Life Off-Label

Last weekend I made my first trip to a national pharmacy convention and my first visit to New Orleans. Here’s a few highlights…

Since I was checking a bag, it only cost a little more to upgrade to first class on my flight from Oklahoma City to Dallas. I had my first taste of what it’s like to go cut in front if everyone in the security line, board the plane first, sit in the very first row, and not wait six hours to deboard. It was only an hour-long flight, but I still had time to get in a Jack and Coke. I’m an amateur with the first class drinking though. The guy next to me fit in two Baileys on the rocks and the guy across the aisle had two screwdrivers. Also, when I got to New Orleans, my luggage was one of the first ones to come out on the conveyer belt. Basically, the first class experience was the non-stressful opposite version my usual flight experiences in every way, and I wish I could afford to fly that way all the time.

I had a layover at DFW, and since usually when I fly into that airport I go home, I almost walked right to baggage claim before realizing I need to go to another gate. So I had some lunch and chilled for a couple hours at the next gate, only to wind up chilling a few more hours thanks to a delay because of maintenance issues. I know these things happen, and I’m glad they make sure the plane is safe before I board it, but it was really frustrating to sit in the terminal at DFW knowing I could be sight seeing in New Orleans instead. And it was really frustrating how poorly the staff handled it. They had that friendly “sucks to be you” attitude as if we’re at the DMV, except the DMV can get away with it because they’re a monopoly. American Airlines apparently forgot that we have other options the next time we fly. A friend on another airline had something similar happen and she got food vouchers while at the airport and a voucher for reduced fare on a future flight. What did we get? Nothing.

When we finally did board our flight and take off, I had a nice conversation with a pharmacist and his wife while on it. I ran into them again while waiting for a cab, and since our hotels were close we decided to split it. The cab took us to my hotel first, and when I reached for my wallet the pharmacist said he’d cover it. After I graciously thank them his wife smiles and says, “We were students once too.” I’ll make sure to pay that forward someday!

The exposition was massive and I accumulated a nice amount of free samples by the end of the trip. I liked how on the first night they made the atmosphere as stereotypically New Orleans as possible. Girls were walking around throwing Mardi Gras beads at us. People were wearing masks and walking around on stilts. There was a brass band performing some jazzy tunes. It was pretty awesome. I think one of my favorite booths was the guy in a 50s-style soda jerk outfit making Metamucil shakes. They tasted just like a Creamsicle!

I was told, if nothing else, I *had* to try Mothers and Cafe du Monde. So I did. Both had very long lines (because everyone else *had* to try them too), but both were so so worth it. This picture from Cafe du Monde makes me salivate every time I look at it. Oh, and note the obnoxiously excess powdered sugar. If you’re as graceful of an eater as I am, you might want to wear white pants.

Of course, being a nerdy pharmacy student, I had to visit the pharmacy museum. According to the curator, the pharmacy was owned by one of the first licensed pharmacists in the US. That’s pretty old. It’s similar to the one I visited in Guthrie, with a few more cool knickknacks and the largest mortar and pestle I’ve ever seen. Sitting on the floor, it was almost as high as my waist!

Bourbon Street. Ahh Bourbon Street. Okay, the thing is, after living in Austin and spending some uh… quality… time on 6th Street, Bourbon is not as big of a culture shock as it apparently is to other people. In some ways the two are similar. Both are streets with a bunch of bars, some of which are famous for signature drinks. Both are blocked off to motor traffic and smell of various body fluids. Many tourists come to party there and tend to get crazy. And I would feel just as uncomfortable walking alone on either of them. However, Bourbon’s street bands are a nice alternative to the Austin hobos, and though I’m not sure when Bourbon’s bars close (if at all), I know it’s much later than 2am. Like a good tourist, I tried both hand grenades and hurricanes while there, and found both to be wonderful. For the record, I got my hand grenade without ice, because I’m not a sissy.

