My dearest Nora, wherever thou mayst roam,
I've just returned from taking part in the first of two weddings in the span of a month in which I play some role...other than groom. It's that detail that's got me down.
The wedding was nice, and I was in top form. Too bad my charm was wasted on a bunch of women who were 20+ years my senior or were otherwise involved. The realisation struck me in the shower before the big event that there might just be some lovely young women with whom I could become acquainted. Sure put a spring in my step. Oh well. Maybe at the next one.
So tired of being lonely.
May the grace of He keep you always,
J.O. Morris
Saturday, July 24, 2010
Monday, July 19, 2010
Trudging along
My dearest Nora, wherever thou mayst roam,
It occurred to me over the weekend that my recent performance problems at Big City Hospital are to do with the volume of stress currently circulating in my life. I've put in for some time off, citing a need to revise for finals...which certainly is true. That's stressor #1, I reckon. I must make a score of 87 or higher to earn an A for the class...an A I so desperately desire.
Stressor #2: The project I've been overseeing for months is just about to fail. I've known it was going to happen for some time, but stayed optimistic. Our deadline is about to arrive and we have some major pieces missing. I feel like a lot of it is my fault. However, I think that I've done rather well considering the amount of leadership experience of this magnitude that I've had going into the project (none). In the coming weeks, I'm going to have to make a phone call that will make me feel three feet tall.
Stressor #3: The flat is a complete disaster. Party Boy is the individual responsible, as always...but he's outdone himself. Photographic evidence shall appear in the coming days on Living With Pigs. Let us all take a moment to pray that it will be the final update on that blog.
The rest are hardly worth mentioning.
I set my mind on sorting myself out after realising what was going wrong. Bright and early this morning I set aside half an hour for rigourous exercise. Pencilling in another half an hour later today, and continuing the trend indefinitely. Surely, the lack of exercise recently has been a major factor in my poor performance in almost all important areas of my life.
Furthermore, my diet is undergoing some changes as well. For the longest, I was the healthiest eater you'd ever want to come across. Sometime during the spring term, odd bits and pieces of junk food seeped into my diet, mainly for their convenience. Increasingly, I turned to these items without paying it much mind. At the grocer's Friday, I noticed my cart contained two bags of chips, two boxes of high-fat cookies, frozen dinners (Kashi, but still...), etc. I put most of it back and shopped like I used to. Fresh meats, vegetables, and fruits, whole wheat bread, and so on. Three days it's been now that I've reformed my diet, and I'm already feeling a bit better. Could just be a mental thing. Doesn't much matter!
Party Boy II, who I'd given a nicer nickname (now forgotten), moved out over the weekend. As the date approached, I thought how funny it was that I was sad to see him go. This time one year ago, I was dreading living with him. He was wild and out of control, at least according the the accounts of his nights posted on a social networking site. When I moved in, he lived up to the reputation for the majority of the autumn term. However, he got quite serious with a young lady and that mellowed him right out. He's still with her and whereas once he was an irresponsible party machine, he's now a focused, serious student who knows precisely where he wants to go. So glad to see that transformation. He's a good kid and I hope that he achieves all that he desires and more.
Still not sure how I'm feeling about a career in medicine. Really not thinking much about it...I'm going to wait until the fog I'm in blows over and go from there.
May the grace of He keep you always,
J.O. Morris
It occurred to me over the weekend that my recent performance problems at Big City Hospital are to do with the volume of stress currently circulating in my life. I've put in for some time off, citing a need to revise for finals...which certainly is true. That's stressor #1, I reckon. I must make a score of 87 or higher to earn an A for the class...an A I so desperately desire.
Stressor #2: The project I've been overseeing for months is just about to fail. I've known it was going to happen for some time, but stayed optimistic. Our deadline is about to arrive and we have some major pieces missing. I feel like a lot of it is my fault. However, I think that I've done rather well considering the amount of leadership experience of this magnitude that I've had going into the project (none). In the coming weeks, I'm going to have to make a phone call that will make me feel three feet tall.
Stressor #3: The flat is a complete disaster. Party Boy is the individual responsible, as always...but he's outdone himself. Photographic evidence shall appear in the coming days on Living With Pigs. Let us all take a moment to pray that it will be the final update on that blog.
The rest are hardly worth mentioning.
I set my mind on sorting myself out after realising what was going wrong. Bright and early this morning I set aside half an hour for rigourous exercise. Pencilling in another half an hour later today, and continuing the trend indefinitely. Surely, the lack of exercise recently has been a major factor in my poor performance in almost all important areas of my life.
Furthermore, my diet is undergoing some changes as well. For the longest, I was the healthiest eater you'd ever want to come across. Sometime during the spring term, odd bits and pieces of junk food seeped into my diet, mainly for their convenience. Increasingly, I turned to these items without paying it much mind. At the grocer's Friday, I noticed my cart contained two bags of chips, two boxes of high-fat cookies, frozen dinners (Kashi, but still...), etc. I put most of it back and shopped like I used to. Fresh meats, vegetables, and fruits, whole wheat bread, and so on. Three days it's been now that I've reformed my diet, and I'm already feeling a bit better. Could just be a mental thing. Doesn't much matter!
