So this is what it feels like to be on top of the world, huh?  I like it!  I like it a lot!  Yes, this means I finally heard from the hospital back home in Oregon and it was better news than I hoped for.  The nurse recruiter told me that three different nurse managers want to interview me for positions I applied for.  I had wondered about the logistics of job hunting long distance and hoped I would be allowed to do a phone interview.  Well, it turned out I got more than I hoped for.  The hospital is paying for a plane ticket for me and hotel to fly me home for four days next month to interview me!  Wow.  I was floored.  And I must say, it was great for my ego to know someone wants me to work for them badly enough that they’re willing to do this.  It’s going to be great to see my sister and her family.  And a few old friends.  And go shopping at my favorite bookstore!  I know it will be a quick trip, but the bookstore is only half a block away from the hospital.  It’s going to be great just to get make a trip home, even if it is only a quick one.  I’m really thankful for this opportunity and excited and just all around happy! 

I’ve applied for three different nursing jobs now at the hospital home in Oregon.  It’s been three full business days and I’ve yet to hear anything back from their nursing recruiter or human resources office.  Ok, I know three days isn’t all that long.  It’s entirely possible the person who needs to contact me is out of the office or busy with other work.  They have over a hundred open positions when I search online at the hospital’s web site for open positions in the nursing category.  This same hospital already hired me once, five years ago, on the spot.  I was actually told I had the job at the end of the interview then.  I left the hospital on good terms, eligible for rehire.  So realistically, I know my chances of being hired again are good.  But I’m not cocky or stupid enough to take that for granted.  I’ve been praying lately that if I really am supposed to move home… if it’s really what He has planned for me… I will get a job.  And I know it will be in His time, not mine.  I’ve given it into God’s hands.  But the problem is, I can’t stop worrying about it… I can’t seem to just leave it in God’s hands.  Mom pointed out to me once a few years ago that if you ask a friend to drive you somewhere and they say yes, they will do it, you don’t keep calling them every five minutes to ask them again and again if they’re going to do it.  Right?  Well, when you give something to God, you shouldn’t keep asking Him over and over and over for that same thing.  The analogy made perfect sense to me, and in theory I totally agree with her.  It’s just the putting that concept into practice thing I’m having some trouble with.  I suppose this is what I get for being impatient, yeah? 

As some of you know, I’m actively making plans to move from Ohio back home to Oregon.  Well, this evening I spent two hours updating, typing out, and polishing my resume.  In general, making it as perfect as I can while still being honest.  Anyway, after I finished that I applied online for two nursing positions at the hospital where I worked when I lived there before.  I really liked this hospital, and am looking forward to going back.  I very much want either one of these positions.  Sure I would prefer one over the other, but I’d be happy with either.  So what I want from you, my dear friends and family, is to wish me lots of luck!  Cross your fingers, pray for me, send good vibes my way… whatever you’re comfortable with… ‘k?  Thanks!  And I’ll keep ya posted as I hear anything. 

This evening as I was leaving the laundromat I thought that a swim would be nice.  There’s a nice, decent sized pool at the apartment building here.  But my swim suit I’ve had for going on five years now is no longer wearable.  The elastic in it is all stretched out and it no longer fits correctly.  On my route home I knew I’d be passing a store that has a fairly good selection of swim suits, so I thought I would torture myself and stop by and look for one.  The women reading this will understand why that was torture.  For the men, let me explain… First of all, it’s torture enough to go swim suit shopping unless you happen to look like maybe, oh, say, Uma Thurman.  Then it’s even more of a torture to limit yourself to one store when swim suit shopping. 

I only had three criteria for a swim suit.  I wasn’t being picky.  I just wanted it to be reasonably priced, not too horribly ugly, and to fit right covering all of my fat well enough.  That’s not too much to ask for, is it?  Well, apparently it wasn’t because I was able to find one that fit those criteria.  I paid for it and rushed home to get in the pool before it got too late, too dark, and too cold.  Well, I didn’t quite make it.  I got down to the pool, walked in, and stayed about 2 minutes.  The water was freezing.  Oh well… at least now I have a new swim suit for the next time I want to go down to the pool! 