Funny story about hurricanes in New Orleans. So a couple girls and I thought we would be cute and pose for a picture with the orange peels from our drinks in our mouths. After we take the picture, I set my orange peel down on a plate on the table. Upon inspection, one of the girls didn’t like how she looked in the picture, so we have to take another one. I pick the orange peel back up and put it in my mouth, but I notice it tastes a little funny. After the picture I take it out, and notice the bottom of it is black. No way… did they put a moldy orange in my drink? I look down, and my jaw drops as I realize that the “plate” I set my orange peel on is an ash tray. Yeah…

I actually did attend events at APhA though too. Mostly because my school requires it of me, but it was also an interesting experience to see how things go at a national level. Most people thought the House of Delegates sessions were boring, and I wouldn’t say it’s the most exciting thing I’ve witnessed in my life, but I thought they were interesting because the resolutions passed could ultimately affect national policy. The magnitude of how important those debates on the floor were made me at least appreciate it, even if painting my toenails is just as thrilling.

The weekend ended with an awards ceremony, and I seriously felt like I was at the Oscars. The crowd wasn’t that formal, but the presenters were in their tuxes and dresses, reading off cue cards and posing for pictures while music plays in the background with each award. My school has won a couple of those awards in the past, but didn’t get anything this year. I know it’s silly, but I’m competitive and not getting to partake in that celebration after hearing my school’s name called made me want to do more in my school’s chapter of APhA so we can win something next year. I suppose that’s the point… dangle some shiny award in front of our faces to inspire us to get more involved, and ultimately the communities we help win.

It was a great trip that went by way too fast, and I’m so glad I did it. Sure, I could have studied for an exam all weekend like most of my classmates, but I still passed, and that’s okay with me. At the end of the day, a memorable trip like this is worth much more than a few extra points on an exam anyway.

Last week, we took a horrible exam in pharmacokinetics. I can’t speak for my classmates, but for me that was the worst exam of my life. It wasn’t that we blew it off. I pulled an all-nighter studying, and judging by the amount of sweatpants and hoodies at the exam I don’t think I was the only one. Most of us prepared by reworking homework problems and going over old exams, but when we got to the exam we were blindsided by something longer and more difficult. Some of the problems looked completely new, and when the teacher said we had fifteen minutes left until time was up, I could feel everyone else’s heart skip a beat. Unlike a multiple-choice exam, where you could just try to bubble in B for the answers you don’t finish, we had a short answer exam. So this was the point where we we try to BS the rest of the problems to our best ability and hope for some very generous partial credit. Nobody finished. Well, a couple people got up before he called time, but I assume they just gave up.

After the exam, many of us sat for a bit in the hall, mentally drained and in a slight state of shock. It’s as if we sat in the room and the proctor threw rocks at us for an hour and fifteen minutes straight, and all we could do was sit there and take it until it was over. Some comments included, “There’s about 30 points on that exam that I didn’t even get to.” “I’ll be happy if I get a 50.”  “I’m pretty sure one of the problems is on a homework we haven’t done yet.” And “It would have been nice for them to hand out Vaseline before that.”

After we got our grades back, we found that the average was about a 65%. I don’t have a PhD in statistics, but I assume that’s not an ideal range where the curve should be on a good test. You’d maybe want a few more passing grades, but that could just be me. Needless to say, the majority of my class is very frustrated and worried, because we pretty much only have one more test and a final to make up our grade and pass the class. Some think this exam should be curved without question.

That’s where I don’t agree with some of my classmates. I don’t think a curve is absolutely necessary right now. For starters, 75% of our grade is still up for grabs, so it’s not the end of the world. It’s just a matter of deciding to tackle as much of that 75% as you can to recover from this exam  and pass the class. Though this might be the first time some my classmates are humbled by such a low grade, this isn’t really a new situation for me. In the College of Natural Sciences at my undergrad, a place where all the smart kids who sailed through high school go to feel dumb and lost by the end of the first semester, tests with low averages are fairly common. I was able to get away with terrible study habits and still make A’s in high school, but I had to learn the hard way that it wouldn’t fly at the college level. I would initially feel frustrated, but then I would seek the help I needed, make some adjustments, recover to pass the class, and learn from my mistakes. Now I’m grateful for it, because it wasn’t such a rude awakening when I had my first round of exams in pharmacy school.

