Closer to Fine

Several days ago, I found myself headed west on I88 in central New York through the hills that just seem to pop up out of nowhere.  My mind was wandering a bit as the sun began to peek through the clouds creating a great setting for some deep thinking.  I was headed into my new job I am just starting to settle into, while shaking off my old job that I finished a few days prior.  December.  This was transition month for me, two full time jobs for a total of 205 hours.  The last few weeks have been challenging to say the very least.  Aside from work demands, I had school issues to deal with, a pivotal launch for my foundation, a huge race to continue to train for, not to mention my role of resident Santa that could not go unfulfilled.  In a lot of ways, I felt like a hamster on a wheel that just never seemed to slow down.  As I was trying to reconcile the events of the month in my mind, my phone would ring, as an old friend called to do the customary post holiday check in.  How was I holding up?  What came out of my mouth surprised even me.  "Actually... I am fine."  It occurred to me in that moment, "fine" was not a word I had used in a long time to describe myself.  A whole host of other adjectives had taken its place.  There was,"sleep deprived", "stressed", "pissed off" and "downright exhausted."  I had to really think about that word...."fine".  As my brain often does, I quickly jumped to an 80's musical reference and found myself searching my eclectic playlist for the Indigo Girls, "Closer to Fine".  I have probably listened to this song a thousand times, but suddenly I found myself listening with all new ears.

"I'm tryin' to tell you somethin' 'bout my life,

Maybe give me insight between black and white"

It occurs to me that I have, in fact, lived my life with the black and white  mentality.  I suppose you could say it served me well in some regards.  Left to my own devices to pay for college at the age of 19, not finishing my undergraduate degree was not an option.  Working nights in an ER as a nursing assistant and taking student loans from anyone who would give them to me was the road.  Not having children was not an option when the blows of infertility came, so trekking the adoption road through international rules was the way.  Not having a masters degree to be a nurse practitioner was not an option, so it was working nights as a nurse in a suburban Chicago ER with a 3 year old and 1 year old at home with school during the day was the route I took.  An unwavering pursuit of goals with the understanding that my very definition and happiness lived on the other side of achievement, making any difficult path worth the effort.

"and I went to the doctor, I went to the mountains,

I looked to the children, I drank from the fountains"

Thing after thing I chased. Degrees, a ten year successful career in neurosurgery, an 8 year career in emergency medicine, five adoptions, multiple attempts at weight loss using every method modern science had to offer, all the while convincing myself with absolute certainty of what lived on the other side of these pursuits.

"Well darkness has a hunger that's insatiable,

and lightness has a call that's hard to hear,

I wrap my fear around me like a blanket,

I sailed my ship of safety til I sank it"

What I found in the midst of said pursuits was me wrapped in a blanket watching TV night after night doing what I did best, hand to mouth, crunch, repeat, sinking deeper into the darkness waiting for the magical thing that was supposed to happen when I hit my next goal missing the very moments right in front of me.  

"There's more than one answer to these questions,

Pointing me in a crooked  line,

and the less I seek my source for some definitive,

The closer I am to fine"

Maybe this was it.  Maybe the magic was not in the black and white achieving versus not achieving of a goal, rather the embracing of the gray that is the journey.  The journey that is fluid and teaches us so many things along the way.  It is the surrounding ourselves with like minded people who help us take our lives less seriously and to truly see that it really only is life after all.  Maybe the trick is to learn to stop defining ourselves by the goals we set and learn to be as close to fine as we can be along the way.  

This year I have many goals in front of me.  I have physical challenges like the Dopey Challenge, 48 miles of running through Disney in four days with 6 of my closest friends, along with my third Spartan trifecta.  I have corporate goals such as a multitude of fund raising events to be able to sponsor others to get healthy, I even have personal goals like debt reduction and budgeting.  Maybe now would be a good time to challenge myself to be a whole lot closer to fine along the way than I have been before.  So, 2019, show me your best, and I promise to slow down and enjoy the ride.

Now or Never...It's My Life

I find myself tonight in a well appointed king room at the Marriott, successfully completing day two of my new job.  My new job.  Yeah about that.  I have been a nurse practitioner for 18 years, and was a nurse for 8 years before that.  I suppose you could throw me into the "adrenaline junkie" professional category.  As a nurse, I spent a good portion of those years in the emergency room.  When I finished my masters to be an NP, I jumped into neurosurgery for ten years.  Brain tumors, aneurysms, spinal fractures, complex neurological problems.  I found myself closing skulls at 3:00 in the morning following big traumas, and holding my breath as the clock ticked away while doc put a clip on a brain aneurysm as quickly as possible so we could reestablish flow and avoid brain injury.  From there, I would make the leap to emergency medicine as an NP.  Cardiac arrests, crazy traumas, and even baby deliveries in the front seat of a car parked outside. 

