sick.

It was another hard day yesterday. Not because of the patients. But this time, I was the one that was sick. I’d had some indigestion for the two days prior, originally attributing it to something I ate. But on Monday morning when I woke up with stomach cramps, I knew it was something else—perhaps a friendly little virus that decided to set up camp in the rugal folds of my intestines? Probably.

I tried to tough-it-out. I tried to make it through the day. But I knew the day was off to a bad start when I had to use the restroom three times before and after one patient. Finally, my attending told me I looked sick & that I needed to go home.

His instructions were followed by at least 7 hours of sleep and a bowl of chicken noodle soup. I’m sticking to the B.R.A.T. diet for the next few days (bananas, rice, applesauce, and toast).

Kind of a crummy way to end such a great weekend? Or to start a new week, whichever way you look at it. I’ve gone home (to NC) each weekend so far & hopefully will be able to keep up the trend. With deployment on the horizon & away-rotations all over the country, Jon & I are trying to soak up as much time together as possible…

death & the hospital.

The hospital does things to people. It makes sick people sicker instead of encouraging healing. It causes people to revert back to childhood, appearing psychotic when the sun goes down (interested? Look up “sun downing”). And under one industrialized metal roof, it tends to highlight the joys & tragedies of life.

I was exhausted this weekend. And despite my physical exhaustion from a week of emotional transition, it seemed I was more than emotionally exhausted.

My patients came from different backgrounds. Enjoyed their place in different socioeconomic brackets. Regularly ate different foods for breakfast—the man in room 207 preferred pancakes & grits while the woman in room 368 insisted on eggs with salt & pepper beside one plain piece of white toast. And most of all, my patients made me open my textbooks to vastly different chapters with the slew of ailments they were admitted for.

I’ll be the first to admit that I didn’t consider myself a normally emotional person. I was able to detach my frontal lobe when necessary, reattaching it only every once-in-awhile to let out a good cry…or something of the sort. And I could say that it is all jon’s fault—that he is the one who makes me cradle my frontal lobe like its my beloved teddy bear. That he is the one that is causing all this emotional turmoil when I arrive at work each day—he is responsible for the growing collection of wet Kleenex in my pocket when I leave patients rooms with tear-stained cheeks. That I fell in love with him, causing my girl-crying-hormones to come out of hiding.

But if I blamed it all on him, I’d be lying to myself.

Because in addition to all those things that the hospital does, it also stirs up my emotions & leaves my brain spinning in utter exhaustion each night when I try to close my eyes. I try to imagine the patients in their homes. The smells. The sights. The sounds. I try to imagine them surrounded by loving family members, instead of the silence that pierces their hospital rooms. And I try to dream up all the beautiful places they’ve been, the fulfilling lives they’ve lead, and the belief that sustains my imagined faith for each one of them. But sometimes, my imagination only takes me so far….

And when I try to imagine farther, it ends up being make-believe.

I lie in bed at night & try to dream up fairytale lives for my patients in an effort to quell my own uneasiness about their transition from life to death. Inevitably, I’ve started thinking more & more about my own death; the death of my family members, my parents, my husband. My mind spins for what seems like hours…at which point I reach for the almost-empty Kleenex box that was newly opened last Sunday. And eventually I fall asleep to a pillow, moistened by my own tears of fear; evidence that despite my hard-knock façade, these realizations have biopsied the core of who I am…and what I believe.

I’ve never really faced the reality of my own death before. And although rather morbid, this Internal Medicine rotation is not only challenging me medically, it is also challenging me spiritually. It is causing me to ask the hard questions—the questions that, three weeks ago, I thought I had solid answers to. It is causing me to reflect on my own life and realign my priorities. And it is causing me to engage my own human reflex by scooping up my feelings & thoughts & priorities & life & putting them in my OWN “safe bag”—one guarded from negativity & the prospect of tragedy infecting my household.

Try as I might to resist sleep at night, God opens my eyes each morning with a new reminder that HE is ultimately in control. And when my feet hit the floor, God reminds me that HE has lessons to teach me this year. When my eyes focus & I sit down with my Bible, HE has consistently given me verses like this each morning:

“Now we know that if the earthly tent we live in is destroyed, we have a building from God,

an eternal house in heaven, not built by human hands.

Meanwhile we groan, longing to be clothed with our heavenly dwelling,

because when we are clothed, we will not be found naked.

For while we are in this tent, we groan and are burdened,

because we do not wish to be unclothed but to be clothed with our heavenly dwelling

so that what is mortal may be swallowed up by life.

Now it is God who has made us for this very purpose

and has given us the Spirit as a deposit, guaranteeing what is to come.

Therefore we are always confident and know

that as long as we are at home in the body we are away from the Lord.

We live by faith, not by sight…

so we make it our goal to please him, whether we are at home in the body or away from it

…Therefore, if anyone is in Christ, he is a new creation,

the old has gone, the new has come! "

-2 Corinthians 5: 1-7, 9, 17

I know God is trying to teach me to LET GO. To GIVE IT UP. And to TRUST HIM. But as you well know, TRUSTING is my biggest struggle.

Perhaps this is the year of breakthrough.

best past medical history

"For a period of two months, patient said she wasn't feeling well.

She reported that she felt like killing people.

She is feeling much better now."

