Livin' on a Prayer...

At this time last year, I wasn't even sure if I would be able to enter the respiratory program, let alone pay for it. No matter how I added up the numbers (I'm just like my father... and I add the numbers quite often!), it always appeared that we would come up short financially. Yet, somehow we made it thorough. Time and time again I was sure that all was lost, but then money seemed to come out of nowhere, and bills managed to get paid. On nearly half a dozen occasions I wished I had blogged about it, but I never did.

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The most recent blessing was when Randy and I received a letter stating that we had an old savings account worth nearly $800 that was going to be sent back to the state unless we contacted them. Seriously! It was just enough money to cover the rest of the bills we had due at the time! Yet it never fails that when the money gets low, I start to doubt. I wonder if God is finally going to let us fall. I wonder if the grace I am provided will suddenly be inversely proportionate to the sin in my life. (If that's the case, I'm toast!) I wonder if it's all just been a a really good string of luck, and the well has simply run dry. I find myself doubting even in the face of overwhelming evidence.

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The irony is that my name: Joanna Joan (I don't know why my parents did it either) means "God is gracious"... and because the name is obviously the same name twice, the full meaning of my name is "God is gracious, God is gracious". Often in the Bible a writer will use a word or group of words over and over to make a point. Maybe that's why I have the same meaning twice. Maybe it's there to remind me that grace is just that: Grace! It isn't earned, it isn't bought, and (if you know me at all) you can't smooth talk your way into grace either! That's the funny thing about grace. It just is.

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So here I sit adding up the numbers again... telling myself, "it just aint gonna happen this time there is no way the numbers are going to add up!" Sure, I made it through college. Sure we did it on a budget that was impossible. But now here I sit again wondering how Grace will find it's way into the picture. I'll let you know...

Who Flung Poo?

Ever wonder what it's like to watch a heavily intoxicated woman who was believed to be passed out on a gurney suddenly wake up, roll onto her side, drop trou, and perform her best Valsalva Maneuver? It is freaking hilarious... if, in fact, you are not hit with her projectile fecal matter.

Pismo and the Family!

Randy and I spent a wonderful weekend away at Pismo Beach. We were lucky enough to join the "fam" at the beach for food and fun! As usual, there was more food that we could possibly eat and every bite was perfect! We met up with Randy's family, including aunt, uncle, and cousins on Saturday morning. The drive up the coast was just over three hours and although the weather was a bit cool and windy, it was great to feel the sunshine and smell the saltwater! Not long after finding our campsite, we drove north to visit with my parents who were at a local art show. I was (of course) thrilled to head down to the pier to partake of fresssshhh calamari and oysters! They were so tender, Randy and I plowed through the entire order in no time at all. I can say, however, that it will be a while before we do that again... we ate sooo much! Of course we had to top the calamari binge off with salt water taffy! Thankfully Randy and I both like different flavors, so we didn't have to share... ok, ok... Randy didn't have to share with ME because I didn't really like the flavors HE picked out. So in response to his lack of selection, I only allowed him to sniff the wrapper of one of my candies, just so he could get an idea of how good it was! Delish! The drive home was the only downer of the weekend. Our caravan pulled out at 11 AM and we didn't arrive home until nearly 7PM. It was long and slow. Fortunately we had walkie talkies to amuse ourselves with. In our caravan of four (two trucks with fifth-wheel trailers, one SUV with a camper, and our little car) each vehicle had a walkie talkie with a one-mile radius. We all picked "call names" but I couldn't keep any of them straight. Randy rolled his eyes every five minutes when I asked him who was who... especially when I couldn't remember my own! I finally wrote them all down on a napkin to keep them straight. I think I may have my mother's short-term memory issues! All in all, it was an absolute blast and we are already gearing up for our next family event! We can't wait to get our own trailer. Hopefully next summer we can get one!

Big Bad Marine...

Today I was called into surgery to run a test on a patient immediately before he went under "the knife". Upon entering the surgery department, it is mandatory that everyone gown up in PPE (personal protective equipment) which consists of booties, gown, gloves, mask, and fluffy blue hat. I know it's silly, but I just love walking around in the whole getup! After "gowning up" I was directed to my patient and as I entered the room I looked around the curtain and saw a 6' 4" man (his feet hung off the gurney) with shoulders that barely fit between the railings. Despite being in his 70's he was quite an impressive man! (He later told me that he was a marine... he fought in Korea) So of course I said, "Oh look at us, we wore the same outfit to your surgery!" He chuckled and then replied, "my wife would love a picture of me in this stupid hat... she'd use it as blackmail!" We chatted further as I connected all of the wires to various parts of his body... and just before I started the test he said, "This is the third damn surgery I've had to fix this problem." and without missing a beat I said, "Well, getting a sex-change operation usually doesn't just happen overnight." I think he stopped breathing for a second or two... and in that moment I wasn't sure if this old Marine was going to knock me over! On no... had I crossed the line? Did my big freaking mouth just get me into a mountain of trouble? Nah, I made a good read on him... he laughed so loudly that the surgeon came into the room to see what the problem was. Immediately I focused my eyes on the floor and attempted the posture of a wallflower. Confused, the surgeon turned around and walked out, and my patient proceeded to tell me some locker-room story like I was one of the guys! I love patients like that!

