Steak for Breakfast

Me, a night shift nurse. There's good. There's bad. And yes, there's ugly. 

I started out my day yesterday waking up, showering, and running to the local grocery store for some salad for a dinner I had planned with one of my favorite families, their last night with their son before they send him off to college. The first thing I ate yesterday was steak. 

Momma probably would have been in awe if I woke up as a child or a teen and asked for steak for breakfast. That is a little abnormal. But the steak for breakfast yesterday? That was completely not off-the-wall at all for me. That is my new norm. No I don't eat steak for breakfast everyday, but the reason supper at 9pm was my 'breakfast' time is because working night shift has taken its hold on me, and rarely releases its grip. 

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the Good: 

If you asked me a year and half ago if I enjoyed night shift, I would have said yes, absolutely, with no reserve. If you asked me yesterday, I would have said yes again. But the hesitation is becoming more evident, creeping up. My body and mind usually do okay sleeping in the day and staying awake all night. I am an energetic person. It is my norm. I love to laugh, and enjoy even more to make other people laugh, even if sometimes they are just laughing at my snaughling. 



Since being on night shift, I have had multiple of my elders and peers discouraging it,  pushing me to opt for a day shift position if I was given the choice. But back when I started on night shift, I was excited. Hey, differential, am I right? I enjoy the management-less building. I enjoy the drama-less co-workers I typically get to work with all night long. But. Over the past 12 months. My drive to be on night shift has certainly lessened. I still enjoy the differential, but it was never all about the money for me, and never will be. I still enjoy most of my co-workers, although sometimes some of my faves really let me down. But my heart doesn't seem to be in it anymore. 

the Bad:

I am emotionally exhausted. I go to work, do my best to please the patients while still maintaining the healthcare standards necessary and put in place to give them the best care to my ability and within my scope of practice, and get them healthy and home as soon as possible. But I go to work, and my patience is literally about as short as the fuse on a Bobcat (firecracker that is). It takes about 3 seconds of an unable-to-be-satisfied-patient's bad attitude to make me want to just go home immediately. Unfortunately in those moments, patients still need their nurses to get better and get home, so emergency emotional-breakdown-on-the-verge-Rachael moments, don't come with a quick solution at all hours of the night/morning. 

I used to go to work everyday, and think about how blessed I am that I am not the sick one in the bed. That I was privileged enough to be able to go to school, had worked hard enough to graduate, and now get to go to work every single day to help make people's lives better. Yes, even the 6 year old who I have to put an IV in, yes even that child, I get to do what I can to make that kid's life better. Here lately, I still find myself blessed that I am well, and able to care for those that aren't. But each shift feels more like a routine, like a cycle, like I am a hamster stuck in this wheel called life. The only relief from what has seemingly become an episode of my life stuck on constant repeat, is sleep. 

the Ugly:

I am mentally exhausted. I bring it home. I take it to my best friend's house. I take it to my Mom's. I have to hide it in church, where I should feel most free to be most transparent, I hide it best. I am tired at weird times all the time. It makes me moody sometimes. I am very impatient with people. I am easily annoyed with pointless (in my opinion) stories and wasted time. Sleeping all day, even on my nights off, because I have no motivation, I have few friends here, and we typically live on opposite schedules. I would not consider myself a clinically depressed person, I still find joy in simple things, and I can still sport a smile like a champ, but I guarantee I smile a significant amount less than a year ago. I notice it, I notice the increased negativity, and am unable to find the means to change it.  And I strongly believe working nights can assume part of that blame. As well as the devil himself.



I am spiritually exhausted. My faith in God has not faltered, not one bit. But, I don't strive to feed it. I don't just sit down and read my Bible anymore. I used to always make a point of it, even if it meant reading on my break at work, I would always find time to sit and at least read a chapter or two. It was important, very important to me. Seems I got comfortable where my relationship with Christ was, and I pushed it aside, I don't make it a priority anymore. I used to be able to attend Thursday night Bible study with the ladies as well as Wednesday morning coffee. But even those are few and far between anymore. But simply put, I don't spend as much time hanging out with God as I used to. And that is wearing on me. That is the ugliest part of me right now. 

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If you're reading this. Maybe you are finding yourself in a similar struggle or slump. Welcome. You are so incredibly not alone. In fact, before reading this blog, before realizing there is someone else out there with some of the similar struggles, God was there. He is always there. I never forget that, not anymore. But sometimes I feel Him closer than other times. Not because He moves away from me, but because I find myself drifting away from Him. 



Instead of worrying about whether I am on day shift or night shift, pray for my walk with God. Instead of asking me why I am still single, pray for my Mr. Forever. Instead of wondering if I am getting more (enough) sleep, pray that I am getting more God-time, and in correlation acquiring more patience at work, at home, and just in my all-around life. Starting with my poor roommate that never gets to see me, but when she is unfortunate enough to have a run-in with me, it is usually not the most pleasant experience from her end I am sure. Sorry Becca. 

