Take A Break Before You Break

In my account sits four "drafts" of blogs I have started over the past few years now, but before I finish one, or all, I need to post something fresh and relevant to what we as sonographers are facing during this pandemic of 2020. I will share very personal details and hope you have the patience to find the "gold nuggets" amongst the mire.

The past couple of work years have been the same, over and over, with occasional highlights that once brightened my workday and made it all worthwhile. Usually I would write about such moments; they kept me going. Why didn't I? I lost the ability to write. It was gone. I could not find the words to form a sentence to convey a thought. Just to think of a title was virtually impossible. Why? Medication. Prescribed medication, at the request of my significant other, but it erased all creativity from my being. I could not even begin. I was blank, just as the pages of this blog remained blank; for years. That is a closed chapter now and there is no need to dive into the details of the struggles and battles. In the end, I emerged ME AGAIN. I feel. I can create. I can express. I no longer need the medications he wanted me to take so he could control every aspect of my being. I am free to be me and it feels good.

But with all this feeling back, I also feel more stress and anxiety, and during this pandemic it has gotten a bit intense for me. Work became a daily struggle for me. I am grateful to have work, a paycheck, and means to continue paying all our bills, but every day being exposed to individual after individual and some with coughs or other symptoms, but we are told we must scan them anyway; anxiety. Wearing a mask has become as much of our uniforms as wearing our work badge in order to have work privileges; it is a must. And I am glad, but I hate wearing the damn thing. Given the choice though; I would wear it: so I smile and proceed to cover my smile as I pull the bands over my ears and scan another stranger again and again; exposed to everything and everyone they have been exposed to. Do they even realize they are also being exposed to very patient I have come in contact with now too? I doubt it. Most don't even wear masks and our practice won't provide them with one. If they do have one, they usually pull it half off their face or they ask if they can remove it completely. I try as sweetly as possible to let them know that if they wish to have their scan then they need to keep their mask on, just as I do. I have never been so irritated and rushed while I scan as I have during these strange times. I am usually talking, sharing, explaining, listening and making their ultrasound an experience to remember fondly. Now,  "limit your exposure" echoes in my head over and over and I get what is absolutely necessary, then exit the room as quickly as possible. I used to enjoy accompanying the physician during his consult. Now I wait outside the room. I hate myself for this. I miss talking. I miss hearing my patients' stories. I miss connecting. I miss the joy my job used to bring me. My soul is starved.

I needed a break. I was burning out. My coworkers and physicians saw me struggling and getting worse as the weeks passed. They voiced their concerns. I reached out to the counseling services work offered. I also reached out to my personal counselor more frequently. I was desperate; desperate for a reason to keep putting that damn mask on, desperate for a reason to deal with patients who act as though there is no pandemic whatsoever. I listened to the counselors. I did the work. "Acceptance". We cannot change this reality, we can only accept it and do our best. For about two weeks I did my damndest. I controlled what I could control to protect myself and I focused on gratitude for still having a job and money to survive. I tried to "shift"; DAILY. I gave it my best. But even after two weeks, I was defeated. I started feeling angry that a patient would have the nerve to ask if they could remove their mask. I found myself becoming resentful that the patients were even showing up for their appointments. How dare they, don't they know the risks?!? In the midst of this I felt GUILT. I was not dealing with dying patients. I was not on the frontlines having actual COVID patients to tend to; I am working on 'easy street', so how dare I feel these feelings of resentment and angst? How dare I! But I did. My reality was very real and very exhausting...to me.

I share this in humility and with the hope that if you struggle with such feelings, you know that you are not alone. I tried, really tried, not to dwell on these feelings, but the more we would talk about the pandemic at work, and we talked about it constantly, the worse the feelings became. I needed to BREATHE.

Breathe. Take a break and breathe. So I did. I had to think of my own well being. I was on the verge of breaking and it terrified me to even think what that might actually look like. In this line of work, we have to be aware, we have to be present, we cannot miss something, we cannot make a mistake, we have a job that requires perfection and AWARENESS. I couldn't risk making a mistake, no matter how small. I had a pending elective surgery - now was the "best time". I felt guilty leaving my coworkers to tend to the same amount of patients without me, but I was soon going to become useless or worse; detrimental. So I took three weeks to breathe. I have one more day before returning to work and feel like a new person. I have only worn a mask three times since I left for surgery and that was for the testing site for my COVID-19 test, the day of surgery, and to go to the post office the other day. It has been nice to "breath" - literally. I have not set an alarm and I have relaxed; which were doctor's orders for the first two weeks, then ME TIME started as I settled into this new routine of being home and accomplishing things that made me happy. I got home projects started and some finished, I started to write again, I sat and did puzzels with my boyfriend, and I enjoyed every moment of feeling safe, feeling calm, feeling free, and being able to breath. I needed this time to learn what I was struggling to do while working and was unable; ACCEPT. During this break I came to terms with the fact that the  pandemic is what it is; no matter what I do or wish, it is still our reality and quite possibly a constant variable we will always have to navigate. This might be the new way we live our lives and I can not continuously live in fear, so accept. Accept that work is different now. Accept that daily routines have changed. Accept that wearing a mask is nearly as essential as wearing shoes. Accept that people will handle it differently, and that is okay. Accept that it is killing thousands, a 1,000 here in the US now. Accept it, because I can not change it, but I can adapt. If in Bird Box they could live years without ever seeing sunlight, and that became their way of life, I can do this.We can do this. I also realized that I have God on my side and He will never leave me nor forsake me. That thought brought me peace. And I accepted that. I needed time to breath, to think, to process so that I could learn to accept. This is reality. I go back to work now. I will wear my mask, gladly, and I will be grateful for every patient I get to be of service to. I accept my role and I trust that I am protected by higher powers, and in Him I trust. I will still have anxiety, and that is okay, I can accept that. It is warranted, but it does not have to take control of me. I accept me.

