the healer's art

I was sitting on a pew in a dark chapel watching the General Relief Society Broadcast with my mom and sisters last fall.  After they announced the closing song and prayer I leaned over and whispered to Jana that the lady giving the closing prayer had been my very favorite nursing professor at BYU.  Her name was Sandra Rogers.  I looked forward to every one of her lectures.  She was amazing.

 Fast forward to December, I was sitting in my parents basement surrounded by my family and we were opening Christmas presents.  It was my turn to open my present from Jana.  Inside the envelope was the sweetest note and a ticket to the upcoming BYU College of Nursing Anniversary Extravaganza, where the featured guest speaker was none other than Sandra Rogers.   

 It was one of the nicest gifts I have ever received.

Fast forward to April, where Jana and I  and hopped in the car and headed to BYU, to our Alma Mater, to the great college of Nursing that we each called home for 2 years.

 We were excited.

 

Never mind that we think we were the only ones who didn't get the memo to dress up. 

Nope, it didn't bother us a bit as we whipped in and out of the classes and activities and a very fancy dinner in our jeans. 

 

 

One of our first stops was the good old Spencer W. Kimball tower, otherwise know as the SWKT, where we spent the majority of our time as students.  We wandered down to the basement and took this picture outside of the learning lab.  Behind those doors is where we got down to the nitty gritty of nursing (each in our own year).  We gave bed baths to our fellow classmates, practiced our intramuscular injections on each other, (after we had graduated from performing the injection on oranges) and it is where we endured having  nasogastric tubes inserted down our noses into our stomachs by other students. I can still feel it coiling down my throat.

  It was awful. 

 

We wandered around looking at the different offices, to see if any of our old teachers were still there.  There was a handful that were still teaching.  One of them was our ICU/Critical Care semester teacher.  Outside her door this worksheet was hanging.  We both looked at it, looked at each other and then looked at it again.  Did we really used to know how to do that kind of stuff?  I couldn't do any of that now.  But we obviously could back then.  I actually think I got my best grades that semester.  We then patted each other on the back.  We are two smart cookies.  OK, we WERE two smart cookies, back in the day.

After some great lectures, some BYU Bookstore fudge consumption, and lots of reminiscing we headed to the banquet.  We were impressed with the BYU china, the hologram glass gift and the fancy dessert with the BYU nursing logo printed right on the cheesecake.  And then I was transformed back in time as I listened to Sandra Rogers speak.   Her compassion and love of nursing touched me then and it still touches me now.  I could have listened to her all night.

 

I am so grateful for the education I received at BYU.  I truly did learn the healer's art.  In fact, I can't listen to or sing that song without a flood of memories from nursing school coming back.  I love how into every facet of my nursing education there was so much spirituality woven into all we did and everything we learned.  I felt close to the spirit as I listened and watched and learned how to care for all kinds of  people. I learned patience and compassion, I witnessed some things that few people are privileged to see.  As I watched patients give birth, undergo painful procedures, fight mental demons or take their last breath I was moved and felt a deeper appreciation for the plan of salvation, for God's hand in everything, and for the amazing opportunities that awaited me in this field that I had chosen.  I loved everything about my years on BYU campus, my years in the fabulous nursing program that helped me become what I am today.  Nursing is a part of me; the healer's art is a gift I am truly grateful for.  I love being a nurse.

 And I love my sister for letting me relive it all.

high school

A Christmas tradition at good ole AF High School is for the Student Body Officers to each perform a dare in front of all the students if the school raises enough money for the annual sub-for-santa fundraiser. This year they far exceeded their goals, and so the SBO dares were set in motion. Let me just share some of those dares:

* Eating a plate full of jalapeno peppers

* Swallowing (and chewing) live goldfish

* Being shot at close range with paint balls

* Eating a dog food and a cat food sandwich

* Licking, yes, I said LICKING, the entire perimeter of the gym

*Or how about having 10 people brush their teeth and spit in a cup and then drinking that cup?

I am not kidding.

Kara, at dinner one night, said, "Mom, I don't think you're going to let me do my dare." I replied, "Probably not if it's anything like the others I have heard about." She hesitated and then said, "My dare is going to school for one entire day handcuffed to MY MOTHER!" I immediately said, "I'll do it!" I would have done just about anything to assist my daughter in avoiding some of those other dares.

I knew the purpose of this dare was to embarrass her, so the question became "What should I wear?" We discussed several options. How about my pajamas and big fuzzy slippers? Old lady clothes? My threadbare duster? As we were talking, still at the dinner table, with each suggestion Tyler's face grew more horrified. "You CANNOT wear that! You wouldn't DARE wear that!" Just for fun we threw out the idea of me wearing a sign that said 'I'm Tyler's mom too!' At that he just got up and walked out, completely unable to handle the conversation any further.

We tried on several outfits, practiced an annoying walk in case we walked by Tyler in the hall, and finally decided to go matchy matchy with coordinating side ponytails.

And then we headed off to High School...together, hand in hand cuffed hand.

