The gift unasked for

What makes a person want to die?

This feeling that everyone in your life would be better off without you - that there is nothing to look forward to, that you are too tired to go on, that life is cruel and exhausting, that there is no reason to continue to live - how do you come to this feeling, and then believe it, and finally invest in it, with aspirin and vodka, a razor, a gun to the head?

There are so many layers of self-preservation woven into the human fabric...and yet they are overridden by grief, distress, psychological disturbance, fear, despair...agents too potent at times for the weakened human condition.

What strikes me most, however, is how powerless I am in the face of the intensity of despair and depression felt by another. Preserved as I have been from these depths of suffering, I have no words to touch them, and my natural inclination to give advice is thwarted.

"Life is a gift". We did not ask for it, and yet here we are - manifestations of the mysterious creative energy of God. As such, we are keepers of a treasure not our own. I will show my love of God - by my love and care of what he has created: my life and the lives of others. Though it be laborious and excruciating, somehow He calls us to journey back to Him, bearing the life He gave us. For some, life is deep pain - and I can only imagine the courage and grace it takes them to face it, and the glory they give God in struggling through.

For those who take their lives into their own hands, Mother Church is yet a true Mother and intercessor for her children. "We should not despair of the eternal salvation of persons who have taken their own lives. By ways known to him alone, God can provide the opportunity for salutary repentance. The Church prays for persons who have taken their own lives." (CCC 2283)

Perhaps the question we should rather pose is this: What makes a person want to live.

St. Jude and St. Dymphna, pray for us.

Two heart caths and a book by it's cover

Got off work, where today I had the opportunity to observe two cardiac catheterizations. I was considering only observing one, but I'm so glad I stayed and watched two; the two cases were as different as night and day, just going to show you that something simple and routine can be very different the second time, because each patient is different.

The first patient was a man, mid forties, clearly a little jumpy, but in control of himself, nervously cracking jokes. He was a little spazzy and needed to be reminded to lie flat after the procedure (any lifting of the head or bending of the leg immediately afterward causes increased pressure in the groin, threatening to dislodge the collagen plug inserted into the femoral artery to block the hole made by the catheter) - but on the whole, he was great. His cath was negative, as well, meaning there were no occlusions or problematic narrowings of the coronary arteries. The answer to what's causing his intermittent chest pain must be sought elsewhere.

The second patient was a different story. Her family sat surrounding her in the preoperative room, and when we came to take her into the cath lab, she began loudly insisting "No! You're going to put me out, right? I don't want to leave this room conscious!" She was 79, one of those ladies who screams in protest if you so much as press on her firmly (feeling for her femoral pulse was a trip). She didn't want to see anything in the procedure room, so we covered her eyes with a towel. The doctor also had an unusually difficult time finding the artery with his needle, which he puts into the artery in order to place the guide wire, and then advance the catheter. He ended up needing to use what is called a "smart needle" - it uses doppler to give the physician an audible idea of where the needle is in relation to the rhythmic swooshing of blood through the artery, helping him locate it more easily. Even with the aid of the smart needle, the woman's vasculature was located so deep that he had to probe quite a bit. The complicating factor here, I believe, was that she was quite a bit overweight. The doppler made sounds like the doc was navigating a windswept, frozen mountain peak in Greenland or something. Anyway, eventually he got to where he was going. This patient's heart cath revealed a partially occluded right descending coronary artery.

It was a nice plus that I was with some OR nurses who really liked to teach, and were great about it. Especially Brice. At first impression, I was like, greeeaaat....this guy won't even make eye contact with me, I know I'm a lowly student, but you don't have to be such a stiff about it...lol my preceptor dubbed him "Mr. Evil Hottness" because he is really quite good-looking, and young. BUT, hooray, he ended up explaining like EVERYTHING about the heart cath to me of his own accord, and really involving me in what was going on. So it was sweet. The end.

Well, speaking of the moon...

So today, Rachel and I took Joseph and Peter to see Monsters vs. Aliens at the dollar theater (I love dollar theaters). They liked it well enough...I loved hearing them giggle during the film, usually when there was some kind of comic injury or other gag...it's just so adorable. We went out to eat afterwards, and then got ice cream at one of those great mom and pop homemade ice cream places. We sat outside the shop at a picnic table and enjoyed the warm evening air while savoring our confections...Rachel a strawberry sundae, myself a small vanilla cone, and the boys wielding great, mountainous medium vanilla cones. Two other families with little children were enjoying treats outside as well, and our conversation was light and everything pleasant pretty much! Now, the ice cream stand is located on a fairly busy two-lane country road, which I was seated facing. Three high school-age boys came, riding their bikes past lazily, laughing and talking to each other like they were just that cool, you know? I was idly licking my cone and observing them ride by. They were nearly past. The last fellow was standing up to pedal, and I noticed, well, that he had some crack going on above his oh-so-cool really baggy jeans and ineffectual belt. I laughed to myself and said half aloud, "Hey, that kid better be careful, or -- oh my GOSH, that kid's BUTT is totally hanging out!!"

Of course, everyone looks.... Peter and Joseph see their first public mooning (albeit accidental mooning, thank God).... what can I say, I was so surprised by my prediction coming true before my very eyes that I just announced it to the world without thinking.....yeeeeeahh.

But man, you shoulda been there to see how Pete and Joe cracked up. Sorry, boys.

Blame it on the moon...

This is my first post about my summer job. I am working as a nurse extern at a hospital; overall, I am learning a lot and getting good experience. So it's really kind of an inaccurate depiction of things that the first time I would write about it would be after an absolutely insane day.

