The Observer

Ok, just so you know, I'm about to get all instrospective on you. You were warned. Here we go.

When I was a kid, I was definitely a day dreamer.  My mom always teased me that I was always off in my own little world. Lost in thought. Who knows where.

Not a whole lot changed in adulthood, although my day dreams changed from imagining I was a mermaid to pondering the complexities and idiosyncrasies of the human condition. (Mermaid phase was way awesomer by the way).  Along with this tendancy comes something I've considered less desirable.  I'm so skilled at exiting the real world to roam the isles of the abstract, that sometimes I've had trouble connecting to reality.

At times it felt like I lived in a bubble. Constantly bumping into and interacting with life, but kept from really connecting with it by something thin and invisible.  Watching people and events pass by me like a movie, never quite able to emotionally engage them as I'd like.  Sometimes when something big happened (good or bad) I'd have to talk myself into the emotions I should be feeling. ("This is really good, be excited." or "This is really sad, feel sad.") With more or less success.  It's made it hard for me to be a truly empathetic person.  How can I imagine what someone else is feeling if I can hardly feel the right things myself?

Which is why God in His great and merciful wisdom made me a wife and a mother, even though I never felt passionate about becoming either.  My kids especially have sliced through my bubble like nothing else could.  As a mom I've felt emotions at extremes I didn't know existed.  The gut squeezing, adoring affection.  The fist clenching frustration. Love, fear, anger, joy, laughter,empathy. All exploding my sepia toned world into glorious multicolor.

I can't even say I knew it happened. It was such a whirlwind, entering into parenthood. Hardly time to think about the changes swirling around you and inside you.  It wasn't until a few months ago that I realized the difference.  The frustrating disconnect, the hazy connection I seemed to sometimes have with reality, were suddenly memories. I can't remember the last time I stood in the shower thinking about how weird existence is and struggling to feel that it's all real.  I guess I've been too busy. Too busy waking up at the sound of my daughter's feet sneaking into our room at night, hoping to be pulled up into bed with mom and dad.  Too busy kissing soft little cheeks and having dance parties before bath time. Too busy reading stories and singing bedtime songs with two soft little heads snuggled beneath my chin.

This more than any other thing has made me a better friend, nurse, person.  Helped me find a confidence I didn't have before.  Forcing me out of my own head to discover that I can connect to the real world, maybe even have an impact on it.  Growing up I thought I would be an adventurer, living in a remote grass hut helping the poor.  But God knew that what I really needed to be was a mother.  Because before that happened, I wasn't present enough to help anyone.

Abortion, Prostitution, and Belief

It isn't my general aim on this blog to wax controversial, but I'm having some thoughts, and I think I'll hash them out here. Objections? No? Okay, I'll continue.  I do welcome feedback, by the way, but please do be nice.  I'm actually rather sensitive. 

So abortion is a hot politic issue.  It's also an issue I encounter somewhat commonly at work.  I had a patient (beautiful, young) once years ago who had 16 abortions. 16! Talk about fertile. And not so handy with contraceptives. I've also had some women post abortions with pain issues or other complications. And it's something I think about a lot.  I may rabbit trail a bit for a while, but it'll all tie together, I promise. (Maybe).

So yes, I'm a Christian. And no, I don't think America should be a theocracy. I don't want to "force" my beliefs on anyone. I think power and religion (any religion) are historically a not so bueno combo.  But I don't think we can escape the fact that what we believe (be it atheist, Muslim, christian), affects everything in some way. Because it shapes our view of reality and of what is important. We can separate church and state, but we cannot separate belief and legislation.  Because laws ultimately spring from some sort of worldview. We don't think killing another person because we want to is a good way to go, so we make a law against it.

Abortion is one of those issues that has no easy resolution because it is tied so tightly with worldview.  I have the belief that humans are made in God's image, and as such every human being is intrinsically valuable.  No one else has to value a life for it to be valuable, because it is valuable to Someone who has a much more weighty opinion than the rest of us. So even a little developing life is intrinsically valuable, even if it has no value to the woman carrying it or to society at large. Which would make ending that life murder. But if we are all just the product of chance and chaos, than our only real value comes from the people that value us. We are not, in fact, intrinsically valuable.  So of course, if I'm a woman who has become pregnant with a baby I don't want and am not ready for, my needs and desires trump the right of the fetus, or as a medical blogger I follow words it, "clump of non sentient cells".

