Emotional Heimlich

So, Pushing Daisies has this great line about a hug being an emotional heimlich where somebody puts their arms around you and squeezes you and all your fear and anxiety come shooting out of your mouth in a big wet wad and you can breathe again. You know what else is like that emotional heimlich? Finding out you are going back to Colorado.

After almost 7 years (really it's barely six and a half, especially if you count all the time spent away), one phone call forced all of the fear and anxiety out of my mouth. It was the biggest wettest wad, and now I can breathe again. It's funny how life comes full circle. I worry and panic and study my butt off (and play a lot of computer games and watch a lot of Alias bloopers) for so many years, and then one day all of a sudden, I'm 30-year-old Jenna Rink realizing I got everything I always wanted. Hopefully that's where the parallel ends and I don't end up wishing for it all to do over again after I realize that I wanted the wrong things. But I don't think I've wanted the wrong things. Not when everybody and their brother has been praying for me, and I've been praying that God's will be done and that I may come to desire whatever that will is. This is how it's supposed to be.

I feel a little bit like I've been waiting for my life to start, which saddens me a little to know that I probably haven't been living life to the fullest because I've been hanging my hopes on the dream of someday being back in Colorado. But mostly, I'm excited. And relieved. Okay, like 90% relieved and 10% excited. But that will change as it gets closer.

One of the best parts is that I don't have to start at Children's right away. I get about a month between the end of my residency and new employee orientation to move my stuff, find a house, and do all the stuff that's been on hold for 7 years. I think I might take a wild and crazy vacation. Go stay at a little bed and breakfast on the New England coast and ride bikes and look for seashells. Or spend a week as a cowgirl in Wyoming, herding cattle on a dude ranch and falling asleep sore and exhausted every night underneath the stars. Or maybe go to Vancouver and see the beauty of British Columbia. Definitely I will be hitting up some Rockies and Rapids games. And spending time with the fam. (Especially since I won't be seeing much of them once I start work as I'll be on the evening shift) I know the time will fly and I'll be hard at work again before I know it, but it can't go any faster than this year has. Look at me still living in the future when I have a perfectly good present.

I'm going to remedy that with a little tuna noodle casserole and some Mad About You. Yes my friends, just me and my comfort food and my couch, enjoying a night off. Thanks for all the prayers. You gave me my emotional heimlich, even if you didn't know that's what you were doing.

Feels Like Home

Well, I have come into a little more free time for myself. The rest of the Zapapi clan have embarked on the long drive back to Denver and Mary has gone in search of an eyebrow waxing, willing to brave the intersection of 82nd and Allisonville for some good self-indulgence. Mimi and Grandad have settled in for their afternoon nap, so I sit here pretending to work on my presentation for grand rounds next week. But really, how does postoperative ileus even begin to compare to blogging? Not very well, I tell you.

Whenever I get the urge to blog lately, it has to do with this feeling inside me to share what it is that makes me feel like I'm at home. It could be something as simple as having a cup of coffee and a Sunday paper to read. Doesn't happen as often as I'd like even though it only takes that little bit to bring some peace and a sigh of happiness into my life. But what I wanted to try to put into words after a few days with my crazy family are the little quirks and unique little tidbits that make them the most wonderful people in the world. What makes me laugh and smile and what makes my heart swell with the sense that I belong. I thought with many engagements and babies happening among family and friends, which has my mind on my own (seemingly distant) future, I'd present my family as I would to an outsider meeting them for the first time. You know, the frantic prep time in the car on the way to meet the future in-laws. Sort of. I'm not going to be able to hit on everybody because it would take until departure time tomorrow. Here are some highlights:

Uncle Dave is a great story teller. Especially when he's talking about Sammy D, his adorable, precocious grandson. (Papa, I got your whoop-butt right here. Papa, I had to poop. And I did. On the big potty. Do you know why? Cause I'm the man.) Aunt Judy makes the best deviled eggs on the planet. Hands down. The two of them combine to make the most hysterical CatchPhrase team ever. Ever. Matt and Jim may look like two different species, but they are in fact brothers. Aunt Ca missed her calling as a nun. Always ask her to pray for you.

