what if
It seems like years since I've written in this. My life during the summer is so many miles away from my life during the school year.
I can't wait to go back. I miss clinical with an intensity that has surprised me. Every time Jilly gets hurt, I go through the whole nursing routine. I do a full assessment in my head while maintaining that outer layer of calm assuredness that keeps her from knowing that her injury might need anything more than a kiss. Last night I pulled out my textbooks and skimmed through the pages that I had cursed for the challenges they presented during the year. My fingertips were starved for that unique slippery squeaky texture to my medical textbooks.
I've been terrified about fall semester and only having nursing classes, none of which will provide that relaxed exhale that you adore in a class that is markedly easier than the rest. All nursing classes, up to 12hr clinical shifts twice a week, work study, and god willing, a good amount of time for WU and training so I don't go insane. I've been terrified of the huge possibility of failure, and not in that "I might flunk a class" way, in that "I might not be in the top of my class with that kind of schedule" way. Which is ridiculous. As long as I am learning the material correctly and commiting it to memory, the grades are going to have to take a back seat.
mmm. reprioritizing. probably a good idea considering my current diversional activity selection. (Say nothing Cait, our nonverbal agreement demands that of you.)
Anyway, I need to go wash my hair in the sink because theres a dead spider in the tub and I'm scared to death that if I try to pick it up with a tissue that it will come back to life and... I dont know... attack me.
I never said my fears were rational.
all my love,
Mrs. Darcy
I can't wait to go back. I miss clinical with an intensity that has surprised me. Every time Jilly gets hurt, I go through the whole nursing routine. I do a full assessment in my head while maintaining that outer layer of calm assuredness that keeps her from knowing that her injury might need anything more than a kiss. Last night I pulled out my textbooks and skimmed through the pages that I had cursed for the challenges they presented during the year. My fingertips were starved for that unique slippery squeaky texture to my medical textbooks.
I've been terrified about fall semester and only having nursing classes, none of which will provide that relaxed exhale that you adore in a class that is markedly easier than the rest. All nursing classes, up to 12hr clinical shifts twice a week, work study, and god willing, a good amount of time for WU and training so I don't go insane. I've been terrified of the huge possibility of failure, and not in that "I might flunk a class" way, in that "I might not be in the top of my class with that kind of schedule" way. Which is ridiculous. As long as I am learning the material correctly and commiting it to memory, the grades are going to have to take a back seat.
mmm. reprioritizing. probably a good idea considering my current diversional activity selection. (Say nothing Cait, our nonverbal agreement demands that of you.)
Anyway, I need to go wash my hair in the sink because theres a dead spider in the tub and I'm scared to death that if I try to pick it up with a tissue that it will come back to life and... I dont know... attack me.
I never said my fears were rational.
all my love,
Mrs. Darcy