Beds That Have No Answers

It’s curious where you find people sometimes: their perspective on things and their attitude towards life and their individual circumstance.

I met an individual who received a life altering opportunity, a priceless gift. All they could do was complain and complain and complain. They did not seem to exhibit thankfulness or gratitude. It was quite disappointing.

I met another individual who had fallen on extreme circumstances and was beginning the next stage of a horrific journey. They were in pain, but they smiled. They acknowledged their blessings. They flirted with truths. It was quite humbling.

What makes people who they are?

What makes people respond to life in the way that they do?

Is it culture?
Is it nature?
Is it nurture?

I do not know.  

I remember a time when 2 individuals laid in ICU beds after both experiencing horrific crashes. One, a drunk driver, was left with a broken bone; it was fixed and healing. The other, hit by a drunk driver, was left paralyzed, on a respirator; broken and decompensating. Their crashes were not the same, yet, maybe they were.  
 

How and why are questions we never find finite answers to. Life does not afford us that gift. We are left with unknown reasons and ponder ideas in search of a truth that we usually never find. I think sometimes we find more truths in our questions than in our answers.

It’s phenomenal the impact observation can have on us, if we allow it. Watching and observing human conduct, human nature, human attitude, human response. There is much to be learned in those around us.

I was recently listening to one of my favorite artists, Dar Williams, and her song, “The Mercy of the Fallen”. There is a line that reads:

There’s the wind and the rain, and the mercy of the fallen,

Who say they have no claim to know what’s right.

There’s the weak and the strong and the beds that have no answer,

And that’s where I may rest my head tonight.

 

 

Sometimes the weak are the strong. And sometimes the strong are the weak. But all lay in beds that have no answers. I suppose that is the truth that plagues me.

Sometimes we have to turn off our minds, yield to the lack of answers and rest our heads. There will always be disappointing and humbling experiences. I will continue to encounter them as long as I do the work that I do. But there is a lesson to be found in each of them.  A lesson to grow from.

I suppose finding the lesson for the purpose of growth is the answer.

Sitting

Ruthie’s gotten lazy. But then whose fault is that?

My Dad recently sent me an e-mail with the heading being “I’m guilty”. This peaked my interest and when I opened the e-mail it was an article titled “Sitting is the Smoking of Our Generation”.  I read the article and it gave me lots to ponder.  

On my most athletic day, I ran 10 miles, swam for 3 hours, and quarterbacked an intramural flag football game. I was fit. My body was fit. I was 22.  

Now I’m 33. I’m not fit. Working crazy hours had resulted in weight gain at times and at others weight loss. I frequently eat unhealthy meals on the run or grab quick foods from the café. I’m chronically exhausted and spend a significant amount of my “off” time sleeping, napping, or watching TV in a zombie like state.  

I would never smoke, truthfully I abhor it. But, to my horror, I sit. I’m a sitter.  

In less than 5 weeks I’m running in a half marathon. Chara and I are running the Oklahoma City Memorial-half marathon on April 28th. When I signed up, I thought about my 22 yo days and was hopeful that I’d jump on a fitness bandwagon and reacquaint myself with my old athleticism. But I needed to get moved, then I needed to get adjusted to my new job, then I needed to get adjusted to working nights. Now I just need to get motivated.  

I can blame my schedule in part. It’s crazy and chaotic and prevents routine. But, in truth, you don’t have time until you make time. I need to make time.  

I’ve thought about canceling my cable (I watch entirely way too much TV), but there are days when I truly must recover and I use TV to aid that. I thought about getting off of FaceBook (I spend way too much time on FB), but I stay connected to way too many people from way too many places I have lived.  

Plain and simple, I just need to move.  

Motivation is usually ignited by passion. I need to find ways to get passionate about moving.

 

Ideas?

Foggy Memories: My Journey Back to Senatobia, MS

I claim Tennessee as my home. I claim to be a Tennessean. I was born in Memphis, in Shelby County.

 But the truth is, I didn’t actually live in Tennessee until I was 15 years old.

The truth is, we lived in Mississippi when I was born. I was born in Memphis because that was the closest hospital. So, I can say I’m a Tennessean, but the reality is, I got my start in Mississippi.

 

We lived in Senatobia, Mississippi from 1978 to 1985. I was born in 1979. Those years were exciting, unpredictable, extremely stressful, foundational, and beautiful. I have foggy memories of these times. They’re more known’s than memories: faces, smells, feelings, senses, comfort, love.  Known truths, known peace, known comfort, known community, known trust, known expectations.

The ages of 0 to 5 are times we don’t always remember, but we learn so very very much.

This weekend, after 20 years, I journeyed back to that place. I went to Senatobia. I saw those faces, smelled those smells, knew those feelings and senses, felt that comfort, and embraced that love.