The Graduate!

Yeaaaahhhh my team!

Quiet, please! I'm napping.

Today was the first day in nearly a year that I could lie in bed all day, if I wanted to! Around 3:30 PM (while I was beginning my second nap for the day) I realized something... I could do this four days a week if I so desired! My career only mandates that I work three days a week. (Yes folks, full time is only three days a week!) Not that I would... but if I wanted to, I could seriously watch America's Next Top Model marathon all day, four times a week. It's nice to know that I have the option, ya know, if I really wanted to.

I did it!

January 2003. I had just received my Real Estate license a month prior, and my first sale was already in the middle of escrow. I was representing the buyers as they purchased their first home, and they were beginning to freak out on me. They had a million questions, and I had only a few answers. Things were not going as smoothly as I had hoped. In a desperate attempt to make my buyers happy, I enlisted another agent into the deal to help me with my buyers. The new agent quickly transferred the entire sale into her name and walked away with over 50% of my commission. I was devastated. I had just been royally screwed. Welcome to the life of a salesman.

January 7th 2003. I was still upset about the recent hostile takeover of my sale and I was sitting at the front desk of my real estate office answering phones and hoping to catch a few new leads. It was a Monday morning, and the phone hadn't made a sound in over an hour. I wandered outside and picked up the morning newspaper and returned to the front desk to enjoy the local news. Somewhere in the paper I noticed an advertisement for a Respiratory Care Program. On a whim I called the number, and my journey began.

March 11, 2003. My first day of Introduction to Respiratory Care. I was back at college, excited about this new career, and terrified to tell my parents (and my in-laws) that I wanted to do something new AGAIN. I managed to keep my new plan to myself for a while. Much like placing a fish into a new tank of water, I decided to slowly ease my parents into this new idea. I made mention of it a few times and within a few weeks they seemed supportive of my new direction.

May 18, 2006. I finished my journey. I learned that sacrifice will pay off. I learned that it is possible to take 27 units in one semester, work a part time job and still manage at 3.3 GPA! I learned that
CaO2 = (0.003 x PaO2) + (1.34 x Hb x SaO2)! I learned that my life is truly a living example of the grace of Christ. I learned that my husband often gives much more than he gets. I learned that my sister and I are more alike that I ever thought possible. I learned that my in-laws didn't care that I was tired and frustrated, I'd better get a good grade on every exam, NO EXCUSES. I learned that I can survive on only 4 hours of sleep per night for 8 months in a row. I learned that the most valuable thing my parents ever gave me was a willingness to listen to my fears understand my mistakes and and never judge me. They provided me the confidence to push forward when the odds seemed against me.

I know that some people will never see my achievement as a huge accomplishment. In fact, someone said to me the other day, "uh, you are still going there?" But for me, today was a day of completion. Because of today, I am able to define myself like never before. I have found value in myself, I have found a future for my life, I have found the confidence to set and achieve goals I would never have tried before.

How Tanning Salons Are Like Drugs...

Today I went to join a new tanning salon... it's a real fancy shmancy place (but because it just opened, I only paid $10 for my first month) anywhoo... fancy shmancy place and all of the tanning beds are the stand-up kind. This was pretty revolutionary to me. The last time I tanned was, like, 5 years ago... so it's been a while, but I do recall that in the tanning beds where you lie down, it is easy to get those white stripes across the sides of your legs. Those of you who are not card-carrying members of the beefcake club will not understand this, but the sides of your body just don't get enough light... so you are forced to rotate your body around and around in the bed (imagine a giant pig being roasted on a spit) just to get an even tan. Well apparently those days are now over for me. So today I signed up and did my first 6 minute session in the standing tanning booth. I spent those six minutes contorting my body in different positions so I didn't' have any white areas. (Imagine the Karate Kid with his arms above his head, and one leg up in front.) Because of my creativity in body positioning, and my lack of knowledge in the tanning bed technology, (apparently tanning beds, much like drugs... now stronger than they were twenty years ago) I am charred in more than just the usual areas. It seriously hurts to sit down. I didn't know that the inside of my butt cheeks were capable of picking up UV rays. But they did. Like a giant satellite. Oh, and the pictures??? Yeah, the one of the left is how I picture myself. Unfortunately, reality may be more like the one on the right. And, NO... that is not a picture of me on the right... heavens, no! Look at those eyebrows! Just wrong.

