Travelnurse – Medicinal Conversations

The Health

It’s funny, for as long as I’ve been in medicine, the health to me is not the beep beep, buzz buzz, stick, poke, prod, cut, coagulate, stitch, staple, fix, chart, review, time-out, count 1-10 4×4’s. Not to burst a bubble or 20. But most anyone can learn to do the skills of the trade. Ohh I know, now many have a PhD beside their other letters – To me medicine is not about the schooling either. I mean, it is. (Don’t take it so literally 😷) Maybe I trust the mess more – the vulnerable, gutsy, big hearted, kind and tender, nerdy (yes) too, artsy, weird, human to human, hand to skin, funny people, that never think they know everything – nor are they above anyone.

To me the Health is in the Relationships – with our colleagues. (no matter the letters or lack of) There can be no lack actually – just an H a U an M an A an N. It is all hands on deck. It is respect for different ideas, thoughts and points of view. Health is in Recognizing – that sometimes others need more of our weight, our love, our skill, some days. This is not a fight – A competition. Sometimes the Health is Surrender. Surrender to greater powers that be. To things unfamiliar. Health is Connection – always. To our patients. To their eyes, their Spirit, fears, joy, grief, community, culture. It is one hell of a journey. Health is to Listen. A full body listen. It is trusting once again in our instincts. Because when all systems fail – what is left? Usually a story.

Sensitivity

Sensitivity – otherwise known as feeling deeply – I take the cake, as I know many others do. And I feel it has grown, as I’ve been traveling solo, now, since late 2019. First to distant lands — where life didn’t feel so, in your face; ie capitalism. – of course, I was not working then, and had space to just be. To go where the rivers guided me. There was something, to non Western society, that I cannot put my finger on exactly…but it kinda reminds me of the places I’ve voyaged, now, in the deep South. Places off the grid, so to speak. Where folks don’t walk on eggshells because, well, their shells have been cracked enough. Where kindness is the very rhythm, of people’s hearts – especially in black, impoverished and what some would still name, “redneck” communities. Where I have stopped and talked at a car wash (a whole other kinda car wash — like being in your own driveway with friends) and neighborhood bbq benefits (funny day) of love and crime and all things in between. A drink, offered at no charge, just as on dirt roads in Egypt. These are the exchanges of life, that are deeply felt — I think, because they’re meaningful; honest. Maybe when others have had to learn to *get by,* have gone through hardships, are uncared for by humans in power seats, the capacity for empathy, community(neighborly) and happiness expands.(I know this is a Both/And) I also know that banners, signs and black boxes are beautiful/symbolic — but, I’m not sure if they are so impactful. Truthfully, we sometimes think we know others, before we’ve had a chance to have an encounter. We assume, as well, we know what they want and need before asking the simple and inconvenient questions. I have tears now, feeling into, the way we have treated and are treating one other – The way we take on life and the humans in it, as if there is something to conquer/divide. Currently. The shaming. Punishment. Pretending. I do not not think it’s so much a system’s overhaul that we need, but an emotional one. A capacity to see, hear, leave our bubble. To stop for awhile, sit on a bucket. Elsewhere – and say, “So tell me.”

Notes from a Traveling Nurse

Last week, while on call, I cared for my first NICU babies.(in my Career) Honesty, when I arrived on the unit with my colleague,(Scrub Tech) as many babies are too sick to be transported to the OR, I thought I might lose it. Like faint — at first. It was hotter than the NM desert in July compared to the arctic air of the OR rooms. After arriving back into my body — sometimes when I get anxious, I can leave it, I felt I would lose it again — as in tears. And then, as a Health care provider does so well, we shift from emotion to focus; tending to the now, to the baby and everyone caring for this tiny 3 day old human attached to nonhuman things. Things that drip and beep and breathe — yes, do the breathing via a tube, for a child less fortunate to wail and breathe big breaths of life after exiting her young mother’s womb, too soon.

I have to be honest, I was overwhelmed by the size of the NICU here in this small city of Louisiana. 40 beds, to be precise and all but maybe 2, were occupied. It made me think about the dynamics of the community I currently reside in. Dynamics as in the demographics here — including education, wealth inequality, and crime. There are quite interesting familial patterns, I’ve come to learn about, through discussions with both Police Force and Health Care workers. Crime is very high — Domestic Violence being in the top 5(in the U.S.) here in Northern LA. Many kids have turned to the streets, and well, we know where this goes from here. Very young Mothers, being just one effect — a small outcome that turns into much larger and cyclical social outcomes.

We are all well aware that violence in our society is at an all time high, though many prefer to avert their eyes, cast judgement whether to the left or to the right. I mean this year(2021 is just a continuum, my friends) has been like one big dodge ball game, shit spinning in a fan — have been my two analogies — where everyone is either extremely reactive or have their heads in their asses. The latter don’t want shit hitting them in the face…but in reality they don’t recognize, they too, can be shitty human beings — yes, this goes for the Woke as F***, Yay Science and Trumpists fans too. It is a community, whether young or old, rich or poor, black or white, red or blue that holds us together. Unfortunately we’re like those little babies right now, on life support, attached to nonhuman things — waiting to be loved. Unified. Again.