It was odd to be in that place as an adult, to meet those people again for the first time. Some memories came to me, distant foggy memories, but mostly the known’s flooded my senses.

So many people said to me, “you probably don’t remember me…”, but the truth is, more often than not, I did. I knew their faces. I knew them.

So many people said, “You will never know what your family meant to us”. And the truth is, I don’t. I wasn’t on their end and was too young to appreciate that.

But, what they will never know is what they meant to my family. They will never know the reverence their names have had the past 28 years in the Sanders home. They will never know the infinite impact their example's have had on our lives. They will never know the sincere and deep appreciation I have for their kindness to my parents and my sisters and me. They will never know the place they hold in my heart despite the passing of time, despite my significant youth.

I drove past our old house yesterday. I saw 4 little girls. I saw old pictures come to life. I embraced the known’s of my life.

Thank you Senatobia, Mississippi, for giving such a beautiful foundation to the foundational years of my life.

And may it not be another 20 years.

Being Where You Are

You can’t be in two places at the same time. You can’t achieve one thing by doing another. You can’t have your cake and eat it too.

I think this is where I’ve been.

The problem with that is that you become paralyzed. You sit on the fence and therefore never declare yourself, your stance, or your goals. You can’t more forward for looking backward.

New beginnings frequently result in self-reflection, which often results in self-evaluation, which, hopefully, results in self-growth.

I always want to be better, stronger, but especially smarter.

I can’t move forward by looking back.

You take what you’ve left behind, the positive and the negative, and you build on it. You use experiences and gained wisdom to build a better, stronger, smarter future. You don’t forget where you’ve been, what you’ve learned, or how you previously functioned; but, you don’t let the past dictate your future.

There is positive and negative to everything. It would be great if we could take all the positives and build something and forget all the negatives, but life doesn’t work that way. Positive and negative rest within things; having non-compatible means allows for the opposition to be seen, allows for truths to be gained.

Working at Vanderbilt is nothing like working in Dallas. Working at Vanderbilt is a lot like working in North Carolina. Working at Vanderbilt is nothing like working in North Carolina. But I’m not in Dallas or North Carolina. I’m in Nashville at a different hospital doing a different job at a different time.

Some shifts you are amazing and rude all in the same night. Some situations lend for peaceful confrontation and mending, some situations do not. Thankful for those times when two professionals can talk respectfully to one another; take time to hear both sides of the story; each acknowledge the right and the wrong committed by both parts, and still walk away colleagues.

Our perspectives dictate our attitudes and actions. Perspectives aren't always reality. Sometimes, as easy as it sounds, it’s hard to be where you are. But sometimes the most important thing you can do, is to simply be where you are.

"Be still, and know that I am God”

Psalm 46:10

Getting Settled

I said that it wouldn’t be until March that I was settled; and I am finding this to be a truth.  

It’s been good to be back in Nashville, to be home. I have found that it is exactly the same and I have found that everything has changed. It is true that the more things change, the less things change.  

I’m working nights. I’m sleeping days. It had been 14 months from my last night shift in North Carolina to my first one here; there is a readjusting, a relearning to that life. So far it has been alright. I have discovered that melatonin is wonderful and I have greatly benefited from it.

I have found this critical care job to be less stressful than my last critical care job as I am not solely responsible for the care of critically ill patients. There are positives and negatives to that. I miss being completely in control, of doing all the procedures. I’m so glad to not be completely responsible. Life is such a give and take.

I’m away from Ruthie more and her boarding/daycare bill has gone up. I hate that. I love her. She’s a dog.

It’s funny though; weather I live in Oklahoma, North Carolina, Texas, or here in Tennessee, day to day life is mostly the same. I still live with me, with Ruthie, with our stuff. I go about my business the same way and act my habits out as usual. The geography is different.

There are goals I have for this place, though.  I have been somewhat of a life-long nomad, but, for whatever reason, time allowed me to finally plant roots. They were planted here in Tennessee. So, when I left here I felt incredibly unsettled. That sense of unsettlement has followed me wherever I have gone. I didn’t leave on my terms; it just kind of happened. So, I want to go to a lot of places, eat in some of my favorite restaurants, walk around in old haunts, and drive down old roads with the windows down in the summer time and breathe in the Tennessee air.

But my main source of unsettlement rests in the people. I felt a great emptiness and a significant need to tell certain people thank you. Thank you for loving me, for encouraging me, for guiding me as I grew. Thank you for supporting me publicly and privately; thank you for kind words, sweet hugs, and for being my community.  So I aim to take time and tell these people, to finally let that unsettled feeling within me fall in to a cathartic peace. How can I not tell people who live within my heart thank you? How can I not tell them I love them? I have tried to pen the paper, but there are some words that are meant to be spoken, acts that are meant to be lived.

