From Here to Infirmary
Let's talk about butts!
I can feel myself growing (hit play above for an audio narration of today’s post). I keep shying away from the internet; fearful of the sticky uncertainty. I’d prefer a pretty “ta-da” moment, when I’ve achieved all goals and the work is done. Also, I like to write and sometimes share my words. I repeat myself a lot. In this piece I’m going to tell you a bit about my main path through nursing, and shine a light on a side quest I’ve considered off-and-on for a few years. What if I change my mind? I might. Here’s where I’m at today (Disclosure: human beings are complex and subject to change).
A quick look back
We humans are never done growing. Even when we die, we’re becoming compost and subsequently growing into something new (true facts, people). I like that “growth mindset” — it helps me tolerate my beautiful imperfections. A career in nursing has helped me grow in many unexpected ways. I chose this caring profession when I was in high school and started working at my first nursing job when I was (barely) 22 years old. Twenty-two. My brain wouldn’t be finished cooking for another 3 years. Neat!
The Caring Call sounded long before I committed to becoming a nurse. After a Babysitting and First-Aid class at my local library when I was 11 (halfway to becoming a nurse!), I started sending out notice that I was available to babysit (only when my mom was home at first - thanks Mom!). I LOVED babies. Toddlers and small children, too, but especially BABIES!! I would babysit my neighbors’ kids, babies in the church nursery on Wednesdays, and my band and orchestra director’s kids. It was quite a discovery — getting to hang out with the cutest human creatures, AND get paid to do it. Win, win!
Somehow I decided around 16 or 17 years old that I wanted to be a nurse (I’m sure it had nothing to do with watching my mom navigate a career change at 40 from a paper company to the field of nursing. Another nod to my incredible Mom!). I didn’t know “what kind” of nurse yet (it’s not something we really “pick” till we get a job), but I applied and got accepted. Yay! I figured I’d eventually work with children.
Nursing school includes classes and clinical experiences caring for patients from pregnancy to birth to infinity, and some people know from the get-go what “kind of nurse” they want to be (pediatrics, labor & delivery, emergency department, intensive care unit, etc.). Doesn’t matter, we all have to undergo the same required training and then hope we get a job in the area of our dreams after we graduate and pass our licensing exam. The only humans I’d cared for till then were young and tiny. I thought I wanted to work in pediatrics (kids) and I also “knew” I didn’t want work with “old people”. [What a narrow way of thinking, and I can unequivocally say that I’ve changed my mind. I’ve grown. Thank god.]
First of all, working in pediatrics sounds like my nightmare. Sick/ailing children, stressed/exhausted parents and caregivers. People going through their own worst nightmare, and having their lives and feelings in my imperfect hands? That’s like DOUBLE the compassion fatigue. I’m sure it’s incredibly rewarding, and I’m in awe of the folks called to serve the young. Please don’t stop, but also, I can’t do what you do. I’ve grown away from wanting to work with children; I think having a few kids of my own really scratched that itch. I don’t see a future for me in pediatrics. Period.
Secondly, since my first day of my first job as a nurse, I have only ever cared for adults (18 and over). A majority of those adults have been the “older” demographic (by default), and “they” (older adults) have turned out to be my fucking favorite. I don’t mean to say that everyone over a certain age stops being imperfect. Humans are flawed across the age spectrum. But the most wonderful people I’ve met have been on this planet longer than I have and we’ve gotten to share a space learning together. I get to share my nursing wisdom, and they give me pearls of their own. Win/Win!
Here/Now
I find myself at an interesting point on my timeline. Not a crossroads exactly, but an extended period of deep reflection.
What intrigues me? Where do I feel called now? What are my passions? How will I channel my energy?
Aging, dying, fitness.
I’m noodling.
The nursing role in Modern American Healthcare tends to be problem-focused (an illness or injury, symptom management, etc.). Define the problem (diagnose), create a plan, intervene, and reassess if it worked. Once you’re well enough, we discharge you (because insurance won’t pay us to keep caring for you if nothing’s “wrong”). Or, if you’re sick enough to be enrolled in palliative or hospice services, you get care till you die (and a little bit after for the bereaved). I’m not ready to become a death worker (yet). But I am considering what the path forward might look like (as I discuss in “A jar with a heavy lid” - a nod to a Wilco lyric I love).
I can’t continue focusing on a problem (an impending shortage of healthcare workers and caregiver support) and allow myself to get knocked over by recurrent waves of helplessness. I am not helpless. I still believe that a Caregiver Co-Operative is necessary and have not stopped considering its feasibility. But I’ve also found that writing and writing and talking and WRITING about it was… really disheartening. A heavy weight to lift by myself. I was simultaneously writing my way into imagining a solution, but also feeling a sense of… hopelessness… why can’t someone just tell me what to do; why isn’t it getting better faster? … Years is a long time to watch a problem, and wait to see if something will pan out before it gets worse.
So back to now. I’m asking myself: What do I enjoy? What excites me? How do I fill up my cup?
