I'm rude....or so they tell me

Courtesy of my friends at Webster dictionary---

Rude: 1. discourteous or impolite, esp in a deliberate way; 2. without culture, learning, or refinement; 3. rough in manners or behavior

I was told today, by a patient's family member in triage, "you don't have to be rude." Now, while I will admit to being direct and concise in my speakings to many people on the other side of the plexiglass partition, I have never actually been rude. Even as much as I've wanted to, or as many times as I've near bitten my tongue clean off keeping from saying what was REALLY on my mind.

I simply told this woman, the mother of the 20-something grown woman patient, that "I don't need your (transfer) papers right now; keep ahold of them and they'll take it in the back." When she attempted to give the papers to me a second time, I stated again "no, ma'm, I don't need those yet. I can look at them when I call you back if I need to. I know why you're here; the other hospital called and gave me report already."

I fail to see how that was, by definition, rude. I said ma'm, and I was neither without culture or learning, nor was I discourteous or impolite. I didn't tell her to sit down, shut the hell up, and mind her own damn business, like I really wanted to. Or that if I wanted her stupid discharge paperwork from the half-ass hospital she was transferred from, I would have asked for it. Nor did I tell her that if she hadn't taught her grown child how to eat half a cow at once or do nothing besides sit around watching soap operas all day, she probably wouldn't have the giant surgical ass abscess that she has now.

That would have been rude.

Quiet success (and other musings)

Our brunch/Bible study day went off without a hitch, finally, even on 3 hours sleep. I think what kept me up was my thoughts of family and how many new worries I have as our daughter gets older. And I came to the realization, as cliche as it sounds, that I am more like my own mother now than I ever have been. That's a good thing, by the way. But I still have much to learn in her ways, especially grace and patience. Those seem to elude me still....

We have the same worry wrinkle between our eyebrows. Hers has always been deeper than mine, but I have a feeling as our daughter gets closer to her teenage years, I won't have trouble catching up to the canyon I created for Mom. She's been applying anti-wrinkle cream to that spot for going on 10 years. I probably owe her a bottle or two by now.

I understand so many things, when I take the time to quiet my heart and listen to the Lord speak to me. Last night it revolved around my fears for our daughter in a world that seems to distort all that we try to teach her, especially with regard to God and the Bible. I know, talking about such things makes many people uncomfortable. I wonder, who of those same people consider how uncomfortable it makes us to NOT talk about God, or even more to hear other people deny Him and try to keep us from being able to teach our children about Him.

I can't explain how fulfilling it was for me to spend yesterday and today preparing food and putting together this meager gathering for our family and 3 other women. And my gratefulness to my husband is indescribible , for the efforts and enthusiasm he put forth for such a small, yet meaningful, occasion. He consistently pleases and surprises me. But the most rewarding and mysterious part of this was how freeing it felt to openly discuss our own life challenges in the context of God's plan for our lives.

One would think that working in a Catholic hospital would provide some outlet for such conversation, but unfortunately I don't think it's that easy. Without going into a long(er) story, I still feel like I missed the opportunity to save a man (truly save, not in the physical sense) from death the other night. I did all I could do to save his worn and broken body, but when the Lord spoke to me in the quiet of the beeping monitors and rapid breathing, when it was just him and me, I failed to listen. In fact, I ignored God. And I attribute that to an insecurity of how my employer would interpret my witnessing, but more so to a simple and immature fear. One that stems from my own selfishness and wish to not be uncomfortable.

So from now on, when the Spirit moves me, I'm going to do my very best to say what I'm feeling, regardless of who I may offend. Because in the long run, I'm not here to please y'all. I've got my reward waiting, after I take up this cross and follow.

I'm glad I don't understand

Abusive relationships, thankfully, are fairly foreign to me. I do have the suitcases full of baggage from the emotional and mental abuse that I allowed (and occasionally embraced) in my life over the years, mostly from one or two people in particular. And I do understand how one can be so wrapped up in the need to be loved that they will endure just about anything to attain that. However, I have never suffered the kind of physical and emotional abuse that would land me in the ER. Thank God.

Maybe it's because any man I've ever been involved with, or been related to, has understood the rarely spoken rule I have about touching me in any way that I might interpret as hostile or threatening. Generally, I have only had to say it one time for the brevity of my statement to sink in. If you ever lay a hand on me in anger, it will be the last time you ever do. Now, for the sake of not incriminating myself should such a situation ever arise, I will leave it at that.

This ruined, pathetic wisp of a woman came in today. And we had to make her come, put her on a hold and everything. She didn't even have the self-preservation mechanism left to seek medical attention on her own for her severe head injuries, multiple new (and old) bruises, and bite marks. I guess she must have had some fight left in her at some point, because the white, frothy penile discharge of a husband she has had to tie her up at the crack of dawn to be able to beat her throughout the day. With his feet and closed fists and a metal pipe. As gut-wrenching as this was, what was worse is that the PD has been called out for the exact same thing more than once before. And each time, she refuses to go to the court hearings, to follow through with the charges.

After her story and the way she looked drove a number of us nurses to tears, there was one resounding theme that remained: maybe if we pooled our money, we could bail him out of jail....as much as nurses know about saving lives, it sure isn't a far stretch to know how not to. Watch out, all of you who think it's okay to hurt innocent people. Someday you will run into a person with a sense of justice that outweighs their restraint.

Welcome to The Journey

I'll make this short and sweet. I need to lose some weight. For a myriad of reasons, but mostly because I hate being 26 and not able to fit into the jeans I wore when I was 24. So, if you'd like, follow along with my progress at the bottom of the page. I'll update it weekly, and we'll see how this goes. (Hopefully this works out better than my feeble attempt to quit smoking.)