I still remember the songs I heard in the backseat of the car as a kid. Hearing Fleetwood Mack and the Eagles feel like a big serving of mash potatoes for my ears; comfort food that no matter when and where you eat it, it provokes memories of family gatherings and good times.
Music has and always will be my comfort food. Tony Bennet, Kendrick Lamar, Casey Musgraves and Beastie Boys collectively fill airspace on road trips, during my study time, even when I’m cooking. It’s a funny thing; we are exposed early from birth with lullaby’s continuing on to the first dance at a wedding.
We even associate it with death as we exit this word through whatever songs are played at funerals and wakes. Recently a video circulated where a nurse was sitting bedside with her dying patient, singing to her. The patient mustered what little energy she had to lip along to the words to a song she loved as her body was shutting down. How powerful in that moment to be connecting with someone over something we all have in common- music. And how deeply seeded that song must have been for the patient to listen intently and sing along quietly when she barely had enough energy to stay awake.
Numerous articles have been written on music therapy and its effects on healing and reducing stress and anxiety. Some even mention ties to changing pain perception. We celebrate around it, we reminisce about it, and we grieve and memorialize through it. It’s a thread that connects and bonds us as humans. It has the power to move us and unfortunately at times, make us dance like Elaine Benes on Seinfeld.
The truth is, I can’t imagine a world without it. Given the studies being done on the impacts of music on patient outcomes, I hope we see more of it. It’s not a cure-all but if it’s potent enough to affect us mentally, it makes for a fairly compelling argument to integrate it more deeply into patient care.
Monthly Archives: June 2018
Sum Sum Summer Time
Summer term is the red-headed stepchild of school terms. It’s awkward, disliked by many, and a pain in the ass to put up with. School hours are limited at best and course availability even more so. With few exceptions, you’re left with whatever instructors drew the short end of the stick. I have until the end of fall term to complete my pre-requisites to apply into the nursing program which means summer term is a must.
Today was not what I’d call a stellar study day. Everywhere I looked there were shiny objects. I think I’ll make some iced coffee. Oh, look, new music on Spotify! After drafting three short essays for scholarship season later this year, my brain said, “enough”. Maybe a walk along the river would help. It felt great. I even got a pretty funny video capture of a heron cleaning itself and ruffling its feathers, posted to Instagram. What could possibly be funny about that? Put some heavy beats to it and a disco ball above its head. Get the picture? Go take a look. It’s in a “story”. 
Monday brings new challenges; on top of the 8 credits I’m taking online, CNA class begins. The class is Monday through Friday 7 AM – 4 PM for 4 weeks. It’s a condensed course, which I preferred since I have the time. July will be a beast though. At least I have a friend and fabulous study partner to take it with. As much as I’m looking forward to the class, I’m not doing cartwheels and model strutting around the house making duck lips about balancing homework for two fluff classes alongside this 4-week push.
What’s a “fluff class”? So glad you asked. What? What’s so funny? Somewhere, someone out there asked. I have faith! Fluff classes, while important, don’t require endless hours of studying and hundreds of flashcards like A&P did. They don’t’ translate to mid-week study sessions at Starbucks 
or working late into the night for flashcard fest. This is where you force-feed said flashcards into your brain until the no vacancy sign flashes. So, what’s the problem with fluff classes? Shouldn’t I be happy to have the reprieve? Yes and no. A reprieve is nice, but so is being engaged and excited about the topic of study. There’s a 50/50 chance of being inspired and excited about this type of class. I always hold out hope and this instructor is engaging which is welcomed change. I’ll provide an update on that further into the term.
For now, I foresee more study breaks to keep my brain on track and need to put together a good study playlist…
Random Tidbits
Ch-Ch-Changes. So the name change. Documenting my experience, connecting with other like-minded folks, and keeping it fun was more the vibe I was going for. My cup being half full is a good thing but also sounds a lot like a self-help book you’d find at a now-defunct Border’s Books store. The road to nursing will be exciting and challenging but probably involve some ugly crying somewhere along the way too. Ya know what? I’ll write about it.
