how…oh, screw this

Oh, yeah. Right. I have to blog. Excuse me if I sound less than enthused today. We lost last night in double overtime by 3 points. A football game has never kept me so stressed for so long. At one point, my hands went numb and I thought I was going to faint. At the end, I wanted to cry. And despite it being a freaking fantastic game and we totally held our own against Oregon, my soul is very very bruised. I woke up this morning feeling hungover (and I was alcohol-free all weekend) and the sore throat that had been looming since Friday was in full force. My tonsils are a little huge and since I’m still completely exhausted from my multiple panic attacks last night, I cry at stupid things. Like that I’m so tired. And my mom calling me. I also cry at things I wouldn’t cry at anyway, like how I’m not getting Thanksgiving this year. And stuff that Scott after the game last night about band and stuff and the seniors of the band leaving and this season almost being over and that my job as a TA is almost finished. Okay, so that last part I would have cried at anyway, but I think most of it can be blamed on the stress.

So, today, I’m watching more football. Somehow I find the Cardinals beating the crap out of the Rams therapeutic. Later, I think I’ll be renting a few movies, grabbing some soup, and preparing for a long hard Monday of called-in-sick paid time off.

Since when does football make me feel this way?

how to: bear the fuck down

For the last few weeks, the mere mention of this weekend’s game sends little panic waves to my brain. It’s THE game of the year. It’s SO fucking intense that ESPN’s College Game Day is on Arizona campus, showing the world just how gorgeous our city is and how INSANE our ZonaZoo is.

We’re undefeated at home this year. We’re coming off an upsetting loss to Cal next week. We are SO. PUMPED. Arizona stadium is going to be a mad house. My brain isn’t even working properly and the only color I see is RED.

Cats can haz roast duck?

how to: get the shit kicked out of you by love

I don’t know guys. We’re 20 days into NaBlo and my brain HURTS. I try Truth or Dare, but I can’t even think of something I’ve never told anyone (because I’m a blabber mouth) or the stupidest thing I’ve ever done to get a boy to like me (because most of what I do around boys is stupid). The Dares are way easier because they’re things I can DO and take pictures of, but digging into my brain and writing about it is getting dangerously repetitive. It’s the DANGER ZONE of blogging.

It may also be because I just watched quite possibly the worst Chick Flick of all time. Yes, my good friends and lurkers, I just watched 90 minutes of crap and I’m pretty sure my brain has started to rot. So, we can all blame this movie on Lindsay’s poor Truth or Dare skills this evening.

It all started back in 2001 when I got hooked on a little show called Alias. It was a November afternoon around Thanksgiving and ABC was having a marathon of the episodes that had aired in the premiere season. It was exciting! Mystery, spies, a female character that rocked. And a handler man that also starred in Never Been Kissed and OH MY GAWD he was sooooo hott and he drove me a little crazy.

And so it was my duty to watch every movie with him in it, obviously. But, unfortunately, It Had to Be You was no where to be found. I should have taken the hint. It’s about two people planning their weddings in New York and they meet and they fall in love and it’s all very predictable, like any Rom Com should be. However, the acting (I’m so sorry Michael) was horrific. The writing and dialogue was awkward and never believable that these two were falling in love.

A while back in an interview thing, Ashley actually asked me why I like Romantic Comedies so much. After all, they’re all predictable, usually have the same plot, and star either Meg Ryan or Hugh Grant.

But, the thing is, most of them (when they’re not completely horrible), even when I’ve got a carton of ice cream and a box of kleenex next to me, make me feel better. While you’d expect them to make me feel shitty and lonely, they actually take all those failed dates and relationships, wrap them up, and throw them away. As if to say, “Whatevs! You too will have this magic movie moment. You too will find someone that would make the theater audience cheer at your first kiss. You too will get your moment in the rain on a bridge in front of some magnificent piece of architecture. You too will have Frank Sinatra playing in the background of the kind of romantic moment that wouldn’t make you squeemish.” Unrealistic expectations? Perhaps. But, who could hate this crap anyway?

Oh shit. It’s almost my bed time and now I am having strong urges to watch that last one.

how to: tweek a life

Some people come and go in our lives. As a nurse, I meet many of them. But, occasionally you get the one that tweeks your life a little. For five 12-hour shifts, I have taken care of a specific little lady who did just that. At age three, she caught polio and since has struggled with scoliosis, obesity, and multiple other conditions that resulted, and has recently been diagnosed with metastatic cancer. But, when I met her, you would never have known she had gone through so much. Quite often I see patients come in with horrible attitudes and no real motivation to take initiative to heal. This woman was all toothless smile, mouthing conversations with me regardless of the fact that she was trached and couldn’t talk. She was more than compliant- she was inspiring.

It’s been a while since I’ve been to church. I don’t pray, let alone really know what I believe anymore. But, this woman, a member of the choir, knew and lived it. She took care of friends who also had polio. She was independent and intelligent. She was the treasurer for her church. Regardless of her disabilities, she lived and took charge. Why let a crippled back stop her from doing and believing so passionately?

This week, they told her she had six months to live. She’ll be on the ventilator for the rest of her short life. The past two days, she grew anxious and more melancholy. She slept more often and there were no “how was your weekend” conversations. Less toothless smiles and more panicked looks. Today, I transferred her to a different hospital for care that could be more long-term. I could tell she was scared and after you’ve given all the ativan you can give your patients, the only thing left is to hold their hand. As I was packing her up, she mouthed to me, “Thanks for everything.” I told her I’d miss her, as a lumped formed in the back of my throat. She said she’d miss me, too.

