A Contouring Fail and Zip Line Zombies

The older I get, the more effort it takes to not look homeless.  Have you heard of contouring?  I just assumed it was a Kardashian trend, and while the magazined makeup results looked flawless and magical in Kardashianland, I was pretty certain that kind of stuff was completely unattainable for me.  However a friend of mine recently implemented and mastered the technique and she swore up and down that I could do it too.

This morning, bolstered by my friend’s success and confidence as well as a plethora of YouTube videos, I decided to give it a whirl.  It was magical alright, just not in the sunshine and rainbows kind of way. 

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Bucket Listing Perspective

The trials that face my mom, the uncertain future I have, all of the difficulties that are staring back at me each morning are heavy and deep.  It takes much effort to look past them, but when do, I can see a glimmer of something more, a sure sign that there’s more than just darkness there.  There is a great gift hidden inside every one of these trials. Inside each broken expectation, each piece of shattered heart is a new budding piece of me that I’m working to grow into.

Hardships unavoidably shape us and there is little we can do to stop it.  Even still, we are not helpless.  We can choose to find the gift wrapped in the darkness, and we can choose to be grateful for it, even before the light reveals it to us.  This tangible mortality that has settled around me recently is molding and reshaping me.  It’s making me softer, scrappier, stronger and less afraid.  I am more aware than ever before, that these are the moments that matter, and that awareness is one of the greatest gifts the darkness has given me.

I am, as you know, emotionally incontinent.  I feel things, so hard, and I’m absolutely terrible at hiding it. I’ve always wished I could smother that facet of me, but it remains a huge personality flaw, and often a source of embarrassment. In light of the trials my family is currently going through, the parts of me that I’ve never liked have lost some of their shameful potency.  Slowly I am learning how to embrace my special brand of awkward and lean in. If you also have awkward in you, well hello there friend, and welcome!  Let’s take a moment to let the weird wash over us.  #MouthBreathersUnite!

I am unapologetically moving forward despite my gaping flaws and vast inadequacies.  I read once that Japan has a special way of dealing with things that break.  I don’t know if you’ve ever broken a nice vase, accidentally or on purpose, (hey, I’m not here to judge), but if you’re like me, you swept up the broken pieces, sliced your paws open in the most inconvenient places, and threw out the now useless shards.  Not so in Japan.  The Japanese people repair cracked and broken pottery in the most astonishing way.  They fill the cracks and blemishes with gold and other precious metals.  They make the imperfections stand out, and shine, and the useless broken ceramic becomes something even more beautiful and valuable than the unblemished original.  It’s called Kintsugi, and the symbolism it evokes is profound and empowering.

I love the idea of bedazzling the imperfections.  I have decided to make use of it on my own broken bits.  When the awkward shatters my normal, and the shards of weird become brittle and break, I will fill those gaps of insecurity and self doubt with glitter, and put them on display here.  I will lay these things out in all their majestic awkwarness, and pray that God would see fit to sprinkle a bit of sparkle inside them.  Even bedazzled, I’ll be no less awkward and certainly no less strange, but I’m doing my best to melt into it purposefully now, embracing the story these imperfections tell.  They are the unique contours of my personality’s fingerprint.  I used to want to fit smoothly into the world, to fit in and be accepted as one of the Normals.  Not anymore.  Now I just want to leave a mark, something beautiful, lasting and meaningful that will continue to grow beyond myself and my short time here.

Bring on the glitter shrapnel!!!

I see flaws now for what that are: opportunities for growth.  My perspective has changed, and a prized awareness has been born of these difficult days.  That awareness is simultaneously frightening and exquisitely freeing to know that I fit, not because I am like everyone else, but because I am not. 