A Side Quest into my Fitness Journey —
I love to exercise. Like, LOVE. I didn’t for most of my life, but I do now. In childhood, I tolerated physical education. I played outside with friends, rode bikes, and skated. I tried exercising a few times — jumping jacks, bicep curls, maybe a push-up — but it didn’t last. In college, we had access to the university gym and I’d tag along with my roommates occasionally. I liked hanging out, using the elliptical, and listening to music. I did not identify as an “exerciser”.
Something happened between Kid 1 and Kid 2. A spark. On a whim, I bought a 7lb kettlebell, popped in the instructional DVD, and I was HOOKED. Squats, sweat, and moving the weight around. I found exercise I liked, and went scampering down a rabbit hole of videos on YouTube. I discovered www.fitnessblender.com (my favorite platform for fitness instruction). About a decade later, I still love to sweat my face off and lift heavy things. I do it for me. Sometimes, I don’t — as I discussed a bit in my piece titled “Who are you?”:
Back to the main trail —
Much of my energy, time, and self has been spent in the nursing profession. The scope of my world is filtered through a bunch of nursey thinking. I’m exploring ways to broaden my scope, widen my lens, remove my filter. I’m figuring out how to take what I’ve learned and share with others. Teach? Develop a co-op? Write? Share stories? Noodling. I love that word. It looks like stagnation and sounds like whimsy — it’s not. Noodling is processing. A quiet energy. Internal reflection. Writing to myself. Pausing. (For this ultra-social extrovert, it’s been an uncomfortable wintering).
And then a spark.
What got me out of bed this middle-of-the-night was thinking about our bodies. Nursing has exposed me to many aging and differently-abled bodies. I’ve witnessed the tremendous amount care we ALL will eventually need. [In kindness to my younger self, I will forgive her ageism and initial deterrence to working with “old people”]. Our bodies (god willing) will age. And then, our bodies will die (hopefully in that order). Someone will be tasked with cleaning our bodies, and wiping our butts. As far as I know, these are facts. Human care is a blind spot for many, and so is healthy activity and fitness. Many of the people I’ve cared for with chronic diseases have spent their lives conditioning for exactly the condition they’re in. So have I.
The changing needs of our bodies across the lifespan can feel unpredictable. Uncomfortable. Undesirable. Like death. Fear of the unknown. Don’t look at it, or you might catch it? Don’t get too close or you might grow old? We’re doing each other a disservice if we continue to hide our very normal human needs behind the door or curtain. Longevity is a gift, not a shameful darkness looming in our later years.
The Media Machine would have you think aging is a flaw. Buff out your scuff marks, plump up your lips, use a filter to hide how very human you are! Deep wrinkles from a generous smile. Silvery strands of hair. Beauty as a life well-lived, not an aisle at the store. These are not flaws — they’re features! The Media Machine wants us captivated and scrolling, butts glued to the cushion, eyes staring unseeing at the glowing screen. Sedentary. So we can eat, drink, and inhale what they’re selling us, then ask our doctors about the new pharmaceutical remedy for (weight-loss, diabetes, heart failure, high blood pressure, cholesterol…). Like the kid in the movie Big Daddy, “I wipe my own ass” — and I’d like to continue doing so for as long as possible.
Physical activity is medicine. Social time is medicine. For our bodies and spirits. Empowerment and embodiment are hard to replicate. I didn’t like to exercise, until I did. Many folks don’t know how their choices impact their health and wellbeing, until they do. Often this discovery comes after being diagnosed with a health problem. Problem-Focused. Until now, I’ve primarily met people at the “problem” stage of their health journey. I think I’d like to start earlier. Butts are a thing we wipe, but they’re also a muscular part of our balance, strength, and endurance. I’ve learned to love exercise. I want to share this medicine with others. I’m continually rediscovering myself, and chipping away at who I’m becoming. I’m grateful for a deepening understanding of aging, illness, ability, and humility in the care of other humans relatively early in adulthood. I’m still learning, and I’m grateful for that, too. While I continue to look years into the future, here and now I’m exploring becoming a Personal Trainer.
“It’s a nonlinear journey” — sage wisdom on a recent podcast.
Much of nursing is caring for people who are un-well. Temporary or chronic illnesses. Bodies deteriorating. Sick care. I feel called to help others prepare to care for others. I also feel called to help others become and stay well. Become active participants in their health journey. Harness their power now, so they can maybe prolong the inevitable a bit longer? Feel good in their own skin and nurture their inner child. Get moving. I don’t know if my generation will “retire” or be “repurposed” when we reach a certain age, but I sure hope I still enjoy energetic movement when I get there. It’s something I’d like to start working on with other people. It feels like a step into the unknown, but also in alignment with my beliefs and values.
Gotta start somewhere, even if it means beginning again, and again.
Take good care.
Love,
Jessie
PS
Here’s a link to Alkaline Trio’s song, Stupid Kid, off their album From Here to Infirmary (the inspiration for the title of this post). They’re from Chicago, and have been a big part of my musical journey since middle/high school!
I like reading your stories! We have a lot of thoughts in common!!! I just started a different exercise journey with strength training. I’ve always been a yoga/pilates kinda gal before but trying something new!