Restlessness

For the past while, I have been so restless to the point of insanity! I am such a busy-body anyway: I am always the one tapping my fingers on the counter, chewing gum, bouncing my legs, chewing on a pencil, etc... But this is different.

It's not like I have ADD or anything, but I feel like I am always looking for something else to do. When I am at work, I just want to be home catching up on yesterday's "LOST" episode; hanging out with a friend; taking a nap, etc... And then when I have time to actually do those things, I don't. And then I find myself wanting again when I can't have it.

Right now, I am my own worst enemy.

I spend so much time waiting for the next thing to come along, just antsy waiting for an opportunity to come my way, that I end up doing nothing! It's absolutely astonishing, actually. I look at the clock and I've spent my entire evening doing nothing but wanting and my mind racing.

It's so terribly sad because I try to make plans, try to prioritize, try to stay ahead of the curve, but I just don't.

I wonder if I am trying to do too much; if I am thinking too much; if I am wanting too much.

It is hard for me to even listen to a whole song on my iPod; I'm always changing the song before it is over. I pick a song that I want to hear, change it midway through to something else "better," and then change that song midway through until I just turn my iPod off and wonder what I should do next. This is so symbolic of my life in general.

I am so bored, so ready to move on in so many ways. I'm only twenty years old, but I feel like I'm fairly mature for my age. I am making a lot of money for someone my age, in a career that is specialized (AKA not entry-level); I am ready for a serious relationship, and I feel like I have a lot to offer and that I want to have a connection with someone that is not just a friend; I want to move out but I don't want to live by myself!

I feel like I am trying to make things happen but that something always holds me back. I know that I've tried. My family knows that I've tried. My friends know that I've tried. I just feel ready for something new, something different, something exciting! I am sick of negativity, and the seemingly inevitable failure of trying.

It's amazing that I'm bored - my life has been anything but boring lately. My older brother is getting married next month; my younger brother is leaving on a mission next month; my grandfather just passed away (and now I have no grandparents); I have started taking call at work; school has been anything but easy; and the list goes on...

To be fair to myself though, I have always thrived when I am busy. That's just my personality: I thrive under stress.

Maybe I just have too much time on my hands...

One thing gives me hope, though. About ten days ago, when I was driving to work, I had a distinct feeling that a change was coming. I didn't know if it was a good change or a bad change, but I felt that one was coming. I feel like this came from the Holy Ghost, but I have no clue what this change is supposed to (have) be(en) - maybe it's already happened! (There have been some major changes in the past couple of days.)

But I hope this change is still ahead because I'm still bored!

"Because you scare me..."

I went to SLC Pride this weekend - a little rainy, but I've interpreted it as "braving the storm." For, in fact, isn't that what we've all done? We should be proud of ourselves for doing that.

However, I faced a storm when I got home. You see, I had explained to my mom well ahead of time that I was going to the Pride Festival (as I had done the year before), but I did not explain this to my dad for two reasons. I figured that he would know I was gone but not know where I was going (as usual - which is TOTALLY fine), and I also figured that he would get angry and perhaps not let me go. So I figured that I would have to confront him with the truth when I got home. I didn't want to, but I knew it would be a possibility.

When I returned home, the only person there was my older brother who was napping in the basement. So I went to my room and straightened it up and started to watch TV. When my dad got home, he came up to my room and talked with me. Our conversation, recreated to the best of my memory and ability:

"Where were you?"

"I was hanging out with friends."

"Who? What were you doing?"

"You don't know them. We chilled, watched a movie, went out to eat. [All true - but with different groups of people.]

"Oh okay... Well I know you were at this Pride thing they've got going on downtown."

"How did you know I was there?"

"Drew, don't you think I would know? Sure, I know! Why wouldn't I know where you were?"

"Did mom tell you?"

"No, she didn't tell me. I just knew. [pause] So these 'people' you were with - I assume they struggle with the same thing? Are these the people from that thing in Lehi?" [I still don't know how he knew. I don't believe that my mom told him.]

