Snapshots

I got a new job, and as with most new things, I've been more tired than usual. But I'm starting to regain my normally high level of energy, so I'm trying to get back into making activity (running, biking, etc) my default, as opposed to inactivity (sitting in the bath and reading- which I still do, just not til I've done something active).

 I biked to work yesterday. I left at 6:20am, when it was pitch black outside. I'd forgotten how much more I feel a part of my surroundings when I'm biking or running, and how much more I notice of my environment, when I'm not tuning in to a phone call or the radio. I noticed the coldness in the air, and how the lights on other biker's bikes and helmets, passing me in the blackout, looked kind of like alien landing ships from ET. I noticed the jingle of a dog's collar (replete with flashing light) as it passed with it's owner.

 On the way home as night fell, I road more slowly. I was tired from a long day at work, and it was pleasant to zone out and look at the leaves, trees and darkening skies. Normally I despise being passed by other cyclists, but this time, it was pleasant for me to meander my 8 miles home. My favorite part of the ride was being startled by a long-haired orange cat perched on a mile marker at a crossing of the trail and a street.

 Today, The Dog and I did a recovery run in the cool Seattle day. A priest (Catholic? Episcopal?) sailed by on his commuter bike, still dressed in robes for services, and a wooden rosary hanging from his left side. Later down the trail, The Dog and I made friends with an old Bernese mountain dog, who initially barked up a storm, but didn't protest when The Dog sniffed and I pet her. I led her back to her house (I'd seen her on other runs and knew where she lived) and we carried on.

 Sometimes, it is easier to just be tired. But every time I've put the effort in to get out and be active, I've been rewarded with the little glimpses of life that it are sometimes all too easy to miss. I'm getting "better-stronger-fitter-faster," my mantra when it is rough going, but more than that, I feel at peace and connected to my world. Life is good. 

Rain on a Thursday evening

So one of the lovely things about Seattle people is that rather than run inside from the rain, many people run into the rain. I went for a run and the rain started near the end, and I stopped and walked and felt the cool raindrops splash my face. It was such a great feeling, and one I've never gotten during a sunny run. Just now, I'm sitting in my sweet little apartment, listening to a dad exclaim about the rain, and stomping in puddles with his daughter, who is cooing and exclaiming enthusiastically back to him. That's the gift of the Northwest- a love of weather most people dread in other parts of the country. There is nothing like the sound of the rain on a roof or windows to make me feel cozy and cocooned in warmth!

 In other news, my stress level has dropped, for now, with the news that I got the position that I've been working towards in my ED. And the reaction from my fellow staff nurses has been really great so far, which is really heartwarming. I'm now in that lovely place between the achievement of a title and actually having to work and having increased responsibilities. :) So I'm going to enjoy this, because in 3 weeks I'll start grad school AND a new job, and life may not be quite so relaxed. But I'll be ready for it!

The sweetness of friendship

Wow, my last post was in May. It has been such a busy and lovely summer!

 It has been a little difficult at work. I'm up for a promotion against someone who is so very unlike me, but qualified for the role in a different way. What makes it so hard is that everyone KNOWS we're going against each other, and it is a very public and long and drawn out interview process....closing in on two months, maybe one more to go. Huzzah for a state position, I guess!

 Anyway, I had a really come-to-Jesus interview in which I felt incredibly vulnerable and not understood, and it really shook my confidence in myself as a professional. That faith in myself and my ability has never been a question for me, and I work really hard to maintain my expertise and excellence with patients and family.

 That said, what has come out of this experience is that I have some really great friends. And to top off this professional razing of my esteem, I've moved and have been working a bunch of shifts in a row.

 Grump alert:
 Today, I was exhausted and got home from work around 4am. One of my dearest friends requested a ride to the airport at 9:30am. To you, dear reader, who may work a "normal" job, this doesn't sound unreasonable. But when you get off at 4am, 9:30am, which necessitates an 8:30am wakeup, is something more akin to a normal person's 2:30am. Needless to say, as much as I love my friend like a sister, I was NOT kindly disposed to the ride. She's saved my rear any number of times though, so I woke up and drove her to the airport. Doesn't mean I was a particularly pleasant morning person, though. ;)

 Anyway, after that, I did some errands and chores, and then my friend from work came over and saw my new, beautiful apartment, and then we went to the pool and laughed and chatted and giggled and gossiped and had meaningful talks and all the things that you do with a good friend on a warm summer's day. And it was good! And I feel rejuvenated!

 Hooray for friends!! Life continues to be good!

Bitter and Sweet

Sometimes in my job..no, actually, it happens every day I'm there. Anway, sometimes you see that life is so much harder than you could have imagined.

