Sometimes Life is Stupid. Precious, but Stupid.

Day 1: Sink explosion. Clogging of the drain on the right hand sink caused backup of water to explode out of the failing seal on the left hand sink. Full sink seal failure. Gallons of yucky water, and me in my sock feet. Gross. Refuse to study after clean up. Life is stupid. 

Observe the air that exists between the thing coming out of the bottom of the sink and the thing that should be taking all the gross sink water out to sea. Or wherever gross sink water goes. 

Day 2: Study and Assessment lab. No issues. 

Day 3: Study and Skills lab. No issues. I'm feeling pretty on top of things. I am not worried at all about my Pathophysiology test on Friday. 

Day 4: Study from 10:30 to 4:30 and get through one stupid chapter. I realize I know nothing about Pathophysiology, and I am going to absolutely fail my stupid test. Call husband and remind him to replace the back seat in his Jeep so we can all go to our friends' house for dinner. He informs me that he has misplaced the hardware for the backseat, and he can't install it. I tell him to make it as safe as possible for me to sit back there. I ride on a folding camping seat on the floorboard. Very classy. We eat delicious burgers with smoked Gouda and peppered bacon, sweet potato fries, and a yummy salad. And, we laugh a lot with our friends. Then, on our return home, proceed to fight the traditional Thursday night math homework fight with our son. Both my son and my husband have lost their tempers and their minds. In the middle of this I look at my phone and see I've missed a call from my sister. There is also a text message from her that says, "Call me, please." This is not going to be good. I call her back, and she tells me that our dad is in the ER and there is the possibility he has had a stroke. They are going to be performing tests, CT scans, MRIs, etc. She'll call me when she knows more. I'm not sure how to tell my husband and son this. They can tell I'm upset. The fighting stops. The atmospheric pressure drops in our house. Our house feels somber. We pray for my dad. 

I stay up late working on school stuff. I talk to my dad around 12:30, and he is on morphine. I wonder if a stroke would cause lasting pain that would require morphine. I don't think I have all the information. I don't say any of this to my dad. I am more worried after I hang up the phone.  

Day 5: Test day. I'm definitely not prepared. My mind is elsewhere. I keep checking my phone, but I have to turn it off during the test. I am anxious. I start my test, and I know almost all the answers. I can reason my way through the ones I'm not sure about. We did a test analysis immediately after the test was finished. I made a 94. What the what?! I'm shocked. 

My school day finishes at 4:00, and I wait until 5:30 to call my sister. She is en route to the hospital and will call me when she gets there and has news. At 6:00 she calls and sounds upset. She asks if I'm at home and can talk. My body is very tense. I close myself into my bedroom and crawl into my bed. I'm prepared for the very worst news. She tells me that the MRI revealed several lesions on my dad's brain. His melanoma has insidiously returned and metastasized to his brain. Jesus. 

I don't know how to tell my son. He loves his grandfather so much. His Grampa (Gumpa, The Green Goblin, Pick). But, I do. I am crying into my husband's chest, and I explain what I know. Our hearts are breaking. So slowly. But, we get to spend time with him. We get to say goodbye. We may still see a miracle. God, please, make him better. 

I start making arrangements to travel to Atlanta. My husband is taking me to pick up a rental car when I call my mother. She happens to be in Charleston, not far from Savannah, and offers to come pick us up. She is going to cut her trip short and rush home also. I take her up on this, and my son and I drive up with her that night. My husband will join us the next day so he can make arrangements for the dogs. 

Day 6-7: We leave for the hospital in the morning, stopping on the way for breakfast and coffee for everybody, and clean clothes for my dad. Mom, my sister, my son and I all hang out with my dad for a few hours. Then I spend Saturday night and Sunday alone with him. He is so slow. He seems so much older than the last time I saw him. I don't know if it's the cancer or the drugs. I am trying to stay positive in front of him, but I am so sad. I help him with his food, and I sneak down to the family waiting room to get him good coffee. I try unsuccessfully to study for the Assessment test I have on Monday. I just hang out with my dad. My in-laws drop off a rental car for me, and my son and I leave around 5:00. My husband stays behind to help my sister take care of some business. We get home close to 11:00, and I let my son sleep in bed with me. We are both sad, and scared, and don't want to be alone. 

I'll return to Atlanta on Friday after school. So I can hug this wonderful man so tight. 

   

My First Check Off, Thankfully Not My Last

This was a short week. We had Monday off for MLK day. This leaves me with the feeling that I still don't really know how rough this is all going to be. Two easy weeks in a row. 

