tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-37280448684204597772024-02-07T17:21:59.023-08:00Cadavers and CoffeeThis blog is dedicated to the multiple topics that flood my mind on a daily basis. This is my journey from teaching, to returning to college to become a nurse. Please join me. The name? It was catchy. Consider this your daily dose of coffee with a friend.Sarah Bricehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08918500786806804108noreply@blogger.comBlogger289125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3728044868420459777.post-7149975006654298282016-06-03T08:51:00.000-07:002016-06-03T08:51:51.810-07:00That's a Wrap!Today marks my final post on this blog. I began with the mission in mind to journal my way through nursing school about anything and everything that crossed my mind. The posts came further and further apart as I got busier with school/clinical requirements, but I think I have accomplished my mission here. Since I do love to write, likely over the summer, once I am officially licensed with a job lined up, I will begin a new, fresh blog. But, I figured I owed it all to you, and to myself, to write you an ending to this part of my story.<br />
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Four years ago I left teaching with very mixed feelings. In many ways I loved my job, and in every way, I loved my students, but I had gone into teaching simply by chance. It was a degree I could earn while working full-time at a dental office. It was funny, because I always thought teaching wasn't my passion, and that someday I would go into healthcare. As a teen I dreamed of life as a doctor. I didn't plan to have children, but I wanted this amazing career in medicine. I wanted to make a difference.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEizAeH2zG1dDidXK4NKzYqGYtV3gVaAJKpsnlAihNYEck0dS4FP4CoPneqGAPTYxPOFlIF0P1xxcEuxdXHgLXMhek3hP_dj_FG1WD2OBT-RC7eKRfEmj7nooKo4sg5iaFNv5_InKyOkjVA/s1600/me.jpe" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEizAeH2zG1dDidXK4NKzYqGYtV3gVaAJKpsnlAihNYEck0dS4FP4CoPneqGAPTYxPOFlIF0P1xxcEuxdXHgLXMhek3hP_dj_FG1WD2OBT-RC7eKRfEmj7nooKo4sg5iaFNv5_InKyOkjVA/s1600/me.jpe" /></a>Life is funny, and this journey back to college (yeah, yeah I am a professional student) has done much more than teach me how to be a nurse. It was a journey that I needed to teach myself (especially after a few very shaky personal years) <i>how to be me. </i>Nursing school is difficult. It is not so much the content, but the sheer amount of it, not so much the skills, but the need for accuracy and safety. It is not how to have a great day in patient care, but how you hold up when everything goes wrong. Nursing school scared me to death at times. I am more of a book learner, and would literally shake every time I had to perform a skill. I worried that I would fail out due to the "hands-on" nature of things, so I would practice over and over at home-injecting oranges, hanging IVs, mixing vials of (fake) insulin, having my boys be pretend patients. I have never in my life been so challenged, never been <i>so alive. </i>I am amazed at all I have learned, though there will always be more, but mostly I am amazed at the other things I have taken away. In nursing school I found ME.<br />
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Nursing school has fulfilled me. It has given me confidence. While I am by no means an expert, I could save a life if called upon, counsel a patient, console a family, know which medications interact, probably even diagnose a few things. Take away thoughts from the past few years:<br />
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<li>It took being beyond busy to learn how to slow down and appreciate life. </li>
<li>I am stronger than I ever thought possible.</li>
<li>Making a difference is not about what job title I have, but about how I live my life. I have already made a difference to all the teens and young adults who still keep in touch with me, who I used to teach. Seeing their successes and hearing their stories, means maybe I helped in some way.</li>
<li>I didn't think teaching was my passion, but it turns out it is. Nursing is full of patient teaching, and guess which part of nursing is my absolute favorite part? Guess which part I excel in?</li>
<li>Nursing has actually calmed me down. It is hard to take some problems seriously when you have seen the suffering of others. Talk about perspective.</li>
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Where do I go from here? Well, I officially graduate in a week, and am the closing speaker at the ceremony, and then hope to take my boards to become licensed in July, and to begin my new career in August. I am not sure where yet. I have had many interviews, and a handful of callbacks. Right now there are four openings I would seriously consider, and my life could go in any of these directions. I think I will get more than one offer, and then I will need to decide. Each job has pros and cons and implications for my future (and whether I go on for more schooling at some point as well).<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgWRuNp9x0yrdTGmfoUqMBgOE8N2g08fRQ_t0QFGu_xRrYeg0VklvCZhq8mGuucG4acqmKLdaw6luWhOU-V34URuWaiOJd3O7Hok3Cmt-uw71Y0OGI0sZgdeUcOK-ROHX6z0vEAIIseB0I/s1600/god%2527s+way.jpe" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgWRuNp9x0yrdTGmfoUqMBgOE8N2g08fRQ_t0QFGu_xRrYeg0VklvCZhq8mGuucG4acqmKLdaw6luWhOU-V34URuWaiOJd3O7Hok3Cmt-uw71Y0OGI0sZgdeUcOK-ROHX6z0vEAIIseB0I/s1600/god%2527s+way.jpe" /></a>In the end, they are all great paths to take, and mine will be carefully and prayerfully selected. The possibilities are varied. Perhaps I will be a labor & delivery nurse and help bring lives into the world, or an urgent care nurse calming patients in the hustle and bustle and worry, a nurse at a cardiology clinic assisting patient's with state-of-the-art devices to keep their hearts pumping, or a nurse at an eating disorder facility counseling young women as they fight internal battles...or maybe none of these and something else entirely. Maybe one day I will be a nurse educator, training baby nurses, or a nurse practitioner, seeing my own patients, or assisting on medical missions. Maybe I will work part-time as an RN, and substitute teach part-time (yes, I have actually considered this...). Maybe I will go straight to graduate school as I work, or maybe I will set it aside and stop and enjoy life, knowing that saying no doesn't mean never, it just means not right now. I am trying to not rule anything out, because God's plan is always much bigger than my own. Wherever I go, it will be somewhere I feel I can excel, somewhere full of patient education, with a good amount of time for my family, and enough time off for me to keep seeing the world.<br />
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This is not really an ending, but a beginning. Beginnings are exciting. It is the feeling of a beautiful journal full of blank pages to fill, and I am excited and blessed to be handed the pen to start filling them.<br />
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My thoughts go with all of you. THANK YOU for reading my journey. Thank you for your support. I hope you will follow me again when I start anew. For now, that's a wrap!<br />
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Sarah Bricehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08918500786806804108noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3728044868420459777.post-55309354467370110572016-01-01T09:57:00.004-08:002016-01-01T09:57:49.722-08:00The Best New Year's ResolutionPeople love New Years. I do too. I mean, first of all, it's my birthday, and I am not one of those just ignore my birthday kind of people. At all. I am a scream it from the rooftops, open presents, have an entire special day birthday person. I may even be known to refer to New Year's Eve as "Birthday Eve" to my family, and have enjoyed a tradition of ringing in the New Year with birthday hugs and kisses-though technically my mom would remind me that I was not born until 12:01 (as in noon twelve not midnight). She reminded me this every year as a kid!<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjs1AXOus8rQeX7wdpA4weowUoAF8vTbeVeJ_Zj-7yaqhX1s0BxEC3V_Ry2dic6LfUE1cPy_YAFTogMlIDGYPQyp4Gwhno9HIudBokn390pJjmAmGgUgC3Gq7Km5jR2owxwSriRIjtlGtI/s1600/images+%25281%2529.jpe" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="229" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjs1AXOus8rQeX7wdpA4weowUoAF8vTbeVeJ_Zj-7yaqhX1s0BxEC3V_Ry2dic6LfUE1cPy_YAFTogMlIDGYPQyp4Gwhno9HIudBokn390pJjmAmGgUgC3Gq7Km5jR2owxwSriRIjtlGtI/s320/images+%25281%2529.jpe" width="320" /></a>I used to love New Year's resolutions too. There's something about that fresh new start that is synonymous with making a bunch of goals for the upcoming year. I don't think that is a bad thing at all. I am constantly setting goals, and re-evaluating my life. It is just something I enjoy doing. I used to love resolutions but it became more of a wish list, and often one that I honestly could not or would not achieve. Things like: lose 30 pounds, write a book, and travel the world would be things I'd aspire to. Umm, let's be slightly more realistic. One of the most useful things I've learned in nursing school pertains to goal setting, and that goals must be SMART (it's an acronym-nurses LOVE acronyms) for specific, measurable, achievable, realistic, and timely. For example, "eat healthy" is not a smart goal, but eat 5 servings of fruits and vegetables each day is. I digress, slightly. The point is, I don't really care about losing 30 pounds, but would love to lose 5-10, eat more fruits and vegetables, and tone up, I am not sure I will ever have the attention span to write a book (I'd have to stick with the same topic for more than 2 sentences!). Blogging is much more realistic for me. I can't afford to nor do I have time to travel the world this year, but I can visit another state or two or maybe even leave the country again (I did pretty good on this last year with my Italy trip!).<br />
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Last New Year's I wrote 4 words on a whiteboard on my fridge-my resolution: "<span style="color: #ea9999;">Laugh more, stress less.</span>" I think, that for the most part, I achieved it. Looking back, it was not a super specific goal, but it was a good one for me. In the past I have let my own perfect expectations of how something should go ruin it when it didn't go exactly that way. I have stressed so much over things not going as planned. Rude awakening, right? It only took me 33 or so years to learn that <b>THINGS NEVER GO EXACTLY AS PLANNED</b>, and that's okay. That's great even. Barrett wasn't a plan for me, nursing wasn't a plan (not a firm one for many many years), sending the kids back to East Linn was not in the plans, and that aforementioned Italy trip was not planned until less than a week before going! The point is, plans change, things happen that are unplanned, and that we have to be flexible enough to just go with it and <i>adjust as needed</i>. It's okay, perfectly acceptable even, to not have all the answers and to say so. With the end of school in sight I am getting asked more and more "What kind of a nurse will you be?" I have NO idea. I know what I have enjoyed, I have analyzed it to death, but things change. Experiences change<i> us</i>. So, we'll see. I do have a good, honest answer to the question now though, <i>"I'll be a good one."</i><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj5skXzjLwAywkGX6QgnyObjfbMe-43Av-F5FMSmvJ87bSSaaIa8m8UBBfdccpL86lMJlW44ua3pMQQkbSKrz9UCqHt9UnuvumoLwgklSLxqHmkm_Nu_7hfNaYVrOv4KvcO7cTTjr-MOPk/s1600/new+year.jpe" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj5skXzjLwAywkGX6QgnyObjfbMe-43Av-F5FMSmvJ87bSSaaIa8m8UBBfdccpL86lMJlW44ua3pMQQkbSKrz9UCqHt9UnuvumoLwgklSLxqHmkm_Nu_7hfNaYVrOv4KvcO7cTTjr-MOPk/s400/new+year.jpe" width="400" /></a>I have spent a good point of my life planning for the future. Days and hours spent planning, but missed on living. I am not saying a plan is a bad thing-it is a good jumping off point, but I myself have lived too often looking ahead, missing what is going on RIGHT NOW. Phrases like "when it is summer", "when I graduate", "when we have the money" are uttered all too frequently. Obviously some things have to wait for the proper timing, but why not enjoy life as it happens? In 2016 many big changes will happen for me. It is the course of the timing. It <i>is </i>the proper time. I will graduate nursing school. I will start my new career. I think, maybe, I will apply to graduate school (on this, we'll see). These changes will impact my life and my family. My resolution this year though comes from a necklace my mom got me-"find joy in the journey" it says. The time will pass. New things will come to be, but in 2016 I vow to take each day at a time and notice and enjoy what is around me. Someday those things will be in the past. The sleepless nights with babies in my home? They are gone and now are missed. The short years I spent teaching? Gone and missed. The blood, sweat and tears with friends in nursing school? Soon, it will become a fond memory of a time in my life I had never been challenged so much.<br />
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I encourage you too to <span style="color: #674ea7;"><b>find joy in the journey</b></span>. Don't look so far ahead that you miss the gifts right before your eyes. Happy 2016.<br />
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Sarah Bricehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08918500786806804108noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3728044868420459777.post-86084026111067438252015-12-08T13:58:00.001-08:002015-12-08T14:11:07.451-08:00Annual Christmas Update 2015<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Hello again! It is that time of year full of Christmas cards, twinkling lights, good food, and memory-making with family. I am one of those people who loves getting cards, and especially if they contain a Christmas letter telling me how your family has been the last year. I know some people are not into that. To you I say, close the tab now, because this is <i>my </i>annual electronic version. Enjoy. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">*Disclaimer: Some of you will get REAL cards this year too, but we ordered less than last year, and the cards do not contain a letter-so this is your chance to read about our family's last year.</span></div>
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<b><span style="color: #cc0000; font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">2015 By the Numbers </span></b></div>
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<span style="color: #274e13; font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">1 new car.</span></div>
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<span style="color: #274e13; font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">1 new job.</span></div>
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<span style="color: #274e13; font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">2 new pets.</span></div>
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<span style="color: #274e13; font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">1 new school.</span></div>
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<span style="color: #274e13; font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">28 soccer games.</span></div>
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<span style="color: #274e13;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">4 clinical rotations.</span></span></div>
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<span style="color: #274e13;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">24 baseball games.</span></span></div>
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<span style="color: #274e13; font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">1 international vacation.</span></div>
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<span style="color: #274e13; font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">And a partridge in a pear tree!</span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh3oz6s9Z7KwhCChxSgomEzS4rJLl8fqE8NvpjcRiLfrgdPWrYWX-FHsj72lPJuFzRn4pkx4JBgN3U3Lb53K0puosiDXUU2dkT0V8mEYvodJLBFNnqS9Nacwss_SVxkLA452LlR8mrV_U0/s1600/IMG_4391.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh3oz6s9Z7KwhCChxSgomEzS4rJLl8fqE8NvpjcRiLfrgdPWrYWX-FHsj72lPJuFzRn4pkx4JBgN3U3Lb53K0puosiDXUU2dkT0V8mEYvodJLBFNnqS9Nacwss_SVxkLA452LlR8mrV_U0/s200/IMG_4391.JPG" width="150" /></span></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEheXAATDT9f1CVxgc49ks5gMzJzyn27Ui6wsG1gbq4negNf9SpTbWLjsCffzHBrPQNqEsIblsWjVP-SGk6zNTG7MxxoWM817Sg5v2zGAGnuQiEYpgvscaRl6ljit_9lBKWNIC2e57gujQc/s1600/IMG_5401.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEheXAATDT9f1CVxgc49ks5gMzJzyn27Ui6wsG1gbq4negNf9SpTbWLjsCffzHBrPQNqEsIblsWjVP-SGk6zNTG7MxxoWM817Sg5v2zGAGnuQiEYpgvscaRl6ljit_9lBKWNIC2e57gujQc/s200/IMG_5401.JPG" width="150" /></span></a><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Trying to think of the highlights for the last year is actually really tough because there are sooo many! I feel really blessed to say that. In the last year, Barrett and I were able to take a Spring Break road-trip through Idaho and Montana, and fell in love with many new places. No, we are not moving anytime soon, but maybe when the kids go to college! Summer was a bit tough, which I will get to soon, but we did spend a lot of time focusing on our family when we had the boys, taking trips to the beach and camping, and I did an extra clinical placement in the emergency department down in Eugene. This fall we also had a bit of a rocky start at the public school the boys have been attending the last two years, and it put a lot of heart-felt matters regarding their education front and center. Though it may have <i>looked</i> like a quick decision, the decision to move the boys back to private school at East Linn Christian Academy in November, was full of juggling finances, worry, and prayer, and a decision we had talked about making when I was done with school. If that school sounds familiar, you may recall I taught there from 2010-2012. The decision was perhaps the best parenting <b>win </b>we have ever had, and the school (as you can tell by the name) is a religious one that expects parental involvement and church attendance. Because of this, we have recently found a church we both really enjoy, and have already spent some time volunteering at various events. I think the kids are thrilled with that on all accounts, and I think it is helping us to parent better than we ever have. Win-win it seems!