#16 on my Boston Bucket List was going to the Museum of Fine Art. I am happy to announce that I have now gone twice and that it was free both times. Winning!
The first time I went my friend Ally was in town from DC with some of her friends from her internship. They mostly just crashed at my place and explored the city while I was at the hospital. But on Monday (it was Memorial Day) I didn't have class or clinical so we hit the ground running before they had to catch the bus back to DC that afternoon. The MFA was free on Memorial Day so it was packed, but so much fun! I really loved all of the exhibits I got to see in the few hours we were there. Especially the Greek and Roman statues. I don't know what it is, but I'm such a sucker for them. They're my favorite exhibit nearly every time.
The second time I met my friend, ironically also named Allie, though the spelling difference is important, for a free Wednesday night after she got off of work. There were a few exhibits that she was interested in seeing and that I wanted to see as well. We only spent around an hour and half there but it was still way favorite. And then we went for dinner and ice cream with Anne Marie, and you just can't beat that.
Also, I'm not sure how this happened, but I don't have a single picture from either time I went to the museum. How is that even possible?
Third times a charm?
Thursday, August 2, 2012
Wednesday, August 1, 2012
#1
This post is a long time coming, but several months ago I was able to cross off #1 on my Boston Bucket List: I went to a Celtics game.
It was their last home game of the season before the finals started. My friend Jennie had an extra ticket and texted me that Thursday morning to see if I wanted it. Did I want it?! Is that even a question? The real question was if it was possible for me to go. You see, Thursday nights I had my Psych clinical until 9:00 pm, and there was no way I would make it to the game if I went to the whole thing. I was afraid to ask my instructor to leave early for something so seemingly inconsequential as a Celtics game, but I figured there's no point in making her decision for her - I'd ask and then she could make the decision herself. Luckily she was incredibly understanding and I was able to go in an hour and a half early so that I could finish my hours in time to go! She told me later that one of the reasons she was so inclined to make it work was because I was so honest with her about my reason for going, I didn't just call in sick or something easy like that. So chalk one up to honesty!
The game itself was unbelievable. Our seats were amazing, the company was fabulous, and the Celtics won! You just can't beat a night like that. Thank you Jennie for inviting me!
It was their last home game of the season before the finals started. My friend Jennie had an extra ticket and texted me that Thursday morning to see if I wanted it. Did I want it?! Is that even a question? The real question was if it was possible for me to go. You see, Thursday nights I had my Psych clinical until 9:00 pm, and there was no way I would make it to the game if I went to the whole thing. I was afraid to ask my instructor to leave early for something so seemingly inconsequential as a Celtics game, but I figured there's no point in making her decision for her - I'd ask and then she could make the decision herself. Luckily she was incredibly understanding and I was able to go in an hour and a half early so that I could finish my hours in time to go! She told me later that one of the reasons she was so inclined to make it work was because I was so honest with her about my reason for going, I didn't just call in sick or something easy like that. So chalk one up to honesty!
The game itself was unbelievable. Our seats were amazing, the company was fabulous, and the Celtics won! You just can't beat a night like that. Thank you Jennie for inviting me!
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| Did I mention our seats were awesome? |
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| Me, Jennie, Amber, and (part of) Melanie |
Sunday, July 22, 2012
Confession
I choose my blog font based on the name. The last one? Calligraffiti.
This new one? Unkempt. I'd like to say that this new name is not a reflection of my current state of mind, but I'd be lying if I did.
This new one? Unkempt. I'd like to say that this new name is not a reflection of my current state of mind, but I'd be lying if I did.
My Main Man
Well I think it's time for you all to meet the main man in my life. Friends, this is Saunders.
You may be asking yourself how serious it is. Let's just say we're pretty exclusive. He can be jealous and demanding, but ultimately I know that he wants what's best for me. He's always on my mind and I rarely go anywhere without him.Thinking about him keeps me up at night. My friends are starting to get sick of me because it's gotten to the point that he's all I ever think or talk about. Will it last? Only time will tell.
And let's all hope that our time together is limited because, let's be honest, it's not a healthy relationship. After August 1 I hope to be rid of him (and the NCLEX) forever!
You may be asking yourself how serious it is. Let's just say we're pretty exclusive. He can be jealous and demanding, but ultimately I know that he wants what's best for me. He's always on my mind and I rarely go anywhere without him.Thinking about him keeps me up at night. My friends are starting to get sick of me because it's gotten to the point that he's all I ever think or talk about. Will it last? Only time will tell.
And let's all hope that our time together is limited because, let's be honest, it's not a healthy relationship. After August 1 I hope to be rid of him (and the NCLEX) forever!
Thursday, July 19, 2012
Dreams
A few weeks ago I finished my rotation in the NICU for my summer synthesis. I've tried several times since then to sit down and write about it, but haven't been able to yet. Even now as I type this, I have tears streaming down my face - tears of gratitude, tears of sadness, tears because I'm so overwhelmed with the opportunity I had to fulfill a life-long dream. But how do you put all of that into words? I feel so inadequate to do so, and yet I have to try. It's something that has become so much a part of me that it can't go undocumented. So here's my best shot.
I have very mixed feelings about it being over, mostly erring on the side of being verklempt. It was, quite literally, a dream come true for me to work there, so I am more than a little sad to see it end. I had extremely high expectations going in to it, and the entire experience far exceeded my wildest dreams. Isn't it amazing when reality goes so far beyond what you could ever hope for? Those moments are rare and precious and life-changing.