-Physician SOAP note

{as if that should make me feel better}

daily {pixels}

i'm kind of in love with these photographers. and by "love", i mean that i feel kind of sad when i can't check their blog.

why??

because they are amazing. because they have darn cute kids. because they have an incredible eye through their lens. because they capture moments i've never seen in photographs before. and because they are honest, hilarious, & crazy cool in each of their blog posts :)

i'll miss these days.

little did i know, but our time together this summer would really change the attitude of our weekends this year. before living together, there were times that i felt we were "making up" for lost time on the weekends, spending the majority of our days on-the-go & most of our nights hurridly talking through conversations we might have had during the week.

but i think we've relaxed a bit. perhaps its just that we are comfortable around each other now, that we've been married over a year. or perhaps its because our attitudes towards life are changing & we are taking the time to slow down and enjoy the moments of solitude we have on the comfort of our own couch.

whatever it is, i LOVE IT. because it makes for a great weekend :)

golf. homemade wheat pizza with fresh vegetables from the garden (the crust & everything!). bbq with friends. movie night. errands. and time together. i gosh-darn-love saturday & sunday!

daily {pixels}

that little light in their eyes? its called catch-light...and it is the subject of jealousy to any photographer you talk to.

i get lucky sometimes...and it slips into my photos. cloudy days are best. high ISO + low shutter speed makes for two very alive eyeballs on the other side of the lens.

but if i could just nail the interaction--that moment-in-time LOVE that glows from her pictures.

...working on it :)

a man born blind.

I reviewed his chart before I entered the room. Admitted to the hospital last night, his lab tests were dismal. Low WBCs. Anemia. Urine sedimentation. Bilateral lung infiltrates. Blood cultures pending, although they would likely be positive. All the evidence pointed to severe pneumonia & sepsis. His body would shut down without medical intervention. Infection would take over, stopping kidney filtration, dropping his blood pressure, & finally affecting the other important organs inside his Earthly cage of skin, muscle, & bone.

As I stood up to put the blue binder back in the metal holder, I noticed a sign on the sliding glass door. Printed haphazardly on a sheet of white computer paper were the words “Patient is blind & deaf”. An announcement to each passerby: FEEL SORRY FOR THE MAN INSIDE THIS ROOM.

The blue checkered curtain that now hung between his sleeping body & my own ran vertically from floor to ceiling. Hung to protect the patient’s privacy; it was a bit of an oxymoron, based on the scarlet letter that hung just two feet from where I was standing.

His half opened mouth & emaciated limbs greeted me at the edge of the curtain. Tangled in a pile of sterilized white blankets he looked peaceful with legs bent & strung sideways beneath the mound of cloth that was meant to keep him warm. Long, thin arms were folded across his chest, moving slowly with the rise & fall of his respirations. Silent, labored breathing filled the room alongside the beeps of his IV drip & low whistle of the oxygen supply that was slowly feeding his ever-failing lungs.

At 52, his hair had already grayed. His protruding jaw & tightly skinned lips exposed the poor dentition that had carried him through his meals of applesauce & bananas since infancy. His skin was shiny, hands strangers to the rigors of a life of labor & physical work. With overgrown cuticles, the small pieces of lint & dirt that nestled themselves underneath his fingernails were the only evidence of mobility I could find.

But really, I didn’t blame him. He’d been born deaf & blind. Unable to see the face of his mother, who was now clearly gone from his life. His deafness had prevented him from hearing the sweet sounds of music, the laughter of children, and joys of the Holiday Season. Imagine. Never hearing Christmas bells, the harmonious tune of flute, or the soft “I love you” of a mother’s whisper.

At that moment, though, I was grateful he was deaf. Grateful that his condition prevented him from hearing the constant beeps & whistles & bells that fill the sterile corridors of the hospital. Grateful that his condition protected his confidence from hearing the nurses’ sour-faced pity about his gravid & quickly decompensating state. And I was grateful that his eyes didn’t carry visual stimuli to his brain; that he was blind to the metal bed cage his body rested in, blind to the worn white walls of his hospital room, and unable to see the look of shame in my own eyes when I first moved the curtain aside.

You see, I judged him. Immediately. I questioned his usefulness in this world. I questioned what God may have been thinking when he allowed the creation of an innocent child who would enjoy a life of only darkness & silence. I questioned the government’s provision of this man with monthly checks that undoubtedly skipped the intended recipient & went into the bank account of his then-absent caregiver. And I questioned my opposition to a child from my own womb that could someday be born without the joy of two of life’s most gratifying senses.

But at that moment, God intervened. And I was overcome with emotion. Careful not to contaminate my face, I had no choice but to let the few drops escape from the corners my eyes. They landed on the lapel of my pressed white coat.

The sounds of beeps & whistles became the shouts of vendors & chatter of people along a street in Jerusalem. The blue checkered curtain, a wooden fence & the tile floor a cobblestone street, my feeble patients bed had turned into a hand-woven rug. It was a busy street. And suddenly…

Walking down the street, Jesus saw a man blind from birth.

His disciples asked, "Rabbi, who sinned: this man or his parents, causing him to be born blind?" J

esus said, "You're asking the wrong question.

You're looking for someone to blame.

There is no such cause-effect here.

Look instead for what God can do.

We need to be energetically at work for the One who sent me here, working while the sun shines.

When night falls, the workday is over.

For as long as I am in the world, there is plenty of light.

I am the world's Light."

He said this and then spit in the dust, made a clay paste with the saliva,

rubbed the paste on the blind man's eyes, and said,

"Go, wash at the Pool of Siloam" (Siloam means "Sent").

The man went and washed—and saw.

–John 9:1-9

And then I knew. Look instead for what God can do. This happened so that the work of God might be displayed in his life (verse 3, NIV).

This man with nothing to say, this patient with nothing to give, reminded me of God’s promise to us. That this body is not eternal, this rib cage that holds our beating hearts will not be the vessel that carries us into eternity. That this life is not the end—we have something much greater to look forward to. And that these joys we experience each day are gifts.

Most of all, however, that this man has been able see. His entire life, He’s been seeing the world’s Light. And the uncomprehendable babbles that later came from this man’s mouth just might have been praises—gratitude to a God who is finally taking him home.

best occupational report

What do you do for a living?