So tomorrow I will be a better (rested) version of myself. I will be do my best to navigate this unknown territory of COVID-19 and I will strive to find golden moments (gold nuggets) in what often feels like filth, muck and mire. I accept my role. Through my mask, I will smile and try to once again allow my heart to speak to other hearts and hopefully feel that connection with my patients that I have missed. We are not alone in this pandemic and they could be just as apprehensive as I am - maybe I can ease their angst in some way.

I learned the hard way; to bend before I break, and if I feel I am going to break, and "bending" means taking a "break", then a break I shall have. If we don't care for ourselves first we can not care for others to the best of our abilities. Self care is vital. I hope that in this new space of  "acceptance" I will have a better handle of my role as a sonographer, a medical professional, a coworker, as well as friend, mother, daughter, and partner.

May you know your limits and care for yourself. Bend before you break; whatever that "bending" means, you need it and deserve it. Take a breather, take a break, take care of you so that you can take care of others. 

Random...No Such Thing!

Random? TOTALLY RANDOM!

This post...not life's circumstances.

* (Disclaimer...this is me at my weakest, not some inspiring story of bravery)

My life at the moment is in SERIOUS transition...a MAJOR INTERSECTION, not even close to a crossroads, but multiple highways crisscrossing: a congestion filled intersection, traffic lights are out, and no one is directing traffic. Which road to take, where to turn...where to live, when to pack? (such changes are extremely stressful for my personality type...I thrive on organization and preparedness) None of which I seem to posses at the moment. It is all a blur and each day, the only peace I find is at work, doing what I love best, and interacting with my patients and my coworkers. But even this week, I could not seem to find escape at work.

The first day of my work week I didn't feel my usually anticipation and eagerness. It was absent and so was I...mentally. I came in and instantly fell apart, unable to function. Life had me far too overwhelmed, and I was ready to ask my boss for a personal day, go home, crawl into bed, and fall fast asleep so I didn't have to think or feel. One of my angels, shut the door to the exam room, let me cry my heart out, and then said, "Steph, you can get through today...just get through your first exam, it will be tough, I know, blame your red eyes on allergies, try your best, I know it won't be easy by any means, but then get the next patient, and let this be your escape. Get lost in work today. Stop thinking and BE HERE for your patients...it will help and by the third one you won't even be thinking about what you were crying about...you can deal with all of that later. ESCAPE into what you love..."

She was right!!!After an entire box of tissues, attempting to reapply my makeup three times, finally giving up, I listened, put on my big girl pants, and called my first patient of the day. I survived. Barely at first, but by lunch time and deciding to give up any and all attempts at keeping my makeup intact, it started to feel more like a normal work day.

ONE DAY AT A TIME. Mid week my special angel friend gave me a very special gift: a magnet that now hangs on my fridge and reads:
"Courage does not always roar.
Sometimes courage is the quiet voice at the end of the day saying,
"I will try again tomorrow."

TODAY, my world was lite so bright that my chest actually hurt because my heart was so filled with pure enjoyment of THE PRESENT MOMENT and the innocence of a sweet child. I was lost in time. And I didn't want it to end. From the moment I called her mommy's name from the waiting room, she looked up at me with her big brown eyes and immediately started to tell me about the jpretty dress she picked out and her favorite Arial Purse, and her baby sisters inside of mommy's tummy. I was captivated instantly. During the scan she wanted to sit next to mommy on the exam bed, and instead of laying back into her mother's arms and cuddling, she sat straight up, placed her little warm hand on my wrist and held onto me gently as we scanned...together. She talked about her daddy not being home because he was work, and about school and her friends, and that one day her sisters would be going to school too. At only three years of age, she had more to share with me than most of my patients combined from an entire day. Her voice melted my soul. I was lost...time couldn't stand still long enough to satisfy my heart. I wanted these moments with her to LAST. Strange...I know. This little girl was taking all my the hurt and confusion away...gently and softly...sent to me as an angel at exactly the right time. I didn't want to finish, but we were done scanning and she had to get down. As I sat at the computer to complete the report for the doctor before his consult, who came to my side? My little old angel, asking, "Can I sit with you?" OF COURSE! I picked her petite little girlie self up and placed her in my lap, just as I used to do with my own baby girl when she was little. She sat contently in my lap as I typed everything out, and we talked some more...my heart filling with appreciation for the sweetness she freely gave to me. Her mother and grandmother were amazed...telling me she has never acted like this before. This was a new experience for them to witness. I was not surprised though, because I knew it was not by chance that she was in my world at that moment. I needed her and God knew that.

