The one who cares

 

Last spring my sister graduated from high school. My parents threw a spectacular graduation party on our newly remodeled backyard patio. I invited some of my close friends, and “M” was one of them. I stood awkwardly in my black dress, not knowing whether or not I should to attempt to socialize with my sister’s friends. I decided to make a beeline for the bathroom. I always hide in the bathroom when I feel out of sorts. Right before my third hurried step in the direction of the restroom, “M” strolled in. He was the first of my friends to arrive. The others had all texted me with some elaborate excuses for why they were running late. No doubt, they didn’t want to be the first ones to arrive at this haphazard, potentially awkward family gathering.

“M” was dressed up for the occasion. He handed my sister an unwrapped present. It was a UChicago Sweatshirt (the school she would be attending that fall). Upon spotting me, he walked over.

After the party my Grandmother asked me about “M”. No one had informed her of any juicy information, she just happened to be smitten with him. She kept insisting: “He’s sweet on you”. In her world, guys and gals don’t date. Guys are simply “sweet on” girls.

Finally I cracked.

“Why are you so adamant that he is ‘sweet on me’…” I cautiously inquired.

“I can tell from the way he looks at you” She replied softly.

Return to Nantucket

We ventured back to the magical island of Nantucket. And found that the island still possessed the same charm and mystery.

The ferry ride was beautiful…

Upon arriving we made a mad dash for the Juice Bar

I ordered cookie dough ice cream in a waffle cone. My sister Jay was more adventurous and ordered chocolate chip peanut butter cookie dough. Yes it really is a flavor. I don’t remember much about Jay’s, except that Reese’s Pieces were lodged in the creamy goodness.

Clam Chowder was enjoyed later that evening…

And plenty of visits to the beach occurred…

I took my first Zumba class while in Nantucket at The Studio. I somehow managed to convince my sister to accompany me. To sum up the experience. I will leave you with some of Jay’s words: “That was the most fun I’ve had all vacation”. Our teacher Kate was super friendly, encouraging, and a wonderfully talented dancer. It was such a unique class, with only six attendees total. One male and five females. The dance room was small. We danced to a mix of current hits, oldies, and salsa. My favorite song was the Cotton Eyed Joe (it brought back tons of great memories!). I would deff do Zumba again, here in Chicago.

We stayed at the lovely Union Street Inn

A very quaint Inn where they have free snacks in the kitchen from 3pm-5pm.

In one store on the Island I saw a T-shirt that said:

” IN LIFE YOU CAN CHOOSE TWO PATHS: THE PATH OF LEAST RESISTANCE. OR THE PATH YOU CAN’T RESIST.

NEVER RESIST! ”

Until next time Nantucket….Luv,

L

I am a quitter

Sometimes things go wrong.

I’m allowed to screw up.

I can’t be perfect.

I thought I wanted to be a nurse.

I started classes this fall.

I wrote this long personal statement…(don’t I sound convincing!???)

I was put on this planet to be a pediatric nurse. My aspiration emerged during my formative years. As a child, I adored the Franklin Institute’s giant walkthrough heart. Whenever I finished one journey through the pumping organ, I would simply start at the beginning again. As a child, the giant heart was the only exhibit that held my interest. As I matured, my love for health related topics and the human body flourished. Both my parents are physicians, so the first time I was invited to dinner at a friend’s house, I found it supremely unusual that her family’s dinner conversations did not consist of medicine, hospital, and science talk.

I was also put on this earth to be a mother. The professions of nurse and mother possess many similarities. Both involve relieving others of hardship. Additionally, never ending compassion and kindness are also necessary. I yearn to interact with hospital patients, especially kids. The task of growing up is difficult, and I want to make the ride smoother. I want to mollify the pain of every child that walks into a hospital. I need to devote my life to making children feel better. I have worked as a camp counselor at a summer camp. I am certain that I had a bond with the group of fifteen rambunctious six-year olds that my co-counselor did not experience. On the soccer field, a particularly tough girl had the wind knocked out of her, she stood up with a pained expression and her face quivered. It was apparent to me that she was on the verge of tears. My co-counselor screamed encouraging words, hoping she would stay in the game. The girl and I locked eyes and her tough exterior vanished. She ran into my arms crying. I spent the summer comforting, encouraging, and coaxing through the daily tribulations that occur at summer camp. At thanksgiving, I prefer the kid’s table to the mind numbing, hoity adult’s table. I falter and hesitate when interacting with adults, but I am at ease when interacting with children. I find kids to be translucent and easy to read.

I was eleven when I was diagnosed with idiopathic scoliosis. A year or two later, at the beach, I insisted to my parents that my hips were grossly uneven. At my first follow up appointment we discovered that my curve had drastically progressed, and a backbrace would be needed to prevent further degeneration. By this point, I was utterly miserable. High School is difficult to endure as a healthy, normal teenager. I had to go through High School wearing a backbrace, on top of all the normal pain and embarrassment associated with being a teenager. At the end of High School, I had spinal fusion surgery. The surgery transformed my life. The cosmetic effects of the surgery were extraordinary. I looked and felt like a normal girl. The surgery removed all my pain and sadness. I am forever grateful to the nurses and doctors at Shriners Hospital, especially grateful to the nurses. The doctors fixed my body, but the nurses mended my soul. I interacted with an enormous team of nurses daily. They took my blood pressure, cleaned my incision, and pumped me with morphine. On the day of my surgery, when the moment came for my brain to surrender to the anesthesia, they held my hand and whispered soothing words. Due to these compelling life events, I yearn to undertake the challenge of your BSN express program.

But now I am dropping out……

Until next time,

L