Some of the arguments for abortion talk about the fact that if abortion is illegal, women will still seek abortions, and will end up having unprofessional, "back alley" abortions, with high risks for complications.  Another argument has to do with a woman's right to choose. It is her body, shouldn't she have a say in whether or not she wants to go through pregnancy and labor for a baby she doesn't want?

I'm going to take those arguments and apply them to another (I think less controversial) issue, just out of curiosity, to see if they hold the same weight.  Take prostitution.  I think (hope) most of us would say that prostitution is something that should probably be illegal.  We would most agree that it is degrading to women. But let's look at it from a different perspective.  My body is my own, right?  Do I not, as a woman, have the right, if I want to, to use it to make money?  If I want to sell sex, why not?  You might say it is degrading, but what if I don't agree?  What if I feel that it is an asset I have and would like to turn into a profit?

Of course, we could point out that prostitution is dangerous.  There is a higher than normal risk for abuse, murder, and contracting of STDs.  But should that make it illegal?  Wouldn't it be better to take prostitution, legalize it, then set standards for businesses that want to run it?  Mandatory protection. Panic buttons for when a client gets out of hand, background checks to screen out violent offenders.   Is it a better idea to throw prostitutes in prison? For exercising their right over their own body?  Does the argument that we should not make abortion illegal because it will mean we open the door for more dangerous types of abortions and because we would then have to criminalize the women who have them, hold the same weight for prostitution? If prostitution is illegal it is more dangerous for women - because some women will be prostitutes anyways.  Isn't the effect on women what we care about?  Or is there a sense of morality still picking at the back of our brains that we can't seem to shake?

We can't necessarily argue against prostitution by saying it is degrading to women. Because if a woman who has control over her own body does not think it is degrading, who are we to say it is? I think abortion is degrading to women.  Our bodies are in every way designed to nurture and protect life - what could be more anti - feminist than for us to instead choose to destroy that life we are naturally intended to protect?  I don't know.

Belief should never be something that is legislated (you must believe x, y, z).  But our worldviews will always effect the way we decide to run our society. The point I'm trying to make is not that I think prostitution should be legal (I don't), but that sometimes when we carry our worldviews out to their logical conclusions, they take us places we didn't expect.
Did this all make sense? I'm not sure. I guess that's why I call it 'ramblings'.

Turning the Other Cheek

Sometimes people can be difficult.  Sometimes they can be downright obnoxious and offensive and mean.  You see this a lot in situations where peer pressure doesn't dictate that you be treated with a certain level of politeness that is generally the social norm: namely, customer service.  Waitresses, you know what I'm talking about!  Nurses, we get the double dose.

Being sick strips people of the usual pressure they feel to behave a certain way.  You feel justified in being short tempered or down right rude.  You feel that it is okay for you to vent your worry and frustration by being mean to the people who are trying to help you.  I have never in any circumstance of my life been treated as badly as I have been as a nurse by my patients.  And I did a fair share of waitressing.

Sometimes it's easier to shake it off. Sometimes it makes my blood boil.  Last week I had a patient who had no end of edgy, sarcastic, pointed responses to every question or offer I made her.  I had started the day with determination to be extra kind to my patients, and right off the bat, she was seriously testing that resolve.  I could almost physically feel the ball of snarky comments I wanted to fire back bubbling in my throat, to try and show her how rude she was being.   Although I resisted, my desire to give her exemplary care certainly dissolved. Do the bare minimum, get her out of here. Hope someone else answers her call light first.

After having this unpleasant woman for a few hours, I started thinking about that statement of Jesus to turn the other cheek. "If someone hits you on the left cheek, turn to him the other also." I have never been physically struck in the face (yet).  But I have been verbally assaulted countless times in this not so romantic business of caring for the sick.  So what would it look like for me to be a nurse who 'turns the other cheek'?  I guess it means not responding in kind.  It's how I respond that matters to God. Someone being rude and unkind does not give me a free pass to be rude and unkind.  I don't get to decide to not be merciful to someone just because they really get under my skin.