My dad has a lot of sisters. Try hard to keep them straight. Don't touch Aunt Marianne's coffee mug. See if Aunt Gail can guess your Myers-Briggs personality. Stand up straight. Do you like salad? Watch out if Grandad asks to play gin. He'll slaughter you with his eyes closed and then act all innocent. Don't let Brian or Patrick near anything that could be considered a projectile weapon, namely wrapping paper. If Mimi offers you a cookie, or a piece of fudge, or a candy bar, be careful about accepting because she'll be around an hour later asking the same thing. I think all the outlaws are permanently stuck in adolescence. At least they are always the first adults with the paper crowns on their heads.

Grab as many sticky buns as possible. They go fast. But don't take the ones without nuts. Those are for Carrie. You're better off starting the food line than trying to be polite and letting somebody else go first. Trust me. Not because you get the best food, but because otherwise Aunt Patty might beat you up. Brad and Mike like to punch each other. They used to punch Patrick until he took up bodybuilding. Aunt Julie, the loudmouth of the bunch, somehow has the quietest sneeze. It's where Mary gets it from.

I think I'm going to stop there because I realize that some of the stuff I might say would be construed negatively on paper (or the screen) when really I mean it lovingly and positively. And other stuff would just take too long to explain. Besides, I'm ready to get back to my book. And Mary thinks I'm in here writing a frickin' novel. So that's it. My nostalgia is gone anyway, because I got interrupted halfway through with the task of putting Calcium Citrate pills in Mimi and Grandad's med trays. And while I'm more than happy to do that, the homey mood was gone when I sat back down. Hope everyone had a lovely Christmas.

Christmas Bliss

I have five minutes before Christmas dinner is ready. Kind of an anticlimactic part of the day anyway after the last crazy 24 hours. I wanted to at least comment that I love everything about Christmas in Indiana. The one-at-a-time present unwrapping paired with the obligatory and yet sincere "oh, that's perfect" or "what a great color for you, Dad." It's pretty funny and yet makes me feel so at home. I love the wrapping paper fights and the paper crowns and listening to my cousins laugh. Watching all the little kiddos running around picking up the long-established family traditions.

Oops, that's all I had time for. Time for food. More to come. I hope.

How NOT to spend a day off

I got a letter yesterday stuck in my door saying that for the next week, there would be construction guys doing work on the balcony above me. The letter lied. The guys have been electric sawing and hammering and what-not on MY balcony ALL DAY. It started out promising when their music of choice was Transsiberian Orchestra. But that lasted for one song and has segued into music reminiscent of the derelict painter boys that I worked with at Regis several summers ago. You know, the kind of music that gives you a headache after one verse.

Why have you been home all day? you may ask. Well, today marks the very first day that I have ever called in sick to work. I couldn't even do that right. After a miserable day yesterday, I came home and got 11 hours of sleep, determined to go back to work today. I lasted about an hour before deciding that I wasn't gonna make it. So I still got the benefit of waking up at 5. Don't worry. Here's been my day since then:

Drink tea, watch Mad About You, take a nap, take some drugs, more tea, more Mad About You, another nap, eat soup, more tea, more drugs, eat some ice cream, discover cold feels better than hot, try to nap and get disturbed by aforementioned hammering and sawing, watch Pride and Prejudice (with subtitles because I can't hear anything), drink more tea, more drugs, drive to Starbucks for a Frappucino because I'm out of ice cream, and that brings us to now. I'm about due for more drugs. And because of all the tea, I think I've gone to the bathroom about every half hour except when I've been napping.

Despite the tea and the ice cream and the soup and the Frappucino, my throat still feels like somebody ripped it out, blew it up to twice its normal size, shredded it with a razor, and stuck in back in my body. It has never hurt so bad in my life. If I never had to swallow again, I'd be a happy camper. Since that's not likely, I think I'll try some more soup. And maybe another nap. I hate being sick.

On the plus side, my voice sounds less like a man today. Mostly because it sounds less like anything today since I can hardly speak. "I'm speechless. That never happens!" Okay, I'm done. Back to the couch.

Wish List

Things I probably won't ever buy for myself, but totally would if money were no issue and if I weren't so reluctant on self-indulgent purchases:

• Cowboy boots- I don't have anywhere to wear them except the once every so many years that I go to the rodeo, but I would totally love to pick some out and pretend to be a cowgirl.
• Another soccer jersey- probably HAO or Hope Solo, and maybe I'd wait until the WPS started and pick my two or three favorite players (hopefully on different teams) and get their respective jerseys.
• The entire Harry Potter series in hardcover- this is probably the most likely on the list, and I already have book 7. I'll just probably buy one at a time every year or so once I have a real job, until the collection is complete.
• A horse- I don't really feel like this one needs an explanation. Of course, to go along with this, I'd need a saddle (maybe one English and one Western), bridle, blankets, new riding clothes, probably a cowboy hat. You know, the works.
  