As I continue trying to find myself in this crazy world, I pray I continue my endeavor to find more and more of God. I pray that my family, co-workers, friends, and acquaintances will accept my sincere apology for my recent setbacks in my faith, attitude, and all-around peace.

Lastly, get yourself to church. Fellowship with my believing peers keeps me sane. Do yourself a favor, and get to church. It is free, family-friendly, and necessary. 

"For where 2 or 3 are gathered together in My name, there I am in the midst of them." 
-Matthew 18:20 KJV

"Let the word of Christ dwell in you richly in all wisdom; teaching and admonishing one another in psalms and hymns and spiritual, singing with grace in your hearts to the Lord." 
-Colossians 3:16 

Now, enjoy some of the not-so-random video links I post at the end of each blog. #sofittingrightnow

Stand ~ Britt Nicole 

Hurricane ~ Natalie Grant  

My Deliverer ~ Mandisa

Thank you for reading! May God bless you in every way today and throughout your life. 

100 Miles and a little ADD

My older brother asked me the other day, "Do you just like to drive?"

The answer is, yes. For a couple reasons, some silly, some 'odd,' all honest.

I actually enjoy the road, I enjoy being behind the wheel, I enjoy being in control of the vehicle I am riding in (always would much rather be the driver than the passenger, I don't care how much older than me you are, but if you're reading this Mister Forever, I promise to let you drive sometimes...), I enjoy listening to music, I enjoy dancing, I enjoy my SUV. I like to drive. In 15 months, I put a little over 40,000 miles on my car. So yeah, you could say I like to drive.

Many people think I am weird for preferring to travel alone. But I love it, I love being alone, just me and God. Me and my mess of thoughts. If you think having a conversation with me is rough, the ADD amongst my thoughts is much worse than my verbal ADD. I find encouragement in knowing that no matter what, God gets me. He made me this way, thus, He has to get me. No matter the mess going on in my life, no matter the mess I have let my heart get into, or trouble I got my mind into, He is there, and He always gets me. I never know what I will find along the way from one location to my next destination, but usually it is an adventure. (Also, sometimes a smidgen of road rage, usually worse when I am alone, because I do try to spare my passengers of my full-blown road rage bouts.) But an adventure nonetheless, always an adventure.

Yes, I drive 100 miles to see my best friend for 20 minutes. (This has happened a couple times in fact, and I don't regret it, not even once.) Yes, I would do that every day for 100 days if I needed to and/or if they needed me to. Yes, I would drop what I could to be by your side in your time of need. No, I am not the world's greatest friend at all times, but I hope to be so when you need me to be. Sometimes I am busy, I work many hours, but I do have a huge heart. I weep when you are sad, my heart breaks for your loss and your hard times, and I care. I would drive 100 miles, just to hug you, even if just for a minute. I love, a lot!  So yes, I will do what I can do be there for you when you should need me.

His question arose when I was home one weekend, I came home late late late Saturday morning (4:30am), after heading to my Momma's after getting out of a concert in Wichita around 11:30pm. (Wichita ---> Momma's house = 4 hours 15 minutes + stop in Hays at Wally World for about an hour = home to Momma's at 0430.) Woke around 7:30am, to my Pops making train sounds, (still unsure why this occurred, but apparently he found himself amusing, because this continued for a good 3 minutes). Rolled over on the couch to catch some more zzz's after Dad left the house, then got up about 8am. Hung out with my sisters, Momma, brothers, and nephews the rest of the day, then got ready to leave late that night, with my sister-roomie, at which time my brother asks, "Are you coming to Eli's birthday party?" "Yes, I will be back tomorrow after church." "Do you just like to drive?" "Yes, I do."

(Birthday boy and I!)

This particular Sunday was potluck Sunday, always a treat at any Baptist church, we know how to potluck. It was our month to serve and clean-up, and I had already volunteered to several members that I intended to be there. I love my church family, I have bragged on them time and time again to people who have not attended, because they are so great. We are going through some big changes, and I do not want to miss a single Sunday if I can help it. I want to spend as much time with people I love there that will be leaving before I know it. I want to be there to love on them while I still have time to do so. Church was great, as always, and I was able to love good on some good people.

Life is short, so remember,

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Time is like a river. You cannot touch the same water twice, because the flow that has passed will never pass again. Enjoy every moment of your life. -Unknown

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With every moment that passes, you have already lost the last; make the most of each that you have.


After church that Sunday, we cleaned up after the potluck, I then headed home to change, and hit the road for Momma's house again, and loved every second of the trip, both ways, alone. 100 miles.  

