That's my new made up word.
Last week I went out with J, a night nurse, and we apparently had a wonderful time. We had Vietnamese food, then continued on for coffee and cheesecake, then even walked in the park a bit. We stayed up until 1:00am, and the next day I was all happy and giddy and couldn't wait to see him again. Three days pass, and now I no longer want to see him again. We exchanged a few emails, the usual, "I had a great time, hope we can do it again." So that's not the problem. I have no idea what happened inside my head, except that the happy giddy feeling has been replaced and now I just feel weird about him, not entirely comfortable, and am remembering the not-so-good things rather than the "aww" things about the date. Nothing in particular was "not-so-good," so I'm having a really hard time explaining this. Except that now it's bothering me that he never asked the names of my dogs, and I think he was kind of pushy and cocky. Last night he called a couple of times, but didn't leave a message. In case I haven't mentioned this before, I'm really big on a few little things, like phone etiquette. Like, I obviously KNOW that you called (twice!) so a normal, polite thing to do would be to leave a simple message and I will call you back when I can. Do you think that if you call more than once, I will eventually be fooled into wondering what that funny beepy sound is, coming from this small piece of gray plastic, and press the start button?! Anyway, I'm confused by myself on this one. I just don't want to see him again. So there.
Last night little Ted was very ill, it was very heartbreaking. The vomiting and diarrhea are no fun of course, but it's even sadder to see him so lethargic and depressed. I ordered a pizza, and he slept in the other room the whole time I was eating! He was too sickies to even scratch his butt. This morning he seemed a bit peppier, although rather annoyed that all he got for breakfast was rice. I may go get him some boiled chicken (can I buy it pre-boiled? I don't want to touch it raw. And how does one boil chicken? Should I just cut it up, then throw it into boiling water?!) and cottage cheese for his dinner, maybe that will be more appetizing while remaining bland enough for his upset tummy. I also want to give him pedialyte for dehydration and metronidazole for a tummy bug and draw his electrolytes, but I must just be a doggy-mom first and a nurse second. Sigh.
In exciting news, this week I discovered these. Go look! NOW! And now I must look to my left in order to see myself, because I am absolutely BESIDE MYSELF in the cuteness that these things are. Can you even STAND it?! Can you IMAGINE the lambs?! ARGH! So I am well chuffed (and British, for a moment, apparently) that my dream farm, of miniature animals, will truly be complete. The pygmy goats, mini horses, and wee piggies will be pleased to have some wooly friends.
I have a job interview this week (shhhhh). I am super excited and nervous, not so much over the interview itself, but that if I get this new job, of the transition I will have to make. And it's a strange thing to reconcile in my mind, because I love my current job. I love the unit, and my co-workers, and my patients and their families. I love the work we do, the teaching and research environment, the support of the whole medical team, and the sunrises. But I don't love the medically futile things that we do, when I stop doing things FOR the patient and do things TO him, when people aren't afforded the dignity of dying peacefully and when they are ready. I don't love taking care of someone for weeks and weeks and always losing them in the end. I feel like a weenie because there are many wonderful nurses in our ICU who have been doing this for years and continue to do this, and I wonder what they're made of that I'm missing, because I can't do it anymore. But I also became a nurse there, I started as a wee nurse technician, only two quarters into nursing school, scared of someone else's vomit and fumbling my way around a glucometer, and I grew up into an emesis-bucket holding IV-starting ICU nurse. And now I guess I just want to see what else is out there.