Time has been an interesting friend. The last 7 years have been a whirlwind of highs and lows, of awakenings, of healing, of sweet peace, of learning and growing, of understanding, of truly growing up and coming into my own.

Life is a journey and I want to make the most of everyday. I don’t want to feel unsettled when I leave here again.

Around the world and back again

Wednesday was my last day at UT Southwestern.

I’m moving on Monday. Starting a new job the following Monday.

It has been an interesting year. I learned a lot. I saw a lot. I’m grateful for the opportunities I was afforded, the people I worked with.

Cardiothoracic Surgery was interesting. Being on a surgery service was interesting. On day 3 of employment I realized how extremely different it was from critical care. People have a problem, we meet with them, make a plan to fix their problem, they come to the hospital, we fix their problem, they go home. Most of the time it was very cut and dry; in and out.  Challenges are found in schedules, insurance, and discharge plans.

I feel in the last few years that I have been around the world and back again. I have had some of the highest highs and some of the lowest lows. I have been filled with community and lonelier than I could imagine. I’ve learned about days and nights. I’ve been well rested and beyond exhausted.  I’ve lived on the prairie, in the mountains, in the big city. I’ve been to small churches and large churches, conservative churches and liberal churches. I’ve come to understand the value of organized religion but to deeply appreciate my own spirituality.

I’ve come to know who I am in a way that I never had before and to appreciate and love that more than I ever could have before.

I’ve come to value my family and true friends so very very much.

I’m going to work at Vanderbilt. I’ll be working nights in the Surgical Intensive Care Unit as an Acute Care Nurse Practitioner. It’s a faculty appointment for the school of Medicine.

I’m moving to Nashville. I’m starting over; I’m going home.

Every new beginning starts from some other beginning’s end.

All the Difference

Two roads diverged in a yellow wood,
And sorry I could not travel both
And be one traveler, long I stood
And looked down one as far as I could
To where it bent in the undergrowth;

Then took the other, as just as fair,
And having perhaps the better claim
Because it was grassy and wanted wear,
Though as for that the passing there
Had worn them really about the same,

And both that morning equally lay
In leaves no step had trodden black.
Oh, I marked the first for another day!
Yet knowing how way leads on to way
I doubted if I should ever come back.

I shall be telling this with a sigh
Somewhere ages and ages hence:
Two roads diverged in a wood, and I,
I took the one less traveled by,
And that has made all the difference. 

............................

So much to say in the coming days.

8 times in 4 years.

My Brother Mike

I recently lost a friend. Truth be known I hadn’t really known him long. But he was a true friend, a brother.

He was a sweet, gentle man. An old soul. A little boy. Without knowing him it is really hard to understand that, knowing him it’s hard not to.  

He was from a small town in Arkansas, yet he had traveled the world. He was planning to lead a group to the summit of Mt. Kilimanjaro next summer. He invited me to go and I was so excited.

He raised hundreds of thousands of dollars for non-profit religious organizations, but had trouble keeping his electricity on.

He needed family, so he created it. He called and invested and loved, so deeply loved. Everyone became his family and he was a true brother.

He was a true servant of God and had the most redemptive of stories. He desired to live life to the fullest, but to live it in the way that God called him to. And so he did.

We spent some time together this past spring and talked and laughed and dreamed. We stayed up late into the night; it was sweet time. We tentatively began a conversation of future dreams and I think we both fearfully and secretly hoped they would come to pass. I’m deeply grieved they didn’t. I’m not sure they would have.

We had some hard good talks about things in our lives that we shared: our faith, our paths, our struggles. Talking with him and discussing some truths with him gave me some of the greatest peace. Peace I had so desperately needed. Peace that only someone like him could give to someone like me. His words filled me and eased fears that I didn’t realize I was holding on to so tightly.

He knew God. He lived his life with God. And now he’s with God.

There will be many people to meet me the day I go home to be with our Father. I will be excited to see so many. But I’ll especially be excited to see my brother Mike Woodall.

I’m so thankful for my time with you, thankful for the memory of you. When I miss you I find myself reaching for the book and turning to Isaiah the 53^rd chapter and I hear you. I hear your voice and it is there that I find you reading to me about our Lord, about our Father.
 

Every blessing You pour out
I'll turn back to praise
When the darkness closes in, Lord
Still I will say

Blessed be the name of the Lord
Blessed be Your name
Blessed be the name of the Lord
Blessed be Your glorious name

You give and take away
You give and take away
My heart will choose to say
Lord, blessed be Your name

Hearts, Lungs, and LVADs

When I think back on the past few years I know that I am beyond blessed.

