Wow...

Wow, what else can I say? I had my meeting with the Provost, perhaps the worst meeting of my life. He began the meeting by saying I didn't fit in. Then he proceeded to cite my personal testimony using it as "evidence" that I flaunt a persona of being an outsider. Then he continued by saying I question things (he specifically said that "challenge" would be too strong of a word). When I told him I though questioning and examining all aspects of something was a good thing, especially in education and asked if I was wrong; he replied, "It's just what you are." He could not deny that I had the right credentials, my students were meeting the objectives and I always got positive evaluations from the students. So the problem? I guess I just don't fit in, but the more I learn, the sad the situation becomes and the more I am glad I don't "fit in."
I will admit that this whole thing caught me off guard and I found it extremely upsetting. Perhaps what bothered the me the most was the misuse of my personal testimony. I shared that testimony of what God had done in my life with my colleagues at a faculty retreat in August. The testimony was not at all about "being and outsider," in fact it was about reconciliation. The testimony was about being reconciled to God, being reconciled to the Body of Christ and being given the ministry of reconciliation.
At the end of the meeting, he simply said "I don't know. If I was you and my wife were me, she would say to ask the other faculty in your department what they would advise you to do in seeking another job." I have a hard time thinking that would be what his wife would say, I'm thinking that sounds a little too "male." After he said that, however, I took a closer look at what my coworkers had that I didn't. What I found... A fake degree from a diploma mill? Yes, indeed it was, right there on the school's website for anyone to see. It's not listed up there anymore, but that doesn't fix the fact that they have been hiring people who lie about their credentials and people who aren't qualified for their jobs. My biggest concern is that this is deceptive to the students and if the program loses accreditation, what they all going to do? As angry as I want to be and much as my human nature want's to retaliate, I think I'm just sad. I love the program, I love the idea, I love the students... Right now all are in peril and I can't do anything about it but pray and God for stregnth to finish out the year.

Wear Nice Shoes...

Last week I got a rather disturbing email from the Provost of the university. It said something like this... "Contracts for next year will be send out tomorrow. I just wanted to let you know that you don't have one so that you won't be caught by surprise. I don't know what your conversations have been with the dean, but because he is out of town I just wanted to let you know."
It's a little late in the game not be caught by surprise... Usually if something isn't going well, you have some idea ahead of time. I can't help but be frustrated and a little angry by the lack of communiation. I sent the dean an email, but haven't gotten a response (which, in contrast, doesn't surprise me).
So... Hold that thought and let me move to another subject.
A few weeks ago an email went out at UW about a new clinical nurse educator position for the ICU. I didn't consider it seriously until somebody actually came up and asked if I would apply. So, with mixed feelings, I applied. I talked with the manager about it to get the details and then went home and prayed about it. I asked God to make it clear what I should do.
God's answer was, "Wear nice shoes."
I had applied a for a different position last year just to keep options open, but I wan't too sure about it so I went to the interview and did my best but didn't really go for the gusto. I was wearing mediocre shoes to that interview... (yes, it's a mediphore and perhaps something that you "just had to be there for." )
My interview for this CNE position was on Friday, I wore nice shoes... The manage said she would make a decision this week.
I have a meeting with the Provost in just a few minutes, I'm wearing the same "nice shoes." The few days are going to be big and I hope I get some clear direction. We shall see...

I Can't Even Imagine

I can't even imagine what a mother must feel like when her child turns up missing. I had been a little concerned about one my students recently. I had noticed a change since she had come back from Christmas break. She turned in her assignments late and just last week she had missed a clinical day. She had always been very respectful and responsible.
This Thursday as I drove my clinical sight, I though about the conversation I would have with her. I would talk to her about what was going on (as much as she would talk) and then I would tell her about how important it is to maintain balance. I would work with her to find ways to help her keep up. when I arrived the hospital she wasn't there. She usually carpooled with another student, but her carpool said she did come to the meeting place and she hadn't returned any of her calls.
I called her and left a message. I called her roommate but got nothing. I sent another student to her apartment on campus, nothing... I called the office to see if she had contacted them, still nothing.
I was at the hospital with 7 other students, but all I could think about was her. When I had seen her the day before she said something about being sorry her paperwork wasn't ready. I remember something different about her face and as she turned and went down the stairs, I resisted the urge to follow her and ask if she was ok.
A few hours into the shift, I finally got a call from the school vice president's office. They couldn't tell me much accept she was "having a medical emergency" but was now "safe and receiving care." I'm don't want to start making assumptions but I have strong feelings that I'm fairly certain of.
Such a sweet a girl, she is so intuitive and caring. I hate the helpless feeling of seeing her hurting but being unable to help her; of having seven more who are also concerned and asking questions but I can't say anything to them. If it feels like this to be a teacher, I can't even imagine what it feels like to be a mother.

