**Note: This is a rant about something post, about my frustrating, kicked-me-in-the-butt weekend I've just had. I’m fine, the boys are fine, I just need to spit the taste, stink and thought of it on here so I can move on. No deep thoughts, just crankiness and deliberate blessing counting. And my Dad's 74th birthday party. That is all. **
So he blew out candles and we ate cake, and mom's dishwasher was still broken, and after some more chatting, it was time to return home.
Even awful weekends end. Eventually.
Nope. That was just the start of it. I came home from work Saturday morning at 7:35 and plunked myself in bed. 11:10 the garage opened and I hear my sweet Markus run up the stairs to get his swimming suit. He ran in for a hug and out to go swimming with Ben.
I considered, listening to nothing but the tight hiss of my mood, until the throb of my heartbeat eased from my ears, until my breath ebbed and flowed back in.
I’m not going to be mad, I decided. This is me being kind to myself.
Surprised, and grateful, I simply sat, and did nothing but let the stress drift out and quietly fog the corners of the mirrors.
Since I could not fall back asleep - no matter how hard I tried, I finally got up and cleaned the house and mowed the lawn. Max came home and helped finish. While I was moving the grill over so he could blow the grass from underneath, I tripped and it tipped over on me. Markus came to my rescue and amazingly had the strength to pull it off of me, leaving my arm bruised, elbow and knee scrapped and my hand bleeding. It has not been a good weekend.
In the course of the last three days, between working three 12-1/2 hour shifts, and getting three hours of sleep on Saturday I'm tired. THREE. All of which were in the morning, I am both cranky and tired and out of sorts and ravenous… it’s not good for relaxing, I have to say.
Money is tight. I did the math, and knew exactly when I could afford to buy the boys Pass of All Passes. Anxiety had eaten everything soft and vulnerable in my belly, though, and yesterday I was wondering what I was thinking. Sunday I was working, so I missed church (and stressed about not teaching my primary class yet again, despite the Primary President’s reassurances that she understood and cheered my decision – I hate feeling I've failed my responsibilities so, so much).
“How you doing, B?” my manager, Lisa asked me at my quarterly evaluation at work last week.
“I’m okay, thanks.”
She cocked an eyebrow at me, “Only okay?”
“Some days or weeks, being just okay is a win. I’m fine, my boys are fine, I’m okay."
“I'm going to switch you to days instead of nights and when school starts we can work around your schedule."
Immediately I blurted “I'm not sure if I'm going to get in to the nursing program.” She blinked, startled, and I laughed. “Seriously, I haven't heard anything…”
She looked at me, kindness and strength evident. “I hope you get in."
She spoke, and the stress filling in my belly was calmly swallowed by a warm bundle of clarity. I’m going to be a nurse, and it will be a good thing. Good for me, good for my sons. Peace uncoiled through me, flowing through my veins. She wrote a letter of recommendation to the selection committee on my behalf. It might all work out, and be an amazing experience. Evaluation done (in more ways than one), I returned home, back to my boys, humming zip-a-dee-do-dah.
I came in to work at 6:30 this morning. My friend Denise had been working all night. The shift change went through, nurses switched patients and I was doing my rounding – I’m walking down the hall when the smell hits me. It was a great start to Monday, driving home what was happening in my nose. Then the whole thing kind of exploded.
We have been down two people at work, which has meant trying to cover other people’s jobs, plus management have added more responsibilities which has further increased the time it takes to complete a task, which then escalates the situation. In the last room I round on is the biggest mess I have yet encountered on the job. And the other techs I call for help are not happy about it either, and while they are for the most part a great bunch of people, any whining is still whining. All small stuff, when taken individually, but all together an overload has descended.
Today, at the busiest point of the day, the shift change. It’s a major isolation health issue, so it’s taken incredibly seriously. I’m assigned to her (and the one that found her like that), so I got to put on my sexy yellow isolation gown, grab a pair of gloves and hurry to get her cleaned up, hauling her into the shower as I strip sheets off of the bed. Bedding cleaned, I reported to the charge nurse, and then walked a couple of hundred miles around the floor to the designated time, where we waited for the next shift to arrive. Half an hour before, I went back into this little ladies room again for the last hourly rounding of my day and she has been incontinent again! The afternoon provided some gratitude thoughts as well. “He is leaving for the heart floor,” my charge nurse stated, stopping between me and the vitals I was charting. “Don’t take his sheets off – take him downstairs instead.”
I left work at 7 tonight, bone tired, realizing I wouldn't see Marko until I picked him up after Baseball at about 8 pm. I got home just after 7, to find the cereal bowls still on the table, the boys’ chores undone and I had two crackers for dinner, scrubbed the black from under my nails, and started work on the kitchen. O
“But I thought he was doing better?” I reminded her.
“He's in heart failure.” She replied softly. “If they can help him better downstairs, he is going to go.” She lowered her head until she had my full attention. “He already has a pacemaker. Yesterday’s and today’s vitals aren't showing improvement. He is wearing out,” she looked at me. So, without a doubt, this was a definite shock. I’m trying not to cry and his daughter is there with him, crying as well.
I am going to be a nurse, I told myself, over and over and over again. Changing briefs, counting calories and fluids, charting rounding and bowel habits, I repeated it like a mantra. I am going to be a nurse. The letters are in. I am going to school.
I texted the boys on my way down the elevator. “I'll pick you up at baseball - we're going to Grandpa's party.”
I left work at 7 tonight, bone tired, realizing I wouldn't see Marko until I picked him up after Baseball at about 8 pm. I got home just after 7, to find the cereal bowls still on the table, the boys’ chores undone and I had two crackers for dinner, scrubbed the black from under my nails, and started work on the kitchen. O
I texted my Mom, and I explained that I would be late for my Dad's birthday party. I was reassuring her that I was fine and not that tired as soon as I walked in the door. She fed us all dinner and I calmed down a little more while Mom chatted about my friend, Sharon's daughter, Madison being in the Miss Utah pageant. I told her what the cat had been throwing up all night last night… When I could talk in complete sentences, I thanked her, swapped I love you’s, and asked about Dad's day.
"Ppfft,” my mom teased, “You don't need any more $#!% in your life!”
I laughed, needing the lightened mood, laughter, and finding surprising satisfaction in washing the dishes by hand. “You’re right about that, mom!”
“No, seriously” mom continued, obviously determined to help my feelings. “You’re a great Mom. Doing a great job. Don’t worry about your boys.” She hugged me again.
Dad looked me directly in the eye. “You are welcome to stay here tonight,” my dad stated, bubbles still floating in the sink “we have plenty of room for you to stay.”
“I know. I just can't stay here. Not with Ood's sick.”
Cleaned up cat throw up, and listened to the rain. Last weekend was officially over.
This scripture was on repeat all the while “-endure all things”. Heavenly Father knows I’m strong-headed. More stubborn than I should or need to be, usually. But this past weekend seemed like one of those times where I just had to put my head down, and move forward through everything slamming against me. And when I was becoming especially discouraged, there was the uplift and belief of family to boost me on, the smell of fresh water, and “-endure all things” echoing in my ears, the word “hope” warming my shoulders, strengthening my shaking knees, wrapping me up to stay stubborn strong, keep going just a little longer.
