Pregnancy/Life Update from the world's worst blogger

In my mind I think about blogging. But when it comes time to sit down and do it, I just don't make the time. Sorry folks. But most of you are on Facebook by now, so I don't feel bad, you still have access to our lives, stories, and photos, just in a different venue. But for the 2 or 3 of you who've yet to join that time-sucking social networking tool, here are some photos of my pregnancy and the past 3 months of our lives. I finally took them off our camera to share them.
PHOTOS
It has been a busy, glorious, tragic time... I don't even know where I left off, so where to begin... Our trips west were amazing. Seeing friends/family, visiting places we love, eating food we like, etc. were all such treats. It was hard to come back to TX. But April zoomed by as we got Claire's nursery ready and read way too many books on what the heck to do with her when she comes. I had another baby shower here 2 weeks ago, and we have practically everything we need, which is nice.

Los loves his job, and has had great opportunities to fly and invest in younger guys here, both work related and otherwise. We love the squadron we are a part of, it's a great community, and are enjoying lots of times with others (sharing meals, game nights, watching our minor league baseball team play, and yesterday I think there were something like 8 teams of 6 members each that completed the Beach to Bay Relay Marathon; Los' team got a 3:02- really fast, considering that 4 miles were on sand!) Friendships are growing down here, which is great; and we love living down the street from Kiesh/Dave the newlyweds. Our other great neighbor friends Gabe and Meredith are people we see/love a lot too. Gabe was in a (car-totalling) gnarly car accident 2 weeks ago, and should have died; but miraculously, his life was spared. We've spent some good time with them and he is doing so much better, and will get to see their baby boy be born in 3 months, amen! While visiting him in the Emergency Dept. I felt nostalgic about my time last year as an ICU/ED chaplain. I don't know if that will be part of my future, but I missed it. I think working part-time preaching will probably be all I do the next two years, but we'll see.

Lastly, our pregnancy is almost over. We're excited about that, I'm bored by pregnancy; I feel like I endure it as a means to an end, but not really enjoy it. Lots of women I know LOVE being pregnant. I am not one of those people, and I am okay with that. I don't hate it either, but I feel like I put up with it more than relish in it. It's annoying to me when people talk to me, that's the first/sometimes only thing they want to ask about. I know their hearts are in a good place, I just don't always want to talk about it. At least they don't rub my tummy:) Only a few gals do that. At 38 weeks, I'm not too physically uncomfortable to be miserable, in that regard Claire could stay inside for months and I wouldn't mind. She has not over-stayed her welcome, she has never kicked me in the ribs, or anything like that.

I'm just bored; on with it already, let's get the show on the road. I feel grateful that I haven't gained too much weight, and am still able to sleep on my stomach, and do most everything I would otherwise, but after all the reading and nursery-preparing we've done, we just want to hang out with Claire; waiting for her to come out is getting old. AND, though I haven't had physical issues with pregnancy, 2 weeks ago at a squadron event, wives got to go in the planes and taxi them around the runway. This was SO much FUN (it is harder than it looks! did you know you steer a plane with your feet?!) BUT, when I was climbing out of the pilot's seat, I lost my balance (thank you bowling ball/dead weight attached to my front) and fell- splitting open my pants and leg, bleeding everywhere on the plane, awesome. I have a bruise the length of my shin bones and my scabs are going to leave a memorable scar. My hip also was hurt, and I'd like to get an MRI asap to see if any ligament damage was sustained; but this has to wait for Claire to come out. So in that regard, it will be nice to carry less weight around:) I don't want to complain too much, since it could be WAY worse- my friend Jodi tore her ACL/MCL/PCL and cartilege, just had knee surgery this week; I am grateful to be as mobile as I am at 38 weeks, even with this stupid injury. I just want to heal.

So that's the big update. Maybe I'll take some nursery photos and throw them up here. Everything else should be visible in that photo album I posted; let me know if you can't access it for whatever reason. Hopefully I'll get back to blogging semi-regularly soon. After all, I hear that new parents rarely sleep, this could give me something productive to do:)

It's a... girl??? Help us think of a middle name.

After all the anticipation building up to the climax of yesterday's sonogram, the experience was anti-climactic to say the least! Apparently our little person was hanging out in the womb a little backwards or upside down, or the opposite of however the tech needed her to be to see her private parts. She's modest already, I'll take it!

