Olie's First Christmas

This year was Olie's first Christmas. He ended up being the life of the party more than once and his gift count was right up there with my mom's! Among his mountain of gifts was a "chuck-it mini," a dog sausage treat, a squeaky toy, a stuffed gafelte fish that when squeezed says "Oy Vey" (a Hanukkah gift), and a hand made doggie quilt to match the one his mommy got.
Christmas evening, my mom, my sister, and I took Olie and went to visit Grandpa at his retirement center. Mom had brought him a home cooked Christmas dinner which he wanted to take to the dining area. Animals aren't allowed in the dining area so I stayed with Olie in grandpa's room. He was a little squirmy so I closed the door and put him on the floor to let him roam about a little. A few minutes later my sister came to the room and opened the door. Of course Olie ran out and headed straight for the dining room. He's a fast little wiener! As we chased him around the tables and into the activity room and down the halls all of the other residents where smiling and laughing. I'm glad we could provide them with some amusement... I finally caught him by diving and tackling him across a hallway.
I'm seriously considering entering him in the wiener dog races at Northwest Wienerfest this year! The winning wieners get to race for Seahawks half time show to raise money for animal rescue.

Gong...

I was in my car the other day lamenting over some difficult interpersonal communication issues I've been having with a certain individual. I'll leave most of the details out except to say that the situation has caused a near constant undercurrent of tension. Of course I thought I was the one in the right...
I was beginning to feel that the situation was hopeless when for some reason it finally dawned on me to pray about it. As I drove across the lake I admitted to God that I was clueless on this one and needed Him to give me the answer. You know what He said; love, the answer to everything is love.
Of course I couldn't just accept that at face value, I had to test the hypothesis to see if it was really true. A retrospective study design would be sufficient... So I thought of a situation and then the answer. Yep, it was love... I tried it again a few more times and each time came up with the same answer, it's true!!! (1 John 4:8 says "God is love.")
The next scripture that popped into my head was 1 Corinthians 13, aka the "love chapter."

Love is patient: Oops, missed that one...
Love is kind: Oh man...
It does not envy: hmm...
It does not boast,it is not pround,it is not rude, it is not self-seeking, it is not easily angered, it keeps no record of wrongs. Love does not delight in evil but rejoices with the truth; it always protects, always trusts, always hopes, always perseveres. Love never fails.

I was 0 for 15, God help me!

I Corinthians 13:1 says, "If I speak in tongues of men and of angels, but have not love, I am only a resounding gong or a clanging cymbal.

This song by JJ Heller says it all!

Lord, keep me from being a gong!

The Creature Gullom

Miss Myra (not her real name) was an 88 year old visually impaired woman with a history of stroke that caused her to have impaired judgement and impulsive behaviors. The other day I went into her room to help a student check her blood sugar. We found her crawling on her bed screaming profanities. Miss Myra was rather "uninhibited" in both her speech and her actions and had no trouble making her thoughts and opinions known. People dreaded her because of this. In some ways she reminded me of Gullom from Lord of the Rings.
As we left the room after checking her blood glucose, I reflected on the experience. What do people like Miss Myra have to teach us? How can we remain cool and composed when she constantly hurls insults and threats at us? How can we have compassion on her and love her as Christ loves us?
The most repulsive thing about Miss Myra is not her insults, it's not her threats, its not her disheveled appearance, it's that she reminds us of ourselves. Looking at her is like looking in a mirror. The truth is that deep inside we are all like Miss Myra. "Out of the abundance of the heart, the mouth speaks." The difference between most of us and Miss Myra is that we can filter what we are thinking to make what comes out of our mouth socially and culturally acceptable. That doesn't mean that we don't have those same wicked thoughts. Unmasked, we are all like Miss Myra; our hearts are black and shriveled. We need God and His Holy Spirit to cover us with His grace and transform us into His likeness.

Let the Games Begin

Clinicals started again this week. Thursday was my students' first day of taking care of real patients in a nursing home. Fortunately, not a tear was shed and nobody (I kept counting them) hid in the bathroom! Sometimes it's the little things...
Today as I was wondering about the units on my usual rounds, I saw one of the students hurriedly carrying a large stack of towels down the hall. I figured she was on her way to a "code brown" so I followed her to see if she needed help. We were probably 5 feet from the room when I noticed that the carpet was damp. As we approached the room we found a lady standing with her walker in inches of water and an overflowing (and I do mean overflowing) toilet. In the few minutes it took for the maintenance man to come, the entire patient room had become a lake. It was a double room so the poor woman in the other bed was literally on an island. We managed to evacuate the lady with the walker to "higher ground."
I'm thinking this is probably the only the first of many awkward bathroom stories with students. Let the games begin!

