A Few Words for Nurses Week

Sometimes, I think becoming a nurse is one of the best things to happen to me. Like mothering, it pushes me out of myself and smears me across the floor, taking to me to places I would never have gone. Making me better. I hate it sometimes, of course. Like this week: gray clouds and unending rain made me just want to stay in my bed. I felt tired of the routine and tired of working for a grant. I was just generally whiny. Driving through torrential rain to get to our satellite clinic where there is no case management on site and we face unique challenges, I thought: Why?

And then something will blindside me. I will guide a patient onto the scale and when I look down at the feet, I see 2 dirty, mismatched socks sticking out of some soccer slides. I see someone who doesn't have a washing machine. You jerk, I think to myself. I am continually reminded of how much I have. How lucky. I have written of this before, I know.

And I know some shitty nurses who don't give a shit. Maybe they got in it for the money, or maybe they have become burned out. I can see how that would happen. But most stay in it because they are caring. I work in a sub-specialty, where I care for the same 400 or so people regularly. That can be draining, but also powerful. Sometimes a patient calls me and I realize about 5 minutes into the conversation that they just want to talk. Some of them are isolated and lonely. So when I can, I hang out on the phone and listen, maybe tap at some other tasks while doing so. It's not much, but it's what I have to give. They sound lighter by the time we hang up.

I work with some people who have non-traditional behaviors and activities. I learn things every week. I learn not to be shocked; or at least, not not appear to be. And to love, without judgment. Do not judge someone who prostitutes to get by. You know nothing about who they are or what led them to that place. I take care of my patients' medical needs, I lend an ear and I love them. I endure smells and sights unpleasant, because everyone deserves love and care. This is what nurses do.

I got into nursing half-heartedly, with selfish goals in mind. And once again, I have been broken into pieces and those goals thwarted. And I am happy. Because I love caring for others. It is so humbling and such a privilege.  A lifetime ago, I helped babies come into the world, and that is pretty special. But what I do now is so deep and so wide that sometimes the view takes my breath away. I should thank them.

Greetings from Raleigh!

I am writing this from a rather nice Holiday Inn in Raleigh, NC. I mean, I am impressed. I'd come back. There is a fridge and a microwave in my room, and I didn't even pay extra for them. It was a hot drive and now I am sitting here relaxing with the AC kicking and my bare feet propped in the chair across from me.

This is me, holding my newborn.

For me, traveling alone is a lot like having a baby. I am anxious and fearful about doing it but I go for it anyway. I start out with a happy face, but then the first real contraction hits- I'm not sure about an exit (business or regular? Where's the sign? I went too far!) and then I have a little meltdown. I declare that I can't do this. That I am NEVER doing this again.

But of course: there is no place to go but forward. Nothing to do but push past my ass and enjoy the breaks when they come. And so I push on, exit by exit, until at last my destination comes into focus and I have done it. I have arrived. My heart can leave my chest now, and it feels good.

Now I can sit here with my feet up and think to myself, that wasn't so bad. I might do it again, sometime. And then the whole thing will happen again.

I'm just not a born traveler. The itch for adventure doesn't live in me. I could plod along in the same routine forever and not really feel like I'm missing much. And of course I am. I wonder to what degree the spirit of adventure can be cultivated. If so, maybe my sense of direction can be cultivated also.

But I bet you're wondering what this born homebody is doing out of state. It is because I have been designated the Quailty Coordinator for our Ryan White clinic. We have to show the folks that give us all our funding that we are using the money to take excellent care of our clients. Not only that we are meeting the required benchmarks for quality, but that we are continually shooting above and beyond. Our eventual goal is to become an HIV Center of Excellence, which is a pretty lofty goal. We aren't there yet. First, we need to get a solid quality program in place. Which is where I come in.

So tomorrow I am attending an all day "Quality Assesment 101" class here on the campus of NC state. And get this, I also have a personal quality coach who is going to work with me regularly to help me get our program in shape! Also paid for through the grant. Of course, I don't improve the qualiy of the clinic single-handedly. Our whole team plays their part. But think of me as the engineer, creating a plan and delegating the right tasks to the right people.

I feel daunted, but excited for the challenge. Call it an adventure, if you will. Perhaps mine are meant to happen off-road.

First Reading

I've read a poem or two aloud, here and there. But recently I had my first real poetry reading at Riverviews. There was another poet there, Jon Thelin, and also a jazz band called Quintana. The house wasn't packed out, but it was my first real reading and I was excited. I had been rehearsing with Quintana and we were to perform a collaboration on a few songs. I think those rehearsals were what really got me pumped up about the reading. The music brought my words to life in a whole new way.

When I got up to the podium after a lovely introduction by my friend Vic, I felt strong and confident. As my words came out into the room, I felt them winding around the audience and holding them by their shoulders. There was power there. So I read a few more, and then the band came up and joined me for my last few poems. I ended my reading to the backdrop of saxophone and bass, and the applause of my listeners. I felt saturated by good feelings. I wanted to go home and write.

I should have. Instead I went downtown to the bar that sponsors the event because the readers get to drink free. I am getting too old to stay out that late when I have to get up the next day. But of course, it was fun while it lasted. It was Gay Pride night there, and folks were dressed up and singing and I felt so grateful that those folks have a place that they can go and just be who they really are. It's all any of really wants, right? It's   always been my favorite spot in town.

Now I am back home in my sweatshirt and my routine and I am asking myself what's next.