Hand in Hand

15 years ago this week I graduated from high school. It was a day I had dreamed of, hoped for. I was so excited. My grandparents came. My family was all there. They were there to celebrate us. Chara and I.

We entered the world together, we went to school together. In fact, I never went to school alone. From pre-school to my senior year, Chara had been there all along. This wasn’t my graduation, it was ours. Like so much of my life, momentous occasions were shared with her and not by me alone.

I was so proud to have her with me. We marched onto the field and I was content to know that she was right behind me.  

Walking on the field.

I dreamed of the moment that it would be over. I dreamed of us throwing our caps in the air and hugging one another in a joyous embrace; celebrating what we had accomplished, congratulating one another, and simply sharing the moment.

But that’s not what happened. When it was over I turned to her and she wasn’t there. She’d run off to find her stupid boyfriend.

Chara and I went to different colleges. We went to school alone for the first time. I’ll never forget when she called in the fall of 1998. She was crying on the other end, she was saying things to me that she had just realized now that we were apart. I didn’t know what to say. I hadn’t realized she didn’t know.

Later she did come to my college and we did graduate together. I do not remember when it was over. I think she was still there. I think I was afraid to look.

Chara got married that December. It was a bittersweet day for me. She joked she was giving me a brother. I feared he was taking my sister. When the ceremony was over and she walked down the aisle, she stepped out of her shoe. Three people passed it. When I walked down the aisle it was still there, waiting for me. I saw it as a gift from God. She did still need me, even if she was married. I picked it up and took it to her. When I found her, I saw him, her husband. He was crying, deep beautiful tears of joy. He loved her, he was blessed, he was happy, he knew she was a treasure. Okay, I thought, you can have her.  And my heart softened.

In time, Chara became pregnant. She said she wanted me there, needed me there. It made me shy, it made me happy, it made me blessed. I saw Jonah’s little body come. I cut the cord. I suppose her momentous occasion were shared with me too.

And she asked me to be there when Caroline came, too. I cut the cord. She looked like a little red raccoon.

I moved East. I’ll never forget when we talked the fall of 2010. This time I was crying and saying things. She didn’t know what to say. Chara just sat there and loved me.

And then Sadie came. Chara waited for me. I cut the cord.

It was the fall of 2012. She called me. Happy Birthday I said. Chara was confused. I was excited. I had signed us up for the 2013 Memorial Half-Marathon. She thought I was crazy, maybe I was.

We got up early. I picked her up at 5:30 and drove downtown. It was cold. They said there were over 24,000 people. I was there with one. We ran, walked, jogged the whole race side by side. We were out of shape. We were laughing and experiencing and living together. It was a great great day.

This time, I wasn’t afraid to dream. I imagined crossing the finish line with her. Hand in hand. And so, as we got closer, I reached over and took her hand. She was there. She hadn’t run off. She didn’t pull away. We crossed the line together, hand in hand; our time was exactly the same.

 

2013 Memorial Half-Marathon
Oklahoma City, Oklahoma

 

And I know that I am blessed.  

FCCS: Round Two

This past weekend I took FCCS again. I have to retake the class every 4 years to maintain my certification.

There were ACNP students sitting near me talking about classes and clinicals and tests. It was interesting to sit there next to them and hear what they had to say, to hear the exhaustion and stress in their voice.

Funny to be sitting near them at this class. The last time I took this class I was the ACNP student.

Hearing the same information 4 years later with more experience and understanding was good. I learned and appreciated it more. Sometimes I would really like to go back through my MSN program again. Knowing what I know now and hearing it all over again would probably be more beneficial than hearing It the first time I heard it. I would really like that; if I had the time and the money.

I have a phenomenal memory, always have. But you remember things that you know. When you don’t know something, even when you’re told, you don’t always remember or retain it.

In retrospect, I’m not sure that Vanderbilt’s MSN program was in my best interest. It’s a great program for some people. I suppose that school, in some ways, has always been a little hard for me. I’m a ponderer, not a slow thinker, but I need time to understand and retain. I think the speed, intensity and my lack of experience made my time at Vanderbilt even more stressful and I didn’t retain like I would have had the program been different.  I hadn’t understood these things. But hindsight is always 20/20.

FCCS was good. I enjoyed it. I think sometimes I’m too hard on myself.

Hurt from Smiling

I went back to the beginning today. I went to NHC Place. Saw old friends. Walked old halls. Smelled my youth and energy of days long ago. Of days not so long ago.

When I left, my face hurt from smiling. I loved my time there. Loved myself there. Loved who I was. I was dissatisfied with the work I did though, so I went and sought more and different. I loved myself in the different times, too. Loved what I did; what I do.

I miss old people.

I worked 6 night shifts over a 7 day period recently. When it was over, and I woke from my slumber, I realized I really hadn’t spoken with, interacted with, been validated, or connected with another (on a personal level) in those 7 days.

That makes for exhausted, lonely time.

I thought about my life the last few years and thought about patterns and choices and found this to be a common theme. When you spend your energy spinning wheels you find that you don’t go anywhere and in the end you have created a deep hole; even when the spinning wheels serve a deep, noble, good purpose.

I talked with a good friend today and he defined me as being in the “mid-life crisis” phase of my life. This made me laugh.  What he said made sense.

My sister is about to give birth to her fifth child.

My niece is in 2^nd grade. I miss her.
My nephew is planning his birthday party that’s 6 months from now.
My niece likes to babble.
My niece said when the baby comes she’ll potty train, but not until then.
My niece has a tender heart like her mother.
My sister is entering phase 2 of her school program and doing well.
My niece has pretty long hair and the smile of an angel.
My niece is walking and climbing and being ornery.
My niece likes to hold onto the things that she likes.
My niece is sassy.
My sister is getting ready to run a half with me.
My mother is truly a Grand mother.
My father works hard.
My grandmother was in the hospital.

Life goes on whether we work or sleep.

I visited an old friend today. She has dementia. She didn’t know me. I held her hands and we talked. I prayed with her. Hugged her and kissed her bye. She thought she might go see the tulips. I hope she did.

 

I miss Opal.

Life is learning to live in the tension.  And to be at peace in it. And to know your place in it.

Thankful for Ruth.

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.