Travel nursing. Let’s chat about that, shall we? I realize I’m jumping ahead a bit here but I have so many questions about it. It sounds appealing, but aside from the constant movement and living out of a suitcase, what other cons are there? The appeal for me would be the get to see other parts of the country but more importantly, get exposure to other communities. How do you find a good agency? How much control do you have over where you go and for how long?
I said this would be random tidbits and I meant it. So next topic – stethoscopes. I ordered my first one last week and it finally arrived. After reading reviews and other people’s posts about it on social media, I opted to go with the Littmann Classic III. The sound is pretty incredible for the price and since I’ll be getting a lot of use out it, the price was worth it. Plus- a rainbow chest piece, I mean come on! Rainbow!! It’s like having a unicorn around you at all times. How can that be bad?
Lastly, let’s talk scrubs. My CNA class begins in a week so naturally, I went out shopping for scrubs. The school color requirement is hunter green and matching color pants or black if we prefer not to look like the Lucky Charms dude. I suppose it could be worse. We could be wearing chartreuse or goldenrod but let’s be real- we need to be able to tell the sick from the healthy. One thing I noticed pretty quickly is that one size category does not fit all. One top I put on looked like a sausage casing and another like a boyfriend cut housecoat. Same size, different brands, night and day difference. There was one brand that had a red white and blue stars and stripes motif which would be fun if I wanted to be flown proudly outside a building. Then there’s the top with cats plastered all over it that made me feel as though I should have rollers in my hair and a fanny pack on my waist. There are some fun patterns but I draw the line at looking like anything that resembles drapes, upholstery, purse liner, or bathroom tile.
Tomorrow I begin the first of two online classes I’ll be taken simultaneously with the CNA course. It’s what I call a “fluff” class. More on that in the next post. Have a magically delicious night!
Nurse, Nurse, Nurse, Nurse, Nurse
As sung to the song, “Work, work, work, work, work.” Not funny? Oh come on, it’s a LITTLE funny. A smidgen?
CNA classes are an interesting dichotomy between seasoned working adults and new to the workforce students. The deer in the headlights look is unmistakable. I don’t say that as a bad thing. With newbies there are no bad habits to undo, no burned out, knowing glares. I actually like the contrast and have found it to be consistent with my college experience thus far.
My summer CNA I class orientation lasted all of an hour. Since this will be a condensed 4-week course, the pace will be quick. After two weeks of 8-hour days in the classroom, we will begin clinicals. This is the piece I’m excited about. Anyone that knows what CNA work entails, knows what type of work this involves and might think I’m a few marbles short for using the word “excited”, but I am. It means I get direct patient contact and to work around experienced nurses.
It’s brutal work in terms of being physically exhausting and involves bed pans, catheters, dressing and changing their soiled sheets. But you know what it also means? Since nursing homes mostly involve our aging population, I can wish them good morning or good night while brushing their teeth. I can ask them what their favorite song is or listen to their stories while dressing or feeding them. They can tell me all about their 10 grandkids while I bathe them and brush their hair. There’s a not so glamorous side to it; being knee deep in an adult diaper, toileting, hearing and seeing pain, the smells etc. but in the big scheme of things it comes down to basic human need. If you’ve ever been in a situation where you’ve needed help with any of these things for whatever reason- you know how easy it is to feel as though you’ve lost your dignity. It’s certainly humbling.
At 20 years old, I took a CNA class after work. (Life happened, and I ended up in a different field which is why I’m taking the course now.) During clinicals I really enjoyed the stories. It’s hurried and stressful and certainly takes a toll on the body, let alone at the age of 45. This is what I’ve signed up for. As an RN or BSN, I will have seen these situations from a different perspective. Nursing is messy, it’s painful, it’s about milestones and death and birth. There are so many facets to it and that is what is most appealing. I’ll try and be as transparent as possible through this class and convey what it’s like. I have no doubt it will be very different 20 years from the last time. But I am excited about it. You won’t catch me dancing around with a bedpan on my head though. One has to draw the line somewhere, right? 
