If This Were So, So Were It Uttered

I have 30 days now till the end of nursing school and the beginning of the rest of my life.  And tomorrow is the deciding test of whether or not I will actually graduate, so what should I do?  Give this follow up post as promised of course!  I completed reading Much Ado About Nothing Sunday night and have found I greatly enjoyed at least this of Shakespeare's many plays.  My understanding of it based on the Mumford and Sons' song and a brief perusing  of google and sparknotes was... passable.  Though there are many intricacies I missed, but found upon reading.

A brief synopsis will be useful here, but I do believe there to be better ones else where on the internet.  Following a successful war where few men of importance were killed a prince, named Claudio, and his friend Benedick return to Messina.  Claudio feels the need to settle down and meet a good woman with a good name and goes about it in classic style, having someone else pass the word to the girl he wishes to woo to her at a masked ball.

It should be noted, now,  that apparently, 'Nothing' in the original dialect and accent sounded like noting, so there is a play on words in the title.  All of the characters make rash decision based on things they over hear, or note, when they shouldn't or when others arrange for them to "accidentally" note a tidbit of information.  Hence, there occurs in the course of the play, much ado about 'noting' which amounts to nothing.

So, Claudio notes, from the villainous Don John the Bastard and his cronies, the false story that Hero, his love interest, has been unfaithful.  He swallows this hard until the day of the wedding and lets the barbs fly causing Hero to pass out and appear dead.  Long story short, she was not dead. Dogberry, the laughable hero and fumbling constable, saves the day, and Hero and Claudio are reunited at the end in a double wedding.

A double wedding?

Why, yes, I am glad you ask.  While Claudio and Hero provide the back bone of the story, their personages are static and don't change; playing what I imagine to be the classic love story of the time (and today): Love.  Misunderstanding. Resolution. Love.  This is seen so often today that for me it was rather lack-luster.

Now, Benedick and Beatrice.  That's a different story all together.  They are both dead set on never, ever, ever, being with anyone.  In fact, Beatrice says, "I had rather hear my dog bark at a crow than a man swear he loves me."  And Benedick in his turn states, "May I be so converted and see with those eyes (here he addresses Claudio's recent fall into love)?  I cannot tell; I think not.  I will not be sworn but Love may transform me to an oyster, but i'll take my oath on it, till he have made an oyster of me, he shall never make me such a fool."

Benedick's last line occurs just prior to Don Pedro and Claudio arranging for him to over hear the false report of Beatrice's love for him.  It is during this exchanged that the title of the song comes into play, a troubadour named Balthasar sings the words, "Sigh no more, ladies... men were deceivers ever, one foot in sea one on shore".  So, here, Benedick notes that Beatrice indeed loves him.  Mere minutes after daring love to turn him into an oyster he states, "When I said I would die a bachelor, I did not think I should live till I were married"... "I do spy some marks of love in her."  Does she "Love me? it must be requited."  And Beatrice, for her part, says after noting Benedick's love for her says "Contempt, farewell, and maiden pride, adieu!...And Benedick, love on; I will requite thee, taming my wild heart to thy loving hand."

Actually, this grows too long.  And I do feel the need to study.  I will finish this up at a later date.  How's that for a dramatic pause!

The Beauty of Love As It Was Made to Be

With but 40 days of nursing school left, and a paucity of motivation, I have recently re/discovered a Mumford and Sons' song which takes inspiration from Shakespeare's play, Much Ado About Nothing.  I listened to it, and felt it.  I felt it like one feels a breeze, or the tide.  And like a wind or the tide can move you, so this song did me.

So, here, presently, I will present my thoughts on the song, then, after a period, I will locate and read the play, Much Ado About Nothing, write again my thoughts on that, followed finally by Joss Whedon's film version.

Serve God, love me and mend

This is not the end

Live unbruised, we are friends

And I'm sorry

I'm sorry

Sigh no more, no more

One foot in sea, one on shore

My heart was never pure

And, you know me

You know me

But man is a giddy thing

Oh, man is a giddy thing

Oh, man is a giddy thing

Oh, man is a giddy thing

Love, it will not betray you

Dismay or enslave you, it will set you free

Be more like the man you were made to be

There is a design, an alignment 

A cry of my heart to see

The beauty of love as it was made to be.

According to a quick google search, the second verse is the quote from the play.  It speaks to the giddy nature of man; one foot in a ship, yearning to enact the listless life of sailors; whoring women, whoring ports of call, and callous, thoughtless experiences, and the other foot on the shore, ready to love one land, one woman, one experience.  My heart was never pure.  

"My heart was never pure, " he said to his exasperated lover.  "You knew that when we started out on this journey."  This is not an excuse, nor a cop-out.  This is a heartfelt acknowledgment of guilt, of a profound, roots deep problem. 

Then, his lover exclaims love to him.  Urging him to be the man he was made to be.  Saying, "Sure, you fucked up, and it sucks.  But you are not bound to that."  

Oh! And then with despair, hope, repentance, desire,  and fear he cries the most religious word: "Yes!"  There is something there, a design, a tugging in my heart, to know what it is to stand with both feet on the shore.  "I want to love one woman, one land, one story, one life."

Then, ad infinitum.  Until it takes.  His lover replies, "Serve God, love me and mend.  This is not the end.  Live unbruised, we are friends."  

"I'm sorry."

I'm sorry. 

Paralysis of Choice

Matching socks, or not?  Tennis shoes, or boots?  Clean underwear, or... meh?  These are all decisions with which I am comfortable struggling on a daily basis.  I understand how to make them, have made them many times before, and understand the consequences of each.  But what happens when a choice comes a long that one is wholly un-prepared to make?

