Nurse, Wife and Mother

The subtitle of this blog use to be "Nurse, Wife and Mother". :)

My job requires a strong stomach. My stock and trade is mental health. Which is ironic given that the only time people see me, is when THEY DON'T HAVE mental health. I am a psychiatric nurse practitioner. Nurse for short.

For the most part, none of it phases me. People pour out their misery and I kind of get excited. Between their snot bubble cries and spasms of untold pain, I know it's only the beginning. There, in my office, is where the healing can start.

Unless it doesn't.

Like my patient Jim. Dude is super homeless. We can help with homeless. We have an entire program to help him get un homeless. Only it's not working for him. He's a hard core alcoholic. Which is nothing new in my business. And it's not stopping him from getting help from the program. He's stopping him. He's shown up at the shelters drunk and pissing on himself. Which is fine, shelters will let you sleep it off once or twice. Except he starts to threaten staff.

AND THAT'S WHEN THEY KICK HIM OUT. Not out of the program, but out of the homeless shelters. Both of them.

We can still help him. We have residential rehab for alcoholics. Seems perfect, solves both the alcohol and homeless problem. He won't go though.

Then, and only then, he becomes a BIG PROBLEM for me. He keeps coming to my clinic. Especially in winter. We have a warm building you see. Except I won't prescribe medication for him because he's drunk all the time. Then, after we leave, we find him passed out drunk in the snow banks. We call the police. Then he shows up the next day, still drunk. We escort him out of the clinic and the cycle starts over.

So you see, this is a problem for me. I am hard wired for mercy. I am hard wired to work my ass off to help him. But I can't. So it weighs on me. He keeps showing up and it triggers my mercy and my giving. Only it ends with me getting really pissed off. Because I can't help him.

And all of this is swirling through my brain as I come home. I lay on the couch with Mr. Hall. He's had a long day with the kids and he needs me. But my head is swirling. My body is stiff, unyielding to the spoon. Mr. Hall opens his eyes and stares at me angrily. "The kids are watching Harry Potter and being quiet right now. Whatever you're thinking about, knock it off and kiss me."

And with a deep breath I let it go, I stop. I become pliable and smoochy. And in the end, the part the really matters is the wife and mother.

Bloggers blog about food and booze in awesome new blog

Earl, the brother I never had, has invited a bunch of us to participate in a food blog called Simmer, Sip and Share. So far, it's pretty awesome.

Go there, learn tips about Jim Beam Rye.

Put us in your reader. You'll thank me in the morning. :)

Weirdest game of Euchre ever

So. had the brother and his wife over for a swim and some cards. Turns out, he lives like 10 minutes from my house. Who knew? Now, we moved to this house about 3 years ago. But, he never comes over or visits.

Yeah, he's kind of a douche.

Then my Mom gets all up in my grill. She's determined for us to be more of a family. I tell her, I invite him over but he never seems to show. Then, out of nowhere they did last night.

I can say I HAVE ABSOLUTELY NOTHING IN COMMON WITH MY BROTHER. Even normal stuff you have in common with complete strangers. Like an affection for angry birds or Harry Potter or hiking at local nature center. We just have nothing in common. We did like the X-Files once. So there was that.

He's a big sports nut. Like HYPER OBSESSED WITH STATS AND CAN NAME OFF STARTING LINE UPS type sports nut. I am aware of sports. I can try to be part of the game. He's also hyper competitive. Gets all into go-fish with my daughter Pancake. Enough so that they're playing for hours until he wins. Seriously. She's eight.

Yeah, he's kind of a douche.

SO. Playing Euchre. He gets all mouthy and starts trash talking. His wife perks up and swears a little. Meanwhile, Mr. Hall and I are all leisure like. Taking our time. Enjoying the quiet. Sipping booze. This annoys both brother and sister in law. I saw them exchange looks to this effect. This made me slow down even further.

NENER NENER NEEENER

I don't care.

So. Guess we'll give it a few weeks and then invite them over again. Make weird small talk, have a swim. No cards though.

sore for a reason

not much to report these days. it's odd. i'm a person who talks a lot. yet here i am, not talking much at all.

i believe it's a matter of 'a little less talk, a lot more action.' working out more i mean.

since i've started working out more, taking care more, i can't move as much. i'm sore all over. i'm limping and having a hard time raising my arms. so sore. my sleep has launched into this super, deep sleep. which makes sense. my sleep has been crap since the miscarriage and now that I'm healing, my body is double deep sleeping to catch up.

i'm working with a trainer. well, he's free now, but soon i'll have to start paying him. which is weird. dude is six foot five and muscles all bulgy. i don't wine when he helps me work out. i just do the things he asks. i don't really say anything to him. he says muscles are important because they support your bones and joints.

i say sure. but i know things are changing inside. the tearing down and building up of muscles heals my hurt.

so. very sore. still soo sleepy. but all for a reason. all for the greater good.

yawn.

:)

I will laugh and drink, then, I will laugh and drink some more

another wedding this weekend. there will be booze and laughing. and busting the chicken dance groove on yon dance floor. with family that i love ooooo i love.

and there will be more long island ice teas for mr. hall so he can grove along with me.

yep. gonna be an awesome weekend.

see ya later ya'll!!