Party Boy II, who I'd given a nicer nickname (now forgotten), moved out over the weekend. As the date approached, I thought how funny it was that I was sad to see him go. This time one year ago, I was dreading living with him. He was wild and out of control, at least according the the accounts of his nights posted on a social networking site. When I moved in, he lived up to the reputation for the majority of the autumn term. However, he got quite serious with a young lady and that mellowed him right out. He's still with her and whereas once he was an irresponsible party machine, he's now a focused, serious student who knows precisely where he wants to go. So glad to see that transformation. He's a good kid and I hope that he achieves all that he desires and more.
Still not sure how I'm feeling about a career in medicine. Really not thinking much about it...I'm going to wait until the fog I'm in blows over and go from there.
May the grace of He keep you always,
J.O. Morris
Sunday, July 11, 2010
I don't know
The last couple of times in Big City Hospital were neutral, by way of two extremes: Completely terrible and completely amazing.
The completely terrible part has to do with my interactions with the nursing staff primarily. My mental game was completely off. Someone would phone and as I was telling whomever needed to take the call what the issue was and who was on the other line, my brain took off on holiday. What the hell do I mean I can't remember who is on the line!? They just told me less than a minute ago! I also had trouble with keeping phone numbers straight. Don't know how many times I rang up the wrong person.
I felt completely useless and incompetent. The ward clerk, who I'm not entirely certain ever cared much for me to begin with, really seemed to be raising an eyebrow at me. The harder I tried to get back into things, the worse everything got. It's such an indescribably frustrating feeling, especially for me. I hold myself to an enormously high standard of quality, and I know that no one can be 100% all the time, but I settle for nothing less from myself.
During my last shift, I got really down on myself...the worst thing in the world to do, I know. When I was telling people about myself and that I want to one day become a doctor, I had to cringe when I saw their expressions.
On the upside, however, I had nothing but lovely patients all week. Not a solitary problem out of any of them. They were all gracious and personable and almost all were with me in laughter. There was one family in particular who I couldn't tear myself away from. The mother was in for altered mental status and her children, grandchildren, brothers, sisters, nieces, nephews, and even neighbours were there from the start of visiting hours until the end. Fantastic support and love. It was beautiful.
They were all very scientific in their career paths, as well, which was just a joy to speak to them about. Highly, highly intelligent people. Usually when I speak to such individuals, I'm intimidated...but not this time, even in light of my performance on the administrative end of things. We discussed film, literature, philosophy, religion, and tons about the physical sciences. Every last one of them were extremely supportive and encouraging to me over my educational goals, which meant more at those moments than they could ever possibly know.
In the middle of the week, at the tail end of my shift, a stunning middle-aged lady (and I do indeed mean lady) stopped me in the hall and requested assistance finding a particular room. Turns out she was in the wrong wing. The important part here, though, is that as she spoke, I noticed something very familiar in her accent. She comes from an area in which I have strong family ties and spent the majority of my early years. I told her about this and she found it extraordinary. What are the odds? I escorted her to the appropriate area just to keep speaking with her. Haha, found myself wishing that she were maybe 15 years younger... or that I was 15 years older. My, my.
So, at the end of my last shift this week (my least competent day in dealing with the back-end stuff), two or three visitors from various rooms came by the nursing station on their way out and thanked me for spending time with them and so on. It was a bit embarrassing, but as I was driving home, I felt glad for it, if for no other reason than to prove to the ward clerk and such that I'm not completely incompetent and idiotic. Ha.
I've begun seriously analysing whether or not medicine is the right path. I feel like I know it is, but when I have days...several days in a row...like I had, I really, really wonder. I've been giving serious thought to working for Make A Wish instead...still get to help people, and get to do even more of the part I love: making a real connection with people and making them happy.
I don't know what to do. I just don't know.
The completely terrible part has to do with my interactions with the nursing staff primarily. My mental game was completely off. Someone would phone and as I was telling whomever needed to take the call what the issue was and who was on the other line, my brain took off on holiday. What the hell do I mean I can't remember who is on the line!? They just told me less than a minute ago! I also had trouble with keeping phone numbers straight. Don't know how many times I rang up the wrong person.
I felt completely useless and incompetent. The ward clerk, who I'm not entirely certain ever cared much for me to begin with, really seemed to be raising an eyebrow at me. The harder I tried to get back into things, the worse everything got. It's such an indescribably frustrating feeling, especially for me. I hold myself to an enormously high standard of quality, and I know that no one can be 100% all the time, but I settle for nothing less from myself.
During my last shift, I got really down on myself...the worst thing in the world to do, I know. When I was telling people about myself and that I want to one day become a doctor, I had to cringe when I saw their expressions.
On the upside, however, I had nothing but lovely patients all week. Not a solitary problem out of any of them. They were all gracious and personable and almost all were with me in laughter. There was one family in particular who I couldn't tear myself away from. The mother was in for altered mental status and her children, grandchildren, brothers, sisters, nieces, nephews, and even neighbours were there from the start of visiting hours until the end. Fantastic support and love. It was beautiful.