A 2021 post (written 1/2/2021)

I’ve had a reunion, in this Pandemic, with all that really is. Or maybe that which really matters, to me — And I believe the Health of our planet depends on it.

It is relationship that prioritizes dusty roads, muddy rivers, animals and clouds too. It is the rocks and things. Bathing my dinner in sunlight before setting it atop a fire. It is deepened relationship to a small pod of Women… my Uncle too 😉 Via What’s app voice clips we shared our concerns, curiosity and insights. We listened. We learned. We beautifully tended to each other — from a distance, yes. Yet, somehow I feel more enriched than ever. I think they do too.

My wish is we all recognize we are all allies in creating a New World. It’s going to take listening 🎧, self healing, rebuilding. It’s going to take many minds and well intentioned hearts amongst unique and complex peoples. It will take seeing that uniqueness is what’s beautiful — and complexity too. It is going to take throwing your Gurus into the flames. Whether teacher, politician or fashionista.

This New World is going to ask who you really are and what are you here to do? It will ask you for courage, honesty, sovereignty. The new day will no where near, be comfortable — but you’ve made it through 2020. Right now, I’d say expect the unexpected.

much ease and beauty,
h.

Memos of a Current Travel Nurse -Louisiana-

I arrived in LA with this feeling of going backward. Then I thought: One person’s backward is another person’s forward. And maybe there really is no backward, only a continuum. Backward was something created by those on the upper rungs. Those from the moment the watch was invented, setting the timelines for us from Birth to Death.(though Death was never discussed) Many that are drinking the kool-aide, are yet to see the costs. Rather, we bought into the dream, like wide eyed kids playing with Barbie and Ken; bodies pale — until 1980. Shaped like no man or woman, in reality is — until one could buy the plastic with the dream. For most, climbing the rungs was and is the drive to live; Bandaids and Barbie Doll Houses, covering over, the holes in our hearts.

Almost a year into a Pandemic, we’re witnessing what is beneath the bandages. I have experienced images this year of not recovery, but surgery. Bandaids are no longer working — it’s a heart transplant that is underway. And transplants take time, steadiness and a team of beating hearts. One must be comfortable with a little mess and know when to take the right next steps. Maybe with our new hearts we’ll realize there is so much Love to go around. Perhaps in our next Global crisis we will recognize the importance of community, for Richer or Poorer. Black or White. Red or Blue. Looking at blood we know not what belongs to who.

With our new hearts in recovery may we renew our relationship with Mother Nature — knowing our health depends on it. Lastly, as we exit the hospital may we feel a sense of aliveness, compassion, and humility and offer these qualities to all those on our path…whether straight, curvy, backward, forward or on the continuum.

May we dare to dream our own dreams – Be well,

Three Texan Women. Three Dogs. And I. One Bathroom.

Two nights ago I sat on the edge of a bathtub, in Oak Cliff TX; (Dallas County) the second stop on my journey to Louisiana from New Mexico. A beautiful white dog with one eye crouched under my legs as three Texan Women and two more dogs took up floor and toilet space. (Not quite socially distanced — but you can probably imagine a Texan bathroom next to a NYC bathroom) The three women and I — A Pisces, Virgo, Leo and Libra (not sure about the dogs’ signs:) were riding out a Tornado. And not just a warning. Something Texans are used to; there was even a siren from downtown Dallas to sound its incoming. Also why do we say “Ride out a storm?” Why not Sit? Crouch? Run? Lol.

So much to say about these women and how they all happened to be/land or live on the current premises and how we gathered in one bathroom that unified us. The gift for me was this: this was my Thanksgiving. Two nights early — minus the food, a table, a familiar face, friends, family. Yet, I made another family, on this stormy night; two of which are now penpals. (I’ll speak on penpals later) Each of the women were around my Mother’s age with the exception of one and all have roughly, the same number of ex husbands.:) Currently all sans Husbands, including myself, as you know.

We spoke of everything under the sun, besides who we voted for. We spoke of my adventures since leaving NYC, fourteen months ago; Egypt really catching their ears. Southern women and their parents, beauty “ideals,” depression, addiction, The Covid 15, (that’s the extra weight) were topics also touched upon. We spoke about Texan old money and Texan new money and the current migration trend around the U.S. of A. We confirmed I must come back for cooking lessons with Claudine, who studied at Paris’s, Le Cordon Bleu at the age of 49. We all agreed, number’s do not matter. But damn, good food does!

To our surprise, it was an hour and a half later when we stood up and exited that lovely bathroom, me returning to my bungalow(airbnb) sans Three Texan women and Three dogs. Just I. What a Day of Thanks.

P.S. The 🌪️ touched down around 15 miles from us.