 

 

Check out this lyric video to Abandon Kansas' song 'Chariot' here! :)

To the Friend I Never got to Say Goodbye To

Jacob,

I don't know what to write to you, because my heart is still broken.  I know that I loved you then, and I love you now. I can tell you that when I left my job in Hays, you were my favorite CNA to work alongside with, always there to help, always there to make me laugh when we had been having a long shift. Always there, way behind on charting just like me because we had been so busy, and willing to entertain me and make me laugh in an empty patient room while we stayed after our shift to catch up on that charting, which probably made the catching up on charting actually take much longer, but if you asked me then, I didn't care. If you ask me now, I will tell you I would go back and waste much more time with you if I could.

If you asked a patient, any patient you ever cared for, they would say you were a kindhearted gentleman, who did your best to make their stay enjoyable and as short as possible. And as much as I enjoyed working with you, I loved our time spent together outside of work even more. Our late afternoon walks, hours of playing basketball, swinging in the park, driving around.

You were never one to complain, which is probably why no one suspected anything like the outcome that came about after you went missing. You sure knew how to listen though, and I appreciated that, thank you. In fact, I find myself talking to you still sometimes. I wish your family would have left your Facebook profile up, it was just a little thing, and maybe it was too painful for them to see you in what we consider a big part of our lives now, on our technology that we let distract us from each other and the people and things that really matter, but I enjoyed being able to scroll through pictures of you, pictures of you doing things you loved with people you loved.

But you never let those distractions get in the way when we were together. You gave me all your attention, and I enjoyed it, I hope I returned the respect. You mom convinced herself that you were going to be found, you were going to open a random door for a random elderly lady, who was going to look up to your face to thank you, and recognize you, because you were that kind of person.

Your sisters, 16 and 14 at the time. I remember you always talking about them and how you being their brother, also tried to fill the role of being their father, because you had been raised without one most of your life, and didn't want them to have to go through that as well. And though I know they only saw you as their brother, they did nothing less than respect you and appreciate the time you made them priority in your life. As much as my heart is broken, I know they, at their young and vulnerable age, also have questions and doubts, and wish they could have done or said something to help. No child should have to bury their brother, I have been there and done that, but the circumstances were quite different.

I remember texting you the day before you went missing, our last conversation. I had been gone from Hays for months by this time, the times I had returned, whether for family obligation or to grab more stuff from my storage unit, it never worked out for us to get together. I wish I could say it was all your fault, but it was both of us, our schedules that we used to force to coincide, no longer did. I spent most of my days over a hundred miles away, but it felt like an eternity away.
 

The day before you took off in your uncle's vehicle. The day before you went and bought a gun and ammo. The day before you decided life wasn't worth living anymore. The day before I prayed for you for hours (or rather, days). The day before the end of your known life. I don't know what day you actually shot yourself, you were missing for 10. I don't know the thoughts going through your mind, but I can imagine utter and complete darkness and despair. I miss you. I remember the moment I found out. And oddly enough, I drove to the closest cemetery, and just wept. Sat there, on that chilly fall night, and just cried to God. The questions reeling through me, with answers to never be known. I went through all the stages of grief, but I definitely started out befuddled, with overwhelming questions, and then anger.

Anger at you, for not letting me in. Anger at you for not telling me what was really going on in your life and in your head. Anger at you for acting like everything was normal and fine, and asking me all about my life instead of answering my questions to you about yours with an honest heart. If you had told me, I would have come back to Hays the first day I had off, maybe even before. I would have listened, I wouldn't have judged, with you and I it was never about that. We accepted each other with all our imperfections.

I remember being so angry that everyone around me could just go on living, and expected me to do the same, even though I had just lost a best friend. Angry at God, because no one should ever have to go through this, not you, not I. Angry at Him because He didn't step in, because He let you buy that gun, because He let you drive to a field in the middle of no where where no one would find you soon enough to talk you out of killing yourself. I have never even contemplated taking the easy way out like you did, but I could never even if I wanted to.

I will forever wish I knew sooner how you were feeling. I can't even remember the last time I saw you for sure, but I remember every bit of our last conversation, because after I found out you were missing, I read it over and over again. And then after losing you, that was all I had of you. All that time we spent together and we don't even have a picture together. But Jacob, your face will never leave me. I will never forget your hugs, your voice, your always hilarious snaps.

I could never kill myself, because I know that my family members expect me in their lives. I am important to them, as were you to me. My father needs to walk me down the aisle, my mother needs to hold my hand while I am laboring my first child into this world. My God needs me to stay on this earth until He decides my time is done, His plan for me complete. 

11 days.

The number of days from the last time I talked to you to the day your body was found in a pasture with self-inflicted GSW. 10 days, the number of days you were missing.  1 day, the amount of time it took for you to go from telling me we were going to hang out when I came to Hays 24 days later, to deciding life was not worth it anymore. 9 days, the amount of time from your last credit card charge, until your family's hopes were raised with news you had been found, then crushed while being informed of the lifeless state your body was in when located under a tree near a pond.