My nursing career has brought its own facets of awareness into my life.  I’m proud to be a nurse, and I want so badly to be good at it, great even.  I want to be an effective advocate and I desperately want to make a thoroughly meaningful difference for as many people as I can.  I work on an orthopedic surgery floor, and because of that I have a unique perspective on the spectrum of human reaction to the same obstacle.  I’ve seen certain surgeries performed countless times, on all manner of patients, locals and visitors, young and old, emergent or scheduled.   I have watched as a person’s attitude and determination or lack thereof, can completely change the trajectory of their recovery.  It doesn’t correlate with vast differences in age or privilege, but rather underscores the human capacity to choose and manipulate the attitude that we inhabit.  Seeing that, and knowing that we can harness this resource of mental fortitude within ourselves is completely empowering!  It pushes me to take responsibility for my own trajectory, and grow towards the end of the spectrum that I admire the most. 

One of the ways I’m accomplishing this growth is by changing my bucket list from a collection of wishes, into a set of actual plans.  I am bucket-listing,  not because I fear the future, but rather because I choose to embrace what I can hold and reach today in this moment, despite and even because of what tomorrow could  bring. 

I’ve recently discovered an untapped resource around me; a resource of people who will SAY YES.  My best friend told me that I’ve found my tribe, and I like to think she’s exactly right.  I have found a group of fearless nursey types who say yes to the most outrageously awesome ideas, and who aren’t at all afraid to make insanely epic plans with me.  Perhaps it’s our constant proximity to the edge of life or the shared raw knowledge of human fragility that causes these wonderful people to spontaneously and emphatically embrace the world with me.  Whatever it is, I’m grateful for it.  I am not alone.

The first plan to get checked off the bucket list was a helicopter ride.  With much anticipation and a fluttering gut, my friend and I strapped in for the ride of a lifetime, and what a view it was!  The tiny helicopter looked like a compact car with a foolish twirly hat.  Despite its flimsy appearance, the little copter took us out above the Gulf, where the clear blue waves sparkled their approval and a giant sea turtle bobbed a friendly greeting.  The fear stayed firmly on the ground and in the air was quicly replaced by an insatiable appetite to expand beyond the self-imposed boundaries that no longer seem necessary or appropriate.  And so I am growing, knocking down the things that hold me back one obstacle at a time, and there are plans for much more future cray.  Stay tuned!

Another plan on my list is to run a 5K!  I’ll wait while you pick yourself up off the floor.  I know.  It’s so far above my current ability, but that’s exactly what makes it worth doing.  It’s a color run too, so there’ll be lots of vibrant awesome to distract me from all the dying I’ll be doing.  For all my local readers, it’s a Color Vibe 5K and it will be in October.  You should come, if not to run alongside me, then to hurl color at me and all the other crazies who didn’t say no.  It’s an immense personal challenge for me, but I have other reasons to run. 

I will be running in support of my mom.  She’s shown so much strength and grace in the face of great challenges while waiting to find a kidney donor.  I will wear a Kidney for Kathy shirt to raise awareness for our need to find a donor and I will bring my two kids along to run with me so they might learn what it means and how it feels to work towards and accomplish impossible goals.  I’ll also wear a tutu.  Obviously, because how many times can a grown woman get away with wearing a tutu and a unicorn headband in real life?  Not many my friends.  This is happening.  So come out and watch!  I’m trying to recruit someone to wear one of those inflatable T-rex costumes, but so far there are no takers.  I’d do it myself, except TUTU! 

I’ve downloaded the Couch to 5K app to help me get started on this fitness journey.  Of all the tools I looked at, the C25K app seemed the most appropriate because let’s be clear: I’m full on couch mode right now, and based on the name, I feel like this app totally gets me.  I like that it provides me with an option of digital trainers who will coax or chase or yell at me while I run.  Here’s the best part: one of the trainer options is a UNICORN!!!  His name is Runicorn and I freaking love him.  It was between Runicorn and the undead zombie trainer that chases you.  I may switch back and forth, who knows.  I’ll post updates about my progress and we can all laugh at my pain together.  It’ll be fun!  For you I mean.  It’ll be fun for you.  For me it’ll be a painful part of my Kinsugi transformation.