The Downside of Break
What? Downside? What is this rubbish I speak of? It usually takes me a good week or so to snap out of it after finals. My friends and I just joked the other day about how we still feel like we should be studying something and have class to prep for. I call it PQFO; Post Quarter Freak Out. PQFO can last anywhere from a few days to over a week. Side effects may include rapidheartrateunnecessaryworryinginterupptedsleeppersistentmunchiesglazedoverstaringtheneedtoreadcontinuedcheckinswithstudygroupobsessiveorganizingofschoolsuppliescontinuingtotalkaboutyourtermplannerandshoppingamazonforsupplies.
It’s kind of like a chicken flying around with it’s head cut off. You don’t have any direction or energy left but ya just keep on going, flying around aimlessly hoping not to hit a window. PQFO is treatable but requires letting go of planning, putting your books and supplies away without actually doing anything with them. It means no more dreaming about exam day and going outside without getting blinded or badly sunburned because you’ve been in your study cave for so long.
Late last week, about three days into PQFO I went for a 3-mile walk. You’d think I hadn’t been out in months by how I excited I was to smell fresh cut grass. The sun perked me up like a wilted flower and everyone I passed was wished a “good morning”. Day 6 and the side effects are finally beginning to fade. My desk (aka dining room table) has been cleared of anything resembling a study aid and the sound of lounging around the pool without a plan in sight sounds like a week in Bali.
If PQFO continues for more than six days or side effects last longer than five hours, please consult your study group for a dose of distraction or possible road trip.
The Greatest Gifts
(I’m on break so no chatter of school for a couple days. My brain needs a reprieve.)
When I was 6 years old, my dad built me a tool bench, complete with my own vice, tool box, and various odds and ends. I thought it was the best things since sliced bread. Somewhere I have a picture of me bundled up like the kid in A Christmas Story, hanging out in the garage at the bench. I’d spend endless hours hammering random pieces of wood together, vicing (official garage speak here) things, and painting whatever I could get my hands on. The smell of sawdust, wood stain, and cold concrete permeated the air and I couldn’t get enough of it. As an adult I fully realize this was a brilliant way to keep me occupied and out of his stuff, but it didn’t matter. I could “build” things any time I wanted.
I’d learn to roller skate in that same garage. Dad had rigged up a rope from one end to the other, so I could practice balancing on them. Now I’m sure avoiding emergency room visits might have played a role here, but it afforded me time to get acquainted with my metal shoe skates, which by the way were THE WORST idea. I can still feel my whole body vibrating and teeth chattering uncomfortably anytime metal wheels met asphalt. The wheels ended up so chewed up that a tetanus shot should have been a gift with purchase of them.
We went for random car rides all the time. We’d get in and ask, “Where are we going?” The answer was almost always, “I don’t know, we’ll just drive and see where we end up.” Those trips lead us to seeing sword swallowers and touring a submarine in San Francisco, trying on glasses made of forks on Telegraph Avenue in Berkeley, and watching bongo players on the UC campus there. We camped every summer since we were babies (they’d literally packed a crib early on) at the same grounds with a ginormous fallen tree and would spend hours building dams in the freezing cold creek and skipping rocks. Road trips consisted of playing Garbage Pail Bingo. Yeah- those nasty playing cards we grew up with? Yep, those Garbage Pail kids. We’d get points for seeing someone pick their nose in their car or our name on a sign as we drove by. Anything random but the weirder it was, the better.
