"Secret" Powers

I have to "come out" again for the third time. Okay, not really, but I have to tell everyone that I believe in "The Secret." I've described my experiences with it before, but I've again recently felt its simple power in my life and want to share it with you so that you can use its power in your life, too.

Back in April, I applied for a position at Logan Regional Hospital that I just knew that I would be offered. It didn't end up happening, and it was my third interview at that hospital in the O.R. I was disappointed but I knew the the Lord had a plan for me. After moving home I applied for several more jobs through Intermountain Health Care (IHC). Nothing seemed to come to fruition from it all and I began to become discouraged. However, a slew of positions opened up at around the same time late last month and I applied for the ones that were within my scope-of-practice.

Now, I don't know exactly when I started implementing "The Secret" in this situation, but I will describe the process. One day, without any prior thought, I grabbed a piece of paper and wrote down the six jobs that I wanted the most (that I had already applied for) in random order:

"Surgical Tech - PCMC"
"CP Tech - Alta View / Nights"
"CP Tech - LDS Hospital"
"PSR - WJ Clinic"
"Peds Tech - PCMC SDS"
"CP Tech - PCMC"

And below that, I wrote the following paragraph about the one job I wanted the most:

"I finally got a job at Alta View Hospital. I work graveyards in Central Processing. It pays well and I LOVE the hours! I am so glad this one is mine! Thank you, Heavenly Father. I am blessed & loved.

Drew Stelter, CST"

Now, almost every day following that I retraced the paragraph with a different stylus: the first time I wrote it in pencil; the next time in black pen; the next time in blue pen; the next time in an orange highlighter, etc... I did this to remind myself each and every day that I had nothing to worry about - that I would get a job and that He would provide for me. I expressed my gratitude during prayers not that I had a job or would get this specific job, but that I felt loved, cared for, and provided for. I knew that a job would come.

A while went by (at least 10 days) and I had received no contact from any hospital about interviewing. I did receive one or two "thanks, but no thanks" emails, however.

Then, one day, I had to travel to the Tech Center to drop off a form for Greg (my Surgical Tech instuctor) to fill out. He used to work at Alta View full-time and then left to start teaching; he still works in the O.R. and in C.P. as a PRN during the summer months. Anway, I dropped off my form and he said, "John called me." I asked, "Who's John?" It turns out that "John" was John Palmer, hiring manager in the C.P. department at Alta View. Greg had said to John, "You would be absolutely crazy not to hire Drew." In fact, John had called Greg with three names - all names of former students of Greg's. And Greg told him to hire me! This pumped me up and I was just waiting for that phone call.

The next week I got the phone call and scheduled an interview for the CP Tech position at Alta View. I finally felt like things were going my way! The very next day, HR called again and wanted to schedule an interview for the CP Tech position at LDS Hospital. I scheduled it - at this point, why would I turn down an interview?!

The night before my interview at Alta View, I took that piece of paper and retraced the paragraph in permanent marker. I did this on purpose - a symbolic act of "sealing the deal" or making it permanent. I said a prayer and went to bed.



At the interview the next day, six candidates had been invited so as to interview all at once and then individually. I was the last to interview individually, and right before I went in to interview I wrote the paragraph once more in the notebook I was carrying.

The interview at LDS Hospital went very much the same way. I did not rewrite the paragraph this time. Oddly enough, I felt as though I was wasting my time there - I just knew I was going to get the Alta View position. But then Anjellah arrived and waited in the hall for John Hancock to come (Anjellah was who I deemed my competition at the Alta View interview and John Hancock was the HR recruiter at both interviews). I overheard Anjellah telling John that she had accepted another position and would not interview for the LDS Hospital position. Oh CRAP! went through my mind at that point - she had gotten the Alta View position! I stepped up my game and thought that I gave a better interview the second time around.

Yesterday, John Hancock called and offered me the Alta View position as a CP Tech. I immediately accepted! Today I went to fill out all my papers to prove that I am not an illegal immigrant and do not have TB! Haha!