They were all very scientific in their career paths, as well, which was just a joy to speak to them about. Highly, highly intelligent people. Usually when I speak to such individuals, I'm intimidated...but not this time, even in light of my performance on the administrative end of things. We discussed film, literature, philosophy, religion, and tons about the physical sciences. Every last one of them were extremely supportive and encouraging to me over my educational goals, which meant more at those moments than they could ever possibly know.
In the middle of the week, at the tail end of my shift, a stunning middle-aged lady (and I do indeed mean lady) stopped me in the hall and requested assistance finding a particular room. Turns out she was in the wrong wing. The important part here, though, is that as she spoke, I noticed something very familiar in her accent. She comes from an area in which I have strong family ties and spent the majority of my early years. I told her about this and she found it extraordinary. What are the odds? I escorted her to the appropriate area just to keep speaking with her. Haha, found myself wishing that she were maybe 15 years younger... or that I was 15 years older. My, my.
So, at the end of my last shift this week (my least competent day in dealing with the back-end stuff), two or three visitors from various rooms came by the nursing station on their way out and thanked me for spending time with them and so on. It was a bit embarrassing, but as I was driving home, I felt glad for it, if for no other reason than to prove to the ward clerk and such that I'm not completely incompetent and idiotic. Ha.
I've begun seriously analysing whether or not medicine is the right path. I feel like I know it is, but when I have days...several days in a row...like I had, I really, really wonder. I've been giving serious thought to working for Make A Wish instead...still get to help people, and get to do even more of the part I love: making a real connection with people and making them happy.
I don't know what to do. I just don't know.
Tuesday, July 6, 2010
Burn-out
Having some serious doubts about the project I'm overseeing. It's now just under a month before our first major deadline, and we are dreadfully short of our goal.
I organised a fundraising event the other day. Several of my committee members had other obligations and were unable to attend. Fair enough. Three of them said they might turn up (might as well've said no), and the remaining three said they would be there.
Some of the materials needed were supposed to be delivered at a set time before the event began. The individual in charge of turning up with these things holds a high-ranking position in our parent organisation, known for trustworthiness, promptness, and all of those lovely characteristics.
None of those were displayed in our interaction when they turned up nearly 90 minutes late. To make matters worse, only half of the items we needed showed up.
Hmm.
By this point, I was already a bit hot under the collar due to the fact that none of the folks who'd said they'd be there bothered to show up. There I was, on my own...well, just me and our guest. Beautiful.
Things went as smoothly as they could've gone with me running the entire show. It was incredibly stressful, irritating, and depressing.
With half an hour remaining in the event, in came strolling one of the committee members with whom I'd previously placed an immense amount of trust, and on whom I knew I could always depend. There was a brief, insincere apology. To their credit, they did step up and did their fair share after arriving.
There were some other horrors and blood pressure-elevating moments before all of this even, but the details are too intricate and frustrating to relay. Just know that I spent most of the day telling myself that that was it, that I was throwing in the towel, and that the whole damned thing was a foolish idea in the first place.
Still kind of feel that way, but as I'm settling in for bed this evening, I'm seeing things from a different perspective. Seems as though I've lost sight of the goal; why I started all of this in the first place. I can't wait to really get started with this! turned into I can't wait until this is over! in the last four months, and I'm kind of ashamed.
...and scared.
I wonder if I'll one day feel the same about medicine. A lot of people seem to end up feeling that way at one point or another, at least according to the med blogs I read. I suppose it's normal. I can't help but wonder if it might also be dangerous, however. I don't think I could ever forgive myself for a bad mistake with a patient whilst in a moment of internal selfishness. Selfishness is not a game I like to play.
So, onward and upward we go.
I organised a fundraising event the other day. Several of my committee members had other obligations and were unable to attend. Fair enough. Three of them said they might turn up (might as well've said no), and the remaining three said they would be there.
Some of the materials needed were supposed to be delivered at a set time before the event began. The individual in charge of turning up with these things holds a high-ranking position in our parent organisation, known for trustworthiness, promptness, and all of those lovely characteristics.
None of those were displayed in our interaction when they turned up nearly 90 minutes late. To make matters worse, only half of the items we needed showed up.
Hmm.
By this point, I was already a bit hot under the collar due to the fact that none of the folks who'd said they'd be there bothered to show up. There I was, on my own...well, just me and our guest. Beautiful.
Things went as smoothly as they could've gone with me running the entire show. It was incredibly stressful, irritating, and depressing.
With half an hour remaining in the event, in came strolling one of the committee members with whom I'd previously placed an immense amount of trust, and on whom I knew I could always depend. There was a brief, insincere apology. To their credit, they did step up and did their fair share after arriving.
There were some other horrors and blood pressure-elevating moments before all of this even, but the details are too intricate and frustrating to relay. Just know that I spent most of the day telling myself that that was it, that I was throwing in the towel, and that the whole damned thing was a foolish idea in the first place.
Still kind of feel that way, but as I'm settling in for bed this evening, I'm seeing things from a different perspective. Seems as though I've lost sight of the goal; why I started all of this in the first place. I can't wait to really get started with this! turned into I can't wait until this is over! in the last four months, and I'm kind of ashamed.
...and scared.
I wonder if I'll one day feel the same about medicine. A lot of people seem to end up feeling that way at one point or another, at least according to the med blogs I read. I suppose it's normal. I can't help but wonder if it might also be dangerous, however. I don't think I could ever forgive myself for a bad mistake with a patient whilst in a moment of internal selfishness. Selfishness is not a game I like to play.