</span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiPTTP69V0osxrhNXBWTapVn4xpKxR46rlD8vZ_6Bp_tDa7XyZXd-KIEAP16-BHoDQwBUMfiPqg6WlsuCbjrdidIK4wPpmqK0879e0clqaJ51d9OotPwqJmcNx6dK8oxmQTsT-zBxnyDZE/s1600/12310640_10208014640995005_8574251593660036199_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><img border="0" height="150" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiPTTP69V0osxrhNXBWTapVn4xpKxR46rlD8vZ_6Bp_tDa7XyZXd-KIEAP16-BHoDQwBUMfiPqg6WlsuCbjrdidIK4wPpmqK0879e0clqaJ51d9OotPwqJmcNx6dK8oxmQTsT-zBxnyDZE/s200/12310640_10208014640995005_8574251593660036199_n.jpg" width="200" /></span></a><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">In June, I was getting ready to take finals, and Barrett got devastating news. The company, Symantec, he had worked for the past 4 years, sold off the division that Barrett worked in to a company called Veritas, and over 200 people were laid off. He was one of them. We were trying not to panic, but with me in school full-time, our only income was now going away. The first 2 months of summer were very tough as Matthew finished baseball, school wound down, and Barrett hurried to interview everywhere he could. I have never been more proud of him. At the end of July, Barrett scored a position with none other than Veritas, as a Senior Technical Consultant, a position that is work-from-home, and better salary than before, though does require some travel. He has only had to travel once so far (we've been really lucky!), to Virginia, and I did tell him if ever he has to go overseas, I am coming too! Barrett is settling into the new job, and loves the East coast hours he works, which allows him to take the boys to school and pick them up most days, help with Cub Scouts, and just be altogether more available to our family. </span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjzGFl07dgc3DBBdim7wSHATuYImJanvIAci3uTqgbX-ZBboOpxj2grSWCy6jOnQ9rP8PiQC1Y4RuiP-LK1J6ZFNpY7LCExpO8Lx6VytpqG-lTqd6hYYAEsy3pyOofgk1ik6uVxU1tzq-0/s1600/12347726_10208074547012618_4401720173234040388_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjzGFl07dgc3DBBdim7wSHATuYImJanvIAci3uTqgbX-ZBboOpxj2grSWCy6jOnQ9rP8PiQC1Y4RuiP-LK1J6ZFNpY7LCExpO8Lx6VytpqG-lTqd6hYYAEsy3pyOofgk1ik6uVxU1tzq-0/s200/12347726_10208074547012618_4401720173234040388_n.jpg" width="200" /></span></a><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"> In this past year I have been very focused on my nursing program. I have had clinical placements thus far in: oncology, orthopedics, medical/surgical, emergency, and cardiac units. In January I will be placed on the neurology floor for my regular clinical and labor & delivery for my optional clinical. I also got to experience a shift in a NICU, did partial shift with CAHOOTS (Crisis Assistance Helping Out On The Streets), volunteered at a free clinic and Thanksgiving dinner, will be shadowing a Family Nurse Practitioner for a day, and have another one shift experience in another labor and delivery unit. If it sounds crazy busy, that's because it is, and because I try to get as many things in as I can so I can decide what to do as a nurse. Still deciding. I also am the current Student Nurses Association President, so I am very involved in that, and was even a speaker at Sweet Home High's Career Day! It isn't all work though, I did get to enjoy a week in Italy this past summer with a friend! You can read about it here: <a href="http://cadaversandcoffee.blogspot.com/2015_08_01_archive.html">http://cadaversandcoffee.blogspot.com/2015_08_01_archive.html</a> . I also got a new car recently, though I might be mourning the Charger a tad bit, my new Honda CR-V is a much better economical win for all the driving I do! Hard to believe in June I will complete my program!!</span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhY-vQZ9r_lTbimUW7IWO-dpMV18Mxn_FoM9yoc0iHN60OT6dFzZABFb2dPz3GuIIS8Jlz3enFNUN1Eg43RoujJG23y8rp8Lc1GB7koEZu0lFrrb9Ej4oSurLFJCU0gGQ3SQrlX_y-V66M/s1600/IMG_5917.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhY-vQZ9r_lTbimUW7IWO-dpMV18Mxn_FoM9yoc0iHN60OT6dFzZABFb2dPz3GuIIS8Jlz3enFNUN1Eg43RoujJG23y8rp8Lc1GB7koEZu0lFrrb9Ej4oSurLFJCU0gGQ3SQrlX_y-V66M/s200/IMG_5917.JPG" width="150" /></span></a><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Matthew played baseball this past summer, and was in love! He was trained to play both as catcher and pitcher, and did so well! Baseball takes a lot of time, but we were happy to watch his team go to the regional play-offs. He is also still playing soccer, of course, and it should be interesting to attempt to balance the two sports again this coming spring! Matthew cannot wait to play sports for his school, and is hoping to be good enough next year to play with the 6-8th graders (though he'll be in 5th grade). He loves being back at East Linn, and his teacher said it feels like he has been there the whole time! Taking Bible class has lead to many deep conversations I probably would not yet have had with him, but I think this is a very good thing! He also gets to take Spanish at his new school, and loves it. </span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEimeF3UV67ujmMvra38Fxj35C8_Z4Geehcvok8CNMeVM_hu5-0bAFTQWzIZoM0aZZb_FDezHEr_vsBsSh0FsQgxb0cF3_bKsFF87eEFohmLcn1zlZ-evSpQrHfiCnkoCjfT7muNUa9SBTA/s1600/IMG_6099.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><img border="0" height="150" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEimeF3UV67ujmMvra38Fxj35C8_Z4Geehcvok8CNMeVM_hu5-0bAFTQWzIZoM0aZZb_FDezHEr_vsBsSh0FsQgxb0cF3_bKsFF87eEFohmLcn1zlZ-evSpQrHfiCnkoCjfT7muNUa9SBTA/s200/IMG_6099.JPG" width="200" /></span></a><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Isaiah is thriving after switching schools! He went from as classroom of over 25 students to one of 18. This has made a huge deal, as has having PE, Music, & Spanish to change things up a bit. He is reading the first Harry Potter book currently, and it just thrills me! Isaiah also had a great soccer season, and got to "play-up" numerous times on Matt's team. I love watching them playing together! Isaiah has discovered Minecraft (like many kids his age!), and enjoys talking all about it to Barrett. He is also thrilled to have not one, but two, German Shepherds, as we adopted a 7 year-old female, Stormy, at the end of summer. The other new pet is Ball Python, Dorothy, who lives in Matthew's room, but the boys share her. I think the only complaint little Zay has this year is that we are not going on a big trip to Maui like last Christmas. Ask this kid where he'd like to go, and Maui is the #1 answer! Maybe a family trip this summer, though we are honestly leaning toward a lake-house in Anchorage to check out Alaska (which I know, I know, is not quite the same!! Though MUCH cheaper! Haha!). </span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi0kKr8ojfv9XhuF1kdYtObiX_RziW5vcVqibfoWfeKIm7lLO3WoDjnWyfxzSyB-ZgvAfvgu_k74_IY8ZQDzQLG-LG1izNblAFxi0vG_NipP1Kyy_rX3oCmu9czVG7NCx4GacJ6OFL8Ovw/s1600/12295497_10208006622114538_3137617822331891546_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi0kKr8ojfv9XhuF1kdYtObiX_RziW5vcVqibfoWfeKIm7lLO3WoDjnWyfxzSyB-ZgvAfvgu_k74_IY8ZQDzQLG-LG1izNblAFxi0vG_NipP1Kyy_rX3oCmu9czVG7NCx4GacJ6OFL8Ovw/s640/12295497_10208006622114538_3137617822331891546_n.jpg" width="480" /></span></a><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">I think those are the highlights!I tried to include some pictures that have not been online as much. I wish you and your family a very merry Christmas, and a phenomenal, blessed 2016 filled with love and happiness. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Sincerely, </span></div>
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<i><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Sarah (and Barrett, Matthew & Isaiah)</span></i></div>
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Sarah Bricehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08918500786806804108noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3728044868420459777.post-47425576293993442142015-11-08T08:14:00.000-08:002015-11-08T08:14:19.864-08:00I am not sure I believe in coincidence...<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEieUsinMgb1YCFOL5H5HuvYf3Gon_4NPd_KtKt5g0cQO9vwLZz8GeDXvM8WQz6UDuLYfcMs-unuieyMjZ-cIFkeC2phTfFZPRrPt274sctBH_iL0XkNpdu6UHysTqJvSUNH_aLDDRbkDEg/s1600/no+coincidence.jpe" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEieUsinMgb1YCFOL5H5HuvYf3Gon_4NPd_KtKt5g0cQO9vwLZz8GeDXvM8WQz6UDuLYfcMs-unuieyMjZ-cIFkeC2phTfFZPRrPt274sctBH_iL0XkNpdu6UHysTqJvSUNH_aLDDRbkDEg/s1600/no+coincidence.jpe" /></a></div>
<span style="color: #4c1130; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="background-color: white;">I'm not entirely sure that I believe in coincidence at all. Let me tell you why.</span><br style="background-color: white;" /><br style="background-color: white;" /><span style="background-color: white;">Over 10 years ago I was, at the time, fairly happily married and my ex and I were attending church on a regular basis. When we found out that I was pregnant, we were thrilled and we decided that any children we had would be named with names from the Bible, and that we would raise the children up in the church. We had no help choosing names, in fact, I mostly chose them. First, it was Matthew, and then 2 1/2 years later, Isaiah was born, and both boys were indeed dedicated at birth in our church. Remember this, and I will come back to it.</span><br style="background-color: white;" /><br style="background-color: white;" /><span style="background-color: white;">Many of you know the story of Matthew's birth so I will not repeat it here, but did you know that my regular doctor was out on maternity leave? The doctor that ended up delivering Matthew, and saving his life, was the only doctor staffed at the entire hospital who had had a previous case of fetal-maternal hemorrhage a few years prior and the baby had been born stillborn. I do not feel that it was coincidence that I got her as my doctor on that day. I do not feel it was coincidence that she knew exactly what to do this time around.</span><br style="background-color: white;" /><br style="background-color: white;" /><span style="background-color: white;">Fast-forward about five years later. Things don't always go as planned, and I was going through a divorce. While my divorce was being finalized, I got a silly little email from </span><a href="http://match.com/" rel="noreferrer" style="background-color: white;" target="_blank">match.com</a><span style="background-color: white;">. In my frustration and bitterness I signed up to take advantage of the free month trial because I figured, why not? I do not believe it was coincidence that just a few days after I signed up I would begin talking with the man who would later become my husband and love of my life, Barrett. I never ended up paying for this service at all. </span></span><br />
<span style="color: #4c1130; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><br style="background-color: white;" /></span><span style="background-color: white;"><span style="color: #4c1130; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Now, go back to the story with the boys. Good intentions don't always pan out, and it has sadly been quite a few years since I was actively involved with a church. Fast forward to this year, in fact to this very week, when the boys have just completed their first week back at school at the private Christian academy where I used to work, and just this weekend where Barrett and I begin attending church once again. My mom texted me yesterday something that sent chills down my spine. She was looking for her old Bible that hasn't been out in many, many years (we are talking since way before my boys were born) in order to be able to help the boys with their homework when they stay with them. She said she wanted to find it, because she had written down two verses a long time ago that she really enjoyed, and wanted to read them to the boys. It surprised and amazed her when she found her old Bible and looked up those very two verses… one from the book of Matthew and one from the book of Isaiah. These two boys, who I had every intention to raise right and in a strong family, will somehow promote our family becoming stronger because of them. Coincidence? I think not.</span></span><br />
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Sarah Bricehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08918500786806804108noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3728044868420459777.post-48413158720930332212015-10-19T17:13:00.000-07:002015-10-19T17:19:42.062-07:00Death of a PerfectionistHi, my name is Sarah, and I am a perfectionist. I thought that nursing school had pretty much tamed this instinct. Well, a bit. Have I mentioned that I was raised as an only child, got straight A's in pretty much everything, and like things...well, a certain way? Yeah, I am just a bit Type A...<br />
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Today I got back a grade on a paper. 3/5, and I FREAKED. I mean, that is a D-. I <i>don't </i>get D's (except for that one Algebra 2 test-but I digress, Algebra and I did not get along.). I feel like I am a decent writer. I even do it for fun. I wanted to throw a full-blown, screaming, kicking, stomping, and crying fit! But I am mature, so I settled for crying and an (albeit) slightly panicked email to my instructor about my grade, did I read it correctly, and what could I do to improve in the future?<br />
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Ahem...Followed by another email, minutes later, asking if he thought I was going to fail out of the program (This was not my proudest moment). Luckily, he is a great instructor, and though I was full on ticked (though mostly at myself), and bordering on psychotic, he emailed me back within minutes to say; "Your paper was excellent, until you got to the end and did not address what the rubric stated. For that, you lost points. It is just 2 points. This will not kill your grade. You are doing excellent in clinical. There is no way I think you are going to fail out. Breathe.... However, if I ever get a call for a job reference, I will have to mention that there was this one assignment that 2 points were missing on!"<br />
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My story is mortifying to me, mainly that I freaked out so much over a few points, but also because in my wrapped up, stressiness of nursing school, I also hurt myself by not slowing down to just read. It's also funny. I burst out laughing at the last line of the email, basically putting things in perspective for me. I share this to you for three reasons: 1)Nursing school is hard. You will love it, and I promise you will HATE it. There feels like there is never enough time in the day. 2) This is just a season. Less than a year from now I will be done, and I will not care at all about this 5 point project, care plans, or my grades. 3) Breathe. Life is not perfect. I am not perfect. You are not perfect, and nursing school will all but kill the perfectionist unless we learn to laugh it off when falling flat on our faces, brush ourselves off, and try again.Sarah Bricehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08918500786806804108noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3728044868420459777.post-56005049292184747202015-10-12T13:26:00.001-07:002015-10-12T13:26:51.003-07:0030 school days to go! (until Christmas break that is…)I make it through nursing school the same way I did through teaching when I was feeling burnt out. I count the days until I get some <b>real</b> time off. I started the countdown right before school began with how many school days until Christmas break, and I'm actively counting them down. Realistically I probably should have just done all days but that seemed like too big of a number to start with (and hence depressing). There really is no such thing as a day off in nursing school. Days off are spent on reading, care plans, projects, papers, and studying for exams. Yuck. Second year did not begin slowly, but instead with a "here's your 5 papers/projects and 3 clinical rotations, oh and by the way, the exams will now be comprehensive. Any questions?" Okay...slowly retreat...no-one is looking...the door is righthere.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjoQ6JiOA-858Yvbwx28irKsPFaKifHJA8j7HF95PU37bZZb4b7XoBOBW_vhc3kWHAEEZ7bBm3oXT3rGg7jV6BkHCAm5WBlS-lZ3eWmRsv3i3IDNQHMII1-NpH-Twbswg_XFfsX4DIYi9E/s1600/nursing+school+brain.jpe" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjoQ6JiOA-858Yvbwx28irKsPFaKifHJA8j7HF95PU37bZZb4b7XoBOBW_vhc3kWHAEEZ7bBm3oXT3rGg7jV6BkHCAm5WBlS-lZ3eWmRsv3i3IDNQHMII1-NpH-Twbswg_XFfsX4DIYi9E/s1600/nursing+school+brain.jpe" /></a></div>
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I am in week three of year two of nursing school and am so ready to be done! I know that I still have so much more to learn but I can't help but wait until the day where I no longer have homework and I actually have a job where I can clock in and clock out at the end of the day. Before the school year started I thought I had made my mind up. My next plan was to go straight into an RN to MSN program to work on getting a license to be a (FNP) family nurse practitioner. That was, until school started and I felt swamped,and sick of the school, overwhelmed, and did more research about actually being a nurse practitioner!!! While I am sure it can be a great career, I have no desire to spend the next 3 to 4 years (still) in school, trying to gain experience as an RN, and still trying to be a mom to my kiddos. After that time would be spent wolfing down lunch while filling prescriptions and trying to see X amount of patients each day. No thank you. I have already been in school most of my children's lives. Likely I will go on at some point and probably get a masters degree in either nurse education or clinical leadership depending on which direction my career takes me. I have thought both about being a nursing instructor someday and/or a case manager at a hospital or clinic someday. What I really think I need right now though is to finish school and to go jump feet-first into the workplace of nursing and learn what it is I truly like.<br />
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This is one way that nursing school has changed me. I am beginning to value experience more than I value having a plan. I am beginning to value the importance of staying flexible. I really think that I need to experience things in order to know if they are for me or not. At this time I am on the cardiac floor and have yet to decide if I like it, though I have only done one partial day as I write this. Oncology was OK, I surprisingly loved the orthopedic floor because of all of the education involved and the fact that the patients aren't really sick most of the time, I had a bit of a liking problem with the medical floor and truly enjoyed the surgical floor. I mostly loved my experience in the emergency department this past summer. It's hard to decide what I want to do, and I know that the job market will be a big deciding factor in where I end up (at least to begin with). I currently am in the process of setting up a pediatric rotation and I'm also trying to set up a day shadowing on a labor and delivery unit. Currently my interest lies in either Pediatrics, mom/baby nursing, or emergency nursing, and I know that this is a pretty wide range. :-) In my studies these are also the things I have been interested in as well as mental health nursing and clinic nursing, so we will really have to see where my experiences in school take me in the real world.<br />
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At this time, I plug ahead, counting the days until freedom and paid work again! Christmas, come as quickly as you can!<br />
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Sarah Bricehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08918500786806804108noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3728044868420459777.post-47945325156419723732015-09-22T14:24:00.000-07:002015-09-22T14:24:43.722-07:00Today, Choose Joy.<h3>
<span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-size: 12.8px;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Sometimes, there is no other way to put what is going on in your life other than saying, "I am headed through a proverbial crap storm right now." Or insert your appropriate adjective there. And though this storm is in full rage, I have decided to just go with it. At 33, this is a far cry from how I would have handled the situation three years ago or five years ago and especially 10 years ago! But today, I choose joy. </span></span></h3>
<h3>
<span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-size: 12.8px;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span></span><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-size: 12.8px;">I choose to focus on the things in my life that are good, great, and wonderful. I choose to focus on the strength of my marriage and my friendship with my husband, the laughter and the growth of our children, our community full of friends, and our wonderful, supportive family. I am giddy, and cheerful, even to the point of skipping down the hallway, thinking about my future and the plans that I have made, as well as those plans that will make themselves along the way. I feel full of purpose.</span></span></h3>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><br style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-size: 12.8px;" /></span><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-size: 12.8px;">I choose to hold my head high and know that at the end of the day I am an honest and faithful person. I am a strong person. In fact, I am a lot stronger than many who don't know me well would give me credit for. </span></span></h3>