My Thoughts, Unedited

I’m frustrated and prematurely burnt out. I keep on going, telling myself that I can hold out one more semester, one more year. I tell myself that this nearly unsustainable lifestyle is necessary for a short time in order to attain a goal that will help make things just a little better; livable is all I ask. I have been saying this to myself for 16 years.
First it was about living with split custody in two households that hated each other and feeling a part of neither. Then it was about working my way through college as an undergrad, moonlighting as a full time EMT in King County’s EMS system and the list goes on. Always feeling like I am falling behind, I work extra hard to try and keep my head above the surface forever telling myself that there are shallower waters just somewhere beyond the horizon.
Most recently I find myself about to begin a new PhD program. I have tried hard to strategically plan out how I will begin to attain this goal and make life a little healthier. I got excited because I knew something had to change. Normally I hate change, I think we all do; but now I realize that the pain of things staying the same is worse than the stress of facing change and so I welcome it. I make plans and make sacrifices. I tell myself that working hard will bare good fruit and that tending talents and developing expertise will one day be used to bless others and to make a difference and perhaps even to further the kingdom of God. Or maybe I just want to be a good teacher?
So here I find myself negotiating a full time teaching contract. I feel like for now at least, I need just one primary job (I would still stay per diem at the hospital) so that I don’t set myself up for failure in the PhD program. I can’t possibly picture my life without teaching and contact with students is what stimulates me and motivates me to keep on learning. But now, as I look at this constantly changing proposed contract, I am once again frustrated. Evening clinical is not my preference, but perhaps necessary for next year’s PhD course schedule. Pharmacology is not my area of expertise and I would have to spend significant amounts of time rewriting the curriculum. OB clinical! Are we forgetting that I’ve never worked in OB and was significantly traumatized by it when I was in nursing school? Mental health clinical; I am mental, does that count?
You want me to move my office out of the skills lab so I can have more serendipitous contact with the other professors who incidentally have historically made me feel disrespected and unappreciated? Did I neglect to mention that I became an educator because I loved working with students? Do you know that I often sit in my office with a stick in the door until 9 pm making myself more than available to them for questions or help with skills or just a listening ear? My “role” changes so quickly that I can’t keep up with it and I constantly feel like I’m a failure as teacher, which I have to remind myself is not true.
Do you just want a body with a master’s degree who is willing to work for next to nothing, or an experienced RN with a expertise in a unique clinical area and specialized training in nursing education, curriculum development and adult learning theory? Everyone wants a job that they feel like they are well suited for, one that capitalizes on their talents and areas of expertise. Everyone wants to be effective in what they do and wants others to be satisfied with and blessed by their work. Why then, do I constantly feel like I am being put in positions that emphasize my weaknesses? Why am I being be approached by other professors who question my teaching practices and belittle me? Why am I made to feel like I’m trespassing in my own office? Why is my area of clinical expertise ignored?
Do it all it a misuse of resources? Should I recite 2 Corinthians 12:9-10 (“In my weakness, He is made strong.”) Do I look at is as a unique opportunity to challenge myself and to grow? Should I see it as a closing door? Maybe it is “all of the above.”

Because Sometimes I Just Want to Talk About My Day...