"I'm a hillman--I sit on the hill"

-patient

the first day.

arrive at hospital by 7:30am.
stand by door of medical staff office for 30 minutes.
get mentally lost in hospital corridors with guide.
call P.A. Brandon to follow for remainder of the day.
10:15am: take history from toothless man who happens to be your first patient; write soap note about how patient was entirely noncomplaint, told me to "go away", went to sleep 5 times during the H&P interview, & smelled like rotten garbage.
11:15am: see second patient, a 80 year old man who hit on me.
12:25pm: meet WV woman in elevator whose name is "Bunny"
each salad from the cafeteria where the lunch lady refused to give me more then 1/2 tablespoon cottage cheese.
12:35pm: physically get lost in hospital on my way back to the library from the cafeteria.
12:45pm: find library; scarf down 1/2 tablespoon cottage cheese & small salad.
1:15pm: search 2 hospital floors for attending, who is no where to be found
2pm: meet two other WV woman, whose names were "Barbie" & "Star"
3:27pm: let off for the day.

and then the tears came...

i'm off. already. and its only 4:27pm. its kind of glorious, actually. this rotation should be interesting, to say the least. a learning experience, i am certain...my enjoyment level throughout the journey is what is still to be determined.

to say i'm still emotional about moving here is a bit of an understatement. i was more emotional yesterday than i have been in years--and after jon left i am fairly certain that i not only raised Kleenex stock value, but i probably also swallowed my body weight in snot & tears. so yes, i did greet the mirror this morning with red, swollen eyes (good thing it was picture day, huh?) & a stuffed up nose. and i also did meet the tissue box this morning (& this afternoon) with just a few more tears that needed to escape (notice the mound of kleenex).

i'm learning how to depend on God again. i looked at my "daily inspiration" calendar today and mr. max lucado had this to say....

When you recognize God as Creator, you will admire him.

When you recognize his wisdom, you will learn from him.

When you discover his strength, you will rely on him.

But only when he saves you will you worship him...

Before your rescue, you could easily keep God at a distance...

Then came the storm...Despair fell like a fog...

In your heart, you knew there was no exit...

Suddenly you are left with one option: God.

And i'm at that one option. i'm at that point--between a rock & a hard place where the only option i have is to turn my heart over to Him, to surrender my soul, my tears, and my heart...and discover the grace & comfort His embrace can bring.

but it is the surrendering part that i have trouble with--the giving up & letting go where i get hung-up.

i don't have an option this time. i can't quit school at this point (although days like today i gladly would). jon can't move from NC. and my heart is wretching because this is not what i had envisioned for us....so i'm here. left with my kleenex box & my only option: GOD.

new land

the move has been made. new land. new city. new people. new hospital. new apartment....and one very sad me.

jon left wv today to drive back home. and NC really has become home over the past 3 months. and what a BLESSING this summer together has been. it solidified our marriage, our commitment to eachother, and our ability to tolerate each other for more than 3 days at a time :). it was a breath of fresh air after so much time apart. we are praying that these next 2 years, with all their unknown events, go quickly. and we are praying even more that God will open doors to a residency where we can be together & carry out His plan for us.

it is all a bit intimidating....and a lot emotional, at least for me today. jon is so supportive--i don't deserve him most of the time...but that is for another post entirely :)

i'm excited to post pictures of this very weird-hick-town in the upcoming weeks/months. jon & i laughed yesterday when we walked into the grocery store and heard in the thickest WV accents "y'all come back now, y'hear??". weird billboards. weird store names. weird road-planning....but people are kind. life is slow-paced. and the hospital should be fun....

since parents will probably want to see, here are some pictures of the WV homestead until May 2009....

{the view from the entry hallway}

where did the time go?

people told me i'd be asking that question. but i didn't believe them. my elementary-school head couldn't wrap itself around the fact that, someday, summers wouldn't last 5 years. and Christmas break wouldn't be all about Santa & grandma's chocolate cookies. and then my middle-school brain couldn't wrap itself around the fact that someday i'd want to have a break from my friends for longer then 3 days at a time....or that just like recess ended when 5th grade closed & bras entered my closet, summer break would someday end & a husband would enter my life. and even in high school, i still didn't understand the full extent of just how fast life would fly by me.

but it does. it does fly. it does fly fast.

and so now i'm left wondering where the time went. the time when these two women blossomed. the time when they were still wearing Cinderella panties & eating Mac&Cheese each day for lunch. the time when their world's were still innocent & pure--when their friends weren't falling for cultural norms & when their minds weren't struggling with the temptations that high school inevitable brings. i'm wondering where the time went. the time when pink frills & oversized bows filled their closet. the time when their walls were painted with rainbows & trees. the time when they'd fit in my lap.

and i have a feeling that life will only start to spin faster. and soon enough, i'll be saying this about my own kids, reflecting on these days & how fast they are going.

thank the Lord this life doesn't end when our hearts stop beating. :)

best record of allergies

"Patient is allergic to cocaine...

causes him to 'breakout in handcuffs'"

-Physician record of patient allergies

daily {pixels}

so i've been gone. literally. ...and even if i hadn't been physically gone, my gosh i've been mentally absent! but back to business. back to this "series" of blog posts i swore i'd start. back to reality.

and the reality is that i have to go back to WV in 6 days. i have to sleep without my husband for more days than not for two more years. i have to move on from this place (home now) to another strange city. and the reality is that i'll miss this place. a lot, actually.

and the reality is that i spend far too much time online looking at pictures. my pictures. other peoples pictures. have you even discovered Flickr yet?? seriously??

this lady has my camera. the bottom-of-the-line digital fancy camera. and i want her pictures. in fact, she is one of those people that i might be friends with just so my life could be documented in such a way as this. (okay, i wouldn't ever do that. at least i don't think so....) and i'm just in love with life through her lens...

take a peek

...and then go take some pictures!

best family history

"My mom died of old timers."