Time of Death... 19:34

I am convinced that death is the great equalizer in life. On many occasions, I have been a part of a team attempting to re-start a heart or get a patient breathing again. Unfortunately, many times we just can't overcome the damage that has been done to the body, and the time of death is pronounced. Normally I can deal with death. (As long as it doesn't hit too close to home.) I also understand that an experience that brings a huge rush of adrenaline to those of us who work in an emergency situation, is the same experience that has just crushed the lives of the remaining family and friends of the victim. So after the pronouncement of death, I try to take a moment and recognize the depth of what transpired. What I consistently see is that no matter the decisions an individual makes in life, it always ends the same way. Baby, it aint pretty. Death doesn't have to come in the form of violence to be ugly either. If your heart just stops, somebody (like me) is going to hop on top of you and force your chest down nearly 2 inches with all of my strength. I am going to do this nearly 100 times a minute until the Doctor says to stop. Sometimes we go for nearly an hour. Feel your chest. Try to make it move inward even 1/4 of an inch. You are guaranteed that I am going to snap a few ribs while I work. I have done this for little old men, heroine users, teenagers, state prisoners, and church pastors. Life may have been different for each of them, but death was the same. Every time.

Last night, the pronouncement came at 19:35. Just after 7:30 in the evening somebody, somewhere in the waiting room, lost the one person in this world who means everything to them. It struck me how quick my world could change. But through it all, I am convinced even more than ever, that there is something more than just this life. I am lucky to have moments like this that cause me to occasionally re-evaluate my faith and often strengthen it.

Situational Irony.

This morning, I was among one of the lucky few employees with orders in the Psych Ward! I waited until after breakfast (and morning meds) to drag my EKG machine up to the 5400 floor, and then began the obligatory search for my patient. After catching and tying down my prey (just kidding, I didn't really have to catch her... I had an orderly do it for me) I started explaining how the test would go. While performing the EKG exam on this female "inmate", she mentioned to me that she was here because she wanted to die and also considered killing a few others. As usual, I responded with something like, "Well, we are just lucky to have you here. I'm happy that you are safe now". While this may seem like somewhat of a strange conversation, I can assure you that this is totally par for the course. But I nearly laughed out loud when she told me that she was convinced she had a heart problem, and was afraid that she was going to die! The same woman who WANTED TO KILL HERSELF was afraid she was going to die from a heart attack! Gotta love it.

Church Lady? Not me.

So... I just had en epiphany! I realized why I don't go to church... because I am afraid of being judged for who I am. I know that sounds like a total cop-out, but I am really afraid of not fulfilling some perceived "church-lady" image. I am sure that half of the time there is no judgment being passed (ok. maybe 1/3 of the time), but how am I supposed to explain to the women's bible study group why my husband has 6 beers on tap in our BACKYARD!?

Revenge of the "Toe"

Have you ever had one of those days when the shit just hit the fan? How about while you were standing under the fan? Even worse, as it hit, everybody said the shit was yours? Welcome to my life. (OK, so I admit I may have tossed a few turds into the mix, but what came out was hardly what I expected.) If you have followed my blog for any length of time, I am sure you have made the observation that I have very strong opinions. Occasionally my opinions tend to get me into a giant mess much like the one I'm in right now. And what does this mess involve?

Enter: Camel Toe, Stage Right.

Last weekend I was having a conversation with a co-worker about my experience with the respiratory program. As you can imagine, I voiced some of my opinions and then tossed in my personal take on Camel Toe. I said that I found her behavior thoroughly exasperating. (It’s possible that I was at bit more crude with my language. I think I used the term, "strong dislike". Ok, ok, I said that,” I can't find one redeemable quality about her.") I am of the opinion that she has elected herself the queen of morality, yet somehow does not abide by her own code. Because of that observation, (and having been the recipient of a multitude of nasty "shushes") I don't like her. Oh, and she has been in possession of insider information (aka tests from earlier this year) and passes them out to her little group. I may have mentioned that to the Co-worker as well. Based on her principles alone (or lack thereof) I am not one to judge. I just can't stand the fact that the Toe has gone to the program director (whom we will refer to as PD) on many occasions regarding student ethics and behavior, yet she crawls around in the darkness with her insider information. Unfortunately, what I failed to acknowledge before making such accusation to my co-worker, was that my co-worker was also my professor. Apparently this was one of the few times that he happened to actually be listening to me. My bad. Evidently Co-Worker went to PD last night after class. And the PD went to Camel Toe. As can be expected, within 45 seconds of Camel Toe's trial and execution (she denies all and was cleared... duh), the gossip and rumors were spreading like wildfire.

