[fake] blood and guts

So I have this fear of needles.

And I've definitely been working on that since like, the dawn of time.
But it is still very apparent in my life.
It's not even the blood, at all, it's the needles! Ask me why that makes sense.
If I didn't receive confirmation after ridiculous confirmation that I am supposed to be a nurse, it would probably have gotten to me by now. But you take it in baby steps, you know?

Well today we started our first IV's, in this mechanical arm that's got GREAT veins. It looks like a real arm, you use real equipment, you are in a lab that feels like a real hospital room...the only difference is that the arm is hard plastic and feels nothing like a real vein, or real skin! But you know, whatever. We take what we can get.

Truth. EVERY DAY.

Well I kind of freaked out. I have been acting all composed and all that crap this entire week, you know, fake it till you make it? Today I freaked out. It began when I inserted the IV and didn't send the catheter in far enough, so fake blood started spurting out all. over. the place. 
I couldn't get it to stop, and my instructor was like,.... "YEAH Kaitlin! You're doing grea--- oh."

I laughed, and everyone else laughed, and it was all fun and games, but inside, I was still freaking out. It kind of reminded me of the time last semester when we were learning to do some kind of irrigation (I won't go into too much detail, because none of you really want to know, trust me) and I put real soap in the IV bag instead of caster soap. My instructor got a good kick out of that.
I am so excited to look back on my little 22-year-old student-nurse self and laugh. I'm glad God has given me the ability to laugh at myself. Even though I still freak out a lot, it helps.

nursing humor at it's...finest?

So I'm gonna keep practicing. A LOT. And I am gonna think happy thoughts, and tell myself a million times over that needles are not that bad. Because they really aren't, right? They are itty-bitty compared to like fifty years ago, when my parents were kids getting shots with these huge honkin' things. Last semester I freaked out about giving shots, and now it doesn't phase me anymore, so IV's can't be that different, right?
Er. Emphasis on the question mark.

So if you see me around, just give me a hug. You don't even have to mention that you read this. Just give me a little encouraging smile and say, "You're doin' great."

 In the meantime, I'll be in the open lab. Sticking needles in things and drinking a lot of gatorade so as to avoid any feeble knees.

On Getting Hit-on Constantly, by 80 year-old men.

Old man #1: "Hey, you date?"

 ---"Yeah, nobody in particular at the moment but I do date.."

"Well... you are great at what you do, and you're cute. If I was 35 years younger, I'd date you."

Old man #2: "Me Too! I'd take you for a ride up the canyon in my Monster Truck, if I still had it," 
(Side note: this man is a pathological liar, and it is extremely entertaining. There is no way of really knowing if he actually did own a monster truck, but he definitely sparred with Chuck Norris and was a millionaire, and also snuck onto a submarine in the War and has broken every bone in his body and slept with over 100,000 women at one point of his life. He also somehow manages to live life with only a left ventricle and one lung, and is on first-name basis with Mitt Romney. So don't you worry about it.)

#1: "Yeah, I'd take you for rides outside just to show you off."
#2: "I would be totally respectful, and I mean I wouldn't rape you or anything, we'd just go for a nice ride up the canyon in my monster truck..."

Things quickly got awkward. Let's move on.

I had a good laugh, and thanks, I really am flattered. In a, when your grandma pinches your cheek and tells you you are adorable, kind of way.

Well driving home was fun too. Got hit on by two extremely attractive guys in the car next to me at a red light. Now, these situations are fun, but let's talk about what happens in my head vs what actually happens:

Exhibit A:

 Except Vice Versa, as I am a female, not Rowan Atkinson. But you get the point.

"Hey! You're cute. What's your name? ...You should text me,
but not while driving.." (People, I was at a red light. There is no shame in texting at a red light. And this text was extremely important. but not important enough to keep me from talking back to these two striking young men)

So, naturally I act cool..
Which translates to,

I act like an idiot.

They ask for my number.
Light turns green.
I "cooly" tell them my number as I drive away, hair blowing in the wind, music turned up..
Which translates to,

nervously mumble-yelling my number in a loud voice as I totally floor it, barely giving them a chance to hear the "eight-oh-one!" (this reaction played out a lot smoother in my head 0.2 seconds before it actually happened)

Smooth move, kait. Smooth. Move. At least it makes for a good story though. (Cue thinking of really smooth things I could have said 5 minutes after it happened)

Afterwards I decide I need another red light so I can finish my important text message, which naturally means that in the first time in 10 months I hit EVERY single light on University Parkway green, which for anyone who has ever lived in Provo will tell you, that is a straight-out Christmas MIRACLE. 

Oh, and I then witnessed a three-car pileup 20 feet in front of me at an intersection.


Good day.


Back to the 80-year olds. It is nice that you wish to date me and show me off,  thank you for the compliment, but tell that to the 21 year olds my age. I mean, I have won the hearts of plenty an 80-year old, but things get a little complicated when we narrow things down to my actual generation. Now this is partly my fault, because I actually really enjoy the single life, perhaps a little too much at times...

...but sometimes you do wonder. Come on fella, you can hurry it up a bit can't you? I'm pretty fine waiting, but you know. I am almost 22, ("oh no, heaven forbid," says delusional provo), so everyone back home thinks that I am going down the cat-lady path. (Which if I do go down that path, I would totally choose goats over cats).