I really will miss seeing that face every morning at work, her toothless smile and bright eyes surprised and happy to see me. Little does she know that she probably did more for her nurse than I ever did for her.

On another note, my patient on Wednesday and her friend bought me flowers.

My job is funny.

how to: lean on me, bitches

Either a) Glee’s episode tonight was definitely the best ALL SEASON. Or b) I’m really fucking tired and emotionally worn out. Because, I spent the whole last number sobbing. What. The hell?

Tell me I’m not alone in my tears.

how to: get really, really lost

I think it’s appropriate to blog just to say, Happy Farscape Day!!

My box set hasn’t even arrived yet, but I’m already acting like it’s Christmas and I’m 10 years old.

And, because I somehow have been getting extra readers these days, I want EVERY SINGLE ONE OF YOU to go over here and participate. Ashley does not lie. It is magnificent.

Okay, now time to get my moles checked out. Caio.

EDITED: By the way, Seasons 1-3 are now available for instant play on NetFlix. What an awesome day!

how to: live up to the “RN”

Dear Life,

You’ve been really confusing lately. Remember that one post a few months ago? Where I complained to you about my job and whether or not I actually liked what I was doing? We’ll skip over the boy part of the letter, because, well, we still need to work on that one.

But, here you are, going along, making me wonder if I made a mistake, and about a month later, I feel like I might be falling in love- and I think it might be for real and for the first time. After I get over the initial shock of the alarm clock going off at 5:15am and hitting the snooze for a half an hour, even on the days that I would have rather stayed curled up in my bed under the warm covers, I’m finding I actually enjoy my job. The panic switch doesn’t turn on as easily. The crazier days are usually just the faster ones. Twelve hour shifts feel normal. The people I work with are incredible and inspiring. And sometimes, as cliche as it may sound, you actually can make a difference in someone’s life. Sure, some days are harder than others- emotionally, mentally, or physically, and sometimes all of the above. But, my favorite days are the ones when I connect to a stranger. When someone actually reaches across my nurse-patient “I’m only here for a second of your life” barrier and teaches ME something. It’s not easy to do. I’ve gotten pretty good at going home and not thinking about work, unless it’s about what I forgot to do that day. But, when you do, I’ll remember you forever.

It’s taken me long enough, but I’m starting to believe the “RN” I sign so often at the end of my name. And most of the time, it’s the little things- like getting my patient with the twisted back to dangle at the edge of the bed for ten minutes so that her back stops hurting. Or wheeling my coworker’s patient to see the artificial heart he might have to get if he so chooses. Or sitting and listening when they’re anxious and probably a little bit crazy. Or, if they’re vented, sedated, and getting cannulated for ECMO and all you really can do is be her representative. It’s more than the meds, the turns Q2, and the continuous paranoia as you watch their blood pressure, oxygenation, and heart. It’s when you look at them at the end of your shift and they say “thank you” and you know you did something right.

I don’t know what happened, but it’s changing me. More outspoken, thicker skin, a face that is calm and collected. But, perhaps more importantly, I’m finding a deeper appreciation for humanity and a desire to do my part in fixing it.

Last night, while driving between a friend’s birthday festivities, I was listening to an astrologer (Dawn) on her talk radio show speak with a woman who was going into nursing. But, Dawn was wondering why she was doing that because she “saw no Virgo” in her. It’s starting to make sense.

So, thanks life. Sometimes you do a good job.

Love,
Lindsay

P.S. To my readers: I’m still accepting Truths or Dares! PLEASE! I beg you! Comment! Two people already have. I will send those two and the NEXT FIVE PEOPLE who comment with a Truth or Dare cookies. And I’m being serious. I will resort to bribes.

how to: don’t stop believin’!!

What happens when you work a 12, go out to amazing Mexican food for a friend’s birthday, meet fun new people, and go sing some crazy karaoke?

No blog, apparently.

And that’s the second time in a week I’ve “sung” in front of strangers. Could this become a habit? The good news: not great range, but I have rhythm. Thanks band for these useful talents.

I’m full of chimi and margarita. Time to pass out, yo.

how to: flickr flickr flickr

I bit the bullet and finally made a Flickr account.

And then I uploaded a shitton of pictures.

See!?

Also, dear readers. I am so out of ideas for blog posts. So, I’m going to play Truth or Dare. Comment back with a Truth or a Dare and I’ll be creative.

how to: quit the nailbiting

I have some pretty bad habits. Like how I let laundry sit in the basket for a week or two before I finally fold it. Or how I don’t do the dishes right after dinner like my parents taught me. Or buying television on DVD. Or losing my sunglasses- like the one time after my 10k, I was in a port-a-potty and I was leaning over to line the seat with toilet paper before sitting down and OOPS. There they went off my shirt.

But, there’s one habit that’s been around since I was little. Yeah, you know it if you’ve read my blog before. It’s nail biting. How many times have I said I’d stop? How many times have I tried? How many times was I successful only to get a hang nail and say “fuck this uneven shit” and go to town on the rest of them?

Well, people. I think it’s all over. Finally. I sort of slowed down over the end of the summer, but on my birthday I had a manicure. And for some reason (the embarrassment, how pretty they looked, how even they were, the disgusting part) it actually stuck. They’re far from perfect- hangnails still get me sometimes and one of the really bad ones is taking a long time to grow out. I’ve had multiple nail breaks, and not one has made me tempted. I’ve painted them, I’ve cut them (?!), and my new best friend is the nail file. Scratching is a new concept, they make noise when I tap them on a table, and I’m proud of showing off my hands.

Pretty nails.