So, onward and upward we go.
Sunday, July 4, 2010
I'm mad about you, baby. Yeaaah, yeah! I'm mad about you!
My dearest Nora, wherever thou mayst roam,
Today has brought many delights, a few of which I will discuss in light detail.
My urge to visit the driving range was strong, but the rain just wouldn't allow for it. Just as well, as I had some studying that needed doing. The heavy rain, on and off, was a relaxing backdrop. Peaceful.
Justin Rose won another PGA Tour event. Go England.
Saw the last twenty minutes of Germany vs. Argentina. Some of the most exciting football I've seen in ages. I was really getting into it.
US vs. Algeria has had some moments. 89 minutes have passed... 0-0. I think they got robbed of a goal in a few of the opening minutes, but I was off to the refrigerator to snatch up a beer. ... WHOA!!! US just scored a goal in extra minutes!!!! That was out of nowhere!! Brilliant!
As I was saying, I didn't see the whole play, but it sure looked like the goal was good. Doesn't much matter, because we won it with that goal. Whew.
Spent some time with Old Flame and her fiance recently. Awkward for the first half an hour, but a pretty enjoyable experience for the remainder of the evening. She was a bit bossy and I was glad to not be on the receiving end of that. Her family was wrapped up in its usual craziness, and I was glad to be able to sit back and not feel compelled to be actively involved. As much as I still love her, and suspect I always will, the book is becoming easier to close.
Received season four of Mad About You on DVD yesterday and had some time to catch an episode or two earlier in the day. I love that show dearly. First started watching it in 1995...saw a rerun late one school night and, as a young man of 13 years, took quite a liking to Ms. Helen Hunt. Oh. My. After about the fourth or fifth episode I saw, I took notice of the other entertainment opportunities the half-hour programme presented.
The mid-90s were an amazing time for me. Computers were quickly coming into peoples' homes, the Internet let you see websites built by people from all around the world (just imagine!!)...it was an exciting time, and I got the feeling of genuine good times in the United States. A good welcome! It was like a giant party. Really, a saxophone-playing president? Awesome! Oh, and cordless phones were such a novel thing to me. I'm still impressed by them, even with my familiarity with the iPhone. Haven't quite gotten to letting that one soak in yet. Might be a while.
Anyhow, Paul and Jamie Buchman represented everything I wanted. Great, loving relationship, nice apartment in a hip, swingin' city, laptop computers, cordless phones, an adorable dog... Ha. They had a certain kind of freedom that I was so envious of, being an enslaved student and everything. I used to read the USA Today at school in the mornings and just marvel at the world carrying on around me. I wanted a chunk of the experience, instead of sitting around cooped up and generally wasting time. Out there, I knew there were real-life Buchmans living a similar life. I wanted to find them. I wanted to find the real, honest American dream. Haha.
So, watching the programme necessarily brings back a lot of things from back then. Thoughts about past relationships entered and exited my mind. I was reminded how much Old Flame looks like Helen Hunt, and was a bit weirded out...maybe as a defense mechanism. Ha.
Then, I got to thinking about marriage and children.
I've made no effort to hide my desire for marriage, and possibly children, in these letters. Tonight, though, as I was thinking about things with The Nurse, with the Cute Shy Girl in my lab, with Ms. Edinburgh, etc., I began to wonder if I'd be missing out on the moment I was having just then if I'd been attached. Surely, I'd have been dragged off to see fireworks...not too terribly interested in them these days, to be honest. I'd rather stay indoors with the air conditioning. I checked Facebook during halftime and saw a post from a good friend about some event later this week. She was trying to recruit some lady unknown to me to go with her, but the woman had to reply in the negative, citing children as the reason. I felt glad that I didn't have to think about that; that I could get up right now and drive for 14 hours in any direction if I felt like it, and on a moment's notice.
...probably a temporary sense of freedom. I'm sure I'd rather have the love a good woman. Sure of it.
=)
Rather than ramble some more, I think I'll enjoy the last few hours of the obligation-free portion of my weekend...by looking at websites created by people from all sorts of countries. heh.
May the grace of He keep you always,
J.O. Morris
Today has brought many delights, a few of which I will discuss in light detail.
My urge to visit the driving range was strong, but the rain just wouldn't allow for it. Just as well, as I had some studying that needed doing. The heavy rain, on and off, was a relaxing backdrop. Peaceful.
Justin Rose won another PGA Tour event. Go England.
Saw the last twenty minutes of Germany vs. Argentina. Some of the most exciting football I've seen in ages. I was really getting into it.
US vs. Algeria has had some moments. 89 minutes have passed... 0-0. I think they got robbed of a goal in a few of the opening minutes, but I was off to the refrigerator to snatch up a beer. ... WHOA!!! US just scored a goal in extra minutes!!!! That was out of nowhere!! Brilliant!
As I was saying, I didn't see the whole play, but it sure looked like the goal was good. Doesn't much matter, because we won it with that goal. Whew.