For now, I'll just take the compliments for what they are. Look, sir, I am sorry but I am just here to give you your pills, and there is also kind of a huge age gap. 

Laughter is good for the soul, and these moments somehow never get old for me.  Pun Definitely Intended.

Good Day.

Spunky

Today I was looking through an old 1941 yearbook with one of the residents, and she was asking me to read a few of the notes that people wrote to her, as she had trouble reading the small, curly handwriting. I happily obliged, and began to read aloud from a very long note in this fancy cursive (sad that cursive is such a dying art). Anyway, I begin reading. (For the sake of the story, we'll just call this resident Meg.)

"Dear Meg... I think you're the tops. You are a really swell girl and I've really loved getting to know you.... "

(Do you not love their slang? tops, swell.. in fifty years our kids are going to be rolling their eyes at the weird slang we have adopted in our generation)

"...I was pretty sad when you said you were going steady, not because I didn't think you were capable, but because I always wanted to go steady with you, and it was sad that you were unavailable. I liked you even more than Nancy, even when I was dating her. After a while I realized she was just like everybody else. But you aren't, Meg. You aren't like all the other girls. You are really swell. And I'm not just saying the same old B.S. that people write in yearbooks..."

(yes, they said B.S. back then, too) 

"....I really mean that. And I know a lot of other guys who feel the same. I am really glad that we are friends, even though I'd like to be more than friends. Just remember you can always come to me for anything.... " 

Oh yes, it got pretty spicy. Turns out Meg was quite the man-killer!

I never doubted. I hope that if I get Alzheimer's, I'm the Meg of the place. She always laughs at her own jokes, sneaks food to the dog under the table, and is just spunky.
Then we of course had to look up his picture. And as soon as I pointed at it Meg said,
"Oh HIM? He's ugly!"
That made us all laugh.  He wasn't even that bad looking. She apparently just had a lot of room to be choosey.

Later as we flipped to the pages, next to some random girl's picture, Meg had written a line across the page pointed to her face and one word. "CROOK!"

I love her. I love them all. I love my job. :)

White Knight

So, seeing as I am not living in Kyiv anymore, it is time to jump back to this much-neglected blog. (If you have nothing else to do and wish to read of my adventures, you can find them here.)

Pictures always make everything better. I am already missing this place

Right now I am in London, sitting by myself in the London Airport and eating a lovely breakfast of eggs and salmon and toast with marmalade, in my little corner, in my hat. I must say I feel quite sophisticated. This is not to say that I am, but do I have a feeling London has a way of making even the most uncoordinated creature feel sophisticated. I am really gonna miss this whole independence travel the world adventuring thing.  But that's an entirely different rant. I made a mistake last night, and it happened somewhere in-between Kings Cross and Royal Victoria.

     Here is what you find on the platform when you board the tube. For some reason I am fascinated by the way they phrase things

You see, I went to Kyiv with one carry-on, one large suitcase, and one medium one. I ended up having to throw away the medium one, send the large one home, and have been living out of a teeny tiny carry-on for the past 18 days (Britney, your backpack has SAVED ME, ha) How I have accomplished this downsize, I still do not know. As you can imagine, my little carry-on has gotten significantly heavier since we started out, as I have been picking up souvenirs here and there and everywhere, and after visiting 15 cities and 7 countries, my suitcase is REALLY HEAVY. I'd say almost a good fifty pounds. That may not sound like a lot, but when you throw in a backpack and take into account my marshmallow arms, it is quite a challenge running around to different train stations and airports all night long.
Last night as we were trying to find our hotel, we got a tad bit lost. It got a little tricky pulling around all that luggage. At one point, I was trying to haul my suitcase up a big flight of stairs when a young man going the other way decided to stop and ask if I needed any help. I imagine I looked pretty flustered, which is great because it probably hid the bright red hue that surely hit my cheeks the second he turned around and spoke to me in his lovely british accent (then again, probably not, thank you genetics). I was already half-way up the stairs, and if course my instincts tell me that you can totally do this on your own. So of course I told him thank you very much but I was alright. He asked again throwing in this huge smile. I really think I looked pathetic at this point. "Are you sure?" ---yes, thank you so much! and kept right on swinging and hauling my little 5-ton suitcase up those stony stairs.
A few seconds later I was totally kicking myself. What a nice guy, and why in the world did I turn him down? Not in an, oh, he was really cute, swoon, sort of way, but in a, wow, he was really being kind and I should have let him help me sort of way. Because really, this world is so caught up in the business-woman working women doing everything on her own woman sort of thing. A man opens the door for us, and we tell him, "thanks but I am perfectly able to do that on my own." Then another man doesn't open the door for us, and we start ranting off about how Chivalry is Dead and how men have no respect for women anymore.
Well, what do we expect them to do?
I decided that next time a man offers to help me with something, I will let him and be all the more grateful for it. Yes, I am perfectly capable of doing it on my own, but that is the tried and true system, and it is fabulous! To all you many men out there who aren't afraid to be a gentleman, thank you! I praise you! You are appreciated! Keep it up.
That's my rant for the day.

Now off to board a plane! AMERICA here I come :)