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<span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-size: 12.8px;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span></span><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-size: 12.8px;">I bet you are too. I bet some of my friends reading this have their own storms that are going on right now in their lives. Things that bring us down, that bring anger, hurt, resentment, and doubt. You too, should choose to hold your head high. Believe that what is going on, even if you don't understand it, is going on for a reason and that you will get through this. Not only will you survive, but you will come out even stronger.</span></span></h3>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><br style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-size: 12.8px;" /></span><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-size: 12.8px;">And that, my friends, is my message for today. Choose joy. It took me quite a while to realize that it really is a choice. You can let life happen to you, or <b>you</b> can make life happen.</span></span></h3>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg2KVvEEQ1yNihSNFb67KCh0YbhSm_ANpgXXLfO7UrW4EcQ2N56G667gpUh5C77AlSayXM_aXEmkBqQA1o7-BAXa17xN1FjmoUbVqDoxXpX_gyOnybCk5JjvxK3vYgEscC7fyIBoABixUo/s1600/choose+joy.jpe" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg2KVvEEQ1yNihSNFb67KCh0YbhSm_ANpgXXLfO7UrW4EcQ2N56G667gpUh5C77AlSayXM_aXEmkBqQA1o7-BAXa17xN1FjmoUbVqDoxXpX_gyOnybCk5JjvxK3vYgEscC7fyIBoABixUo/s400/choose+joy.jpe" width="380" /></a></div>
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Sarah Bricehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08918500786806804108noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3728044868420459777.post-61116046570385868822015-09-16T20:06:00.000-07:002015-09-16T20:06:25.288-07:00I have a love/hate relationship with nursing school.<span style="background-color: #ead1dc; color: #4c1130; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">I have a love/hate relationship with nursing school.<br /><br />In less than two weeks I begin my second and final year of nursing school until I can have the coveted RN after my name. I've written it a few times to see what it looks like. Sarah West, RN. I like it, a lot.<br /><br /> I know that I still have a full year to go, and yet, I don't. Really, right now I am over halfway through as I will finish my final clinical hours sometime this coming May 2016 and then I will walk across the stage at graduation in June 2016. When you do the math it is actually less than a year away. </span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjs5ZkD6aRWk-dFP1fG4CmCtGhVTAEJTwSI2Dt1gvKovY_9Hdkd4NQ4bTMwpYXvp2LLUMZCuYU3lVJkewtkEjNvirnfB3Uvkm56MCd6jBprfme9zzEZU5KJkJmAx1OL7Jna0fGGlg2hqps/s1600/I+am+only+one.jpe" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><span style="background-color: #ead1dc; color: #4c1130; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjs5ZkD6aRWk-dFP1fG4CmCtGhVTAEJTwSI2Dt1gvKovY_9Hdkd4NQ4bTMwpYXvp2LLUMZCuYU3lVJkewtkEjNvirnfB3Uvkm56MCd6jBprfme9zzEZU5KJkJmAx1OL7Jna0fGGlg2hqps/s1600/I+am+only+one.jpe" /></span></a><span style="background-color: #ead1dc; color: #4c1130; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">I know that the next year will be a struggle. I know that more will be expected of me when I am at the clinical sites, my care plans will be expected to be more thoughtful and detailed, and up until spring term I will have many more duties as acting president of the Student Nurses Association. At times I will want to quit. At times I will feel completely incompetent. At times I will think that this was the worst career decision I could ever have made! At times I will look around me and think that every single one of my classmates has it way more together than I do.<br /><br />And yet, I know that at other times I will feel like I understand. I will feel like I am prepared. I will feel like I actually know how to provide care for a patient. During these times, I will feel proud as I lean on my new-found skills. During these times I will know that the best career decision I could ever have made was a that to become a nurse. I will keep the experiences I gained this summer in the emergency department close at hand, as memories that I can savor on tough days, replaying the homeless patient that thanked me profusely saying,"thank you for your care today, and for your respect," the scared grandmother that I comforted as her granddaughter struggled for breath after an attempted drug overdose, the alcoholic man that I carefully tucked in as he slept and got re-hydrated... Because THAT is what nursing is about.<br /><br />In many ways I write this as a reminder to myself of this oh so long but also in many ways oh so short journey to become a nurse. In the next year of school I will laugh, I will cry, I will feel frustrated and overwhelmed, I will feel confident and proud, and I will feel a multitude of different emotions as I deal with different patients throughout each day. I will grow in my skills until I am ready to be on my own.I know that it is not something that happens all at once, but more akin to the gradual change we see each year as summer slides quietly into fall. One day it will get easier, and I will think to myself, I am a nurse!</span><br />
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<span style="background-color: #ead1dc; color: #4c1130; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"> I will also have to decide what comes next. In the next nine months of schooling I will have to decide what is next on my journey. I know that I will be applying for jobs, and I will hope to be working at least part-time as an RN in the following year. I am not sure which department and I am not sure which hospital. Of course, a lot of that will have to do with who is hiring! I do not know yet if I will go on for my RN to MSN program so that I can eventually, after I amass some experience, be a nursing instructor or if I will go on right away and apply to a family nurse practitioner program as was my original plan way-back when I began this journey… Or if I will decide to be in the workforce for a few years before I make any other decisions! Only time will tell, but I am excited to find out.</span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg4G4uYLrUXwRrNQ11EkXA1_6jkVGxjzhJ_GYSkqwkDPe3cgbMCJ8GdyDa1NpmWKPwJudBALmpme6E317niQeS-le55Anc6GV2SRFdf-HTRJnO1BzR88Ip-rWLbLIgZPqj1Yiie2ypxpeQ/s1600/immortal.jpe" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="347" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg4G4uYLrUXwRrNQ11EkXA1_6jkVGxjzhJ_GYSkqwkDPe3cgbMCJ8GdyDa1NpmWKPwJudBALmpme6E317niQeS-le55Anc6GV2SRFdf-HTRJnO1BzR88Ip-rWLbLIgZPqj1Yiie2ypxpeQ/s400/immortal.jpe" width="400" /></a></div>
Sarah Bricehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08918500786806804108noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3728044868420459777.post-26893029713323742922015-09-01T15:04:00.000-07:002015-09-01T15:04:21.231-07:00My Final Thoughts on Italy (and Travel) After Coming Home<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiqSr7-hohG8z7EGMMohlrM0AvSKl3fkxs3YmKA33ZlIkaze5ZUw-EzpiqlhyEBoBRQE1_nWZnT4k6KFxdZU4-3lQiUYexNx6qjNXFsIcjXziYPYymETL76gB3rBsXmSQ5hgIdxP0z7sdE/s1600/IMG_5288.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiqSr7-hohG8z7EGMMohlrM0AvSKl3fkxs3YmKA33ZlIkaze5ZUw-EzpiqlhyEBoBRQE1_nWZnT4k6KFxdZU4-3lQiUYexNx6qjNXFsIcjXziYPYymETL76gB3rBsXmSQ5hgIdxP0z7sdE/s200/IMG_5288.JPG" width="150" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Yes, the bathroom had a bidet!</td></tr>
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<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhw2JK89l-7FPPHpZ4pWuw1c7Jytsiy-I_kOAOYHVBraT6NGqva5ZugszpgNp6S5uFaoFPWTO2gHLGxbpZFYBBfon0_vHHO3sv0ngeP9EirLuuykCOW82NzpAl-9rRINzGfn5BgDgI7jxQ/s1600/IMG_5289.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhw2JK89l-7FPPHpZ4pWuw1c7Jytsiy-I_kOAOYHVBraT6NGqva5ZugszpgNp6S5uFaoFPWTO2gHLGxbpZFYBBfon0_vHHO3sv0ngeP9EirLuuykCOW82NzpAl-9rRINzGfn5BgDgI7jxQ/s200/IMG_5289.JPG" width="150" /></a> </td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Ready for our final night out</td></tr>
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I wasn't going to do another post titled Day 8, since all I basically did that entire day (for like 19 hours) is travel home. Once home though, I had a lot of time to reflect on my trip, the good, the bad, the never want to do again parts, and the parts I loved. I also have shared some pictures that I like on here.<br />
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Initially, I was SO glad to be home! I have to say that parts of this
trip felt like a sick game of some weird travel survivor:<br />
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<ul>
<li>Just how uncomfortable will you be
thousands of miles from home with none of your stuff (I mean you didn't
actually need underwear and shampoo did you)? </li>
<li>How many miles can you walk in the
blazing heat each day with blisters from the day before? </li>
<li>How few hours of sleep can you survive on and
still be perky enough for the next walking tour? </li>
<li>How many street vendors selling selfie sticks can you politely say no to before wanting to shove said selfie stick in very impolite places? (Candi, you know you were totally with me on that one!)</li>
<li>Just how long can someone with
overactive bladder hold their bladder for on a tour bus? The answer is over 4 miserable hours with me wanting to threaten to sue the lost bus driver and scream about the risks of UTIs. </li>
<li> How many hours of a
flight can you endure a screaming baby for (why, why is there always one near
me without fail?)? I mean, I like babies for the most part, but not anywhere near me on a plane. Or kids for that matter that kick the seats in front of them. My kids have flown and you'd have thought we were SO strict with our rules for you know, politeness to others in an enclosed space. Not all families honor these same thoughts. </li>
</ul>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj9ekPCKNXx3gW9IQbK4_xn19wsoNy58dK7_BxKTXeAdCnpiW-Jh7rGnfL5_qy3nfCh7mbViKb3zALUExbzAGMJdFKIZKE3rx9vXc1NFwSgj5VaXAvhRLhjJfs7Aa1Obh7_Rpu-sjr6rSg/s1600/IMG_5301.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj9ekPCKNXx3gW9IQbK4_xn19wsoNy58dK7_BxKTXeAdCnpiW-Jh7rGnfL5_qy3nfCh7mbViKb3zALUExbzAGMJdFKIZKE3rx9vXc1NFwSgj5VaXAvhRLhjJfs7Aa1Obh7_Rpu-sjr6rSg/s200/IMG_5301.JPG" width="150" /></a> Quick, let's play a game. The airport shuttle you already booked and paid for is running an hour late and has just notified you (at the time they were scheduled to pick you up!). Do you A) take your chances that you only need an hour to go through customs, check bags, and security while finding your way through a foreign airport? or B) Do you attempt to call another taxi and get to the airport with a driver that speaks NO English? If you chose B, you are correct.</div>
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<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjLhYXIonkzkgDMl9WNCIIOeOtk2qjrYDmp3J8mcepKWmOaTGPYL1gXy_W1A8ClSFvDCzb_8UzjR03KlLbp-WOwJgUYPF_psWgj2K2mm2FtIOZ7wFOiY1n0CnlrYmWSlatPsuW7CJaCRUQ/s1600/P1050083.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="150" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjLhYXIonkzkgDMl9WNCIIOeOtk2qjrYDmp3J8mcepKWmOaTGPYL1gXy_W1A8ClSFvDCzb_8UzjR03KlLbp-WOwJgUYPF_psWgj2K2mm2FtIOZ7wFOiY1n0CnlrYmWSlatPsuW7CJaCRUQ/s200/P1050083.JPG" width="200" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">This waiter insisted on a picture with me!</td></tr>
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<div class="MsoNormal">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg2grWspZw711QCEGsh4pZkfrRMDX9rC4tWR7iLi0fad6LS9u2zk8veh4-pP_XLTxEQG5ESUaESyHVOw8y6BC8dT9rBhchOcbCQEIgKcaU8xwQAfoVQIQ0VkGmu_kQM6yQ3k7JlHVrtgBo/s1600/P1050009.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="150" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg2grWspZw711QCEGsh4pZkfrRMDX9rC4tWR7iLi0fad6LS9u2zk8veh4-pP_XLTxEQG5ESUaESyHVOw8y6BC8dT9rBhchOcbCQEIgKcaU8xwQAfoVQIQ0VkGmu_kQM6yQ3k7JlHVrtgBo/s200/P1050009.JPG" width="200" /></a> Touring is not (in my experience)
made to be comfortable, though there are many things that I would do
differently after this trip. We had SO many hours of touring, and I get it. It
was necessary to see as much as we could see, and my friend Candi did a great job fitting it all in, but in the future I will book
less actual tours and leave more time to savor the city I think, even if that means missing a few things. Maybe I am some "lazy American" as I have heard many Europeans think about our kind. I know that we like excess. Heck, we buy blended coffee or a Coke and get 32 ounces or more, not like 8. Side note, in Italy one can buy a glass of wine for often cheaper than a soda. Sodas are not very popular there (which is OK with me, except I had quite a few Diet Pepsis when I got home to make up for it!). I like air conditioning, I like comfy places to sit when I am tired of walking, and I like signs for public restrooms (so I don't have to scout out the nearest cafe and hope there is one in there). I get that these are small things in the bigger picture of life, and that "when in Rome...", so I am not trying to disrespect the country (I very much enjoyed it and did my best to adapt while there), simply stating my opinions here. </div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhBVTAgcMm3xlNgzTZjxQy0u11D3jyYm5crys-A8Hlar8ZwTloJoKDC0xuwCBvLcWMM4t22Wqu9DR3gNG-s7cKVBSWETvjxNHjCHA5HangYfxbZHuyqo7dxooOWM9z_GOaBlF9OqILTSv0/s1600/P1050061.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhBVTAgcMm3xlNgzTZjxQy0u11D3jyYm5crys-A8Hlar8ZwTloJoKDC0xuwCBvLcWMM4t22Wqu9DR3gNG-s7cKVBSWETvjxNHjCHA5HangYfxbZHuyqo7dxooOWM9z_GOaBlF9OqILTSv0/s200/P1050061.JPG" width="150" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">A priest!</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<div class="MsoNormal">
I say most of these things (mostly) in jest. They are all
true, but they did not make (or in this case break) the trip. I still feel it
was totally worth it to see parts of a country I've been longing to see for at least
the past decade if not longer. I fully intend to go back to <st1:country-region w:st="on">Italy</st1:country-region> with Barrett in the future, to see <st1:city w:st="on">Florence</st1:city> and <st1:city w:st="on">Venice</st1:city>, and
perhaps <st1:city w:st="on">Assisi</st1:city>
again. Unless he desires to go to <st1:place w:st="on">Rome</st1:place>
though, once may have been enough for me. I loved it most of the time, and
didn't at others. I am glad to have the experience of traveling on my own (for
a leg of it), and having to learn how to
advocate for myself. See, if Barrett were there I know I would not have ever
worried about finding a bathroom or food. He knows me and knows to scope out
these things so that he has a happy wife. It is an act of love that I will
never, ever take for granted again. :) (Thank you, Honey!)</div>
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<span style="font-size: 12.8000001907349px;">I</span>t kept things in perspective for me a lot. I couldn't let a
lack of extra clothes keep me from enjoying Rome, and I learned to stash extra
snacks in my purse (but side note here...a GOOD tour if lengthy, <i>should</i> include a break for food, drinks,
and restrooms!!). I mean, who plans these things? </div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj1_GeidDYAvNbXYoeqsvsQgGGJYOyXcIDZ2qeEO2jPfIKjrDN28KI7pMnALm1sGdWGM2QObyMe_ri22o2tz2oDmi9BRQUFoaqR4NPVS28-fUvo5rDkB9_T8iWh1tL2Ecg3GWCk6NsWr1Q/s1600/P1050084.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="150" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj1_GeidDYAvNbXYoeqsvsQgGGJYOyXcIDZ2qeEO2jPfIKjrDN28KI7pMnALm1sGdWGM2QObyMe_ri22o2tz2oDmi9BRQUFoaqR4NPVS28-fUvo5rDkB9_T8iWh1tL2Ecg3GWCk6NsWr1Q/s200/P1050084.JPG" width="200" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Dinner near our hotel</td></tr>
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My first few days back in <st1:state w:st="on">Oregon</st1:state>, I told Barrett I didn't want to
travel again for years. I was exhausted. I was so happy to be on American soil
again where public restrooms abound. I think the adrenaline while traveling
kept me going there, but it took me about an entire week to feel normal again
once home. Now that I have had some time to re-acclimate, my trip has not
quelled my desire to travel (as I am sure my poor hubby hoped!). Instead, I am
actively planning my next trip (with him) to <st1:country-region w:st="on">Germany</st1:country-region> for 2-3 winters away, and perhaps a trip to Maui (duh!) and Canada and/or Alaska in between. If you are thinking, must be nice, or how can you afford this?? I remind you my philosophies about travel. No, I don't do everything cheaply. I will splurge on a nice room or a fancy meal during a trip, but every year we take tax money (refund) to travel as well as set aside monetary gifts we get throughout the year, and save for travel. And yes, sometimes we put something on our friend Visa, and pay her back as soon as possible. But travel is possible if it is a priority. I am already beginning to learn some German. At least, that is where we are thinking of going, with a minimum
of guided tours, and a maximum of time to explore on our own hitting a list of the must-see spots for us (which are more "nature" type spots than typical tourist spots). </div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgHQrbBMTmhXAHrYXHBTX091YlsgmAMFo3t7c_2Kz0IhvcnO_4-mpXa9LWZvoAc2kObXnrD51fEq-6Shp71g9ZN9aUta2n__J33kb6e4JlneuQJQJcdouzADGN6eLpx32q3Ad-XOlvKOmY/s1600/P1050171.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="150" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgHQrbBMTmhXAHrYXHBTX091YlsgmAMFo3t7c_2Kz0IhvcnO_4-mpXa9LWZvoAc2kObXnrD51fEq-6Shp71g9ZN9aUta2n__J33kb6e4JlneuQJQJcdouzADGN6eLpx32q3Ad-XOlvKOmY/s200/P1050171.JPG" width="200" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">A home outside Assisi area</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhLk2j6c-jCIYE4r60i70u_EkPZzDaiHew-jDIYALFQAJuyxqo7dMr_ii3PoVH6d1f_p2B1jzewIJrn1mtngIlmUM7r4Wgn_aG1y2LXyaWpOYialO3TnIIzUkKzjU3eA-VdqfH0lhzUysc/s1600/P1050093.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="150" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhLk2j6c-jCIYE4r60i70u_EkPZzDaiHew-jDIYALFQAJuyxqo7dMr_ii3PoVH6d1f_p2B1jzewIJrn1mtngIlmUM7r4Wgn_aG1y2LXyaWpOYialO3TnIIzUkKzjU3eA-VdqfH0lhzUysc/s200/P1050093.JPG" width="200" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Rome at Night</td></tr>
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There is a magic to traveling. There is no other way to
describe it. Being somewhere foreign and trying to take part in the local
language and food is amazing. Seeing the sights can honestly change you a bit as a person. I have only gotten a taste, and my passport has
room for many more stamps!</div>