The doctor came in and I quietly asked the grandmother if I could take Kennedy out of the room to pick out stickers. Yes. We spent the next 10 minutes cuddled in a desk chair, long after she picked her stickers. She told me all about her friends, and about Jaden who splashed her while they were feeding ducks and how her daddy was having a birthday soon and he was turning 29. I hung on every word she said...listening with all of my heart and soul. I asked if she liked tea parties and she proceeded to tell me that she loves tea parties and even Mommy and Daddy come to her tea parties. Her head was tucked under my chin and her soft brown curls touched my skin causing EVERYTHING in my world STOP...allowing me to breathe.

When it came time to say goodbye, she hugged me tight, and then hung onto my legs. She attempted to explain that it was now time for her to go home and she had to leave me now, but she wanted to stay. We said goodbye, and then she came running back, held her arms open wide, and I knelt down to wrap her in my arms, she squeezed so tightly, I wished I could STAY right there forever. If I had to choose a last moment on earth...that could have been it!!! Her little arms wrapped around my neck and she kissed my cheek...saying every so sweetly, "Thank you for coming." (Everyone around smiled and laughed...she had been the one who came to see us...but her perception was that of pure, innocent gratitude, as though we had come to SEE HER!)

I ached inside. I went directly to the physician's office, closed the door, held my chest for the pressure was overwhelming, and I cried. I am privileged to work with a wonderful group of physicians, but the one I was assigned to today, has been an amazing blessing in my life. We can cry in front of him, for he has shared his own tears with us. He understood. He knew just how very precious those shared moments with a three year old angel meant to me. Then he showed me a photo of one of his favorite moments when he was holding his three old son in his arms, who is now 19 years old.

Fleeting, they are fleeting moments, BUT TODAY, I stopped in the middle of the insane intersection of my crazy life to APPRECIATE the gentleness of an innocent soul. And, her mother allowed it...Thank you, for that! We allow life to take over, worry invades, and stress robs us of life's enjoyments. Worry is essentially interest paid on a debt that isn't due yet. God brought Kennedy to me today...and she filled my heart with so much love that all the holes and aches that I was focusing on, vanished. I gained a new perspective. While wrapped in the loving arms of a three old stranger today; I found ME.

Update! Chapters Continue...

Just an update...before the season of writing commences!

I read my last post and it was a beautiful reminder to me that our life is created from our thoughts. Our thoughts do become our reality. Life is beautiful...stay aware and be grateful for every moment, ALL moments. There are NO insignificant moments in one's life.

My career isn't easy, but the happy moments, even though they do not out weigh the tough moments in quantity, they certainly out weigh in emotional reward. It is made profoundly clear to me that every event, no matter the severity or the ease, it was MEANT to occur, and it becomes a blessing.

The "chapters" continue in my life story and the main characters remain. I still have my dream job, even though there are daily obstacles, it certainly is rewarding and I am very grateful. My daughter is growing up so fast and I am very blessed to be a daily witness to her unfolding beauty and talent. The man God made me for remains by my side and we have come a long way...together. The unpacking of years of baggage has been interesting and his patience and insight is unbelievable. I am filled with gratitude. It is a privilege offered to few, but I have the blessing of living in the same town as my parents. I see them frequently and hugging my father is a moment I savor. I do realize that when those moments are no long available, I will be even more grateful for these times.

Within the current chapter...I am typically exhausted. Sleep is a treasure, of which I indulge myself in the pleasure of enjoying on weekends. During the week I push and push, sometimes barely sustaining, but it is worth all the effort and I cherish my weekend rest and accomplishments. I have nearly a year's worth of inspiring and devastating stories to share...but each one carries a blessing.

My desire remains; may those who read this blog be reminded that we are privileged with existence here in this universe to experience growth, joy, and love, and such discoveries occur most often through service to others. Unselfish giving of one's self through loving care of humanity is the truest form of experiencing the grandiose of life...everyone benefits, everyone is blessed, everyone is offered the opportunity for gratitude. It is the spirit of gratitude that begins the shift in one's perception of the world around them. Since our thoughts create our reality, doesn't it make perfect sense to carry thoughts of gratitude? Then our life experiences only become better and better!

Blessings to each of you,
Stephanie

After the Rain.

My "New Chapter" began nearly 9 months ago, and I am not exactly sure where the time has gone, other than it got carried away in the whirlwind that has become my very hectic, yet very happy life.

