Friday, September 25, 2009

The Night People

Reply |Smith, Jerald
show details 12:35 PM (6 hours ago)


Glimmers
September 24, 2009
11:01 p.m.


Night people are different. I don’t know if they are different inherently, or psychologically, or if it is the night schedule that makes them seem one-off. They live in an out of synch world. Most people, including those in their own families, are Day People. Normal People. Some Night People work days too and only have to work nights every once in a while. Some of them work nights all the time because they have to for reasons of job availability, or because of sharing child rearing duties with their spouse. Some do it because they want to. For the life of me, I can’t understand the latter group. It’s only 11:00 p.m. and I feel like a zombie.

I grab the bag full of candy bars, gum, M&Ms and lifesavers and become a one-man rounding team. Rounding is a fun way to interact with hospital staff, give them a treat and leave them with a smile. The night people are surprised to see me. “What are you doing here this late?” or some variation thereof. “I came to hang out with my night peeps,” I say. They laugh because it sounds so un-cool when I say it. But they laugh. Laughter seems to come easily to the Night People. There is a sort of camaraderie among them. Kind of like that of frat boys who survived the hazing or soldiers who went through boot camp together. “We’re strong, we’re invincible. We’re the Night People.” “I’m here for the third shift dinner at 2,” I say. “Don’t forget.” The thought of hot food, freshly prepared, brings a smile.

The hospital is a different place at night. Some strange sort of alchemy transforms the daytime hustle and bustle, generalized and sometimes frenetic, to islands of busyness surrounded by an ocean of calm. Our four-story atrium, Grand Central during the day, is an empty cavern. Someone is in radiology. They have to be. But they are out of public view at the moment. There are no patients being transported from hospital rooms to procedures in nuke med, CAT scan or MRI. Most patients are sleeping or watching TV as I glance in the rooms . The pace of testing and procedures has slowed for now. Except for the Emergency Department. It keeps on humming and it keeps the machines humming too.

In a few hours the early morning labs will begin, heralding the coming dawn. Shifts will change and the Day People, in synch with their natural circadian rhythms, will take the helm once more.

So here’s to the Night People. Black out the windows. Pull up the covers. Get some sleep. We’re going to need you again in a few hours. And thanks.

Blessings to you all,

Jerald

Thursday, September 10, 2009

That "Newbie" Feeling

Glimmers
September 10, 2009

In his book, "A Complaint-Free World", Will Bowen observes that there is a four-step process to learning any new skill. The first is unconscious incompetence, the second is conscious incompetence, the third is conscious competence and finally, unconscious competence.

It has been a long time since I felt really incompetent. What about you? I got reacquainted with the feeling in June. As I mentioned in the Glimmers dated May 27, I enrolled in an Aikido class. I had seen the Sensei, Allen Drysdale, demonstrate some self-defense techniques to a meeting I attended and it piqued my interest. Over a year later, I acted on it and signed up.

I arrived early for my first Saturday morning class, excited and a bit nervous. I had no idea what awaited me. Other class members arrived, began donning their outfits. Later I learned the outfit is called a “Gi.” Over their gi’s, they put on some black pant-like things with baggy legs that made them look almost like long skirts. I later learned these are called “ hakimas.” I heard lots of other foreign terms that day as the Sensei would name and then demonstrate holds and throws. I figured that sooner or later, by brain and my tongue would figure out how to say the words. What I didn’t figure on was that my body would be such a slow learner!

I learned early that first day that learning how to fall and roll would be very important. There are two different kinds of rolls. The back roll is done by tucking one leg behind the other, sitting on your butt on the same side as the tucked leg, and then rolling backwards over the opposite shoulder. I observed the more-experienced class members do it and then gave it a try. Somehow, what I saw with my eyes and communicated to my body to emulate got horribly scrambled in the process. It was totally embarrassing. OK, I thought, let’s try that other roll. The front shoulder roll is performed by placing one foot forward, bending over, curving your same side arm and shoulder back toward your feet so that your fingers are pointed toward your toes. Then you simply roll forward over the shoulder, the opposite hip, and return to a standing position. Simple, right? Again, my body betrayed me. I rolled sideways, like a log or barrel rolling down a hill. I tried it multiple times with the same result. No amount of instruction produced a proper result. It was ugly.

How, I thought, am I ever going to be able to do Aikido if I can’t do these basic moves, seemingly as simple as a child’s somersault! It did not help that there was this older guy there who appeared so normal, but when he began his Aikido moves he was so smooth, I promise, he floated on air.

In the following weeks, I thought about quitting several times. After my back seized up one week, I entertained the hope that I could blame my quitting on my aching back. “I’m not an awkward, uncoordinated quitter, I just have a bad back.” But it got better.

Sensei and more experienced classmates encouraged me. “The only way you won’t get better at Aikido is to die or stop coming,” he said. I could go along with the bad back idea, but dying? No. So I continued. Now, three months later,the rolls are coming along, the moves are becoming easier to do, and soon I’ll be ready to test for the next level.

Next time I have a new cashier at the grocery store and I start to roll my eyes because it is taking so long, I pray I have the good sense to remember how difficult learning new things can be. “New job?” “Hang in there.” “You’re doing fine.”

Blessings to you all,

Jerald

Friday, September 4, 2009

Betty's Legacy

Last Tuesday I was supposed to present a talk on Family Systems to our Space Coast Grief Education Alliance. I am the current vice-president of this multi-disciplinary organization. Our mission is providing education and support to those who are grieving.

I was unable to present because of the death of Betty Wilder, my sister’s mother-in-law. I received the news Sunday morning, worked most of Monday and then drove up to Tallahassee for the viewing and service. Had I been able to present my talk, among the things I would have talked about is family legacies.

In Contextual Family Theory, legacies are like strings that connect across generations. The behaviors and beliefs of preceding generations tug on the generation connected at the other end. Legacies can be positive or negative. With my talk preparations in my head, I listened and looked for those connecting strings.

There was a string of faith. Faith in God was central to Betty’s life, as it had been in her parents’ lives. There was another string of family connectedness. Thanksgiving Day gatherings at her mother's, Granny Goins, home could easily bring upwards of 75 family members together for dinner. But the string (legacy) that I heard most about was love.

Her nephew by marriage, Rev. Scott Kilgore, gave the eulogy. He talked about what a good cook Betty was, and she really was a great cook. Once he asked her, “Aunt Betty, why does everything taste better at your house?” She paused for a moment and said, “Because I cook with love.” She wasn’t kidding. He went on to talk about the other ways Betty infused what she did with love. I watched the family as he talked. I saw lots of heads nodding and smiling. It rang true with me, too. I had known Betty Wilder since I was seventeen.

At the conclusion of his message, Rev. Kilgore challenged us. He said, “All of you are here because you have been touched by Betty’s love.” “I challenge you today to pass that on.” “Don’t keep that to yourself, take the love you received from Betty and pass it on.”

Love. It is a good legacy to pass along. Besides, I couldn’t cook like her, even if I tried.

Blessings to you all,

Jerald