Last night, I came closer to dying than I ever have before. And it was totally awesome!
I joined my friends Jason and Dallin in going to Asylum 49 in Tooele. Due to some bad directions (no thanks to MapQuest!) we ended up going to Castle of Chaos instead, but the biggest and best scare of my life came while driving on Bacchus Highway while in the process of heading back to New Bingham Highway.
It was about 8:00 p.m. and I was squinting to see the turn lane up ahead to my left. Unbeknownst to me, there was a buck standing in the middle of the road about 100 yards ahead! Well Jason and Dallin saw it but didn't say anything because it was still far enough away and they thought I would go around it. Well 100 yards became 75, and then 50, and at about 100 feet Dallin screamed, "DUDE! What the Hell?!" I swerved to miss the buck and its antlers missed my car by about only five feet! Jason, who was sitting in the middle back seat, was practically laying across mine and Dallin's laps at this point. All of our hearts were beating so fast that you'd thought we had just run a marathon together by listening to us breathe. We all just busted out laughing and decided it was the coolest thing that had ever happened to us. Dallin made the comment that we might as well not go to a haunted house anymore because after this anything would be a letdown. I then joked that, "Oh no it wouldn't. This was just some horror fore.play!" So what was the first thing I did after all of this happened? Well of course I pulled out my cell phone and texted about thirty people that I had almost died and killed my two best friends in the process! It reminded me of I Know What You Did Last Summer when the teenagers hit that fisherman on an isolated road at night. It was pure adrenaline.
However, I know that my Heavenly Father was protecting us in that moment; He sent some guardian angels to protect us from harm. Honestly, my reflex was so fast that it was more than human. It literally reminds me of the Carrie Underwood song, "Jesus, Take the Wheel." I fully recognize His intervention in this situation, and am so grateful that He continues to bless my life knowing that I am so far from perfect it's not even funny. I have renewed my efforts in prayer and continue to try to do the best that I can; after all, isn't that all He asks of each one of us?
As for tonight, Jason, Dallin, and I are going to stay up all night and watch scary movies: House of Wax, The Omen, The Strangers, and Mortuary. The night's gone great so far; we got three free chicken sandwiches from the new Chik-Fil-A in Jordan Landing! And Alyx might come over tonight. Either way, it'll be a great night and I'm sure there'll be moments we'll all remember. After all, Jason is leaving for his mission in January; it's going to be incredibly hard for me because we've been best friends since sixth or seventh grade. But this Halloween has already been one I'll always remember.
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.
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.
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.
I heard the song, "Answer," by Sarah McLachlan today and it seems to have struck a chord. I am a great fan of hers, and her songs are so touching and always have an emotional impact on me. Here are a the lyrics and a video:
I will be the answer At the end of the line I will be there for you While you take the time In the burning of uncertainty I will be your solid ground I will hold the balance If you can't look down
If it takes my whole life I won't break, I won't bend It will all be worth it Worth it in the end 'Cause I can only tell you what I know That I need you in my life When the stars have all gone out You'll still be burning so bright
Cast me gently Into morning For the night has been unkind Take me to a place so holy That I can wash this from my mind The memory of choosing not to fight
If it takes my whole life I won't break, I won't bend It will all be worth it Worth it in the end 'Cause I can only tell you what I know That I need you in my life When the stars have all burned out You'll still be burning so bright
Cast me gently Into morning For the night has been unkind
Earlier this evening, I had the opportunity to attend an event at my former high school called, "Rachel's Challenge," and what a blessing it was!
Rachel Scott was the first student killed on April 20, 1999 at Columbine High School. Throughout her life, Rachel thought to herself and told others that she knew she was going to die early by homicide. This made her feel close to Anne Frank, whom she viewed as a hero (ironically, she was killed on Adolf's birthday). She filled her life with positive things and continued to be a friend to everyone.
At this presentation, several of her writings were shown, including an essay, journal entries, and doodles on her notebook. After her funeral was televised on CNN (its most watched event ever - at least at the time), a man from across the country called her father and told him about a dream he had been having for awhile. In this dream, the man saw a weeping woman, her tears falling to the ground. When her tears touched the ground, a glorious Columbine flower (Colorado's state flower) shot up. Rachel's father thought the man was crazy until he found her sixth diary (which was in her backpack when she was shot and had been held in police evidence for weeks). Although every entry of her's had been in writing, her (very last) entry on April 20, 1999 was a picture: two eyes in the top left corner and tears falling to the ground, a glorious Columbine flower shooting up. Rachel's father was stunned and lost his breath. Upon further examination, he discovered that there were thirteen empty tear drops located above the flower; at and below the top of the flower the tears were filled in to resemble bloood. Thirteen people were killed at Columbine High School that day.
