zyzyly (zyzyly) wrote,
zyzyly
zyzyly

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July 20--Agatha and Edith

For some reason today I thought about whether I missed being a bedside nurse. I suppose I miss parts of it. I miss spending time with patients and their families, talking to them about what is going on, helping to get them through whatever it is they are getting through.

I miss using my critical care nursing skill set, which I developed over many years of practice. I could rely on my intuition and instincts, and almost always knew what to do. There is a nursing theorist who describes that process, and has written that it takes 10 years to get from novice to expert.

I don't think I could go back into the ICU again. It wouldn't be the same, and I don't think I could handle the relentless 12-hour shifts any more. I do miss it, thought. As I was writing this, I remembered the reason I thought about it. We drove past my old hospital on the way to take a walk in the rose garden and have lunch at a dim sum place in midtown.

wild rose

The rose garden was lovely as always. There were lots of people in the large park surrounding it, but very few people in the garden--mostly volunteers doing some pruning and watering. We wandered around for about a half-hour, sometimes stopping to sit on a bench and take it in.

grandfather plant

This reminded me of my grandfather's back yard. Not the grandfather I write about--the other one who died when I was fairly young--my dad's father. Our birthdays were one day apart, and when he turned 80, I turned 8. I remember him as an old man. His name was Joe.

I like the haziness of the picture. When I think of his back yard, it is hazy and somewhat desaturated in my memory, much like the image above. I could have sharpened it up, but let it be. I prefer my memories somewhat hazy.
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