A bronco who just ate his oats. A bronco who just got slapped on the butt in tandem with a loud, cowboy, "YAW!"
Mostly, this bronco called My Life sprints blindly towards a hazy horizon that seems to lie in the next universe. For long stretches, I just bury my head against the wind and brace myself for sudden impact into whatever it is we're racing towards.
Other times, I see our end goal- it's definite and clear and perfect- but it's perched at the top of a cliff, with 37 different ways to get to it. And all of the paths are risky to some degree and some may turn out shorter than others while some are filled with mines and Tracker Jackers and poison berries and I'm left poised, my arrow drawn back, frantically needing to make a decision, but paralyzed with fear about what new danger lurks around the bend.
Anyway, the reason that I haven't updated my blog, cooked anything, begun a running program, lost 15 pounds, sent Kevin cookies or done anything productive is because my life has been really darn stressful. Still is actually, increasingly so because I may have...a new career plan!
(DON'T you roll your eyes, this is the last time!)
Other times, I see our end goal- it's definite and clear and perfect- but it's perched at the top of a cliff, with 37 different ways to get to it. And all of the paths are risky to some degree and some may turn out shorter than others while some are filled with mines and Tracker Jackers and poison berries and I'm left poised, my arrow drawn back, frantically needing to make a decision, but paralyzed with fear about what new danger lurks around the bend.
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| Nerdy Hunger Games reference, anyone? |
Anyway, the reason that I haven't updated my blog, cooked anything, begun a running program, lost 15 pounds, sent Kevin cookies or done anything productive is because my life has been really darn stressful. Still is actually, increasingly so because I may have...a new career plan!
(DON'T you roll your eyes, this is the last time!)
But before I get into that I'd like to create a sort of saga of my surgical tech life where I left off. We will relive every moment in excruciating detail, filled with stories of other people's organs and me crying a lot...
You won't want to miss it.
...............
Still reading? No? It's just my mom out there?
Well then, I'll keep it short to just the highlights. Hmph.
You won't want to miss it.
...............
Still reading? No? It's just my mom out there?
Well then, I'll keep it short to just the highlights. Hmph.
And before I begin, I do realize that there are people in the world who have it way worse than me. Whose lives are way more stressful and tiring than mine. I don't have a job, I don't have kids, I don't have a house or bills or health issues or really any other type of stress. But, it's my blog and I'll be dramatic if I want to!
With that disclaimer, I will tell you that being a low-ranking student on the OR floor between the hours of 6:15 and 3 is pretty darn stressful. Especially when you still can't remember how to find the bathroom or what a Harrington retractor is or how to tell your involuntary hiccups to cease and desist. *Quick story
With that disclaimer, I will tell you that being a low-ranking student on the OR floor between the hours of 6:15 and 3 is pretty darn stressful. Especially when you still can't remember how to find the bathroom or what a Harrington retractor is or how to tell your involuntary hiccups to cease and desist. *Quick story
*I was in surgery, gowned, gloved, the whole shebang, scrubbing one of my first cases solo with a crusty-ol' vascular surgeon when I got...The Hiccups. Not loud, open-mouth hiccups like some obnoxious people do- just regular hiccups. I was so nervous and so excited and so focused on the task at hand that I had probably not taken a breath in 45 minutes. So, naturally, my diaphragm began to spasm. However, after about six quiet hiccups while hovered over a pulsing endarterectomy,
I was quietly bellowed at by the surgeon (the patient's awake with a drape over their head) to, and I politely quote, "Get the F**K out of my OR and take your hiccups with you." In front of about nine other OR people. I backed away from my little instrument stand of which I had proudly stood next to and shriveled towards the door. Wahhhh.
So, ya. It's not all fun and games when you're poking people's carotid. It's still pretty fun though...
Up next: My experience on the pre-op nursing floor.
I was quietly bellowed at by the surgeon (the patient's awake with a drape over their head) to, and I politely quote, "Get the F**K out of my OR and take your hiccups with you." In front of about nine other OR people. I backed away from my little instrument stand of which I had proudly stood next to and shriveled towards the door. Wahhhh.
So, ya. It's not all fun and games when you're poking people's carotid. It's still pretty fun though...
Up next: My experience on the pre-op nursing floor.
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