My arm flaps are very angry with me. They are exacting revenge by jiggling aggressively every time I move my arms.
Again, I apologize for being the world’s worst blogger!
It’s just that over the last two or three months, since the last time I posted, I’ve had a lot of big decisions to make! Not to mention a crazy schedule at work what with new computer systems starting and lots and lots of people leaving.
Let’s start with the blog.
It’s hardly the most demanding or time consuming part of my life. Blogging is fun. Blogging is relaxing. Blogging is…
Well, it’s a chance for the attention-grubbing middle child in me to assert itself.
On the other hand, it has also given me a chance to establish conclusively, once and for all, exactly what a GREAT BIG HUGE Pansy I am.
That’s right. I’m a wimp. I am. I won’t deny it. I’m a pathetic, sniveling, cowering inch worm and I’m deeply, deeply ashamed about it. You want to know why? Well, here it is.
I can’t. I just can’t. Let’s just say I’ve seen one too many people barfing their little intestines out over one sad piece of bad sushi and have consequently developed a deathly phobia of it.
Warm, partially digested fish for gosh sakes. Ew.
I apologize if sushi is what you had for dinner tonight. Or is what you are eating while reading this. Or if you ever plan to eat it again.
Well, that’s what I get for living in a landlocked state. If I lived in California maybe it would be a different story!
In any case, once I decided conclusively that I can never, ever so much as let even one tiny piece of raw fish ever pass my lips, the whole rest of the Project seemed pretty moot.
Which led me to wonder if I should continue with the blog.
Which led me to ponder other things.
Which led me to thinking about work and my career and the world at large and the universe and life in general.
Several months ago I suffered a miscommunication which led me to believe that a new position would be opening up to me in my near future. Well, this new position seems to have slipped from my cooking oil coated little fingers, which has led me to conclude that Emergency Department Trauma Tech is just not a realistic lifetime career.
This got me to thinking about whether or not I ever really even wanted this new job in the first place.
Which got me to thinking about how long I want to continue doing what I’m doing.
Which got me to thinking about school.
Which got me to thinking about this:
Should Phobicfoodie go to nursing school?
You see, the thing is that if I went to nursing school I’d get done and then I’d have to be…you know…a nurse.
After these recent developments, and after seeing how the focus in healthcare has shifted so much from taking care of people to trying to make money and not get sued while doing it I’ve found myself wondering if I even want to stay in it.
However, my beloved and very wise mother pointed out to me last week over lunch that I have always had a fascination with all things medical. When I was two years old my favorite toy was the little plastic doctor’s briefcase that included (among other things) a blue, fluffy hair net, an empty syringe with no needle attatched, and a tiny plastic stethoscope through which I would listen to breath sounds and heart beats and the deep, echoing sounds of my sisters’ giggles as heard amplified through lungs, a set of matchstick ribs, viscera, muscles, skin, and one tiny plastic stethoscope bell.
A few years later I would lay my head against my mother’s belly and listen to the gurgling rumbles of her bowels as they digested the chicken and stars and saltines we’d had for lunch. I always thought it was hilarious that our tummies would rumble and burble, even when we weren’t hungry.
Healthcare, it would seem, is in my blood.
I love it. I’ve always loved it. When I was a kid, bandaids were the coolest thing on eath and blood probably the most fascinating thing I’d ever seen.
Even when I consider the politics and the stress and the long hours and the frightening, maddening, saddening, horrifying, and often times disgusting things I see and am in contact with every shift I still, at the bottom of my heart, to the very ends of my chipped and untrimmed tippy-toenails, know that health care is the place for me.
Even with all the negative experiences and feelings I’ve had while working in this broken, broken system. Even with the bitterness and cynicism and hardness that goes hand in hand with the job.
It’s not about the politics. It’s not about playing the game. It’s about the patients. And about the fact that I’ll always be learning, no matter how long I’m a part of it. And the sense of accomplishement, to have been even a small part of something important.
And it’s about doing what I love.
So there it is. A Great Big Decision (and two plus months of inner turmoil), abridged down to a few short paragraphs. But the Decision (decisions) has been made and I’m sharing it here, with you, now.
I’m going back to school. And I’m afraid the other kids won’t like me, and the teacher will make fun of me, and that I’ll have to do math on the chalkboard in front of everyone and I’ll get it wrong and everyone will laugh at me.
It’s gonna be great.
On the other hand, this means less time and money for any food-related projects that I may have had any aspirations to start.
Not to worry. I’ll still be cooking. And I’ll still do my best to find time to share my discoveries and creations with you!
But in the meantime brace yourselves. You may be hearing a lot more blood and guts than before!
Happy St. Patrick’s Day, by the way. I have a super-kickin’ Shepherd’s Pie recipe I plan to share with you soon.
You can add it to the 3,786,439 other Shepherd’s Pie recipes you found posted online today.
Thanks for bearing with me!