First of all, there's the staff. They are some of the funniest, most caring, knowledgeable people I've ever met. I got to work with two preceptors (nurses I worked under) and I could not have hand-picked better people to work with. I won't share their names on this blog since I have not gotten their permission to do so, but I wish that I could. I wish that each of you could get to know them because your life would be better for it. I know mine is. They accepted me unquestioningly and made me feel like I made a valuable contribution to the medical team. They guided me and encouraged me and praised me, even when I felt inadequate for their love and praise. They took me under their wing and gave me some perfect examples of the kind of nurse I want to become. I truly can't express how blessed I feel to have been under their tutelage.
And then there are the patients. They are unlike any other patients you could ever have. There is no way to prepare yourself for what you'll feel while working in the NICU. It's more than a little heartbreaking to work with these tiny infants when it seems like all odds are against them. And then you see their little personalities and their fight to live and it makes you appreciate every second you have on this earth, even the hard ones. Those tiny fingers that wrap themselves around yours and suddenly you're hooked. Even though you know that they'll eventually go home and you may never see them again, you can't help but become attached to them, to their families. They are these strong, miraculous little beings who you would do anything in the world for. You begin to recognize their cues, their likes and dislikes, their preferred positioning. Even though they can't use words, they still communicate with you if you pay attention. And when they are discharged, even though you feel sad to see them go, you mostly feel happy because you see that there is good in the work you do and that it does make a difference in these peoples lives. They thank you profusely for your help, but all you want to do is thank them for their strength, for allowing you to be a part of this journey of theirs, and for the trust and love they show you. And it makes all of the long, challenging, heartbreaking days worth every second.
There is so much more I could write about. I could write about my two primary patients, a baby born at 25 weeks and another at 26 weeks. I could write about the respiratory therapists, physical therapists, ophthalmologists and other medical professionals I had the pleasure to associate with. I could write about the wonderful sense of community among all of the staff on the floor, how everyone watches out for one another. I could write about the crazy-long days where we didn't get to lunch until 4:00. I could talk about how fulfilling it is to care for people who physically cannot care for themselves, to make a difference, however small, in their lives. And maybe I will write about those things, some day. But for today, I just want to say that I am grateful. Grateful and sad. Grateful for this experience and the ability I had to make my dreams come true and the fact that I loved it more than I could have imagined, and sad because it's over. But also hopeful. Hopeful because I have a lifetime left in which I can continue to make my dreams come true. And that is a beautiful thing.
I have very mixed feelings about it being over, mostly erring on the side of being verklempt. It was, quite literally, a dream come true for me to work there, so I am more than a little sad to see it end. I had extremely high expectations going in to it, and the entire experience far exceeded my wildest dreams. Isn't it amazing when reality goes so far beyond what you could ever hope for? Those moments are rare and precious and life-changing.
First of all, there's the staff. They are some of the funniest, most caring, knowledgeable people I've ever met. I got to work with two preceptors (nurses I worked under) and I could not have hand-picked better people to work with. I won't share their names on this blog since I have not gotten their permission to do so, but I wish that I could. I wish that each of you could get to know them because your life would be better for it. I know mine is. They accepted me unquestioningly and made me feel like I made a valuable contribution to the medical team. They guided me and encouraged me and praised me, even when I felt inadequate for their love and praise. They took me under their wing and gave me some perfect examples of the kind of nurse I want to become. I truly can't express how blessed I feel to have been under their tutelage.
And then there are the patients. They are unlike any other patients you could ever have. There is no way to prepare yourself for what you'll feel while working in the NICU. It's more than a little heartbreaking to work with these tiny infants when it seems like all odds are against them. And then you see their little personalities and their fight to live and it makes you appreciate every second you have on this earth, even the hard ones. Those tiny fingers that wrap themselves around yours and suddenly you're hooked. Even though you know that they'll eventually go home and you may never see them again, you can't help but become attached to them, to their families. They are these strong, miraculous little beings who you would do anything in the world for. You begin to recognize their cues, their likes and dislikes, their preferred positioning. Even though they can't use words, they still communicate with you if you pay attention. And when they are discharged, even though you feel sad to see them go, you mostly feel happy because you see that there is good in the work you do and that it does make a difference in these peoples lives. They thank you profusely for your help, but all you want to do is thank them for their strength, for allowing you to be a part of this journey of theirs, and for the trust and love they show you. And it makes all of the long, challenging, heartbreaking days worth every second.
There is so much more I could write about. I could write about my two primary patients, a baby born at 25 weeks and another at 26 weeks. I could write about the respiratory therapists, physical therapists, ophthalmologists and other medical professionals I had the pleasure to associate with. I could write about the wonderful sense of community among all of the staff on the floor, how everyone watches out for one another. I could write about the crazy-long days where we didn't get to lunch until 4:00. I could talk about how fulfilling it is to care for people who physically cannot care for themselves, to make a difference, however small, in their lives. And maybe I will write about those things, some day. But for today, I just want to say that I am grateful. Grateful and sad. Grateful for this experience and the ability I had to make my dreams come true and the fact that I loved it more than I could have imagined, and sad because it's over. But also hopeful. Hopeful because I have a lifetime left in which I can continue to make my dreams come true. And that is a beautiful thing.
Friday, July 13, 2012
Sleep
So I went to bed 2 hours ago because I was tired and my productivity was reaching a new low. And yet, as you can tell by the fact that I'm writing this post, I'm still awake. NCLEX (my certifying exam) is keeping me up.
If things continue this way, I'm in for a long 3 weeks.
If things continue this way, I'm in for a long 3 weeks.
Sunday, July 1, 2012
Voice
So this weekend I got sick (can you say finals?) and lost my voice. Like gone, gone. As in, it-seems-like-I'm-whispering-but-really-I-just-can't-speak.
Which I've come to find out makes all of my conversations a little more interesting. It's like everything is a secret.
Which I've come to find out makes all of my conversations a little more interesting. It's like everything is a secret.
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