Early Twenties Renovation

For posterity sake, I guess I need to update my blog about where I've been, what I've been doing, for the past 6 months. Since the cyberspace inanimate object cares so much... I will start from the beginning.

An old friend, who looms around and can sneak up on you and scare you, or who can gradually work its way back into your life and offer some excitement, made its presence known in May 2010. This old friend's name is Change.

Change, meet Meredith.

Meredith, meet Change.

"Oh I know you...," said Change, "remember me?"

Of course I do.

I, reluctantly at first, welcomed Change back into my life.

What Change meant for me was a position in the Emergency Department. A position for which I have always longed.

But this position wasn't in Salt Lake.

This position was in Idaho.

Okay, Change, I accept.

And accept I did! In a matter of days, I packed up my little life in Salt Lake and moved 5 hours northward to a little place I call Home.

Change and Home have kindly offered me a chance to fall in love with the ER and (most) everything about it. From intubating patients who have overdosed on any drug known to man, to cute old men who come in with chest pain, to exposed bones from deep lacerations, to tying people down to beds because they won't cooperate (and are high on any drug known to man), to little kiddos with appendix's that are about to burst.... I have learned so much.

I didn't know I could learn so much!

I have found that ER nurses are jack of all trades, but master of none. Except for IV's.

I place about 5-10 IV's a shift. Vein acupuncture is my new black.

I still can't cook, or sew, or paint my nails... but damn, I can give you an IV....

And I can put really good things through that IV. Like Ativan, or Versed, or Morphine, Or Propofol.

If you are not familiar with such goodies, google it. You'll see why they're goodies.

The ER physically and mentally drains me; but, no matter how exhausted I may be at the end of a 12-hour shift, it really does hurt so good.

The best thing Change has given me is the chance to be closer to family. I get the opportunity to see Tanner and Abby grow up right in front of my eyes!

Have I told you in awhile that Abby is only one inch shorter than me? And that she is wearing my old clothes from high school? Do I need to remind you that she is a mere twelve years old?

Have I told you that Tanner is 5 inches taller than me? And that he broke his collarbone during football season, but still received a scholarship offer from Boise State? Do I need to remind you that he is an aged seventeen year old?

I am constantly on the road of Change. I will be applying to graduate school in the fall, with 14 schools in mind scattered about the country. I am single. I do not have any children. Looks like Change and I will be remaining close for awhile.

However, there are a few things that my friend Change has not, and will not, alter.

I am still 5'10". Still a brunette. Still love to run. Still love to ski. Still love Diet Coke. And I still turn one year older every June 25th.

And I still sleep with my baby blanket.

Mortal Vitality

I am well aware I have stepped away from my blog for over half a year.

I allowed life to continue, and I unintentionally allowed myself to not chronicle it.

I certainly have been enjoying life these past months; and though I have had more time on my hands because I blog less, I have found I have enjoyed life less because I have not blogged more.

When I take the time to pause, reflect, and write, on ideas and events that I find passionate, those ideas and events become something even greater.

Though I have been encouraged by the few blog fans that I may have to start writing again, what spurs me to write today is an event where, within its borders, I found passion and was significantly moved.

I was motivated to write because of the deaths of two young people, who departed this world too soon. One person whom I knew, and the other I did not.

A childhood friend passed away in her sleep, and she returned home to Boise, to be celebrated and mourned by her family and friends. I was fortunate enough to attend her funeral, and feel of the passion people felt for her. And I was much more emotional that I had anticipated. She was beautiful, kind, quirky, artistic, never judged another, and saw the technicolor side to life.

By remembering Aubri, I was reminded that I need to be more like her. I need to learn how to be slow to anger; to have more patience; and to exhibit more kindness to others. I want to touch others, as Aubri did in her short time here.

It was a beautiful memorial service honoring Aubri and I felt so fortunate to be able to share it with my parents. And it was a beautiful car ride home with my mother, as I cried, and so did she.

It was later that same evening, when my thoughts all day had been turned to Aubri, and death, and living with passion while we can, I learned of the second death. A boyfriend of an old soccer teammate was killed in a motorcycle crash in Honduras. He had been traveling the world, living a life long dream.

My heart ached, more than it already had, for my friend and her loss. I was privately overcome with thoughts of losing such talented individuals from this earth and not knowing when others, those who are closer to me, may have the same fate.

I laid in my bed silent, alone, until the early hours of morning thinking, pondering, wiping away tears, inquiring, about how fragile life is, and always will be.

Though I was tempted, I never did ask the question, "Why?"

"Why so young? For what purpose?" For we will never know why, and I have never been one to drown myself in something that cannot be solved.

The question I did find myself asking was, "How?"

"How can I live more like them? How can I find, search, and live the passions that mean most to me?" For this question has an answer.

I started with hugging my mother a little bit tighter and longer. I played with my little sister's hair and scratched her back. I told friends that I loved them. I offered more smiles to patients who walked through the Emergency Room doors.

Though death is painful, tragic, scary, and sometimes seemingly unbearable; I found that Thursday, January 20th, as I learned of death, was filled with passionate moments and emotions that I will never forget.

And now that I have chronicled those moments, they are even greater.

Thank you Aubri Chance and Matty Lee; for you have touched others, and me, in more ways than you thought possible.