or do you like making out, and long drives, and brown eyes
It's a Friday night and I'm just hanging out on the computer, lazing away. Ryan's on long call tonight so God knows what time he'll be home.
I opened AIM tonight for the first time in forever, and within a minute I heard the little door-opening sound coming on to say someone had signed in. I was filled with an instant sense of excitement and then just as quickly a sense of let-down. Call it conditioning if you will. On my desktop computer when I was in high school, undergrad and even my first couple months here at Duke, I would always set that sound to when a boy I liked would come online. I'd get instant butterflies, and probably click their buddy info 600 times. I would always give them time to IM me first, and if that didn't work, I would make sure I waited a decent amount of time to IM them so as not to look like I was stalking their sign-on activity (which I totally was).
Well, this computer is set to make that sound for anybody to sign on, and I'm not stalking sign-ons anymore.
I've been thinking about youth lately which is something I really need to stop being fixated on. I find myself longing to go back and re-do high school now with Taylor Swift as my soundtrack and the confidence I have to actually be somebody in that herd of beasts. That being said, I loved high school. I loved sitting home on a Friday night chatting with friends about that boy and discovering that So Impossible by Dashboard Confessional said everything I wanted to say. I dreamt about having a date like the bridge of Hands Down, or any date for that matter. I loved sitting in the back of pre-calc and talking about what we WEREN'T going to be when we grew up. I loved Valentine's Day and the prospect of maybe getting a cheap old carnation, which I usually never did except the time Nadim sent me one because he knew despite me telling him not to, that I would get down about not getting one and appreciate it. And I did. I loved watching Fields of Gold in Mr. Ikens' creative writing class and crafting interpretations on Sting's intentions. I loved the nights of driving out to Cleopatra's blasting Britney Spears. And then there's Hemlock Park where we'd sneak up at night and lay on a hill to complain about our parents and talk about our life stories, things we wouldn't talk about in daylight but somehow felt comfortable letting our guards down about once night fell.
Now I am managing heart failure and trying to convince my patients with ejection fractions of 15% that they probably can't have Pizza Hut ever again, meanwhile reassuring folks they can eat their collard greens while taking Coumadin as long as they're consistent. (People down here in the south get very particular the minute you bring up their collard greens. I swear, it's like they're expecting you're gonna talk bad about their beloved child or something!) I've come so far to even be talking to patients about cocaine use because they need to be straight up with me when their urine drug screens came back positive, so I know whether or not it is safe to put them on a beta blocker for fear of worsened vasospasm.
I am also marrying the person I love with all my heart and have something to smile about every day because of him. We just have so much fun together and if I could spend every second with him, I would. Part of the reason rotations were so hard on me in the first few months was because I had to be away from him all day - I was so used to sitting next to him in class, eating lunch together, studying together. But it makes coming home all the better now. I'm also gaining a family that is wonderful in every way, and one who looks after me when my own family is so far away. I'm able to decorate my very own space and take pride in my own little potted plants. I'm meeting dozens of new, amazing, intriguing people every day on my rotations and being able to be a part of someone's journey through life, in sickness and hopefully in health. I have a better relationship with my mom than I ever thought possible. I am so filled with love and excitement/uncertainty for what comes next. I'm still me, just in a different context.
What I don't miss about high school is the year I had to pretend everything was okay when my dad was dying of cancer, plus the aftermath that followed. I know it sounds weird, but I used to hate that he died two days into summer vacation - I wished he'd died during the school year so people would understand why I was who I was the next year.
I went back my sophomore year of high school a totally different girl who couldn't bring herself to honestly answer the question "How was your summer?" What was I supposed to say? "Oh, just dandy. I had to watch a code called on my dad and see him take his very last breath on a ventilator." "I found my dad's father's day gifts in the closet a month after he died, intended to be given to him the day after he died and just sat on the floor clutching a flannel shirt and crying." Instead I just smiled half-heartedly and let them tell their stories instead. It was just easier that way. They talked about the parties they went to and the lakes they watched fireworks over. I wasn't about to spill my guts and tell them the truth -- "I spent an extraordinary amount of summer nights camped out on a lawn chair in my backyard with my walkman listening to Pillow Talk, praying for shooting stars to soar by while songs like Butterfly Kisses came on, just so I could feel somewhat still connected to my father."
10 years(!) and 10 days ago, my diary entry said this:
"Out of all the people in this family, no matter how morbid it sounds, I wish I was the one with the cancer. I see myself as able to handle it the best. See, if the person were me, I would be able to stop worrying about what my dad was thinking. I wouldn't have to worry about feeling guilty, or being bothered by the fact that I might not be saying the right things to him."
and
"I really sometimes wish I were someone else. Then maybe things would be just a little bit better."
If only I could go back and tell myself then that things will get better. They did. They took a long time and one heck of a lot of hard work, but here I am. I consider myself a stronger person now, albeit one lingering in the past lately. When I started this entry I thought I was perseverating on a simpler time. Maybe perhaps my life is simpler now.
Maybe this is why I continue to write. Things make more sense when I do.
(High school journalism class - Diana, Deborah, me)
(Who knew a candid just-woke-up shot would turn into one of my favorite pics of all time? My dad looks so happy.)
