[I thought Will looked particularly like he could be thinking “it just got real, people” in this picture.] I guess “just” isn’t totally accurate. Clinicals started last week (technically I went once for 3 hours before last week, but that barely counts) and let me tell you: It’s real. I don’t think of myself as a particularly anxious person, but BOY can I find ways to be nervous about NP clinicals. Every night-before-clinical is an internal battle that consists of MAJOR butterflies and NOT very impressive attempts at self-talk. And when I sit down and really spell out all my worry, it’s quite rediculous.
I am afraid of my preceptor giving me too much responsibility. I’m ALSO simultaneously afraid of her not giving me enough responsibility. I am anxious about how to prep for clinical. Nervous about the patients I’ll see. Concerned that my preceptor will think I am incompetent. Worried I won’t ask enough questions. And this is all AFTER I’ve been to TWO AND A HALF FULL DAYS OF CLINICAL, which were NOT traumatic or bad or a disappointment in any way. I think it’s safe to conclude I need to RE-LAX. Breathe. Take a couple monstrously large DEEP breaths, actually. Permanently tattoo the words “It’s going to be OK, you can DO this” all over my arms. But I find these things incredibly difficult to do the evening before a day in clinic.
Dependence on God is a difficult practice. It just is. You have to choose it, all the time, and times when you realize you haven’t been choosing it makes it even more difficult. Phew. Prayers over here, please. I’ll take ’em.
On a fluffy cuddly pet-therapy sort of note, I found the most adorable sweet kitty I would like to take home and keep.
On glorious rare occasions throughout my childhood, my mom would take my sister and I to the humane society to pet kitties. What a treat this always was. So I was headed to Trader Joe’s yesterday (on another unexpected day off), and I felt a pang of nostalgia as I passed by PAWS (an animal adoption center in Chicago here) a few blocks down. And then I thought, “Oh, what the heck! I’ve never actually been inside a PAWS. They’re supposed to be kind of cool places. And I’ve got time! I’m goin’ in.”
And then, terribly unexpectedly (who could have ever seen this coming???) I fell in love with a kitty. She laid in my arms like a little squishy bean bag, played with my hair, and generally melted my heart into a puddle of hearty-mush as she rested her little kitty head on my chest.
Bringing her into our home is a pretty long shot. Her still being at PAWS by the weekend is probably an even longER shot. But a girl can dream. Let me have my dreams.