And you never know.  You can't see into people's hearts and lives. Maybe your kindness in response to their rudeness is just the catalyst needed for the seed of God's grace to take root in their heart.  Because isn't that the gospel in a nutshell? We who were hostile towards God are brought into relationship with Him by His own gift of love in the person of Jesus and His sacrifice.  I hope that I will more often remember the gospel and live it out in the way I respond to hostile patients.

Vapors

"It is better to go to a house of mourning than to go to a house of feasting,

for death is the destiny of every man;

the living should take this to heart."

Ecclesiastes 7:2

I've seen a lot of people die.  It's kind of part of the job.  A lot of times they are elderly, but often enough they aren't. There are certain things that unnerve me after someone has passed.  Things like the carefully applied eyeliner and eye shadow, or the trace of Cologne.  Things that say this person didn't expect to die today. They got up, they made their attempts to make themselves attractive to the world, because that still mattered, because they thought they had more time.  But they didn't.

We all know death is inevitable. That somehow, somewhere it will find us.  But it certainly doesn't feel that way.  The little inconveniences and frustrations of my day feel quite significant, because I feel like I will keep on going. But as one writer has said, "Men are like grass, and their glory like the flowers of the field, which is here today and tomorrow is thrown into the fire."

Because we feel like death is far away and abstract, and that life will keep going as it has, we often put off things that really matter.  And put a lot of time and energy into things that don't matter at all.  I'm not one of the people that will tell you to have as much fun as you possibly can because tomorrow might be your last.  As I mentioned in a previous post, we are either here on purpose or on accident. If we are hear on purpose, the most important question we can ask is Who purposed us, and for what purpose?  Questions of this sort prick the back of our consciousness as we go about our daily business,  but often little real time or thought is put into the answer.  Because there will be plenty of time down the road to explore that question. Right?

Maybe we were raised in church and associate ourselves loosely with Christian faith, and intend to get back into it sometime. Later. When we've had some experiences and done what we wanted for a while, we'll start looking at that again.  But we are vapors.  Our physical lives are fragile and temporary.  If there is such a thing as spirit and eternity, we'd be wise not to neglect the part that will last while spending our time and gold on what will soon be dust.

In My Weakness

There are two jobs out there that require more from you than I'm willing to bet just about any other profession. That have the capability to be incredibly meaningful and rewarding, and incredibly draining and exhausting. That take from you mentally, physically, emotionally, and spiritually.  That inspire you with high ideals while simultaneously exposing all your weaknesses.  Two of what I would (personally) consider some of the toughest jobs on earth.

#1- Motherhood
#2- Nursing

In that order.  I work 12 hour shifts in the second busiest ER in Washington state, and I will readily testify that being a mom is definitely the harder of the two.  I consider my two shifts a week to be a moment of rest and respite from the hectic (yet fun) world of raising my two little toddlers.  At least at work no one follows me into the bathroom.

I've seen a lot of commonalities between these two worlds of mine in the last couple of years.  Things that move me and inspire me, things that test me and try me.  In both worlds there are people who are directly effected by my mood. By my level of patience, kindness, and gentleness.  I like to think that how I feel is about me and primarily effects me.  But this is not the case.  My short fuse directly effects my children and how they learn to respond to the world.  My laziness can keep me from giving my kids or my patients the best care I can give them.  The way I distance myself from emotions can keep me from being able to reach out to hurting people in a way that could be meaningful.

In both worlds there is a constant and steady stream of need.  From my little ones' hands constantly grabbing at me to the call lights that keep going off when you're busy.  There is a constant stream of emotion: fear, frustration, anger, sadness, all pulling from you and testing your ability to respond in ways that are gracious and helpful, not impatient or demeaning. And in both worlds, there is the constant opportunity to make a difference.  To bring or teach love and mercy, grace and compassion.  And in both, I too often get in the way of myself.  I get distracted by my own desires, however shallow, or my laziness, and I fail to do the good I could.