Spent some time with Old Flame and her fiance recently. Awkward for the first half an hour, but a pretty enjoyable experience for the remainder of the evening. She was a bit bossy and I was glad to not be on the receiving end of that. Her family was wrapped up in its usual craziness, and I was glad to be able to sit back and not feel compelled to be actively involved. As much as I still love her, and suspect I always will, the book is becoming easier to close.
Received season four of Mad About You on DVD yesterday and had some time to catch an episode or two earlier in the day. I love that show dearly. First started watching it in 1995...saw a rerun late one school night and, as a young man of 13 years, took quite a liking to Ms. Helen Hunt. Oh. My. After about the fourth or fifth episode I saw, I took notice of the other entertainment opportunities the half-hour programme presented.
The mid-90s were an amazing time for me. Computers were quickly coming into peoples' homes, the Internet let you see websites built by people from all around the world (just imagine!!)...it was an exciting time, and I got the feeling of genuine good times in the United States. A good welcome! It was like a giant party. Really, a saxophone-playing president? Awesome! Oh, and cordless phones were such a novel thing to me. I'm still impressed by them, even with my familiarity with the iPhone. Haven't quite gotten to letting that one soak in yet. Might be a while.
Anyhow, Paul and Jamie Buchman represented everything I wanted. Great, loving relationship, nice apartment in a hip, swingin' city, laptop computers, cordless phones, an adorable dog... Ha. They had a certain kind of freedom that I was so envious of, being an enslaved student and everything. I used to read the USA Today at school in the mornings and just marvel at the world carrying on around me. I wanted a chunk of the experience, instead of sitting around cooped up and generally wasting time. Out there, I knew there were real-life Buchmans living a similar life. I wanted to find them. I wanted to find the real, honest American dream. Haha.
So, watching the programme necessarily brings back a lot of things from back then. Thoughts about past relationships entered and exited my mind. I was reminded how much Old Flame looks like Helen Hunt, and was a bit weirded out...maybe as a defense mechanism. Ha.
Then, I got to thinking about marriage and children.
I've made no effort to hide my desire for marriage, and possibly children, in these letters. Tonight, though, as I was thinking about things with The Nurse, with the Cute Shy Girl in my lab, with Ms. Edinburgh, etc., I began to wonder if I'd be missing out on the moment I was having just then if I'd been attached. Surely, I'd have been dragged off to see fireworks...not too terribly interested in them these days, to be honest. I'd rather stay indoors with the air conditioning. I checked Facebook during halftime and saw a post from a good friend about some event later this week. She was trying to recruit some lady unknown to me to go with her, but the woman had to reply in the negative, citing children as the reason. I felt glad that I didn't have to think about that; that I could get up right now and drive for 14 hours in any direction if I felt like it, and on a moment's notice.
...probably a temporary sense of freedom. I'm sure I'd rather have the love a good woman. Sure of it.
=)
Rather than ramble some more, I think I'll enjoy the last few hours of the obligation-free portion of my weekend...by looking at websites created by people from all sorts of countries. heh.
May the grace of He keep you always,
J.O. Morris
Monday, June 28, 2010
Ms. Edinburgh, Mr. Houdini, and me
My dearest Nora, wherever thou mayst roam,
The weekend brought a few surprises, all pleasant. For starters, someone had mentioned to me a site called Chatroulette, whereby one is randomly connected via webcam chat to someone else elsewhere in the world. The prospect of entertaining conversation with strangers was of interest to me one particular evening after another strange day at Big City Hospital. More on that in a bit.
What I found upon visiting the site was cause for alarm. The first three people I came across were young men in the nude. Thanks, just the same, but I'll take my business elsewhere. Had a lovely, albeit brief, encounter with a middle-aged couple (!!) from the Midwestern US. A Prairie Home Companion was mentioned and we were all in agreement on its entertainment value. Three French teenagers were next and they kept asking if I listen to Tupac Shakur. Had to reply in the negative as a general rule, but stated that there are occasions on which I may be found to be listening to the man's music.
My last Chatroulette encounter was nothing short of extraordinary. She was as blonde as the day is long, but it was all very natural in appearance. She was lovely, and when she spoke, I was but a smiling, blushing fool. She came from Edinburgh, you see, and my, what an accent. For nearly three hours we spoke, and laughed, and laughed some more. Out of nowhere, she told me that I'm "terribly attractive."
Hold the presses.
This is front-page news.
I told her so, and she seemed to get a great delight out of it. We laughed some more and, as the conversation carried on, I felt glad to speak to an intelligent, beautiful, and ambitious woman who generally found me attractive on all fronts. Gave me one of those little pushes of hope, a sort of, "Ah, go forth, boy!" from the lord above that come round, never a moment too soon.
We spoke until nearly 3 a.m. my time and I had to work hard to force myself away. We exchanged contact information and already she's sent an email. It was a lovely message, typical of what I romantacise all letters from the island to be like. Almost straight from literature, it was. Superb in its styling. Oh my.
Three and one-half hours later, I was turning off my alarm and trying desperately to chase away the fatigue from my eyes and mind. That morning, my dear, I had a date with the golf course. The end result was impressive considering the circumstances, just two over my approximate per-game average! Beautiful course, not crowded, and friendly residents. Good day.
Now, on to tales from Big City Hospital.