I say easy, but . . . Wednesday I had my first skills check off. This was the first opportunity I had to lose my spot in nursing school, and the amount of internal pressure I felt was immense. I'll jump to the end of the story to save you all from feeling anxious for me. We had to make a 90 to pass, and I made a 97. I passed, so breathe easy as you read on. The skills we had to perform were simple enough: oral temperature, pulse, respiration rate, blood pressure. You are awarded points for successfully completing all the various tasks. Some of your points are dependent on simple things that you have to do before or between tasks. Walk in, wash your hands, introduce yourself, make sure you've got the correct patient by checking an imaginary armband on your partner, have them tell you their full name and date of birth, provide privacy by drawing an imaginary curtain closed . . . There's a lot of miming, so it's easy to forget things. I practiced all my skills as the day came closer, and I felt really confident going into that room. I had butterflies in my stomach, but I felt good. I mimed knocking on the door, and introduced myself while I was sanitizing my hands. I asked my lab partner for her name and birth date, and when she said her birthday my lab instructor said, "Your birthday is July 17th?! Mine is July 21st! We're both cancers." My lab partner responded with something about Leos, and birthdays, and I just stood there, feeling like a deer in headlights. I was completely disrupted. I didn't know what I had just said, or what I was supposed to say next. I was lost and confused. My heart started pounding, and I could feel the pressure in my head building. The clock on the wall that had been unobtrusive before was suddenly pounding in my head. It was all I could hear. I took a deep breath to try and center myself, and regain my focus. Out loud I said, "What did I just do? I checked her armband. What do I need to do next? Temperature? Temperature. Okay." I grabbed the electric thermometer from the table in front of me. I narrated my actions, and then realized I'd forgotten to mime closing the curtain for privacy. I backtracked, and closed the curtain, then proceeded. We're supposed to count pulse and respirations at the same time, but I couldn't see my partner's chest rise at all. I asked if I could crouch down so I could see better, and started over. Then I realized I'd forgotten to ask my partner all kinds of background information about whether she'd had anything hot, cold or caffeinated in the last thirty minutes, her activity level, her emotional state, smoking . . . ugh! I hopped up and asked her all the appropriate questions. I had been derailed, and I was still not back on track. My blood pressure was skyrocketing. I was starting to feel ill. I could no longer find my partner's pulse because all I could feel was my own blood throbbing in my fingers. I switched arms. I found her pulse, but couldn't consistently distinguish between hers and mine. I flubbed finding her estimated systolic reading. Which meant I didn't inflate the blood pressure cuff high enough when I was trying to get her actual blood pressure. I had to do it over. I was so far off that my instructor had to tell me how high to inflate the cuff so I could get an accurate reading. I felt faint. I don't know if I was documenting everything correctly because I felt like I was becoming detached from my hands. I got an accurate blood pressure, and although I did it in a schizophrenic manner, I managed to do and say all the right things in the end. Praise the Lord. 

I felt absolutely ill for the rest of the day. My head was pounding. My stomach hurt. My resources were depleted, and my muscles all felt weak and exhausted. As soon as I got home I climbed into bed. I think I ate dinner with my family. I must have helped my son with his homework. It's all kind of a blur. Thursdays are my day off, and I spent this one in my pajamas. I had a decent cry -- the first of many, I'm sure. Thank God it's over. Next time should be easier. 

Week One Recap

Week one of nursing school is in the books! My class schedule is far from overwhelming, although I already feel like I'm behind in my studies. My labs are intimidating, but fun. I am in both Skills and Assessment labs with seven other girls. We range in age from very young (twenty, maybe?) to fifty-seven. Everybody has a good attitude, and seems encouraging and helpful. Most importantly, I feel very smart in my uniform.

Meanwhile, life continues . . .

We are living on a shoestring budget right now. We absolutely are not prepared for disaster of any kind. And, what should happen the day before nursing school began, but the failure of my car's transmission. I have a wonderful friend who was also accepted to the nursing program, and whose schedule is consistent with mine, who has been taking me to and from school. So, I've got my ride covered. Whew! I foresaw scheduling conflicts on the horizon, so I made arrangements for my son to ride the bus to and from school. His rides are covered. Double whew! So, despite the compounding chaos that was doing its best to derail me, I have kept calm. I know, without a doubt, that this path I'm on is the right one, and nothing is going to deter me.

I have a wonderful family, my own as well as my husband's, who have been supportive beyond measure. Last semester I realized work and school were absolutely not going to be able to coincide, so I committed myself to student loans. Gulp. I'm currently in a state of delaying bill payment while I wait for this semester's money to be dispensed. For two months now I've been dependent on these financial miracles that keep coming along -- like manna from Heaven. For instance: I spent $120 on uniforms which weren't ready on time for my first class, so I popped my head into the office of one of the admins, and asked her if she knew what I should do. She asked me what size I need and produced two uniform tops for me! I was able to return the tops I purchased once they arrived at the uniform store, and then there was enough money for another week of life!

Last week, out of the clear blue, I received an email from an old friend who I've only had superficial interaction with for years. Out of respect for her privacy I won't give too many details about our interactions, but she and her husband offered to contribute to my school costs. The exact nature of their contribution remains a surprise, and it's honestly irrelevant. The way God moves in the world blows my mind. I haven't asked for help. I haven't started a Go Fund Me page. I just needed this very specific kind of help, and far away, in a person from my past, God stirred something inside of them that saw my need and acted on it. I am overwhelmed and incredibly grateful. 

My family's needs are consistently being met. I feel utterly cared for. I am learning to let go of worry.  