Of course, a few times when the average was still too low at the end of the semester they’d curve to our relief, but that’s after they saw us at least try first. I mean, if our teacher curved the exam now, what incentive do we have to study better on the next one if we know that it will also just get curved? You don’t fall off a bike and expect it to pick you up. You pick yourself up. By letting us continue to freak out about our grade, he’s teaching those of us who aren’t used to changing the way we study to recover on our own. Some of my classmates haven’t realized it yet, but I hope they do. I’m just as frustrated as they are, and perhaps some changes do need to be made by the professor to make a more fair exam next time, but to an extent we need to hold ourselves accountable for not meeting his expectations. After all, as pharmacists we’re going to face new challenges that we might not be prepared for, and when that happens you can’t rely on a curve to save you.

When first started working at my hospital, this weird sound over the intercom freaked me out. I didn’t know what it was, and at one point I thought I my mind was hallucinating voices. Then I realized it’s a slightly eerie, but sweet sound of a lady humming to the tune of “lullaby”, and one of my coworkers informed me that they play it every time a baby is delivered in the hospital. I’m used to hearing things like “code blue” over the intercom, but we didn’t have something to announce births like that at the last hospital I worked at. To be fair, that hospital delivers more babies than any other hospital in the country, so if they did something like that the song would pretty much be on a continuous loop.

The nice thing about the song though is that it made me stop and realize that, at that exact moment, it was perhaps the best day of someone’s life. I like to think about excited family members crowding the room, snapping pictures and fighting over who gets to hold the baby next. Pink or blue balloons are bobbing everywhere and the cliche gifts and cards are scattered all around. It makes me smile.

Of course, hospitals aren’t always a place of joy. I can’t always erase from my memory the families waiting outside a room in an ICU, watching someone take the last breaths of their life. Or those waiting outside an OR, wondering what kind of news someone in scrubs will come out to bring. The same day someone brings a beautiful human life in the world, another finds out a loved one is terminally ill. The best day of one person’s life is another person’s worst. That’s how it goes.

Working in a hospital and being around those things all the time can make you a little jaded to it though. Your normal everyday is consumed by these things happening around you all the time, and so often we forget to stop and think about how much it isn’t part of the normal everyday life of those who come through those doors as patients. I believe that compassion can go along way to help someone overcome something, and it starts with appreciating how crazy each and every day at a hospital can be.

I was born in Illinois, and have many fond memories of playing in the snow. Mom would help my sister and I get all bundled up like little marshmallows. We’d go outside to make forts out of the piled up snow from the snow plows, make snow angels, and throw snowballs at each other. Once we were too cold and tired to enjoy it anymore we’d head inside to take all of our snow gear off and find some fresh hot cocoa waiting for us in the kitchen.

Then I moved to Texas. We don’t get snow much down here, so it can be very exciting. I tried to relive the glory days of playing around in it like I did when life was so care-free. I cherished every white Christmas, be it down here or when we went back up north to visit family. I would even start to wonder if I’d rather live up there, and get to have a “real winter” again. But all it took was driving in snow once to appreciate the milder winters of the south.

I know that people up north drive in those conditions all the time. My parents, who grew up in Milwaukee, like to get snobby at southerners who don’t know how to drive in it. But there’s two things about winter driving in the south that non-southerners should know: we didn’t ever learn how to drive in it, and there aren’t enough snow plows to make the roads somewhat manageable. Also, usually the “snow” is really sleet that just makes everything slippery and perfect for running your car off the road. So, when those couple wintry days a year do come, we just shut down our schools and businesses and try to avoid driving in it.

Last year, when I was living in Dallas, pretty much everything shut down for almost a week. It was the week before the Super Bowl, and I liked to joke that Green Bay and Pittsburgh brought the weather with them. My apartment parking lot was so iced over you could play a game of hockey on it. Actually, I had to call in at work (since hospitals are one of the things that can’t shut down) because it was impossible to get out of my garage. The next few days were a scary drive as many of the city roads were still icy, but at least the highways had been somewhat treated and were fairly drivable. I survived, but I never wanted to do it again.

So tonight, as the snow started falling, and my Facebook news feed blew up with everyone’s excitement, I was terrified. I had a few hours to go at work, and knew it would only get worse in that time. I should have just asked to leave early, since I’m still training, but silly me didn’t, and as I walked outside the snow was coming down pretty hard. My car was already covered in about an inch of snow, and the roads didn’t look very promising. Oklahoma is just as good about pre-treating roads as Texas in that they don’t do it at all, so I cautiously started my 20-mile drive home, not going faster than 30mph at any point. Every so often I’d look to the side of the road, and see a four-wheeled reminder of what it looks like to lose the battle with the slick road, but I tried not to let it get to me.