• A leather jacket- all through college, I told myself that my graduation present to myself would be a leather jacket, a Lexus, or a house, depending on how flush with money I was. I bought none of the above (although my Honda sorta looks like the RX-300).
• A vacation home- either in the mountains, or maybe Pacific Northwest or New England or Kentucky or South Carolina. Somewhere, anywhere, to take extended trips away in a place that I could still call home. Who knows, maybe I'd buy the lakehouse and fix it up a little so the basement didn't scare me and the guest house didn't remind me of bugs. A time share would be okay too.
  
• Diamond earrings- I just have such a hard time justifying that purchase when I'm not much of a jewelry person to begin with. Maybe someday.
• Copa Mundials- Like the cowboy boots, something I would never wear. But if I could drop $100 on cleats, I could probably afford to play in some adult league. This is the least likely on the list, especially since I have a brand new pair of kangaroo leather Diadora kicks in my closet. Seriously, even the horse is more likely.
• A motorcycle- for my future husband, not for me. I don't know, something about motorcycles is super-attractive to me.
  
• A giant Emile Bellet painting- for my beach house. Or my incredibly well-decorated future living room. :)

Well, that's enough of a list to start. I'm going to indulge in a chick flick now. Still trying to decide, but I'll probably flip a coin. Cheers!

Please leave your message after the beep

I got a phone call from my boss today after work. He wanted to pass along a story of two people who were found dead in a Steak 'n' Shake. Weirdest voice mail I ever received. (He had been in Iowa City last week and I told him to stop at the Steak 'n' Shake in Coralville but there was horrible traffic so he didn't get the chance on his way back through to Omaha.)

That's all. Just wanted a record somewhere of the strange call. I think my next blog shall be things I would buy myself if money weren't an issue. But that's for another day. Maybe tomorrow actually, since I'm taking the day off.

Chuck vs. the Ex, here I come!

Of angels

Today when I got to work I had 15 patients. By the time I got around to printing their med lists, I had 14. She wasn't my first patient to die, but she was the first to evoke tears of grief before I managed to pull myself together and get ready for rounds. No, I didn't break down and bawl. She had been a patient a couple weeks ago for an eval, and was discharged as healthy as a baby can be who needs a liver and small bowel transplant. She was admitted last night for reasons unknown to me, but obviously she didn't return as healthy as she left. I'm mildly grateful that the first child I lost was an eval who had only been a patient for a couple days. I have several patients who have been with me the whole month, and while I wouldn't say I'm "close" to them or their parents, I think their deaths would have hit me much harder. Of course, it's tragic to lose a three-month old, regardless of how well you know them. It was with these sad thoughts that I left for home this evening.

I turned on my car to Trans-Siberian Orchestra rocking out the Christmas tunes. I traded my thoughts for ones of a more cheerful nature and beat my fingers to the music. As I was pulling into the parking lot at my apartment, I reached the end of "Have Yourself A Merry Little Christmas." After a year of waffling, I have come to the conclusion that this is indeed my new favorite Christmas carol. I still hold a special place in my heart for the memories of Tennessee Christmas. And O Holy Night will always be near the top (it's genetic, dontcha know). But Have Yourself A Merry Little Christmas sparks certain emotions in me that are singular to that song. It brings cascading images of couples strolling hand-in-hand down the sidewalk as snowflakes slowly fall, of a crackling fireplace, of families laughing as a puppy plows through the wrapping paper, of a horse-drawn sleigh, hot cocoa, mistletoe, everything it means to be home. The song is equal parts romance and nostalgia to me. How can it not be my favorite? The deciding factor that clinched the deal was the fact that I love the song no matter who sings it. Other Christmas songs (or any song for that matter) are dependent upon the artist who is bringing the words to life. Take for example Little Drummer Boy. Jars of Clay? Brilliant! Ashlee and Jessica Simpson? Not so much. Granted, I don't love every version of HYAMLC (so much faster), but for the most part, it warms my heart if it's sung by man, woman, old, young, boy band, whoever.

And with visions of sugarplums dancing in my head, I'm going to have dinner and sit on my couch and relax until Chuck is on. And then I'll have a different source of romance and nostalgia to occupy my time.