Why Pets are Therapeutic

-Research shows that petting an animal can help with relaxation, a sense of well being and lower the blood pressure.
-God created Adam and gave him charge of all the animals. It was his job to wander about the garden of Eden and name them. Humans have an innate desire to care for animals.
-Animals mostly live in the here an now. My dog Olie lives every moment to the fullest. He seems like he thinks every moment is "the best ever." Every day I get home from work he acts like I've been gone a month, it never gets old. He doesn't hold a grudge. He'll give me puppy kisses minutes after I scolded him for chewing shoes. Olie doesn't worry about tomorrow and he doesn't care if he eats the same thing everyday. Ah, the things we can learn from dogs...

God's Puppy

My friend Lisa and I seem to routinely discuss our animals... She has two cats (that she got while completing her medical residency which strengthens my argument about the pursuit a doctorate driving one to pet ownership) and I of course, have Olie (the puppy) and Kosha(the cat). Sometimes I can hear her cats purring in the background if they happen to be sitting her lap when we're on the phone.
She was describing how nice it was to have a little animal who is content just to sit next to her purr enjoying the closeness and security she provides. "I want to be God's kitty," she said. "I want to be able to be content just to be in his presence and to rest peacefully there."
"I want to be God's puppy," I added. "I want to be excited to see Him and follow Him wherever He goes walking by His side. I want to learn to take joy in pleasing Him."
The cool thing is that instead of God's puppy or God's kittie, we get to be God's children.

Puppy!!!

I've always wanted a dog but I have always been able resist getting one by telling myself my schedule was way too crazy to accommodate one, until now that is...
I was carpooling with my sisters back home from the family reunion at Lake Crescent when we happened upon a pickup truck on the side of the road with a sign that said "Puppies."
Becky, being the big sister that she is, told me I needed a puppy and promptly pulled the car over. I tried to resist, I really did; but when she handed me a puppy I knew it was all over. Before I knew it, we were making an emergency stop at WalMart in Port Angeles for puppy supplies.
Two weeks later I'm still totally captivated by this puppy. He's just so darn cute and therapeutic. In my opinion, every PhD student needs one! Even my dad thinks he's cute.
Introducing Olie:

Graduate School is Like Anesthesia...

A friend of mine recently finished her schooling to become a Certified Registered Nurse Anesthetist (CRNA). She described her job as bringing people as close to death as possible (without actually killing them [most of the time]) and then waking them rudely to the reality of post-operative pain and disappointment. This is how I'm feeling about the PhD program right now...

Exciting Provision

I did it, I passed calculus! It was an adventure I will never forget. I don't know that I learned a whole lot about calculus in the process, but I certainly will say that it was indeed a valuable learning in experience in other respects.
In short, this is what the adventure looked like:
Four afternoons with my good friend Sharon (and her three young kids) eating "grown up candy" (chocolate truffles) making up stories about my students to facilitate learning about derivatives.
Several evenings with my dad (who incidentally told me he had gotten a 'D' in calculus his first time) eating his purple Skittles while discussing infinity and beyond.
Countless late afternoons at school hunting down any students might be lingering in the halls (there was one certain Ukrainian girl who I could always count on) to assist with matrix algebra.
A much needed but impromptu tutoring session on a Sunday afternoon with a friend's fiance who just so happened to be an engeneer.
One Skype session from Mexico City with dad.
A 2 am calculus session on a floor in Mexico City with a "Philikrainian" (Philipino/Ukrainian) student discussing probability, Democrats, Jews, Democratic Jews and/or?
Frantically sent iphone pictures of my homework assignments to my professor from an airport tarmac in Phoenix.
Locking my computer in a room where I had no immediate access to the key the night before my final. (remember there was no textbook...)
Borrowing my dad's laptop but finding out the plug-in wasn't in his computer bag and his battery was dead.
Waking up sick on the morning of the final.
The calculator died mid final and I spent a sizable amount of time calculating by hand log base 3 of 81 thus not finishing within the timeframe.

I must admit that when I finished taking the final and left campus, I was sure I had failed. Only a few days earlier I had driven to Spokane for the orientation to the PhD program at WSU. During my long drive I had listened to some audio books by C.S. Lewis and had spent some time in prayer. One thing that God had brought to my mind was this: The persuit of goals and hard work are good things. Many times the goals we work so hard to achieive are even God given, but we often miss the point and loose focus. The question that was left lingering in my mind was this: How do I make the journey of getting a PhD (or the journey of anything else) into an act of worship that honors and pleases God?
As I left campus on that final day of class, I asked myself "How do I make flunking calculus into an act of worship that honors and pleases God?" I came to the conclusion that it wasn't the "flunking of the calculus" but the reaction to the "flunking of the calculus that would be the act of worship. What reaction would be most honoring and pleasing to God?