Another plan from the bucket list that makes my heart wobble is a medical mission trip to Belize!  A nurse friend of mine invited me along, and I couldn’t think of any good reason not to embrace the opportunity.   Remember that tribe we were talking about?  Yeah.  They’re amazing!  I decided to say yes to this outrageous idea, and friend after fearless friend said yes as well.  The trip will be in November, and I will be raising funds to help cover the expense.  If you’re interested in supporting me, you can go to my GoFundMe page.  I will also be selling baked goods locally, as well as t-shirts in order to raise the necessary money.  I’ll post more about those things later.

I hope that my own polycystic kidneys hold out for many more years to come.  However, if they do not, I know which end of the spectrum I’m aiming for.  I choose to be that patient with the amazing stories of an exciting life well lived.  I choose to be the patient who smiles into the darkness without regret, having realized long ago what was truly important, and having made this journey accordingly, with unapologetic abandon.  If I ever find myself in that hospital bed, instead of beside it as I am now, I know I’ll be proud of these crazy moments, and the friends (that’s you) that I shared them with.

What a beautiful life this is, full of infinite possibilities limited solely by my capacity to say yes, and the extent to which I’m willing to chase down and conquer these brave wild wanderings.  A gift indeed, born of darkness. 

The Glittery Nurse

Kidney For Kathy: The Journey Begins

I’m paralyzed by the gravity of this topic.  I’ve started to share this a thousand times over the past six months but haven’t gotten past the first few lines.  I’m struggling to find the balance between hope and optimism, and the heaviness of this reality.  I’ve come at this from several different angles, and when I step too close to it, I start to swim in these torrents of fear and uncertainty, but when I don’t get close enough, it becomes understated and loses all urgency.  Today, I will try again.  Within this swirling storm of feelings, I need to get this out, in whatever way I can, despite all its twisted complexities.  So pull up a chair, my friends, and bring your favorite beverage.  We might be here awhile.  Down the rabbit hole we go!!!

My mom needs a kidney transplant.  She has Polycystic Kidney Disease, and it’s progressed to the point that her body is unable to function properly. 

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Stormy Thankfulness

On this day of thankfulness, I have plenty to appreciate. I can think of no better place to begin than this:

There’s a powerful force of good in my life, with blond hair, and a small quiet voice. She has other names, but I call her mom, and she wanders in and out of my chaotic world, draped in peaceful kindness and gentle understanding. She loves her family, especially her grandchildren, and she smiles thoughtfully at rainbows whenever they appear. When I think of her, I think of home, and all the many pieces of my early life that were strategically balanced, and prayerfully arranged, to raise me into today.

I don’t think of kidney disease when I think of my mom and I don’t think of kidney disease when I think of myself. It exists in us both, but only in the furthest silent background. We’ve known for some time about this PCKD that grows and gains, but we’ve never truly concerned ourselves with it, perhaps because my grandmother, who passed it on to us, lived without consequences from the disease, although she had battles of her own to fight. My mom, true to form, has worn this disease well, diligently learning about and caring for the condition. She’s otherwise healthy and for that I am deeply grateful.

I’m grateful for a great many things, in the mom department.   There’s a comfortable understanding between us, born from a lifetime of learning and loving each other, and we can talk and laugh about anything we please. We live within lunching distance of each other, and we shop together whenever schedules allow. My kids know her house and her heart as an extension of their own, and watching them interact brings sunshine into my soul. It’s not lost on me, how rare and beautiful these moments of real connection are. They are gems, truly, and I breathe them in, and tuck them away in my heart for keeps.

 

Lately there’s a cloud over us that threatens to bring a fog of change. My mom’s kidneys are in serious disrepair. We received the news not long ago that she needs a kidney transplant.

A Kidney Transplant

As so often happens in my emotionally incontinent life, the waves of wonderment and grateful upturned breaths, give way again to treacherous thunderings and overwhelming despair. They are two sides of the same coin and as such, they come together, or alone, but never without roots in each other. The fullness that comes from the blooming joy of friendship between my mother and I, leaves ample room for dreary darkness without it.  This strife and the sunshine it originates from cannot be substituted or avoided.  The pendulum swings from one to the other and I can only strive to find grace in the constant movement from extreme to opposite extreme.

