was to do an assessment.  He was cooperative, but voiced concerned that he really wanted to take a shower and get cleaned up now.  We struck up a deal that I would do my assessment quickly, and then he could get in the shower. Mr. C was very independent and steady on his feet.  He showered, shaved and brushed his teeth while I tidied up the room.  With a neatly made bed, a fresh gown, and all cleaned up, Mr. C had calmed down dramatically.  He was clearly a bit stir crazy in the room, so we took a walk down the hall to have a cup of coffee.

We took a seat in the family lounge and enjoyed a cup of coffee.  The conversation flowed easily as he told me about the 44 years he worked for the same company, his daughter who now lived on the east coast, and his passion of restoring old muscle cars.  After about 45 minutes, we saw the breakfast trays being delivered, so we returned to his room.

As he finished his breakfast I knew the time had come to have a serious conversation about his health.  Now was the point that I needed to ask the hard questions and help him face the devastating diagnosis that he had received.  A voice inside me repeatedly shouted to just let him be, just continue the benign small talk, and don’t rock the boat.  But I knew what needed to happen.  No matter how messy or ugly it was, we had to face the truth.  I did my best to seem calm and matter of fact, but I could feel my body shaking.  I used my cover as a student nurse to shift the conversation to his health.  I jokingly blamed my professors for making us complete so much paperwork, and told him I needed to ask a few questions so I could complete my assignment.  It started easily enough, I asked about his health history.  I could see the fear in his eyes as he started to tell me the story of when he first noticed the lump on his chest.  My head was spinning trying to come up with just the right words.  When I asked him if he remembered what the doctors told him, he lowered his head and paused for a moment.  The silence felt like an eternity, when in reality it was only a few short seconds.  He slowly raised his head and looked me right in the eyes.  “Yes,” he began.  “They think it is cancer and… and..” another pause, “It is in my brain too”.  He clearly understood the seriousness of the situation.  I was so afraid that I would say the wrong thing, that I would somehow make things worse.  Before I could even form a complete thought in my head, I heard these words coming out of my own mouth, “That is a lot to take in.”  I immediately started to beat myself up on the inside, I wanted to come up with just the right thing to say, and that is all I had?  I was floored when a look of relief came over his face and he started to speak calmly and easily.  He went on to explain that in the last 24 hours his world had been turned upside down, but he didn’t want to burden anyone with his worry.  He admitted that he tried to act like it didn’t bother him, but he had no idea what he was going to do.  He revealed that he knew moving his car didn’t really matter, but he felt he had lost control over everything else, so maybe he became focused on that so he didn’t have to face the diagnosis he had been given.

Over the next hour we spoke gently and frankly about where he would go from here.  We talked about the difficulties of asking others for help, and that one of his greatest fears was that he would become a burden on others.  We didn’t go into the specific treatment, that would have to be discussed with the oncology team.  We did come to the conclusion that it was ok if things were ‘messy’.  He admitted that he liked life to be neat, organized and have a sense that he was in control.  He didn’t want to admit that he might not have it all figured out right now, but that it was ok to have hard conversations with loved ones, it was ok not to have all the answers, and it was ok to feel broken.  His plan from here on out was just to be present in the moment and allow others in with him.  He began to express a confidence that his feelings needed to shared, and he had trust in others to listen and support him.  He acknowledged that everything from treatment to being open to help from others would be hard, but he was willing to try.  He reminisced about how proud he felt when he has been able to lend a helping hand to others multiple times over the years and decided that maybe now was the time for others to have the ‘glory’ and be there for him.  He laughed and admitted that he probably wouldn’t get it all right on the first try, but he would keep trying and trying and trying.

As my time with Mr. C was ending, he shook my hand and smiled.  He thanked me over and over for being with him today.  I wish I could say that I performed some amazing and dramatic action today, but all I know I really did was show up and be present.  This kind man who had just received a shocking diagnosis was able to share his wisdom and self-discovery with me.  Every fear and doubt I had about my own struggles in life were brought into a completely different light.  He could acknowledge the fear, uncertainty, and emptiness and embrace the need to rely on others for help.   I couldn’t find the words to express what a difference he had made to me today, I just found myself thanking him for allowing me to be a part of his morning.

