An update on nursing school

In about thirty minutes I'll be hitting the road to head to my first "real" clinical experience as a nursing student.  We've spent our weekends up to this point either in the learning lab or at the nursing home.  Yesterday, we had orientation at the hospital.

Needless to say, I'm somewhat nervous. Nursing, at its core, is about caring for others.  I'm good at this core idea.  I have some practice.  So what makes me so nervous? Over the course of the summer I have tried to figure out what exactly about the clinical experience is causing such a visceral response and I think I've determined two factors.

First, I am completely inept when it comes to manipulating technology.  You all know this.  Our nursing instructor was reviewing the glucometer with us.  "It's simple.  It's easy" she kept repeating.  Um.  No.  Part of this ineptitude is that I need to actually see someone using it in real life on a real patient.  Then I need to practice it without the situation being a high-stakes one (the last thing I want to to do is make a patient/client feel worse).  But this is such a fast-paced program that we get introduced to the concept or technology, we may get a chance to practice on the dummies in the lab, but so far we haven't seen it done in real life.

Second, I don't feel comfortable in a nursing student role.  (Nursing diagnoses:  Ineffective role performance related to unfamiliarity with the hospital setting).  The question I have been asking myself is "what gives me the authority to just go ahead and __________?" (take vitals, listen to heart sounds, etc).  Piggy-backing on that is "my findings should definitely carry no weight when actually determining plans of care...I'm a nursing student for heaven's sake!"

So, we'll see how it goes today.  My mantra to get me through is "I can do anything for 8 hours!".   I also try to think about the worse possible case scenario...oh wait, I really don't want to think about that, because unlike in teaching, that scenario can be pretty bad.

Nursing at its core may be simple and intuitive.  But nursing school is certainly not.

Carrots and cats

First of all, a technology conundrum.  Blogger claims it is detecting an unsupported browser but I use Firefox 11.0 which Blogger says is compatible with my MacOS 10.7.4.  I will never be a tech guru, mostly due to the fact that I don't care that much.  But I do get frustrated by the increasing number of compatibility issues.  My cynical self says its all in the name of making money.  Along a similar vein, wanting to see the Olympics and not having a television I was hoping to view some of the events online.  Yes, you are able to do this, for FREE, as long as you are a regular TimeWarner subscriber. Fail.

But on to the more pressing issue of carrots.  I finally was able weed and thin our carrot bed this morning. It was long overdue.  Carrots don't really enjoy weeds (apparently the weeds really love the carrots), and they need to be spaced at least 1 to 2 inches from their nearest neighbor in order to thrive, but it is impossible to sow them this way (at least by hand).  Yes, this means a lot of really teeny-weeny carrots get composted, but I was able to pull out a couple dozen baby carrots which we will enjoy in salads or lightly steamed for the next week or so. 

 

For the first 10 years after their introduction, I thought the baby carrots one sees in the grocery store were actually just that.  Small carrots, pulled from the garden in the earlier part of the summer.  I was so dismayed to learn that the supermarket "baby carrots" are just cutouts from deformed mature carrots.   You can find the story of the manufactured baby carrot here (who knew that the U.K had a carrot museum!).  I suppose making "baby" carrots is better than throwing away tons and tons of imperfectly shaped, but perfectly edible carrots each year.  But I still won't buy them at the store because I feel like they have been overly processed.  This is not a particularly rational point of view, but I am the first to admit I am a bit of a local food snob.  

As far as our own baby carrots, they will probably be consumed in the next several days, but if not I will blanch, dice and freeze them to use later in the year for soups and casseroles.  

Finally, my darling husband took this picture of the laziest living things on our farm...the cats.  They may kill a mouse here or there but usually anybody visiting the farm can find them on this chair, lounging away, watching the world go by (or just completely comatose).  That's Leia looking up at the camera wondering who had the gall to wake her up from her nap.  Luke is in the middle and Chewbacca is determined not to show her face.

Bookstore as communication conduit

The set-up:

Anne from the bookstore calls about two weeks ago to let me know that Ariel (a poetry collection by Sylvia Plath) is in.  Apparently my darling husband had ordered it to use while writing his next novel.  I may or may not have told my darling husband of her call.

The aforementioned bookstore is 25 miles away, but in the same town as my nursing school and Bud's Tae-kwon-do classes.  There are plenty of opportunities to go and pick up the book.   There are also plenty of times to let my husband know that said book is in. And plenty of time for my husband to let me know that he did indeed pick up the book.

The scene:

I walk into the bookstore, and after perusing for a few moments (I didn't find anything that struck my fancy, but this is probably because my brain was so focused on school and became overwhelmed by the vast selection of interesting titles) I approached the sales counter. After exchanging pleasantries (I'm a familiar face in the shop)...

"I'm here to pick up a book, Ariel.  A book of poems" (I didn't know it was Plath at that time).

A slight pause by Meghan, one of the shopkeepers.  She glances over at Michelle, the owner.

"I don't think Tom picked it up, but he may have" I quickly add, in case there was some confusion. 

"No, it's up there, it's hardcover" Michelle says over her shoulder gesturing towards the reserved book section.

As Meghan hands me the book, I comment that sometimes my husband and I aren't the best with communicating these mundane details to one another.   Both women give a knowing laugh.  

"So now the bookstore is going to act as the medium for your communication! We'll just pass the messages between you two" Meghan exclaims. Then more seriously,  "If he comes in later, we'll let him know you picked it up." (Of course, if we were like the rest of the general populations, we would both have cell phones  smart phones and be able to text one another about these little items.  But, we are not the general population).

"That would be fabulous! Thanks."

Seriously, while we talk about the big things, my darling husband and I forget the little things.  The other night we thought the other person had let the mutt inside.  Nope.  She spent the night on the porch (although she didn't seem to be too bothered by it).  Then there's the communication that does occur, but follow-through is lacking.  It goes something like this:

"Honey, can you pick up some milk while you're out?"

"Sure."

30 minutes later...

"Did you get the milk?"

"Nope, I forgot!"

Which of course leads us to other establishments that act as communication mediums for us. The post office ("He already picked up the mail today") and the general store ("I just saw her when she came in to get the milk").  But I digress.

As I pay for the book, Meghan reminds me that I will get the 15% discount next time I come in (frequent buyers get frequent discounts). 

"But make sure you come in and spend it before he does!"

No worries.  I'll forget to tell him!