My first challenge came when I tried to go on my usual ramp from 74 to 44. I knew it was going to be tricky, as it is one of those sharply-turning cloverleafs, and nobody had driven on it in a while as there were barely any tire marks. Predictably, I swerved a little and hit the side of the curb on my way around. Somehow, I managed to gain my control back enough to merge onto I-44 though.

Do you ever get that feeling that someone is looking out for you? I get it occasionally, and I definitely felt it right after I merged onto I-44. I was starting to feel a little flustered after losing control once, but then right ahead of me I saw a snow plow merging onto the highway, and a wave of relief rushed over me. The symbol of comfort it provided as I followed it restored my confidence to make it back home, so I continued on.

I had one more interchange from 44 to 35, and I had to do it without the plow ahead of me. Again, I started swerving, but I didn’t hit a curb this time. I slowly made my way down 35, and eventually reached my exit, but the fun wasn’t over yet. I only had a little bit of side road driving left,  but it’s just as terrifying when I realized all the stop lights I’ll have to go through. I’ve found that stopping in this kind of weather should not happen often because it is hard for my car to get going again. I’ll be honest, since there weren’t many cars on the road, I ran a few red lights when I saw nobody was in the vicinity. Hey, it was better than risking my car being stalled in the middle of an intersection. This strategy fared very well, and I made it back to campus, only blocks away from my apartment.

I normally have to make a u-turn to get into my parking lot, but that wasn’t happening, so I had two options. I could come at the parking lot from the other direction, avoiding the u-turn, but involving a lovely drive through a ghetto part of Oklahoma City. Or I could just make a left-turn and park in the visitor lot that I’m not supposed to park in. I’m a suburban-raised girl, and I’m not afraid to admit that the thought of being stuck in a crime-heavy neighborhood made me feel very uncomfortable, so visitor’s lot it is.

The light was green, and an inner part of me cheered because I wouldn’t have to resort to running another red light to make my turn. I let off the gas to make a slower turn into it, I get about halfway through and.. oh no… we aren’t turning anymore… and here comes the curb right ahead of me. BAM! I hit it straight on. BAM! The back side of my car passes over it, too, and my entire car is on the grass. I am twenty feet from my apartment.

Ok, now what? Who do I call first? A tow truck? 911? Of course as luck would have it, my cell phone battery was low. After sitting there for a moment, I put my hazards on, and decided to go into my apartment to charge my phone while I make my phone call. Since I’m on campus, I go with the university police, as they’d be the most likely to respond in a reasonable amount of time. The dispatch lady told me I could stay in my apartment while waiting for the officers to arrive, and she’d call me back. When I went outside to meet them, they said they would help me move my car back onto the road so I could make it into the visitors lot. Of course, if it didn’t work I’d have to call a tow truck, but the two nice officers were able to get my car off the grass, and my car is now safely parked. I emailed my manager about it being parked there, and I’m sure she’ll understand. Once the weather clears I’ll have to take it into the shop to make sure I didn’t do serious damage to the underside of my car, and if I did hope the insurance will cover it, but for now I’m glad to be at my apartment in one piece.

Despite all that, I don’t entirely hate snow. I still love playing in it. Had I not had to work and been snuggled up inside my apartment all day, this rant very likely wouldn’t exist. And of course, you can’t have a “snow day” without snow! But even today, while writing this blog entry, I took a quick break to glance out my window, and the beauty of the pure white blanket over everything is so peaceful that for a moment I forgot what it put me and my car through only a couple of hours ago. I felt care-free again. But even if I don’t hate snow, I’m willing to sacrifice some of those happier moments on a shorter winter if it means I won’t have to worry as much about driving in it.

Each day of week 5 is so different that it seems like it should pan out over a few weeks. Going from 5 minutes of jogging at a time to 8 minutes the next time to 20 minutes right after that is just not me. I’m more of a fan of doing things gradually. I want to push myself, but I have the time to space it out, so there’s no reason to overdo it.