Sarah Bricehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08918500786806804108noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3728044868420459777.post-12044213483073325972015-08-31T20:56:00.000-07:002015-08-31T20:56:25.917-07:00Italy Trip Day 7: Underground Rome and Isola Tiberina<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjFTJQdi9sRYGmIGxVKuRZg8PylGXEsW-tZrCjIl3NXOv-W39InNnBKK09B2URmPMxdOO7YH8P92ImqaXKvpycShcYKx1WB8ku3M_e1ZXIH9GYPKEIua-Owxjg6NV0sVJU5A5pgUdm7jtY/s1600/P1050268.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjFTJQdi9sRYGmIGxVKuRZg8PylGXEsW-tZrCjIl3NXOv-W39InNnBKK09B2URmPMxdOO7YH8P92ImqaXKvpycShcYKx1WB8ku3M_e1ZXIH9GYPKEIua-Owxjg6NV0sVJU5A5pgUdm7jtY/s320/P1050268.JPG" width="320" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiNfJb2SVgEdQ_WGGXSVfPpsBc9lfEPdDt7YkzhqR4o3trXFifnQHLKiM7eZw7VqPfWNToD1hWkmi-OTG1qHZWt-k5zKN9s7yKTcFqAXxImXWGIuHxS6kV3hswmmvjG3Y9XREFgT5xk55c/s1600/P1050267.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiNfJb2SVgEdQ_WGGXSVfPpsBc9lfEPdDt7YkzhqR4o3trXFifnQHLKiM7eZw7VqPfWNToD1hWkmi-OTG1qHZWt-k5zKN9s7yKTcFqAXxImXWGIuHxS6kV3hswmmvjG3Y9XREFgT5xk55c/s320/P1050267.JPG" width="240" /></a>On our last full day in Rome, Candi and I had a tour planned in the morning to see the hidden/underground part of Rome. This tour would take us to three churches that were literally built on top of former churches, and in the case of one, on top of a former church that was on top of ancient Roman housing. It was a very interesting tour that unfortunately didn't allow photographs in 2 of the 3 places we visited. You could walk down stairs a level and go back in time to the remains of what was there before. One place even had a stone coffin, and another a pile of bones! Another had paintings from inside what would have been like the kitchen of a Roman home. It was a very neat tour, and I am glad to have seen it.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgHavarYihN0MAu-PkgubCywympedme1uIp1QjTfUB1xv6IPFYFQTxr171OMusCpFIMTvBs40Upw8Lp3cLWqxe2fgd-wbFJq6SxLBxhaWzP-Ke04ZuY6UvuBlXPJJvx2fIvzYAsIj80OF0/s1600/P1050280.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgHavarYihN0MAu-PkgubCywympedme1uIp1QjTfUB1xv6IPFYFQTxr171OMusCpFIMTvBs40Upw8Lp3cLWqxe2fgd-wbFJq6SxLBxhaWzP-Ke04ZuY6UvuBlXPJJvx2fIvzYAsIj80OF0/s320/P1050280.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg4RHzKnQJpZsGv5w1azSNtAjQxiCgtk4jsatQgm9XhPlSyW4ocdPKibihmdPE6wM7zlnZai7rONZsVtN24xEmYpTFRhkrZk-pk81PlTAzdySstII064rA6wrDqJ1XDsmU-15QPu0NV3F4/s1600/P1050281.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg4RHzKnQJpZsGv5w1azSNtAjQxiCgtk4jsatQgm9XhPlSyW4ocdPKibihmdPE6wM7zlnZai7rONZsVtN24xEmYpTFRhkrZk-pk81PlTAzdySstII064rA6wrDqJ1XDsmU-15QPu0NV3F4/s320/P1050281.JPG" width="320" /></a>We had another tour to the Borghese Gallery and Gardens that last afternoon, and we actually skipped it. I am sure it is fabulous, but we had been on walking tours all week (walking miles upon miles a day, no joke), and had not really had any time to just relax. We spent the afternoon instead napping (her) and reading (me), then we went souvenir shopping and had a blast, and then took a cab to Isola Tiberina for dinner. Isola Tiberina is simply translated to Tiber Island, and it is on the Tiber River and is connected by a bridge to the rest of Rome. I had wanted to see it, because it is supposed to be the birthplace of healing and it is said that the Romans had a statue, aesculapius, brought over from Greece. This statue has a man with a staff with a snake curled around it (sound familiar?). The staff with the snake is the caduceus and is the symbol of medicine (winged staff with snake). Though I did further learn that this symbol is actually a symbol of Hermes, the messenger god, and is mistakenly used as the medical symbol when it should actually be the rod or <span style="background-color: white; color: #252525; font-family: sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 22.3999996185303px;"> </span><b style="background-color: white; color: #252525; font-family: sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 22.3999996185303px;">Staff of Asclepius</b><span style="background-color: white; color: #252525; font-family: sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 22.3999996185303px;"> (sometimes also spelled </span><b style="background-color: white; color: #252525; font-family: sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 22.3999996185303px;">Asklepios</b><span style="background-color: white; color: #252525; font-family: sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 22.3999996185303px;"> or </span><b style="background-color: white; color: #252525; font-family: sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 22.3999996185303px;">Aesculapius</b><span style="background-color: white; color: #252525; font-family: sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 22.3999996185303px;">), so really see, this was the original medical symbol. </span><span style="box-sizing: border-box; color: #454545; font-family: 'Open Sans', sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 20px; text-align: justify;"><a href="http://www.greekmythology.com/Other_Gods/Asclepius/asclepius.html" style="box-sizing: border-box; color: #428bca; text-decoration: none; transition: 300ms;" title="Asclepius">Asclepius</a></span><span style="background-color: white; color: #454545; font-family: 'Open Sans', sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 20px; text-align: justify;"> was the ancient Greek god of medicine, son of the god </span><span style="box-sizing: border-box; color: #454545; font-family: 'Open Sans', sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 20px; text-align: justify;"><a href="http://www.greekmythology.com/Olympians/Apollo/apollo.html" style="box-sizing: border-box; color: #2a6496; outline-offset: -2px; outline: none; transition: 300ms;" title="Apollo">Apollo</a></span><span style="background-color: white; color: #454545; font-family: 'Open Sans', sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 20px; text-align: justify;"> </span><span style="background-color: white; color: #454545; font-family: 'Open Sans', sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 20px; text-align: justify;">and Coronis. </span><span style="background-color: white; color: #454545; font-family: 'Open Sans', sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 20px; text-align: justify;">At some point,</span><span style="background-color: white; color: #454545; font-family: 'Open Sans', sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 20px; text-align: justify;"> </span><span style="box-sizing: border-box; color: #454545; font-family: 'Open Sans', sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 20px; text-align: justify;"><a href="http://www.greekmythology.com/Other_Gods/Asclepius/asclepius.html" style="box-sizing: border-box; color: #428bca; text-decoration: none; transition: 300ms;" title="Asclepius">Asclepius</a></span><span style="background-color: white; color: #454545; font-family: 'Open Sans', sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 20px; text-align: justify;"> healed a snake, which in return taught him secret knowledge - snakes were considered divine beings that were wise and could heal. This is how the symbol of</span><span style="background-color: white; color: #454545; font-family: 'Open Sans', sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 20px; text-align: justify;"> </span><span style="box-sizing: border-box; color: #454545; font-family: 'Open Sans', sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 20px; text-align: justify;"><a href="http://www.greekmythology.com/Other_Gods/Asclepius/asclepius.html" style="box-sizing: border-box; color: #428bca; text-decoration: none; transition: 300ms;" title="Asclepius">Asclepius</a></span><span style="background-color: white; color: #454545; font-family: 'Open Sans', sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 20px; text-align: justify;"> and later healing was a rod wreathed with a snake. </span><span style="box-sizing: border-box; color: #454545; font-family: 'Open Sans', sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 20px; text-align: justify;"><a href="http://www.greekmythology.com/Other_Gods/Asclepius/asclepius.html" style="box-sizing: border-box; color: #428bca; text-decoration: none; transition: 300ms;" title="Asclepius">Asclepius</a></span><span style="background-color: white; color: #454545; font-family: 'Open Sans', sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 20px; text-align: justify;"> was so good at healing that he had managed to cheat death and bring people back from</span><span style="background-color: white; color: #454545; font-family: 'Open Sans', sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 20px; text-align: justify;"> </span><span style="box-sizing: border-box; color: #454545; font-family: 'Open Sans', sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 20px; text-align: justify;"><a href="http://www.greekmythology.com/Myths/Places/The_Underworld/the_underworld.html" style="box-sizing: border-box; color: #428bca; text-decoration: none; transition: 300ms;" title="The Underworld">the underworld</a></span><span style="background-color: white; color: #454545; font-family: 'Open Sans', sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 20px; text-align: justify;">. As a result,</span><span style="background-color: white; color: #454545; font-family: 'Open Sans', sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 20px; text-align: justify;"> </span><span style="box-sizing: border-box; color: #454545; font-family: 'Open Sans', sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 20px; text-align: justify;"><a href="http://www.greekmythology.com/Olympians/Zeus/zeus.html" style="box-sizing: border-box; color: #428bca; text-decoration: none; transition: 300ms;" title="Zeus">Zeus</a></span><span style="background-color: white; color: #454545; font-family: 'Open Sans', sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 20px; text-align: justify;"> </span><span style="background-color: white; color: #454545; font-family: 'Open Sans', sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 20px; text-align: justify;">killed him to maintain the balance and placed him on the night sky under the constellation of the Ophiuchus (the snake holder).</span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; color: #252525; font-family: sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 22.3999996185303px;">Stolen from: </span><span style="color: #252525; font-family: sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: 14px; line-height: 22.3999996185303px;">http://www.greekmythology.com/Other_Gods/Asclepius/asclepius.html</span></span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; color: #252525; font-family: sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 22.3999996185303px;">Sorry, I love my Greek mythology. </span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgDSi8-f-DYG0ECTheW0AwLy10Kgwf71sXUyJaHigNOWUjXhxqoygJRTk8PqmXraI3_qoRbE3vtlaozPFjbmxO1X3psHMtkSe6dYd4xXPHUjh7XpPpp_I8io_NI30nB54MqCM2gxC7gry8/s1600/IMG_5321.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgDSi8-f-DYG0ECTheW0AwLy10Kgwf71sXUyJaHigNOWUjXhxqoygJRTk8PqmXraI3_qoRbE3vtlaozPFjbmxO1X3psHMtkSe6dYd4xXPHUjh7XpPpp_I8io_NI30nB54MqCM2gxC7gry8/s320/IMG_5321.JPG" width="240" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiJugHcGxaskO-YWU2x9WypNo0VujvptWS7fSLm0yhc7etuPdW6aEDvorcbBcIRSOIf7GZTpw-uAsysn7j9_c-cT7Zp02DAnZtwAiHMUBk-CbW5TPRkD2V76F1asL0Jaf2b61SeFk-cNWI/s1600/P1050291.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiJugHcGxaskO-YWU2x9WypNo0VujvptWS7fSLm0yhc7etuPdW6aEDvorcbBcIRSOIf7GZTpw-uAsysn7j9_c-cT7Zp02DAnZtwAiHMUBk-CbW5TPRkD2V76F1asL0Jaf2b61SeFk-cNWI/s320/P1050291.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
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<span style="background-color: white; color: #252525; font-family: sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 22.3999996185303px;">Anyhow, the evening was a fine one with a rather interesting seafood dinner (Candi's lasagna had octopus in it!). I never did see the statue. For all I know it is inside the big church as you cross over the bridge or at the hospital there on the island, and I honestly was done exploring. But Isola Tiberina is full of cafes, restaurants and shops on the river with live music and street vendors. It is lovely place to visit, and was one of my favorites. </span>Sarah Bricehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08918500786806804108noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3728044868420459777.post-77054280834378433642015-08-30T12:13:00.003-07:002015-08-30T12:13:44.238-07:00Italy Trip Day 6: Orvieto and Assisi (My FAVORITE day!!)<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhXdB-IvGv6zbm6EE-k3v_SIA51SE90DvFH9anlQw3a0J0eDzjXd-IHzQuI7VcvhtlA4TaPAjpurneeDXk-bZZh2WJLM3etrA74Ssfm7Slvf29y1z-axrrK8a9U7RrIW3s8tEY1yz-0BK4/s1600/IMG_5241.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhXdB-IvGv6zbm6EE-k3v_SIA51SE90DvFH9anlQw3a0J0eDzjXd-IHzQuI7VcvhtlA4TaPAjpurneeDXk-bZZh2WJLM3etrA74Ssfm7Slvf29y1z-axrrK8a9U7RrIW3s8tEY1yz-0BK4/s320/IMG_5241.JPG" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Duomo Orvieto</td></tr>
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WARNING: Lots of pictures in this post!<br />
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This day began bright and early as we boarded a small bus that took us to our larger bus for the day at 7:00 AM. We would be leaving the city of Rome for the day to see two cities and of course a handful of churches in the Umbria region of Italy. The bus was cushy and air-conditioned, and honestly, I slept (thankfully) most of the way to our first stop in Orvieto. Orvieto was a cute little town in which we got an hour of free time. Candi and I (or I should say mostly I had some creature comforts to take care of like finding a restroom and ordering a coffee), then we set off to explore Duomo Orvieto, a beautiful striped cathedral and a walled garden looking down on the wine country below. Then we boarded the bus again for about an hour to head outside Assisi where we would have lunch at gorgeous resort with bungalows overlooking the valley (I could totally see staying there!). Lunch consisted of 3 different types of bruschetta with red wine, penne pasta with fresh tomatoes, a beef and potato dish, and then a colorful Neapolitan like cake dessert (no idea what it was called, but similar texture to tiramisu, just different flavors).<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgcLsDtUbq5Ta4GZJirSm6AKr8lWBlrBsVKpN33Gx-ImoGrdv1YF0VO16GStPY75RONwMr_TExa3AbWacmZlDYT59KmGAZCZlmGyKRsfadIZPYShW_KpFrlyv7_M-fqe5zpDrBo5VbgPGA/s1600/IMG_5246.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgcLsDtUbq5Ta4GZJirSm6AKr8lWBlrBsVKpN33Gx-ImoGrdv1YF0VO16GStPY75RONwMr_TExa3AbWacmZlDYT59KmGAZCZlmGyKRsfadIZPYShW_KpFrlyv7_M-fqe5zpDrBo5VbgPGA/s320/IMG_5246.JPG" width="240" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh98Wv3ArnjWeG-Gv2jFmWMWfSaIHU8LD7_akaLkQKimvs6XmhZM6oM1YmdOB0_e690MPhFIguAk_Y06wbUSKmFyWpUg-uVfE25ZzrL-CSqAOiLUnxhEWWbPhRNJ9UAlCEL_M77r3prVRo/s1600/IMG_5243.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh98Wv3ArnjWeG-Gv2jFmWMWfSaIHU8LD7_akaLkQKimvs6XmhZM6oM1YmdOB0_e690MPhFIguAk_Y06wbUSKmFyWpUg-uVfE25ZzrL-CSqAOiLUnxhEWWbPhRNJ9UAlCEL_M77r3prVRo/s320/IMG_5243.JPG" width="240" /></a>From there we drove past large brick or stone country homes. I loved to see them out the window, as I saw no houses in Rome, just apartments. We drove past Lake Trasimeno (wish we had stopped there!) and to the Basilica of Santa Maria degli Angeli at the foot of the hills in Assisi. The churches here are made of pink and white limestone. It was also the first "pay to use" bathroom I had encountered, but for .50 Euros (basically 50 cents), I got a clean bathroom <i>with </i>toilet paper. I could write an entire post about the restroom system in Italy (or lack thereof) and how toilets often have no seat, bathrooms lack toilet paper, and how you have to get very used to the idea of just entering cafes and restaurants and politely asking (In Italian usually) "Dove il bagno, per favore?" That phrase got a lot of use for me! But I digress...<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhl0XOynqNgo0JC1dTKNaigDzji-F3NBWTAOIf8INaI57vY8F36aS8Y_njPblScTQ9zam4hv6H1bd9TyqxypIQffRzF0G4vEa5nl5GItLfpJ4IaxLcX_CMEEVusPcuq8z2wKjftXmRGuuw/s1600/IMG_5259.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhl0XOynqNgo0JC1dTKNaigDzji-F3NBWTAOIf8INaI57vY8F36aS8Y_njPblScTQ9zam4hv6H1bd9TyqxypIQffRzF0G4vEa5nl5GItLfpJ4IaxLcX_CMEEVusPcuq8z2wKjftXmRGuuw/s320/IMG_5259.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Lake Trasimeno</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Assisi</td></tr>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgCerwhZSsPo2ey3X5oMPTE6TuBoJmINrAb-e0jd77u0CRndntCB1bKrYGsbTzSJG6kTc-2u1thuLJRRk2ZZIom88PblyN_WZXm4hIKo2ReyrNqz8Um3Z3HVyiq0EFArjHi20oJATtNIYQ/s1600/P1050229.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgCerwhZSsPo2ey3X5oMPTE6TuBoJmINrAb-e0jd77u0CRndntCB1bKrYGsbTzSJG6kTc-2u1thuLJRRk2ZZIom88PblyN_WZXm4hIKo2ReyrNqz8Um3Z3HVyiq0EFArjHi20oJATtNIYQ/s320/P1050229.JPG" width="320" /></a>We made our way to the city of Assisi which is perched on the hilltop. Then we walked through the winding streets to see various churches (many not allowing photos), shops, and sights. We saw the Church of Saint Clare and Basilica of Francesco d'Assisi. It was interesting to learn that Assisi's tourism has increased dramatically since Pope Francis took his seat (since he took the namesake). I LOVED this town. I can't even begin to explain it, so bear with me. Sisters, Oregon is one of my favorite little towns. It has a very nice downtown full of all kinds of shops and places to eat, and the scenery is gorgeous. This is my only comparison. Assisi sits on a hill and is full of winding cobblestone streets, clothing shops, cafes, meat and cheese shops, churches, and views. There are nuns and monks that actually live at the churches there, and you can see them walking around. It was quaint and grand all at once. This girl was also longing to be away from the bustle of the huge city of Rome, so this trip was perfect timing. I would go again here in a heartbeat and spend WAY more time without the tour guide (we ditched her about midway through to look around ourselves...it's okay, we knew the meeting spot and time). I also had to say that I loved that there were dogs everywhere. St. Francis is the patron saint of animals, so you have a very pet friendly city that Italian visitors walked dogs of all sizes, shapes, and colors through.<br />
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That night on the way back our bus driver and tour guide got lost dropping us at hotels. We were on the bus just under 4 hours before I had had enough (why are there no bathrooms on "nice" buses in this country???). Candi and I jumped off at someone else's stop across town from our hotel and hailed a cab. For this, and the fact that our guide was pretty awful, if I bother to rate the tour, it will do poorly...however, please note that Orvieto and Assisi especially stand alone. If you are ever there, make your own way to them via train or car, and take them all in without time limits. That's my advice.Sarah Bricehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08918500786806804108noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3728044868420459777.post-20658714877155969512015-08-28T21:03:00.000-07:002015-08-28T21:03:10.959-07:00Italy Trip Day 5: Roman Forum, Palatine Hill, and Colosseum<div class="MsoNormal">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEglBZiBjXy19hG1yuqFLZTWwscXvRqvdng9lS84W6lTi5HN6rKLVoWacpCWdF-igt9EN3pGXyjCaV3s2Z-1fM7T6nBJGhByx8RVImGeysfJvS3sQ_DtroL9MEfgLBPPcs-FQNKwvUXm_Pk/s1600/IMG_5114.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEglBZiBjXy19hG1yuqFLZTWwscXvRqvdng9lS84W6lTi5HN6rKLVoWacpCWdF-igt9EN3pGXyjCaV3s2Z-1fM7T6nBJGhByx8RVImGeysfJvS3sQ_DtroL9MEfgLBPPcs-FQNKwvUXm_Pk/s400/IMG_5114.JPG" width="300" /></a>We enjoyed a delicious meal with wine last night after
touring <st1:state w:st="on">Vatican City</st1:state>.
I was all set to relax and maybe catch up on a bit of sleep, but apparently my
body had other plans. Have I mentioned that I am a painfully light sleeper?
Like snoring, moving, lights, any noise from other floors, heck even <i>breathing too loud</i> wakes me up and then
I have trouble falling back asleep? Yep. At home we sleep with not one, but two
box fans on in our room and half the time Barrett or I ends up on the couch
upstairs. I've tried earplugs, Melatonin, sleeping with music, etc, etc, etc.