. Today I saw a man dying of liver cancer, who lived in another state and came to Seattle for a second (maybe third or fourth?) opinion. He was cachectic, which means he was experiencing the extreme weakness, fatigue and muscle wasting that comes with advanced and incurable cancer, but he had a distended abdomen full of third-spacing fluid. He stooped and scooted, slowly, to the ED stretcher. His heart rate was in the 130s, and he was tachypneic (breathing fast) from the effort of a 2 foot transfer from wheelchair to stretcher. Yet he did it. And when I misspoke his name, he corrected me and made a joke about it. Here was this man, who looks barely human, and he still had his humanity. But what he didn't have, and what is so painful to see in the ED that I work in, which is part of a hospital famous for transplants and cancer treatment, is that he hadn't accepted that he was dying. And it was so painfully obvious to us, his caregivers, because we see it every day. In each doctor or nurse's eye who saw him, you could see the truth. But he couldn't. And I wonder: if I am diagnosed with cancer with a low survival rate, like liver cancer stage IV skin cancer, or any of the numerous kinds of cancer that until I started working here I truly hadn't even HEARD of, will I be able to look down the road and see death, and welcome him gracefully, or will I fight and fight, until I have expended every ounce of my strength, of my family's strength, and of my healthcare options, before I yield? When I saw this man, I hoped that I could yield, but I also recognized his fight, his humanity, and mourned that the care we give him will lengthen his life, but won't increase his number of "good" days. But that decision, to fight or yield, isn't up to me, and it is up to him and his God, if he believes. But when I saw the pain in his aunt's eyes, I wondered what is the better part of valor. She quit her job in the other state to come care for him in his last chance at a "second opinion," and you could see that she knew, even if he didn't. She had to leave the room a few times, but she was there for ten hours, a watchful, loving sentinel and witness to his pain and suffering.

 I've been that sentinel, in some form, for my grandfather, and I know what it can take out of a person to be that. My grandpa had had a full life, and I do believe that he chose to leave our world when he saw that the pain of his family watching and caring for him was greater than the last bits of life he was living. I will always be grateful for that.

 But my grandpa was an old man, and could yield after a long life. This was a young man in his forties. Not only is he fighting cancer, but he is fighting the unfairness of a diagnosis that happened in the prime of his life, when his entire being is screaming to LIVE and grow and feel and love and not to die. He's fighting life itself, as his own body turns against him, and I can't imagine the struggle.

 So I watch, and I medicate for pain, and I offer what small consolation I can in the form of responding to his soul, and not the body wasting away from the inside. And I am grateful that I get to do this, and that I work with people who feel the same, and do the same, and still can laugh and lean on each other and go into the room of the next person who comes into our ED, and provide that care. There is no greater honor, and I am so grateful to be a part of it.

Pacific Northwest

It is awesome to live in a major US city, wake up, have a leisurely two cups of coffee and breakfast, and then decide to go for a hike and be in the mountains an hour later. I like that a lot.

  

The Dog on A Mountain

Random Rainy Day Thoughts in Seattle

1. Why does The Dog get grumpy when I take her to the off-leash dog park? Other dogs tried to sniff her and she'd annoyed-snarl (you know, more "Back off, buddy," than "I'm going to eat you!") and trot back over to me. Was she having a bad day? Didn't like the rain? Thought she was protecting me? Who knows. Sigh.

2. I like getting carded when I'm at the grocery store buying a bottle of wine. I know they have to card everyone. I still like it!

3. Helping someone I really like put his dryer on top of his washer and bolting it down is more fun than going to the symphony and dinner with someone I don't really care about. That's so nice.

4. After a total of almost 6 years of Seattle living, I think that we women of Seattle don't wear makeup not because we're so fresh-faced and healthy living (though we're that, too), but because it is a pain to get mascara and eye makeup down your face on a rainy day. Much easier to just go sans makeup!

5. I still get goosebumps when I'm driving or running and look up to see the Cascades on one side, and/or the Olympics on the other. It's awesome.

6. Running in the rain with a dear friend is the best way to start a Sunday morning!

That's all. Hope everyone is having a good day!

Spring is springing!

So.....

  The tulips are in blossom. The Bachelor is almost over. The days are getting longer. And birds, bees and humans are starting to wake up from their winter slumber and notice the world and others around them.

 Well, I'm no different than the birds and the bees. And, this spring, I'm noticing a particular person in my world more than others. It feels dangerous, rebellious even, to be posting about this, but I think the only people that read this are my family, and as I am a part of the Flannery Gossip Chain, it ain't new news. :)

 So I'm feeling that someone is dreamy, and easy to talk to, and smarter and more decent than I can believe, so I've got a goofy smile on my face and a feeling that even if it doesn't last (and I think it might), I'm happy and renewed in knowing I can feel this light and happy and smiley.

 So yeah. Life is good. Work as always as good, but there is this special something in the air for me. Like the birds, the trees and the Earth herself. Spring is springing, and it's about time! 

A Letter To Grandpa

Ray E. Tucker passed away on February 22, 2006. I think of him every day.

