I attended a medicine conference at the University this past week.  Two days of information and learning.  I loved it.  Some of it was just interesting, transgenderism and cystic fibrosis, some of it left me in awe, liver dialysis post Tylenol overdose, and some of it was staggering, the link between oral care and hospital acquired non vented pneumonia.  The best session was all about central lines which is what we do in our department.  I feel energized with new knowledge and a desire to do better.  We even found new products to make our patients' lives better. 

The big guy and I leave for holidays next Saturday which I'm looking forward to.  Two weeks without an alarm clock.  I love my patients but need a break to recharge my batteries.  There will be mountains and ocean and waterfalls.  Spending time outside always make me feel better.  If I could I would start IVs outside in our healing garden.  Now that would be nice.

Katie turns twenty-three on Tuesday.  It's hard to believe sometimes.  She seems to be calmer on the new medication although she still gets anxious, the anxiety doesn't last as long.  Last week at Fort Edmonton she wanted to go on the train but as we were waiting, a group of woman and babies came to where we were sitting and got to close and loud for Katie.  One woman in particular was very close and loud.  I could feel the energy change and I know how Katie feels when that happens.  It was too much and she started slapping herself and crying.  We left, walking back to the main gate and she managed to calm down.  She also had different staff that day which makes it harder for her.  A very nice man but not her regular staff. 


It's a gray day here.  Supposed to rain which I hope it does.  We've had the driest spring in fifty years here and are badly in need of rain.  Time for laundry and cooking and cleaning, which strangely enough I enjoy.  Take care people.

I've felt like an outsider my whole life.  I don't fit in, not in my family, not with my peers, not anywhere it seems.  I do fit in with the big guy though.  He's an outsider too. 

When I was at Shirley's funeral on Monday I felt like an outsider again.  Listening to the eulogies I remembered the space between us that eventually became a chasm.  Shirley was Chinese;  her parents were refugees who came to Canada for a better life for their children.  They operated a dry cleaning business and the family lived in an apartment above the dry cleaning store.  Eleven people lived in that apartment.  Her parents spoke Chinese.  I remember one day telling Shirley how much my middle daughter hated me signing to Katie and how she refused to learn sign language.  Shirley was shocked.  I asked if she minded when her parents spoke Chinese to her in public when she was a kid and she said she hated it, but that it was different.  It wasn't different.  Kids don't want to be different.  They don't want to be set apart.  They want to belong.

Shirley belonged.  She was outgoing, smart and sociable.  She had a wide group of friends and was involved in everything.  She was also hard working, organized and very stubborn.  I was envious of her life.  I looked through my window at the constant stream of parents and children coming and going into her house and felt like an outsider again.  Shirley never made me feel like that, it was me.

As my marriage fell apart and my children went to hell in a hand basket, Shirley listened.   She didn't tell me what to do, she just listened. We didn't agree on child rearing but we respected each others ways. 

When we sold our house almost four years ago I kind of let go of everything, not intentionally but I did.  Maybe I didn't want the reminders.  That house was my home for twenty years, longer than I had lived anywhere else.  It's where my kids grew up.  I poured myself into that house and garden for years and then strangers bought the house and I was out.  I didn't like going back to visit neighbors because the new owners let my garden go to hell, which is no reason to not visit but it's the truth.

And then just over a year ago Shirley came back into my life again at the Cross.  She was different though.  We were more honest with each other.  I told her how envious I was of her life and she just laughed.  She was still stubborn but softer too.  She finally came up against something that was bigger and more resolute than she was.  Death was coming for her and would not take no for an answer.  Our conversations were sometimes like the old days and sometimes about life and death, always honest though.

Being at her funeral dredged up all these old feelings of being an outsider again.  I'm guessing a large portion of the world's population feels like an outsider at any given moment.  But I have only my own head to live in.  I've spent this past week thinking about my life.  I'm not very sociable and I used to blame it on my ex-husband or Katie but to be honest, I don't think I'm very sociable.  I enjoy spending time with people but only for short periods of time and then I need time alone.  At work I am very sociable as a nurse.  I love my patients and most of my co-workers and then I need to withdraw into solitude again to recharge my batteries.  But I need both.  I enjoy making others laugh and caring for my patients but I need time alone.  The big guy understands that. 

So here I am, still striving to understand and accept myself.  It is a lifelong process I'm thinking, at least for me.