She checked her brain, heart, kidneys and all her perfect little organs for a LONG time before saying, "I don't see anything dangling, I'm pretty sure it's a girl." What do you mean PRETTY SURE?! She said, "well if it was me I'd go out and buy pink. Just save your receipts." Um, okay... The OB confirmed that opinion, but said you can never be 100% sure until the baby comes out; which I didn't know. Our OB said that while she was in Med. School at Georgetown, the head of the dept. did her sonogram and told her that she was having a girl, when in fact it was a boy. So if he could make a mistake, anyone can... And apparently parents (who've spent $20G+ on decorating nurseries) have SUED hospitals before for wrongful determination... intense. So that's why they can't always give you a 100% positive answer.

But she said from our photos it was close to positive that we're having a girl, and they wrote girl in our chart, so that's what we're going with, unless surprised in June! We both really wanted a girl, so we're excited. Some of my reasons were vain (e.g. girls have cuter clothes) but others (girls can stay closer to their parents when they get married) had more validity. We know she'll be super strong-willed, tall and athletic, a natural leader; and we can't wait to meet the person that will change our lives forever. Or as Los' best friend said, "your heart is about to be ripped out." Just 4 more months! Now that we saw her for 1/2 an hour yesterday, it is starting to become more real to me, and for the first time in this pregnancy, I am beginning to get excited. I can't tell from looking in a mirror, but she's 10 inches long and looks like a real person! They sent us home with a DVD of her moving around inside me. Crazy.

We both love the name Claire, so that's what we'll name her, with the obvious nickname Clairebear already rolling off our tongues quite naturally. Wanting her to be multi-lingual out of the womb, we're already starting to talk to her in Spanish and other languages, so she can come out mastering them by elementary school:) Just kidding. Kind of.

Anyway, so there's our big news:) We're currently accepting all suggestions for middle names. We're not so sure what goes with Claire Evans:) Los wants her middle name to officially be Bear. But I'm not so keen on that, go figure:)

Pastor Casey?

The Job Situation
Okay, so I made myself walk to school today (1.5 miles in lovely Pasadena) so I could pray about some things regarding the future. I have been a student for 25, count them 25 YEARS. A quarter of a century. Unbelievable. So I have this ridiculous expectation that someone is going to hire me for $50-$100K right out of school and I’m going to have a dream job.
Except the problem is, we’re moving to South TX. So far, I’m not so sure that dream jobs exist there? And not being there myself, it is hard to get the feel for people and communities. God usually surprises me by bringing up something I never would have thought of, or designing life in a way I never would have expected life to work. So far so good, I have ZERO complaints about life thus far. So I should expect God’s covenant faithfulness to me to come through yet again. Why do I doubt? Oh yeah, it’s because my list of super sweet options for pastoral work so far are:

#1- solo pastor to a church of 50. Coming from a church of 3500, that’s hard to imagine.
#2- solo pastor to a small church of Filipinos! Even more awkward, as my Tagalog is less than sub-par☺
#3- Chaplain to an international boarding high school (cool, but a 45- minute drive each way)
#4- a substitute chaplain at the local hospital system (that already has 20 chaplains)
or today I found out about
#5- a 350 member church that wants a pastor part-time for youth/children. This may be my best prospect yet?

None of these are positions I fell in love with immediately, though some may be things I could get excited about when I actually meet the people/hearts involved. I am grateful for good counsel from pastor friends around the nation who I’m checking/balancing with (like a good Presbyterian). Here’s some of the advice I got today:
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What does have your name all over it is being a pastor. The context in which you do it matters in terms of fit and personality. But the work of being a pastor is the same irrespective of where you do it. The thing to note in process with any church is the health of the congregation and what pathology you're willing to deal with (and what pathology you need to run away from). In your first job you don't want to go to a place that has a history of being abusive to pastors. But if it's just a small dying church and they need you to do Mother Theresa work, that's not necessarily a bad thing and in my mind better than a hospital chaplaincy. Let's talk more, but that's the short answer.
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Here is what I can tell you from my experience:
Go to a place that you can buy into and support...
(1) the mission of the church- the explicit and implicit mission. (What do they say they want to be and do? What are they actually being and doing?)
(2) the model of ministry- their approach to programing/ structure/ philosophy (small groups vs sunday school? simple vs cafeteria approach? I would never go into a church to change or fix it as an associate, but to support and further what God is already doing.)
(3) the culture- the style, the vibe, the feel, the risk-taking/ adverseness, the friendliness, the age, uniformity/ diversity (this may be the most important thing in going to a church that no one ever talks about. Will you have to make apologies for what they do or how they do it? Is this the church you would chose to go to if you were just moving to town and you were going to pick a church to attend?)