Catching Up

Wow, I haven't posted a LONG time!
With all of the graduations, new jobs, new babies, weddings etc... I've been thinking a lot about firsts and lasts. They are milestones and worth being celebrated. Here is a photo of what my most recent clinical group did to commemorate their last day of clinical. I must admit that I was tempted to join them, or I could just go jump in the lake now...

Exciting Provision

Nope, I haven't fallen off the face of the planet, I got in to the statistics class that I needed. Did I mention that I've never been good in math?
I left class with my first homework assignment totally overwhelmed. Well wouldn't you know it, when I was working on it in my office, one the students stopped by. She just happens to be amazing in math. Suddenly, here I am getting math help from my student.
"Did you ever have a left sided brain injury, that's the area that processes math; that would explain a lot. We just learned about math disorder in our psych class." Hmm... Thanks a lot! We worked on the assignment for a over an hour and then she had to leave.
In walks another student. She tries to help and we make it to the last couple of problems before she gets to a certain part. "Hmm, I don't really remember this part very well but my little brother is totally good at it; let's call him up." So here we are with Daniel on speaker phone. He's apparently at a family gathering with lots of people and it's noisy in the background. He goes and hides in the bathroom to secretly help us with the "it's just algebra" problem. "I'll take a picture of it with my phone and sent it to you guys."
With the help of a blunt Ukrainian student, a little brother hiding in a bathroom,and an hour long phone conversation about logarithms with my dad in a parking lot; I got a 100% on my first assignment.

Thank God...

I was right, it really is exciting to see how God provides... My acceptance to the PhD program at WSU is dependant on my completion of a graduate statistics course. That means I have to take such a class THIS QUARTER. Unfortunately there is only 1 such class being offered this quarter that fits the bill and it's on Tuesdays. The problem, I work 12 hour shifts on Tuesdays at the hospital.
I've frantically looking for trades to make it work but I couldn't find any coverage for 2 of my shifts, today being one of them. This morning the assistant manager called and said she would come in for 3 hours to cover my patients while I went to class. The charge nurse arranged for my patients transfer to happen early, before my class, and another nurse took over my other patient so that Tami (the assistant manager) didn't even have to come. Yay, I owe 5SE one PhD!
Well, that might be a little premature I guess; but I certainly am very thankful that I have such supportive co-workers. Now I just have to register for the class and hope there are still spots. I have a to register as a non-matriculated student so I can't register until everyone else has.
Stay tuned for some exciting provision!

It Will Be Exciting To See How God Provides!

With the budget cuts, the State of Washington has been chipping away at our tuition credits for years. As I was researching the latest set of restrictions, I found out that my PhD program is not eligible. I have already formally accepted a spot in the cohort. The question is so I look at all of these things as doors closing, or do I just sit back and say, "it will be exciting to see how God provides?" Thus far, I'm voting for the latter.

A New Adventure on the Horizon

So much to update, so little time... Last Monday I got a letter in the mail from Washington State University. I've been accepted into the PhD Nursing program! Classes begin in June. I am excited about starting a new chapter but a little nervous as well. I recently found out that the full time position at NU that I was anticipating has been eliminated due to budget cuts. UW is also no longer letting employees cut their FTE and I need to maintain benefits. Yikes, I'm not sure if I can continue to work two 70% jobs and go to school at the same time. I suppose I should be excited for that too because then I know that something HAS to change. Good times ahead!

Me Too...

As I was sitting in the break room with the student from the previous post she turned to me and said, "I hate cancer. It never plays fair, I just can't understand it. My mom had cancer. She surgery and chemotherapy and radiation. She's in remission now but it was so scary. I absolutely hate it!"
I hate it too!
From the first time I had met her in nursing school as a close friend's mother, she had been battling cancer. Mrs. V. was an amazing lady, so full of God's grace and peace. I remember once when I went to visit my friend, I ended up sitting on their couch for hours sipping tea listening to Mrs. V talk and tell me stories about God's faithfulness in her life. In many ways she became like a second mother to me. She even tried to put me to bed once. :)
Over the past few months Mrs. V's health had declined. The cancer had spread in her brain. I learned on Sunday morning that she had passed away only hours earlier. She did leave an equally amazing daughter but she will be missed and always fondly remembered.
Boy, do I hate it too!