"Yeah, they are the ones from Lehi."

"Um... It really disappoints me that you went to that thing [Pride]. It completely goes against everything that I've taught you."

"You haven't even been to it before."

"That doesn't mean that I don't have an idea of what it's about."

"Oh, so you're passing judgment on something and, by default, onto me, that you only have an 'idea' about? That's not fair. That doesn't make sense to me."

"I'm not passing judgment, Drew. I'm just trying to help you. Look - there is one view on homosexuality as far as the world is concerned, and that view is put on for show at these things."

"Oh, really?! What is this 'one view'?"

"The world doesn't separate the feelings from the behavior. They think that it's one way or the other; that if you have these feelings then you must act upon them."

"So? Just because you disagree with them doesn't mean that there's only one view."

"Well, yeah there is but not according to the world. The only time I have seen a positive view put forward and encouraged was that one guy who wrote that book [Ty Mansfield, co-author of In Quiet Desperation]. What's his name? [I didn't tell him his name.] Well, anyway, that is the only example I can think of where gay people are encouraged to obey the commandments, stay celibate, etc... And that is sad. It's a total shame."

[I should've said something snarky like, "Well I think it's sad that half of all of Utah's homeless teens identify as LGBT and have been kicked out of their homes," but I didn't.] "Well it's the Church's own fault. It's published by the Church [vicariously] and is sold in Deseret Book [a church-owned store]. You can't put that onto anyone else. The Church publishes it but doesn't let people know that they sell it. I have to find out from another gay person, who found out from another gay person, etc... You remember the pamphlet, God Loveth His Children? Well the only advertising the Church did [that I saw] was in the Deseret News. Bishop ______ didn't even know about it - I had to tell him when I went to talk with him once. You would think that the Church would make a huge announcement about new literature it produces, especially about something as important as this. How would Bishop ______ not know about it? You would think they would make it known to their leadership if they produced something like that."

"I just don't think the world is ready for it yet. One day all of this will seem trivial because it will become a non-issue. But it hasn't happened yet."

"Dad, things are changing, and I want to be a part of it. It's a process; it doesn't just happen overnight. I'm not going to put my life on hold because the world's not ready for it yet."

[long pause]

"You know, Drew? This whole 'ASS' thing is taking its toll on me. It really is." [I'm not joking, either. He really said this.]

"'ASS' thing? 'SSA', you mean?" [laughing and rolling my eyes]

"Yeah, sorry: SSA. It just takes its toll, you know?"

"Uh, yeah... I know."

"And it really just upsets me when you wear your ring." [My ring is silver with a flat top, in which six small fake stones, each one a different color rainbow, are set.]

"Why?!"

"Because I don't think that it represents what you think it represents."

"Well what do you think it represents? What do you think when you see it?"

"I think it sends the message, 'Hey! Come have a good time! Yeah, come on over. Let's hook up and have a good time. I'm looking for somethin'.'"

"Well that's not what it means."

"Well that's what I'm saying - that you are sending the wrong message by wearing it. And I don't like you to wear it because I think that people who don't know you well enough will think that about you when it's not true."

"Well that's their problem, not mine."

"I just think that it does you a disservice. [long pause] Yeah, Drew, it just really shreds my heart when I see you wearing that ring. It really does. [short pause] It's like you're shoving it in people's faces!"

"What?! That doesnt' even make sense, Dad. You wear a wedding ring - does that mean that you're shoving your marriage down in people's faces? At work? At the gym? In Church?" [When I was talking with Scott earlier today, he made a comparison to a "CTR" ring that I could've used in my argument.]

"I just don't like it. In all my life, I have never seen another person wear a ring like that - not once. And yet you feel as if you must wear it. I don't understand that."

"Well you obviously don't know a lot of gay people then."