-patient

best chief complaint

"i ate a handful of ecstacy because i thought it was popcorn.

i had popcorn in one hand & ecstacy in the other

& i accidentally ate the wrong one."

-patient

daily [pixels]

so i figured i'd start a new post. a series, if you will. about photography. since it seems like the "thing to do" (see here & here). and you know, i'm such a trend follower anyways...(?).

i told my mom last year that if i had to pick one material item that changed my life, i'd choose my camera. and oddly enough, i'd still back up that statement today. because it totally did. it has opened doors of opportunity for me...deepened relationships...and captured unforgettable moments.

which reminds me that i desparately need to get it cleaned.

anyhow. i follow quite a few photographers whose work i drool over. i mean...whose work i admire; yes, yes admire is what i meant. and i'm finding more to drool over each day..... most professionals have fancy equipment that would send my wallet to the deepest layer of the earth. and most of them are all edu-dicated & stuffs about the inner workings of those foreign boxes they hold in front of their eyes.

but not me. i took one film photo class in college that i consider entirely worthless. and i don't have a super fancy high tech space-age camera to show off.

the point, though, isn't the rank of that box i hold in front of my eyeballs. it isn't about how superb my editing software is. and it certainly isn't about how many business calls i get for photo shoots. the point is that i'm capturing moments. lives, stilled in time.

check out this article. i'm pretty sure you'll give your camera a hug after you read it. and while you're at it, i'll take a hug too, actually :)

wide load.

i woke up late on saturday. well, late for my 24 year old self....early for my former 15 year old self. anyways, the point is that i woke up. worked out. ate breakfast. checked my email. and decided that i was headed out on the town. jon was gone until saturday night @ a friends wedding, meaning that i had the entire day to myself. and although i was missing him, there were some things i've been wanting to do that he, quite frankly, isn't so excited about.

so i pointed my car in the direction of the furniture thrift store. i've been looking for some old chairs for my photo sessions. and unfortunately all the chairs at the furniture thrift store (great place, by the way, if i had an unlimited budget & endless space) were too expensive & came in multiples. i just needed 3.

onto the next thrift store. and funny thing that i was disappointed to find that i live in the south. actually, i think i live in the armpit of the south. when i walked into the thrift store, i was met with fake flowers. LOTS of them. like a giant venus fly trap, they trapped me inside & sucked the life out of me. okay, they didn't. but i barely escaped. after i passed the flowers, my old aunt verna's kitchen collection from 1960 hit me in the face. after a quick trip to the thrift doctor, i was ready to sit down. but all i could find were seats for two.

but as soon as i took a second look at all those thrift store loveseats, i realied that they were not the seats i thought they were. they were fat people seats--made to accomodate a wider load. and there were LOTS of them.

weird.

when i went to the flea market a little later on, i was once again attacked by an ENTIRE STORE of fake flowers. and there were "do not touch" signs everywhere--as if your fingers might scar that fine plastic made in china.

weird., again.

this armpit living is not what i'm used to. and i think i don't wnat to get used to it....

up in the air.

i promised more perspective on my Boards...and this whole experience, really. because perspective right now, for me, is something that is in constant flux--ebbing & flowing, rising & setting each day as events change.

at this point in our lives, our future is about as concrete as the mud in my backyard. God has been SO GOOD to us and we've been blessed beyond Earthly measure for many, many things that we certainly don't deserve. looking back on the past 3 years is a true testament to the soverign grace of a Father who has the best in mind for His children. Our prayers--every last one of them--has been answered to an extent above & beyond what we originally prayed for. and yet, one of the greatest struggles of my faith has been to maintain the perspective that God still has the best in mind for His children and will still answer prayers for our future. because things seem so uncertain to us, because i haven't found an accurate crystal ball yet at the Dollar Store, because it seems that the world itself is in flux right now, and becuase i am a need-to-know-er, the FUTURE seems especially daunting right now.

but here is what we do know:
1. i will be back in wv until may of 2009, with a 1 month break (2 weeks vacation, 2 weeks elective clerkship) in december.
2. i will have the freedom to choose the location of my rotations after may 2009, with certain requirements as to the speciality i rotate with.
3. if all goes well, i will graduate may 29, 2010.
4. jon will likely be headed overseas may/june 2009.
5. jon's ETS date is in june 2010.
6. my residency will start in july 2010.
7. jon & i are going to do everything in our power (which really is only prayer) to live together after may 2009 + deployment.

the field of medicine is a little scary right now. the "big shots" at the AMA & ACOP are strictly regulating the number of positions they fund each year (via the government) for residencies. and these strict regulations aren't changing much as the number of schools & the number of students in each class increase. and unfortunately for us, this coincides with the financial regulations of loan repayment without the option of forebearance and decreasing salary-to-cost-of-living ratio's for residency salaries.

to sum it up: the "right" residency for us may be more difficult to find that it would have been 10 years ago.

of course, there is lots to consider in the equation: army commitment, relocation, continued education, lifestyle availability during residency, location, proximity to family/friends, and community. and while all of this will certainly be calculated in the whole equation when we sit down to talk over our options, its ultimately not up to us.

my Board scores are looked at by every residency program director. i'll be scrutinized for why i didn't do better. why i didn't study harder. and how i justify those 3 numbers beside my name. in short, THEY ARE IMPORTANT. and so, although i'm praising the high Heavens that i passed, i'm also confident that God is up to something.

i just wanted to pass. i just wanted to see a 400 next to my name on my score sheet. and although i did pass and i did see something higher than a 400 next to my name on my score sheet, the numbers that met my eyes there weren't as high as i would have liked them. weren't as high as i thought they should be--would be--for the insane number of hours that i studied.

but God answered my prayer to pass.

and now i'm left with a new perspective. i kind of had a feeling that i would pass. i've been studying since March. but by how much i would pass was the question--one that was answered with a large dose of Grace & reassurance....

