(How do you solve a problem like Maria–The Sound of Music)–I have the best daddy every…I checked out Jesus Chainsaw Massacre at the library today and we watched it together and then he made the video player work so I could start watching The Sound of Music!!!!! So excited!!!!! So much better than the DVD of it I cried through last summer that wasn’t quite right!!!!!
Some things are hard. I still have survival brain (reference here). Today last year was the last time I was in 219’s office…making plans for next meetings…which she apparently knew weren’t going to happen, because three days later she was going to cancel our phone meeting in the morning (and again ask to re-schedule which she knew she wasn’t going to do)…and then terminate with me in the afternoon as if I had never existed in the first place…although if I am being really honest, I never really existed to her as a client…as a verbal punching bag to manipulate and exert a sense of control over, yes, but as a client or even as a person, definitely not…I was ready to get rid of her, but I was ready to do it gently, formally, and, dare I say, appropriately? The goal was to remove me from the toxic environment, but I wanted to spare both her feelings and my own, and I suppose to ensure that from the outside no one would find out there was ever a problem. I wanted to close the book, but instead she ensured she could continue to hurt me even through and following termination.
This time of year will probably continue to be hard for me in the years to come. I wish I had realized what was happening a lot sooner and asserted my own rights…and maybe hadn’t been quite so protective of the people around me when my world was falling apart, because while I would never wish harm on even the people I do not like (I like self-defense, but the idea of intentionally hurting someone who isn’t wearing padding is something I don’t think I could do even if the other person wanted to hurt me…and verbal hurting of people is the same in my eyes), I can look back now and recognize that my over-protectiveness got in the way of anyone finding out what had really happened until it was too late to do anything about it…
I am working on re-applying for the same scholarship I was a semi-finalist for last year…with deep-seated memories of frustratingly trying to work things out to have access to my transcript…and the application itself…to apply to be a finalist…I am doing okay now, but it is painful to reflect back on the chaos, panic, desperation, fear, and hurt that this weekend and the weeks to come plunged me into last year. I still mourn the loss of my friendships in the weeks and months that followed. I am SO thankful for the people who stepped into my life this year to walk with me through everything, but nothing will ever erase what I have endured, and new friends do not replace the voids left by the old. I still feel empty inside sometimes where there are pieces missing of my heart.
But I wanted to share my first draft of one of my essays…it is a first draft so it is not edited whatsoever…and not very good…but it is a part of my story…so I’m gonna share it…slight literary license was used in this draft though…among other things, I was in 4th grade rather than 6 years old in the first paragraph…haha…this is so different from my school admissions essay years ago that was very clearly thrown together without a whole lot of effort (and which I am not sharing)…because this draft alone might not have used much brainpower, but I did at least CARE, and used thought to move to the final draft…
so yeah…here it is:
As a six year old girl, I didn’t want to be a princess…or a mom…or a ballerina. I wanted to be a pharmacist, but I couldn’t let anyone know—I could never be a pharmacist because the hospital is open 24 hours a day and I needed to sleep. My parents suggested one day that perhaps I’d be interested in being a pharmacist, and I finally let my secret out, and to my surprise, learned that pharmacists work in shifts, making my impossible dream a possibility. By the end of the year, I had shadowed [name], a pharmacist at [hospital] for the first time, confirming my dream to become a pharmacist.
Ten years later, I was shadowing her again getting ready for a diabetic education with a Hmong interpreter when a code was called in the ED. Unlike the movies where doctors are running around and doing everything while the family screams and monitor sirens go off, the pharmacist and I assessed the medications needed, and prepared the medication while the doctors and nurses calmly administrated the medication, monitored the patient, and ultimately intubated the patient and got him ready to be admitted to PICU, and while all this happened, a social worker was comforting the family and explaining what was happening and a child life worker was organizing activities for the sick child’s siblings.
Watching the teamwork from all members of the healthcare team, and seeing the active role a clinical pharmacist has in patient care and in decision making with physicians solidified my dream to become a pediatric clinical pharmacist.