004. simple joy

I cry every time vacation is over. Without fail! Ever since I was a child.

I wish that vacation could be a lifestyle. I crave the joy that comes with No Cares, and spontaneously pursuing Everything Beautiful that is Out There.

But this is real life. So I cope by listing the joys I currently find in real life.

Joy in May 2018:

I feel so joyful coming home to a clean home, everything put away neatly in it’s place. I feel joy in cooking healthy food. I find joy in sipping coffee and spending all morning in bed with my husband. I find joy in that high I sometimes feel during my jog when I push through and reach the top of a hill. I find joy in practicing handstands, and breathing in yoga. I find joy in coming home to my plants surprising me with new leaves. I find joy in the new hydrangeas opening up in front of my house, reminding me of our wedding. I find joy in a hot shower, freshly shaved legs, and coconut oil.

I’m convinced that God cares about the simple parts of life, and gave us these things to find joy in.

003. she already is

She suggested, “Your mom must be so proud of you??”. I told her that every single time I see my mom, she tells me she couldn’t be prouder. I unwrapped the tape around her husband’s small bore feeding tube and told him, “I’m going to pull this tube out so that you are more comfortable.” I unhooked his bipap mask, pulled out the tube that entered his nose and sat in his stomach, and replaced the uncomfortable mask with a regular oxygen mask. I listened to his wife tell him, “Honey, you are going to be with Jesus on Easter; you can celebrate with him”. I watched him struggle to breathe. I held his hand as I pushed morphine through his IV. His wife told me to please tell my mom how well I cared for him. She said it again, “Don’t forget to tell your mom. She should be proud. You are doing so good.” She cried. I hugged her, with isolation masks and gowns sticking to us, feeling the sweat starting to form on my forehead. I promised her I’d tell my mom.

Moms of nurses – you hug, you listen, you stay up late for us. Mom, during nursing school you quizzed me on flashcards late at night, and early before a test if I’d managed to procrastinate that much (e.g., insulin chart on front step sitting in morning sun). Mom, during nursing school, you drove up to school to take me out for a study break many times. Mom, during nursing school, you shared my bewilderment over FaceTime (I remember standing outside in the shade of my dorm building) after my nurse tech interview, where I saw an expired patient for the first time. Mom, when I graduated, you took me shopping for a pinning dress, you cried at my ceremony.

Mom, you pick up the phone every single time. Mom, you hate mucus, but you listen to even my grosser stories because you know that is therapeutic for me. Mom, you drew me a bubble bath with epsom salts knowing my feet ached. Mom, you picked up my call after one of my hardest shifts, knowing my husband was out-of-town and I had to be back to work at 0700 tomorrow, you made a bed for me to sleep in, you washed my scrubs, you fed me, you hugged me, you let me talk and cry.

This one is for you momma, you have always believed in me. When that family member told me how my mom should be proud of me, I knew deep inside, ‘she already is’. Thank you for each and every memory. Thank you for each and every sacrifice. (and please don’t stop because I need all of it.) Love you more. Oodles.

Happy Mother’s Day.



001. the morning after…

… a 16 hour shift. I awaken at noon to my feet aching. Should I go back to sleep? I roll over and feel each pain in my neck, my back, my arms, my legs.

I remember back to my patients yesterday. The woman who told me she was becoming depressed. She was ready to go home, but her platelet count was dangerously low. So I suggested we walked for a change of scenery. We found a spot to sit and feel the sun coming through the window. I closed my eyes and soaked it in. I peeked over and saw her doing the same.

I think if I could find beautiful moments like this in the midst of my job I might be happier in my life. If I could somehow find an inner smile while I’m cleaning stool, holding back hair, reading the cardiac monitor while pushing meds.

An experienced nurse told me that every drive home, I should think of the successful aspects of my day, rather than the things I forgot or did poorly. SO I think that’s what this space is for. I’m not great at getting all of my scrambled thoughts out by speaking, even to my favorite people. So I will try by typing. I will focus on the good, although sometimes the bad needs to be mentioned so that we might be more thankful for the good. Also, I will focus on my days off, so that I can better care for my patients. I know that I must care for my patients, and for myself.

I sit here drinking my coconut milk coffee, wrapped in a blanket, with a brain that probably looks like this poster (found this on Pinterest and it spoke to me): 80bbc0098241a384d740efc0b511da65http://www.criatives.com.br/2012/08/33427/

I hope that in this space, some of that brain-color can splash onto the page and the people who love me can understand my thoughts better!