"Oh, that's bologna! You don't think I've seen gay people downtown? None of them feel like they need to wear a ring."

"Well I do. Besides, it's a ring - you don't just walk up to someone and check to see if they are wearing a ring. That's ridiculous."

"Well, no, but rings are noticeable. And yours would stick out like a sore thumb!"

[long pause]

"Dad, I would be willing to not wear my ring during a specific time, day, or place just for you. Do you want me to do that?

"No. Drew, I love you and I hope you know that. I worry about your safety. I just don't want you coming home one day beat up."

"I know. Love you, too."

[He comes over to the bed, where I am sitting, and gives me a hug. About five minutes later I walk down the stairs and he is smiling and getting ready to go to the family party at my relatives' house. My mom and sister are in the kitchen just around the corner.]

"Thanks for talking with me. I guess we just don't have very good communication. I want to have that communication with you. How come you tell mom things and not me sometimes?"

"Because you scare me..."

Disappointment and Why I Want to "Come Out"

I have been reminded through recent experiences that life is full of disappointments. It seems as if the past few days have literally come from Hell. You know how it is - someone or something disappoints you and it starts the Domino Effect; it all happens at once.

Within the past few days, three close family members have made negative comments about gaays; two of them know that I am gaay. First, one of them told me that gaays just, "...need to get over it." Second, one of them recently had his best friend "come out" to him; he no longer wishes to be his friend. And last, one of them called me a, "...fag!" directly. He later apologized, and I accept his apology, but it's still hard to ignore because all these statements came at me within a 24-hour period.

This has been on my mind the past few days because, prior to these comments, I was thinking about "coming out" to my extended family soon, but can't out of respect for certain family members who aren't ready to accompany me on that journey yet. Two of the comments above were made by extended family members. But I still have hope, given the response I received when they found out that I had decided to not serve a mission.

My philosophy on "coming out" is a little different from most others'. Usually, I will only tell someone that I'm gaay if he or she asks me about my orientation directly; I will not go out proactively informing others of my orientation. This general rule, however, would need to be broken if I am to "come out" in regards to my not serving a mission, as I would be sharing the information willingly without being asked specifically about it...

You see, I want to be honest when I get the, "Why not serve?" question from people; I think that this is a perfect opportunity to "come out" to extended family and friends in the neighborhood and ward. I'm constantly stressing about not going on a mission because my birthday is in January and people are starting to bring it up in conversation; they assume that I'm going. It is very uncomfortable to have to tell them that I'm not serving because I know what the first thing popping into their minds is: that I slept with a woman . It is incredibly irritating - they assume the worst, and it isn't even remotely close; yes, REALLY, I slept with a woman . Please, save it for the next guy.

So, why exactly do I want to come out? Another MoHo recently asked me this, and it got me thinking...

Reason #1: Not Hiding Anymore

I know that I'm not the only one who feels this way. I have to hide certain behaviors or interests around people that don't know I'm gaay. I don't like censoring myself like this. I desire to be my true self.

Reason #2: Changing People's Attitudes

Most people would not even suspect that I'm "one of them." Some of my peers definitely would suspect it, while others would simply say, upon finding out, "Oh, okay. Whatever." However, most people in my neighborhood and ward would be completely surprised, as would my Surgical Technologist instructors. I feel that "coming out" to people in my neighborhood and ward would be a good teaching and learning opportunity. I can only hope that people's attitudes are expanded upon knowing that they have interacted with a gaay man for the past few years; that they will learn that there is nothing to fear.

Reason #3: Fulfilling and Validating Myself to the World

I AM important. I matter in this world. And this world is shared by us all, so I'm going to make the most of it. I WILL NOT be ashamed of who I am, for I have every right to be who I am. I WILL reach my full potential, and I can only do that if I am not only completely honest with myself, but with the world as well.

I won't be coming out the way I want to because of the family members who, as I mentioned, are not ready to accompany me on this journey. I will be "coming out," however, once I start school in January... it'll be a fresh start, and I don't want it to pass by.