Through it all, I suppose I just enjoyed the rush of the emergencies and the satisfaction of solving difficult puzzles that embodied the complex patient.  Which is why as I sit here, post 12 hour day, in my urgent care scrubs, it all seems a bit surreal.  I moonlight in another system of three urgent cares. I always said I would not do it full time.  It felt like it was a professional step backwards, yet here I am contract signed, full time urgent care  The decision was financially driven as well as having more time for my family and to take the giant leap and bet on my motivational business and my foundation to define my adult professional self rather than a 26 year ever advancing career in medicine.  As I ponder all of this over my container of naked chicken tenders, tunes playing, classic Bon Jovi would fill my room. 

"This ain't a song for the broken hearted,

no silent prayer for the faith-departed"

Not a song for the broken hearted?  Maybe I should skip this one.  Giving up what I know and love so well to forge into the unknown had it's own grieving process.  What was I going to do without the adrenaline rush of trauma or the solving of a difficult medical puzzle?  How was I going to stay fulfilled professionally??  What if I got bored putting bandaids on in the urgent care, or my foundation did not grow the way I had hoped?  Reflecting on this, I suppose in some ways I really am a bit faith departed in this moment.

"This is for the ones that stood their ground,

It's for Tommy and Gina who never backed down"

Standing my ground is something I have become proficient at as a provider.  I can fend off the drug seekers without even a single dose of medication and have learned to always keep myself between the patient and the door for those patients who feel it is necessary to come at me physically when the answer is no.  I have learned to navigate the back halls of any ER to avoid the drunken marriage proposals of the regulars, and which of the said regulars would require chemical and/or physical restraint to keep the rest of the staff out of the line of fire of flying fists and the uncontrolled spewing of various bodily fluids.  There was the compartmentalization of emotion necessary for the time spent with families who suddenly lost a loved one you had five minutes previously done chest compressions on.  Yessir.  Eight years in this environment on the heels of ten years of neurosurgery, I pretty much knew all the tricks of the trade.

"Tomorrow's getting harder, make no mistake,

Luck ain't enough,

You've got to make your own breaks"

For the last two years, I have been working in two emergency rooms and three urgent cares for more than full time hours.  Countless hours of work, with limited sleep due to crazy shifts and home demands, as my brain could not loosen the reigns on my professional career to consider doing something different, with a denial of the fact that it just may be getting harder. The cumulative trauma of death and abuse just may be having an effect after all of these years.  Maybe it is time to think about making my own break. Maybe lowering patient acuity in a high end urgent care is not so bad.  After all, my new gig had beautifully appointed facilities, a keurig for coffee on demand, and even snacks. 

"It's my life,

And it's now or never,

I ain't gonna live forever,

I just want to live while I'm alive."

Transition is never something I have been particularly good at.  As destructive as it was, there was even a comfort in my 45 years of obesity.  I filled a role for others, I was good at it, and I was comfortable.  I knew how to do that just like I know how to be a nurse practitioner and so many other things.  I deluded myself to believe there was total satisfaction in these comfortable places.  However, I am coming to see that what really exists in those places is not the actual ignition of spirit, rather the same old drunks in the corner spewing unknown bodily fluids, and a partial death of emotion when the compartment it was getting shoved into suddenly gets so full it busts right open.  Real growth in spirit just may exist in taking risks, shoving away a fear of failure, grabbing life by the balls and moving in all new ways.  So here I sit in my royal blue scrubs, preparing to change into my own logo and get to work motivating my 320 sharks, and start the process of letting loose of the 26 year career that has defined my adult professional self, to bet on me, something I have never been brave enough to do until now.  Yes, there is a part of my brain that is afraid I will fall directly on my face and find myself only putting bandaids on until the end of time, but there is a bigger part terrified that I will stay in my comfort zone and absolutely never know.  Either way, win or lose I will know:

"I did it my way,

I just want to live while I'm alive."

So, thank you Mr. Bon Jovi for the subtle reminder that it is entirely possible that the best is yet to come.