Little did I know, on that flight to the Keys, that far more than a new chapter was beginning, but the novel I had been wishfully living, was ending and an entire new story was about to begin. A new chapter! I am in the grand beginning chapters of a whole new book. Often the best reads are the novels that leave you angry when you have finally read the last page, because the ending was not expected, not quite perfect, and often far from happy, which makes you long for the sequel. A writer's success... This was my ending and I was beyond, angry! There had to be a sequel, had to be!

My last travel assignment had ended, abruptly, on a Friday afternoon. I had no choice other than to drive the 23 hours from Boston back to Florida, alone, the following morning. I made it home, then boarded a plane in Orlando, headed to The Keys. My daughter, boyfriend of 5 years, his kids, and grand kids, were on family vacation and I was joining them.

There were plenty of empty seats and I was exhausted. Perfect. I picked an entire row of empty seats so I could stretch out and rest. In search of the best napping spot, I noticed a pilot in an isle seat, I smiled, and jokingly said, "Aren't you in the wrong seat? You're seat is in the very front of the plane, Sir." He smiled. Once I was comfortably seated I heard a voice asking me if he could sit next to me. I believe some people are meant to cross our path, and this moment was one of them. This was the perfect opportunity to address my fears of flying, and with a seasoned pilot. We discussed the silliness of most fears. Then he kindly helped me recognize that most fears are created in one's head and can be resolved by changing those thoughts. His words started to change; they no longer seemed related to my flying fears, but about life. "Life is what you make of it." He shared his and his wife's beautiful love story. Then he spoke as though he was passing an important message along specifically for me. "You have been given a life to live, a daughter to raise, you are smart, you deserve to be happy, you will never find your highest potential of happiness if you settle; if you so much as settle for anything; love, career, dreams. It is up to you to make your life the way you want it to be. Choose to make it the best life possible! NEVER settle! You deserve to be happy." I am not sure if he was human or an angel, but I know one thing for certain, he was sent to guide me in preparation for the soon approaching ending and to help me believe in a perfect sequel, in a happy story.

I returned back from the Keys; single, jobless, and homeless,.and almost penniless. Regardless, I had one goal in mind; BE HAPPY and NEVER SETTLE. It was rough, but I had faith. I trusted. One of my dearest friends kept telling my the ol' cliche', "Everything happens for a reason." I knew, without a doubt, that was exactly what was happening; but even so, the future was unknown and I was forced to believe in my true desires and to settle for nothing less than what I knew I wanted.

Life was about to shift and I needed to get ready! Rainbows don't happen without a storm...and God knows, I had been through one hell-of-a-storm. My rainbow showed up!!!I have the job I wanted from that very first day when I applied for ultrasound school. I work in Maternal Fetal Medicine permanently, I see my daughter every day, I am blessed to have a house, my own home, and I don't live out of a suitcase anymore; I am very happy in my career and find reasons each day to feel gratitude. Six months ago someone else crossed my path for a very special reason and I now find myself in the most incredible, healthy, supportive, loving relationship, with a man I know God made for me. All aspects of my life have come together beautifully, but not until I was willing to let go of all that I was holding onto so desperately. It is strange how the words from a total stranger on my flight to The Keys were similar to words of wisdom I had heard over the years from friends and from family, but somehow, it hit home; this man knew nothing about me or the novel I had been living. He helped me find the courage to let go and move on! I survived the storm, and after the rain I have found my life to be all that I've intended it to be. I am at peace. I am happy. My career is one of service to others...I am fulfilled. My days are truly blessed.

This Seat is Yours

Here it is nearly two months later, yet every Sunday I wanted to sit here and write. The BLOCKER: I felt like every story that came to mind made me sound like some heroine or "good deed doer" and I never wanted this to be a place of 'self-praise.' So, let me share with you praise of others; the people of the airways...my encounters 30,000 feet above our Earth, stuck in a massive jet that suddenly feels like tin can, as I battle every claustrophobic moment with a prayer.

"This Seat is Yours"

In the past couple of months I have been on numerous flights and the observation I have made is that somehow my seats are "picked" for me. I fly Southwest, which does not assign seating, and I have discovered that I am drawn to a seat and the person I am seated next to is "meant to be" for me in that exact moment of time. Out of all the seats, all the people, all the possibilities, they each have filled a very important part of me, of who I am, and who I am continuing to become.

Flight One:
Walking down the narrow aisle, nearly all the seats taken, I approach the emergency exit row and two large men stare up at me, both pointing to the seat between them, "We saved this seat for you." I smile, happy to have the leg room and their smiles convey, 'good company' as well.