i know that God will open doors for us. He will make space in the residency He has already set aside for me. He will reveal His plan for our lives, careers, & continued schooling. and He will do it on his timeline. my score on the Boards does reflect my knowledge--but certainly doesn't reflect my character. and i think that by Him answering my prayer to pass...but surprising me with my lower-than-expected score was His way of keeping me HUMBLE...keeping me/us dependent on HIM for our future plans.

because when all is said-and-done, we have no choice but to look to Him anyways. to lay ourselves at the foot of the Cross and praise the mercies he makes new every morning. and like the consistent sunrise that brings warmth each morning, God's consistent blessings will--i am certain--be lit in our lives with time. i did pass. i passed this test. i passed this *stage* of school. but i hope and pray that we have a long future together--one that will constantly need to be surrendered to the all-Knowing.

and this was a perfect reminder that to us, life is up in the air....but then again, so is God :)

simplification.

its 8pm. i've been on the couch for the past 1.5 hours. and on my feet for the 10 hours before that. after my eyes popped open at 5am this morning from a horrible nightmare, my day actually didn't turn out that bad...good, in fact.

and as i'm sitting here listening to the neighbor kids jump on their new (giant) trampoline with their dad, squeals of delight resonating between the backdoors of our shared yards, i'm thinking about our home. and the squeals that may someday be resonating from our backyard (but not yet folks, don't get ahead of yourselves). and its exciting, really. the future. exciting and scary all at the same time.

i've always been a "knower". my mom said that when i was younger, i needed a run-down of the days schedule from the get-go in the morning. i wanted to know what was happening. so my little 4 year old brain could mentally plan for it. {which could explain my heartbroken reaction to the movie Bambi--the totally unexpected loss of Bambi's mama threw my little brain for a loop}. and although my 4 year old brain has grown into a 24 year old brain, i still like to know what is happening in my day from the get-go.

enter the Ultimate Gonga Big Kahuna of all To-Do Lists: The Daily Docket. Oh Moses I am excited to fill this out. my organizing brain squeals with joy at the sight of it. and i'm a bit ashamed to admit that instead of reading the umpteen chapters that i am supposed to get through in the next 3 weeks, i've been looking at blogs. reading about families. and going*green*. and being efficient and frugal and productive. and this blog has won my attention. and depending on the content of the next few weeks of posts, may even make my "daily" list--which is unfortunately getting ridiculously long.

okay. and so did this blog. and this one.

i'm feeling very domestic lately. maybe its just because i'm actually living with my husband and my full "wife-ly" role is finally coming out of the woodwork. or maybe its because there is a growing desire to provide a safe, happy, & healthy environment for us to live in. i'm an odd bird in many ways: i love cleaning. i love organizing. and there are even days that i love folding laundry. i think its the productivity of it all--the swell of satisfaction that almost bursts when i look around my clean house smelling of Pinesol & Downy and realize that i'm totally comfortable here. its a nice feeling, you know? and i certainly don't think jon minds the fact that i break out the yellow cleaning gloves at 5am sometimes when he leaves for work (although lets face it, those 'times' are few & far between).

but this whole domestic thing makes me want to do more. makes me want to BE BETTER about the things that matter most to me. i haven't read my Bible in at least a couple of weeks. i haven't worked out in the morning like i had planned at the beginning of the summer. and i haven't taken the time to finish (much less start) any of the books on my summer reading list. i have cards to write. gifts to send. chapters to read. tests to take. forms to fill out. things to make. memories to document. and relationships to build.

so starts my quest to simplify. to organize. and to be more conscious of how i spend my time...how i direct my thoughts...what i put in my body...and the ways in which i empty my wallet.

meet jack.

our neighborhood two eared, hopping friend.

he is small. and tiny.

and cute-ish.

and quite picky about the carrots he eats.

when i asked jon where he thought his mom was, he told me maybe he doesn't have one. which immediately brought me back to the traumatic first time i watched Bambi as a child. i balled. beside myself, i balled. tears streamed down my red cheeks. i remember hiding under the blanket i was wrapped in. because i didn't know what had happened to Bambi's mama. and then when the truth came out that the cute little white-tailed deer was all alone, it was more than my heart could take.

and so i certainly hope that our little rabbit friend jack has a mama. because i'm emotional enough these days. another outbreak might just make my eyes swell shut. or my tears dry up. or my cheeks turn permantly red. and with another emotional outbreak, i might just climb under the covers of my bed and stay there until june 2010 when i'm supposed to graduate & jon is supposed to be back from deployment and korryn is supposed to throw that ugly square cap in the air and move onto college; when my days will have their own sets of challenges that aren't on the horizon yet.

yes, june 2010. i think i can manage to sleep until then under my blanket. as long as my mama comes to visit.

love.

can i grow old with you?

PLEASE??!!?

delish

in an effort to embrace the peak of summer, i'm excited to get my teeth into one of these. because even though there are fresh veggies & fruits everywhere, i'm still one of those weirdos that eats soup on a 100 degree day.

and i'm also one of those weirdos who isn't grossed out by blood or guts but might barf if you flick a clipped toenail on me. but that's another story.

and i'm aware that after that statement about teeth sinking into things, i might sound like a vampire. or rabbit. either one, depending on whether you favor Rabbit in Winnie the Pooh or that red, iron-rich substance that runs through our bodies.

personally, i'll take Pooh anyday.

household EUREKA!! #1

see that fancy bottle of smell-ness? that you are supposed to spray on your couch & curtains & sniff for hours? you know, like the commercials? yeah, that one....in the photo?

well little did you know that it has been holding out on us. its been a two-timing bottle of smell-ness magic. all this time sitting in my cupboard working its magic at night when in fact, it has had a day job all along.

occuption: FLY KILLER.

its pretty cool stuff. and if you are cool like me, you can pretend you are on a wild safari hunt & the bottle of smell-ness is a taser gun that paralyzes the flies. because lets be honest, that really is what it does!

directions:
1. find nasty germ-munching fly
2. recruit bottle of smell-ness from its slumber in the cupboard
3. sneak up on germ-munching fly
4. spray
5. wipe paralyzed fly up with kleenex
6. wash hands
7. wash hands again
8. take off sanitary suit & remove biohazard tape from area

oh wait. nix #8. that is my other job.

but i'm totally serious. you should try it. and if you don't own a bottle of smell-ness, you should buy one. and if you don't have any flies to kill, you should get some.

if for no other reason than to pretend you are on a wild safari with a taser gun.

in celebration.

well. it's official.