Since I started this before New Year’s, I decided to go back on Weight Watchers as my resolution. It’s a great program to guide you back into consistently eating well, and I’ve been letting the “BLARRGH me hungry must have something greasy STAT” side of my brain make the food choices lately. It doesn’t help that my school has free pizza for lunch pretty much all the time either. I had some success the last time I did WW, and then I went off it and gained most of the weight back. I’m hoping to do even better this time though since I wasn’t really exercising much last time.

I lost 5 pounds the first week, which isn’t as good as it sounds. Ideally, I want to lose two pounds a week tops, because otherwise it means I’m not eating enough or I’m losing muscle mass. I’m pretty sure most of it was water weight though, because I’m eating all my “points” and I’d like to think my workouts are helping me increase muscle mass. But enough about me trying to be humble, let’s be honest… I was pretty ecstatic to lose that much. As long as I don’t make it a habit though, I’ll take it the first week!

I’ve had to cut a couple runs short because the knee pain was slowly creeping back, though still not nearly as bad as it was before. I think it’s mostly due to the increased intensity. The plan is still to keep truckin’, but since I still have about two and a half months until Warrior Dash, I’ll give them a little more rest and devote some time to strength training. After all, it’s not just about running a 5K anyway. I also have to try to complete all the obstacles without looking like a total idiot.

I found a picture today that sums up my training pretty accurately…

No turning back now though. As of about twenty minutes ago I am officially registered for Warrior Dash!

In case you missed it, there’s been a pretty big stir lately when the news broke out that the Susan G. Komen foundation decided to no longer provide grants to Planned Parenthood to help fund breast cancer screenings. Komen claims it’s due to a policy that prohibits funding for organizations under congressional investigation, and technically Planned Parenthood falls into that category.

Now, I haven’t been much of a supporter of Komen since I saw a story about them using a million dollars of donor money to sue other charities. But that’s not what most people are so mad about right now. Many people are angry that such a large, influential organization would choose to alienate the many women who’ve relied on Planned Parenthood to have access to breast exams when they couldn’t turn elsewhere. According to the New York Times article I linked to above, past Komen funding has helped pay for breast screenings for at least 170,000 women, some of which did detect cancer in time to save their lives. Early detection is so so important, but it also costs money, and Planned Parenthood at least gives women with limited finances that option to still get early and regular screenings.

Many are also frustrated because they believe that the “congressional investigation” is merely an example of Republican congressmen putting a political agenda over womens’ health. After all, it’s no secret that Republicans lean in the pro-life direction and that many of them think Planned Parenthood is the scum of the earth.

I’m not exactly a fan of abortions myself. I mean… I don’t think anyone really is. Though I understand why people identify with the pro-life side of the fence, many who aren’t so strictly pro-life still realize it’s a complex issue and don’t sit there thinking, “Golly, you know what would make the world a better place? More abortions!” I won’t go into the details of my personal beliefs, but I will say that I’m not one of those who thinks Planned Parenthood is evil, and I think that if more people knew of the other services Planned Parenthood provides, good services that far outnumber the abortions, they wouldn’t think it was so evil either. Because I bet they didn’t know that some services, such as cheap access to birth control and sexual education programs, potentially prevent unwanted pregnancies, and therefore potentially prevent abortions. They also provide pre-natal care for those who are pregnant, and annual checkups for those who aren’t. Though I’ve been blessed with good health insurance either through my parents or my job, I know people who weren’t always so fortunate, and are grateful to Planned Parenthood for being an option to still have access to the care and checkups they needed when they couldn’t afford it elsewhere.

At a fundamental level, I believe everyone should have access to the healthcare they need, especially when it comes to preventative screenings, without worrying about how much it will cost. Of course, we all know it’s a lot easier said than done when it comes to figuring out how to implement it because it’s always going to cost someone, and noone wants to accept that burden. But even if we don’t have the solution to our healthcare problems now, we at least have organizations like Planned Parenthood, which through individual donations and grants through larger charities like Komen can help those who don’t have the financial means to currently seek certain treatment or screenings elsewhere. You never know when you might end up in that situation, and I know I’m glad there’s still that option there if I ever need it. A pro-life stance doesn’t have to only be taken in context with abortions, and when you broaden the scope to include people who’ve already been born, helping fund cancer screenings for those who can’t afford it is about as pro-life as it gets.

