Boo hoo

In light of me not wanting to become the eternal whiner, may I just say that I think I've finally hit the wall that we were told of in nursing school? It goes like this, you receive your license, never been more ecstatic, excited to practice nursing and you realize you are on your own! You make decisions you never thought you'd have to make and you do things so cool, you'd never thought you'd get the chance to do them, you help people change, you save someone's life, you feel like you make a real difference, you realize you are free, independent, on your own...

Then you realize that you are free, independent, on your own.... You realize that you don't get to see the positive outcomes or the happy endings, only the person in the midst of their need, in their lowest of lows, in their most vulnerable state. Shouldn't this be a blessing? Shouldn't I feel privileged to be there in that time? After all, that's why I did this anyway, wondering if there could be anything greater for me to do in my life than to be there for someone in their time of greatest need. Then, suddenly, people are mean, very rude, unbearably awful to you when you try to help. With your nicest voice and genuine concern you ask if they are having any pain only to have something thrown at you or thrown up at you, or a nasty comment, no comment at all, whatever. And for all that you do, and all that you are punished for not doing, you wonder, I wonder, why am I doing this? Does this make a difference at all? Why does nursing make it impossible to do a good job? If you focus on what is important, (the patient), and do what you should for them, you have done a good job. But wait, you also need to chart on 500 different pieces of paper in 500 different ways what you did and what you said and when you did it and how you said it and the patient's response and the doctor's orders and this and that and this...only for the purpose of covering your hospital's butt, if it has one, and if you do all this paperwork that you need to do to cover someone's ass that you've never met you've neglected your patient, the very purpose that gave you a purpose in the first place. How is it that we can do a good job then? Believe me when I say that 12 hours in a shift is not enough. People ask if the shifts get long. No, it doesn't. I am frantic at 6 pm, wishing for 3 more hours, knowing I'll apologize to the next shift for things left undone, all while knowing that I did my very best and I am run ragged. I leave defeated, unworthy, and I can't feel my legs.

Will the smokers quit smoking? No. Will they keep having heart attacks? Yes. Do they give a flying crap what you say? No. Are they angry that you don't give them the answer that they want? Yes. Will anyone be nice to the nurse?

I've got to get back to the place that I started....too excited for my own good. Ready for anything, unhurt by awful things that happen, unphased by the lack of accomplishment that lies ahead. I've got to get back there to this honeymoon phase they told us about before graduation...the phase that precedes the worst phase of all, burnout. Here I am burnout. I don't want to go anymore. I don't want to show up on Monday and I certainly don't want to be yelled at anymore. What difference do we make anyhow? I'm dying for a desk job, data entry possibly, stuff is concrete, on paper, into the computer, nothing is wrong, nothing is questionable, your work is measured by what you do, how much you do. It's concrete, predictable, people need it done. People want it done. Poor me. Boo hoo. Pity party here. Fully aware of it, no judgment needed on this. I'll snap out of it soon. Here's me being aware of what state I'm in and hoping for a brighter tomorrow.

I know how this sounds, pathetic, whiny, annoying, etc. For all the prayers and hopes and dreams I had to become a nurse, to disrespect this profession because it's hard? Grow up, Mel. Well, to be therapeutic, sometimes I must be honest with myself. This blog is my honesty. It is written for myself today in honor of my own pity party. I'm tired of waking up sweating after a dream I had about something I forgot to do at work. I just want to dream about something awesome, like a potluck at church. That's awesome. I just want to feel like I did a good job at something. I want to sleep through the night. I want to awake refreshed. I want to feel like I did something right.

When you are old or sick or hurt, love your nurses. Most of them love you. They want to help you. They want you to feel better. That's why we are here. What gives people the justification in their hearts to treat others so badly? I didn't want to become imbittered and calloused. How can you not? Just for your own protection?

Our class was told that these stages exist. We were given tools to survive the burnout. We were told the first six months are the hardest. Give it six months and you'll feel better. My whole life I've blown through stages, always ready for the next one before I should be...not always in a good way and not because I'm awesome. Simply because I've always wanted to push forward and get to the next step, horribly lacking in delayed gratification my mom tells me. She loves me nonetheless. Perhaps I will blow through this one too, not wanting to wallow in this miserableness for one more second than I have to, and rearrive in the place of nursing happiness, able to separate myself from mean people's words, able to go home thinking about home and not work, able to sleep soundly in my bed without moving to the couch or waking up in fear, able to clock in without a pit in my stomach and a knot in my throat, able to laugh when my patient is ridiculous, able to brush it off when I've failed. Let me blow through this stage like I've always wanted to do and get back to where I started (excited for the possibilities). I'd like to stay in that stage a while longer.

