So as I sit here on a rainy night, alone, listening to Pandora I can't help but have a bit of de ja vu. I looked back to my blog from March 30th last year because then I was on this self healing prescription that required me to journal and exercise daily, but its deleted, which means it was so sad or angry I decided to erase it for posterity's sake when my life became this amazing happy place. Still, comparing then to now makes me laugh. I went from counting days I hadn't cried, to counting the days left until we get married. I did it again, because really, its funny to have known my thoughts then and to know how very wrong I was.
I took a large step recently. I got over it. The "it" if which I speak need not be named, as the only person who reads this knows what it means. Needless to say, parts of me, whether I fully realized it or not carried this "it" with me deep inside to break out and torture myself when I was a bit too happy or comfy with how things were going, just to knock myself down a bit. ( I'm a glutton for punishment any day of the week.)
But as I sat mulling over wedding vows and counting down days, I realized I needed to let this go. As my significant other has told me over and over, nothing happened, there was nothing to worry about and it was time to forget it. But stubborn me likes to pick at scabs whenever possible and so I've kept this one from healing. But since I was not allowed to pick in Lent, maybe I was able to let this alone long enough to forgive and move on. So I mended the bridge that I had been pretty adamant about burning. I made the last step in my forgiveness. And I put myself out there....to be trampled on and rejected to also give that "it" a chance at their own portion of closure. And I was quite pleasantly surprised that time does heal all wounds and in the end everything was fine and dandy. So yay for those things.
We have made mistakes in the past. I will probably never be able to say they were of an equal magnitude for the pain and hurt they inflicted but then again I can only feel from my perspective and so I'm not very objective. But what I do know is that the hurt has been erased daily with love, sweetness, kindness, thoughtfulness, silliness, tickling and plans for a happy future. I'm actually thankful for feeling that devastation this time last year, because it makes this year so much better. It was another chance for me to step back and look at myself, my life and evolve into a better, more grown up individual with more to give to others.
And so, even after a heart wrenching day ended by rolling my horribly debilitated patient through a hallway with his in denial wife at our side, like a funeral procession, with holy water and all just to make him smile and give him a change of the scenery in his hospital room, I cannot wait to fall deeper in love with the man I have chosen to spend my life with. I can't wait to love him so much that I cannot give up hope even when it completely opposes logic and reason. I love Brian with everything I have now, but I know love changes (he tells me this and is always right so...). If there is one benefit of working where I work, it is seeing how love matures. How lovers become friends. How spouses remain friends. How back scratching seems to feel like sex when you are 75+. How humor between a husband and wife is what gets you past 20 years of marriage. How holding onto any part of your significant other creates a connection, whether its their hand or toe. I'm so excited that I have someone to share that love with and I hope we are blessed with many more days together.
The end. I know I'm a dork :)
Tuesday, March 30, 2010
Wednesday, March 24, 2010
Showered With Love
This Saturday, March 20th, 2010 (perfect date), was my bridal shower. Brian and I received amazing gifts for our new house. ON Tuesday we got an e-mail that shows hope we might be moving into said new house sometime soon! Shannon came for my shower, as well as my family from NY and even my aunt from Florida. It was a long happy day of spending time with my favorite people, opening presents, playing games and eating yummy tea party food. :)
Thursday, March 18, 2010
Where is My Nose?
So this week has been a pretty horrible work week. Not only was it the first week without the help of my wonderful student, but I have been banished to the second floor twice. Normally, I don't mind the second floor, but the ratio of my patients in ICU has been extreme. The ICU is a sad and depressing place. It is sometimes reserved for severely ill people who didn't have insurance who have no real hope of getting better, but can't be sent to a long term care facility because they have no means to pay for it.
Its is really sad to work with a young, non-responsive individual doing passive range of motion (PROM) that you know is doing nothing but maintaining their body's joints while their insides and minds turn to bacteria infected mush secondary to infections that get spread throughout long hospital stays. In the case you think I am being over dramatic, I would tell you definitely not. Two people died in ICU on Monday. Not my patients, but still, two people left the world in one morning which is horribly sad.
And the sad realization is that everyone dies eventually. The fact that our department check the obituaries daily, and knows at least one person a day. I have had the honor of knowing about 10 people who have died, and I have only worked at this job for 5 months. I guess everyone comes to a point in their life when they realize their mortality, but working where I do, I see every possibility for what will become of me if I make it past 50. What my skin and body parts will look like. Different variations of how I may act. Will I be the sharp as a tack, cranky person who yells at everyone, the pleasantly confused one who can't find my nose, or some combination personalities on the spectrum. I can only hope to continue to have a healthy relationship/ partnership with Brian where we care for each other emotionally and physically so that when we are in out 80/90s we can take care of each other. And I can only hope that my children are kind souls who are willing to help their parents with things like grocery shopping and cleaning, because old people have such a hard time with those things.