I can’t remember a time we didn’t have some kind of fun adventure whether it was constructing something or other or exploring somewhere new. There were a few mishaps. A science project involving Sterno and a dry-cleaning bag to mimic a hot air balloon- caught fire in our kitchen. But these were far and few between. Remembering TP-ing a friend’s house and accidentally leaving one of our covert team operatives behind or going through random restaurant drive- thru’s backwards still make me laugh. We went on reverse scavenger hunts where we made lists of fun things we’d like to have for our slumber parties (think nail polish, microwave popcorn, cards, etc.) and go door to door with these lists. I remember my bestie and I going to the mall shop because she wanted her ears double pierced. (This was the late 80s and piercing body shops weren’t the norm yet.) My dad gave her the OK and she had to sign my last name (my maiden name is German and not the easiest to spell) since she was my sister for the next 20 minutes of that visit. We both busted out laughing. The gig was up. Good thing the young employee was oblivious and didn’t get what was so funny.
There was never a shortage of adventure and curiosity. I still feel that way as an adult – that it’s not about money or things that foster it. It’s about time with friends and family. It’s the exploring, the laughing at missteps, and just thinking outside the lines. In a time when my friends and I are knee deep in studies, it’s these things that make me stop and appreciate just how much these childhood events impacted me as an adult. Say what you mean, if you want something- just go for it. Don’t be afraid to be the odd man out or champion your own ideas. Most importantly, don’t forget the fun. These are truly the greatest gifts my dad has given me.
Finals
Finals week is weird. On Monday the halls were crawling with students. You could practically hear the reverb of caffeine and twang of nerves as soon as you entered the building. The further you went inside, the louder the buzz got to the point of being near deafening.
I heard random pieces of conversation as I passed by small groups; ” I want a cheeseburger, like 5 cheeseburgers”, and “Dude, I’m gonna home and sleep for like a week.” Physically it resembled an ant farm, constant movement and shifting, if a bit haphazard..
Today was a stark contrast. You’d think finalrrhea was some kind of contagious ailment. There was an audible echo and a distant gaze that washed over everyone’s faces. The bounce was gone and it felt more abandoned. I can relate. Yesterday I felt that buzz and was running on adrenaline. Little sleep and intense focus for an extended period of time left me feeling like a flea hopping around from room to room. When I got home, the glazed look warmed over and the haze set in. Jenny has left the building. Fortunately my study partner for math agreed to FaceTime a study session for math to prep. We faded quickly. 
Today was no better. We had our math final to take (the second math class of five that I need) and it took every cell of my being to drag myself through it. I about fell over- seriously, you could have sneezed and I’d have fallen over at that point; when I heard I had A’s in both finals and as overall grades in my classes. I worked for them both with countless hours of studying and pushing through the marathon flash card sessions over endless coffee and banter. No Travolta strut to my car this time though. I’d be lucky if I could muster the Hokey Pokey. I wanted to,- I mean reeeeeeeeaaaally wanted to. But alas, I crawled to my car, started it, allowed the sun to hit my face momentarily.
While I won’t miss math (it’s my nemesis), I will miss A&P and all the clinically relevant things we learned. It made me feel strangely connected to a field I have not yet entered.
Concepts began to string together with real life scenarios and I found my brain looking at things differently. It was a beastly but good term. Bittersweet as it is, I’m going to enjoy these two weeks of nothingness bliss before the roller coaster beings climbing once again.
Finals!
Finals week. I’m in the upside down. It’s not pretty. Knee deep in studying. Better eat an eggo and lay low. See you all on the flip side (tomorrow) ! xoxo
The Inevitable Question
Why nursing? That questions pops up more times than I can count. It’s a fair question. I’ll start by saying this- it’s not about the money. Just so that’s out of the way. The salary is good, don’t get me wrong, but you earn every single dime of that money through literal blood, sweat, and tears. At times it’s grueling and the stress level is unreal. No rose colored glasses here.
Scrubs are cool and all and they come in some pretty stellar colors and patterns, but it will take more than that to lure me to a career where my shoes will end up in the garage and not the house after work.