The conversation started immediately. He was a tall, big man, in his late forties, clean shaven and casual...until the photos he shared where his 'bad-boy-self' appeared on a few of his customized Harleys. He was a professional, a consultant, working long hours, long weeks on end, but he knew how to play just as hard as he worked. Extreme vacations. Motorcycles. Cigars and whiskey. And, out of the blue, an outstanding father as well. He was so proud of his daughter, whom he had raised solely for the first 5 years of her life. She plays pro volley ball and has an outstanding education. She is responsible and respectful. He could have charged for and held a seminar for the wisdom he freely passed along regarding parenting do's and don'ts. We spoke of our daughters, of our careers, and then the subject matter switched to spiritual views, to morals, and judgment / non-judgement. He had a secret, one he kept from his wife, and I was the one he decided to confide in. I am no man's judge and clearly stated this saying,
          "If you can lay your head on the pillow at night and honestly answer to yourself and to your God, then that is the real test, that is where your answers lie."
He replied that this was the very place he was the most uncomfortable, because he could not fall asleep in peace at night. The conversation that transpired was amazing. We spoke of honesty, forgiveness, truth, and the big picture of what life means to us individually. I may have been his "confession booth" for that particular flight, but our conversation opened my eyes, my mind, and my soul to ACCEPTANCE; not just of people, but the varied views and compromises that we as humans feel we have to make in order to live this gift of life as sanely as possible. Yes, sanely...not just as peacefully or happily as possible, but sanely. We must not judge. We are only responsible for expressing love toward others and acceptance of one another;  for we do not see the big picture of another's life...that is between them and their Maker. I was richly blessed for the perspective I gained that day.

Not only did he impart to me a new perspective, but he kept my frazzled self calm during what is always a challenge for me; landing. It was a rough landing with bumps and dips, and in my mind, an 'out of control' attempt at landing our massive aircraft. He made me stare at him as we counted 1-2-3 and tapped on a pressure point on our wrists. Together. I would focus for a bit then freak out and clench the seat handles and dart a glance out the window. He'd pull me back in with his counting. We landed twice, you know like a stone skipping across the water's surface, but we landed safe. I shook like a leaf in the breeze barely connected to its branch, but I managed a thank you, "You were my guardian angel today, thank you."


Flight Two:
My flight had all together been cancelled only 2 hours before I was to depart. I was stuck in Buffalo and had to be back in Boston at work by 8am the next morning. The airlines' solution was to merely fly me out the following morning, but I wouldn't make my obligations then. Within 20 minutes my sister-in-law and brother-in-law found me a new flight: and the adventure began. Delay after delay, and several adult beverages later, I experienced "flight two".

Another middle seat, emergency exit row again, and a man bigger than the last, early forties, with honest eyes. He was an educator for blue collar workers, teaching a trade; industrial painting. Imparting a skill for the betterment of society and the lives of these men, who given their past would never qualify for a "corporate" position among the white collar class of workers, but yet, he was giving them the opportunity to have self worth and pride in their abilities to provide for themselves and their families.

Another outstanding father. He shared his long story of raising three daughters in an unhappy marriage and then finally leaving when the youngest was in high school...the sacrifices he made for the sake of his children, moving and job changes, and the lessons he had learned along the way. The choices his daughters made regarding education and career...successful in the eyes of many. Then the daughter who already made him a grandfather and how his grandson lights his world with love and laughter and how he wouldn't change any of that. He showed off a picture of his 5 year old grandson, his pride and joy. His eyes lit up with happiness as he spoke of him. He gave me a glimpse into his world. A life. Selfless, yet proud. He inspired me.

He remains in my heart as a reminder that when life presents us with an obstacle, a challenge, a disappointment; that it really just comes down to our perspective and the choice we make. How can we make the best of what is presented to us? He was proud of his life. No real regrets. He had done and was doing the BEST he could.


Flight Three:
Baltimore airport...crowed with stranded travelers. Delayed flights and chaos. Not a shop open. No bar stool to refresh my mind and calm my nerves. Nearly midnight and exhausted I find my way onto my last flight of the night. My seat is picked for me; like a magnet to the fridge, or the tides to the moon, I am drawn in. Again, the middle seat of the emergency exit. Again, both passengers are big men, but the one by the window is who I instantly connect with. I don't remember asking him what he did or him asking me, but I quickly learned. Softly he said,
"I am a horse doctor."
I heard doctor just fine, but repeated what I thought I heard,
"Did you say you are a HORSE doctor, like a horse vet?"
I informed him that right then and there my dream came true, because I was now seated next to my hero. "Some people dream of sitting next to a celebrity or meeting someone famous, like a rock star or the president. Not me, I am your biggest fan! and you are my all time hero."
Never knew such a statement could make a man blush, but he did. I told him how ever since I was a very little child I wanted to be a veterinarian, and how at 10 years old I told this to our vet and then he shattered those dreams when he held my face in his hands and said,
"Oh, that is great, Stephanie, so you like math then?"
I shook my head no. Then he asked,
"Well, you must like science, huh?"
Again I shook my head no. He stood up with his hands on his waist,
"Then, Sweetie, you should probably do something else."
I hate how at such a young age my dream had been ripped from me...I just didn't know any better or didn't have the fire in me, yet, to prove that man wrong. So, here at 35 years old, a horse doctor was telling me it wasn't too late. Already having a medical background gave me a head start. He lit a fire inside. I talked his ears off. I asked question after question. Due to weather we were stranded on the runway for an additional 45 minutes, and I was happy about it, even sitting there in that tin can.

