Monday, April 26, 2010

Signs I Don't See

Hello. My name is Firefly and, apparently, I don't handle stress very well.
I get really quiet. People notice. They ask what's wrong and I say nothing.
I don't hide it as well as I thought I did, either.
When something is wrong, it is written all over my face. My friends say that I get a look in my eyes, one that seems as if it is saying "Everything has gone to shit and I have no idea what to do."
Yay. That's pretty much the right idea.

The worst part is that I really have no idea what is wrong with me right now. I mean, I only have a week of clinicals left so there is light at the end of the tunnel. Rich is home from the hospital and seems to be better. A hot motorcycle cop blew me a kiss yesterday in traffic.
So why do I feel like my world is starting to cave in?

Friday, April 16, 2010

Thankful Thursday

So I am a day late late with this one. Sue me, bitches.
  • I am thankful that I am only 21 and that I can still use "youthful indiscretions" as an excuse for the way I have been coping with life the past few weeks.
  • I am thankful that, just as easily as I fall in love, I fall out of it or I would live in constant heartbreak. But that's not to say that I don't ever wonder what could have been.
  • I am thankful I have amazing friends that know me better than I know myself. To have people in my life that know when something is wrong by the look on my face despite how well I think I may hide it makes me feel loved. ♥

Wednesday, April 14, 2010

How do we handle it?

Nursing school sucks. It is as simple as that. The only advice I can give to someone looking to go to nursing school would be "don't."
But more than nursing school, clinical rotations on oncology suck worse.
It sucks that a young man has pancreatic cancer and his blood sugar dip to 30 without warning.
It sucks that after a lifetime of being a matriarch, a woman is trapped in hospital bed because her immune system is so compromised that if her grandchild comes to visit her with a cold, she could die.
It sucks that inflammatory breast cancer is misdiagnosed for so long as dermatitis that by the time it is caught, there is nothing that can be done and the patient is essentially rotting away from the inside out.
It sucks that a person can be perfectly healthy a few weeks ago, go in to get a tiny sore checked out, and never leave the hospital again.
It just sucks.

So tonight after I finish my paperwork, I won't think about it.
I will study the respiratory system for a while. I will go out with a girlfriend. We will shoot pool and laugh about something stupid with the bartender. We will bitch about guys and how neither of us understand them. We will send drunk texts. We will laugh some more. I will go home and read a good book. I will drink some tea and take a shower. I will pet my dog. I will say my prayers.

I will not cry about this. At least, that is what I am telling myself for now.

Monday, April 12, 2010

Just Say It - Beginning of April Edition

  • I am so happy that the good guy got the girl for once. You two make the cutest couple ever and I sincerly hope it works out between ya'll. Plus, if it doesn't then there would be a friend divorce and I just couldn't pick sides.
  • I might be young but I am old enough to know that you are missing out on something amazing. Have fun being single.
  • The past few weeks have been crazy and my head is in a weird place right now. I hope I haven't blown it with you already.
  • You are a pathetic, disgusting old man. Please go back to Ohio and that that other one who thinks BR girls are easy with you. You can leave the guy with the glasses and tattoo, though. He's okay.
  • You are the craziest chick I know and I love you. I had no idea when I started this journey that I would meet my best friend/sister/partner in crime. We might have had a little too much fun now and then but you have seriously kept me from going over the edge this past semester. Thank you for the pool lessons, the guy advice, and the laugh*so*hard*it*hurts moments.

Moments from Study Group

Me: "Hey MJ. Listen to this. 'Chemicals were identified as cancer-causing agents in the latter part of the eighteenth centery when Percival Potts noted than chimney sweeps had a higher incidence of cancer of the scrotum associated with exposure to soot residue in chimnesys.'"
MJ: "Okay.........why cancer of the scrotum?"

Me: "I imagine it had something to do with them attaching brushes to their crotch and humping the chimney clean.......try not to laugh about that during the test. They will think we are cheating."

Sunday, April 11, 2010


It is amazing what we inherit from our parents. All the crap that gets past down to us.
Some people are lucky and only end up with boxes of books and photos.
My siblings and I? Not so lucky.
We get mental illnesses.

On Tuesday night, my brother went off the deep end. There is really no other way to describe it.
We got home and he was fine.
I was up doing a clinical assignment for school at around midnight and, I don't know what happened.
He was talking strangely and, later, he had no idea if he was alive or dead. His pupils were huge, blood pressure 180/120 with pulse of 136...I wasn't able to count respiration rate but he was breathing fast and sweating profusely.
He kept asking about me, mom and my younger brother, saying that he needed to wake us up so that we don't die in the fire (there was no fire).
I woke mom up and we sat with him for a little while until he began to talk to an ex girlfriend he thought was in the room and screaming that the dogs were trying to attack him after I had already put them outside. I excused myself and called 911.
The cops didn't enter the neighborhood with the lights on but had a spot light scanning the houses to find us. When the light hit the window, he screamed and told me not to unlock the door. I said that it was okay, that I was just going outside for a cigarette. I don't smoke. He kept saying that I wouldn't come back inside, that I would die out there.
I don't want to bored you with anymore details aside from saying it took about an hour of negotiation with cops and paramedics for him to come outside and sit on the stretcher.
But he will be okay. We all will.

Friday, April 09, 2010

The Gentle Letdown

I'm not assertive. It just isn't who I am. I don't tell guys how I really feel about them. So for me to go out on a limb and tell someone that I do have feelings for them is rare. In fact, this was pretty much the first time it happened.
And you know what? Rejection fucking sucks.
Even when the guy is super sweet about it.

If fact, it is almost worse than if he would have been a complete dick. Because at least then I could say, "This guy totally sucks. Whew. Dodged a bullet there."
But no, he had to be fucking nice and a perfect gentleman.
On the bright side, at least now I know that I have good taste.