Dear Grandpa,

 Today I made coffee in  the white coffee mug with the flag pattern that you bought at the PX almost ten years ago, and I thought of you. I also thought of you when I added creamer to my coffee. I could practically hear you say, "Katie, you've adulterated a perfectly good cup of coffee with that milk." I remember you telling me about your first cup of coffee on the train to Parris Island for your Marine boot camp, and how much you loved it after being awake and exhausted for hours.

You were a Christian in the truest sense of the word. You thought that God loved people, and that people were basically good, and that it was our duty to love and respect those we come into contact with. You lived this despite the horrors you saw on Iwo Jima and in Korea, and lived your life in service to your country, your family and God. You were such a gentleman, always, to those that know you. Neighbors at the Bay still remark on what a fine gentleman you were, and I couldn't agree more.

 Now, Grandpa, we both know that you also weren't perfect. I used to get so mad when I'd mow your yard for two hours and you'd come out and point out the 1 foot area that I missed and make me remow it. Or when I had to surreptitiously sort the mounds of mail you received to separate the bills from the junk mail and you'd yell at me, though we eventually came to an unspoken agreement, that as long as you weren't in the room when I sorted it, you'd accept the much reduced pile as the mail you needed. Or when I didn't wash the dishes before putting them in the dishwasher at the house in town, and you'd make me redo them.

 But now, those annoyances make you still real to me. I cherish those small moments, the annoyances, or little laughs, or grocery trips, that we had that connected us. I remember when I told you I had to put Penny down, and I was so afraid you'd be mad, but you looked at me with such love and said, "Katie, you do what you can." And I knew you meant it, and understood, and loved me.

 I remember when, after Grandma died, I came to visit and found you over the newspaper, and you looked up and said, "I keep thinking she is still here, and I call out to her to read her something from the paper, and I remember she's gone." I thought that you two knew such love, and that that was such a blessing, and that I was so lucky to be a part of this family thread filled with love.

 Most of all, I remember walking the beach at the Bay with you, as a child, when I thought you'd dug out the slough for me alone, and as an adult, when you reminisced about your first marriage, and your career, or we talked about our family history, and we laughed as we looked for shark's teeth, and I told you about my boy troubles, or work, and we just enjoyed the Bay.

 You gave me so much love and joy and I learned so much from you. I miss you, but I'm mostly so grateful to have had you in my life, Grandpa. I know you didn't believe in an afterlife, but I also know that you live on in the memories of your family, and we'll never forget you.

Thanks for everything, Opa. Tonight, I'll listen to Satin Doll and Moon River, and think of you, and smile.

Love,
Katie

I went "home" to the East coast last week. It was awesome to seem Mom and Dad and also some really amazing friends. Absence does make the heart grow fonder, and seeing my friends- and also, my mom and dad interacting with my friends- made me realize how lucky in life I've been. No, I don't have a boyfriend/husband/significant other. Nor do I have babies. Both of which I totally thought I'd have by now. But I have these amazing people in my life, whom I really don't know if I'd have had time to forge relationships with if I DID have those other things. Good thing to remember.

 But then, because of a stupid burn (or a few, but whatever), I've been out of my job for a week, and have to be out for another week, which is super irritating. Actually, not even irritating, but depressing. I like my job, I like my friends at work, and I'm sad not to be able to BE THERE right now. Argh.

 Anyway, just some thoughts.

Breaking down

My body feels like it is breaking down. I managed to tear my left trapezius at a track workout, and still haven't recovered. I'm sick AGAIN, and had to call into work. I feel like I'm never going to be well. I usually have so much energy, but lately, my reserve just isn't there and it is so frustrating!! I just want to go for a run, be able to make it through 12 hour shifts and be WELL. I get so irritated with people who constantly focus on their poor health and I'm becoming one of those people. AARRRGHHH!!!!

Eagle

Today I went for the first run of the New Year. Predictably, there were way, way, WAY more people than normal at my favorite running spot around Greenlake in Seattle. I've heard people snarkily poo-poo the people that resolve to get out at the beginning of the year, spending time outside, or at the gym, and (this is what really eats them up) taking up what "the regulars" think of as "their" space, as though the people who are making the first effort towards health are less worthy of the gym equipment or running space or whatever than those who've been at it more consistently. I think that's crap. Everyone has to start somewhere, and the New Year is a natural time for reflection in our society. So as I veered around 5 times the amount of traffic at Greenlake, I smiled. Thank goodness everyone was outside, enjoying the beautiful day, with friends and family. Better to be making a fresh start of it, and enjoying the day, than sitting at home on the couch, not using your body. And I think that today, nature agreed with me, because for the first time since I came back to this city I love, a bald eagle was perched in the top of a pine tree at Greenlake, and there were so many people out to see his (maybe her?) magnificence. So thanks, eagle, for sharing yourself with all of us on a beautiful winter's day in Seattle.