My worlds have both been tools of God's grace in my life for inspiration and exposure.  Calling to me to higher heights, while showing me that I can't make it there on my strength alone.  Showing me how truly weak I am, but also showing me how God can graciously use a weak, and earthen vessel to carry His precious treasures to a hurting world.  I'm constantly reminded how on my own I can get by. I can make it to the end of the shift, I can take decent care of my kids.  But to be the mom and the nurse that I really in my heart of hearts want to be, and to do it with energy and joy, I need more than just me.  I need a whole lot of the One who made me.

A Place on Earth

 These are not my words, but I feel like they could be. Just swap "man" for "mom".  The song is beautiful, if you want to hear it look for Fernando Ortega, "A Place on Earth".

Find me a place on the Earth
Where a weary man can rest
And listen for Your voice in the turning seasons.
A quiet place in the world
Where I can bow and confess,
That I fear where you have brought me, Mysterious God.

All of my life
You have been with me,
My comfort in loneliness
My hope in the dark.
All of my life
Lord, please stay with me!
Be my sustaining breath,
Guardian of my heart. 


My days are passing by like falling stars
That blaze across the night sky
Then they are gone.
But Father, at Your side
I will never be afraid,
For You have held all my days
In the palm of Your hand.

All of my life
You have been with me,
My comfort in loneliness
My hope in the dark.
All of my life,
Lord please stay with me!
Be my sustaining breath,
Guardian of my heart.

Everyone Hates Needles

I think the one phrase I have probably heard almost every day of my nursing career is: "Just so you know...I really hate needles." Male, female, red, yellow, black or white, they all get that same expression. The one with poorly masked anxiety and just a little hint of hostility. Something there in the base of our instinctive nature has a hard time not feeling a smite bit hostile towards the person walking toward us with a sharp, pointy object that they intend to jab into your flesh.

IVs are definitely anxiety producing for patients, but little known to the common world is that they can be anxiety producing for the nurses too.  Every part of your interactions with your patient can approach flawless, but if you don't get that IV on the number one try and do it with a minimal amount of pain, you will probably be branded a semi sub par nurse in your patient's esteem.  Especially if you happen to be a new nurse. Because we all know practice makes perfect, and if you haven't had all the practice, it's not going to be so perfect.

Finally, years into my time as a nurse, I can say I can get 99.1% of my IVs on the first time.  Nothing beats the feeling when a person tells you, "I'm really hard to get IVs on. They never get it the first try" and then you do and they give you that sideways look and exclaim, "wow, you're really good at that!"  Suppressing the sudden desire to do a little curtsy and say, "yes, yes I am!" you instead humbly reply, "I'm glad you think so."  But on the flip side, nothing is more humiliating than the time you don't get that first IV and the person smuggly states, "They've never had trouble starting IVs on me before..."  Then you have to suppress the burning desire to explain your good record and justify your skill as a nurse, though really, it won't do any good.

For those of you non medical readers out there, there may come a day when you will also have to suffer under the point of a metal needle, and in that day, keep in mind a few tidbits of advice. 

1. Don't hover.  If your family member or child is getting an IV, standing closely to the nurse and watching their every move is only decreasing the odds that they'll succeed under your crushing psychological pressure
2.  Phrases like, "You better get this the first time" and "You're going to get this the first time, right?"  actually decrease the odds that the nurse will succeed the first time
3.Please resist the urge to sigh or groan if the nurse has to try again. Trust me, they already feel bad and it won't help them be successful the second time round.
4. Aggression does not bring out the best in anybody, if anything it makes them sloppy because they get nervous
5. Resist the instinct that tells you to pull your arm away with that first shock of pain.  Trust me, it only makes things worse.
6.  Little kids are excused for screaming. Adults, come on. It hurts, but don't scream.  It makes you look a wee bit pathetic.  Take the manly route, and just pass out instead.

So we all hate needles, even yours truly.  But I'm glad they exist, because they do help save a heck of a lot of lives.  So try to remember that the next time a nurse is walking towards you with the gleaming mini javalin of steel, and try to look at them as friend, not foe.