Pilgrimage

It’s so strange really, the insult, threat and even surprise we feel, when someone prays different, loves different, talks different, looks different — Chooses, different. The intolerance we hold in our hearts, when God speaks 6,500 languages. She probably doesn’t give a shit if we pray or don’t pray, as many that pray, only pretend. *Transaction* The word that comes to mind.

Those that truly pray, are intimately woven with *Reverence* The word that comes to heart. Smiling eyes of a stranger. Counting ten baby toes on a first born — Oh, the holiness of toes. It’s a kneel in the dirt. Fists sometimes pounding a pillow, for all that has seemed and seems unfair. It is screaming for something or someone lost. By the millions. It is to meet a new lover, a new friend and whisper, “I care.” It is to hold a sign that says, ”Enough is Enough.” It is remembering old friends and all they taught us. Showed us — and to let them know, they are part of the threads, back to our own Holiness.

Prayer is to know that all is Holy, all the time. And really, that there is no time — only the time that is passing before we too, become the dirt, we once kneeled in. The mountain we once climbed. The petals on a flower that we picked, asking, “Does he love me? Love me not.” Knowing the answer isn’t part of the prayer. That’s just it. Prayer is a humble surrender to the uncertain. The dark shadows in a forest, on a sunny day. It is not being over or under someone. It is my ten toes and your ten toes, if we’re lucky enough to have our feet, not blown off by war. On a Pilgrimage – Together – Sharing Beauty.

Onward Part II

Sometimes I think, how did I do It? Live in “isolation” i.e. in a rural land, 50 minutes away from a Whole Foods,(GASP) these past 6 months. But really, my soul needed it. My body. My heart. My brain..needed it. Sometimes we don’t know what our Selves need for nourishment because we’ve been so busy — Building, competing, looking down, purchasing, fighting, comparing, fixing, over serving, and yes, for many, just trying to survive — That we haven’t been open to life’s other invitations. They arrive in whispers, most of the time.

I have come to understand more and regard, not just my Valdez roots/DNA here, but feel into all those, whose land, this first belonged to. Or shall I say, that which was beheld and honored by, taken care of, and lived by. It was a way; a way in which we have lost. I have had my breath taken away on more than one occasion as I’ve driven the open roads, climbed mountains and gazed into infinite desert space/color. Colors that brought me to tears. Light that wiped them away. I will miss the sage brush rolling in the winds, talking to the Ravens and all those other birds that made their way inside my home. Haha. Animals come to know us…you know?!?

I will miss the classic cars, mostly the trucks. The lift of a couple fingers off the wheel or a nod of a cowboy’s hat, to say “hello.” I see you. How do you do? I will miss the warmth of people here — at the gas station, the DMV,(yup!) the Co-op,Taco line, and in the Starbucks drive thru; especially the later. I have so enjoyed our brief and sweet life conversations. I will miss random hikers and will never forget being given an apple and a bar from a woman on her way back down the mountain and to the young man in the air force, I had the honor of climbing the last bit up with. I will miss the Post Office woman and no lines. Hah! I will miss the music, sometimes on a Friday evening, of one of my neighbors — Some country. Other times, Mexican Blues.

With that said, I feel there will be no shortage of music in Louisiana.

Be well.

Onward

Well, looks like Retirement — 🌊 1, is about to come to an end. I guess I never felt so strong about this word. Retirement. But this wasn’t the first and it won’t be the last. I will retire to many beach chairs, tables, beds, cities, ranches, countries, states. I will break bread with many people. This I know. It’s why I’m here. To break bread. To listen to stories; something that was quite a deficit in our family, as my Uncle and I just conversed about yesterday. I also know, I’m here to express and share those stories, both theirs and mine –This does not exclude the stories of the land/the sea where I may lay my head. It is as important or more so than the people. Think about that for a minute – Or day. To be in reverence with land, is to be a kinder — more humane human. Whether you’re a human that wants to be left alone or like ants marching (insert Dave Mathews) on colorful city streets, it’s quite the same. Just different music.

Honestly I’d be quite content never donning my Operating Room bouffant again. AND, I know, I will be content in doing so. It will look different as I’ve mentioned. I look different now. Feel different now. Being the curious tot, as my friend in Scotland says, especially around Medicine — How it’s practiced, who’s participating, what does it mean to do what we do, for another, and does it matter Red State or Blue State, gives this career all the more intrigue. Meaning.

This woman here, she’s also got some #goals, though I think I like the word dreams/visions better. Goals sound as rigid as retirement. So, with that said (insert the drums) I will begin my first, Travel Nurse assignment on the last day of this month. In LA. Not to be confused with L.A. It is a place that called me first. Perhaps because I spent time there when I was a child and have very little memories, expect for certain smells. Isn’t that interesting? And something I’m sure many will understand. Some of you will say, “But you love NM,” and my answer is, She will be my anchor. ⚓ Ojo Caliente, is after all, the Crone Energy and She is included in my vision. 😉

Much love and of course more to come….💞