After working for years at a various positions in various grocery stores, I was pretty confident that I would not like retail pharmacy. I assumed it would be a glorified version of those crappy grocery jobs with the added bonus of dealing with insurance companies, and after putting in over 50 IPPE hours at a couple retail sites between this and last semester, I realized my assumption wasn’t that far off. I haven’t even experienced one of the notorious big chains yet, as I’ve successfully been able to avoid being matched up with one, but the stress of busy, yet adequately staffed independent retail was enough for me.

My theory that hospital pharmacy is better than retail pharmacy has also been supported by my recent start of an internship at a hospital here in Oklahoma. It’s quite a bit smaller than my last hospital, and this one is faith-based whereas the last one was the county hospital for a large city, but as far as pharmacy goes things are pretty much the same. I have similar responsibilities, they use similar drugs on their formulary, the hospital uses the same program for its electronic medical records, the nurses still struggle with finding things they already have, the pharmacists are just as great to work with, and it’s better than retail. I just finished an 8-hour shift and feel much less stressed than I have after 4-hour shifts at my site visits.

It’s not that hospital doesn’t have any stress, but it’s different. Though there are times where you constantly have things to do, and sometimes you are pulled in several different directions with a lot of STAT orders, at some point the intensity of the shift slows down and you get to relax a bit. Not so much with retail. And as much as I used to complain about dealing with nurses who lose medicine all the time, it is SO much better than dealing with an ignorant person who can’t understand anything. At least when a nurse calls because she’s missing something, she knows a lot more about the medication that is missing than “oh I dunno it’s the little green pill”. In retail, that’s a common description for a medicine someone is calling to get refilled, and I’m supposed to take that information and decipher which one it is among their list of 15 or so prescriptions. Do they by any chance know what it’s used for? What letter does it start with? Nope. It’s just that little green pill. Additionally, in a hospital I don’t have to deal with insurance, I don’t have to try to translate the chicken scratch on a hand-written prescription, and I don’t have to sit on hold with Walgreens for 33 minutes trying to get a prescription transferred from them (yes that really happened… I had the time to count).

So yeah, I was about 85% sure that I want to work in a hospital after I graduate, but now that’s been promoted to 95%. I have a site visit at an anticoagulation clinic later this semester, and that sounds like something that could be really interesting, so a tiny part of me is still remaining open to the idea of something else winning my heart over. But I can guarantee one thing… it won’t be retail.

In November, I noticed that Warrior Dash is coming back to the Dallas area in April. I knew some friends who have done it, and I decided I want to do it, too. There was only one problem: I haven’t run seriously since about 8th grade, and was nowhere near prepared to do a 5K, which is part of the stipulation of completing the Warrior Dash. So, since I had plenty of time, I decided to try out the Couch to 5K program as a way of easing myself back into running.

The first week was a wake-up call to how out of shape I was. I only had to run in 60 second intervals, after which I would walk for 60 seconds, for 20 minutes total. That, yes that, left me pretty out of breath and exhausted.

By week 3, I could tell my endurance was getting better. Running for three minute segments didn’t seem too hard at all. I noticed some other benefits, too. I’ve started losing some of those stubborn last pounds I could never seem to get rid of, which is especially impressive considering how much I ate over Thanksgiving. It’s also been a GREAT way to let off some steam during finals week. Wait a second… am I actually enjoying cardio? The only downfall is that I’m prone to tendonitis around my knees, which is why I didn’t run much before, and it started flaring up, but I decided to tough it out. I iced my knees after workouts and looked into more stretches to do, and that seemed to help some.

Week 4 was a bit of a bigger leap. I ran five minutes at a time and was up to two miles of walking and running total. It’s almost 2/3 of a 5K, but I realized I still have a long way to go. I bought new shoes, and they are pretty amazing. There is such a huge difference in the way it feels when I run with them, and the knee pain has gone down dramatically.

I had a but of a hiatus the past couple of weeks, but it’s not entirely due to my laziness. I’ve made two trips up to Wisconsin (one, unfortunately, was unexpected for my grandmother’s funeral). I brought my running shoes and some gym clothes along just in case one of the hotels had an exercise room, but we spent so much time visiting with family that it would be pretty late by the time we got back, and I’m not dedicated enough to go running when it’s midnight and I’m feeling exhausted.