So, I knew sleeping might be an issue on this trip as it usually is when I
travel, but here I was saving money by rooming with Candi...</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiskH-SjP8l7TWG3WJItRUJxg3SZBZrQ3ib7J5e7Qzy70jSjA8ry0iLtWgtJpeTGGPZsgTTB4Sr_e33VQJb40JsHdJ-9MhXzPvkPTHSXV67aGAwpzX9vsCEcqUllfymsz4KvDqd5IL8RXQ/s1600/IMG_5123.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiskH-SjP8l7TWG3WJItRUJxg3SZBZrQ3ib7J5e7Qzy70jSjA8ry0iLtWgtJpeTGGPZsgTTB4Sr_e33VQJb40JsHdJ-9MhXzPvkPTHSXV67aGAwpzX9vsCEcqUllfymsz4KvDqd5IL8RXQ/s400/IMG_5123.JPG" width="400" /></a>Halfway through the second night I scrawled out a note to
Candi and grabbed just the bare essentials (I still didn't have my luggage!)
and trudged down to the front desk. The night-time clerk at the hotel happened
to be the kindest and most helpful clerk there, and he was able to get me my
own room for the remainder of that night at half price and then a different,
smaller room, for the rest of the stay on the same floor as Candi. I was so
thankful, and though I felt pretty dumb
to have to get my own room, sleep is pretty essential. So, 4 hours of sleep
later (this was becoming my nightly average), and a quick cafe latte, I was
ready for an all day tour. </div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjBlVpcti8_IGBXdAr90vvTUUY-zhsMv5njETPhAUSXnjuKbjP5Qs7EekxFEPK16l6McYC7Zx9l2t4rCEf7pULQl29lFNX3lf6RutuZoPmrz0-uAOtvD-yGJOSKFrcD3-NxiwawvMJZRxo/s1600/IMG_5199.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjBlVpcti8_IGBXdAr90vvTUUY-zhsMv5njETPhAUSXnjuKbjP5Qs7EekxFEPK16l6McYC7Zx9l2t4rCEf7pULQl29lFNX3lf6RutuZoPmrz0-uAOtvD-yGJOSKFrcD3-NxiwawvMJZRxo/s320/IMG_5199.JPG" width="320" /></a>I have to say that, for the most part, this tour was very
enjoyable. The ruins at the Roman Forum of various temple, sculptures and
arenas were amazing to see. Palatine Hill topped that with the sweeping views.
I personally loved Palatine Hill for all the greenery. The pines and gardens
were quite literally a breath of fresh air as well as offered much- needed
shade. <st1:city w:st="on">Rome</st1:city> in
August is hot...each day was between 82-88 degrees for a high, and the humidity
made it very sticky. We breaked for lunch in a cute little neighborhood that our guide recommended and had slices of "real" pizza. It was delicious. We sat and ate right next to the ruins of the training camp for gladiators that connects to the Colosseum via an underground passage. </div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiR5uBew6i4dArSeGO-IsYh2ctg2o0gWe5g-LTOqoOYKxQRW5dMt2Py6FO1Aa0WDwaYfm1lhxu4B6Ac_MD8I5yxN2bOaURIE-HKYO2D4GBtAPM1t24v03B49iubsdH_6as0-nsQgFS5_FE/s1600/IMG_5189.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiR5uBew6i4dArSeGO-IsYh2ctg2o0gWe5g-LTOqoOYKxQRW5dMt2Py6FO1Aa0WDwaYfm1lhxu4B6Ac_MD8I5yxN2bOaURIE-HKYO2D4GBtAPM1t24v03B49iubsdH_6as0-nsQgFS5_FE/s320/IMG_5189.JPG" width="240" /></a>The Colosseum itself was amazing. It had been a downpour when we awoke that morning, and we had been told first thing that the underground part of the Colosseum tour would be closed due to dangerous conditions (it floods rather easily). Luckily, not even 20 minutes into the tour the sun came out, and since the Colosseum was our last stop in the afternoon we did end up getting to go underground. I am so glad too. To see where the gladiators and the animals were kept, as well as the rudimentary elevators they used, and to gaze at the stage in the arena above, you could get a feel for the whole thing. The wooden stage has been partially rebuilt just to show how it once was. We were told that gladiators waiting to fight could see blood seep through the floor above and hear everything that was going on. Many gladiators took their own life rather than chance losing it in an even more brutal fashion. Interesting fact we learned though, is that contrary to popular belief, often the fights were stopped before a death occurred. You see, the gladiators were prize fighters that were gambled on by wealthy emperors, and if there was a good fighter, he was worth a lot of money. The battle would be stopped before a fatality happened, and these fighters would fight just a few times a year for a few years before being released. A popular job for them was to train the next line of gladiators. Then we went out onto the stage to experience the feeling a gladiator would have of looking up into the stands. Finally, we went to the top of the Colosseum for amazing views of the entire arena. </div>
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After a few hours of dinner and rest we left again for a night-time tour called Ghosts and Mysteries. It was to show us creepy places in Rome and hear the legends that went with them.</div>
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Honestly, it was our least favorite tour. Some of the sites were interesting enough, but the guide was not that great. It turned that day into a very long one with a very early morning the next day as we had a tour to Assisi and Orvieto planned.</div>
Sarah Bricehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08918500786806804108noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3728044868420459777.post-70528328076752399712015-08-28T18:42:00.000-07:002015-08-28T18:42:16.692-07:00Italy Trip Day 4: Angels and Demons Tour and Vatican City<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgvmZL1b5SaSF-gKTasFcA4x-mbj4l1lvkBsB2lLSbHwT6CMr_encH8OTeJbAWr89a-Tf1e4Vtk2YfxsBZf0yLsz_t2-T6a6QkQ5WZTJ-0AiYy63r5bBvLtlqkZeJ1ZD8afSEo3XGMbXVM/s1600/IMG_5036.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgvmZL1b5SaSF-gKTasFcA4x-mbj4l1lvkBsB2lLSbHwT6CMr_encH8OTeJbAWr89a-Tf1e4Vtk2YfxsBZf0yLsz_t2-T6a6QkQ5WZTJ-0AiYy63r5bBvLtlqkZeJ1ZD8afSEo3XGMbXVM/s320/IMG_5036.JPG" width="240" /></a>Wearing my new Italian linen pants and sleeveless top (since my luggage is still MIA), I set out for my first full day in Rome. It had been an awful first night. I spent half of it attempting to sleep on a towel on the floor of the bathroom. Migraine combined with the fact that I am an insanely light sleeper...yeah. We breakfasted at the hotel, which had a nice selection of pastries, breads, fruit, cereal, meats and cheeses, as well as scrambled eggs (for us Americans! Italians do not eat eggs at breakfast I have read). I ordered my first coffee in Italy quite by mistake walking by the coffee counter. "Americano?" the gal asks. "Umm...yes!" I reply. A few minutes later out comes a cup of steaming hot black coffee. Yech. I like my coffee about half cream and sugar, half actual coffee. Candi looks at me, "Order it wrong?" Me: "Pretty sure I did. I wasn't sure if she was asking about coffee or my nationality!" It was coffee. No amount of sugar could rescue that first cup. Thank God for adrenaline when there's only been about 4 hours of sleep! The next few days I would order a cafe latte or cappuccino and be good to go.<br />
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I was not to be deterred though. The day would begin with a tour titled Angels and Demons where we would visit all the churches on the path of enlightenment (as well as where 4 cardinals were murdered) in Dan Brown's novel. Places visited include:<br />
<ul>
<li>St Maria del Popolo Church</li>
<li>St Peter's Square</li>
<li>St Maria della Vittoria Church and Ecstasy of St. Teresa Sculpture by Bernini</li>
<li>Piazza Navona</li>
<li>Castel Sant'Angelo</li>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">St. Peter's Square</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The Ecstasy of St. Teresa</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Inside Vatican Museum</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">In the courtyards at the Vatican Museums</td></tr>
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That tour was amazing! I have been home now for a week as I write, and I still think it was one of the best that we went on! The tour guide, Massimo, was a fantastic story-teller, and he re-told the story as we traveled to each site, being sure to point out fact and places where the author had taken poetic license (like the fact that Galileo could not actually have been an Illuminati because they were not around until after his death). It also helped that Massimo was pretty nice to look at.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Close-up of the face of St. Teresa</td></tr>
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And the fact that he told us all about the controversy surrounding the sculpture by Gian Lorenzo Bernini called The Ecstasy of St. Teresa! The controversy is that the sculpture is to depict St. Teresa's night-time visions of angels visiting her and alighting her with passion...the description in her book is quite sensual, and the statue is as well (including the fact that there are other sculptures on either side portraying people "viewing" her ecstasy), hence the Catholic church not knowing where they should even place this work of art.<br />
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Excerpt from My Life by Teresa of Avila:<br />
<span style="background-color: white; color: #252525; font-family: sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 22.3999996185303px;">I saw in his hand a long spear of gold, and at the iron's point there seemed to be a little fire. He appeared to me to be thrusting it at times into my heart, and to pierce my very entrails; when he drew it out, he seemed to draw them out also, and to leave me all on fire with a great love of God. The pain was so great, that it made me moan; and yet so surpassing was the sweetness of this excessive pain, that I could not wish to be rid of it.</span><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiDDu1NTOSnxnxYl0lptiKTHlVYNMHxV2KiyOmVy2RZYyoyEUJ0QggdAnmbTJ5Mov5-oXIbv1IyK9ovbK1PBbBc7kYOXi3diOMs8vdCxq4yse9L39qWk8kfa_1809khCVyUuw6IJxhM9P8/s1600/sistine+chapel.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiDDu1NTOSnxnxYl0lptiKTHlVYNMHxV2KiyOmVy2RZYyoyEUJ0QggdAnmbTJ5Mov5-oXIbv1IyK9ovbK1PBbBc7kYOXi3diOMs8vdCxq4yse9L39qWk8kfa_1809khCVyUuw6IJxhM9P8/s1600/sistine+chapel.jpeg" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Picture from the Internet of God touching Adam</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEitx9mFiLWl1v51s04sh6Zikj-MZzN68Tnj-9BNdlM9D40FtxxIHnYu8OO-7EvK29eOmuoV1pc07l_-mH8rCcrGhQq4DxLGHfYHSsPgzqMSZ1JuDlqhiia08Ew1wtRSHOHvpj0AD9IbpkA/s1600/IMG_5088.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEitx9mFiLWl1v51s04sh6Zikj-MZzN68Tnj-9BNdlM9D40FtxxIHnYu8OO-7EvK29eOmuoV1pc07l_-mH8rCcrGhQq4DxLGHfYHSsPgzqMSZ1JuDlqhiia08Ew1wtRSHOHvpj0AD9IbpkA/s320/IMG_5088.JPG" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">St. Peter's Basilica</td></tr>
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That afternoon we had another big tour to Vatican City which would include the Vatican Museums and Sistine Chapel, as well as St. Peter's Basilica. There are really no words that can do proper justice to the place. The Sistine Chapel does not allow photography (I was a bit late catching up to the group after a restroom break, and I got this yelled at me by one of the guards!), but the ceiling is breathtaking. I marveled at the section of painting depicting God touching Adam and giving him life. St. Peter's Basilica though, was the icing on the cake. I am not Catholic myself, though this trip has almost convinced me otherwise. When we entered the basilica, there was a mass going on in the inner most part. It was being held in Latin, and the sheer sound of the ancient language while being amidst the opulence of the basilica was enough to give me goosebumps.Sarah Bricehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08918500786806804108noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3728044868420459777.post-57713914530296300272015-08-24T20:33:00.001-07:002015-08-24T20:35:45.410-07:00Italy Trip Day 3: finally here!So the third day I was gone ended up being the first actual day in Rome. Our flight came in about 11:30 in the morning, and our plan was to push on through and spend the day exploring so that we could go to bed exhausted that night and acclimate to the new time zone. But wait... Had there been enough travel issues yet?? Apparently not. As we waited at baggage claim and watched the carousel go around and around, Candi got her luggage. Mine? It was a no show. We had been assured by United that when our flight was rescheduled the luggage would go right onto that new flight. So, here I am in a foreign country with no luggage. I went to the customer service counter and was asked to return "in 10 minutes" not once, not twice, but four times! I was told by the not so nice Italian workers that I had to wait long enough to make sure my bag truly wasn't there. When I saw workers come to collect a handful of unclaimed bags, and mine still was MIA, I went to the counter again. I told the man "please do not tell me to come back again in ten more minutes!!" Turns out my bag was left in Chicago. Wonderful.<div><br></div><div>We took a cab to our hotel, and Candi was amazed with the scary driving. I had experienced similar in Mexico before and only need to add that apparently speed limits and lanes are merely suggestions, and the horn, not the turn signal, is used for letting other drivers know you are coming into their lane. </div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjNhn9QyiMd97ZOTUKioYiBiP-UaAmC1QG2Ri_vL56X46M74NP62wIt2_sY3PifCRqUezCjtWG2CSjekv93Z0MOfx4_S8gmraLTUsRkAZVmVXreavQboyES-XtIrXEkREPgL8atUQEBgmc/s640/blogger-image--1729769911.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjNhn9QyiMd97ZOTUKioYiBiP-UaAmC1QG2Ri_vL56X46M74NP62wIt2_sY3PifCRqUezCjtWG2CSjekv93Z0MOfx4_S8gmraLTUsRkAZVmVXreavQboyES-XtIrXEkREPgL8atUQEBgmc/s640/blogger-image--1729769911.jpg"></a></div><br></div><div>Our hotel was very cute and clean and we attempted to settle in. For me this involved washing my undies in the sink so that I had a clean pair for the next day. Seriously. But ah, Rome. One can't let a lack of panties ruin the day! </div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg2a0FAgsiHxXIQC5r86rPv66vbHGURxuJeVRSg1TpXBzzOTGLwv5pfln4gnncuNyonFujCAobpU5ueouk-CzT_rHFg2o2ZnzkVp7EeUhx1Iwz3yy5YUJdpBt5IIY5cJm0oOTaEQn7tbug/s640/blogger-image--1404916727.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg2a0FAgsiHxXIQC5r86rPv66vbHGURxuJeVRSg1TpXBzzOTGLwv5pfln4gnncuNyonFujCAobpU5ueouk-CzT_rHFg2o2ZnzkVp7EeUhx1Iwz3yy5YUJdpBt5IIY5cJm0oOTaEQn7tbug/s640/blogger-image--1404916727.jpg"></a></div><br></div><div>We went on a walking tour that evening and marveled at the Spanish Steps, which are 135 steps that our tour guide insisted we walk part of twice... You know, because once wasn't enough. We saw Trevi Fountain, that sadly is being renovated so was empty but still beautiful. We saw our first couple of piazzas and ate our first gelato and then went shopping for a new outfit for me so that I'd have some clean clothes. Good thing too- since my luggage (that was supposed to arrive the very next day) would not arrive until Wednesday AM. <div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEilVu51LIdtbLARQ-qGclIxoaOBCLD_Qyf3i_R3ZQAochi1E02yV-U4J5ak7sqj2znnmxBP9TwzWtVJ1CWfVnsWDEYpwegup_MEG5XwClc9JrC6t004yKBqfJVj3sqS2te5_koDueRPglM/s640/blogger-image-1027315463.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEilVu51LIdtbLARQ-qGclIxoaOBCLD_Qyf3i_R3ZQAochi1E02yV-U4J5ak7sqj2znnmxBP9TwzWtVJ1CWfVnsWDEYpwegup_MEG5XwClc9JrC6t004yKBqfJVj3sqS2te5_koDueRPglM/s640/blogger-image-1027315463.jpg"></a></div></div>Sarah Bricehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08918500786806804108noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3728044868420459777.post-30692261862962329622015-08-22T00:40:00.001-07:002015-08-22T00:40:42.052-07:00Italy Trip Day 2: Are We There Yet??<div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiu23gJh1cFsYjo2i9ew9BqFqoOhRA8VQoUwakQy9Dky12yBHqgHCqyxguFJxdNaiZG-E8lSZ7VllDP3d8qrff4-48iouipzbqtmCmEB4xJqQPmlf9l0U6hiwa2ANwiMhWPl8F8AdycZ-k/s640/blogger-image-1017662155.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiu23gJh1cFsYjo2i9ew9BqFqoOhRA8VQoUwakQy9Dky12yBHqgHCqyxguFJxdNaiZG-E8lSZ7VllDP3d8qrff4-48iouipzbqtmCmEB4xJqQPmlf9l0U6hiwa2ANwiMhWPl8F8AdycZ-k/s640/blogger-image-1017662155.jpg"></a></div>This was supposed to be our first day exploring Rome. Candi had a tour booked to go see Pompeii and the Amalfi coast. It was going to be the one day that we each did separate things because I couldn't get on that tour. I was actually OK with that because I had found a couple of cool tours right in the city to do. I had toyed with the idea of taking a train to Venice because it is a must see for me, but the idea of doing it alone and how much travel would be involved (and the fact that my parents would have wanted to kill me!) with it had thwarted that idea. Instead, I had booked a tour that went over into Isola Tiberina to see an island that is attached by a bridge to Rome. And then that evening I had booked a walking tour around the city to see the sights.<div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgRoa6Es5vqJHPToS6CHihTrVcWcwElyjsVrZWcuBuxnDgaoNODH7_mgsTckInPNLBIWN8fuTO-unJmqRs3zLBaU7L_Ev38dJc9KPa-oeqcKYIwlvhto4BxdXmnko_1ygP6qX6ofKY1WxA/s640/blogger-image-714538549.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgRoa6Es5vqJHPToS6CHihTrVcWcwElyjsVrZWcuBuxnDgaoNODH7_mgsTckInPNLBIWN8fuTO-unJmqRs3zLBaU7L_Ev38dJc9KPa-oeqcKYIwlvhto4BxdXmnko_1ygP6qX6ofKY1WxA/s640/blogger-image-714538549.jpg"></a></div><br></div><div>Instead we spent a lazy morning in Chicago. All I could think the whole time was of that line in the cartoon movie Monsters Vs. Aliens: "Fresno? In what world is Fresno like Paris??" In what world is Chicago a fair replacement for Rome?? Well, it isn't. We tried to make the best of it and went and grabbed Candi's old favorite, White Castle for lunch and then walked around a little bit at a local nearby park and river.</div><div><br></div><div>We got to the airport with plenty of time and got checked into our flight. We even were the first ones in line to board the flight to Rome. We were just a little bit antsy to finally get to the city! We stood in line for about 90 minutes as one delay turned into two more as they "cleaned the plane." I finally say to Candi "what the hell is on the plane?? A dead body? I'm pretty sure I still want on it at this point!"</div><div><br></div><div>Finally we boarded!!! The flight had some open room so we had a row of three for just us two. I was still pretty jealous of the first class "sleeping pods"- have you seen those?? There was onboard entertainment and I settled in to watch Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows Part 1. We were served a three course meal on this flight that consisted of a small appetizer of crackers and cheese, an actual meal of pasta and salad with bread, and then gelato for dessert. It was pretty decent for airplane food.</div><div><br></div><div>I was even able to catch about four hours of sleep. The next morning we would finally arrive.<div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgZf4XGvZJ1Am422wBj8k73ZLIyTeawZx_ZkNZuufGVDHr1f7TcAQ-63VrfR-XdhhXNVqXrUJZOpT52vOQe5qb4-mSKxFp4mfZ6JBJjZBGzJRpqnb3eMUCA8yyE8NGGq3_VCRsxE0EFXyM/s640/blogger-image--1391881957.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgZf4XGvZJ1Am422wBj8k73ZLIyTeawZx_ZkNZuufGVDHr1f7TcAQ-63VrfR-XdhhXNVqXrUJZOpT52vOQe5qb4-mSKxFp4mfZ6JBJjZBGzJRpqnb3eMUCA8yyE8NGGq3_VCRsxE0EFXyM/s640/blogger-image--1391881957.jpg"></a></div></div>Sarah Bricehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08918500786806804108noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3728044868420459777.post-37162137883721427892015-08-22T00:19:00.001-07:002015-08-22T00:19:55.397-07:00Italy Trip Day 1Decided to do a post for each day of the trip here as well as link to Candi's blog (she did an amazing job matching up all her pictures to the descriptions). <div><br></div><div>My trip began 1 week ago early on a Saturday morning as I met Candi and her sister, Jacqueline to go to the Portland airport. We got all checked in and had a fairly uneventful flight at first. Then right around the time we were supposed to land, the captain came on the radio. "I have some bad news," he says, "look out your windows. Obviously I cannot land in this." We look out our window to see (gasp!) rain clouds, and say to ourselves "really? What's the big deal here?" Obviously, when you come from Oregon you wonder why this would slow anything down. The captain goes on to explain that there is thunder and lightning, and our flight (and many others) are being diverted to Milwaukee. </div><div><br></div><div>This stressed us quite a bit since we were only going to have 1 1/2 hours in Chicago before the flight to Rome left. Sure enough, our 3 hour and 45 minute flight transformed into a 6 hour flight as we sat on the Tarmac in Wisconsin and eventually got refueled and back in the air to Chicago. Once landed, Candi and I did a mad dash through the large airport. Our flight to Italy had also been delayed twice and perhaps we could make it??</div><div>Nope. We arrived at the gate ten minutes after the flight took off. Then we spent the next hour trying to finagle our way onto any flight in Europe that could get us connection to Italy. That could've even been cool to get stuck in Munich or Frankfurt (2 we were looking at) even if it was overnight we'd get the bonus of another country. Instead? No flights had room. No flights left Chicago until six the next night. Because we were ten minutes late- we had just lost an entire day in Rome. Luckily, Candi has family in the Chicago area, who came and got us and let us stay until we could try again.</div><div><br></div><div>On a side note, there were no thunderstorms in Chicago that night, at least none that anyone we knew in area knew about. There was however an air traffic control tower down ( maybe due to weather???). Why we weren't told this, I'm not sure -but my guess is that it is because of the fact that United only offers hotel vouchers for delays/missed flights that are not weather related...<br><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh463fU13fvOOopjtUDgZxV59Wmtx1NxhCaPZ8r5Tm_HBiOaVS5Gc-vkGAbcQufdkOS7cLGw89YZRiuw3oArDO7PI8o9DFCHCl0nRa2i9DUGQorziMn9xpOVKNuwHFEXNusy0niPlDbpZ8/s640/blogger-image--1978920150.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh463fU13fvOOopjtUDgZxV59Wmtx1NxhCaPZ8r5Tm_HBiOaVS5Gc-vkGAbcQufdkOS7cLGw89YZRiuw3oArDO7PI8o9DFCHCl0nRa2i9DUGQorziMn9xpOVKNuwHFEXNusy0niPlDbpZ8/s640/blogger-image--1978920150.jpg"></a></div></div>Sarah Bricehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08918500786806804108noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3728044868420459777.post-9008572215118677002015-08-05T20:47:00.000-07:002015-08-05T20:47:46.524-07:00It's Just a Car...Or Is It? Learning to Embrace Me<div class="MsoNormal">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg9i9I33_Z2ce3cu6JQiJH3YmjMEuxWFCifiFDV8MX90nHB8YHGB8gRYiWuKNPsXR1sC_Xgfy-R1tE_OlecDczq3eiQu60smGSBgT1KOvw9iuS5LOym6zsvvEjbvwGQcBobmSXyELXadKg/s1600/who+you+are.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg9i9I33_Z2ce3cu6JQiJH3YmjMEuxWFCifiFDV8MX90nHB8YHGB8gRYiWuKNPsXR1sC_Xgfy-R1tE_OlecDczq3eiQu60smGSBgT1KOvw9iuS5LOym6zsvvEjbvwGQcBobmSXyELXadKg/s200/who+you+are.jpeg" width="128" /></a><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">About a week ago Barrett and I sat and talked about our