Ask tons of questions of everybody. Ask them about their biggest change they've made in the last year. Ask the senior pastor what he is specifically and activity leading toward right now. Ask them about the last big disagreement and how they handled it. Ask about why staff has left. Get the names and numbers of previous staff and talk to them (don't skip this step).

Give Los total veto power. Don't ever go anywhere that Los isn't 100% called to.

Finally, don't settle. God is not a god of compromise. He hasn't called you to a mediocre place.
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AMEN
This advice seems to be good across the board, so maybe it will speak to some of you too?

Death is not Victorious

So the story behind my story. I didn’t tell the judge, but I will tell you guys. The day I got my ticket was my saddest day on-call at the ICU. I didn’t even really know how to write about it, it made my head spin. Instead, I stopped writing about my time as a chaplain at the hospital all together- not a good thing, but my coping mechanism. Recently, we went out to a great dinner at Quinn’s Pub (highly recommended!!) with our wonderful friend Jodi, who is a therapist. She made me consider illuminating this to get closure on that piece. So here is what I wrote about that day and why my head was elsewhere when I was pulled over:

What is it about when young people die that impacts me more than when older people do? My heart reels- it seems like such tragedy when young lives are lost. This past week I’ve spent time with the family of a 20-year old WWU student. He just thought he had a cold. A COLD!?!? People get those all the time, why would you think twice about it? But then it morphed into pneumonia, and before he asked his buddies for help, it became too late. What is it about our pride that gets in the way of asking for help?

By the time he made it to the hospital, his organs had started shutting down. He looked healthy and handsome, like your average vibrant student… but the inside of him was slowly dying. And what makes me so upset is that it could have been prevented! The value of community is another blog to be written, but augh!!! To see machines keeping him alive was devastating to his friends. They wept at the sight of him; and there’s something about strong, young males weeping that stirred me.
(segue: I’ve only seen my brother cry out of sorrow one time, and it was also at the death of a friend. Why does our culture say it isn’t okay for men to cry? That is ridiculous, because the squelched sorrow usually turns into anger or depression. I am all for free-flowing tears, get the emotion out people!)

By the time Chris’ parents disconnected life-support, 20 people had gathered into their son’s room. People were coping very differently, pacing up and down the hall, wailing and shaking, or frozen numb. His sister’s eyes were flashing with anger and she berated her parents for not matching her level of emotion. Melody, I will never forget her. Her parents are Christians, and although devastated at the loss of their youngest son, they also had a “peace that passes understanding.” Death is not victorious in their mind and while they will miss him like crazy, at least in the hospital, they seemed to have perspective that was a consolation. Melody, on the other hand, doesn’t share their faith, and had nothing to root her, so her powerful emotions were blowing her around with hurricane force.

I tried my best to be strong for her and for them, as well as all of Chris’s friends as they grieved in their varied ways. In all of my time at the hospital, I have never cried with a patient. Some times I would cry on my way home, or later in a day that something powerful happened. But not that day, I had barely stumbled back to my office when I couldn’t hold my sorrow back any longer. That feeling of helplessness just sucks. I imagine that’s something I’ll encounter a lot in parenthood too, people need to go through what they need to go through to grieve, learn, and heal, and there’s nothing you can do to rescue them- it would actually be dangerous and unhealthy to do so.

I hold on to the promise of Jesus’ resurrection, that in the end all things will be made new, and that death does not get the last word. But that only helps so much when you’re watching people writhe in pain. There’s no neat and tidy way to end this blog- it is what it is; and it took me 3 months to even say this much, so I’ll leave it at that. But I will say go hug someone, be intentional with those you love and for God’s sake, TELL someone if you’re not feeling well!

Transitions, Defensiveness, Wholeness..

My time is winding down at the hospital. I am trying to savor each conversation with patients and nurses, not knowing whether or not I’ll ever have an experience like this again. Last week one of my co-workers remarked that she was surprised I haven’t wept with patients. I was aware of multiple reactions to her comment. My obnoxious default (that I’m trying to change) is to be defensive and reactive. That isn’t helpful. Justifying oneself never seems to open conversations.

My second unhelpful reaction, which I’m also trying to change about myself, is to compare. If I am not crying as much as others, what does that mean? Do I suck as a chaplain? Are my empathy skills lacking? Is everyone else better than me? Why do I care, if they are- what does it say about myself that that is threatening?