Out with the old....

and no longer useful no matter how old.....today is a rainy cold day perfect for organizing and rummaging, and filing, and recycling. Old curtains from when we moved in, tableclothes long shrunken and faded in the dryer, STACKS of papers from nursing school that I'll never use, or want to use, again. A stack that has been growing, intended for Goodwill. Reluctantly choosing only my favorite artwork from each stage of my girls' arthood, recycling the anatomy workbooks and lab manuals, tossing the nursing cds from the back of the text books, which I can't sell on half.com anyway. I neatly folded remnants of countless packages of tissue paper from gifts hastily bought on the way to the party, no matter how much I had of it at home, now all placed in a bag with recycled gift bags, ready for the next gift. Paystubs and physicals, immunization records, pictures, games stacked neatly on the shelf, $30 in checks I haven't cashed yet, and a $20 gift card to Target scored from a pile of unpaid bills, diamond in the rough. $5 in an old book bag and an unopened Women's Health magazine. What could be better?A neat, organized home? Although my achievement should feel greater, it doesn't. This was only our office. On to bigger, and better things....like the laundry pile.

Happy fall!

A tribute to Zoey

Yesterday, the best cat in the world entered kitty heaven. I know he is in heaven, because he has been angelic from the start. He was the gift of my dreams following my baptism at 12 years old. The only thing I wanted was a pure white kitten, to which my mom took seriously, this request, and looked all over to find an all white kitten. "Is the kitten ALL white?" my mom would say on the phone. "It maybe has a yellow spot on his belly? Well that won't do". Maybe it didn't go exactly like that, but she did in fact deliver the perfect, perfectly white, long-haired kitten.

At first, we believed that my little kitten was a girl and so I named her Zoey Lynn (the middle name after myself) Powers. This little kitten would hide in our basement in Pomeroy until she either heard the food bag rustle or until I stood at the top of the stairs and screeched in a very high pitched voice, "Zoey Lyyyyynnnnnnnnnn!" And the kitty came running, pouncing up each stair and slipping on some but always up as quickly as possible to me, open arms and waiting at the top of the stairs. This kitten did not meow like normal kitties. Instead she said, mmmmmMMMMMM? She was the best kitten ever. A she? Oops, a he...we soon found out that we were indeed wrong on the sex of this cat, not that it mattered, but we altered his name to fit his gender, now lovingly named Zoey Leon Powers.

This was a kitten that could not harm a fly, literally. He'd catch them, then let them go. When two fish joined our family, Lewis & Roland, I found Zoey sitting sadly by their bowl of spilled water and their tiny lifeless fish bodies on my carpet. Did Zoey eat them? No. He simply wanted to play with them. He was devastated that they were gone and he waited there, next to them, to let me know how sorry he was...and he was immediately forgiven.

Zoey Leon grew bigger and bigger and BIGGER and BIGGER until he was the biggest cat ever, I think. He loved to eat. Eventually, we had to put him on some what of a diet, to which he lost some of his poundage but not all. He was a very majestic cat and he knew it. He'd perch up on top of the couch or chair and rule over the lower lands.

When Steve was so allergic to him that he couldn't breathe any longer, I gave up Zoey and he became a community cat. He lived with Mom and eventually, Lianna and Shawn and their dog Lucy. Lucy and Zoey were buddies and fought and picked on each other, lovingly of course. The Cornally's put him on a real diet and he lost all of his overweightness and turned into quite the skinny little kitty, but always beautiful...long white hair blowing in the breeze. He had a very happy life, loved by all, especially me....well everyone loved him deeply. When he stretched his paws out wide and made himself long, he measured nearly 4 feet I'm sure. Adorable fuzzy belly. Zoey understood some English too. Like, "do you want to be brushed?" To which he'd replied with excited purrs and perts and leg rub-bys. Smart kitty.

This will end this tribute to the best cat in the world....pretty Zoey Leon Powers, the community/family kitty. I'll always be grateful to Lianna and Shawn, Mom and Dad, who adopted him and loved him just as much as me. We miss him already.