goals and some financial decisions we should make when his new job begins, and
then later when my new career begins. It was a good check-in, and I am thankful
to be in a relationship where this happens when it needs to. We talked about
vehicles, and possibly selling my Charger and getting him a newer truck until I
was done with nursing school. I sat and listened, knowing that the Jetta we
have is newer, potentially more reliable, and costs about half as much to keep
fueled as <i>my</i> car. I reminisced over
the fact that I had barely even driven my car the past year because it wasn't
the smartest option. As we talked, and I tried to keep calm, tears began
rolling down my face at the thought of selling my orange beauty. <i>Get a grip, Sarah </i>I thought, <i>it's just a car, and you can get something
new later on. </i>But is it just a car? Sometimes what should be just an object
has sentimental attachment to us for other reasons. My car does, and I don't want a new one. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">One of the hardest lessons I have learned in the last year or
so is that sometimes niceness gets you nowhere. I even cringe typing that. I
was taught to be nice, to be amicable; I hate making a scene. Deep down I do want everyone to like me. It is no big
secret that my ex and I are not on great terms. I tried. We tried. And I am not
here to bash. That is not what this blog has ever been for. But I have learned that
niceness is sometimes construed as weakness, and that niceness does not mean
others will reciprocate. Sometimes you have to be tough. Sometimes you have to
cut ties. Sometimes these things become necessary to protect yourself, and
often in my case, necessary for me to do what I feel is best for my children.
Sometimes that means things get worse before they'll ever get better, and
sometimes that means burning bridges (that maybe should've never been built). Sometimes, rather <i>often, </i>it means being who I need to be. </span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiDNWYDh5rhyR2KhrM56C5FMxkgzcHR2eFTlr_tQM9XeKJeUjBpwlDJ5rAoSOFBNgNQzLoLpqecPxEeKkLQiji9rfs5kzQSoRw3J5sLKPsZUuzGL4pl6_pXrwtm0WgtwxfzsZ64XUjCQHM/s1600/embrace.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiDNWYDh5rhyR2KhrM56C5FMxkgzcHR2eFTlr_tQM9XeKJeUjBpwlDJ5rAoSOFBNgNQzLoLpqecPxEeKkLQiji9rfs5kzQSoRw3J5sLKPsZUuzGL4pl6_pXrwtm0WgtwxfzsZ64XUjCQHM/s1600/embrace.jpeg" /></span></a><o:p><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"> </span></o:p></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">I have talked of my divorce on my blog quite a bit. While it
does not define me, it is part of me. It has changed me. In many ways, as
clichéd as it may sound, I was refined by the fire. It has taken years to
decide who I am again, and who I want to be. I am still deciding, and it is a
tough, but extremely necessary process. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Not that long ago, in a kingdom not
that far away, a girl was coaxed into giving up the only cute car she had ever
had in exchange for a mini-van she didn't want. <i>Disclaimer here: I am not
knocking mini-vans, many people love them. If you are a proud mini-van owner,
more power to you. </i>To me, the mini-van took on a sentimental value that was not
good or healthy. It was one more step in "taming" me to be the wife someone else wanted me to be. Believe it or not, I was
a bit of a wild child in high school (close, long-lost friends feel free to laugh and nod here), and often was looked at in those years as
something that needed to be shaped into the perfect wife, an animal needing to be <i>broken.</i> The mini-van
represented a part of me gone, and I resented the fact that I had been weak and (begrudgingly) given in. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Once upon a time, in a kingdom far away, I dated the
resident "bad boy." He was older, lots of fun, and drove a red
Barracuda with a white, vinyl, convertible top. I loved that car and all that it
represented: driving too fast, bare feet up on the dash, music playing too
loud, staying out too late, and stolen kisses. Part of me loves the adrenaline
of a roller coaster, the thrill of the open ocean, candlelight dancing, and too dark lipstick. This
is a part of me that I have learned slowly to re-embrace.<b> It doesn't <i>need</i>
tamed.</b> It is these same things that allow me to bat my son's pitches in the
yard while wearing a dress, spontaneously suggest a road-trip just so we can
eat good Chinese food by the beach, and also the part of me that longs to be an
ER nurse where I will never know just what to expect. Maybe to some the thought of
motherhood, being a good wife, and being a dedicated soccer mom are somehow
ensconced by the mini-van image. But I am these things, and will do them all and
more from my bright orange car. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Barrett and I were dating when he brought that car off his friend's
car lot to show me. To impress me he later said. I fell in love. I was already in
love with the man, but as I sat behind the wheel of the car and drove it a few times, I was in love with the car too and the freedom it represented as I rebuilt my life. I blasted the
music, and enjoyed the appraising looks of other drivers. Barrett and his friend
helped me get out of my van loan into the Charger, and I never looked back. THIS
was more me. Teenage boys I taught loved it, the staff at Oil Can Henry's talked
to me about the Hemi, and on more than one occasion I tested the speed of the car (I am sure it can go faster, but 130 mph was my limit!).
I had always been a cautious, even fearful driver, but now driving was fun! This car has become a symbol to me of embracing
the things I felt I lost and still wanted to be. I love that my sons think it is
cool, and I don't care if it is shallow of me that part of me digs the image they
have of me being a "cool" mom-a a mom that snorkels, water slides, and
zip lines with them, and a mom that drives a shiny orange and black car that their
friends whisper is "sweet!" on the rare occasions I get to pick them up from school. I will take "cool" mom as often as I can get it, since I know in the years that lie ahead there will be many "uncool" moments as I lay down the law.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"> And forgive me for being crass, but mainly, what the car represents to me, is me giving my ex a big middle finger salute, as
I embrace who I am and who I want to be. For <i>me</i>. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">So maybe it is <i>just a car</i>,
but then again, maybe not.</span></div>
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Sarah Bricehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08918500786806804108noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3728044868420459777.post-3374687671235477122015-07-15T13:54:00.000-07:002015-07-15T14:24:34.409-07:00Today I celebrate the unplanned things in life…<span style="color: #741b47;"><br style="background-color: white; font-family: arial, sans-serif;" /><span style="background-color: white; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">I will celebrate this date forever, but not for the reasons you might think. </span></span><br />
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<span style="background-color: white; color: #741b47; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Today is an anniversary of sorts, or more so, an un-iversary. 15 years ago today I was 18. I was preparing for my wedding to my high school sweetheart. Today was the day that we were wed. 15 years later, I still celebrate today but for very different reasons. After 10 years of marriage I ended up a single, divorced, mother of two boys five and under. My entire world was reeling. How was I going to pay the bills? Would we have to give up the farm home that we had bought together with my parents? How in the world could I act as both a mother and a father to the kids when their's would not be around every day any longer? It was 14 days before Christmas when we separated, and I was also worried about how I would keep a happy face on for the kids when I felt like the entire world was falling apart. </span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg2KCmrerOcEYtzgZRpnuV7t1NPgbz_fpagpKdRNh5u9BkfVvIJxQ5ww5waQYCk2DnxYh0A7WG7GrNU0Ep8un1nC3X5aCrWXHn0uX1fkxLvhs4tOn0_H8cX4ojAlWjqs602yHFzdHMrkmY/s1600/abuse.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg2KCmrerOcEYtzgZRpnuV7t1NPgbz_fpagpKdRNh5u9BkfVvIJxQ5ww5waQYCk2DnxYh0A7WG7GrNU0Ep8un1nC3X5aCrWXHn0uX1fkxLvhs4tOn0_H8cX4ojAlWjqs602yHFzdHMrkmY/s200/abuse.jpeg" width="149" /></a></div>
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEimK3sOgXI06j7W54Zooq89jJyRCGfY6JzE4r5uwZB0YIg7mDntk7N2OQXW1hxsYMyic1A1A4369uQRgtCKieZuebgp8xspmnitsCg2J_FR8fuymk5kelrYvTysgI59AVIkdCXwYY_BOEo/s1600/behaved+better.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEimK3sOgXI06j7W54Zooq89jJyRCGfY6JzE4r5uwZB0YIg7mDntk7N2OQXW1hxsYMyic1A1A4369uQRgtCKieZuebgp8xspmnitsCg2J_FR8fuymk5kelrYvTysgI59AVIkdCXwYY_BOEo/s320/behaved+better.jpg" width="187" /></a><span style="background-color: white; color: #741b47; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="background-color: white; color: #741b47; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">To say that I was crushed however, would be a blatant lie. Shocked, a bit confused, and angry would be more sufficient descriptors. Another feeling kept attempting to bubble up to the surface though- even as<i> I</i> attempted to redecorate the bedroom, needing to make the space my own in that very first day. That feeling was relief. It had been 10 years of a toxic, messy, jealous, and abusive relationship. </span><br />
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<span style="background-color: white; color: #741b47; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Side note-Do you know that for years I have hesitated to use that adjective? Abusive. Like it means I am admitting that <i>I</i> was weak. Like some people might even think that it was a lie. Here's what I have learned about lying and the truth: I am a truth teller. I say this not because I am brave, but because I believe in the truth. Sometimes the truth is ugly and sad, tarnished and shameful, but just because it is not pretty, does not make it a lie. </span><br />
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<span style="background-color: white; color: #741b47; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">With my relief came just a little bit of hope as well. I felt I had wasted 10 years of my life... but they were not truly wasted. I had two beautiful sons and two college degrees to show for it. I had my mom and dad in the exact house that I was in willing to help with the children. I had a career, that while I did not love, I enjoyed most of the time. Maybe this was my chance to start over and decide who Sarah was on her own without being part of this couple that everyone knew (only they didn't really). I had just a few friends at the time due to always keeping everyone truly at arms length- something that happened a lot during that 10 years of marriage. It really was no one's fault but my own, that even my best friend of four years at the time had no idea why I would be getting a divorce! She had no idea because I very rarely spoke bad about my marriage. In those years, I tried so hard to plaster on a smile and to be strong. I reasoned that all couples had issues, so why should mine be any more important? It was quite the convincing facade . My parents and a few other family members were probably the only ones who knew any better.</span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; color: #741b47; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">I have always been someone who likes to live my life within the boundaries of the plans that I create. There is a plan for every day and every year of my life, or at least there was. My ex and I celebrated our 10 year anniversary, not very happily, and we never made it to the 11 year anniversary. This may seem like a weird thing to announce and be happy about, but I have to say now that every year on July 15th, it is a new sort of celebration. It is a </span><br />
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<span style="background-color: white; color: #741b47; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">celebration of hope, unplanned events, a new start, and a life happier and better than I had ever imagined possible for myself. Because, this day should have been my 15 year wedding anniversary, but instead I am a month and five days away from my four year wedding anniversary with the man who treats me like I am the most important thing in his entire life. I am never talked down to, I am never screamed at, I am never taken for granted, I am never scared of him, and I am never controlled. I now live in a relationship where I do not feel like I have to walk five steps behind my husband (because I could never be or do anything as valuable as he) but instead walk along by his side as a partner in life. What I do matters. What he does matters as well. This is not a competition, but instead a joint celebration of our dreams and goals. My children are well loved and don't have to hear screaming from their parents every single day. </span><br />
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<span style="background-color: white; color: #741b47; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">I have never been at such peace in my life. Even when other things, other plans are up in the air, I realize that that it doesn't really matter… God has other plans for us. Often we cannot see them, but that doesn't mean that they aren't there. Life is full of possibilities that we can't even imagine. One of the very best things in my life that has helped to make me the person that I want to be was entirely unplanned. So today, and every year now on this day, I celebrate the different path that I am on. I celebrate the options I have and the new plans I have made, and I celebrate the plans that will come to be that I know absolutely nothing about...and I welcome them. </span>Sarah Bricehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08918500786806804108noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3728044868420459777.post-72813561633290845292015-06-15T09:24:00.000-07:002015-06-15T09:24:22.722-07:00Half a Nurse...<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjTFs13B-lileFp5TylzBTQ5k1DOvmOG32CWnqHXRBRt3ZZcepOHuIaV2e_JkMBb6yIl3rtTrOswTeb6Q1Hg9RyZjSK8Kwjooh2d2_rtwEnMcuHks7tXf89g0_wYMC_fv-QAvEtfHhPCzU/s1600/nursing+school.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjTFs13B-lileFp5TylzBTQ5k1DOvmOG32CWnqHXRBRt3ZZcepOHuIaV2e_JkMBb6yIl3rtTrOswTeb6Q1Hg9RyZjSK8Kwjooh2d2_rtwEnMcuHks7tXf89g0_wYMC_fv-QAvEtfHhPCzU/s1600/nursing+school.jpeg" /></a><span style="color: #741b47; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">I made it through year 1. I am still in one piece even, and have amazed myself at the things that I have learned in just one year straight. While it will take many, many years to feel like an expert, some of the things I now can do are no small feat: I can give medications, including injections, IV pushes, and hanging IV meds. I can put in a Foley catheter, perform a complete head-to-toe assessment, pack and clean a wound, and remove drains and IVs. I can give patient discharge instructions and education before they go home from the hospital, and I can tell you which labs are not normal, need closer watch, or indicate quite serious conditions. I have well over 200 common medications (and just as many-though probably more-medical conditions) with adverse reactions, contraindications, and drug interactions swimming through my head at all times. I have learned everything from types of cancer treatments to birthing complications, cardiac emergencies to erectile dysfunction drugs, and there has been no shortage of opportunities for critical thinking. I have survived a Code Blue simulation, and while not real, I was impressed with the seriousness of my instructor and classmates, and grateful for the opportunity to practice something so vital before actually experiencing one. </span><br />
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<span style="color: #741b47; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">I remember being terrified to even go into a patient's room and take vital signs, and wondering to myself how the heck I would ever be able to do a quick (but thorough) assessment on a patient and get it electronically charted. My last week in clinical I performed 3 full assessments and charting, which was a huge feat (though I need to be able to take 5 patients by the end...but since previously I'd been taking 2 patients a day, I feel I am well on my way!). My hands shook like crazy as I hung IV fluids and programmed the pump for my IV check-off in lab. Funny, they didn't shake at all as I gave my first Zofran (an anti-emetic AKA makes you quit puking drug) push (a med that goes straight into an IV port in the patient's arm) or hung my first bag of Ampicillin (IV antibiotics). I didn't flinch when my almost naked elderly male patient started bleeding copiously from an IV site that he'd accidentally pulled out, while I quickly gloved up, held gauze to his arm, and reassured him that as soon as the bleeding stopped, he could have a clean gown on. I joked with patients that I helped ambulate (walk) around the halls after surgery, as I held their arm and directed their IV pole. And yes, the last time I wrote, I wrote how medical was not my most favorite placement...I did indeed like surgical much better. </span><br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiBR_7w3z842o-qVZzV70-M0q5VXJJE6lxiRT4u4wEa7e8pyLCso1boCJUBKW4WnBCb6lw49iuztRVjq3sL8pWfjabJgn9uZArw-mf62_HLxVNGFb7FBiGs86qMggsld8zHVY3kROkl7-I/s1600/nursing+school+2.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="color: #741b47; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiBR_7w3z842o-qVZzV70-M0q5VXJJE6lxiRT4u4wEa7e8pyLCso1boCJUBKW4WnBCb6lw49iuztRVjq3sL8pWfjabJgn9uZArw-mf62_HLxVNGFb7FBiGs86qMggsld8zHVY3kROkl7-I/s320/nursing+school+2.jpeg" width="320" /></span></a><span style="color: #741b47; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span><br />
<span style="color: #741b47; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">In the past year I have taken over as the president for the Student Nurses' Association, speaking to high school classes about the nursing program, volunteering to provide first aid at events, and yesterday helping with the graduation ceremony of the class ahead of mine. I have been really lucky in finding great classmates that I consider friends. Because I am so introverted a lot of the time, it saddens me that many are just good acquaintances, not necessarily people I would call up out of the blue, but I have made one close friend that I imagine will be a lifelong friend, and I love that we can talk about nursing stuff all day long, but also about life, our kids, and husbands too. </span><br />