It is important to point out that I had the distinct feeling during one of my prayers that I would have to make a choice. I assumed that this choice would be between the jobs at Alta View and LDS Hospital. I also thought that this choice might be between the CP Tech position at Alta View and the Surgical Tech position at PCMC. It turned out to be the latter. It is ironic because I have been trying to get a job at PCMC for six months. I thought it would be fairly easy because I performed a rotation there, but it has been extremely difficult. Today, though, PCMC called and wanted to set up an interview for tomorrow for their Surgical Tech position! I declined - even though it pays $3.32 more per hour than the position I accepted at Alta View. The Lord works in mysterious ways, doesn't He? I'm disappointed that the timing was off, but I felt that I should be grateful for what I have already received - only then can I let new blessings come into my life. Plus, I like the hours better - I don't want to have to wake up at 5:30 every morning! Haha!

That, ladies and gentleman, is the most important part of "The Secret" (the two-minute segment starting at 9:15 is especially pertinent) - allowing new things to come into your life by being grateful for what you already have.

Why I Voted for Barack Obama

Barack Obama has been elected to be the 44th President of the United States. Wow! I woke up today and felt so happy that America got it right. The fact that he happened to be African-American was just a plus; he exemplifies common sense, something that George W. Bush can't even say! I will explain why I voted for him.

FACT: The number one reason why Barack Obama got my vote was because of his proposed tax policies. Now, I also happen to know that this is one of the top reasons why some people voted against him, but that's because they didn't fully understand his policies. Every individual making more than $250,000 annually will see a tax increase; every individual making less than $250,000 will see his or her taxes at or below George W. Bush era levels.

ANALYSIS: For the past eight years, we have seen the biggest tax cuts in decades go to Fortune 500 companies (which includes some oil companies), their respective CEOs, and the top one percent of wealthy Americans. These companies are pulling in record profits; Chevron just reported its biggest quarterly earnings in its 129-year history last week, and we are in a recession!

John McCain mentioned in the last debate that America has one of the highest corporate tax rates in the world. However, a study by the United States Congress released a few months ago reported that two-thirds of all American companies do not pay taxes due to loopholes in the system.

Barack Obama was criticized for saying he wanted to "spread the wealth." In my opinion, he should have said that he wanted to "bring back some balance." The middle class has been ignored for the past eight years; it's our turn now! The majority of McCain supporters I've talked to say that they would never vote for Barack Obama because he will "raise our taxes." My question to them is this: "Do you make over $250,000 annually?"

I rest my case.

FACT: Barack Obama favors universal healthcare; Republicans call this "Socialism." John McCain's solution to the problem is to give uninsured families a $5,000 tax credit to pay for market-based insurance. Also, members of the United States Congress get taxpayer-funded healthcare through the Federal Employees Health Benefits Program (FEHBP).

ANALYSIS: According to the National Coalition on Health Care, the average cost for annual health insurance for a family of four in 2007 was $12,100. Sorry, John McCain, but your plan isn't going to cut it!

However, I don't think that Barack Obama's solution should be the first approach...

While taking classes for my Surgical Technology major, I and my classmates learned that in America there are no price caps for medical supplies, including medications; this is why any hospital in America can, and does, charge patients $5 for one pill of Tylenol. It is not uncommon for medical supply companies to impose mark-ups of 1,000 percent on products. And I know this to be true because I've had experience with it during my clinical rotation as a Surgical Tech...

As a Surgical Technologist, it is my responsibility to open sterile supplies for every procedure onto a sterile back table. Here's the catch: some of these supplies may never be used! Because they were opened, however, hospital policy requires the O.R. Nurse to charge the patient for them. That is why it is important for me to know the procedure like the back of my hand, so that I can implement some cost-effectiveness when I open sterile supplies. Another example of unethical charging by hospitals are policies that require the O.R. Nurses to charge the patient for a 50-mL bottle of "local" when only 5-10 mLs were drawn up and used; and because the bottles are multi-use, policies like these allow hospitals to charge five different patients for five bottles of "local" when a total of just one 50-mL bottle of "local" was ever actually used.

Thus, my position on solving the health care crisis is more regulation of these companies through the implementation of price caps. If the cost of healthcare is driven down, it will become more affordable to all.

However, I had to choose the lesser of two evils and I do believe that universal health care is a better solution than a $5,000 tax credit.

