Beautiful

A man came up to me today and said, "I just wanted to let you know that you are stunningly beautiful."

I looked at him and then looked at the floor as I mumbled, "Thank you."

And then he put his hand on my arm (which freaked me out at first), and I looked him directly in the eye, and he said, "Believe me. You are stunningly beautiful."

And that was about it. The man left.

Life imitating...work.

For the past five and a half weeks, I've been on my psychiatry rotation. I've dealt with patients with a myriad of diagnoses. Some live with their families or on their own. Some live in nursing homes or group homes. Some did live with their families or on their own will have to move into a nursing or group home upon discharge. That's always hard to take. It means that the families of these people can no longer care for them. It's a difficult decision but one that sometimes has to be made.

As I've been dealing with this regarding my patients at work, I've also been dealing with this in my family. My grandmother has some form of dementia. We don't know what it is...she refuses to let them do any "tests." Her health is failing, too...to the point that my grandfather took her to the emergency room this last week and she was put in the hospital for several days. Unfortunately, my grandmother became very agitated at the thought of going to the big University Medical Center and convinced my grandfather to take her to the smaller local hospital. They still don't know what's wrong. My grandmother knows my name when I call, but if I call her in the morning and again in the evening, by the evening, often she has completely forgotten the morning phone call. She is confused and emotionally labile much of the time. My grandfather is at a loss of what to do.

I have an aunt with a mental illness who regularly goes off of her medication. She stopped again a couple of weeks ago and disappeared for a few days causing us to file a missing persons report with the police. She has reached the point where she can no longer live alone. For the past several years, she's lived in a retirement/assisted living community. That's really no longer feasible. She needs someone to administer her medications to her twice a day...every day. How do you tell an adult that they essentially need a babysitter?

My uncle with frontotemporal dementia had to take early retirement. He and my aunt just sold their dream house to move into an apartment because he can't function like he used to. He no longer drives and just doesn't have the ability to perform many of the activities he used to love.

So live is imitating work right now...I don't like it, but I know God has it in His hands and even though I don't always feel like He hears my prayers...I know He does.

Journey to Nineveh

Has God ever prompted you to do something you didn't want to do...something that was not in your original plan and yet you can't seem to get away from it?

Yeah...sometimes God sends me to Nineveh, too.

God provides.

When I moved out of my old apartment, I had to leave my beloved hibiscus plants behind. I had three of them in various colors, and I so much enjoyed watching them bloom and taking care of them. Unfortunately, since they were on my roof top terrace and weighed over 150 pounds each with the soil and pots, they had to be left behind. I moved into a smaller apartment. I still have plants but not as many and only on my front porch, which doesn't have room to accommodate a hibiscus.

But God provides. Outside my bedroom window is a beautiful hibiscus! The apartment complex planted it. Every morning when I wake up, all I have to do is gaze out the window to be reminded that God provides...in all things He provides.

I'm scared...

I rarely get scared. Anxious...yes...but not scared. I lived in the ghetto in Dallas...the ghetto! Seriously, my neighbors told me not to go out at night and if I had to for any reason to make sure that one of them escorted me to and from my car.

But this is different.

Evidently some girl gave out my phone number instead of hers...and now this random guy keeps calling me. I've tried answering and telling him that I am not the person he's looking for. I've tried letting it go to voicemail...which I then realized was a mistake because I say, "It's a beautiful day in Galveston." He's called multiple times, and honestly, I'd really like him to stop. I have no interest in talking with him or meeting him.

Needless to say, I will be locking my door tonight using all three locks.

Today I felt like a doctor.

It doesn't happen very often. In fact, I can probably count the number of times it's happened on one hand, but today...I felt like a doctor.

Exciting!

The Baylor men's basketball team hasn't made an appearance in the NCAA tournament since 1988...until now!

Go Bears!

Truth from one of my faculty

It's hard to walk south when God's pointing your feet north.

Benefits of the short white coat

1. It keeps me warm. As a person who tends to become chilled easily, I appreciate the added layer of warmth.

2. It protects my clothes. My white coat, which can easily be bleached, has taken many hits and successfully saved my clothing. It's held up to several cups of coffee, sodas, condiments, and sauces like a champ.

3. There are many pockets. Pockets are great. They hold stuff. However, putting an overabundance of items in my pants pockets leaves me looking...well, less than attractive. Fortunately, I am saved by the pockets in white coat. My pockets hold things like my cell phone, wallet, pens, pencils, highlighters, trauma shears, notepads, BMI wheel, pregnancy wheel, tuning fork, reflex hammer, pen light, several books, extra paperwork, and sometimes my pager. Wow! No wonder it's so heavy.

and 4. The length tells people my status. They know when they see my short white coat that I am still a student. It's quite helpful. They don't ask me questions that they know I can't answer or expect me to be able to write orders.

In just 16 short months, I'll have to trade in my short white coat for a long one...with fewer pockets...what will I do?