(has nothing to do with the post, just a pretty pic i took a long time ago)
I’m not going to over think this post too much. I had minor surgery today and am still feeling drunk on leftover anesthesia/fentanyl/percocet. Consider yourself and the three other people reading this warned.
In the past few weeks I’ve been listening to podcasts from writers, reading articles about blogging and freelance writing, etc. In one of those I was admonished to write something daily. Be it a blog post, a journal entry, a poem… something. Because writers don’t just think about writing, they write. I think my pastor said or wrote that once too. It struck me then, and when I read this lady’s article. I am a writer. Not a known writer. Not the best writer. But I enjoy writing and I just process life better when I’m writing. But when I set out to write something, especially publicly, I sometimes step in the quicksand of self-analyzing and get stuck there. And then I don’t write anything. And that sucks.
So, I took that lady’s advice and decided to write something daily. And the next day my MacBook’s hard-drive failed. My 13 year old black Lab Bailey decided jump onto the chair where I was sitting on the back patio (something she has never done) sending Mrs. Mac descending to the concrete. I believe she lasted 48 hours after that and died (the Mac, not Bailey). Soooo, my writing daily challenge has been mostly limited to journaling.
I worked consecutively this past Friday, Saturday and Sunday at the acute rehab unit where I practice one of the least-glamorous forms of nursing and often found myself thinking about the importance of doing the least-glamorous as a Christian. But that’s another blog post. Those past three days I wrote notes on paper about my patients and nothing more.
Today I returned to the same hospital as a patient. That’s a good thing to do as nurse. I had a minor being-a-girl related surgery that will hopefully help being a pre-menopausal girl with girl-problems be less problematic in the coming years. Such a surgical procedure is neither something one wants to talk about nor read about so I’ll spare you. But the experience of being a nurse on the other side is worth writing and reading about.
I dont’ tell nurses caring for me that I’m a nurse until I feel like they feel comfortable with me and I with them, or until they ask me what I do for a living. That being said, I was really glad 7 different people asked me my name, date of birth and what procedure I was having today. I know as a nurse this is a monotonous part of our job, constantly asking questions our patients often get tired of answering, but its reassuring as a nurse to know the people about to put me into a drug-induced coma and cut on my flesh are repetitively asking for the same information ensuring I’m not going to wake up without a leg or something.
While waiting for the doctor to come talk with me before the procedure, my husband and I had a very interesting conversation about Christian theology, homosexuality and forming personal relationships with people who don’t share your worldview. We don’t share the same view on the first two of those three, but we agree that talking and listening with people who don’t see life the way you do is a good thing for both parties and the community.
The longer I stay married to a man who doesn’t see life the way I do, the more I see how amazing Christ is… he is the great unifier of the most diverse people. He makes a new person. And he makes a person new. “And such were some of you...” The goal may be to win a person to Christ, but it’s never to win an argument about Christ. Required: humility, faithfulness and love. May he bless me with those three treasures. Oh to be made new! And the wonder that he is making me new. “He who began a good work in you will be faithful to complete it.”