The bottom line is that if members of Congress have taxpayer-funded healthcare, and if prisoners in Guantanamo Bay have taxpayer-funded healthcare, then every legal citizen of the United States of America is entitled to taxpayer-funded healthcare. Period.


Don't get me wrong, however. Barack Obama is not perfect; I don't agree with him on everything. For example, I don't support his "pro-choice" position on abortion. And while I support "green" technology, it is often expensive; it should not be a top priority right now, especially when we are in a recession. And I didn't support his vote (and McCain's) for the recent bailout of the banking industry.

The following is a journal entry of mine from January 27th, 2008:

"...The second most recent thing was my 18th birthday on Wednesday, January 23rd. It's supposed to be one of those big, special birthdays but it didn't feel like one. It was just another day. I won't feel the power from it until this November, when I will be able to vote for U.S. President. I've been watching both the Democratic and Republican debates and am pretty pleased with the Democratic candidates. The only Republican candidate I like is Romney. I like him because he is so business savvy and optimistic. His whole record has been turning things around. He did that with the 2002 Winter Olympics here in Salt Lake. If he wins the nomination, I will vote for him. If he doesn't, I will vote for whoever the Democratic nominee is, whether it be Obama or Clinton. Obama is so full of optimism and is truly inspiring. I've heard older Americans talk about him as the next JFK. The only time he is negative is when he responds (and rightly so) to Clinton's attacks. A Romney v. Obama ballot would be so hard for me to handle..."

However, I feel like he understands the plight of the average American trying to make ends meet in 2008. And that is why I voted for Barack Obama.

We welcome you, Mr. President.

High Expectations

I have high expectations for the upcoming week. I just hope that at least one of these expectations is met; maybe next week won't be a total failure. I am cautiously optimistic.

As everybody already knows, the 2008 Presidential Election is just over two days away and the stakes couldn't be higher. To me, the choice for United States President is crystal clear; some of you already know whom I voted for (yes, I voted early), and some of you don't; I will formally post who I voted for and why on Monday.

I also have high expectations for Tuesday night, when I will meet with my therapist for the first time in months. Some recent events in my life have forced me to seek outside help. I will not disclose most of these events here because they are either too personal or involve confidentiality with another person or both. However, I am also meeting with her because I need some help in organizing my thoughts and feelings before I head off to Logan in almost exactly two months. I am both scared and excited to move, and I really need some help.

I have high expectations of myself; I got one bad evaluation last week at PCMC and I need to be a superstar this next week. The evaluation was filled out by one of my preceptors, so it wasn't really official. But I have hope that it will not put a stain on my name because in talking with my Nurse Educator, Sean, he thought that she had been too hard on me because of the difficulty of the cases that day and due to the fact that three other people who had precepted me had filled out evaluations that had directly contradicted what this preceptor had said about me. I'm just crossing my fingers.

There's more that I'm anticipating and that I have high expectations for, but for now I am choosing to not disclose this information. All I can say is that my depression and anxiety are creeping back again; they've been dormant for the past few months and I am dreading their return!

I ask humbly to be remembered in your prayers. Thank you.

My Second Family; "Hands of Sodom"

This past Friday was one of the best days I have ever had in my entire life. I know that sounds cliche, but it's true...

After class on Friday, Neena, Mari, Chase, Alyx, Scott, Zach, and I hung out all day long. We blasted the radio and drove to Salt Lake City. Mari stopped by her work, I turned in my papers and got my badge at PCMC, and then we headed back to Fort Union to see Nick and Norah's Infinite Playlist. It was the most pointless movie I have ever seen, but that didn't matter to me (even though I am a film buff); I had so much fun with them. I felt so close to them and I feel like we just "get" each other. Politically, we disagree; some of us support McCain and some of us support Obama, but that doesn't matter. We're okay with each other, and diffuse arguments by saying, "Oh that's just (insert name here)." And Neena is a freakin' absolute riot! She will say the funniest things without even blinking an eye. For example, the topic of swearing came up and Neena tried to get Scott to say the f-word. He flat-out refused. She then tried to get him to say the s-word. He flat-out refused again. She decided on a different approach: "Simon says, 'Shit.'" We all busted a gut; it was such a "Neena" thing to say. And then someone brought up a good point: "Wouldn't it be, 'Simon says say 'Shit''? Because 'Simon says, 'Shit'' literally means to take one!" Oh Neena, I love you so much I can't stand it!