The rumor was: That I had gone to the professor and told him that Camel Toe had copies of the final which our class was about to take. And that PD had changed the final. I don't think that the class was all that concerned with the Toe as much as they were all concerned with their own grades in the class. Over the past few weeks, our instructor for the class had given us various "hints" regarding the final, and we were pretty well prepared for it. But if PD changed everything, it was possible that we might have studied all of the wrong information. And this could be bad. Real bad. Fail one class in this program, you fail the whole program. You can only imagine the tension among the students.

What happened last night was the phone-tree from hell. The Toe told Classmate 1, Classmate 1 told Classmate 2 and 3. As you can assume it just exploded from there! Within minutes I was Public Enemy #1.

I was made aware of this upon my arrival to class this morning. In a class of 34 people, only one person was willing to find out from me personally if the accusation was true. Nice. In the end, the exam had not been changed and the rumor totally untrue. In a group of the most dysfunctional people I have ever met, I am convinced that my exoneration will never be complete. People will probably hate me and surely gossip behind my back. How is different from the previous months? It's not. On the up-side, I don't have to take summer school with any of those jackasses because unlike 31 of the 34 members of my class, I ACTUALLY PASSED THE ASSESSMENT EXAM, and I am not required to attend. HA! (Sorry Kel. You know I’ve got nothin' but love for ya, but you suffer alone.)

I realize that I will never get clemency for my action. Probably don't deserve it anyways. I am even OK with the fact that people dislike me in a BIG way. I just want them to hate me for a legitimate reason. Not some stupid rumor.

Camel Toe vs. Soy Crisps

Two weeks from today I take my last final... so I can't really get back into the blog-of-things till then, right now I am barely hanging on to the edge of sanity!.

Over the past 9 months I have spent time with some of the most useless human beings I have ever met. They are my classmates. Don't get me wrong here, there are a handful that I really enjoy. But the rest of them can all eat poo. As it turns out, many of them have the same feelings towards me. Not just me... but my trusty sidekick, Kelly (that's her ~~>). Kelly and I met the first day of class, and by the end of that day we knew that we had found a friend for life. (By "life" I mean till June 16th... graduation!) We do EVERYTHING together.

In a classroom of nearly 32 students, there is one person who constantly lands on the top of our list of people to annoy; primarily because it is just so easy to do. She has had the same haircut since 1979 (I saw her wedding pics) and that is why we always refer to her (behind her back of course) as Farrah Fawcett. Her most noted crime is that she has a perpetual camel toe (click to see what it is, if you don't already know) that extends to her rear end, and I must say... this woman "deflowers" herself every time she wears a pair of jeans. It's just wrong. Now, please don't find me so shallow as to think that the "toe" alone is enough of a reason to torment her. Honestly, it wasn't until she personally appointed herself, "The Shusher/ Courtesy Police" that we really decided to take action. She takes every possible opportunity to regularly shush all members of the class and on occasion has been known to shuffle her way to the front of the class to make an "announcement" about how rude and annoying we all are to her. With that in mind...

It was Monday morning when I dragged myself out of bed around 5:30 AM, after only 3.5 hours of restless sleep. You can only imagine my mood! By the time I arrived to class, I had sat in traffic for nearly an hour and then hiked 15 minutes from my car to the classroom! When I finally arrived to class I quietly began to settle in for the next 8 hours of my day. By that time, our prof. had started to fill us in on what we would be covering. Farrah usually records EVERY lecture with her trusty tape recorder. Apparently she wasn't sure if she was cued up properly so she started to play that tape OUT LOUD, IN CLASS! I was distracted and didn't listen to what the prof. was saying. This was all made abundantly clear when I raised my hand to ask a question about something he had JUST covered. Farrah then took the opportunity to turn around and tell me that maybe I should, "Learn how to listen a little bit better". I was stunned. Before I could fire off a snide comeback, Kelly stepped in and told her, "Nobody could hear anything over that stupid recorder". Farrah had totally crossed the line, and we were now at war.

Unfortunately, nobody realized what a huge arsenal I brought with me to school! In my rush to get out the door and in my car, I decided to skip breakfast and just grab a bag of Soy Crisps to munch on in class. As it turns out, opening the bag was the quietest thing I did from then on. Once the lecture got started, I reached over and grabbed the bag and tore the whole thing open. Five people turned around to give me a dirty look. I smiled and continued on. (Fortunately the prof. is so self absorbed that he didn't even notice. He wouldn't care anyway, he only talks so he can hear himself! And since I feed him regularly in exchange for tutoring, he knew that he was getting some food out of this.) I handed a pile to Kelly and we started CRUNCHING away. We ate half of the bag with our mouths open. It was the most wonderful revenge I could imagine! For twenty minutes Farrah had to suffer while we crunched, munched, and swallowed. The cherry on top is when Kelly realized that if she pulled the straw out of her breakfast smoothie and sucked real hard, she could make a fantastic slurping noise too. Knowing that Farrah can't concentrate if there is ANY noise around her, Kelly and I are bringing celery to class for our final next week. Game on, Camel Toe!