Traffic prevented me from arriving at my appointed time. It's an irritating occurrence for me, and surely for all involved, and I do my best to avoid it on a consistent basis. As I entered the nurse's station, The Nurse teased me a little about my tardiness. Off to a good start.
I scrambled around the hospital, running all manner of errands, and encountering generally friendly people wherever I went. Some tasks were executed with a speed unanticipated by the nurse who requested the favour, and I got many big smiles and warm expressions of gratitude. It was, as always, a pleasure to do something for people who do so much for others...and often without so much as a proper, "Thank you."
There were four, yes, four, would-be escape artists on the ward. It was an exciting prospect to me, albeit perhaps a bit on the scary side. These are, after all, not well-minded people. All but one of them were well-behaved, aside from a minor incident here and there. The one who would not comply was a bit of a doozy.
Never did find out his reason for taking up temporary residence on our floor, but he surely displayed signs of only having a lightly-placed foot in reality. Kind of a irritable chap, he was. When there was an emergency in another room, the "guard" for Mr. Houdini had to be called into action. He chose this opportunity to attempt an escape. However, he only made it ten feet down the hallway before he was escorted back to his room by me and one of the nurses. For a few interesting minutes, I stood guard. He was well-behaved and settled in his bed to watch a little television. Hmm! Upon the return of his previous "guard," he was up to his old tricks. Perhaps their personalities clashed. heh. Guards were exchanged and things went on without incident for nearly two hours.
I was on my way up on the lift from running an errand for a stunningly gorgeous nurse (married, of course). My mind was on The Nurse and if I'd have the opportunity to inquire as to whether she might soon be available for a night of entertainment when the doors opened. Standing there, gown half-open and a bag full of assorted items in hand, was Mr. Houdini. I had not anticipated this.
Three nurses and one tech were on the scene. I stood before the open lift, blocking his entrance. For a brief moment, I saw in his eyes a glimmer of, "You'd best remove yourself from my path, otherwise suffer the wrath of my anger and desperation."
...and I reacted by nearly laughing.
Oftentimes in my life, when I'm experiencing something novel that perhaps I'd never imagined would happen to me, my natural reaction is to be overwhelmed with its novelty and be...well, entertained by it. It sometimes takes every ounce of effort to restrain myself and instead display the emotion appropriate to the situation.
So, there the six of us stood. The doors of the lift closed shut behind me. Mr. Houdini went for the button to call it back, but the five of us surrounding him moved accordingly, thereby denying his access. One nurse was gently trying to coax him back to his room with calm speech, but it was not having any effect. Another asked, "What's the matter? Don't you like us?" He said that most them were alright, but that he absolutely must leave to avoid being cited for an expired parking meter. I piped up and asked why he was in such a hurry to leave behind so many beautiful women, and that his insistence upon leaving must be hurting their feelings. He thought about this for a moment, but went right back to slight agitation and talking about insufficient funds to pay a fine.
Around this time, a couple of security guards showed up. Under their authority, he (mostly) calmly returned to his room. However, he lashed out at one of the guards and subsequently wound up being rendered unable to do anything of the sort again.
Just as that settled down, a man on the other side of the hall began yelling an endless stream of obscenities. The last thing that I heard him say before quieting back down was, "Well, I don't want to watch the (expletive) soccer, football, kick the (expletive) ball past some group of (expletive). This is unconstitutional!" It was a light-hearted, amusing moment for those of us at the nurse's station.
...but it did not last.
Stroke alert.
At the end of the day, a frazzled-looking RN hopped on the lift to head to the floor above my destination. I smiled and asked whether she was on her way home soon. She turned to face me. Her frizzy brown hair, pulled back, revealed hints of grey above her ears. Heavy bags, like someone had packed for a three-month expedition to the antarctic, under her bloodshot eyes... "This is only the beginning," she said. At this moment, the doors slid open and she made her exit. I spent a lot of the drive home wondering about her, what she'd experienced to make her look so war-torn.
Finally, in a completely unrelated note, as I made my way to an open desk at the library this morning, a book nestled in on one of the countless shelves caught my eye. It was an anthology of the works of a Japanese writer. A cherry blossom tree adorned the cover. I wanted nothing more than to pluck it from its resting place and devour it. I was put in the literary mood this morning on the way to university when I heard a bit of poetry from days long past recited on the radio. Hm.
May the grace of He keep you always,
J.O. Morris
The weekend brought a few surprises, all pleasant. For starters, someone had mentioned to me a site called Chatroulette, whereby one is randomly connected via webcam chat to someone else elsewhere in the world. The prospect of entertaining conversation with strangers was of interest to me one particular evening after another strange day at Big City Hospital. More on that in a bit.
What I found upon visiting the site was cause for alarm. The first three people I came across were young men in the nude. Thanks, just the same, but I'll take my business elsewhere. Had a lovely, albeit brief, encounter with a middle-aged couple (!!) from the Midwestern US. A Prairie Home Companion was mentioned and we were all in agreement on its entertainment value. Three French teenagers were next and they kept asking if I listen to Tupac Shakur. Had to reply in the negative as a general rule, but stated that there are occasions on which I may be found to be listening to the man's music.