I PASSED.

i found out last night around 6pm. and after my semi-panic attacks each day this week, my armpits decided they were tired of the profuse sweating that happened each time. so they quit--shortly after i found out i wouldn't have to sit through another 8-hour-finger-print-taking test. THANK THE LORD.

we celebrated with dinner, that was really mostly for our anniversary last week. we just didn't have time before last. and i ate way more than i was supposed to. but that has become a regular thing anyhow, so whats new right? after dinner we headed out to a local (crazy!) piano bar for my first social hour since 2006. okay just kidding. but not really.

this morning my eyes popped open at 6:30 (involuntarily, can you believe it??). and since jon was snoring away, i figured i'd make the best use of my time by heading out to some yard sales on post. but i was sorely disappointed to find that all of them were full of pink & blue & toys for tots. and since we won't be needing any of that anytime soon, i stayed in my car & returned home within 30 minutes of leaving.

but it was still early. so i decided to play june cleaver & make fresh bread. what else do people do on saturday morning?
breadmaking adventures lead to a cleaning spree. and then paperwork. and then a long long nap on the couch.

my special request in celebration of passing was a giant milkshake and a trip to the dollar store. jon supported my reversion to childhood & even opened the door for me during our outing (well, he always does that...).

and i'm happy to announce that in addition to the 5 pounds i just gained from drinking the entire milkshake, the dollar store treated me well also. gosh i love that place!


church tomorrow. more cleaning. and the best part?

NO MORE STRESS about Step 1....

more perspective coming soon....

it's all too easy.

i've been distracted lately. and for those who know me, it really isn't anything new.

but this is a new kind of distraction. one that concerns me more than anything else--and makes me nervous about my future...nervous about what my career might mean for our future. and makes me wonder how the thoughts i have racing through my head got there in the first place.

i'm done with Boards. and according to the medical school rumors that fly around like ghosts in the night, scores for my test date are supposed to be released on friday. so given, i'm a bit (okay, a LOT) on-edge this week. i'm distracted. annoyed. anxious. and totally, completely, FREAKING OUT. i've come to realize that i am the queen of pessimism. i prepare myself for the worst, convince my anxiety-laden-self that it will, for sure, happen the way i've prepared myself, wince when i find out the outcome, and breathe a sigh of relief when the Good Lord hands me a better run of cards than i planned on. and in all truth, my pessimistic nature isn't the best approach to life. it isn't good for my health or my psyche, nor is it healthy for my relationships.

and so i'm waiting on scores, finding it all-too-easy to put on my "hat of negativity" and let the smile that could have been on my face evaporate in the 85% humidity.

i don't like my rotation. and to be honest, i haven't been enjoying Family Medicine as much as i expected. and it is a let down. kind of like when you are craving a giant bowl of delicious ice cream & open up the carton only to find that your husband only left one measley spoonful. i was expecting a deluxe ice cream sunday...and i feel like i've only found stacks of paperwork, lack of procedures, fat people with ridiculous complaints, and patients who don't know how to take care of themselves.

maybe my bitterness--you know, the perspective i swore i'd avoid during my medical career?--has gotten the best of me. maybe my impatience has reached its peak, especially when patients come in with a request for hang nail removal...and i walk in the room to find that their toenails are 5 feet long and haven't been clipped since the Ice Age. and maybe my resistance for idiocy is wearing down because of the patients that come in asking ridiculously obvious questions with stupidly obvious answers.

maybe all of it--this WHOLE medicine-thing is just wearing. and i'm not even in practice yet.

WHICH IS MOST CONCERNING OF ALL.

but jon reminded me of something today when he grabbed my face & told me he loved me. he reminded me that no matter how horribly i was graded on my Case Study, no matter how much i depend on my knowledge of this healthcare field, it doesn't matter. if i fail the Boards, if i fail a class, if i am criticized for everything i do by my supervisors, it still doesn't matter. because my focus has been all wrong. like a camera with bad lighting who can't quite find the subject, i've been straining to find my place admist what seems like craziness....

the only problem is that i've been focusing on my performance instead of my PURPOSE.

my PURPOSE during this journey is not to get good grades. it is not to pass the Boards (although that would certainly be nice). it is not to make friends or help the most people. and it is not to show the world that i can be the best student doctor that ever walked this earth.

no, my friends. my PURPOSE here is to pour out grace to those who are poor in spirit. my PURPOSE here is to lend a comforting hand to those who are mourning, to feed the hungry when i have little to spare, and to seek a pure heart. my PURPOSE here is to shine the light of Christ into every heartbeat, to show compassion to those whose lives have been bumpy & broken, and to stand for what i believe in regardless of the trying circumstance.

my PURPOSE here, at this time in my life, is to leave all preconceived notions of performance behind. and to embrace a plan for my life, mastered by the Creator. a plan that may involve hardship, disappointment, poor grades, roadblocks, and failure. and to never forget that the Creator is creating something within me that will outlast any Board scores, patient complaints, peer reviews, & transcripts.

my PURPOSE here is to live. and to love. fully. completely. entirely.

i'm officially....