"Do not worry then, saying, 'What will we eat?' or 'What will we drink?' or 'What will we wear for clothing?" . . . "But seek first His kingdom and His righteousness, and all these things will be added to you. So do not worry about tomorrow; for tomorrow will care for itself. Each day has enough trouble of its own."

The Purge

I've been organizing my life in preparation to start nursing school. So much junk has been thrown away. Bags have been packed and taken to Goodwill. My desk has been cleared and dusted. Years worth of paperwork that I have been neglecting has been sorted and filed. I realized that I have been running short on room in my filing cabinet. There was one folder that was packed particularly densely. The tax folder. I pulled it out, and discovered that my records go back to 2002. I googled: How long do I need to keep my tax returns? And, straight from the IRS website, I got the answer three years (there are reasons to keep them longer, but I don't have any of those reasons). Why have I been holding onto all this junk?

My family encountered some financial drama when I was a kid. Even though I am an adult, and I'm perfectly aware of how much money I have in my account, I still get a nervous feeling whenever I swipe my card at the grocery store. I just know it's going to decline my card. I know I'm going to have to leave all my groceries melting in their bags, and walk out embarrassed. I know the IRS is going to audit me one of these days. Even though I have only filed simple tax returns for almost my whole life. There's nothing I do that should raise a red flag, but I still have saved every single tax document of my entire adult married life. Since 2002. This morning I have done something huge. I just took every tax document from 2002 to 2010, and threw it in a burn pile. Okay, so I haven't actually burned anything yet. I might publish this and then run and rescue everything, and put it all back neatly in the filing cabinet. But, I think I'm ready to say goodbye to all that rubbish. I think I'm going to be okay.    

I am going to get control of my life. I am not going to be perpetually surrounded by chaos. I might be surrounded by whimpering Labradors, and mountains of laundry, and sixth grade math homework, and VA nonsense, but I am going to stop giving into irrational fears, and throw away garbage if that is what it is. And, I'll hide underneath my headphones to block out the sound of the Labradors. 

Scholarships

My husband is a disabled combat veteran, which everyone seems to think should provide me with some benefits of my own. It doesn't. A whole mess of problems that are a pain in the rear to deal with, and incredibly daunting bureaucratic processes designed to make getting help so difficult it's not even worth the trouble. Trying to go back to school was difficult. My husband's disability income is straightened out now, but for a while the only income my family had was my waitress' salary. I finally got back to school a year and a half ago. I've been slowly chipping away at my prerequesites for the nursing program. I've made getting into a nursing program one of my top pritorites. Maaaybe I've neglected some housework, and perhaps I haven't made a decent meal for my family in all this time, but I've made straight As!

As soon as I found out I was in the program I started scouring the internet for scholarship opportunities. Because, like I said, there are no education benefits for wives of disabled veterans (unless they are totally and permanantly disabled). I found scholarships that I'm eligible for because my husband was a Ranger, because he is a Bronze Star recipient, because my grandfather was at Pearl Harbor when it was attacked, because he is a Distinguished Flying Cross recipient, etc. There are a few things out there if you really start ferreting around. The big deal one, though, is that there is a Nurse Corps (like the Peace Corps), which offers all manner of scholarship, grant or loan repayment opportunities in exchange for working in an underserved community for a certain period of time. All the time that I spent searching "nurse scholarships" this never came up for me. Maybe they keep it on the down low so they don't actually have to give away too much money?

Before applying for the program I had a few questions. I've known people who joined the Peace Corps, requesting they be sent someplace in Asia and expecting an assignment like Thailand, only to be sent to outer Mongolia for a year. I wanted to make sure I had a little bit of control over where I was employed. I just got off the phone with a very helpful person with the Nurse Corps (www.hrsa.gov) who assured me that I am able to choose where I will work as long as it meets the requirement of being in a Health Professional Shortage Area. I just need to make sure that the licensure I receive in Georgia will be transferrable across state lines (specifically in Alaska). I'm getting so excited about my future!

Mathematics and Labradors and Books, Oh My!

Two days from now I'll be at orientation for nursing school. Tonight, I am entrenched in a mathematics battlefield with my eleven year-old son. He is in tears. And yelling at me. A lot. I can feel my blood pressure in my eyeballs. So, it's high, right? I guess I'll find out soon enough. My husband is being incredibly patient and helpful, and is somehow able to make 6th grade math make sense for my son when I feel like my eyeballs are about to burst out of my head. And, he doesn't seem to think I'm being a bad mom. God bless him.

Earlier today I bought my packet of books for the semester to the tune of $773.25. I honestly thought it would be more books. I feel like I've seen my friends' stacks of books when they started nursing school, and it looked like the Tower of Babel. Just reaching on into Heaven. I'm not fooling myself into thinking this is going to be easy, but my stack just isn't that intimidating. Here's Pepper (one of the four labradors I live with (does anybody want to buy a labrador?)) making a cameo with all my books:       

                                                                               

The sink is full of dishes, but helping the sixth-grader really took it out of me. I'm boycotting the rest of my responsibilities. So, we put the math away for the night, and as my son was climbing into bed he announced that one of the dogs had puked in his room. Of course it did.