Oh, introspection… my constant companion. I no longer want to live in a reactive space, either by becoming defensive, or comparing and beating myself up. I want to be comfortable in my own skin and do things my way, not trying to emulate anyone else, or measure myself against them. We all have different gifting. I want to be confident in and use mine, not that of someone else. I know who I am, I know how my heart has been deeply moved by patients and families; and that impact can manifest in a variety of ways.

However, I tried exploring her question, asking myself if I am letting my heart be callous as a coping technique for imminent transitions. I have experienced a lot of transitions in my life. More than most people. And I have many to anticipate on the horizon as well. Moving. Jobs. Friendships. A lot of saying goodbye and starting all over again. Withdrawal can be a natural, almost subconscious tendency for self-preservation.

My lovely friend Shannon is in a similar space, and shared this weekend how she’s stopped her premature grieving processes, since they aren’t helpful. Rather than letting her live in the present and make the most of opportunities, her heart has many times been burdened and distracted by question marks about the future, which have robbed her of being present.

I resonate with her, feeling like I’m merely ‘treading water’ at times, rather than being purposeful about the time I have. I would like to follow her lead in soaking in all a place has to offer before transitioning to the next place. Everywhere we go and everyone we meet have such extraordinary things to offer, if only we are open to the present. So that is my prayer for the end of my time here at the hospital, for this season of life, and for all who can resonate with this struggle to stay present amidst the question marks of life. Amen.

One Month and Counting

I am now starting my first countdown of 2008. I know there are a few more to come (countdown to graduating, to moving out, to renting or selling our house, to having a baby, to moving across the world…) yet I hate living in that space. That constant, anxious glance at the calendar and clock. That anticipation. Rather, I just want to live in the present, today, where I am. I want to savor and soak it all in while it’s still here.

My first countdown is to finishing my chaplaincy work at the hospital. I am both saddened and relieved when I think about it being done. I am relieved only because there are so many other competing factors in my life right now, and the addition of free time will be much appreciated. Yet I feel guilty about feeling this relief, as though in some way it negates the deep appreciation I have for my experience at the hospital. It has been an amazing time of examining myself and walking alongside others whom I would never have met if not for this season.

I feel sad because working here may be the most profound ministry I have ever experienced. Not in some terms, as building lasting relationships is a high value to me, and I don’t get that in an ICU or ED. But in terms of entering into peoples lives at such times of acute pain, grief, anger and sorrow, questions and wrestling over choices. To live, to die, to compromise, to have integrity. The hospital is a sacred space and I have been so blessed to be a part of people’s lives there. Though I know my countdown will end soon, I pray that I take and keep applying things I have learned at the hospital, about myself, about humanity.

Thank You, My Love: on Death and Making Good Memories

Today was one of my favorite days at the hospital so far. I met a woman who’s husband was in the ICU, about five minutes before the doctor came in to withdraw his life support. We sat there together, sometimes in silence, sometimes talking, watching him breathe his last breaths. It was a sacred space. I have seen all kinds of addictions and tragedies in the ER and ICU, but nothing has struck me like this woman’s love for her dying husband.

She was simultaneously strong and vulnerable as she shared what the process has been like for her. To see him being relieved of pain brought her joy, but the thought of being without him made her heart feel “so heavy, it’s like my legs won’t be able to support myself.”

They have been married 35 wonderful years. She told me lovely stories of their decades together, including the last words he spoke to her. A week ago, when she took away his dinner tray as she always did, he said, “thank you, my love.” Those are the last words his lips uttered.

Today, as he lay there gasping his last few breaths, she held his thin, frail, purple-skinned hands, and looked at him adoringly. She took a cloth and wet it, then wiped his face. Then she went to her purse and got out a comb, and smoothed out his hair. Small, unnecessary actions, done with such great, lavish love. It makes me think of the last night of Christ’s life, when he washed the feet of the disciples. Unnecessary, and about the last thing I would do if it was my last night on earth; but he chose to serve those he loved.

After a while longer in the room, she decided to go get something to eat in our cafeteria. As I walked her to the elevator, she asked about my marriage. I shared a bit, then thanked her for letting me share such a beautiful and moving last moment with her beloved companion. Before she stepped on to the elevator, she said, “I’ll always have the memories, I’ll carry those with me. Make sure you and Carlos make LOTS of good memories. Save for your retirement too, but go home today and tell him you want to make memories, that’s what life is about.”

Amen. I pray that we and all of our friends can live such lives, FULL of adventures and great memories, so that at the end of our time on earth we can look back on our lives and say, “Thank you, my love.”