And also, the amount of good I feel I am doing for some of these people is limited. I know it is my job, and I am overall preventing pneumonia, constipation, pressure ulcers and deconditioning (things I tell my patients and myself minutely). But what good does that really do when the person is dying of 3 different kinds of cancer and has 4 weeks to live. Who am I to say they are unsafe to go home with their husband of 63 years just because they might fall and fracture a hip? I know it is my professional obligation to say they need to go to rehab or have 24 hour help (the last of which most people cannot afford) because it is my fault of they go home and fall, but sometimes you feel like this horrible monster in doing what is "best" for them. Some days, when I am told a person is put on comfort care (hospice) and no longer needs PT, I am so relieved, because I can stop torturing these poor souls. Sometimes I wish I could just take these people home with me for a while, especially when they have no spouse, family or friends and are alone in the world.
Most days I love my job and can see the good I do. Especially getting post-op surgeries moving or helping really good strokes get sent to the proper rehab they need. It is the frequent fliers of the trade, with their sad stories and constant trips back to the hospital that male me so sad, because in the end you are doing nothing but taking them out of their comfy bed and sticking them in a chair, where they are likely to be left by the nursing staff until bedtime.
On happy notes: I am getting married to my love in 58 days. My face looks somewhat better. My dentist office did my teeth cleaning early. My bridal shower is this weekend. And my family and friends are healthy and happy.
Its is really sad to work with a young, non-responsive individual doing passive range of motion (PROM) that you know is doing nothing but maintaining their body's joints while their insides and minds turn to bacteria infected mush secondary to infections that get spread throughout long hospital stays. In the case you think I am being over dramatic, I would tell you definitely not. Two people died in ICU on Monday. Not my patients, but still, two people left the world in one morning which is horribly sad.
And the sad realization is that everyone dies eventually. The fact that our department check the obituaries daily, and knows at least one person a day. I have had the honor of knowing about 10 people who have died, and I have only worked at this job for 5 months. I guess everyone comes to a point in their life when they realize their mortality, but working where I do, I see every possibility for what will become of me if I make it past 50. What my skin and body parts will look like. Different variations of how I may act. Will I be the sharp as a tack, cranky person who yells at everyone, the pleasantly confused one who can't find my nose, or some combination personalities on the spectrum. I can only hope to continue to have a healthy relationship/ partnership with Brian where we care for each other emotionally and physically so that when we are in out 80/90s we can take care of each other. And I can only hope that my children are kind souls who are willing to help their parents with things like grocery shopping and cleaning, because old people have such a hard time with those things.
And also, the amount of good I feel I am doing for some of these people is limited. I know it is my job, and I am overall preventing pneumonia, constipation, pressure ulcers and deconditioning (things I tell my patients and myself minutely). But what good does that really do when the person is dying of 3 different kinds of cancer and has 4 weeks to live. Who am I to say they are unsafe to go home with their husband of 63 years just because they might fall and fracture a hip? I know it is my professional obligation to say they need to go to rehab or have 24 hour help (the last of which most people cannot afford) because it is my fault of they go home and fall, but sometimes you feel like this horrible monster in doing what is "best" for them. Some days, when I am told a person is put on comfort care (hospice) and no longer needs PT, I am so relieved, because I can stop torturing these poor souls. Sometimes I wish I could just take these people home with me for a while, especially when they have no spouse, family or friends and are alone in the world.
Most days I love my job and can see the good I do. Especially getting post-op surgeries moving or helping really good strokes get sent to the proper rehab they need. It is the frequent fliers of the trade, with their sad stories and constant trips back to the hospital that male me so sad, because in the end you are doing nothing but taking them out of their comfy bed and sticking them in a chair, where they are likely to be left by the nursing staff until bedtime.
On happy notes: I am getting married to my love in 58 days. My face looks somewhat better. My dentist office did my teeth cleaning early. My bridal shower is this weekend. And my family and friends are healthy and happy.
Tuesday, March 9, 2010
Crazy Talk
Julie: "Well there is a language barrier."
Mora: "What language? Crazy Talk?"
Different pages, still very funny. Anyway, I will miss Julie, my student, horrible. She has been such a pleasure to work with and teach and I have loved helping to form another caring PT to enter this profession.
67 days until our wedding. Almost 2 and a half months to go. RSVPs still coming in which are a much more fun part of wedding planning than I anticipated. Yay for good things to come like showers and bachelor parties (for the girls and boys respectively)!
Wednesday, March 3, 2010
Count Your Blessings
This was the quote for Dr. Seuss Day. As I have been very horrible at posting and it is now 73 days until the wedding, I figured I should write something here. Why, I don't really know since no one actually reads this, but it makes me feel as though I do have some sort of life. Above is my Dr. Seuss cake...
Wedding plans are hopping along. I got my hair and make up test drive done and they looked very bride-like. Now I am just trying to stay on top of face antibiotics that make me feel sick, trying to keep up on household chores and working. One week left of my student and then I'll be working hard again :(
Anyway, life is good. Grandpa is home and somewhat healthy. I am getting married to my favorite person in 73 days. I have a good job that is rewarding if hard. We are hopefully getting our house soon and moving. And I just love my life :) In comparison to one year ago this week, I feel like I fell down a rabbit hole and ended up in a fairy tale....
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