Wednesday, February 29, 2012

Breathing Lessons

Breathing is a Lenten discipline. Really. Simple breathing. One could commit to that for 40 days and be a changed person, however if you fail Lent as regularly as I do, you would be restarting this practice about every 15 minutes. 

Honestly, I am a bit of mess but then my friends know that already.  I am a bit of an imperfect perfectionist.  I am a bit of a task oriented, goal oriented, control freak kind of a person.

My house is always a mess, my laundry basket never empty, my to do list never done, I have an unfinished degree in religion, am two classes shy of completing my BSN, (it only took 25 years to complete that!), always losing my car keys, always fifteen minutes behind schedule and quite exhausted at the end of any given day.  But if you are anything like me, it probably describes your life too.  But it is really ok, because in the midst of all this is a one very ordinary, holy life that has been lived well with grace always orchestrating the whole mess.

None of these attributes are necessarily negative and during my work hours come in quite handy. Except for about three weeks ago and then this imperfect, goal oriented, way too much on her plate, exhausted gal fell flat on her face. LITERALLY.  Well actually it was kind of on my back but that is just a tiny detail. And as my one of  my favorite nurse buddy muses..."You just can't make this *&!@ up."
At least, now that my pride has recovered I can laugh about it.


I am in the midst of completing my BSN.  For some insane reason, (and my nurse friends who have gone before me in pursuit of higher education will attest to this), I decided to complete the two year program in 12 months.  Seriously.  I felt as if I was running out of time.  I have never been a very good runner (sweating vey hard just isn't my cup of tea - I gave that up one Lent shortly after I gave birth-sweating not tea). I have never even attempted much less completed a 13.1 or 5K or run anywhere farther than across a parking lot or down the grocery store aisle while chasing my son when he was two.  I let his dad play all the outdoor games.  I focused more on quiet times like naps, more naps and finger painting. I  must digress here a minute.
I just learned what a 13.1 was. I had been seeing these buttons and bumper stickers with that logo all over the place.  I thought is was some secret scripture or a radio station.  For those of you who don't know and probably everyone but me does, a 13.1 is a half marathon.  Who knew?


So since May of last year I have completed 40 semester hours of course work.  Crazy, huh?  I am now 8 hours from completion! Yeah!  I also decided last May to change jobs.  I thought I needed a little less stress in my life. So, I left hospice nursing and joined the Catheter Care Team.  (Clarification-this involves blood not urine).  I never read the fine writing and always assume everything is way easier than it really is, so when I was told I would be taking a Chemotherapy/Biotherapy Course for two weeks this month, I  thought, "game on!" How hard can one class be?  Turns out - pretty, damn hard.  I won't bore you with the cirruculum details here, but suffice it to say it involved cellular biology, pharmacology, cancer biology, the nuts and bolts of bone marrow and stem cell transplant and two textbooks. Two full weeks to absorb a career worth of knowledge.  My brain sponge is saturated.

And I was eating about 6 Subway peanut butter cookies a day.  At one point, a stranger found me outside the Subway, slumped over my steering wheel, sobbing.  He knocked on my car window and asked, "Miss- are you ok?"  Through my sobs I managed to choke out..."Yes,  I am fine, they are just out of cookies."  He looked puzzled for a minute and asked, "Can I do anything to help you?"  I said, "Unless you happen to be an oncologist who has about 40 spare hours to tutor me OR a former Navy Seal who would like to go on a search and destroy mission...probably not."  I was thinking it might be reasonable to destroy my instructor's computer and all materials related to testing.  I think he was glad when I wiped the tears from my mascara stained face and said, "You are so kind, but really I will be ok."


First test was open book and I scored an 89.  An 89 on an open book test!  My friend who loves shoes said, "Are you kidding me?" She wasn't drinking that day.  I was enjoying every drop of that Cosmopolitin and it was only 11 am.  Second test - 76 and it was just mathmatical calculations.  OK it did require that way expensive calculator I bought my son for math and I did fail Algebra II in high school, but really??!!??  I forgot to mention I needed cummulative average of an 80 to pass and one very small important fact - my employer was insistent that I pass.  The third test I scored a 51. Yep. A 51.  I think you can see where this is going,  I would need a 97 on the final to pass the course and clearly that wasn't happening. I would like to say that this is where I forgot to breathe, but looking back I probably haven't been breathing since November. 


Here is where I landed on my back and it probably saved my life again.  I am the kind of character who needs saving about twice a day. 

I have been a nurse about 25 years and have seen, smelled, touched, stepped on, heard about, watched some pretty gross and horrific stuff.  Right now I am remember a particular incident involving maggots.  BUT, I have only passed out once.  I had been scrubbed for two hours, hadn't eaten breakfast, was sweating profusely and wearing about 15 pounds of lead.  I get a pass on that one.

My instructor walks around the corner and says very kindly, "Kathleen, can we talk?"  I thought -"Guessing I didn't make that 97 I was hoping for."  When she handed me the test and to be honest who can read that much red...I think I might have stopped breathing a little bit.  Her version is that I continued to talk and plead my case of just how hard I had studied for about 5 minutes and then I just passed out.  Funny thing is I don't remember anything past "Guess I didn't get that 97."  Not one moment do I remember till I am being loaded on a stretcher headed to the ER. 

As usual, I didn't shave my legs that morning, I mean it wasn't Friday night and I wasn't planning on wearing a bathing suit anytime soon.  I wore socks that had holes in them and yes your mama was right - always wear your best socks and underwear.  The EMT was a friend.  He whispered in my ear, "Honey, could you be pregnant?"  I answered, "If I am pregnant at my age, I have got way more  problems than passing out!"

6  hours and one emergency room visit complete with full neuro, cardiac and septic work up, two bags of IV fluid later, the diagnosis - passing out.  Number one cause for passing out - holding your breath.  Suffice it to say the ER physcian thought it was best I not work for a few days and regroup. Suffice it also to say I am the only person that had passed out due to this class.

Breathing...just breathing...

We sometimes forget the simple act of breathing.  The word breath is derived
from the Latin root spiro- which means spirit. To live the spiritual life implies breathing.

God breathed life into man...
Jesus offered his breath to God on the cross...
Jesus breathed on his disciples after the resurrection...

Life comes from breath...

And yet we forget to breathe...We rush...We hurry...We worry...We toss and turn...and the simple act of breathing and returning to that breath reminds us whose we are...where we come from...and who we can be...

It is possible that breathing...really breathing...and focusing on that breath...is the most spiritual act of all...

May you be reminded that the very breath of God is in your soul, your body, your being...and do we really need anymore than that?

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