After her funeral, her father started an organization calledRachel's Challenge. This organization is based on five challenges Rachel described in her diary.
Rachel always knew that she was destined for greatness. In her earlier years, she pulled back her dresser in her bedroom, traced her hands on it, and wrote the following message to the world: "These hands belong to Rachel Joy Scott and will someday touch millions of people's hearts." She has touched mine.
Furthermore, she had always said when she was younger that she would someday be a famous actress. That is about to come to fruition; her father has signed a deal with a Hollywood studio to bring her story to life. This movie will further her message and truly change the world!
To close, I will share my favorite quote of her's that was found doodled on one of her notebooks:
"I WILL NOT BE LABELED AS AVERAGE!"
What a great example for us to follow. If you do nothing else, dare to dream. Just like Rachel did.
I sincerely hope that this is not off-putting to any of you, but this is my time to brag! You see, I was recently featured in my city's newspaper, the West Jordan Journal, and I wanted my readers to at least have a link to the article. It conveniently serves as an introduction to my time at the National HOSA (Health Occupations Students of America) Convention that was held recently in Dallas, Texas. It is fairly short and covers some of the things I've already written about on my blog, but it's worth a look - but of course I would say that!
On Sunday night, I learned that my cousin Natalie is engaged to her Navy boyfriend Nathan. This is shocking news for several reasons. First, she is only one month older than me, which means that she is only eighteen years old at the moment. Second, her sister just barely got married in July of this year. Third, as far as I know, Natalie has met her fiance only a few times in person; he has been stationed in Florida for the past several months. They communicated by text message until he came home to Utah recently for a few weeks - and now she's got The Rock. And last, she and Nathan are moving to Washington State after they get married.
Now here's the good news: they are getting married on January 24th, 2009 - the day after my nineteenth birthday! You may be wondering why that's news at all, not to mention good news. It is good news because I have decided to not serve a mission; I may serve later, but I will not be serving from age nineteen to twenty-one. Therefore, her marriage will be a distraction for my relatives, and I may not receive as much (negative) attention for not serving! When I heard this, I breathed a sweet sigh of relief.
But it gets even better. My mother and her sisters went to "Swiss Days" (a craft fair of sorts) this weekend, and this is where the news of Natalie's impending wedding was divulged. Other family topics were discussed as well - including me and a possible mission. My mother said to her sisters, "Actually, Drew doesn't really want to go on a mission. In fact, he has decided to not go." All I can say is that I never would've had the courage to admit that to my relatives until the time came that it was already obvious that I wouldn't be serving. It's something that I stress and think about alot, and I especially worry about telling friends and neighbors in my ward. Judgment, it sometimes seems, is inevitable. Anyway, the reaction? My aunts responded positively; not positively as in they don't want me to serve, but as in they support my right to make my own decision. "I wish for him to go, but I don't think that any young man should be serving if he doesn't have his whole heart in it; I don't want to force him, because that's not a good situation," was my mother's follow-up statement. According to my mom, her sisters concurred. Obviously, this is great news because now that my relatives (at least my aunts, who will predictably inform their families) know that I won't be serving they most likely won't bother or badger me about the 'Why?" question. I'm frustrated that I'm not able to divulge certain information now, but I have full confidence that all will be revealed (and work out) in the end.
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 hugebreath, 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...
My Bishop sometimes sends me quotes when he gets impressions that I need to hear a particular phrase. I received the following quote from him today:
"Forgive all who have offended you, not for them, but for yourself." - Harriet Nelson
This statement really struck me because it is so true. Just think about it: the grudges we hold only affect our own person (as long as they are not acted upon in the form of passive aggressiveness or some other form of retaliation). These angry, bitter feelings fester inside until they reach the boiling point and spill over. They literally poison our hearts. Do you really want to do that to your own heart?
Sometimes I catch myself holding grudges - which I know I should not, and cannot afford, to do. Remember, you cannot even begin to forgive yourself until you have completely forgiven others. So why hold back? Doing so only hurts yourself, and that action (in any form) hinders your potential progress as a Child of God. Share the love, forgive, and most important of all: forget.