We are spoiled.  And by “we” I mean Americans.  I know that’s a gross over-generalization, and I know there are certainly exceptions to that statement.  With that said, I do think that as a culture, as a group of people, we are pretty damn spoiled in comparison to some other cultures.  There was a discussion about this at work just last night amongst myself and two other nurses I was working with.  One of them had spent a considerable amount of time in Bolivia and I’ve spent some time in Guatemala.  Granted, not a lot of time in Guatemala, but two trips each approximately two weeks in length.  Enough time to begin to get a feel for the culture.  We agreed that we both came back to the United States feeling very blessed and spoiled and no longer taking things for granted we had taken for granted before.  Things like clean drinking water, enough money to put a roof over your head or afford basic transportation, things like that. 

Two examples from my trips to Guatemala stand out in my mind to make my point.  During the first trip I was speaking through an interpreter to an older woman and she was telling me that she had pain in her neck often (most likely from carrying heavy baskets on her head frequently) and approximately two years earlier there had been an American medical team there in town and they had given her some small white pills that really helped the pain.  She was hoping this American medical team could give her some more.  I found out that those little white pills she’d been waiting approximately two years for were ibuprofen.  Yes, just ibuprofen.  She didn’t have any money or transportation to the pharmacy to buy them.  Even if she’d been able to get the pharmacy, she wouldn’t have had the money to buy them.  Ibuprofen.  Something most of us give no thought to picking up on a quick trip to the store while you’re out running errands.  But to this woman, it was a big deal to get these pills.

On my second trip there was another example of  things we take for granted.  A boy and his grandparents traveled for two full days to get 100 miles from their home to where we were setting up a clinic and doing some surgeries because the boy needed an eye surgery.  They spent most of the two days walking.  That was the only way they could get to us.   A 100 mile trip is not a big deal to most of us.  A two hour trip, roughly.  But to this family it was a real ordeal. 

We really are a pretty spoiled culture.  As are most citizens of “industrialized” countries.  But we sometimes forget about millions of citizens of third world countries who fight for things we take for granted.  There are so many things we see as necessities that they see only as luxuries. 

There is a coastal town in Oregon where I lived as a child and again as a young adult.  This town hasn’t changed all that much over the years.  I am planning on moving back to Oregon in the near future and yesterday I spent the day having some minor car maintenance done to prepare my car for the drive.  So moving back “home” was very much on mind.  There is a rural two lane highway leading into this small coastal town I’ve driven on far too many times to count over the years.  There is a spot on this road where you go around a slight bend in the road and down a slight incline and suddenly this wondrous view of the ocean opens up to you and the smell of sea salt in the air can’t be ignored.  You can see the ocean about a mile ahead and it looks as though it just goes on forever.  I was on the couch reading and relaxing last night and closed my eyes and for just a moment I could see that scene so clearly I was there.  I could see the blue of the ocean almost melting into the blue of the sky so you can hardly tell where one ends and the other begins.  I could see the green, lush trees to the side of the road.  I could smell the tangy salt air that is just so clean and refreshing that once you’ve smelled it, the memory of that smell stays with you always.  I couldn’t help but break out in a smile. 

I had to work last night… New Year’s Eve night.  But it was actually fun!  I didn’t mind being there at all.  There were three staff members on the floor I was working on.  Myself and two other women I always enjoy working with.  Just before midnight we all three put on gaudy fun gold colored tiaras to wear in our hair and broke out the sparkling grape juice.  We included a patient who was awake and another patient’s family member in the celebration and rang in the New Year in a most festive and fun manner.  The patient who was awake and we were involving in the celebration asked each of us to come clink her plastic champagne glass… she wanted a real toast to the New Year.  This woman later said to me “You look so cute with the tiara!  But I bet you feel silly, huh?”  All I could do, of course, was smile and reply “A little bit, yes.”  But looking silly was worth the chuckles it got from other patients and even other staff when I wore it to the cafeteria for lunch later.  Our patients got wonderful care last night… we were still taking our jobs very seriously.  But we managed to make it a lot of fun, too. 