Sweet Cherry Bottoms

This is a photo of normal bone marrow.

A few days ago I got a call. It was about 2.30 in the afternoon. It was my high powered OB-GYN. She drew about 20 different tests to investigate reasons for my 3rd miscarriage. These tests were largely of the hormonal, cardiac and coagulation kind. Nothing genetic, but exterior. Stuff that can be fixed or worked around if found abnormal. Expect it wasn't. It all came back well within the normal limits.

Which caused a series of irrational and rational thoughts. But, first, I had to get back to work and see three more patients.

Then, on the drive home, my head exploded.

1. Irrational thoughts

What the HELL???
WHAT THE FUCK???
What do you mean nothing is wrong? My baby died for nothing? There must be something there, something we can point to. I mean, I had prepared for something being amiss. I mean, not totally wrong, but just enough wrong to cause problems with carrying a child to term. I DID NOT PREPARE FOR NORMAL. And I'm mad. REALLY REALLY MAD ABOUT IT. I realize we may never find out why we lost this baby but really, NORMAL???

(the thoughts spiraled like this for a while)

Then, things got weirder in my head.

Since I had prepared from something, perhaps just something small being wrong, I had prepared to turn down any intervention she would suggest to fix this something. To help us conceive and carry again I mean. Not that we are going to try again. I just thought we could take a looksie inside. Yah know, to poke around.

Then, I started thinking about the other layer of testing. Genetic testing. What if I have something inside that I've passed to my kids? She, the ob-gyn, doubts this. I have two healthy kids. I am currently still mulling over this layer of testing. It's expensive and most likely, will come up normal too. If so, what then?

2. Rational thinking

Then I remembered what my OB-GYN said about what we need to do 'if we want to try again'. Which made my head explode again.

I thought, NO. WE HAD DECIDED TO NOT TRY AGAIN. WE DECIDED WE CAN'T GO THROUGH THIS AGAIN. But right after I scream this in my head-the whispers start. Unstoppable whispers of 'what if.' We if we did? Then I remembered I've given away all my maternity clothes and baby clothes and baby swings and . . .

Then I remember. I didn't give away all of it. I kept my favorite baby clothes and put them in my dresser. The crib and the baby swing were given to my brother. I can replace baby clothes in a snap. Which means when I gave away all that stuff, I didn't really give away anything.

And at this point I'm breathless, standing in front of my husband, exploding all over him. I'm huffing and puffing. My voice is loud and shaky, arms all akimbo. And he's smiling. SMILING!!! He's telling me he's already thought about this. Weeks ago. He was able to logically think this through while I was swimming in raw emotion. Then he said we never decided 'not to try again.'

We had merely decided to wait six months before we decide anything. And I search my mind. I find this to be true.

I was shocked at this. I am shocked that this entire time my husband has been keeping track of me and logically thinking through things. I am shocked because he knew what I was saying before I said it. Just gobsmacked.

Then I stopped exploding. We stood there, holding each other. Gently rocking back and forth. He's soothing me and I him. I'm so amazed by him, so blessed this is my husband.

And it's true. We need to wait to let all the crazy chaos inside settle. To let our hearts and spirits heal. We are in no shape to do any sort of anything right now, let alone make decisions.

So for now, I'll focus on my health. Go to yoga, continue on weight watchers. Maybe look into a personal trainer. I'll focus on the kids, loving my husband, going to church and feeling God's hands continue to heal me.

And it's good. :)

And that's when I snapped

I am enjoying the hot yoga.

Last night it was a class of two. Me and a guy in his fifties. He was chattery. Made small AND long talk with the teacher. He had a running commentary on his performance. Dude wouldn't shut up. Then, when the teacher had us repeat a pose three times and said, "Third times a charm." He replied, "Expect in marriage, my third wife was a bitch!"

AND THAT'S WHEN I SNAPPED.

Well, not at that exact moment. But it was coming.

To talk during yoga is to short change the poses. The poses are the key. You physically move yourself into different positions, moving unspoken things inside you. It requires deep, deep breathing. Inhaling through the nose, exhaling like you are fogging up a mirror. The breathing is like the engine pushing the train.

These poses, these are when the hands of God reach out and heal me. He cups my sad, sad energies in his hands. Lifting them from me and taking them away.

But.

None of that can happen if I have to block out Dude's yammering.

So.

When he turned to me and started chatting, I made pleasant small talk. Again, it was a small class and the teacher was new. They had both made attempts to get to know me. I can also do some poses very easily. Like this one called "supta vajrasana or fixed firm" . They were intrigued.


I told them I've been practicing yoga for nine years. Then I told them I've been on a five month break. They asked why. And I told them. I was pregnant but I lost the baby. So now I am back at yoga. They were sad about it.

On a side note, that was completely weird for me, telling them this. But I'm no good at lying or making up stories. So out the truth came.

Then.

Dude kept talking to me. I turned my head towards him. As I tried to shoot lasers out of my eyes, I said, "I like to focus on my breathing during yoga." And made a thumbs up sign.

He then backed off. And for the rest of the class I breathed, sweated, posed and healed some more.