My last Chatroulette encounter was nothing short of extraordinary. She was as blonde as the day is long, but it was all very natural in appearance. She was lovely, and when she spoke, I was but a smiling, blushing fool. She came from Edinburgh, you see, and my, what an accent. For nearly three hours we spoke, and laughed, and laughed some more. Out of nowhere, she told me that I'm "terribly attractive."
Hold the presses.
This is front-page news.
I told her so, and she seemed to get a great delight out of it. We laughed some more and, as the conversation carried on, I felt glad to speak to an intelligent, beautiful, and ambitious woman who generally found me attractive on all fronts. Gave me one of those little pushes of hope, a sort of, "Ah, go forth, boy!" from the lord above that come round, never a moment too soon.
We spoke until nearly 3 a.m. my time and I had to work hard to force myself away. We exchanged contact information and already she's sent an email. It was a lovely message, typical of what I romantacise all letters from the island to be like. Almost straight from literature, it was. Superb in its styling. Oh my.
Three and one-half hours later, I was turning off my alarm and trying desperately to chase away the fatigue from my eyes and mind. That morning, my dear, I had a date with the golf course. The end result was impressive considering the circumstances, just two over my approximate per-game average! Beautiful course, not crowded, and friendly residents. Good day.
Now, on to tales from Big City Hospital.
Traffic prevented me from arriving at my appointed time. It's an irritating occurrence for me, and surely for all involved, and I do my best to avoid it on a consistent basis. As I entered the nurse's station, The Nurse teased me a little about my tardiness. Off to a good start.
I scrambled around the hospital, running all manner of errands, and encountering generally friendly people wherever I went. Some tasks were executed with a speed unanticipated by the nurse who requested the favour, and I got many big smiles and warm expressions of gratitude. It was, as always, a pleasure to do something for people who do so much for others...and often without so much as a proper, "Thank you."
There were four, yes, four, would-be escape artists on the ward. It was an exciting prospect to me, albeit perhaps a bit on the scary side. These are, after all, not well-minded people. All but one of them were well-behaved, aside from a minor incident here and there. The one who would not comply was a bit of a doozy.
Never did find out his reason for taking up temporary residence on our floor, but he surely displayed signs of only having a lightly-placed foot in reality. Kind of a irritable chap, he was. When there was an emergency in another room, the "guard" for Mr. Houdini had to be called into action. He chose this opportunity to attempt an escape. However, he only made it ten feet down the hallway before he was escorted back to his room by me and one of the nurses. For a few interesting minutes, I stood guard. He was well-behaved and settled in his bed to watch a little television. Hmm! Upon the return of his previous "guard," he was up to his old tricks. Perhaps their personalities clashed. heh. Guards were exchanged and things went on without incident for nearly two hours.
I was on my way up on the lift from running an errand for a stunningly gorgeous nurse (married, of course). My mind was on The Nurse and if I'd have the opportunity to inquire as to whether she might soon be available for a night of entertainment when the doors opened. Standing there, gown half-open and a bag full of assorted items in hand, was Mr. Houdini. I had not anticipated this.
Three nurses and one tech were on the scene. I stood before the open lift, blocking his entrance. For a brief moment, I saw in his eyes a glimmer of, "You'd best remove yourself from my path, otherwise suffer the wrath of my anger and desperation."
...and I reacted by nearly laughing.
Oftentimes in my life, when I'm experiencing something novel that perhaps I'd never imagined would happen to me, my natural reaction is to be overwhelmed with its novelty and be...well, entertained by it. It sometimes takes every ounce of effort to restrain myself and instead display the emotion appropriate to the situation.
So, there the six of us stood. The doors of the lift closed shut behind me. Mr. Houdini went for the button to call it back, but the five of us surrounding him moved accordingly, thereby denying his access. One nurse was gently trying to coax him back to his room with calm speech, but it was not having any effect. Another asked, "What's the matter? Don't you like us?" He said that most them were alright, but that he absolutely must leave to avoid being cited for an expired parking meter. I piped up and asked why he was in such a hurry to leave behind so many beautiful women, and that his insistence upon leaving must be hurting their feelings. He thought about this for a moment, but went right back to slight agitation and talking about insufficient funds to pay a fine.
Around this time, a couple of security guards showed up. Under their authority, he (mostly) calmly returned to his room. However, he lashed out at one of the guards and subsequently wound up being rendered unable to do anything of the sort again.
Just as that settled down, a man on the other side of the hall began yelling an endless stream of obscenities. The last thing that I heard him say before quieting back down was, "Well, I don't want to watch the (expletive) soccer, football, kick the (expletive) ball past some group of (expletive). This is unconstitutional!" It was a light-hearted, amusing moment for those of us at the nurse's station.
...but it did not last.
Stroke alert.
At the end of the day, a frazzled-looking RN hopped on the lift to head to the floor above my destination. I smiled and asked whether she was on her way home soon. She turned to face me. Her frizzy brown hair, pulled back, revealed hints of grey above her ears. Heavy bags, like someone had packed for a three-month expedition to the antarctic, under her bloodshot eyes... "This is only the beginning," she said. At this moment, the doors slid open and she made her exit. I spent a lot of the drive home wondering about her, what she'd experienced to make her look so war-torn.