Snapshot of a Night On-Call

Take a shower. Dress nice. Feel dread, feel fear. Look at myself in the mirror and tell myself, “self, snap out of it.” Pack my bag, head to hospital, feel joy, feel anticipation. Want to turn around and drive home. But don’t. Walk through hospital doors, clock in and put on pager and ID badge, feel competent, feel official. Go to office, organize things, look at pager every 5 minutes, feel neurotic. Want to be paged a lot, want not to be paged at all. Check my email too many times. Try to settle down and read. Doesn’t work. Go out to dinner with hubby and mom, try to stay present, all the while feeling on-edge and nervously glancing at pager with increasing frequency. That thing owns me tonight. Go back to hospital, meet Jonathan and Lynnea, give all 4 people a tour. Feel professional, feel proud. Hang out until 11:30, feel tired, then go back to my office to make my bed. Get some sleep, not sound sleep, I am at a hospital on-call and my pager is 10 inches from my head, but sleep nonetheless. No page wakes me up, only my own anxiety of a potential page. 8am comes. Off duty. Turn the pager off. Relax.

Our Christmas "Update"

Happy Holidays from the Evans family! We look forward to hearing about your year. Carlos was gone about 6 months again this year, for deployments to the Middle East. In his last tour, he was the Mission Commander, and this fall he was promoted to be an Instructor Pilot. When he came home we bought him a new Prius, which we love (50 mpg!) and he just ran his 5th Half-Marathon with his best friend Erik. I have kept busy with school (I’ll finish my Master’s this summer!), being a chaplain in the ICU at a local hospital, mentoring college students, traveling 10 weeks myself, and gardening at our house (over 400 things planted, including a vegetable garden, which was fun).
When he was home in spring, we went to Australia for two weeks. Beforehand, we didn’t really care where we went; we were just looking forward to spending some concentrated time together. However, snorkeling in the Great Barrier Reef is now among the top highlights of our lives: the brilliant rainbow of sea life was breathtaking. Queensland is a lot like CA or HI, without all the people and development; really peaceful and restorative. If you’re up for an adventure, we highly recommend it!
This summer when Los was gone, I hung out with my family in CA, and visited my bro, who was playing baseball in Switzerland. I took my mom, who’d never been to Europe before, around Switzerland, N. Italy (Lake Como, Cinque Terre), the S. of France and Paris. It was special to be with them in countries I love, and to show my mom where Los proposed to me in France.
Los and I love to see the world and are now gearing up for our next trip, with our great friends, the Flory’s, to South America. We’ll hike a lot, ride horses and kayak in Patagonia, and see Santiago and Buenos Aires. We leave the 4th, which is why you’re getting this early? We’ll be back in Seattle for the holidays and hope to spend time with as many of you as possible!
p.s. by this time next year, we will have sold our house (yikes) and moved somewhere in the country/world (unknown to us at this point), so PLEASE keep in touch. Our blog is a great way to stay connected, we regularly write and post photos, and would love to stay up to date in your lives as well. You can reach us at www.caseandlos.blogspot.com no matter where we go!

Blessed Chaos and Counseling

I feel like my brain might explode, there’s so much going on in life right now. I don’t think I realized it since it’s just this season of my life, and when you’re in that state, you’re going day by day, and don’t get the bigger perspective; but a pastor I met with last week said that Los and I have so many active components and ambiguities that it is really stressful. With all of Los’ traveling, my school, ordination exams, moving (somewhere?) next summer, contemplating selling our house and pregnancy, and me working at the hospital now (on top of our other investments, friends and family) there’s just so much happening. In a really good way, it’s painful, all of this learning that is happening; but it’s to the point where I’m having a hard time fitting everything new in my brain.
I love being at the hospital, which is stretching me and challenging me. Something that’s very important to me is that my life has integrity, so practicing awareness of ‘resistance’ takes so much work, for introspection and healing. We cannot change other people, we can only change ourselves, so whenever we get upset about something, looking at why that issue pushed our buttons is a hard task!
So Los and I might start doing some counseling, to be set up for success. We have started talking about starting a family, but we’d like to feel as healthy as possible before that, since everyone counsels us that when your family expands, issues can be exacerbated. We don’t really have problems, but we certainly experience ‘resistance’ toward some things the other does or says; I don’t know if it’s possible to ‘fix’ that or not; but we could stand to grow in awareness of the deeper issues which trigger little explosions from time to time. Starting to practice this discipline has taken me off (and others off) any high horse. Now I am noticing flaws, or ‘growing areas,’ all the time! So we’ll see where we go from here? Growth is always good, and even if it’s painful, I am glad for it. It’s certainly not boring!