We will face this new challenge as bravely as we can manage. Mom will undergo a slew of tests and procedures in late January to see if she’s a good candidate for transplant, and I will be there. She will start this journey toward renewal with all the encouragement and love we can gather for her, and this nursing degree of mine will have a bigger purpose than I ever expected.

Despite all the worry and uncertainty swirling around me, and perhaps partly because of it, I can see quite clearly the beautiful blessings in my life today. I’m off to visit my family, to share food and laughter with the people I love. I know that every person I encounter has their own trial to navigate, but today as we sit around bountiful tables, perhaps we can set those difficulties aside for a few sweet hours and just be. I will try to remember to look not at the mountain ahead, but into the eyes that smile back at me today. I hope each of you have a day filled with hugs and grateful beauty, and all the turkey gravy your belly can hold. We are so unbelievably blessed.

Love and Thankfulness,

The Glittery Nurse

Attack of the Milkshake Straw

Some days I’m absolutely certain I’m not up to the task of living the life set before me.  Just the other day I injured myself with a plastic straw.  In my defense, it was a stealth attack and it was no ordinary straw.  It was a milkshake sized straw, and it was swole.  It’s funny how I never sensed any danger from the cup holder in my car, and certainly not from the random drinking utensils it often contains.  That just goes to show you that you never know.  You really just never know.  I accidentally chunked out a sliver of arm fat while recklessly setting my elbow down on the arm rest of my car, and now I have a wound that is so uniquely me, I feel like they ought to name it after me.  How does one even explain such an injury? Answer: you don’t.  You hide that stuff because no one will ever believe you’re an actual adult if they know that straws can beat you up.  Shhhhhh!  This never happened.  Next subject!

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Dolphin versus Shark and other epic showdowns

I am more myself when I’m near big water.  There’s something about it that I understand and identify with on some underlying spiritual level.  I love sparkling reflections and I am endlessly fascinated by the way light moves through water in rhythmic soulful patterns.  The constant movement and seemingly directionless stirrings of the ocean exist simultaneously with mighty gravitational forces above and formidable currents within.  Sometimes I feel like there is fierceness in me than I can’t adequately translate, more power beneath the dark and brooding sloshing on the surface than I could ever harness.  It’s usually just the sparkling shallows that I open up and share with the world, the bits of me that are clear and gentle enough to be inviting and not intimidating. The shoreline is constantly rearranged, torn down, and reestablished by the vast unseen energy potentials.  The most consistent thing about the sea is that it’s constantly changing.  In the medical field we would call that consistently inconsistent, which is a completely stupid thing to call it and we should absolutely fix that weirdness.

Looking for a place to sit and write, I ended up in the corner of my old college library.  How strange to choose this place now, after all those years of wishing to be rid of it.  The view is unbeatable though, and I couldn’t come up with any good reason to avoid this place now that the pressures and deadlines are no longer attached to it.  It’s just an old backdrop to the future I now live.  I can see my past from here and that, along with the view of the bay make this one of the better choices I’ve made today.  Also there’s air conditioning.  I couldn’t hack it out in the sweltering beach sunshine today, even with the emerald waters calling to me.

My husband and I have gone and done something insane.  We’ve booked a cruise.  I’m outlandishly stoked, and equally terrified about this craziness.  I’ve never been on a cruise and although I’m undeniably connected to the water and the seas, I am not entirely okay with the idea of being miles or days away from the nearest shore.  That’s a giant commitment to watery awesomeness.  My husband, stud that he is, has never been a fan of heights and flying isn’t his idea of a good time, but that hasn’t stopped him from being the world’s best travel partner.  That crazy man of mine got on a plane for the first time in his life just to take me on an unforgettable honeymoon, and we’ve been plane hopping ever since to more destinations than I can count.  I guess I’ve always just assumed that if something went terribly wrong in a plane, the horror would be over in a matter of minutes.  However, if a boat goes down it could potentially take days for that terror to end and I’m just not built for that kind of horrific stamina.  All of that aside, I’m smashing through my comfort zones. I will face my fear of a slow and sharky death and hop onto that modern day Titanic.  Thank you, shark week, for the vivid reminder of all the hungry goblin-esque creatures that lurk in the depths. 