I felt like I was stepping back in time.

Waaaay back in time.

Our first class was World Religions (Kara's very favorite class). I knew my purpose was to embarrass her and so I whispered in her ear that I wanted a picture in every single class. Why I wanted one, I don't know. I really really don't suit a side pony tail.

Now, I am a person who likes to multi-task, and the week before Christmas is a very busy time, so I had brought my backpack along filled with stuff to do. During this class I was getting a little bored (it was kind of over my head anyways, all that deep ancient religious stuff) so I pulled out my Christmas newsletter to work on.

And I totally got in trouble!

The teacher stopped right in the middle of his lecture and pointed out that he doesn't let his students work on anything during a lecture. The class was silent as I sheepishly stuffed my papers back into my backpack. It totally brought back memories of when my Spanish 3 teacher duct-taped my mouth shut for talking too much (By the way, Kara just informed me that she too has had her mouth duct-taped shut by a teacher!).

After I survived my tongue-lashing we shuffled out into the hall. Kara told me we were in what all the students called the "Birth Canal." I was fascinated. And so, of course, I pulled out my camera and started taking pictures of the birth canal. She was mortified. She looked at me and said, "You're like a TOURIST in high school." And that's exactly what I was. A tourist. And what tourist wouldn't want a picture of the famous Birth Canal Hall? I know I sure did. And I definitely got one; in fact, I got plenty.

We were eventually pushed out of the dreaded birth canal and made our way into the front office where Kara has to do the announcements each day. I was very obedient and sat very quietly as she carried out her Student Body responsibilities. After my mishap in the first class I didn't want any more trouble.

Because we had to do announcements, we were late to our next class: Foods. It is awkward enough to walk into a class late, it is beyond awkward when you walk in late handcuffed to your mother dressed like a child from the 80's. But Kara was taking it all in stride. I lucked out because in Foods it was a free lab. Kara's group was making grilled cheese sandwiches and chocolate chip cookies (Weird combo, but OK). We donned our aprons and began to cook.

I really couldn't believe this class. It was nothing like the Foods classes I took in High School. Look at that! Tablecloths and place mats. They even had an ice dispenser machine. It was awesome.

Here is our cooking group. Kara was once again mortified when apparently I asked the big, popular, cute basketball star to snap this here picture for us. Embarrassing! How was I supposed to know?

After this class I really really had to go to the bathroom. Are you kidding? I usually have a bladder of steel and according to all of my kids, you never use the school bathroom. We devised a plan. We walked into the bathroom and then quickly unlocked ourselves with the special key I had tucked in my backpack for just such an emergency. I took care of business and then we hooked back up. What we didn't anticipate was all the people who saw us walking out of the bathroom handcuffed together. They were looking at us kind of weird. We quickly headed down the hall avoiding any and all eye contact.

Our next class was AP English. I was pleasantly surprised to find out we were having a white elephant party and that my sweet Kara had brought a present for me to contribute so that I could participate. Of course I drew lucky #1 , so up we went to pick the first gift. I didn't end up with what I picked first, but that is OK because I love what I got.

Here is my gift.

"Shave with me Barbie," compliments of Kara's teacher (That is real hair under her arm and on her legs, don't ask me how. Sick!). I obviously had to show everyone who we talked to after this class my big win. They were equally disgusted and interested. Kara was, once again, embarrassed at my excitement over my hairy barbie.

Apparently, these days in High School, you don't eat lunch at lunch time. You just hang out by the lockers and talk. This got boring to me after a while so I pulled Kara away and told her we needed to go find Tyler who had sworn he was going to eat in a different place because he was literally dying at the thought of me being at his school, and dying even more at the thought of actually seeing us. It took some time, but we found him and suceeded in embarasssing him practically to death.

It was great.

We then had only a few minutes to frantically finish our homework before AP Calculus. Here, I am acting like I am helping. Yeah right. Me and math. I don't think so (see, I told you they don't eat).

Here we are in our last class of the day, AP Calc. I was blown away. How are these kids so smart? How do they even understand what this man is talking about? It has definitely been a long, long time since my days in Senior Math where we learned how to balance a checkbook. Those were the good old days.

So, what did I learn from my day at High School? I learned my daughter is a flirt, just like I was back in the day. I learned that she is kind and friendly to EVERYONE, to Sophomores, Juniors, and Seniors. To nerds and pops and jocks and all those somewhere in betwen. To her brother and his friends and to boys with beards (I'm serious-full on fluffy beards!). I learned that my girl has awesome teachers and that she truly enjoys school and learning. And I learned that it is really uncomfortable to be in handcuffs ALL day long. Seriously uncomfortable.

The last thing we heard as we walked out of the school together was one girl saying to another girl, "I would literally shoot myself if I had to go to school with my mom."

We smiled as our handcuffs happily jingled on our way out the doors of the High School. Kara wasn't going to shoot herself, nope, not at all. It had been a good day. Actually, a really good day for all 3 of us. A great girl, her old mom, and a stubble-ridden barbie.