Finally, in a completely unrelated note, as I made my way to an open desk at the library this morning, a book nestled in on one of the countless shelves caught my eye. It was an anthology of the works of a Japanese writer. A cherry blossom tree adorned the cover. I wanted nothing more than to pluck it from its resting place and devour it. I was put in the literary mood this morning on the way to university when I heard a bit of poetry from days long past recited on the radio. Hm.
May the grace of He keep you always,
J.O. Morris
Saturday, June 19, 2010
The Nurse and other minute tales
My dearest Nora, wherever thou mayst roam,
As I write to you this fine evening, the time is 8:48, Miles Davis' brilliant record "Relaxin'" is currently playing on my laptop computing device (song is an absolute favourite, "If I Were A Bell"), and the electricity is out due to a storm. It's actually kind of a lovely little moment and for it I'm quite appreciative.
My only wish is that The Nurse were present. Mmm, an incredibly romantic set of circumstances...a little slow-dancing by candlelight, a little whispering of sweet nothings, a little giggling. Ahem. Yes.
Blew an opportunity this week to ask her out. While I'm no great judge of when a woman is interested, I'm pretty sure that I was right this time. We sat in close proximity for a good half hour, laughing, talking a bit about ourselves, making a little physical contact... I lost myself countless times. My, what lovely eyes. Brown. Brown eyes! I never seem to go for brown-eyed girls. But my, goodness, they're lovely. Her eyes are not narrow and sharp as some of the other nurses' eyes seem to be...no, they're fresh and round and bursting with gentleness. She's incredibly sweet. Incredibly.
Overall, besides being all swept up in the clouds, the week went well. Some heart-breaking patient stories, some really beautiful stories, some just routine. One guy who has been there for months is starting to make great progress with his speech and ambulates well with assistance. When I started there, things looked grim for the poor man. It's an extraordinary thing, and one that I think is cause for cheer.
I took a little old lady under my wing. No visitors. At all. She was such a pleasant and upbeat person despite her circumstances. She's being transferred elsewhere before I go back next week, so we had a sentimental goodbye before I clocked out. Tears looked like they were being held back when she expressed her gratitude for my work. She told me that she just knew I'll make it to medical school and that I'll make a great doctor. Coming from her, that meant the world to me. She was a terribly interesting woman, having worked closely with a notable public figure for many years and then spending over a decade after retirement donating her time and efforts to a well-known charity. I hated to face the fact that she won't be there when I next clock in. All smiles, all the time.
My relations with the nursing staff continues to improve greatly, even to the point that we're all playing little tricks on one another. I'm feeling very comfortable and as though I'm amongst family.
Golf in the a.m. Got fit for some new golf balls and am anxious to see how they play. Looking to shoot an all-time low score...no cheating!
Ah, that's the power back on just now, 90 minutes almost to the second. Copy, paste, time for bed.
May the grace of He keep you always,
J.O. Morris
As I write to you this fine evening, the time is 8:48, Miles Davis' brilliant record "Relaxin'" is currently playing on my laptop computing device (song is an absolute favourite, "If I Were A Bell"), and the electricity is out due to a storm. It's actually kind of a lovely little moment and for it I'm quite appreciative.
My only wish is that The Nurse were present. Mmm, an incredibly romantic set of circumstances...a little slow-dancing by candlelight, a little whispering of sweet nothings, a little giggling. Ahem. Yes.
Blew an opportunity this week to ask her out. While I'm no great judge of when a woman is interested, I'm pretty sure that I was right this time. We sat in close proximity for a good half hour, laughing, talking a bit about ourselves, making a little physical contact... I lost myself countless times. My, what lovely eyes. Brown. Brown eyes! I never seem to go for brown-eyed girls. But my, goodness, they're lovely. Her eyes are not narrow and sharp as some of the other nurses' eyes seem to be...no, they're fresh and round and bursting with gentleness. She's incredibly sweet. Incredibly.
Overall, besides being all swept up in the clouds, the week went well. Some heart-breaking patient stories, some really beautiful stories, some just routine. One guy who has been there for months is starting to make great progress with his speech and ambulates well with assistance. When I started there, things looked grim for the poor man. It's an extraordinary thing, and one that I think is cause for cheer.
I took a little old lady under my wing. No visitors. At all. She was such a pleasant and upbeat person despite her circumstances. She's being transferred elsewhere before I go back next week, so we had a sentimental goodbye before I clocked out. Tears looked like they were being held back when she expressed her gratitude for my work. She told me that she just knew I'll make it to medical school and that I'll make a great doctor. Coming from her, that meant the world to me. She was a terribly interesting woman, having worked closely with a notable public figure for many years and then spending over a decade after retirement donating her time and efforts to a well-known charity. I hated to face the fact that she won't be there when I next clock in. All smiles, all the time.
My relations with the nursing staff continues to improve greatly, even to the point that we're all playing little tricks on one another. I'm feeling very comfortable and as though I'm amongst family.
Golf in the a.m. Got fit for some new golf balls and am anxious to see how they play. Looking to shoot an all-time low score...no cheating!
Ah, that's the power back on just now, 90 minutes almost to the second. Copy, paste, time for bed.
May the grace of He keep you always,
J.O. Morris
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