And finally, to spite my tangentiality off the initial topic, Dashboard Confessional lyrics:
i'm starting to fashion an idea in my head where i would impress you
with everything single word i said
it would come out insightful, or brave, or smooth, or charming
and you'd wanna call me
..this time I know he will. :)
I opened AIM tonight for the first time in forever, and within a minute I heard the little door-opening sound coming on to say someone had signed in. I was filled with an instant sense of excitement and then just as quickly a sense of let-down. Call it conditioning if you will. On my desktop computer when I was in high school, undergrad and even my first couple months here at Duke, I would always set that sound to when a boy I liked would come online. I'd get instant butterflies, and probably click their buddy info 600 times. I would always give them time to IM me first, and if that didn't work, I would make sure I waited a decent amount of time to IM them so as not to look like I was stalking their sign-on activity (which I totally was).
Well, this computer is set to make that sound for anybody to sign on, and I'm not stalking sign-ons anymore.
I've been thinking about youth lately which is something I really need to stop being fixated on. I find myself longing to go back and re-do high school now with Taylor Swift as my soundtrack and the confidence I have to actually be somebody in that herd of beasts. That being said, I loved high school. I loved sitting home on a Friday night chatting with friends about that boy and discovering that So Impossible by Dashboard Confessional said everything I wanted to say. I dreamt about having a date like the bridge of Hands Down, or any date for that matter. I loved sitting in the back of pre-calc and talking about what we WEREN'T going to be when we grew up. I loved Valentine's Day and the prospect of maybe getting a cheap old carnation, which I usually never did except the time Nadim sent me one because he knew despite me telling him not to, that I would get down about not getting one and appreciate it. And I did. I loved watching Fields of Gold in Mr. Ikens' creative writing class and crafting interpretations on Sting's intentions. I loved the nights of driving out to Cleopatra's blasting Britney Spears. And then there's Hemlock Park where we'd sneak up at night and lay on a hill to complain about our parents and talk about our life stories, things we wouldn't talk about in daylight but somehow felt comfortable letting our guards down about once night fell.
Now I am managing heart failure and trying to convince my patients with ejection fractions of 15% that they probably can't have Pizza Hut ever again, meanwhile reassuring folks they can eat their collard greens while taking Coumadin as long as they're consistent. (People down here in the south get very particular the minute you bring up their collard greens. I swear, it's like they're expecting you're gonna talk bad about their beloved child or something!) I've come so far to even be talking to patients about cocaine use because they need to be straight up with me when their urine drug screens came back positive, so I know whether or not it is safe to put them on a beta blocker for fear of worsened vasospasm.
I am also marrying the person I love with all my heart and have something to smile about every day because of him. We just have so much fun together and if I could spend every second with him, I would. Part of the reason rotations were so hard on me in the first few months was because I had to be away from him all day - I was so used to sitting next to him in class, eating lunch together, studying together. But it makes coming home all the better now. I'm also gaining a family that is wonderful in every way, and one who looks after me when my own family is so far away. I'm able to decorate my very own space and take pride in my own little potted plants. I'm meeting dozens of new, amazing, intriguing people every day on my rotations and being able to be a part of someone's journey through life, in sickness and hopefully in health. I have a better relationship with my mom than I ever thought possible. I am so filled with love and excitement/uncertainty for what comes next. I'm still me, just in a different context.
What I don't miss about high school is the year I had to pretend everything was okay when my dad was dying of cancer, plus the aftermath that followed. I know it sounds weird, but I used to hate that he died two days into summer vacation - I wished he'd died during the school year so people would understand why I was who I was the next year.
I went back my sophomore year of high school a totally different girl who couldn't bring herself to honestly answer the question "How was your summer?" What was I supposed to say? "Oh, just dandy. I had to watch a code called on my dad and see him take his very last breath on a ventilator." "I found my dad's father's day gifts in the closet a month after he died, intended to be given to him the day after he died and just sat on the floor clutching a flannel shirt and crying." Instead I just smiled half-heartedly and let them tell their stories instead. It was just easier that way. They talked about the parties they went to and the lakes they watched fireworks over. I wasn't about to spill my guts and tell them the truth -- "I spent an extraordinary amount of summer nights camped out on a lawn chair in my backyard with my walkman listening to Pillow Talk, praying for shooting stars to soar by while songs like Butterfly Kisses came on, just so I could feel somewhat still connected to my father."
10 years(!) and 10 days ago, my diary entry said this:
"Out of all the people in this family, no matter how morbid it sounds, I wish I was the one with the cancer. I see myself as able to handle it the best. See, if the person were me, I would be able to stop worrying about what my dad was thinking. I wouldn't have to worry about feeling guilty, or being bothered by the fact that I might not be saying the right things to him."
and
"I really sometimes wish I were someone else. Then maybe things would be just a little bit better."
If only I could go back and tell myself then that things will get better. They did. They took a long time and one heck of a lot of hard work, but here I am. I consider myself a stronger person now, albeit one lingering in the past lately. When I started this entry I thought I was perseverating on a simpler time. Maybe perhaps my life is simpler now.
Maybe this is why I continue to write. Things make more sense when I do.
(High school journalism class - Diana, Deborah, me)
(Who knew a candid just-woke-up shot would turn into one of my favorite pics of all time? My dad looks so happy.)
And finally, to spite my tangentiality off the initial topic, Dashboard Confessional lyrics:
i'm starting to fashion an idea in my head where i would impress you
with everything single word i said
it would come out insightful, or brave, or smooth, or charming
and you'd wanna call me
..this time I know he will. :)