I learned that he never flies commercial, and the only reason he was on that flight was (of course to make my night) because one of the engines on his plane, yes, his personal plane, was in the shop getting some work done. I sat there like a sponge soaking in every word that came from his mouth. He listened to me too though. I had no idea why he wanted to hear my stories when he was the hot topic here!!! I learned why the horse went down and landed on me when I gave him his shot all those years ago...the carotids take it right to the brain, but I was aiming for the jugular. Apparently I missed. He laughed. I was humbled...and instantly asked if that was why the horse ended up dying a few weeks later. No, he assured me it was not. He put me at ease when he said every one who has to give a horse a shot has either done that or will. We were comfortable. We sat there and I wished the flight was longer. I never felt claustrophobic. I never panicked. Didn't even realize we landed until after the fact. I didn't want the night to end...I wanted to keep listening. He traveled all over the world. He had clients in countries I could only ever imagine visiting. I hung onto every word.

We walked out of the airport together. I had a shuttle coming to take me to the extented parking and I was nervous...it was nearly 2am and I felt safer with this horse doctor, my hero, that I had just spent nearly 2 hours getting to know than the stranger who was going to be taking me to the spooky parking place. I asked him to accompany me to my car and then I would take him to his hotel. Less than 15 minutes later I was saying good-bye to my real live hero and I instinctively stood on my tip toes to hug his neck and he leaned in and kissed my cheek. He informed me that he was not easily impressed and I had now left a lasting impression. I hoped he knew how much meeting him had meant to me. He sparked an ember that I thought had died out long ago...but now something burned.

He had created an amazing life; he was an accomplished horse veterinarian, a business man, a leader, a scientist, a healer, a teacher passing on his knowledge to his interns and then freely sharing with me. He was humble, ever so humble. Of course I did my research! The very next day I looked him up online. He didn't even begin to tell me all that he has done and the awards he has received, or the details of the practice he owns. What a man! I have to admit, I think my type of hero is amazing and I felt so lucky, so blessed, to have met him, face to face, and to have shared the time we did.

INSPIRED: the travelers along my journeys have taught me so much and have inspired me on numerous occasions, but on this night particularly, something in my heart changed. I found a new belief: not necessarily to return to school and become a horse doctor, not yet at least, but to BELIEVE that ANYTHING is possible. To BELIEVE that a GREAT LIFE can be created, one decision at a time, one effort at a time, one accomplishment after another. Thank you, "Doc."


Flight Four:   To be continued...for this opens another chapter. The chapter of travel and work has ended. Stephanie as a traveling sonographer is no more...I begin a new chapter the 19th of this month. But it all began on "Flight Four" on my way to the Keys.

Home of the Brave

Li Tong walks into the facility where she recently had her ultrasound of her unborn child. She simply wanted a photo of her baby, which she felt she had been promised, but was never given. In her best attempt at the English language, she stood at the receptionist's desk trying to explain why she had come. No, she didn't have appointment, which aggravated the front desk girl, but, patiently, and with a smile on her face, Mrs. Tong tried her best.

I was covering as a temp tech in an out patient diagnostic center and the schedule was typically very full, but this afternoon, there was a lull. In the hope of finding something to do, I walked to the front office to find the discussion with Miss Li taking place. I offered to pull up her previous ultrasound and print up some pictures for her. Surprisingly, they let me bring her back with me. I was happy to have her tag along and I brought her into the ultrasound room and closed the door for privacy. She explained herself all over again, of how she just wanted a picture of her baby. Today was the only day she could come by, because she worked 6 days a week, sometimes 7,  in a nail salon. Her husband worked 7 days week and was unable to be with her when the ultrasound was done, so she just wanted a picture to show him. Li seemed fearful, yet brave at the same time. I couldn't quite put my finger on it.

As we talked, and I tried my best to understand her broken English, I found the exam and viewed image after image, looking for a "cute" picture of her baby. None. There was not one profile picture, not even a "boy" image, even though she had been told she was having a son. I went through all of them again, hoping I had missed something. Still nothing. Diagnostic images only. Not even a hand or a foot image to "awww" over. Nothing to print for her. I felt terrible. What was I to do? I asked if she could stay for a bit and offered to scan her right then and there and get some new cute pictures of her baby boy. She agreed, but wished her husband could be there with her. I promised to take as many pictures as possible so she could show her husband their son and some extras to send to family if she wanted.