Sometimes I think that that's all life is... a waiting game.

My Fabled First Day at "Scrub Tech" Clinical

My first day of "Scrub Tech" clinical was August 20th, but I am only just now writing about it... probably because I knew it would be so long!

Here is a link to the U.S. Department of Labor's website detailing everything about the Surgical Technologist. I recommend you read "Nature of the Work" before finishing my post, as you will have a greater understanding of my experience.

Just so that you have an idea of how totally bizarre and rare my day was (even for a seasoned Tech), I will tell you about what my instructor had to say about it. I called him on his cell phone (isn't that awesome that he gives all his students his cell phone number?!) that night and he didn't answer; I didn't call him again until Friday afternoon two days later. I told him a much more detailed story than I am allowed to tell you (due to HIPAA patient privacy laws), and he said that the events I witnessed would've "shaken" him and he's been "scrubbing" for twelve years!

I will begin with some background information. My parents were celebrating their twenty-fifth wedding anniversary the same week that I started clinical. They left for BYU to attend Education Week (I know - what a way to celebrate) on the morning of Monday the 18th. Therefore, my brothers and I were "stuck" babysitting my foster sister Janessah (she's 4 years old) all week; we each had different day assignments.

Tuesday had been designated as my older brother Cameron's day to babysit. Well, on Tuesday night, he had his friend KC over from West Valley City. He had brought over Little Caesar's pizza while the two were watching the Beijing Olympics. Well, Janessah came up to me just as I was about to go to my room and get ready for bed and asked me to help her get ready for bed (this includes getting her pajamas on, brushing her hair and her teeth, putting her lip gloss on, reading her one or two books, and laying by her in bed until she falls asleep). I knew it was Cameron's job, but I decided to be nice and started the process. As I was lying next to her in bed, Cameron came waltzing up the stairs yelling her name. I got up from her bed and told him that everything had been done. I was frustrated, to say the least, but I just wanted to be nice. I could've easily gone downstairs and told Cameron that she was ready for help in getting ready for bed, but because I didn't, I have no one to blame except myself.

Suffice it to say that I could not get to sleep. I couldn't stop thinking about clinical because of all the unknowns involved. "What cases will I get to work on tomorrow? Who will my preceptor be? Am I really prepared?" - these were all thoughts running through my head until I finally fell asleep sometime between 2:30 and 3:00 a.m. (keep in mind that I wake up at 4:50 a.m.). Also keeping me awake was Janessah. She had asked KC earlier in the night to read her a book titled, There's a Monster in My Closet. I have no idea why she would want to listen to that story; my mom has "monster spray" (water in a spray bottle) that she sprays in my sister's closet before she goes to sleep, and Janessah has to see her spray it. The bottom line is: Janessah thinks there's a monster in her closet! Anyway, she kept waking up crying at fifteen-minute intervals throughout the night. I had to get out of bed and take care of her because Cameron was two floors below us in the basement and couldn't hear a thing!

Note: Most of the following has been edited in order to comply with HIPAA patient privacy laws. A name has been changed. Other information is entirely left out. I'm sorry; I would like to share every detail, but I don't want to get sued. I also want to respect the privacy and dignity of the patients whom I've served.

As a warning, the following paragraph contains some potentially nausea-inducing descriptions of a specific aspect of surgery.

"Debra" was assigned to be my preceptor. She had been assigned to a dang tiny O.R. that day. My first case was very simple. The surgeon made the incision with the Bovie (electrocautery; and let me tell you - the Bovie smells worse than anything I have ever smelled before. It smells like a mixture of diarrhea and vomit. Just think about it: you are smelling burning flesh!), then dissected through some tissue with a pair of scissors... All I am allowed to say from here is that the patient woke up screaming obscenities at the surgeon while kicking and throwing punches. Twice. It was one of those moments when you know that you are witnessing something no human should ever see or hear. "Debra" and the surgeon quickly tried to pin the patient down, and I moved the mayo stand out of the way. "Debra" shouted at me to remove the Bovie tip (if ally activated, the Bovie could start an O.R. fire and burn the patient). After the patient had calmed down, the surgeon simply said, "I'm done," and walked out of the room; he was ed at the anesthesiologist.


