I am pooped out and crabby and everyone knows it. Most of the time, I can handle being tired (for a little while). I can work an extra-long shift, exhausted after only a nap, and even work hungry while gulping down mouthfuls of ice cubes when a break is nowhere in sight. But when I am much too sleep-deprived, I don't seem to have much control over my reaction when that unexpected, "didn't see that coming" kind of "slap in the face" moment happens. That always seems to happen at exactly the time when I am approaching the summit of my tolerance level - that same summit that I don't know is anywhere near until I have reached it! Over the past few days, I've grumbled and complained about how exhausted I am, probably much to my friends' very own "heard enough" summits. First, I ... View Post
Please Hold For The Next Available Operator
Certainly I could eat my breakfast and still have time left to call the physician's office while on a 30-minute break. My question was simple, and would only take a minute. "Press 1 if you want to make an appointment." No, that's not what I need to do. "Press 2 if you need to cancel an appointment." Nope. I don't need to do that either. "Press 3 if you need laboratory results, 4 if you know your party's extension, 5 if you want to request a prescription refill, 6 if you want to leave a message for the nurse, 7 if you have questions regarding your bill, 8 if you need to make billing arrangements, 9 if you want to speak to someone at the front desk (eventually), zero if you need to speak with an operator, and the pound sign if you want these options repeated." Goodness. ... View Post
The Porch
THE PORCH “In my Father’s house are many mansions: if it were not so, I would have told you. I go to prepare a place for you.” (John 14:2 KJV) Ethel Mae was a sweet 92-year-old woman with cancer that had spread to just about everywhere. Her pain on any day was horrific, but Ethel Mae refused anything more than a Tylenol, and the only time she was not smiling was when the thermometer was in her mouth. When I teased her about that, she was determined to try to smile with it in her mouth, which was not difficult at all for this joy-filled woman to do. Professionals in white coats and foreign accents came in and very clinically tried to talk to Ethel Mae regarding her “code status,” using a vocabulary very unfamiliar to a 92-year-old woman from the south. Her life-long ... View Post
No Ian, You Cannot Ride A Bull!
It was about 100 degrees out the summer day that we decided to take our visiting cousins horseback riding out in Romeo. We'd spent the morning making stuffed cabbage in my then un-air-conditioned home, so I'm not sure what gave us the notion to go horseback riding. But off we went. My sons were probably 7 and 9 at the time, and wanted to ride the biggest horses available. "Are you sure you don't want to ride a pony?" the manager asked. But oh no - My sons couldn't be bothered with a little pony. So they mounted them each onto a horse, and off they walked out of the barn. And stopped. No matter what the trainer did, those horses didn't want to budge in that sweltering summer heat. Very disappointed, it was not long before we headed back into the barn where the temperature was a ... View Post
Nurses, Docs, & Difficult Talks
Statistics say 10 out of 10 people are going to die. The odds are not in our favor. That's what I thought about yesterday as I overheard a very elderly woman yelling at a doctor. "FIX HIM! And STOP TRYING TO KILL HIM!" She could barely stand without her walker. Her husband could hardly breathe. And I thought about my friend, Ryan. You see, Ryan called me late the night before last. It's been 6 months since his Grandma passed away, and he misses her. He knows I blog, and write, and love to communicate stories that people can relate to about life in general, but especially about the day-to-day life as a nurse. "Rita! Please, write a blog about palliative care! We've got to tell people about the importance of difficult conversations!" he insisted. Now, I ... View Post
Glimpses of Others’ Glimpses
So, I set out to write a book, filled with collections of other peoples' glimpses of God, and in doing so........... I get some more of my very own glimpses, PLUS, get taught a few things! Here are only a few: I always thought I was the only person on the planet who accepted Christ, and wandered for decades before deciding to FOLLOW Him. Not true. Turns out, not only is he persistent in His pursuit of our SOUL, He is also persistent in His pursuit of our ENTIRE hearts and lives. And, there are many people who wait decades, just like me. Every truly saved person has a "But God..........." moment. God knows us. He knows if you will listen to a song, if you will read a book, if you will watch a movie.... He knows our personalities, and He knows just exactly ... View Post
The Time Book – (Do YOU Know Its Balance?)
Before I left for the grocery store last night, I thumbed through my envelope system of budgeting. Utilities, Gas Money, Car Insurance........... Ah! There it is! GROCERIES! I removed the last $23 with yet a week to go before payday and thought, "Yikes! I'm going to have to RE-THINK my envelope amounts, and perhaps drop a few more bucks in here each month!" After frugally choosing this week's groceries in order to not go over that $23 in my wallet, I chose very carefully, even I dare say - Wisely! At the register, I chatted with the cashier who has been there since my boys were 3 and 5 years old. She shared with me that her brother just passed away, and then teared up as she said, "Rita, I wish I'd have spent more time with him. But I can't now." Upon returning home, I ... View Post
More Than A “Specimen”
I wish that I could describe just what it's like to visit Shryock Embryology Museum at Loma Linda Hospital. I wish I could adequately describe what it's like to watch young medical students graciously, and accommodatingly, walk out, so that the mother (me) of her child, whose soul is in heaven, but whose broken body sits, suspended in a glass jar, on a shelf, in a museum, could once more, count her fingers and toes. The woman who runs the museum greets me with a hug. She brings me into the museum, and closes the door. I get to be alone for a little while. It takes me a little while to find her each time, as she has been moved to accommodate other "broken" babies, whose parents donated their tiny little bodies, for the benefit of learning more about what causes such ... View Post