Studying.

I am studying for my ‘last exam’ in my nursing care class. I still have the final, but this is the last normal exam… those tricky poopers.

I feel compelled to share some notes I’ve been reviewing.  These are the little ‘ditties’ I type in class to be sure to remember.  You will see that clearly, they are the most important points to remember.  Ever.

Regarding pressure points on the body: “Pressure ulcers may occur on the heals / back of head / sacrum-coccyx area / and the ‘bow bow’

Regarding acid-base imbalances: “Renal failure causes so much hullaballo”

Regarding ascities: “Ascities is like being pregnant with a big, fat baby in the tummy and its eating all of your albumin.  Nomnomnom. But there’s no baby there.”

Regarding the Chvostek sign for hypocalcemia: “Positive Chvostek’s is like a Russian spy saying to someone he’s not a spy, but then winking at you to say – yes, I’m really a spy.  And I’m super low on Calcium.”

Regarding skin lesions: “The difference b/w primary and secondary skin lesions is that generally, secondary lesions are more gross.”

There you are.  I’m fairly certain that this is all one needs to know about anything.  You are welcome.

port-a-pity

Sometimes life is tough.

Whelp. Not really.  I don’t live in a war torn area.  I don’t have a limited supply of food.  I have access to education, food, clean water, and many other blessings that are easy to take for granted.

So, I guess sometimes life just feels tough.  When this happens, I am always amazed at the little things that lift me back up when I am sitting in a stinky ol’ pity-filled port a potty.

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No more of this pity party nonsense.  Since when did wallowing in pity become a party?  There is no cake.  There are no decorations.  Most of all, there is no one with you celebrating the woefulness of your life.  Soaking in self pity is more like squatting in a stinky, excessively-used, port of potty.  Or port-o-pity.  😉

It smells.  Its lonely.  Its dark.  It seems like your trapped in this poopy place.

However, it is optional.  At any time, one can flip the door lock from ‘Occupied’ to ‘Vacant’ and mosey on out into the clean, fresh air (unless you are the victim of a horrible practical joke, in which case, please call for help; it must be really awful in there.)

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I digress.  My point is, when I wallow in self pity, everything seems dark and stinky.  And I don’t necessarily realize that I have the simple choice to just get out of it.  Walk out of the pity pot.  Leave it a stinky part of my past.  Sometimes I have to be shaken out of it.  Someone has to knock on the door and say, “Hey, want to get out of there? Uhh, its been a while…”  or “I see a cotton candy vendor!” That will get me out too.

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That is where friends come in.  Friends have the amazing ability to open the door to the port a pity, let in the light, tell you to pull up your pants, and get you outta there!

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Just amazing.  I am so grateful for all of the friends in my life.  Who knows where I would be without them.  Probably trapped in a “portable toilet” at some janky fairground somewhere.  Geee-roooss.