Because I had been shocked by the preceding case, my next case ended up being my worst so far. In preparing my table setup, I ally contaminated the edge of one of the instrument pans. "Debra" noted it and said that it was fine as long as I didn't touch the contaminated edge with the inner pan. Then "Debra" scrubbed in (meaning she had become sterile) and helped me with the rest of the table setup. After the setup was almost complete, I noticed that I had torn a small hole in the finger of one of my gloves. I showed "Debra" and she yelled at me for not double-gloving. The following videos detail a cardiovascular-specific back table setup, a surgical hand scrub, gowning & gloving yourself, and gowning & gloving another person:







For the second case, I had been assigned by the surgeon to hold the retractors, so I was looking straight into the incision. He was using the Bovie quite heavily, and the smell started to get to me; I was getting light-headed. This went on for a few minutes, and I just kept telling myself that I could do it. I closed my eyes and took deep breaths on more than one occasion. I guess that at one point I couldn't help it anymore and reflexively took a huge breath, which caught the attention of the surgeon, who said, "Are you okay?" I immediately said, while struggling to breathe, "No. No I'm not. I need to sit down." The nurse responded like a pro and had a chair right behind me in which I sat down. She was struggling to take off my gown; I was weak, limp, and pale, and my weight didn't help her much. Once she got it off, she said, "Uh-huh. Here we go." She turned the gown so that the inside of it was facing "Debra" and the surgeon and it was completely drenched and dripping with sweat. She put a cool wash cloth on my neck and told me to keep my head down.

While sitting there, I almost started crying. I felt like I could get away with at least a little bit of emotion because my head was down. I couldn't help but think, "What the heck am I doing here? How could this have turned out so badly? I know what I'm doing, so why am I have such a hard time doing it?" She leaned over and told me to not worry, that it happens to everyone, even residents. I honestly didn't care; I the residents! I knew that I was better than this, and it disappointed me so much. That's why I was crying.

After I had regained my composure, she told me to go to the lounge and get a cup of ice water and to drink it slowly. I was back in the O.R. in about ten minutes and the surgeon was suturing the wound close - which means the case was pretty much over. I was kind of relieved that I wouldn't have to scrub in again (at least for this same case), but I also felt like I had made myself look like an absolute idiot. I mean, what a great first impression to give these people! I knew that they were going to talk to their co-workers about the whole situation, and resigned myself to the fact that I shouldn't worry about that because it is something that I do not and cannot have control over. Suffice it to say, the next week one of the other students at my facility had told one of my peers on Trax that I had fainted on my first day. When I learned of this, I just rolled my eyes and knew that it wasn't true - and that was enough for me.

All I could think about throughout the day were Janessah and my mother. I just wanted to see them so badly. So, when I raced out of the building at just after 3:00 p.m. I immediately called my mother and talked to her for only a short bit, but she promised me that she would listen to me when she got home from Education Week.

The big problem with clinical is that, although I get off work at 3:00 p.m., I don't actually get home until 4:30 or 5:00 because I take UTA Trax and it takes forever. So, it was a pleasant surprise when I got home; my brothers and sister were waiting for to get home so that we could all go to dinner together (hurray for Panda Express and Arctic Circle shakes!). It was a welcome stress-free environment. I felt like I had been to Hell and back that day, and all I needed was some time with my family. That is the best thing that I have noticed about doing clinical: I have gained a greater appreciation for my family because they will love me no matter what, and they will be more patient with me than others will. I love my family deeply, and I can't imagine not having my own family in the future someday...