I have had experiences and opportunities that are outstandingly phenomenal. I've done and seen things that most people never get the opportunity to do or see.

A few months ago I got a phone call and was invited to go on a procurement. We frequently use the term "harvest" but it's really not politically correct and is thought to be disrespectful. I think the term harvest is much more encouraging and sincere than procurement, but nobody asked me, and I don't work for UNOS.

A person had died. We were going to procure the heart and the lungs. We went to the local airport, got on a jet, and flew out to get the organs. When I got there I had to change scrubs and met the Liver team and the Pancreas team in the locker room. We chatted. We changed. We procured.

I minimally assisted in opening the chest and assisting with the removal of the heart and lungs. The heart comes out first, then the lungs, then the other organs. I was very proud that our organs were first, as though we were the most important team. Truthfully, though, it was amazing to observe the whole process. There were so many people in that OR. We were stepping on each other. I never looked at the donor. I did not need to see, to know.

We quickly left with our organs in coolers, boarded an ambulance that was waiting for us. They turned the sirens on and we swiftly went back to the airport. We boarded our jet and had a fantastic meal waiting for us. We landed just as we finished eating. The coolers were grabbed. Placed in the surgeons cars and they were off to graft them into the recipients. I was invited to go, but I declined. I'd seen the surgeries before.

Boarding the jet with the organs.

I never saw the donor, I never saw the recipients. I saw the process. I saw the heart. I saw the lungs. It was amazing.

The day after that, I went in on my day off and observed the placement of an LVAD. A Left Ventricular Assistive Device is a battery operated pump that is implanted into the apex of the patients heart and the out flow cannula is sutured to the aorta. This device helps the heart with contractility and helps perfuse the body in a efficient manner. (Essentially, it's a mechanical heart.)  It is frequently used as a destination therapy device or bridge to transplant. So, most of the patients who get an LVAD are waiting for heart transplants.

LVAD

We frequently have LVAD patients and since it wasn't a surgery that I was completely familiar with, I felt like it would be beneficial to observe it. The resident who was assisting got called away. There I was with the Attending Surgeon. "Hold this", he said. "Pull that", he said. "Cut here", he said. And the next thing I knew I was assisting with surgery. I was doing heart surgery. The resident eventually came back and I stepped back and regained my position watching.

I read over the Operative Report the next day and the Attending of record placed me as the assistant. I assisted with surgery. I assisted with open heart surgery. I did that.

For the most part I have found that the surgical arena doesn't quite compliment me. We know what's wrong with the patient. They come to the hospital. We fix them. We get them ready for discharge. They go home. It's pretty cut and dry (no pun intended). But even in the midst of the most mundane of experiences, there are some pretty exciting and phenomenal experiences too.

Living a blessed life.

Here and There

I went to a conference last week. It was a boot camp for Acute Care Nurse Practitioner’s.  The focus was on critical care, on really sick patients, on working in the ICU.  It was at Vanderbilt.

It was good to be there: to hear those lectures, sit in those chairs, walk those grounds, be among those people. I felt professionally revived in so many ways. I felt the passion for my work returning to me. I felt excited again to be who I am and do what I do.  It definitely started some wheels turning.

I was able to attend church while I was there, able to see so many people who are so very dear to me, to receive hugs and kisses and blessings. It was so very good to be there: to sit in those pews, sing those songs, walk those halls, be among those people. I felt spiritually revived in so many ways.

I talked with so many dear friends. I talked with so many sweet people that I love so dearly; countless people who have so deeply enriched my life. I talked with my dear friend Harold, it took me some time to get to him, but when I did, oh how he filled my heart. He said the sweetest words to me: “you know you just belong here”. His words struck me, moved me. I smiled, squeezed his shoulder, walked away.

Belong here.

You know you just belong here.

Belong.

Here.

Isn’t that what we all desperately long for? A place to belong, to fit, to feel at peace. Having moved 7 times in the last few years I know the power of that in a way that I didn’t understand before. Belonging has the ability to give one value, to validate their life.

I have changed in exponential ways the past few years. The person I was in the fall of 2007 is not the person that I am today. I am better for the changes, I am a differnt person. There was a time when I wasn’t sure who I was, what I was, what I wanted, where I wanted to go. I have a resolute understanding of those things now. Life at times gives you difficult challenges, tasks, and bends in the road for the purpose of molding you. I once said that I felt like life was just happening to me and I was just a participant, but I realize it was during those times that I was allowing God to work in my life to mold me. Those were times when I didn’t have the energy to participate and so I yielded and was molded by Him for Him.

The room that I sat in at the conference had a big mirror in the back. A Vanderbilt logo was on it and it had a slogan. I read it multiple times every day. “It’s who we are.” Funny how marketing propaganda can work to encourage and excite you.