For the first time I saw a man die. They called a code and were starting to pull out the code cart when his nurse was like "no, no, he's a DNR" - and his chart was checked, and indeed he was. A young woman just down the hall began to sob, loud and scared - she had just gone for some ice water or something down the hall, stepped out of his room for a minute, and he had coded while she was gone. His heart on the monitor was a confusion of jagged, irregular, tight spikes, and his face graying, jaw set, contorted as though with effort. The hall was filling with staff, responding to the overhead call. They were told the patient was DNR, would turn away with a look of sad resignation.

It is an odd feeling to look upon someone who is arresting, and to do nothing. To watch someone who is alive become someone who is not.

But it was best not to stand by in the hall idly gawking (which is how I felt...gawking) while the family stood, shocked and grieved, awkwardly in the hall, as though too terrified to go into the room. You know they hadn't thought it would be this soon. So I tried to move on to my other duties quickly.

A lot of other things happened...it was just a completely nuts day....one patient fell and got a bloody nose, as well as a nice laceration to the forehead. He went down for some diagnostic testing to see how badly he had been hurt; turns out he is fine, and just will have a black eye for awhile, as well as some steri-strips to approximate the wound on his forehead. Another patient accidentally pulled a jackson-pratt drain out of his bandaged foot. Then there were four or five patients over the course of the day whose IVs went bad, either because they had pulled them out, or they had begun infiltrating. One woman's IV came out almost inexplicably. She was a patient who required a sitter, and I was sitting beside her in a chair, when her hand began to drip copious amounts of blood. Her IV, swathed in curlex and tape to prevent her from pulling it out, had somehow dislodged. Seriously this woman was sitting perfectly still. The inordinate amount of bleeding was due to the fact that she was on heparin therapy for multiple blood clots in her legs. You have never seen blood leak out of someone so fast as a patient who is on heparin. It took ten minutes of pressure to her hand to stop the bleeding, while my preceptor established another IV.

But there really were some lovely patients today as well. As some of you may know, "my song" is Simon and Garfunkle's "Cecilia" - a catchy ditty totally sketch verses. A lot of people start singing it when they meet me (seriously). So anyway, some of these old-timers, the 85+ crowd, is doing the same thing - except with a different song. "Whispering" Jack Smith (ok?) had a minor hit in 1925 with a song called "Cecilia, Does Your Mother Know You're Out?" (rerecorded in the 60's by Tony Randall), and these old ladies sing it to me!

Does your mother know you're out? Cecilia,
Does she know I'm about to steal ya?
Oh my when I look into your eyes,
Something tells me You and I should get together
How's about a little kiss, Cecilia
Just a kiss you'll never miss, Cecilia
Why do we two keep on wasting time
Oh, Cecilia say that you'll be mine.

You've got to admit...much sweeter than Simon and Garfunkle's iffy sketch girl.

"Rather than for happiness, strive for peace"

I went to see a priest today, the weekend associate at my parish here at home. I had felt for awhile that I really wanted to talk to him for more than just the usual "hello" after Mass. He's a very intellectual man, incredibly well read, amazingly intelligent, very accomplished, while also being so accessible and just a genuinely good person. When he walked me into his office, I couldn't help but smile - it was perfect for him. Three ceiling-high bookcases lined the left wall, filled with spiritual reading and philosophical texts, as well as a few great literary works (I think I spied some Dostoyevsky). The room was impeccably neat - desk against the window wall, blinds open to let in the afternoon light, and a few pictures here and there, one of himself in his clerical garb holding a squirming, laughing baby. Three beautifully lush, green plants sat atop the third bookcase, spilling their trailing foliage down into the lower shelves. Coupled with the presence of this priest whom I admired and respected so much, it was the most calming and peaceful environment.

We talked for over an hour, and I really just let out whatever came to my mind. Sometimes just hearing myself talk helps me to figure out what's up with me or what I should do - and his wise interjections, wisdom, and third party perspective helped me tremendously. I came to the conclusion that I'm pretty impatient...and anxious that my own concupiscence will cause me to miss God's call for me. I want so much to really love Him, to not get caught up in the things that do not last, to return to Him His great love for me. And deep down I know the answers to all my worries. I really am a laid-back, roll with the punches kind of person - I just don't like uncertainties...where I'm supposed to go, what I'm supposed to do next. Ultimately I know these things will take care of themselves and that God's hand will be in it! But speaking with Father helped reassure and remind me once again of all that.

Here's a fun little fact that I found out from him. If you look at the San Damiano cross closely, you can see that Christ is depicted smiling - it is a little obscured by his moustache, but the corners of His mouth clearly curve up. Father showed me this on his cross when we were speaking about happiness and peace. "Rather than for happiness, strive for peace" - Christ was certainly suffering on the cross, and wasn't exactly what we would call 'happy' - but as Father said, if we could call a "time-out" on the crucifixion and ask Jesus if there was anywhere else He would rather be at that moment, he would say 'No' - because of his love for me. He would be at peace. Suffering and what we think of as 'happiness' may be incompatible, but suffering and peace are not.

Today, thank God for priests - say a quick prayer for them in their ministry to all of us.

Hi, Hi There

So a long time ago I had one of these things. (A long time in this case = about two years.)

A blog.

Remember xanga? Yeah! That was fun. And then happened this wonderful glowing revelation known as Facebook - thank you Mark - at which point many people seemed to become more interested in keeping in touch via little wall posts and stuff. I like fb a lot, but "notes" just aren't as homey as a blog, and well, i think it's time.