Scrubbin’ to the elbows!

This morning I embarked on a new part of my life. It was my first clinical day at Franklin Square Hospital.

As I was driving to the hospital this morning, just as the first light rays were hitting the sky, I was thinking to myself that I really did it. I really am in nursing school. Woah!

As I drove down 695, I couldn’t help but think about all the classes I had been through to get to this point. All the exams, all the papers, all the stress that I have been through, and then I thought about what is still coming up for me, aand I decided not to think about it right then.

I found the employee parking lot, parked, and boarded the shuttle to take me to the hospital building. We pulled up to the side door, exited, and walked through into the hospital. I remember my instructor telling me to follow the long hallway till I got to the cafeteria and we would meet there at quarter to 8. I found it no problem [but there was still the anxiety present] and realized that I had over a half hour to sit and wait for every one else to arrive.

I picked a seat that would have a clear view of the entranceway and pulled out my pharmacology notes to study for my exam that was tonight. I studied for a few minutes, and then I just started to look around. That’s when it struck me. I had not been in a hospital cafeteria since Amy was in the NICU 14 years ago.

I remember it all very vividly even though I was only 4 at the time. Josh had stayed home with someone, since he was only 2, while Katie and I went with Dad to visit Mom and Amy. I remember scrubbing up with this scratchy soap or something all the way up to my elbows, putting on a gown that was altogether too big for my little 4-year old body, and trying to figure out how to put on my facemask while keeping my sleeves out of the way.

I remember walking over to visit my sister, and hearing all the machines beeping and blaring. It was either one of us; Katie or myself, who kept asking what all the machines were for. The nurse on duty was so nice and calm when she answered and told us what everything did and why it was hooked up to our sister, all the while getting Amy out of her incubator into mom’s waiting arms.

When the visit was over, Dad took Katie and I down to the cafeteria to get ice cream. And this is strictly a memory thing; there is no home video about this [I remember looking].

As I sat in the cafeteria at Franklin Square this morning I was over struck by emotions that I didn’t expect. I thought back through all the years since I was last in a hospital cafeteria and just realized how much we all have grown. Amy is no longer a very sick baby in the neonatal intensive care unit, but is a teenager with an attitude to boot. I am no longer that four year-old visiting her sister in the hospital, but a junior in college in the nursing program.

It’s amazing how time changes everything. Just imaging what can happen in the next 14 years.

Wound healing

Almost 2 years ago in the spring semester of 2008, I took anatomy and physiology II at AACC. I took it with Larsen as my instructor who, with the exception of Dr. Dean, has been my favorite teacher of all times.

I remember very vividly learning about wounds and wound healing on the second day of class that January week. I normally have a very good memory, but I especially remember this because I was attempting to stop cutting around this time. I remember sitting there trying not to cry when we were learning about the immune response that went along with wound healing, and how many factors go into this process. I saw pictures of what was going on under the layers of skin and imagined it happening right at that moment under the skin of my arms. I found out that it was the collagen fibers that were responsible for the scars on my arms that were visible to everybody’s eyes.

I don't know exactly if learning that was to blame, or if it just added to the package of everything piling up [I am pretty sure it was the latter] but the last week in that January, the 28^th to be exact, was the last time I purposely cut myself. And oh, what a long road it has been since then.

And as I sit here, in the library at the School of Business at Stevenson University, working on a case study that is due tomorrow for Pathophysiology, I am revisiting that subject of wound healing and the process behind it. I am revisiting the memories of that last week in that particular January, and thinking how I will not go back. I have been cut free since that January 28^th, 594 days ago, and the only plan I have is to add to that number.

So, if you will excuse me, I am going to finish writing about wound care, glance at my own collagen fibers that have made their way onto my arm, [wonder if they will ever completely fade away], and continue to count the days that have gone by.

Taking the easy way out.

There is a women currently sitting at another table across the room at the coffee shop. As she is drinking her frappe, she is talking on the phone with her friend. This woman is telling her friend that she is going to buy a certain weight loss product because since sales on that product are skyrocketing, it must work.

She is continuing to talking about it, saying how 80% of the people taking this particular product lost an additional 5 pounds more in a certain time frame without exercising or dieting, just by taking the product.

She wants the easy way out. She wants to lose weight but doesn’t want to do any work.

Aren’t we all like that? It might not specifically be with weight, but I assure you, we all have something that we want without going through the work of getting there.

I am sitting here attempting to work on a case study that is due on Monday for pathophysiology, and I don’t want to do it. I want the A in the class, of course, but if I am not willing to do the work, I know that I won’t get that A.

I need some motivation to get me through this semester. Unlike a weight loss product that you can take to somewhat make you lose weight, there is no such product to make you somewhat get an A.

Motivation, where are you?

Valuable stars

Man. Talk about procrastination. I wrote half of a blog post over the summer and never posted it.

Over the summer I took three summer classes and on top of that had to study for the dosage exam before this semester started. One day, as my summer classes were coming to an end, I grabbed some lunch at Chick-fil-a and sat down to study a bit for one of my finals. As I was sitting there, I overheard a man talking on the phone to his friend and he was complaining about a few things going on in his life, mainly about a ticket he hadn’t paid from 3 years ago in MD, which caused his license to be suspended in SC. There was a sentence he said that really got my attention, “What have I done in this world to make me have all this grief? “

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The last week of my summer classes, I was watching ‘wife swap, and a scene really got me thinking. A mom that swapped families was talking to the dad of that family about his son’s behavior, which was unacceptable to her. Her solution was to give stars for good behavior, which they could use for TV time, computer time, and such, and to take away the stars when they were not obeying her and acting out. In this one seen I saw, the son was completely acting out and disobeying so the “mom” told his dad that he would not be about to go to football practice because she was going to take all his stars away.

When the dad heard this, he told the women that she was not going to make his son stay home from practice because it was something that he loved to do. So he told the “mom” to take away his stars instead of his sons. And she did.

After the son came back from football practice, he was still being completely disobedient so his father told him that he was not supposed to go to practice because he broke the rules, but he let him and said:

“I gave up my stars for you because I didn’t want you to miss out on football practice.“

And can you imagine the son’s response?

“So?”

This is what Jesus did for us. Gave up his live, his stars, so we could go on living. And my response is somewhat like that little boys.

“So?”

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And to wrap this all up, I am such a procrastinator. Not just for not posting this for months, but for putting off writing my 5-page paper till the day before it’s due.

But that is what college is for.

Isn’t it?