Emotional Exhaustion

After week three of working at the hospital, I feel emotionally exhausted from the sheer volume of information and encounters I’ve experienced… I’ve cried every week. At least I am in touch with my emotions and can do that; one lady related that she and her husband are emotionally frozen and she can count the # of times she’s cried in her life… I laughed inside, since Los and I are both big criers. It’s so cathartic, I can’t imagine not being able to cry! Thank God my mom always encouraged that when I was a kid. I cry at movies, when I talk to friends, wherever- out of sadness, joy, love, whatever. This weekend I cried b/c one of my pastor’s 2 year old has cancer. I want to go to the blood drive in his honor in November. I can’t imagine the pain that family is experiencing.

One of the major foci in my experience as a chaplain is getting in touch with deep buttons within yourself, so that when they are pushed, you don’t react from a place in the past, and can identify the situation for what it is. One of my buttons is needing to achieve/belong, so when I heard the 6th person (in 3 weeks) remark on how young I was (“you are my kids age!”), it began to get to me… What I heard was, “you’re too young/not qualified to be here…” which I took offense to. But when I brought it up to people, I heard the exact opposite. They all said how jealous they were of me for being “wise beyond my years” and wished they’d known how to be more confident/assertive/perceptive at my age. Funny how communication erases misunderstandings.

When you are living out of your ‘true self’ then you can be present for others, to hear beyond their words. This great speaker we listened to said to pay attention whenever you feel ‘resistance’ inside of yourself. Exploring that resistance can shed light on what you might need to change to be fully available to another.

Thinking about that I realized that even though I’ve done a pretty good job (I think, so far) as a chaplain, I identified that I have a desire to assure people, or fix people, rather than to stay present with them in their pain. So I’ll need to explore that some. For example, one of my favorite people just lost a sibling to suicide, and I lost my grandpa to suicide, so when in the ICU today, there was a 25 year old guy who had just attempted suicide, I wanted to go in his room and tell him so much stuff, “You’re not alone!” and so forth. But a seasoned chaplain asked why I had that need, and encouraged me not to impose my needs on the patients, to be more of a listener, etc.

It’s SO hard to leave my own stuff at the door and not to say everything I’m feeling. I’ve always been more of a speak-first, think-later person, a terrible flaw at times… So I have lots to work on. But first, I’m going to lay down on the couch.

Grey’s Anatomy vs. My Real Life Hospital

While Los was gone this summer, I caved to the pressure of friends/mother in-law who have long watched Grey’s; I watched all 3 seasons at once! Intense… So when I started my new job as a chaplain (intern) at a hospital this past week, I thought I knew everything☺
Then I took the tour and went in to the E-R for the first time. My heart filled with fear. I have been doing ministry for 7 years, but as I looked at the empty trauma operating rooms, I thought, “who am I to be standing here? Do I have what it takes to walk alongside people in crisis?” I thought the answer was a resounding “NO!” To get away from feeling like an imposter, I had a big consult with my mom (psychologist for 30 years now) who reassured me that I was in fact prepared for this new season in life.
I believed her. Until 14 minutes after I went on-call for the first time. That’s when my pager went off, with a loud BU-DU-BE-DU-BU. I felt frantic. It said there was a double trauma. Not good. I was not expecting it so soon. I wasn’t dressed nicely, didn’t have makeup on, couldn’t think straight, yet I knew I needed to be in the ER in 30 minutes (which is a 30 minute drive away)! Here goes nothing…
Los drove me up there, for moral support, and so I could have time to clear my head. I walked in, was greeted by a nurse screaming at me for being late, then she dumped me into a small room of 15 sobbing people. Uhhhh… what do I do?
What started out as the most awkward situation I could imagine, ended up being a great experience for me. It turns out that my mom was right, and I loved being able to love on broken people who were devastated, and anxious about their loved ones… I thought I might faint at the sight of broken necks/femurs/bashed, bloody faces, etc. but I didn’t. I was strong and confident to support family members who couldn’t be. It was good to know I do have what it takes.
I’m sure this job will stretch/break/redefine me, and I am looking forward to that growth. But, as if to keep me humble, after my first evening of a job well done, right before I left the hospital, I missed a step and fell down stairs in front of other people. That would happen to me. Embarrassing but hilarious, and at least, if I had broken something, I would be in the right place. I am in the right place.