Paralysis of choice, I believe originates with Barry Schwartz (check out his TED talk about the very thing Barry Schwartz). The general idea is that choice, which is 'supposed' to bring freedom to individuals actually finishes by taking away a certain amount of freedom by locking us in an impossible space where the very ubiquity of choice leads to to choice being made.

For me, it's a question of missing out.  FOMO.  Look it up Urban Dictionary.  

There are SO many fields in nursing from which I could pick!  ER, ICU, Med-surg, peds, oncology, labor and delivery, to pursue or not to pursue NP, or CRNA, or DNP... the list is huge... and they all seem promising to me.

We've been asked to make our desires known for our capstone placement this summer.  A capstone project is the culmination of all the work in nursing school and provides each student with a significant (albeit safe) amount of autonomy, and an ability to practice one-on-one with a preceptor without half a dozen, or more, other students vying for attention from the same over-worked nurse.

And on top of all that, we're meant to choose between different institutions, too.  Stay in town, or go to Indianapolis, or Bloomington or else where.  And to make these decisions a third of the way through the second to last semester having not experienced everything we will experience!  We hear stories all the time about nurses being hired to the very unit they in which they did their capstone, too.

The resume that is turned in to each hospital to which we apply asks what our one year, five year, and ten year plans are.  I wanna say, "Hell if I know."  But can't.  So I throw in words that look good to those hospitals, like "becoming an expert in my field", or "prioritization", and the holy grail of catch phrases, "evidence based practice".

I have no idea how to make this decision.  And what of the consequences?  Is this setting up the rest of my career as a nurse, or am I just over thinking it?  Either way, to many choices.  Just tell me what to do.

Please.

A Stones Throw

I watched two lumpectomies, a knee scope, and two cholecystectomies today.

Wow.

I am amazed at what we, humans, have accomplished in the few short years we have been moving about on this planet.  The surgeon literally pulled a patient's stone filled gallbladder through a tiny incision in the abdomen; threaded a drainage tube through another tiny hole and out another; I shook my head in wonder.  

Really something else... 

A Message From Others

I am sitting in the library delaying the necessary finishing touches for a paper due tonight at 2359 and remembering a few tid-bits of remarkable wisdom I've recently found written by others involved in the pursuit of a career in medicine.  I found these thoughts to be enlightening at the very most, curious definitely, and maybe just a little pretentious and too highly intellectual to hold any water in the real world... maybe.

The first, found here, at Partners in Health, was written by a young man who had been part of several not for profits and spent several years on the front lines.  He was later diagnosed with cancer and these were some of his thoughts.  I don't pretend to have the time to write well about this, so I will just quote him directly and leave you to your own ends to imagine and dialogue with his thoughts. The quote comes after he has been sitting with an older man in an emergency department with a broken hip.  The older man shares his meal with the volunteer. "Moments like these continue to deepen my understanding of what it means to embrace the non-doing.  It's come to mean being brave enough to disarm myself, to set aside my intellectual firepower and self-protective shields, and to enter into another's chaos-- not to do for them, but to simple be with them."

The next one comes from a 4th year medical student at Indiana University.  Here is the link.  This one is slightly less applicable, but still a unique thought.  He claims that a person is essentially his desires, intentions, or volition.  He builds a metaphor of maze and his interaction with it.  He, the physical body stands at the beginning of the maze, willing himself to move through the maze to the end.  His goal, mind, psyche, soul, intentions, are at the end of the maze.  The means to that end are navigating the maze.  So, he says, " I stand as a soul at the end, waiting for my body to catch up, hoping it goes about things in the right way."

Happy Today; Where and Who You Are

I am a rain drop.

Not entire of myself, but

composed.

Composed of many.

And, I alone am nothing, but

with others I bring 

Life.

&

Death.

I am a rain drop.

Dropped Like a Bad Habit

I clipped into my peddles and ambled my way ten miles north to Hawthorne Park where there was already quite a crowd of similarly spandexed, highly invested, cyclists.  I want to emphasize the word cyclist here.  These were not ride on the sidewalk to buy a beer at the gas station 'people on bicycles', these were ready to ride cyclists.  Jerseys, and water bottles, and those strange, disgusting tasting goey packets of... what ever those things are made of.

Promptly at 6 o'clock we roll out of the park and onto the bike trail.  The peleton is 40 or 50 strong, more than I have ever ridden with.  We coast evenly down the bike trail and a small boy on a bike squeals at us to go faster, but we can't because of the cramped quarters.  However, once we hit the main road the pace quickens.

I was beside myself with joy for the close spacing, the speed and with what ease that speed was maintained. Handlebars inches from other handle bars, my front tire dangerously close to the rear tire in front of me.  Adrenaline pumping and pulse quickening. I was over excited.  I was over excited and leading all 50 riders.  Pace lines were formed I fell in line and paced in third or fourth place for a long time.  Twice pulling after a quick downhill.  I felt like I was on top of the world.

Soon, within an hour we had doubled the distance it had taken me to get to the park and from nowhere the pace skyrocketed.  I was able to stay on the tail end of the mob but when I looked back no one else was to be found.  The 50 riders had shrunk to maybe 20.  I asked what had happened to the rest and which group I found myself in.

"Oh" they said, "you're with the quick group, the medium and slow group peeled of a while ago."

Great.  I thought to myself.  I had had every intention of sticking with the medium group.  And now I find myself sucking wind behind the fastest group of riders I have ever been with.  And yet I was still able to stick with the tail end of the group until the hills.  Oh the hills.

The hills on McDaniel turned my already fatigued legs into mush and I fell out for good.  I managed by the skin of my teeth to inform one of the other riders that I would not be returning to the Park but instead was on may way home to lick my wounds.

I peeled away and turned west on Springhill, but a few miles from home, with an ear to ear grin shining out from beneath my helmet.