After Easter

After Easter and all the gratitude that it brings, I find myself quickly turning back to fear. We’ve celebrated a holiday of the victorious resurrection of Christ, and yet I’m falling back into the grave of my concern. Jesus died to set us free, so why do I try to hold on to my fleeting control? 

Sorry to start this post so heavy. Let me back it up a few days to give a clearer picture. On Friday, I had a routine MD visit. Now that I’m 27, I have to start having a CA-125 tumor marker drawn, just to ensure there is no hidden cancer lurking around. This is the new normal for me and my journey with Lynch. Preventative visit after preventative visit. 

I came out of the appointment pretty positive. The lab tech had a challenge with my veins and had to stab me a total of three times, but she was finally successful. I was feeling calm about everything the doctor and I discussed. 

Flash forward to today, and my stressful work day. My brain has been going in a myriad of directions, and just when I think I can’t possibly handle anymore, I start to think about all that can possibly go wrong. I’ve “taken the control” and placed it back in my hands. 

In my hands, control looks like fear of an undiagnosed enemy. In my hands, control looks like succumbing to physical problems. In my hands, control really isn’t control, but instead the most vulnerable, uncontrolled place I could be. 

I don’t think it is coincidence that my battle with fear today is right after Easter. The Easter story is about our victorious Jesus. It is about all what was completed and defeated when he stepped out of that grave. 

You see, Jesus endured a brutal death for us. Jesus didn’t do anything to deserve that treatment. He healed the sick, welcomed women into acceptance, and loved those that would be considered unlovable. The very people He came to help turned their back on Him. Yet, He endured it all with us in mind. I like to think that He looked a few thousand years ahead and saw a hopeless, poor Kentucky girl, and thought to Himself, “If I don’t do this, she’ll be forever lost. If I don’t do this, she will never know victory. If I don’t do this, she will never know love. She desperately needs me, and if I don’t do this, she will be desperately lost.” I believe He thought the same of you, as well. He paid the ultimate price for me and you. 

Understanding Easter means we understand what Jesus defeated for us, and it means living each day in that victory. If we truly understood each day what He accomplished for us, what would we fear? If we truly grasped what He did for us, why wouldn’t we walk in victory? Why would we bury ourselves in the cares of our current situation? 

I may only be writing this for me, but I encourage everyone reading this to not just remember the resurrection a few days of the year. Don’t forget on the hard days what was done for you when Jesus rose. Jesus wants us to live in victory—even when it’s hard, even when those lab tests are still pending, and even when it is after Easter. 

Feeling Like A Bad Nurse

When I was 19, my whole world changed. My grandpa, my best friend, passed away from Alzheimer’s disease. He had fallen in his nursing home, broken his neck, and sustained a head injury. In all honesty, now working in the long term care industry, I can’t blame them. Falls happen all the time. Even when you have what feels like 500 fall interventions just short of a one-on-one sitter. He was mobile, and loved moving furniture around. It was a losing battle. 

Flash forward a few years to my own journey in nursing. I exited nursing school with starry eyes, anticipating taking the world by storm, and healing every person that somewhat reminded me of my grandpa. I soon found out, though, nursing is not a fairy tale. 

I’m not bashing the company I work for (just as a side bar, I’ve got no problem with them, they treat me well). My concern is with nursing as a whole. Nurses everywhere fight a battle with how many patients they can safely manage with serious conditions. I’ve worked with some amazing nurses in different settings and companies—but many times they are pushed too far with what they can and should handle. Factor in supply cost issues, the dreaded insurance world, medication cost and availability, and a lack of staff to work those extra shifts, and you’ve got the perfect storm. 

On the particularly challenging days, I hesitate to admit, I question why I entered this profession in the first place. I wonder if that’s ok to admit? Does this make me a bad nurse? Does this mean I don’t care about people or the sick? I look around to see more forced smiles like mine. 

At the end of the day, I believe all nurses wish they could do more. I wish I could have had a successful code, but instead I have exited a room to a devastated family. I wish I didn’t have to rush someone to the ICU, or the ER in my current setting, without clear answers. I wish I could prevent every mishap or misstep people make, but people are human, just as I am. 

I’m not saying all this to earn sympathy. There are many nurses that work far harder than I do, and many that experience more challenges than I do. My point in this is to explain that healthcare is dark right now. It’s so challenging on more levels than I could possibly explain. We need more support than ever, and we need more people willing to fill this role than ever. 

So, I challenge everyone reading this to help in one of two ways. The first is to thank a nurse or healthcare worker when receiving care. Having been on both sides, you never know what the person serving you and caring for you is going through themselves. If they’re doing their best for you, do your best for them. The second is if you have an inkling to help people, get into nursing! We need more of you. And if you are a nurse, as I’m telling myself today—we need you. Keep caring when it’s hard, get attached even if you know what the end result is. Help heal the family, not just the person. Most importantly—never forget who or what’s driving you. Whether it’s your version of my grandpa story, your awesome coworkers, or simply the idea of making one person’s day brighter—don’t forget it.