After the movie, we chilled for awhile and then drove down Walker Lane. For those of you who don't know, Walker Lane is home to the richest people in Utah (who don't live in Park City). I believe that former Utah Jazz player John Stockton used to live on Walker Lane. Anyway, these homes are far back from the street, hidden by dense trees and high walls, by private lanes with gates. Scott told us about a house on Walker Lane that was supposedly abandoned, so we parked the car and snuck behind the gate to see if it was still empty; we trespassed and were exploring! When we got our first glimpse of the mansion (it looked like plantation house) Neena commented that this was Utah Jazz owner Larry H. Miller's former house. The pool was empty, but the house had furniture in it. We stayed low in the bushes so that no one inside the house could see us, but through the window we saw someone move and we totally booked it out of there! While running, we heard a car starting up and I thought we were going to get caught and arrested. But we weren't. Take that rich people!

We headed up to Salt Lake City again because Mari forgot to do something at work. And by then we were all starving so we ate at the Red Butte Cafe (which is delicious, but overpriced). We had talked earlier about having a "movie night," so we drove back to Fort Union to the Redbox at Wal-Mart and their selection sucked so we drove down the street to Blockbuster. We wanted to rent a movie from the "8 Films" Horrorfest series, but an employee recommended Wolf Creek as the best scary movie they had, so we rented it instead. Back at Neena's house (which she has all to herself for four months because her parents are divorced and her dad is in Iran for business) we chilled on the couch and flipped on the movie. It stank. But, again, it didn't matter. I hadn't hung out with my classmates since June when we graduated high school; this day more than made up for it.

And to boot, I had the opportunity last night to go to a free play with some MoHo buddies at Westminster College entitled Hands of Sodom. It is about Jane, a Mormon teenager who "comes out" to her family twice; the first act shows all the horrible mistakes the characters made with tragic results, and the second act shows how the situation could've been turned into a positive thing for her family. It is kind of reminiscent of the movie Sliding Doors, where one simple thing such as a sliding door can mean life or . Well, I was surprised when I got to the box office booth because right there at the table was sitting Ms. Jenni-Lou Oakes, a former communications teacher of mine. It turns out that she had directed the play. There were no seats left, but she so generously let us stand in the back to watch the first act and, during intermission, she placed three additional seats for us.

Now, for my critique. I enjoyed it; I mean, it's not everyday that you get to see a play about gaay Mormons (especially in Utah). It was fairly good for being put together in just five weeks, but I thought it could've been better. Some of the acting was over-the-top (Jane's brother, for example), and the depiction of a typical Mormon family was missing; the average Mormon family does not have closet-drunks, nor does it take the name of the Lord in vain or use the f-word. I felt that that authenticity wasn't there. However, it was still a good attempt to open people's eyes to the fact that some Mormons are gaay and that they are trying to handle this conflict with their faith in the best way possible. I admire Jenni-Lou for being willing to stand up for something she believes in, especially in a state that isn't known for its political or culltural diversity.

My Saving Grace

I am currently enjoying a long weekend thanks to SLCC's Fall Break. I didn't go in to work today, and I don't have school tomorrow morning. This is very welcome, as next week will be my last at the University of Utah Hospital and I will immediately jump into my next facility the following week.

For some background knowledge, my instructor has clinical spots lined up from Ogden to American Fork. For those of you who don't live in Utah, Ogden is about 1.5 hours north of Salt Lake City, while American Fork is about 30-45 minutes (depending on traffic) south of Salt Lake City. So the range of possible facilities for him to send me and others to is pretty diverse; it includes both hospitals and outpatient surgical centers. And, according to him, he always sends his best student to Primary Children's Medical Center (PCMC). This hospital is nationally ranked and treats only pediatric patients. He only has one clinical spot there for the next rotation.