I'm an innate debriefer, I always have been. It's a trait that often comes in handy as a teacher, but sometimes stinks when all you come home to is a cat. I'm not in the habit of talking to animals as if they were people unlike some folks are. Sometimes I just want to talk about my day.
I went to work this morning and got assigned to a male patient in his 40s. He had been admitted during the night from a rural hospital where he had presented to the ER with chest pain and difficulty breathing. On xray they had found a widening of the mediastinum and determined that the man had an aortic aneurysm. After all, he is have a history of marfans (a genetic connective tissue disorder that makes people prone to aneurysms).
Upon more testing at our hospital we found the aneurysm was 10.5 cm (the biggest I had ever seen) and so large that it was compressing his trachea (hence the difficulty breathing). When I arrived on shift, I was immediately asked to order and transfuse blood products, draw labs, complete an echocardiogram and prep. for surgery. Unfortunately I didn't the blood products hadn't arrived before I had to bring my patient to surgery. His airway had become so tenuous that we just couldn't delay any longer. I can still see the look on this man's face as we emergently wheeled him into the OR, he knew his chances were slim.
I had no sooner returned from the OR after dropping off my patient when I heard another nurse calling for help. I entered the room to find her manually ventilating her patient who was in respiratory arrest. During and after a rather chaotic intubation, the patient vomited the dreaded coffee ground emisis, the signature of a GI bleed. Only minutes later we found ourselves doing CPR and pushing ever vasopressor known to man. Ultimately the patient was resuscitated, but I'm not holding my breath about his long term outcome. Resuscitation is trauma in and of itself, one that I'm not sure a 91 year old man would want to or should have to endure.
Then as if multiple rib fractures from compressions weren't enough, we just had to go and start a central line in his neck. I'm all about working at teaching hospitals, but I have to say my arms and my back are still aching from standing in awkward positions with my hands under a sterile drape holding some guys head for over an hour.
My original patient never returned from OR before change of shift this evening. As I was setting up the room for his return I happened upon a "get well" card from his young son. It said: "I love you daddy. I hope you don't die. Could you please stay alive for me? I'll give you my whole allowance." (There was a wadded up dollar bill inside the card)

It's Not About the Dog

Last week I go a phone call from my mom at 5:30 am. She was in tears as she choked out, "Our little friend has died." I racked my brain for a minute desperately trying to figure out who it could have been but finally gave up and asked.
It was "Joshie," her itty bitty pocket dog. Joshie was the puppy of two of her previous dogs, a pom and Chihuahua; tiny and yappy indeed... In recent months the poor thing had developed congestive heart failure that was being managed by the finest "puppy cardiologist" around. Evidently the little guy had developed worsening shortness of breath during the night and mom had taken him to the emergency vet. She left him there for only a few moments to drive my grandmother home and that is when he finally died. She was ridden with guilt. "I never should have left him alone."
My mother isn't the most emotionally stable person in the world. Past experiences involving my mother and loss had me worried about how she would handle this. To make a long story short, she was devastated. My sisters and I spend several hours over the next couple of days with her sobbing on the phone.
I spoke with her one evening after classes and was quite surprised at what she said that day. "I know it's kind of ridiculous to be this distraught over a little dog. I'm scared, what am I going to do when Granny and Grandpa die? I've concentrated my life so much on those few things that I don't really have any friends. I put so many expectations on that dog, I thought he would be around forever to accept me, to greet me when I get home; but he couldn't, he was just a dog. The truth is that I'm alone with nothing in my life that is that meaningful."
Wow, she was dead on! She went on to describe a conversation she had with a neighbor in her driveway and then how she invited the little neighbor girl over to teach her how to crochet, a Bible Study Fellowship group she wanted to join... It's not about the dog indeed. If we just take the time to keep listening, we might find that out.

Heaven is Laughing...

I hadn't been to Beit Tikvah is over a year. I had thought about going several times, but the furthest I had gotten was to the parking lot. This last Friday marked the end of the Feast of Tabernacles and the celebrations surrounding the High Holy Days were wrapping up.
As I was driving home from clinicals, I decided to give it one last try. Long story short, I parked the car and this time actually got out. Unfortunately I locked the keys inside. I would be lying if I said I wasn't paniced. So... there I was with no choice but to go inside.
There was some ackwardness and intimidation involved in seeing people I hadn't been around in a year but overall it was good. In the end my sister was able to bring me extra keys and I'm pretty God had a nice chuckle.