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<span style="color: #741b47; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">In my final evaluation with my spring term clinical instructor, she took the time to talk to me about what I wanted after school was done. I told her I was interested in so many things, and that eventually I want to teach nursing. She told me that I am the "complete package," and that I will make an excellent instructor one day, and that patient education is perhaps my biggest strength (surprise?), and that I would make a great nurse practitioner, or she really thought, a case manager because of my ability to see the big picture about patient care. I like that idea really, though have not quite put nurse practitioner out of my mind. She also gave me the encouragement I need to do what I have been thinking of all along, which is to not go to OHSU for my BSN, but to "skip past it" so to speak and enroll in an RN-MSN program when I finish Lane. I may even be able to hold off on that statistics course for a bit (so I am not taking this summer!!). </span><br />
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<span style="color: #741b47; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Sorry for all the nursey talk, I think I needed to get it out of my system before transitioning to summer mode. This summer I am taking courses (online) to keep my teaching license up-to-date, will find out what co-op clinical placement I have gotten for the summer, and if I want to take it this week (it is optional, and it is roughly 14 full shifts), and am doing a ride-along with CAHOOTS (Crisis Assistance Helping Out On The Streets) next weekend. Of course like all summers we have soccer camp, swim lessons, and camping trips planned, but the boys are with me 2 weeks on and 2 weeks off all summer, so keeping myself busy in between is imperative! Awhile back I posted on Facebook that our family had been hit hard recently and were in need of prayer. Our health is fine (I have had some people ask), but finances are tough and may prove to get tougher (it is still not my business to fully share), and with me having 1 more year in school to go, the timing is of course awful, scary, and very stressful...that being said, I have faith that we will pull through and be just fine in the end, but your continued prayer and well-wishing are much appreciated. I hope to post again soon, and hope you enjoyed the (rather lengthy) update on my life. </span><br />
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<i><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Sarah</span></i>Sarah Bricehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08918500786806804108noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3728044868420459777.post-70301827434859054222015-04-20T13:04:00.001-07:002015-04-20T13:09:03.211-07:00Masquerading as a NurseI have not blogged in almost THREE months! I guess that in and of itself tells you how busy life is right now. I am in my 3rd term of my RN program, and in about 6 <b>long</b> weeks I will be halfway through the entire thing! Woohoo! Except, I am not quite ready to celebrate yet.<br />
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I am in my 3rd clinical placement as well, currently on the medical floor, and honestly not loving it. I have to say so far my clinical ranking goes like this:<br />
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#1 Orthopedics<br />
#2 Oncology<br />
#3 Everything else<br />
#4 Everything else<br />
#5 Everything else<br />
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#102 Medical, you (get the drift!)<br />
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In a few weeks I will begin a partial rotation on a post-surgery unit, so I am hoping things will look up a bit. I feel pretty proficienct in giving injections, including insulin, and passing daily medications, as well as performing assessments. Skills check-offs this term are IV skills (hanging meds and giving IV push meds, but not yet starting IVs), and inserting catheters. I am insanely nervous about the IV check-off, but hopefully will do fine. We get 3 tries. 3 strikes and you're out kind of thing. I won't fail out. I can't...I don't think I could make myself wait a year and hope to re-apply. Nope. If this gal fails out, back to teaching I go..., but let's think positively here.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhMqi1ID1ehpv-GQlsfZ34T_ZSK1PSTNyzHvVL6VhUoMNx9jek5zO7Imy7eKBkrO87x5-CCvC9L8J87gj3ejq806HruMIoZho29VuJE5QqsNte-7GvXDLzuB8zy4yRrAo52ZDhrZEl-HbE/s1600/fun.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhMqi1ID1ehpv-GQlsfZ34T_ZSK1PSTNyzHvVL6VhUoMNx9jek5zO7Imy7eKBkrO87x5-CCvC9L8J87gj3ejq806HruMIoZho29VuJE5QqsNte-7GvXDLzuB8zy4yRrAo52ZDhrZEl-HbE/s1600/fun.jpg" /></a>So, how am I doing? I am so glad you asked ;). I made it through the first 2 terms loving nursing school, and hanging in there with the stress. This term? Well, kind of hate it. So far. Though I have had a handful of clinical opportunities my friends have not (focused penile assessment anyone? I only <i>wish </i>I was joking). I feel like I am barely treading water, can barely keep up with the reading and assignments, and just feel unsure of myself. There's this little voice in my head that wants to scream out things like, "You trust me with that??!" or "Are you sure you want me to do this??!" almost as if I am masquerading as a nurse, but no one can see through the facade. I am assured this is normal by those that have gone before me. That being said though, it is not a good feeling. I always feel like there is something I should be doing for school (like at this very moment for instance), but I remind myself I am not a machine, and I need my timeouts too.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgx-EoWVougsAhar8AsIw8JSFPBNpG2WZfMxMvmMirNQT0bfM4wJu1rpMxVMgdxdO4XG8K0-8nmBCknhmTEqg3j7YswpflSUCRuiDl8hcOgv-Tw3qjpCXPXcH8VvXJgcivcyqzgw1Lugp4/s1600/grades.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgx-EoWVougsAhar8AsIw8JSFPBNpG2WZfMxMvmMirNQT0bfM4wJu1rpMxVMgdxdO4XG8K0-8nmBCknhmTEqg3j7YswpflSUCRuiDl8hcOgv-Tw3qjpCXPXcH8VvXJgcivcyqzgw1Lugp4/s1600/grades.jpg" /></a>I almost no longer care what grades I get. I can work my butt off for a B+ or work a little less hard for a B. I obviously care that I pass, and that I understand the bulk of the material, but I am no longer trying to kill myself for the elusive A. I 've gotten a handful, and sure, they feel good-but in the end, I just need to graduate, take the NCLEX, and become an RN. I was so proud of myself that I had not gained any weight back after first term. Ha! 6 pounds later, I have decided that stress eating cannot be the normal, everyday diet. In fact, I have a theory at this moment that there is indeed a stress wall, or a limit to stress. It goes like this: when you are under so much stress every day and things keeping piling on top of it, eventually you get kind of sarcastic (read: REALLY sarcastic), and you can no longer feel even more stressed, because you've hit your maximum stress load. I'm telling you, this must be a real thing. Then you think things like, "Sure, I can do that too!" or "Of course I wanted to spend 4 hours on a care plan tonight, AND type a reflection, AND read 200 pages...bring it." I don't think I have told anyone this, but I can gauge my stress load by how often I think about teaching, lately, it is quite a bit. In teaching, I would be on the downward slide toward the glorious summer off. In reality now (though technically I <i>can</i> take it off) I will spend my summer taking statistics (YUCK), and gaining more clinical experience in a co-op placement (a cool one I hope!). Next summer I will be prepping for the NCLEX exam, so yep...glorious summers are a thing of the past.<br />
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Recently I presented to a high school class about nursing careers and nursing school. I was reminded that I am still so thankful I am in this program, even though I really want it to be over. I have learned so, so much already and have tons more to learn. I have made good friends. So, I am sorry for the downer of a post. The clouds will part soon, I hope. Right now, it is just onward and upward, and would you like a care plan with that?<br />
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Sarah Bricehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08918500786806804108noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3728044868420459777.post-45402246340176764992015-01-23T17:43:00.000-08:002015-01-23T17:43:11.812-08:00Lessons Learned in Nursing School (So Far...)<span style="color: #6aa84f;">It was a very tough decision for me to leave teaching, because it was a career that I didn't hate and that I really enjoyed a lot of days. They say that the best time to leave a job is not when you are unhappy with it, but when you are mostly satisfied. "Mostly" is the key word here. Now I realize no job/career/person will ever 100% satisfy 100% of the time, but go with me people. You see, it is a better indicator that you will only take something that is better than what you already have, instead of making a hasty "the grass is always greener" decision. I have tried to employ this sentiment over the course of my career. I really liked working front office at the dental office I worked at for six years. I left only when I had secured my first teaching position, and even then, I thought long and hard about it. The first school I taught at, I stayed for two years. I was (mostly) happy there, but I wanted to change age groups. I left third grade to take a position teaching high school students. This was the hardest job of all to leave, because I loved my students, but I felt a little nudge each day inside that I was not fulfilling my passion. After much (MUCH) deliberation, I gave my notice that I would not be returning the following school year and would instead go complete my prerequisites for nursing. The next two years were wonderful and terrible all at once. I was not sure I liked being unemployed, and I hated some of the "filler" type classes I had to take to complete prereqs. At the same time, I got to be mostly home with Isaiah before he began kindergarten. Finally, while I was waiting to hear about the next few years (if I had gotten into nursing school), I took a temporary teaching position in alternative education. Even this job, with nursing school looming on the horizon, was hard to leave behind. Most of you know my story, and the huge changes in my personal life that also allowed me to make career changes, but I bring all this up to say that there are many times I have doubted my decision. </span><br />
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<span style="color: #4c1130;">There are days that I have thought I was crazy to go back to school after spending years to get my teaching license and my graduate degree. There have been moments where I have thought, "I left teaching to learn this?" I tell you this because I have often had friends say that I am dedicated or that I seem so sure. I am not always sure. But I am getting more sure the further I get into the nursing program. I enjoy what I am learning (mostly), and I love taking care of patients. The patient I worked with the last two days got to know me a bit, and had told me today as he left that he wished me luck and happiness in my career and that I had made a very courageous decision. That made my week. I have not once thought of my career change as courageous. Scary? Yes. Insane? Maybe. Courageous? Nope. But I get his point. I am pursuing my passion, and in that I am also teaching my sons that we work hard for the things we want. Sometimes it is so stressful we cry. Some Friday nights bedtime cannot come soon enough. But the closer the goal gets, the more we push. Because it matters. Because it fills my heart. Because little by little I am on my way. </span><br />
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So what has nursing school taught me so far? What advice would I give to anyone else?<br />
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<li><span style="color: #e06666; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">There are many types of nurses. This is a good thing. Some nurses are a bit stressed and frazzled, others go about the day laughing it off. It takes all kinds. I have seen many different personalities so far, and they all have been great nurses. </span></li>
<li><span style="color: #e06666; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">To piggy-back on that-we all have our strengths. Learning these strengths and honing them is important. For me so far, developing a good rapport with patients and patient education are both strengths.</span></li>
<li><span style="color: #e06666; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">We all like different things. This is also a good thing. Not every nurse wants to work in the ICU or the ER. Some nurses love to start IVs, some love to teach joint replacement classes, and some love the excitement of a code blue. Find what you like, and match it with what you are good at.</span></li>
<li><span style="color: #e06666; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Advocate for your patient. If you have been with them all day and know that the pain meds aren't cutting it, be brave and call the doctor and get them what they need.</span></li>
<li><span style="color: #e06666; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">There is no room for squeamishness. An IV starts bleeding, a patient coughs on you, you have to educate about (and possibly give) a rectal suppository. It is your business to know when your patient passes gas, urinates or has a bowel movement. You may need to tell them when they are okay to be sexually active again after surgery. Get over it. These are all imperative things to be able to talk about.</span></li>
<li><span style="color: #e06666; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Make friends with your fellow students. Who else can you text with before 6AM (not even kidding) to talk to about clinical prep packets? Who else can you commiserate with about an instructor or an upcoming exam?</span></li>
<li><span style="color: #e06666; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Take the material seriously. There is so much to learn, but what we are taught could literally save a life.</span></li>
<li><span style="color: #e06666; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Make time to laugh too. Not everything can be serious. I take 1-2 days/nights off each week to spend with my family and to not think about nursing school. Life goes on outside school as well. </span></li>
<li><span style="color: #e06666; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Ask intelligent questions. Instructors do not want to answer the same thing over and over again, and you should know why hemoglobin and hematocrit rise or fall and what blood thinners do by the second term of the program. They <b>will </b>give you the "why the hell are you asking this?" look even if they don't say that out loud.</span></li>
<li><span style="color: #e06666; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Have family and friends that support you. Your people need to know that you won't always be free, and that yes, you study a lot. Also, have people willing to let you practice on them! </span></li>
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What would you add?<br />
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<br />Sarah Bricehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08918500786806804108noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3728044868420459777.post-43079280371622970672015-01-03T18:27:00.001-08:002015-01-03T18:27:11.434-08:00Taking Chances in 2015<div> As I sit here in a snowy wonderland, I am reflective of my life and my past year. It has been a great one and I'm excited about 2015. <div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgB_ziUSQ0KRFh5iAnZnegHHBPgQWVQGzU5wJNqUTtoML5HXTDq0qx4T4-ssx5qX7Ij4VjCpTuhMZkrjDgDSSbjMK0IGzR2ENP9ucOoXDrMODHN_IaNlNvnDJljuuKR5ml0TijwMv8bksk/s640/blogger-image-1310124705.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgB_ziUSQ0KRFh5iAnZnegHHBPgQWVQGzU5wJNqUTtoML5HXTDq0qx4T4-ssx5qX7Ij4VjCpTuhMZkrjDgDSSbjMK0IGzR2ENP9ucOoXDrMODHN_IaNlNvnDJljuuKR5ml0TijwMv8bksk/s640/blogger-image-1310124705.jpg"></a></div></div><div><br></div><div>I have not had much time to blog lately, and that is mostly a good thing. Due to my very restless nature, I am happiest when busiest. This annoys many people, but it is me. I had a fellow student/friend text the other day lamenting the fact that break was almost over. She asked if I was ready to go back. "Actually, yeah," was my reply. Vacations are so very nice, but I also have to say that I have found myself (though not always) in love with the day-to-day as well. That is when so much of life takes place. There are so many snuggles with kids, shared laughs with my husband, and good cups of coffee. There are soccer games to attend and concepts to study for. It is a good life.</div><div><br></div><div>I made a few resolutions this year. </div><div>1. Laugh more, stress less.</div><div>2. Don't be afraid to look stupid in order to try/learn something new.</div><div>3. Balance nursing school with life making time for family, friends, and myself.</div><div>I think these are good ones, and the first two really have to do with a big change in me (even the third one a bit). I used to be so scared of what people would think of me. How did I look? Did I say the right thing? What if friends don't really like me? I have never even been dancing, even though I love to dance, because I'm not good at it. Even when I weighed 25 lbs less I was self conscious in a bikini. It's time to stop this nonsense. This is my life, and I'm going to have fun and be me. You know what I realized in Maui, as I sat there sucking in my stomach shying away from the pool where my kids played? I looked around me. There was a woman that could probably be considered chubby in the pool laughing with her kids. She didn't look ugly to me- she looked full of joy. I sprang from my seat to go down the water slide, much to the happiness of my family. It dawned on me that these people don't care how I look in a two piece-they're too worried about how THEY look or (if they're lucky, they're enjoying the moment)! Besides, why should I care what they think?!</div><div><br></div><div>My first day of clinical on the oncology unit, the very first opportunity for patient care, was for a dying woman. I followed my nurse in, and my heart stopped. The patient reminded me of my grandmother who died from cancer nine years ago. Every cell in me was ready to turn, run, and throw in the towel. Teaching here I come again and goodbye nursing! But I took a deep breath, and though there were tears in my eyes, I helped. I really feel I am better for it too. The compassion I had for the family was 100% genuine.</div><div><br></div><div>Today, I strapped on skis for the first time in over 20 years. I skied once as a kid, if you could even call it that since I never made it out of the lessons after managing to ski over my own hand (I am just that special). Barrett loves to ski (downhill) and I'm terrified of it. I told him I'd try cross country. I went into it knowing I would fall- I mean come on- you're strapping slippery things to your feet for the purpose of sliding in the snow. Combine that with the fact that I am a klutz, and falling is going to happen. Somehow embracing that fact made it better. I fell 4 times, but you know what? I had a blast, and am so glad I tried it!<div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjqmnM-W0Ta4q9PqYTTey28lGPWnF6o6ltp8gyiXh9HssvgW7mQLY8UVje3CUZaqieCTm9Ig9DwyMsQP2cAJ4ba-1Tc5ypp5cOOwKrmGWYmk0MPoRKpcesPqdC7Z1a-fX71OpgTXHE803Q/s640/blogger-image-835172762.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjqmnM-W0Ta4q9PqYTTey28lGPWnF6o6ltp8gyiXh9HssvgW7mQLY8UVje3CUZaqieCTm9Ig9DwyMsQP2cAJ4ba-1Tc5ypp5cOOwKrmGWYmk0MPoRKpcesPqdC7Z1a-fX71OpgTXHE803Q/s640/blogger-image-835172762.jpg"></a></div></div><div><br></div><div>I know this has been a rambling post, but my reason for the three scenarios above is this: take a chance. Know that you may falter and even fall, but it is so much better to live life fully than from the sidelines. It will make you a stronger, happier person I believe. </div><div> Happy New Year!</div><div><br></div>Sarah Bricehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08918500786806804108noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3728044868420459777.post-79090857977641848342014-12-02T11:40:00.000-08:002014-12-02T11:40:30.968-08:00Annual Christmas UPDATE with Photos!<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">It has been almost a month since I have written! The time flies when you are: </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">A-a mother of two young boys</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">B-a full-time nursing student </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">C-Starting to stress about finals</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">D-Planning for Christmas Break</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">E-All of the Above</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">If you guessed E, you are correct...but is it the MOST correct answer? Sorry, just a little nursing school humor for you there. My frazzled brain giggled at that-hope yours did too. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">So, I actually am sending out Christmas cards, very nice ones I might add, but I only ordered enough for 60 of my closest family, friends, and favorite acquaintances. This is for everyone that I would love to share with, but as I am a poor college student, you get the electronic version. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><b>OUR YEAR IN REVIEW</b></span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhF0nPsiSzt7cqZRBymk5W9Z6ycEuc-ByZ_ozdvciQGZ5H_V9jNaHk4nY6ZNEoTRdKxryLXR04YtXNR1C2KT-blAwtl-2zyRZn2epN1oKDzcopyNdYAlvgW9j7QO2CF1n9qyVRtZ1XNSuQ/s1600/DSC_0317.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhF0nPsiSzt7cqZRBymk5W9Z6ycEuc-ByZ_ozdvciQGZ5H_V9jNaHk4nY6ZNEoTRdKxryLXR04YtXNR1C2KT-blAwtl-2zyRZn2epN1oKDzcopyNdYAlvgW9j7QO2CF1n9qyVRtZ1XNSuQ/s1600/DSC_0317.jpg" height="263" width="400" /></a></div>