Family. I scanned and she told me her story. She didn't have any family here, only her husband. They had come here from Vietnam to start working and save up money so they could bring the rest of their families over; her parents, sisters, and brother, his parents and sisters. They had both received their education in Vietnam and were accountants. They thought finding work would be simple since they both had college educations and marketable skills. Once here, in the United States of America, they learned that the accountant degree from Vietnam was not recognized, whatsoever. Neither of them could find work as an accountant, so her husband was going to go to college again in order to obtain an American college degree in accounting and she would work, then she would go to college once he found work as an accountant. They had a small studio apartment and she had found work at a nail salon. Then she ended up pregnant. She and her husband were both in their thirties, not just "kids" who didn't know better and screwed up; they actually had a plan, they actually were trying to do things right, they actually had a realistic dream of building a home and a life here in America, and bringing the rest of their families over to join them. Actually. Actually, they were thrown a curve ball. Her husband quit school once they learned they were having a baby and he went to work in the same nail salon so they could save as much money as possible in order to bring a family member over to help with the baby once he was born. They were struggling and hoped to be as prepared as possible once their son arrived. I told her that what mattered most was that their child felt love and I was certain he was going to have plenty of that.

We took some great photos and printed up a string of images for her to show her husband and some duplicates that she could send home to their parents in Vietnam. We were done taking "cute" pictures, and I noticed that she was shaking as she decided to sit down in the chair in the room. We were finished, but she stayed. She started to cry as she told me how scared she was. How much she missed her family and hadn 't planned for this at all. How tired she was. How her hands ached from working such long days and how the fumes in the salon made her head hurt. She quivered. I sat and listened. Then I assured her that yes, it can be scary and overwhelming, but it is all worth while. Her life was changing; she was a mother now, and when she held her son for the first time, when she looked at her boy, everything would seem right and she would know it was all going to be okay. I told her of my little one (not so little any more) and of some of the struggles we had faced and how there were times we ate the same thing for dinner every night for a week, but what mattered was that we were safe, healthy, and had each other. She hugged my neck and thanked me for listening and understanding. Tears filled her eyes as she told me that I was the first person to have listened to her since she came to America.

Before we opened the door to walk to the front office I told her how I admired her bravery and strength and I truly believed that God was with her and her family; that everything was going to turn out just fine.

At the end of my day, I reflected on how much we, in America, seem to expect to have this or that, to have it all, and how we expect to be treated...as though it is our right. We expect a baby shower for our baby. We expect our family members (at least our mothers) to help us out when the baby arrives. We expect to live in a nice house, work a decent job, have days off, and have our spoken language understood. We EXPECT. But, all Miss Li wanted was to know that she would be able to feed her baby and have a way to give him a home. She was happy with her tiny studio apartment and was grateful for the work, even the long hours she and her husband had to work. She didn't complain, she just worried; worried about the kind of life she would be able to give her son and the life her parents and in-laws back in Vietnam would have...and when they would finally be able to come to America, The Home of the Brave.

May we find gratitude for the simplest things in our life...and may we remember people like Li Tong who give everything they can to provide for their family and unborn children. Through courage and bravery they  create a good life for their loved ones.

Broken Wings Can Fly

Working late, on a travel assignment in a level 1 trauma community hospital, the worklist piles up with ER patients, one pelvic ultrasound after another. Phone calls back and forth with each of their nurses to make sure the patient fills her bladder and DOES NOT go to the restroom until I do their exam. Busy. So busy that transport is too far back up that waiting for them to bring me my next patient only makes the night grow longer. The phone rings, and I am informed by the nurse, that bed 17 is ready, her bladder is full.

Arriving in the ER, I find the nurse to inform her that I will be taking bed 17 for her ultrasound now...
"Wait!!!!" she says, "she's bat shit crazy, a real bitch, you're gonna want me to medicate her first."
SERIOUSLY, quote on quote. Instantly, I got defensive for the patient's sake, even though I had never met her, but who are we to judge...we don't really know them. I asked the nurse not to bother with the meds and that I would be fine. She looked at me like I was the crazy one, "Sweetie, you are really going to wish I had." I smiled and told her it was okay.

Room 17: "Miss Janelle?"
                 "Yes."
                 "I am Stephanie from ultrasound and I am going to take you for your exam now."

She looked a bit rough, but there was light in her eyes. Tall, lanky, gaunt, younger than me, but not by much. She was tender and sensitive to me. She apologized for not having showered before coming in, she was worried that she would offend me in some way. We chatted all the way down the hall and into the ultrasound department. Everything seemed basically normal.

We started and she talked and talked. I listened. My heart started breaking for her, for her pain. Abandoned by her mother as a baby she was adopted into a very religious, striked, abusive family. They'd over medicate her with this drug or that, in the attempts of making her completely submissive. She felt dopey and out of it all the time. Confused. By the age of 12 they sent her away, unwanted, to a boarding school where she experienced things a child should never have to endure. Her parents never came to see her. Eventually she ran away from school and survived on the streets. She had an adoptive brother, whom she only really spent time with later in life, as an adult, because they had done the same to him. Druging him, abusing him and sending him away. She was close to him for the very fact that they both had been through hell, but he was messed up over it as well. She continued,
             "I just wanted to be wanted. So I did anything to be liked. I thought that maybe if I found my birth mother, she would want me. So, I went looking for her. It was good to 'see' her, to find her, but the things she told me were devasting. She blamed me for her life being so horrible. She told me I was the worst thing that every happened to her. She did not want me."

