It took me nearly 10 years to finish up my Bachelor’s degree. The excessive time frame was due to my indecisiveness and my incredibly fertile womb, the latter lead to three+ years out of school while I bred wee beings in my baby maker. I ended up with a Bachelor’s and two minor’s, none of them overly useful. The one thing I had really wanted to do, and was accepted into, was attend nursing school, a pursuit that would have made my degree much more applicable. But as fate would have it I opted not to go. C’est la vie.
I have regretted that choice, off and on, sometimes with more passion than others. Lately I have wished something fierce that I had that nursing degree. I wish I had more confidence and concrete knowledge in the medical arena, instead of just the running family joke whenever somebody is scraped or bumped, “Well, ask Heather, She was almost a nurse, you know.” While this approach has usually gotten Devon to take his medicine or tolerate a band aid, in our current situation I find it fairly worthless.
This morning I awoke about 45 minutes before my alarm to find Matt violently shivering next to me in the bed. We live in the Rocky Mountains of Colorado, it’s cold; we have two comforters on our bed, one regular and one down. Our room chills at night but we use a wall heater to warm it a bit. With the thick covers we are usually good. In fact, this morning when I woke I was sweating under it all.
Matt’s shivering is never a good sign. I associate it with those 10 days he spent in the hospital last year when Loren and I were so frequently fetching him heated blankets that the nurses gave us free reign of the blanket heater. Last month when I took Matt into the ER it was after a day of intense shivering he spent on the couch with a 103 degree temperature. So the shivers? They scare the crap out of me. This morning as I snuggled up to him and asked how long he had been awake, how he was feeling, what symptoms he was experiencing the familiar feeling of helplessness washed over me. Why do his messed up arteries and damaged nerve endings cause him to have no tolerance of cold? Why can he sometimes be fine with a certain temperature while another day he can’t move due to it? Why do his ankles swell? Why do his joints ache? Will he ever be able to stay awake past 8 pm? So many questions and no clue whatsoever as to the answers.
Had I gone to nursing school would I know the answers to all these mysteries? Not too likely. Would I feel more confident and not so afraid of this disease that has so many moods and whims? I fancy I might. The truth is that I would likely be as useless in it all as I am now. Helpless to this damn disease that has knocked Matt on his ass and put the fear in the rest of us. I hate it and wish his arteries were free of debris, that his kidneys were robust. It’s beginning to dawn on me that this disease isn’t going away and sometimes the fantasy of being an RN and knowing what do is what gets me through the day. I suppose it’s better than hiding my head and watching Netflix or chain smoking to get through the hours.
Shoulda-woulda-coulda’s suck and in the end, they don’t serve a purpose other than self punishment. I hate when I get them; I hate that sometimes I can’t move past them. I empathize. Upside: My nurse sister changed a crap ton of bedpans for years. Just think of that glamor when you get into the SWC’s. :^)
True enough, the grass is always greener on the other side, eh? The SCW’s are a pesky bunch.
Go back to school, Princess. At least this time you won’t be starving yourself for a pirouette.
Sweetest Alan, you’re so right. Those were hungry years, but I looked sooooo good. I should return and often consider it. Maybe if the big guy starts feeling better and when that Red Head gets through high school.
It’s really tempting to imagine where we’d be if we’d made other choices. I do it too. I think about if I’d gotten my master’s degree in fine arts as opposed to social work. Would I have a successful writing career by now? Who knows? I have to remind myself that what matters is what I do with where I am today. If I’d gone on to study writing would I have as much insight into my own behavior as I do because of my experience in mental health? Doubtful. And you know what? Even though I wasn’t trained as a writer my experience has served me well. I’m sure yours has too. Hang in there, friend. There’s still time to chase dreams.
True enough! There are spans of time when I don’t think about it all and am perfectly content. And it’s so true that we are who we are because of what we’ve done, seen, studied, said. I wouldn’t trade now for anything, but it is such a challenge at the moment so the urge to wonder sits heavy some days. Dream chasing comes in increments at the moment and on the days when I’m not too exhausted to do just that, those are lovely indeed. Thanks for the insight.
It’s never too late to pursue your dreams. It’s just hard knowing exactly what those dreams are, at least for me! When I’m at the library, surrounded by all those books, I either want to write my own or be a librarian!
Happy to see you writing here again. Not happy at what you and your family are going through. I’ve been silent for a while too. And all of a sudden, the ideas are flowing. So I’m taking notes and gearing up to dive back in.
Your last post was hilarious! Made me giggle. Sometimes lately life has just gotten so intense that writing seems to flay my skin off just a bit more and then the urge to fins a vat of salt becomes huge. I have a vat of words to write and it would be healthier for all of us here if I could spit them out. Sigh. Thanks for your words though.
One of my dearest friends is a librarian, they are bad-ass sass monsters for sure! And you totally should write a book, it would be fabulous. Cheers to this New Year, I hope it brings us all some light!
Also, we all squabble daily over who goes to be with the bean!
I’d say you already have the equivalent of an Associates in Nursing. Hang in there!
LOL! How are you? I’ve been under a rock. Will crawl out and listen to voicemails and be social once more Sorry.
I often ask myself if I have made the right decisions and wonder where I’d be if I chose a different path.
There’s still time to follow your dreams if that’s what you want to do.
True enough. But summoning up that energy…I might have to take a nap first.
Pingback: Navigating a disease or inviting it to stay for cocktails | That Uncomfortable Itch