...completely oblivious to some things. well, a LOT of things (more than i'd like to admit). but perhaps my best blonde moment is the fact that i spelled "breatHing" wrong at the top of my blog banner...and did NOT NOTICE until this morning, approximately 3 months after i changed it.

wow. perhaps a trip back to 2nd grade spelling would be good for me.

summer ice cream.

wanna know what is great? like so great you might wet your pants. or want to kiss your elbow. or give a giant bear hug to the next person you see?







Breyers came out with lactose free ice cream. which means i can eat as much as i want without (ehem!) unwanted consequences. i've consumed 1/2 gallon this week. how about you?



add some fresh raspberries. and caramel. and raw almonds. and chocolate. and lots of "yums" while making.



and prepare your tastebuds for their transport to heaven.



well, almost.



[and if that doesn't look like the yummiest thing in the world to you, perhaps you should kiss your elbow & give a giant bear hug anyway!]

see jon jump

{equipment drop}

{see my shadow??}

{first pass...}

{second pass}

{jon is second in from far right...}

our eden.

we have not inherited the Earth from our ancestors,

we have borrowed it from our children.

-Native American saying-

you know, this whole "go green" trend is kind of ridiculous. i mean, don't get me wrong--i have a strong desire to preserve Mother Nature & be as energy + materially efficient as possible during my short stay here on Earth. but i think the most frustrating thing is the mindset of too much good-and-plenty that American's have adopted. and it is mostly frustrating because it is just that...a trend..which means that someday it will wear off like the last pair of bell-bottoms or blue suede shoes.

it is an anomoly to me that i have become so self-centered that each week when i wheel my smelly, decomposing left overs out to the sidewalk it doesn't phase me that there is another human being that has to handle it. and yet another that has to look at it. and many many more that have to smell it. and it especially doesn't phase me that there are things in my measley bag of trash that will take decades to decompose. and in the meantime give off chemicals & protein compounds that will destory the natural flora of the soil around it. and mess up the eco system entirely.

i'll never forget an article from the Tri-City Herald i read in high school. it was about being more aware of what--and how--we dispose of our "unneeded" waste. they produced a time grid of one dump in a big city and tracked one specific dump spot back to the 1970s (remember this article was published around 2001). and after digging through layers of rotting bananas and last years 'treasured' Christmas presents from the subsequent decades, they came upon perfectly preserved trash bags. and inside those perfectly preserved trash bags were perfectly preserved fall leaves that someone had lovingly raked from their perfectly manicured yard. the point of the article, of course, was that those leaves could have...and should have ...been composted. but instead, here they sit almost 40 years later entirely untouched, full of their natural autumn color, because someone didn't have the fortitude to dig a hole in their own backyard and use natural fertilizer for their landscaping.

and that is just what gets me. plastic water bottles. individually wrapped 100 calorie packs that produce 23,458 times the amount of trash. and ziploc baggies that people throw in the trash as if they will magically disappear. because lets face it, the wonderful "lawn, sewer, and garbage" services that we all (hopefully) pay for does perform those disappearing miracles on our unneeded's each week.

i'm certainly not going to claim that i am perfect. in fact, i've got a long way to go. but there is a strong desire that continues to grow for us to live more efficiently. which, for us, means washing & reusing those ziploc baggies until they are filled with holes & no longer capable of containing foodstuffs. and opting for reusable nalgene's instead of plastic water bottles. and being as efficient as possible with the amount of trash we produce. living more efficiently also means growing more, composting more, and being more aware of the crap we are injecting into the Earth.

and this, our own microscopic Eden, is a humble (yet heartful) start.

early bird.

remember a few months ago when i was trying my best to become a morning person? remember that? well i think my life long quest is well on its way to victory. considering the fact that my husband leaps (literally, leaps) out of bed at 5am each morning, i don't have much room to brag about my morning glories....but i'm still bragging anyways.

i have to be at work each morning at 8am. which means that because i am supposed to be early each day to check on the patient we are going to see throughout the day, i actually have to be at work at 7:45...leaving the house no later than 7:30. and since i'm not much of a primper in the morning, it only takes me 35 minutes and 47 seconds to get ready--bed to door. but most morning there is that shower that i happen to fall asleep in more times than not. oops.

anyways.

i've been getting "up" at 5:30 most mornings with good intentions to work out. that hasn't happened so much. well okay, at all (with the exception of 3 mornings). and i'm sad to admit that as i keep driving through life, i am pretty sure that if i can't claim victory over my morning-ness, i won't ever work out again. its either morning or nothing.

and so THIS morning was quite a shock when i rolled over and saw 6:30 on my alarm clock. you see, i have this morning off from work (i'm supposed to be reading...oops) and don't have to show up until noon. and i woke up VOLUNTARILY with NO ALARM at 6:30 am. did you know that it is barely light by 6:30am?? i did. because i've been getting up at 5:30.

i won't tell you that i rolled over & slept until 8:30 (the hour at which my poor husband had been up for 3.5 hours). and that i am writing on here instead of reading. and that i am fully planning on working out but the Popcorn Moose Munch my mom bought me is sounding much better, even at 9am.

so yeah. early bird--that's me. and call me crazy, but i'd actually like to get up earlier. i'll have to talk to my REM cycle about that so as not to interrupt it.

i want a chicken.

so we planted a garden this year. {photos coming soon}. and our Eden consists of about 6 pots--3 of which have humanly edible materials in them (also known as food). and i kind of love it...a lot. we are anxiously awaiting the day when we get to pop a pepper off the vine & eat it. there is some sort of satisfaction in growing your own food; even though our entire harvest will likely consist of about 6 peppers, 8 tomatoes, & 4 cups of basil leaves.

but that is okay. at least we are growing something, right?

and oddly enough, this shot at growing my own green thumb has made me want just a little bit more...in the form of a chicken.

i went to the grocery store on Sunday and spent almost $10 on 4 dozen eggs. we may be over the top here, but we only buy the "cage free" eggs--guarenteed to have been plopped out by chickens who aren't stuck in cages & who aren't high on hormones. and there certainly is a difference in the consistency of the egg shell...which kind of makes me feel better.

okay i'm rambling.

anyhow, i told jon that since he eats so many eggs, we might as well purchase a chicken. and i was totally excited about it until i remembered that we live on an army post. and being that i haven't seen any farm animals here yet, i'm going to guess they aren't allowed.

we'll get a chicken someday. in the meantime, i'll just keep gazing into the eyes of my peppers.

i just can't seem to....