I wait anxiously for shark week all year long and then I watch ravenously from the corners of my squinted eyes and half turned head when the promised craziness ensues.  WHY do presumably intelligent people swim with the sharks? No seriously, WHY? They go out in their perfectly seaworthy boats, and then some genius decides it’s a great idea to put himself in a metal cage and get dunked in the shark buffet.  I will never understand this.  I will however watch it like a train wreck.  It is my version of a horror film.  I don’t do horror.  I can’t handle it at all.  Those terrifying snapshots of evil infiltrate my psyche like oil spilled in the ocean.  You may not see it all the time, but I promise you it turns up again and suffocates the awesome out of things.  So I abstain from chainsaw massacres and I shark week instead because while I can’t evade the rampant predatory psychosis that dwells in every layer of humanity, I can reasonably expect to protect myself against sharks by, oh I don’t know, NOT getting in the chummed up ocean with them.  I could also protect the dunces on the Discovery channel from getting eaten by sharks but they don’t seem to hear me when I bellow warnings and advice at the screen.   Stay in the boat, buddy.   Don’t get in that water!  Dude stay in the cage.  Seriously? Why would you get out of a perfectly good cage?!  Have you no respect for your digits and limbs? Back away from the giant vat of chum!    #baddecisions

Aside from all the always imminent gore, this year’s shark week included a show called Shark Versus Dolphin.  It was fantastical and full of bright and dark forces in a constant battle for dominance.  So who wins?  Plot twist/spoiler alert: Orcas!

There are nurses that fit the role of shark.  They’re the fiercely competent ones that get right in there, assess and attack the problem with instinct and skill until they shake the death right out of patients.  It happens quickly without any pretense or cutesy feels.  I’ve seen them do it and it’s amazing. I kind of want to be them.  Unfortunately, despite being staunchly Team Shark, (at least from a nursing standpoint), I’m afraid I’m much more Dolphiny in my own practices.  This is both awesome and inhibitory.

I want to be that kind smiley nurse who takes care of the little things that deeply matter to people and patients.  I’ve been a patient, and the things that made a lasting impact on me, that I remember and carry with me still, all these years later, were insignificantly small.  I remember the doctor who stopped everything to call my parents for me when I was scared and alone, the nurse who took that extra five minutes to add a humidifier to my O2 to make me more comfortable, the food service person who came down to the atrium when she found me away from my room.  She searched me out, not because that meal would be lifesaving, but because she cared, and that small gesture became part of my story, a piece of the cure.  It was the small things that made a difference for me, and when I think about the nurse I want to become, those little kindnesses are just as much a part of that as the fierce instincts and seasoned sharky confidence I admire so much.

It’s hard to juggle all those forces, but I know I want to try.  I will likely spend my entire career attempting to find the right balance between priority of acuity and equality of compassion.

It’s all about balance isn’t it?  I really want to eat rainbow chip icing by the spoonful, but I also really don’t want to be mistaken for a tasty rainbow chip whale should my cruise ship fail me.

Do you suppose sharks have cravings just like humans? One of the shark week shows called elephant seals a “highly caloric” meal for the shark.  Poor hangry sharks, they just want to get their snack on without being judged or gaining extra chins.  I feel you shark.  Elephant seals are the forbidden Cheetos of the ocean.  I bet you enjoy eating low calorie sardines about as much as I enjoy eating kale.  The struggle is real, my friend.  The struggle is real. 

In the words of my favorite animated fish,

“Just keep swimming.”  -Dory

The Glittery Nurse

Father’s Day

There are two people in my world that I recognize on Father’s Day, my dad for raising me, and my husband for raising my loves.  Let’s start at the beginning with my dad.

You have been a quiet compass in my life, always at the center of whatever trajectory I chose, pointing out into the darkness of the world as a lighthouse of possibility.  I see what my life could become because I have watched you build yours.  I know what kindness and love look like because I have seen you scatter it among strangers and people you knew couldn’t deserve or return it.  The way you have reinvented yourself, your life, your career, and continue to purposefully, painstakingly develop beyond your comfort zone, has opened up for me a bright window overlooking the infinite possibilities in my own future.  There are many small steps in my life that I’d have never had the inclination or courage to take, if it weren’t for your footprints so clearly there. 