Well, this past Wednesday he called me (on my cell phone - how cool is that!?) and asked me if I would feel comfortable at PCMC; he does this only for this facility because he knows that not everyone is comfortable working with children. I told him that I am all for it; it is an Intermountain Healthcare (IHC) facility after all. (I need to get hired with IHC to be able to transfer up to Logan Regional Hospital while I am going to school at Utah State University.) Also, I don't mind working with children at all. While I am not sure yet, because I have never worked with them, I suspect that I may actually prefer to work with children. I get this from my mom; she is a Registered Nurse and has worked with children all her life. In fact, she did a clinical rotation at PCMC while she was in nursing school and was hired there after she graduated.

I regret not sounding excited enough about this opportunity on the phone with my instructor; I tend to communicate more mechanically than emotionally.That's just part of my personality and, while I certainly try to balance things out, it will probably always be that way.

However, I feel so grateful for this opportunity. The fact that he and his assistant instructor (who is freakin' awesome as well) feel like they can trust me enough to send me there is an amazing feeling!

To have my instructors' faith and backing gives me a much-needed confidence booster. I, like everyone, second-guess my skills and abilities at times. And because of the nature of the University Hospital, I haven't gotten alot of feedback on my progress. The reason my instructor sent me there was because it is a clinical site where students are expected to police themselves and act independently. For example, most facilities assign their students specific rooms for the day; the University Hospital expects its students to assign themselves to rooms. In fact, I was once scolded by my nurse educator for waiting for her to assign me! I wasn't able to gauge where my skills were at until the assistant instructor communicated some information to me at one of her random weekly clinical site visits. She communicated to me that my nurse educator told her the following: "Drew is doing great, and here's how I know: No news is good news, and I've heard good news about Drew." Now, I know that that quote probably doesn't make sense at first, but I'll explain. My preceptors (Surgical Technologists whom I train with side-by-side during cases) are free to communicate absolutely anything about students (whether negative or positive) to my nurse educator. The reasoning is this: if they have something negative to report to her, they report it. But if they have something positive to report, they either say nothing or they report it. And if they elect to say nothing, it is either because my performance was just average or because they are lazy. My nurse educator assumes that if nothing is reported to her then she has doesn't have to worry about me because there are no major complaints. However, she has heard "good news about [me]." This means that I have impressed my preceptors enough that they were compelled to communicate about my progress to my nurse educator. Up until the assistant instructor communicated this to me about two weeks ago I had nothing on which to base my progress.

I feel like the past seventeen months have been worth it and that all my hard work is finally coming to fruition. All I have done is put forth my best effort, and I am glad that that best effort is good enough for my instructors, for my facilities, and for me. However, by no means am I perfect. I haven't always completed my homework 100%; I haven't always stayed awake in class; I haven't always made it to the University Hospital every day that was expected of me. However, I feel like I have put forth the best effort I could, especially given the issues and situations I've faced the past seventeen months: I was seeing a therapist at LDS Family Services nearly the whole time; my family took in a foster child just three months into my schooling and we are officially adopting her in mid-October; I have had to go through the repentance process (more than once); and I have "come out" to several people during this time period...

And I know that I couldn't have done all of this had Heavenly Father not strengthened and sustained me and my efforts. I owe it all to Him. He has blessed me even though I have made major blunders in the past seventeen months. He stuck by my side and knew that, at times, all I had to hold on to in this life was the completion of the Surgical Technology program. Yes, I have had suicidal thoughts in the past seventeen months, although those feelings have come and gone. There was one time this past spring when I came extremely close to following through on those thoughts, but I didn't because I at least wanted to see myself through the program; it has been a Saving Grace for me. It was the one consistent thing in my life besides therapy. Looking back, I suspect that I subconciously knew that, and that's probably why I've put more effort into this than into anything else in my life. All I can say is that I'm going to have an extremely difficult time when it all comes to an end in early December, even though I will stay involved through being on the program's Advisory Committee.

I'm so grateful that I was accepted into this program. The competition was and is apparently tough, something I didn't really grasp until after I was accepted and my instructor was reviewing test scores and applications for the next group of students. It is truly something that I was meant to do. And Heavenly Father knew that. He has guided me, directed me, and enabled me to get to this point. I feel blessed and loved by Him. But most important of all, I feel that He cares about me and my life, and it feels overwhelmingly sweet to be able to call Him my ally.

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...