...spit up my words lately. i'm certainly inspired. i certainly haven't lost the desire to write. but i just can't seem to match up those times of inspiration with the time i happen to be in front of my computer.

so in the meantime, be patient.

good stuff is coming :)

stuff. {1}

I don’t think it is any secret: I LIKE STUFF. I mean, I’m trying my best not to carry on the packrat tradition in my family that was likely started by my great great grandpas uncle, twice-removed (yes, I’m pretty sure it has been in the family that long). But I’ll be honest in admitting that I do like stuff…I like having stuff. And it doesn’t even have to be brand new stuff. I still like stuff from thrift store & yard sales.




But at the same time I keep liking all this stuff, I’ve been growing a disdain for all of it for the last few months. I don’t want to be one of those old people who smell like moth balls and sit in their dining room sipping Foldgers among their newspapers from 1934 and rolled up gum wrappers they saved from their high school graduation ceremony. And I don’t want to be one of those families who has to rent a storage unit or buy a shed to store all my stuff in and ship it to the moon like I hear will happen in the future.

So I’m struggling with a bit of a conundrum. I really do like stuff….but I really do hate stuff. How is that for an oxy-moron??

And I’ve been struggling with it lately. During this week of “freedom” from my textbooks I’ve re-entered the public. (gasp!). and aside from realizing that the reason I was feeling frumpy (which explains why I was asked last week if I was a freaking 15-year-olds MOM!!!!!!!!!!) was because after two years in rural west Virginia I found joy in shopping in the clothing section at WalMart…aside from that little tidbit, I realized that there is just a lot of STUFF out there. And supporting an economy that gives half a million dollar housing loans to families who will obviously never be able to repay them (oh don’t even get me started on this housing “crisis”), supporting a market who tells me that I deserve a new car this weekend even though I already have a perfectly functional one sitting in my driveway…and buying into (literally) a world of retail that constantly tells me I’m just not good enough if I don’t have the newest and the best-est…..I’m just not convinced it is the best for my psyche, my faith, or my pocketbook.

The weirdest thing about my whole “buying” mindset is that I don’t find my motivation from dissatisfaction. I don’t look in my closet in the morning and feel like I need to buy another shirt because I don’t have anything to wear. I don’t walk into my living room and look around with disgust that I need something better or newer. Quite the contrary, actually. I’m totally satisfied with what we have. Completely okay… pleased in fact, with the contents of my closet.

So maybe it’s an underlying temptation…to be a better person all together, instead of just a better-dressed one. to have a more fulfilling life/vocation/marriage by filling it up with more stuff.

And I’m gonna work on it…..or work on resisting it, I guess.

the end.

So. I’m done. And it is a bit of a weird feeling. I’ve wandered around for the last 4 days wondering what to do with myself…learning, all over again, how to spend my time sans studying.
My test was hard. Challenging. Mind-blowingly long. And I’ve come to the conclusion that it will be by God’s grace alone that I pass. I chose to spend my study time memorizing things that didn’t make their way onto my test. And I ended up arbitrarily guessing on more questions than I’d like to remember. Not to mention all those questions out of my 400 I had to answer in the 8 hours I spent on my tooshie in an uncomfortable chair that were completely new to me…I’m pretty sure I learned a few new vocabulary words; who knew that borborygmi was the sound made by moving gas??

I realized something two days before the tests…when I was deep in my trance of studying. I hadn’t slept well, thanks to my bizarre dreams and inability to let myself relax when my head hit the pillow. And aside from the insanity plea that I considered using as an out from this whole crazy test-taking experience, I came to one conclusion:

God doesn’t care about the score of this test. He doesn’t care that I listened to 16+ hours of lecture in one week. He doesn’t care that I got 16 hours of sleep in 7 days. And He doesn’t care that I spent 8 hours being watched with 3 video cameras, surrendering my digitally-monitored finger prints every time I had to pee. He doesn’t care about all that.

What He does care about, however, is how much I TRUST Him. Which, as you very well know has been a challenge for me this year. But as I was sitting there, filling my brain with tidbits about poop & parasites & pathologies that are more rare than hermaphrodites, I was reminded, once again, that God has already accounted for all my mistakes. And I’ve got to trust that He has the best in mind for me. Because although I’d argue that sitting through that 8 hour painstakingly boring test again isn’t the best for my character (or my backside, which as grown larger during my studies), He might disagree with my measley Earthling opinion.

And I’ve got to accept that.

So, for those who don’t really believe that God is all-giving and all-good and all-knowing, the concept that have given up the score of what could be the most important test of my life to something that isn’t visible or touchable or hear-able may seem like I have, in fact, given into that insanity plea that I mentioned earlier (paranoid schizophrenia, perhaps??). But for me, I’ve got to remember that passing this test—or failing it, for that matter—isn’t the end of the world. There is an end to this world, however. And that day when I stand before my maker, I want to be able to proclaim that I TRUSTED HIM ENOUGH to realize that failing the medical board exams wasn’t the end of my Earthly life.

So we’ll see what happens. I’m supposed to get my scores back in mid-August. And being true to my usual perspective, I’m preparing myself for the worst. And anything better than the worst will be a pleasant surprise….