Tonight I was talking to a close friend of mine about a decision I made to move back to Oregon soon.  Well, as soon as I can.  That will probably be this spring or summer.  But anyway, I was telling her all about Saturday Market and how fun it is and the wonderful hiking trails near my old apartment I lived in before I moved to Ohio.  And how they’re building a brand new hospital building in town that will be opening in August.  She laughed and said it sounded like I was very excited about this decision.  I realized I am.  Then I described to her how I used to spend my “perfect” days off work when I lived in Oregon a few years ago before I ended up in Ohio…

I would sleep late, have a good breakfast and get in the car.  I would sing along loudly and off key to the radio as I drove to the coast.  Then I would go shopping in the funky fun little shops on the bayfront of maybe check out the craft and antique store.  Then I would go for a very long walk on the beautiful stretch of beach near where I grew up.  (It’s also near the sand dune that my sister tried to convince me the Easter Bunny lived at the top of, but that’s another story.)  I would just soak up the carefree feeling of the sand between my toes.  Then I would stop by my very favorite hole in the wall seafood place right on the beach for the most wonderful shrimp cocktail and clam chowder for dinner.  And then I would drive home singing loudly and off key along with the radio again, smiling and happy and tired from the fresh salt water air.  I’m looking forward to spending a perfect day like that again. 

Yesterday was a very productive day for me.  Let me clarify that.  It was a productive day off work.  Now that may not sound like much of a proclamation to most of you who have productive days every day.  But let me explain… I live by myself and have no children.  I may have a lot of responsibility while I’m at work and am productive every day at work, but when I get home there is just myself and the cats to be responsible for.  There just aren’t a lot of things I have to get done, so if I don’t want to be very productive on a certain day, I really don’t have to. 

Yesterday I cleaned house, lugged a few bags of donations to the Salvation Army, made a fleece blanket for my youngest niece, went to the grocery store, and made a batch of fudge.  Then I even cleaned the kitchen up after dinner and the fudge making.  I’m not sure where the energy came from or what the burst of productivity was all about, but I enjoyed it.

Now a side note about the cats.  Some of you may know how skittish and scared my little girl cat, Tinkerbell, was when I adopted her about four months ago.  She wouldn’t come out from under my bed for two weeks and wouldn’t really let me pet her for a month.  Well, she’s definitely decided she trusts me.  She lets me pet her any time I walk up to her and even comes to sit next to me and meow to ask to be petted sometimes.  And a few nights ago while she was laying next to me she rolled onto her back with her belly bared to me and let me pet her belly for a few minutes.  I’d say that’s a sure sign she is coming to trust me!

Ok, so this post is going to be a little different coming from me.  Those of you who read my blog with any regularity know I don’t usually comment on political issues.  But something has come to my attention recently I wanted to take the time to comment on.

I’m sure most of you reading this, if not all, have received a mass e mail about the campaign to send Christmas cards addressed to “Any Wounded Soldier” to Walter Reed Army Medical Center, right?   And then you probably also received another one with a link to the page on www.snopes.com (a site that dispels urban legends) explaining why this mail can not be delivered.  Basically, it’s a National safety issue.  There is always the chance that a terrorist could put anthrax or some other biological agent in a Christmas card.  Just because it’s a Christmas card does not automatically mean it is safe and innocent.  There is also the issue of hate mail being sent to wounded soldiers in the guise of a Christmas card.  I can’t begin to imagine the morale crusher that would be.  Here’s this man (or woman) who was wounded fighting for their country and they are spending Christmas in a hospital instead of with family and then they receive hate mail.  

There are those people who might say it’s an overreaction to stop this mail from being delivered.  Some might say we could get around the problem of biological agents and hate mail by screening every piece of mail before it’s delivered.  Now, I support our troops 110%.  I have family members who are former members of the military.  A few have fought in Vietnam and the Persian Gulf war.  While I love the idea of Christmas cards being sent to these soldiers to support them, it is just not safe.  Terrorist could very easily tamper with innocent looking Christmas cards for nefarious purposes.  If the people in our country charged with keeping our military men and women safe have thought of this, you can be damn sure terrorists have, too.  And as for screening every bit of mail, well, that sounds like a good theory.  And if it were at all practical I’d be behind the idea totally.  But it simply is not practical.  You would be putting the people doing the screening in danger of being exposed to whatever biological agents may be in the mail.  And you would also need to determine just where the manpower to spend the time screening each and every piece of mail was going to come from. 

I don’t think it’s an overreaction at all keep this mail addressed to “Any Wounded Soldier” from being delivered.  I think it’s a matter of it being better to be safe than sorry.  That’s my two cents.  Feel free to let me know your thoughts.