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><b>Isaiah James: </b></span><br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhsP88eq3iIynQ-pdqPppq50lDwhUz281z0OLN2d6x-p7aCGkrAHbFinazM6z1V-TvwFO3XZLlapVnNQtls5voCHRaX35tn-cSxtG99gVlUL4kpv95xk_U9u0R31r0Bg70TaQfYPsCW11o/s1600/DSC_0039.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhsP88eq3iIynQ-pdqPppq50lDwhUz281z0OLN2d6x-p7aCGkrAHbFinazM6z1V-TvwFO3XZLlapVnNQtls5voCHRaX35tn-cSxtG99gVlUL4kpv95xk_U9u0R31r0Bg70TaQfYPsCW11o/s1600/DSC_0039.JPG" height="320" width="211" /></a><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">My sweet, baby boy is 6 this year and in 1st grade. Isaiah amazes me daily with an attitude that honestly used to bother me, but I have come to truly admire. He is not afraid to speak the truth or to go against the grain-both qualities that will serve him so well in later years (though we do have to teach him some tactfulness and politeness to go with). He has picked up reading with a speed and fluency that never ceases to amaze me, and can spell about half the words on his older brother's spelling list. He also loves math (doesn't get that from me). This past year Zay has played soccer for his third year, and is becoming a great player. He loves to do crafts and listen to music, and is the most extroverted one in our little family!</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><b>Matthew Lewis: </b></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">My first-born boy is now 9!! I can hardly believe it and teared up at his 9th birthday thinking he is halfway to being an adult now. Matthew continues to play soccer (in his 5th year), and has been playing on the local AYSO team as well as a club team. He wants to try out other sports as well, and I am afraid we will have to have him decide at some point what to focus on since doing it all is not possible! :) Matt is in his second year of Cub Scouts, and has grown in maturity, responsibility and his awareness of community service. He is interested in what I am learning in school, and tells me now that he wants to be a doctor (though of course we all know that is destined to change many, many times over the next few years!). Much to my delight, Matthew has taken an interest in Harry Potter, Percy Jackson, and Lord of the Rings (the latter being way to difficult to read at this time, but he loves those movies nonetheless). </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><b>Me: </b></span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgrTzf9-3QIJkX_KYKntELeUjiTHK4llvhorXFqwJhmiEhRkAeWoNwkTL713eRTH7Y6gKqn5PeyG9LV0L1eyv5h2o7LIdpDo6PI7aO_kKIaIw8hR-70TgugjYu4mwytMg6wDoCv4B3I9b0/s1600/Detroit+Fun-Edits-0060.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgrTzf9-3QIJkX_KYKntELeUjiTHK4llvhorXFqwJhmiEhRkAeWoNwkTL713eRTH7Y6gKqn5PeyG9LV0L1eyv5h2o7LIdpDo6PI7aO_kKIaIw8hR-70TgugjYu4mwytMg6wDoCv4B3I9b0/s1600/Detroit+Fun-Edits-0060.jpg" height="200" width="138" /></a></div>
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjA60M8Pq-n9NMYfWXi032P5kOyKsxvFfTStih1ZNfgkaiMnpaeC9EHxd0_zx9jvTJLjDf5jDKdlZt3V6xXx0KVDK1sFOlqdflrQQ_N05wTB8uMs8qGaM6s7_xgj3ZrZ2x6BSYj2DBrok4/s1600/DSC_0458.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjA60M8Pq-n9NMYfWXi032P5kOyKsxvFfTStih1ZNfgkaiMnpaeC9EHxd0_zx9jvTJLjDf5jDKdlZt3V6xXx0KVDK1sFOlqdflrQQ_N05wTB8uMs8qGaM6s7_xgj3ZrZ2x6BSYj2DBrok4/s1600/DSC_0458.JPG" height="211" width="320" /></a><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Well, you mostly know my story. I am almost done with the first term of 6 in my RN program and will likely take a 6-12 month break to begin working when this is all said and done Summer of 2016, and then go on to OHSU to get my BSN. I LOVE nursing school, and love my first clinical placement in Oncology, though I am interested in many things (Pediatrics, Labor and Delivery, ER, Community Health Nursing, and Hospice...), and hope that over the next 2 years I will fall in love with a particular area-though I know I will also be willing to go where the jobs are at-especially at first! Nursing school is a challenge, and I enjoy what I am learning about. I am also making some great friends along the way. I can now do vital signs, head-to-toe assessments, clinical prep packets, and am starting to know more than your average Joe about medications and their uses and interactions. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><b>Barrett:</b></span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiSTmAMa3Hy2rk4ySTBCB-pP0qQYjcSmnQcktRb2F6h2uBM5CmXR-TLdipLU2jlfcG5eVPaE7nGSgHXZnrLHww8bII2IcxZMwU3VqFESiOThKn9wbBMIa31pSIzCDpD9li2aWQp1RHzy-U/s1600/DSC_0330.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiSTmAMa3Hy2rk4ySTBCB-pP0qQYjcSmnQcktRb2F6h2uBM5CmXR-TLdipLU2jlfcG5eVPaE7nGSgHXZnrLHww8bII2IcxZMwU3VqFESiOThKn9wbBMIa31pSIzCDpD9li2aWQp1RHzy-U/s1600/DSC_0330.JPG" height="263" width="400" /></a></div>
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh07Z0wSCKQD-VBmrGOyGLn7enxDVjoZ-ungzo3QdHvJGbBWmT5nYJEeNb6s0EDqH0otrO9GaD7rC4bvwqkm1hFWgTFwEj0fK7R1alUbgYBsOUyJtp3NAtdbTMaaCFaFT_7P1c46_lCigI/s1600/DSC_0378.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh07Z0wSCKQD-VBmrGOyGLn7enxDVjoZ-ungzo3QdHvJGbBWmT5nYJEeNb6s0EDqH0otrO9GaD7rC4bvwqkm1hFWgTFwEj0fK7R1alUbgYBsOUyJtp3NAtdbTMaaCFaFT_7P1c46_lCigI/s1600/DSC_0378.JPG" height="130" width="200" /></a><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Barrett amazes me. He would never brag on himself, so this is my chance to do it. This man supports me at every turn. He has taken over almost all of the household responsibilities to allow me to focus on school and spend time with the kids when I am home. He is doing well at the company he has been with for 3 1/2 years, and has even earned two work-from-home days! Barrett gets up every morning to cook the boys a real breakfast before school, and on nights I have later classes, he reads and does homework with the boys. I am so very blessed to have such a wonderful family man. He, and the boys too, also let me practice on them any chance I need to for school! Barrett does like to try to throw me off by acting as a crotchety old man-telling me I need to get used to it!!</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><b>Our Family: </b></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">All in all, this has been an amazing year! We have camped, swam, visited two water-parks, gone to Washington and California, and Hawaii (B and I), and we have a trip to Maui planned in 11 days (!!!) as our Christmas gift for our family this year! Matt and Zay are soooo excited (as are the adults). We have relied on one another during illnesses and schedule changes, and have spent lots of time with my parents and B's grandparents. LIFE IS GOOD. </span><br />
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<span style="color: #990000; font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;"><i><b>We wish you a Merry Christmas and a Happy New Year!!</b></i></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Until Next time, </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Sarah</span>
<!-- Blogger automated replacement: "https://images-blogger-opensocial.googleusercontent.com/gadgets/proxy?url=http%3A%2F%2F1.bp.blogspot.com%2F-OZ4Htx5JbmQ%2FVH4RubI_P7I%2FAAAAAAAABRg%2Fe8g9v80Hd00%2Fs1600%2FDSC_0378.JPG&container=blogger&gadget=a&rewriteMime=image%2F*" with "https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh07Z0wSCKQD-VBmrGOyGLn7enxDVjoZ-ungzo3QdHvJGbBWmT5nYJEeNb6s0EDqH0otrO9GaD7rC4bvwqkm1hFWgTFwEj0fK7R1alUbgYBsOUyJtp3NAtdbTMaaCFaFT_7P1c46_lCigI/s1600/DSC_0378.JPG" -->Sarah Bricehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08918500786806804108noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3728044868420459777.post-88600855859415152852014-11-03T08:33:00.001-08:002014-11-03T08:41:48.489-08:00Setting the Record Straight: Why I DO Miss Teaching but Will Likely Never go BackI read a great article last night posted by a friend <a href="http://www.teachthought.com/teaching/why-good-teachers-quit/" target="_blank">Why Good Teachers Quit</a>. It got me thinking about a lot of the reactions I get when I say I used to teach. My instructors seem to respect that, and even will engage me in questions about whether I will pursue teaching within the field of nursing down the road. The overall reaction I get from classmates and acquaintances though is one of understanding disdain. More often than not, a reaction such as, <i>"Oh wow. I could never work with teenagers!" </i>Or something along the lines of, <i>"I have a friend (cousin, brother, ex spouse's nephew...) that teaches, and is very unhappy." </i>I am not putting anyone down, people want to be nice and to understand. What I am pointing out is that no-one ever says, <i>"Oh, you did? Do you miss it?" </i>It is as if the entire field of education has gotten a bad rap. There are politics galore, un-involved parents, and attitudinal snotty-nosed kids.<br />
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And there are those things, but I personally didn't leave because of those factors. I left because I was bored with my subject matter (something I likely brought on myself by specializing a bit <i>too</i> much), longing to be a nurse, and wanting more time with my family. I LOVED teaching Biology, Health, and Anatomy & Physiology (absolute favorite!), and not so much love was to be had for Physical Science, Math or Life Science (that was purely because the subject matter was similar to Biology but very watered down). I got to be pretty creative in how I ran my classes, much more creative even than when I was teaching elementary school, but I couldn't just decide to do Art one day or to switch over and teach high school literature (something I'd have loved to try).<br />
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The reasons I left teaching never had anything to do with the students. I loved them!!! I still do. I keep in touch with lots of my former students. I adored my teens, and you know what? I miss them. I really, really do. Sometimes I get wistful and teary-eyed thinking of my favorite classroom memories. My last six months teaching I worked with the hardest of the hard teens. These teens had criminal records or drug problems or absent parents (or all of the above). It would have been an easy job to walk away from and never look back...but sometimes, I regret leaving. They touched my heart, and they depended on me, which was the reason (above salary, employment or anything else) that I stayed with them until the very last day of school-completing my contract though I knew I was moving on.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgKe4AEYGAIgljvrR2tx3YIYstJBZg_MOW01X-BAs7M5zGDZSVmfYDZ2R3OL1nfVu7K-CFhJRF1j0Rm2Z23WjvRb-L9t75vtkDIpw-QxQvQQgA75difmwlb29iVFbmaGDB90wpOVroQtCM/s1600/teacher+3.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgKe4AEYGAIgljvrR2tx3YIYstJBZg_MOW01X-BAs7M5zGDZSVmfYDZ2R3OL1nfVu7K-CFhJRF1j0Rm2Z23WjvRb-L9t75vtkDIpw-QxQvQQgA75difmwlb29iVFbmaGDB90wpOVroQtCM/s1600/teacher+3.jpg" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Sadly, not an exaggeration!</td></tr>
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The reasons I left teaching were not the parents. I had my share of lousy and overbearing ones, but most the parents I dealt with cared, and were willing to help. I had parents involved simply because they knew that I cared about their child. Yes, some were not helping matters much. Some were adding to the situation their children were in, but most were trying. You see, it is SO easy to judge. It is so easy to say that students and their parents don't deserve the time of day when they won't help themselves. But have you been in their shoes? The kid that never finishes work and falls asleep in class everyday is exhausted because he is working long hours after-school to help his dad pay the bills; his mom left when he was a baby. The mom that shows up to every meeting, but never seems to really help make any changes at home-she is battling a terminal illness <b>and just the fact that she is there is so much more than many others would do.</b> The teenage girl that talks only about her boyfriend? Dad has never been around and her mom is too occupied at home with a special needs son. Most parents want to help as much as they possibly can. Some do not know how to help, most are overwhelmed, and some I have seen so grateful that a teacher cares about their child, they were hugging me and crying because <i>no one else had seen the value in their kid.</i> Which makes me angry. How does a kid make it to 10th or 11th grade with not a single teacher telling their parents that they have the ability to succeed??!! Sometimes, sadly, it is the system.<br />
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Teachers are asked to do far too much in too little time. Some would add for too little pay. I never cared a ton about the pay, even when I needed it, but I understand that the pay is pretty dismal. Most teacher's have a Master's degree which takes 5-6 years of college. This means student loan debt of anywhere from $50-100,000. That's insane right there. When I was teaching full time, I could barely make my minimum student loan payment, but that is another issue altogether. I left partly for my own desires to do something else, but I left partly because of shear exhaustion and burn-out. To be the type of teacher I wanted to be, the type my students deserved took way more than 40 hours a week!!! There was never a day without planning, grading, implementing or learning new things myself. Sometimes I enjoyed that. Sometimes I am asked how I can leave a career with such good hours for a career in which I will likely work my share of night shifts, weekends, and holidays. I want to laugh. I already worked all of those. I honestly put in 50-60+ hours a week easily, and everything above 40 was uncompensated. If I work over 40 hours a week as an RN you bet your butt it will be paid. Oh, and don't get me started on that little "perk" that teachers of older students get. The mythical prep period. It is supposed to be 45-50 minutes a day of time you get to do teacher things like grading and lesson planning. In reality that will not happen. You may have another class using your classroom during that period, if budgets are real bad, you will be pulled to sub for someone else during your prep, or you will inevitably have to go talk with administration- "come see me during your prep." Prep period is a lie.<br />
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Society sees teachers as having so much time off. You get a WHOLE summer they say! Umm no. Summers are spent prepping for the next school year, attending mandatory training classes during your "time off" and taking college courses required to keep your teaching license current. I have the utmost respect for my former colleagues still in the field. You do work that matters.<br />
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On the other hand, can you blame me for wanting a career in which I can still help people, but at the end of my shift I can clock out, go home, and not think about work again until my next day?? It is not the students, it is rarely the parents, sometimes it is the system, but usually it just the pure expectations and devouring of time.<br />
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At the end of the day, I do miss it. But at the end of the day no matter how much my career is a <i>calling </i>or full of helping others, it is still a <i>job</i>. It was full of too much time worried about other people's children, and not enough on my own. It was time spent away from my family-time I will never get back. The #1 reason I left a job touted as being family friendly? It was anything but.Sarah Bricehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08918500786806804108noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3728044868420459777.post-1120522531926226682014-10-29T07:45:00.001-07:002014-10-29T07:45:19.455-07:00So what, you may ask, is nursing school really like? <span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-size: 12.7272720336914px;"><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">So what, you may ask, is nursing school really like? </span></span><br />
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<span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-size: 12.7272720336914px;"><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">I am past the first month in nursing school. I have passed my nursing midterm with an A, and I'm thrilled about that! I am now midway through week five which means I am over halfway through the entire first term of the program. It feels like just yesterday that I was questioning whether or not I should even do this… it feels like just yesterday that I locked the door of my classroom for the last time and told myself I wouldn't look back. It feels like just yesterday that I cried wondering if I had made the right decision.</span></span><br />
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<span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-size: 12.7272720336914px;"><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"> I have to tell you that I have never been so happy (on a personal level, I mean I have been thrilled family wise, relationship wise....you get my drift), I have never felt so challenged mentally and physically to do things right, to get things done the correct way, and I've never felt so actively engaged in any academic material that I have ever learned in college. While I enjoyed getting my bachelor's and my master's degrees, I never found it difficult. I liked some of the classes quite a bit and the professors and my classmates, but I guess it never really felt like home- but I didn't realize that until now. But I will never regret my background in education. It has already helped me tremendously. </span></span><br />
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<span style="background-color: white;"><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><span style="color: #222222;"><span style="font-size: 12.7272720336914px;"> I walk into the nursing building and I feel at home. And I should-some days I am there so long it feels like I live there! It is part of me. I'm smiling on the way to school most days, though not all. I really truly enjoy my professors, and have such a </span></span><span style="color: #222222; font-size: x-small;">camaraderie</span></span><span style="color: #222222;"><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: 12.7272720336914px;"> with my classmates that I never felt possible. People that I can talk to about the ins and outs of something that I am passionate about. It is a really good feeling! Though I still have far to go in this program, and in my nursing career of course, I can tell you that it feels real. There's no other way to describe it. With in just one week, I have cried because I am overwhelmed, I have jumped with joy over understanding a concept or getting something down, I have witnessed a patient in the process of dying and the sorrow of their family, and I've witnessed things too gross to really talk about with most normal people, though I thought they were amazingly cool! </span><b style="font-size: 12.7272720336914px;">Nursing is real.</b><span style="font-size: 12.7272720336914px;"> The few days I have spent in the hospital left me with the same feeling I had in my CNA hospital rotation-you leave kind of in a daze, amazed that life for many other people has still been carrying on </span><span style="font-size: x-small;">outside</span><span style="font-size: 12.7272720336914px;"> </span><span style="font-size: x-small;">those</span><span style="font-size: 12.7272720336914px;"> hospital doors. Nursing school makes </span><i style="font-size: 12.7272720336914px;">me</i></span><span style="font-size: 12.7272720336914px;"><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"> feel real. It is such a good fit for me.</span><span style="font-family: arial, sans-serif;"> I love nursing school, despite the huge stress, seemingly unrealistic expectations, time crunches, sadness and anxiety...or maybe, maybe because of all these things, knowing at the end of the day that not only can I do this, but I can make a difference to a patient.</span></span></span></span><br />
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<span style="background-color: white;"><span style="color: #222222; font-family: arial, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: 12.7272720336914px;"><br /></span></span></span>Sarah Bricehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08918500786806804108noreply@blogger.com0