A Thousand Firsts

I recently mentioned to one of my fellow nurses that I loved being a teacher because I could have the same experience for the time a thousand times. Teaching and performing even the most basic of skills never gets old. It's so much easier to remove surgical staples when you get to do it with somebody who's so excited about it you know they'll be talking about it for days to their roommates.
This week it was a little different however. One of my students experienced her first death. The patient was a middle aged Chinese woman. Cancer had caused her body to waste away so that she looked like a skeleton with skin lying in the bed. He husband was so attentive, he had been at her bedside for days.
I had gone in to see this patient a few times and had had a brief discussion about end-of-life care with my student. On Friday morning as I was assisting another student with IV medication, I saw the first one standing outside the room. I quickly finished with the medication and went out to talk with her.
Tears streamed down her face as she told me that her patient had just died. "She hadn't taken a breath for several minutes so I listened to her heart. I could faintly hear something at first but then it just faded away. What do I do for her husband? Is it OK to cry with a family? I'm trying to pull myself together..."
Yes, unfortunately as a nursing instructor you experience death a 1000 times for the first time too. They ask questions like: "Why did this happen? What will they do now? This just doesn't seem fair. It seems odd that in a few minutes I will have to see my other patient in another room and carry on like nothing has happened when I know their whole world has changed."
All my "teacher words," no matter how true or how profound, can't take away the pain and shock of losing your first patient. So there we sat in the break room behind the door. After few minutes of sobbing and a bit of talking, she fixed her makeup and went back into the room just in time to help her husband dress her in a beautiful Chinese robe before the rest of the family came to bid her farewell.

There's and App For That?

This morning while traipsing across the hospital I noticed signs announcing the new Da Vinci surgical system that had just arrived. The sign said that they would have the machine on display for demonstration in the hospital lobby this afternoon. My nursing students are on Medical/Surgical rotations and are rotating through the operating room. I thought they would be excited to learn about the new system so I snuck downstairs and asked the company reps if I could bring them by. Of course the reps are excited to talk about their product to anybody who will listen so they had no problem with it.
I arranged for the students to meet in the lobby for post clinical conference. They played with it for a few minutes and managed to complete the tasks of displacing and replacing a series of rubber bands on tiny cones in a matter of minutes. My one and only male student says, "That's cool, now what are we doing?" Another one says, "There's an app for that!"
A quiet Chinese student just stands staring, "This is the cool thing you wanted to show us? I'm shuddering as I picture all the video game geeks becoming surgeons."
Well, you win some and you lose some... I let them go home a few minutes early and I stayed the extra time to play with the "robot surgeon."

Peanut Butter Milkshake and a Walk in the Park

A peanut butter milkshake and walk in the park, those were my "self care" activities of choice following my phone interview for the WSU PhD program this morning. I had been dreading that interview for over a week, why couldn't I just drive to Spokane and do the interview in person. It doesn't matter now... at least it's over.
Since for some odd reason I don't have a phone in my office and the functionality of my cell in this building is rather dubious, I used the dean's office to make the call. I think in some ways sitting at his huge desk surrounded by all of his post-it notes to self and numerous degrees made the process more intimidating.
Now we wait...

Ineffective Individual Coping on Whose Part?

He came to us around Thanksgiving, he was on death's door. Mr. Jones (not his real name of course) had been dealing with a congenital heart abnormality all his life, and now at age 50 something it was catching up with him. I remember the evening he came us. With his breathing and circulation were controlled by machines, it appeared that his only hope was a heart transplant.
After several days in intensive care, Mr. Jones recovered enough to breath on his own. His prognosis was starting to look a little better. It wasn't long, however, before he experienced another setback, a massive stroke, a major risk for patients with ventricular assist devices. By Christmas his brain function was very minimal. Even so, his wife Sue, faithfully sat his bedside. Because she wouldn't "pull the plug," some of the nurses had her pegged as "in denial" and gave her a nursing diagnosis of "ineffective individual coping."
I found myself as his assigned nurse on several occassions. On the days I wasn't too incredibly busy I chatted with Sue as I changed dressings and IV lines. I found out that she was a high school language arts teacher, that she was a mother of 3 young women, that she had met Mr. Jones while they attented college in Canada... I found Mrs. Jones to be a very pleasant woman with a great head on her shoulders who just happened to be going through a very difficult time.
Last week I was assigned to a different hall. I was charting and watching monitors when Mrs. Jones walked by. We greeted one another in passing and I asked how she was doing. She told she that she had decided to see a counselor as a way of taking care of herself so she would have someone to talk to. "I'm doing it to be fair for my girls. They are already greaving enough over their father, they don't need to worry about me too..."
She told me about how when she went to meet with the counselor, she noticed that the counselor seemed uneasy. "So basically you're greaving over your husband before he's even dead?" Mrs. Jones was a little surprised by this unexpected response from a "mental health professional" so responded to this remark by asking, "You don't like me, do you? Am I making you uncomfortable."
The counselor responded with this: "I don't like myself when I can't help people."
Wow, that really hit the nail on the head. It isn't Mrs. Jones who has the "ineffective individual coping."
"I'm trying to keep at least one foot in real life. I want to do what's best for my girls and those I have left," she said as we finished the conversation and parted ways.