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Nurse Life

I find myself in a whirlwind of novelty and overwhelming responsibility the likes of which only motherhood has rivaled.  I am a nurse.  Two tiny letters follow my signature around.  Two foundational pieces of a language that’s been in and around me every moment of my life, now placed triumphantly, reverently, behind my name with pride. RN.  I am no longer a student and no longer in training. I have no more qualifiers attached to the title perched on my shoulder, a badge in every sense of the word.

 It took a great deal to get here, but this is what I’ve worked for.  This is what I thought about for years while trudging through the formidable preparatory tasks and struggles on the path to this place and this career.  I clung to the idea of these moments, while pushing through those and the transformative power of simply moving forward, inch by priceless inch, has worked magic in my world, in my life, and on my perspective. I have been on the outskirts of this achievement for so long, looking in, trying to learn, feverishly preparing for what I saw coming, steeling myself for what I could not, and slowly, steadily pushing relentlessly forward. 

It’s inconceivably better and indescribably worse than I ever thought it would be. 

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Mom

Starting my day, in those early years, was not something I did alone. She was there. She went before me into those fresh new hours, praying and preparing the way. She worked and toiled in ways only mothers do, and softened the world with words and warmth that only mothers mean. I didn’t know back then, what a rare gem she was, because she was mine and as much a part of my life as the breathing and being that happened without my consideration.

She made hot breakfasts for my brother and I, and I can still smell them anytime I close my eyes and point my mind. I remember the birthday cakes and the back porch, the rope swing and the sound of that old piano. There were family dinners around a family table, and joyful notes floating up from an old silver radio.

I knew she loved me, truly, fully and forever, even in the turbulent beginnings. She did whatever it took, in every circumstance, to make sure I’d be okay.   She paved my life with goodness and with the will of her words, created so many things in me that I’ve yet to fully uncover.

I grew up and away and still she woke early, praying and paving, distance never deterring. When I came home from time to time, she patched my wounds and built me up and when I left once more she cheered me on through lonely proud tears. Somehow, slowly, as the raising and rising between us finished, something new and better began to take shape. As I became a woman, we two became friends, and what a lovely unexpected gift!

There were lunch dates, and shopping, and phone calls and fun. I found new comfort in her love once the fixing was finished and the seeing began.  I thought then, with a happy heart, that we were as close as we could be. I was wrong, in the most surprising and special way.

Slowly, suddenly and all at once my own daughter arrived. With a flutter of her lashes and a gentle rose petal sigh, she came into my life and rearranged the edges of my soul. Seeing her, gave the world new purpose, and me a new perspective on it. I felt for the first time, what was in my mother’s eyes, so true and deep and beyond my grasp until the world held within its fragile folds, children of my own.

I see your example and hear echoes of your kindness in these fresh early hours. I feel the weight that sat on your shoulders, and I know what your heart holds. I walk through these turbulent years with gratefulness and hope because you walk through them beside me. You still patch me up when I come around, and pave the way forward with wisdom and love. The mark you made, that you’re still making, created and then changed my outlook on life. I see the impact your quiet love has had, and I can think of no better gift to give to my own children.

Thank you, from the bottom of this grown child’s heart. I love you more than this one life could contain.

Your Daughter

The Glittery Nurse

Renovating Beliefs

An unimaginable tragedy crashed into my family recently and I watched from afar as the brokenness and pain drew my loved ones away from their differences and towards each other in a mutual search for some way, any way forward. All the struggles and difficulties in my life were suddenly white washed and insignificant as the horrific news reached me, and the truth of what’s important and real came so painfully into focus. I looked on in awe as my family members were lovingly embraced in a monumental way by, of all things, their church. They came together and stood taller because they were united. The beauty and strength I witnessed in that, was so large and so vivid that I immediately recognized its absence in my life, and it’s opened up something in me that I put aside long ago.

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