The only thing that kept me going after hearing about your body being found, was remembering the times we talked about God, and my resting assured that you knew my Savior, and had asked Him into your heart, hope that those talks were genuine and honest. And though you didn't always walk the walk or talk the talk, none of us always do, and I believe that someday I may run into you beyond those pearly gates.

If I could have said goodbye, I wouldn't have. I would never have granted your wish to let you do this and never see you again. I wouldn't have let you ask your uncle to borrow his car and a couple bucks. I wouldn't have let you go to that pawn shop for a gun, and then purchase some ammo. No. I would not have said goodbye. I would have told you I loved you, I would have told you our friendship meant the world to me. I would have told you no matter what was going on, this is not the best answer. I would have told you to let me in, let me in your heart, let me in your mind, let me care for you like you have so tenderly cared for everyone else around you. I would have told you that you matter. I would have told you how dark this world would be without the light you provided. I would have told you I needed you. I would have told you not to do it. I would have told you God never wanted your life to end this way. I would have told you I didn't want to walk this earth knowing you no longer shared it with me. I would have told you I didn't want to hurt, I didn't want to cry, I didn't want to permanently miss you. I wanted to be able to come back and have the missing of you resolved with a hang out sesh in Hays. I would have told you that I love you, best friend, and your life matters.

I miss you more than a fat kid at fat camp misses cake,

Rachael

What I Know-Tricia Brock watch the Youtube video here! I love this song, amongst all the questions that never feel answered, this I am sure of. You my God are real. <3

Don't Just Hand a Band-Aid to the Wounded Soul

 

I went to the doctor a week or so ago, because my foot had been hurting for quite some time, (the feet in the picture are not mine, but simply for illustration) and the pain had become straight up unbearable. Before leaving I was told, 'I don't think anything is broken' (I concur) and to take some ibuprofen, apply ice and heat, and call back in 7-10 days if it isn't better.

I do believe I received the right treatment that day, but what if my 3-minute visit was for something more serious that may have went unnoticed because of lack of time spent with me, or concern given? What if she hadn't asked the right questions and I hadn't given the honest answers. I work with said doctor as a nurse on the acute care floor here in the hospital where I am employed, so she is somewhat familiar with me, but that was the first time she had ever seen me on that side of the spectrum, patient to doctor, not the usual nurse to doctor, caring for the same patient. Having that background professionally made me more certain that I would receive the care necessary for my dilemma, because I know what kind of doctor she is and how knowledgeable, but sometimes that is not always the case.

We don't go to the doctor with any intentions of lying, but sometimes information may get skewed. The patient may have already Google-diagnosed and only gives the answers that will result in the way they want their appointment to end and their home instructions to play out. Sometimes we come running to the clinic to be seen for something that we see as major, that may have been going on for a long time, and sometimes we get 2 minutes, a Band-Aid, an antibiotic, and a 'see you later, get well.' --- That upsets us, that upsets our mothers, and it upsets our insurance companies (and our bank accounts) when we have go come running back, this time to the ER because the clinic is closed on weekends, and the 'running back' only happens on weekends, or after midnight you know!) because the first issue wasn't properly addressed and is now more complex, requiring more treatment, and quite possibly hospitalization.

If we don't want to get Band-Aided for our physical health, why should we Band-Aid those around us who are suffering in their spiritual health.

What if that lost soul or broken heart came to church seeking love or friendship, God and answers, but we didn't take a real moment to get to know them? What if they came for months, and you still didn't have the slightest clue to what their story entailed? What if even though you never asked the right questions, slowly they gave you hints and tidbits on what was really going on, and you never picked up on them and never tried to put that puzzle together? What if they already know what's wrong with them, maybe abortion, a miscarriage, maybe a hurting relationship, maybe abuse, a death in the family, maybe total and complete despair, maybe financial issues, maybe health that hasn't been restored even while trusting and giving it completely to Him. We may say hello, we may temporarily bandage them with some artificial and possibly forced love and hugs as they walk in or walk out, but let us not be a Band-Aid society, let us really delve in and get to know the people in our churches on Sundays, Wednesdays, and any other day of the week. Take them to lunch, give them a few extra minutes after the service before you run off with your other 'more important' priorities each week. Embrace their need for the Savior.

Maybe God has allowed this person to hit rock bottom and come into contact with you because He has a plan and He knows you too have a story. No matter what that story of your own entails, if He is a part of it, you can always be there for that person in need, love on them, and pray for their needs whether they be physically, spiritually, &/or emotionally. So what if your past is in ruins and full of mistakes, join the club. So what if you aren't 'perfect', weird, you must be human. God chose you and wants to use you, so let Him!