If anyone had a right to be "bat shit crazy" this poor girl did. But she wasn't. Surprisingly, she found a way to survive. She told me that one day, at rock bottom, after having been rejected time and time again, she simply decided that she had a choice. She could choose to be angry and feel sorry for herself, or she could choose to make her life the way she wanted it to be. She chose to LIVE and to make it the best life she could.
           "Everything is a choice." She told me.

She admitted to being a "wreck" somtimes. She admitted to feeling "overwhelmed" sometimes. She admitted that it was not easy, she still struggled. She had been sober for nearly a year and was very proud of herself. She said she refused to the pain meds the nurse had wanted to give her, because she had had problems with addiction to pills in the past. She said she would rather feel pain and know she was alive and aware, then to numb the pain and risk slipping into the fog of the life she used to live. She was the group leader for a support group at a home for recovering addicts. Everyday she worked with people who she understood because of the hell she herself had been through.
         "Janelle, so if you hadn't experienced the horrible things you did, you would not be able to help these people. You have obviously decided to take your bad times and turn them into a positive, a positive not only for yourself, but others." Then I asked her, "Don't you find it to be true that when we take our attention off ourself and put it on another, in the hopes of helping them, that we end up being helped as well?" She agreed, "Absolutely!"

I told her that I believed God had a special purpose for her and He was using her as an angel in the lives of many broken souls. I encouraged her and told her how proud I was of her choices. We talked and talked. There was not one crazy moment and I don't know who the nurse thought the patient was, but she was far from any form of a 'bitch' if ever there were one. I was blessed to hear her story. Tears filled my eyes, for I saw a beautiful delicate bird who had been tossed right out her nest, by her very own parents, then kicked around, stomped upon, her fragile wings broken into a hundred pieces, and yet, she had found the strength to mend, to heal, and was learning that even broken wings can fly. She made the choice.

There is a book I appreciate and use often, Heal Your Life. I told Janelle of this book and thought maybe she would like to use it with her groups. She sounded excited about it, but had a lot of questions as to where she could find it and what would it cost. I was impressed to make an offer, "Janelle, if you are comfortable giving me your address, I will mail one to you. Only if you are comfortable with it though." She couldn't ask for pen and paper fast enough.

In her vulnerable state, in her weakness, in her pain, I helped her to the restroom and assisted her in getting all cleaned up. New gown, new sheets, a new smile!

It was going to be her birthday at midnight...and when we returned to the ER it was officially her birthday! As I pushed her bed, I sang Happy Birthday, loud enough that everyone turned and stared. "It's HER Birthday!!!!" I cheered. She laughed. I laughed...totally embarrassed, but didn't mind, because I knew it made her feel special, like she mattered! As we passed the nurses' station, I chuckled inside as I imagined what the nurse for bed 17 was thinking now, "Now, they're both crazy!" Oh well.

As I was leaving her room, Janelle squeezed my hand and thanked me. I said, "I enjoyed every minute with you this evening, and thank you for sharing your story with me. Thank you for reminding me that the life we live is up to us and the decisions we make. I will never forget you. Have a very Happy Birthday..."

On my way back to the ultrasound department, I passed the nurses' station again, and there stood an ER physician lecturing the nurses. I have no idea why or for how long he had been talking to them, but what I heard was profound. He said with determination and authority (almost in frustration), "Remember...they are ALL God's Children."

I had to respond. I admired his attitude. I respected his motto...and the fact that he insisted on having his staff keep this in their minds as they treated their patients. The worse of the worse come to that ER; the homeless, the drunks, and a ton of inmates, shackled and escorted by guards. BUT, here, they are ALL to be treated equally, as "God's Children."

"Amen to that." I said as I walked by. By the time I reached the ultrasound department, I had to turn around. Something inside of me said to go back and speak with this physician. I had never seen him before and had no idea who he was. But, I HAD to speak with him, a voice inside was telling me to. I reasoned, "Fine, if he is all alone in the physicians' work room, then I will. Fine." The chances of that were slim, since there was usually several physicians on, PA's, and numerous residents. But, as I came around the corner, there he sat; alone. Deep breath in, I approached, introduced myself, and shared the story I just shared with you. I started with how the nurse assumed the patient was a "crazy bitch" and how it offended me that someone would make such an assumption, for I held the same view as he, "They are ALL God's Children." I have no idea why I needed to talk with him, why I was impressed to share Janelle's story and to tell him the impact his words had had on me and the pricise timing of them as well, but God knows why. I know that when we were done speaking, I felt peace. I had followed what I was led to do, and I can only hope that our conversation had a ripple effect, like a pebble in a pond. I hope he keeps reminding those he works with that no matter the patients' status or sitauation, "They are ALL God's Children."

Janelle was a blessing to me that night...she has wings, and like an angel she graced me with her presence and shared her bravery and strength with me. Thank you, Janelle. Thank you Universe. Thank you, God.

(*names and places have been altered to protect the patient's identity)