It’s not the Monday through Friday 8-5 schedule. Yeah- 8-5. That’s funny. I’m fully aware of the reality that I will likely end up working nights, holidays, overtime, and whatever random hours are thrown at me. There is a disbelief that nurses “only” work 2- 3 days a week. That word “only” makes me cringe. I might work 3 at some point but realistically it will be during a variety of shifts and they are long hours, often equating to 10 or 12 at a time. On your feet. Walking, bending, stooping, and lifting. Smelling all the smells and seeing all the things. Did I mention hearing all the things too? Hospitals are funny places for sounds. Whooshing, beeping, retching, vomiting, crying, laughing, overly loud televisions blaring, radome pieces of conversations- all permeate the walls.
Nursing for me combines my loves; advocacy, caregiving, and medicine. Medicine is constantly evolving. Every day you read about a new therapy or surgical procedure. There’s always an opportunity to learn, which is why I think I love school so much. It’s an opportunity to be perpetual student. Taking care of people when they are at their worst, feeling so crappy that they yell and swear at you, cry, mourn loss, or even smell funny, is not for the faint of heart. You have to think on your feet, be direct but in a way that doesn’t alienate patients. It requires showing empathy but not to the extent of coming of disingenuous. There’s a need to be concise. Brevity but not at such a level that you leave key information out.
Some of the best nurses I had used humor to disarm, quiet to allow me to work through pain, and listened even when they probably didn’t want to.
This week marks the week before finals. I work my ass off to keep my grades up but lets be real here; no amount of A’s will give me the skills to help someone deal with pain or grieve over life changing news. It won’t help me laugh with someone who’s dying or help them through the process. It’s certainly not going to help me maintain my composure when I make a mistake and am called out on it. So in a couple of weeks I will begin the process of becoming a CNA II. Being a CNA is not glamorous nor does it pay a high salary. It’s a way to maintain direct contact with patients. It’s a means of learning from seasoned nurses, listening and observing. It’s a way to refine my interaction with both patients and staff as I learn about the clinical side of things. 
At the end of the day when keep having to grab toothpicks to keep my eyes open and my brain going to get through finals, resisting that cold beer in the fridge or my bike that keeps begging me to go for a ride- I keep my goals in my back pocket, always at the ready. A gentle reminder that bigger and better things await- people await. Learning awaits.
Kate Spade and Loss
I’m breaking from blogging about anything nursing or school related. Today I read about something that made me stop in my tracks, sigh really deeply, and think to myself, “no, not another one”.
Nearly a year ago my brother and sister in law gave me my first Kate Spade handbag for my birthday. I was over the moon about it. Her line felt like a beacon of light in a deep sea of accessories and clothing. Her look was timeless, classic, and sometimes quirky, often reminiscent of Jacqueline Kennedy.
But today is not about the loss of a clothing designer who actually stepped away from her original brand in 2007 to start Frances Valentine. It’s not about her colorful handbags or adorable shoes and dresses whose lines know no specific decade.
This is about yet another loss to a seemingly invisible illness, of someone that brought joy and light to others. It’s about asking ourselves what exactly we are missing about those around us and how? What signs were visible in her final weeks and days? Were there subtle changes to her behavior or cancelled commitments or disconnections that went unnoticed?
We will read headlines that read, “Too young”, or “Known for her popular handbags”. My fear in all of this is that the follow-up headlines won’t include what we as a community can do to help or learn to recognize crisis; how we can support one another or help wipe away the stigma that smears the pain of those that suffer, with guilt or shame. If someone has cancer or ALS, we rally around them. We know what to do and how to help so we step into action. We fundraise, we give money to research for cures and treatments. We bring dinners and clean houses or help run errands. What about mental health? Did someone offer this to Kate? Did she feel safe enough to talk about it or was she afraid of how it would impact her professionally?
Physical illness doesn’t come with the same judgements that mental one’s do. There’s a certain “comfort” level we have with dealing with physical issues and it takes being unafraid to ask the tough questions or to ask someone how they are doing and actually mean it. It takes time to sit and listen to someone.It takes compassion to empathize with what we can’t see or maybe even understand.
So while we mourn the loss of a presence that appealed to our eyes and senses, my hope is that we will also mourn what could have been done to keep this light shining.