I would recommend it to every parent.

I think I'll go ask Tyler what day he wants me to come. This time it will be pj's and fuzzy slippers for sure! I may even throw in some hair curlers just to be funny!

He will probably DIE laughing.

when I die

Kara thought she was so funny taking this picture of me one Sunday afternoon.

"Blog that", she said.

And so I am.

It is not a secret that I read obituaries. I admit it freely. I read them every day.

The habit started years ago while working as a nurse on the critical care unit. You see, back then I practically knew all of them. Okay, not really, but very often I saw the obit of someone I had taken care of, one of my patients, someone I knew. Sadly, when you are a nurse you are connected to death whether you want to be or not. And so, I read about death and the lives behind those faces, and the people they left behind. And I continue to do so today, even though I don't know as many any more.

My one pet peeve about obituaries is when they don't say how they died or what they died from. I know it is a personal preference, but every time they don't mention it the nurse in me screams,

"What did you die from? I have got to know!"

And so Trevor has been given very strict and specific orders. He knows that no matter what I die from he will print it in my obituary. I have told him that even if it is something really embarrassing (like an infected pimple on my hind end) it will be there, loud and clear, so no one is left wondering.

And then I can be buried in peace,

me and that darn infected pimple.

Black Hawk

I was invited to go to girls camp this year as the "camp nurse." I haven't been to girls camp since I was 17 years old. That was a long time ago and girls camp has changed a lot since then. And I mean a lot.

This was Kara's last year at camp, so I agreed to be the nurse. I agreed so that I could watch her, so I could commune with nature, so I could hone my nursing skills and so I could sleep in a tent and not bathe for a week. (I hated that last part when I was 17 and I still hate it now.) But they needed a nurse, so I packed my bag, charged my electric toothbrush and I headed for the hills.

Kara was an amazing YCL. I thoroughly enjoyed watching her lead her girls. She read scriptures with them, she talked with them, she laughed with them. She set up a tent with them.

I, on the other hand, was busy doing important nursing things. Like introducing the girls to Tillie, our camp mascot.

Tillie and I met at DI a few weeks before camp. I was actually looking for a bone to use in my mock disaster and I stumbled upon a whole pile of bones which turned out to be Tillie. Instead of taking her apart and using just pieces of her, I decided to put a bow on her head, add some google eyes and eyelashes and bring her along. She was a great addition to camp Black hawk.










Every day Tillie could be found in a new place. Sitting in a camp chair by the fire, lying in someones sleeping bag, hanging out by the food table eating gummy bears (as in the picture above) or soaring over the secret sister depository Superman style. Tillie felt right at home at camp and everyone enjoyed having her there. I'm glad she came.

Other than bringing Tillie, I was in charge of the mock disaster with Kara. We planned out the scenarios, brought the props, gave the YCL actors their scripts and then we let the disasters begin. Here the girls are taking care of a bear and snake attack victim, who also had been hiking in the snow and had hypothermia, poor thing.

This one fell in the fire and burned her hands. The screaming and writhing was so believable. I think she scared some of the Beehives.

Honestly, Kara deserved an Oscar for her performance as a compound leg fracture victim who had just fallen out of a tree. (Do you see the little bone sticking out of her jeans?)
The girls did great and successfully treated all of the victims at all six stations. (Most likely due to the incredible pre-camp first aid lessons they received.)

It wasn't all blood and guts though. We had time for a few other activities.

Like glitter nails. (Trevor laughed out loud when he saw this picture.)

Or how about making flower clips. Yes, that is a glue gun in the lower left corner. Yes, we brought a generator for our glue guns. (Okay, now Trevor really laughed, where's the stick whittling or fish gutting, a far cry from his rugged Scout camp!)

We did do some campy things, like a big long hike. At this point in the hike I started singing "Climb Every Mountain" at the top of my lungs. (Do you think I will get invited back next year?)

We also did a little canoeing. That's outdoorsy, right?

Despite the lack of sleep, greasy hair and pasty white face with no makeup (notice I did not include any pictures of myself in this post) I had a fabulous time with these girls and the wonderful women who lead them. I ate well, talked til late in the night, laughed a lot, and felt the spirit often.

And thankfully, my prayers were answered and I only needed to perform minimal nursing care.

I especially loved spending the week with my Kara. Her girls camp days are over. Where does the time go? I was grateful to be a part of her last camp experience.

We are a good team.

We are friends.

We are campers! (at least I keep telling myself that)

I feel...

I feel sore, so sore.

I feel tired.

I feel bruised.

I feel bloated.

I feel overwhelmed.

I feel a little cranky.

I feel like I have hardly seen my kids.

I feel stressed as I watch Trevor play mom and dad.

I also feel grateful.

I feel the human body is pretty amazing.

I feel happy to live in a day with modern medicine and competent surgeons.

I feel so thankful for my sister and her husband.

I feel so very loved and cared for.

I just really feel blessed.

Basically, I feel like I had an emergency appendectomy 3 days ago.

I wish I felt different.

But I don't!