I got back to going to the gym when we got back to Texas this week, and I know once I get back to Oklahoma and settle into a routine again I should be more consistent with my running. Warrior Dash is still three months away, so I’m not panicking. I was good over Christmas, but family food (especially my aunt’s awesome peanut brittle) and catching up with old friends at various non-healthy restaurants have left me feeling a little heavier after this winter break. Hopefully the continued running will help shed some of that, and maybe in a few weeks I can update with some better progress!

When I was in undergrad, I couldn’t wait to get done with school and just work full time. After all… once you clock out, you’re done. No exams to study for, or homework to remember to do, or essays to put off until the last minute. Then when I was working full-time, especially once I found out I was accepted to pharmacy school, I couldn’t wait to be a student again. No more lazy coworkers that aren’t held accountable for it. Gone are the stressful moments of being in the middle of a tug-of-war with different people or tasks. I can study on my own schedule and set the rules on when I want to take a break.

Of course… then exams came around, and I wanted to just work again. At least when I was working I had a nice sleep schedule. I easily spend more than 40 hours a week between going to class, site visits, and studying. At work, you’re only evaluated on your performance once a year, and it’s pretty easy to pass that. It was also nice having an income instead of piling student loan debt.

Then I did my first day-long site visit (aka interning at a pharmacy for free). Until now, I had done them in spurts of a few hours at a time. I also made the mistake of doing this site visit on the first (open) day of the year. Oh boy. Since I didn’t ever deal with insurance at the hospital, the first day of the year didn’t have much of an impact on my workflow. I expected to be busy with people who didn’t get things taken care of over the holidays, but I was in for a rude awakening. Scripts were piling up and the phone would not. Stop. Ringing. After 9 hours of it, I was done. Take me back to the classroom please!

Then again, I never saw the retail part of the “working” grass as very green to begin with.

As sad as I want to be, a part of me can be nothing but happy. Yes, partly because I believe you’re going to a better place. But mostly because you’re suffering is over. I saw how much Alzheimer’s took away from you over the past few years, and it was that hardest thing I’ve had to witness. For the last year we didn’t get to bake with you, go bowling with you, get spoiled by you, or laugh with you. We sat in a room where we pretended it was okay to stare at each other and make small talk like we’re strangers, when deep inside the both of us are just screaming at nature to put things back to normal.

I’ll always treasure certain memories of you, like spending part of my summer with you to go to those classes at College for Kids and the Audubon Center, feeling fancy while eating lunch on top of the Hyatt hotel, repeated trips to the zoo and museum that never got old, those awesome Space Jam pajamas you sewed for me, fireworks over Lake Michigan, all of the free baking lessons you gave me over the years, and so many more. Your stories of milking cows, teaching in a one-room school, and eating lard sandwiches during the depression remind me just how spoiled I am. I also love how good of a friend you were to my other grandma. You helped her get her American citizenship, and after my Opa died you taught her how to drive so she could get her drivers’ license. You and my other grandma grew up with much more adversity than I’ll ever have to, in times where society said women were supposed to be weak, and your strength throughout is what inspired me to be strong as a woman.

I’m positive I’ll never try a better recipe for oatmeal chocolate chip cookies as long as I live. Many people know those cookies because of how delicious they are, but I’ll always remember them for sentimental reasons. The first thing I used to do when I came to your house, after you greeted me with a big hug, was run into the kitchen and snatch a cookie out of the cookie jar. There was nothing better to wake up to in the morning than the smell of them baking in the oven, and I think that smell is part of what made the house so warm and welcoming.  When we were visiting you at Bay Point, going to that familiar cookie jar and biting into a cookie is one of the things that still gave me that warm feeling again.

Christmas wasn’t the same without you this year. We had such a nice routine… spend the day baking and preparing everything for the feast that would be dinner later, attend the beautiful mass at Our Lady of Good Hope, tear through the stockings after mass, and get the visit from Santa. Carrie made a beautiful scrapbook that shows almost 25 years of the whole family gathering at that house, and I think that’s a testament to the value of family that you and grandpa have instilled in each of us. It was a given, we went to grandma’s for Christmas, but it wasn’t ever a chore. It was something I looked forward to all year. As much as I miss you though, I know that Christmas in heaven with grandpa sounds a lot more appealing than Christmas here with Alzheimer’s, and I don’t blame you for choosing the former. Love you!