Today, in room 803, there were no cutting edge procedures performed, no foley catheters inserted, no central line dressing changes, and not a single medication was administered.  In fact, not one medical intervention occurred.  Despite this seemly lack of action, a life was changed, mine.        

March 30, 2013

G-tube Free!

Take a good look, this should be the last we see of this g-tube button!  No more feeding tube for this kid!


One day after returning home from the hospital:
"Mommy, when will Molly's 'special straw' grow back?" (that is what the girls called the feeding tube)
I explained that the doctor took it out and she didn't need it any more.
"But that made her special. How will we know which baby is Molly if she doesn't have it??"
I think I will be able to figure it out!

February 12, 2013

The Mommy Triathlon


The Mommy Triathlon

If you are a mother of young children, formal exercise is not something you have much time or desire to do!  As a substitute to going to the gym, you should partake in a triathlon weekly.  Yes, you read correctly, a triathlon.  This Mommy Triathlon is also known by another name, grocery shopping!  

Phase one: corralling all the kids, getting shoes and coats on, loading up in the car and unloading at the grocery store.  In this initial phase, it is crucial to remember a few key planning aspects.  Most importantly, make sure everyone has gone potty before leaving the house.  This is critical when you reach phase two!  On a good day, completing this episode is relatively simple. 

The beginning of stage two is marked by entry into the grocery store.  The first task is cart acquisition and securing all your ‘helpers’ in said cart.  Usually at least one child is crying at this point, but you must push on, you have a long way before this triathlon is completed.  Now, you probably wrote a detailed shopping list that may or may not have actually made it into the store with you.  If, by some miracle, you have this list in your hands, you might as well just throw it out now.  Better yet, just hand it over to the screaming child, she will end up with it soon enough.  You are now ready to commence upon filling your cart with all of your needed groceries.  Yeah right, you will now start filling your cart, but you will really have no idea what you are actually buying.  Between breaking up fights, preventing little hands from swiping items off the shelves, and attempting to lower the amount of noise pollution being emitted from your cart, there really isn’t much time left to see what it is that is filling up your cart.  You will reach for an item you need, get distracted by one or more of your helpers, and end up with who knows what in your hand.  But you press on and continue this ludicrous system because is there not an alternative.  Once you have acquired all of your needed food stuffs, the end of phase two is insight.  All you have to do now is make it to the checkout, unload the cart, prevent any small people from trying to add candy to the belt, engage in the ever so fun “Why Mommy?” game answering about 300 questions in 3 minutes, pay for all the groceries and get everything and everyone back to the car. 

You will now be feeling pretty good.  All the kids and the groceries are loaded in the car and you are heading home.  This feeling will be very short lived.  As stage three commences, the reality of the grueling final phase sets in.  You now have cranky and hungry children who probably have to go to the bathroom again AND a trunk full of perishable food.  As you pull into the garage, your mind is racing as to your next plan of action.  As you unload the kids, you are taking a mental inventory of the grocery items that will spoil the fastest.  Now the race is on.  You will learn just how quickly you can grab bags out of the car and run them into the house.  By the time you make it back in the door, the smallest of your helpers, who has just learned to crawl, will be trying to make her escape into the garage.  Reset baby – move her to the farthest corner of the family room and RUN back to the garage to grab another armload of bags overflowing with random food.  Yes, you will come running back in the door just to be greeted again by your new little speed racer.  Reset baby again, shoo other helpers out of the bags already brought in and SPRINT back to the car.  Repeat as many times as necessary until all of the groceries are in the house.  If it hasn’t happened in the previous stages, this will be the point that sweating is guaranteed.  As you wipe your brow, you see the end is in sight.  At this point you might be tempted to grab a random snack out of the bags to try to control the wild hooligans who used to be your calm wonderful children…DO IT!  This will buy you a good 4 minutes to be able to throw items into the freezer and fridge.  Yes, items will be piled willy-nilly, but they will not spoil and all will not be lost.  Rejoice as you place that final item in the pantry.  You have completed another Mommy Triathlon!  If all goes well, you won’t have to do this again until next week J       

January 26, 2013

Different Drum












Just a few pictures of the girls with a song that always makes me smile.