A quirky anniversary
The perils of working night shift... well, maybe "peril" is just a bit overkill, but there are times when working nights can be frustrating.
Case in point, I went to bed at 11 p.m. last night and woke up at 2:30 a.m. and just couldn't fall back asleep. I lay there in bed listening to train after train rumble by, the blast of their horns echoing off the woods, until finally deciding to get up at 5 a.m. Of course, I sacrificed an Iguana out in my thinking spot (the garage) while the rest of the house snored, and now seems a good time to update my blog. I guess insomnia is bound to happen from time to time after working seven consecutive night shifts -- and the good news is all will stay up all day and then get back on a day schedule tomorrow after collapsing into bed this coming night. My life is so frickin' rough, huh?
No, I'm not complaining. Just thinking out loud on electronic paper.
Of course when you lay in bed, the ol' thought machine starts churning (at least mine does). I started thinking what today's date was: April 14th. It took me a while to figure out why that date seemed important. It turns out it was exactly 20 years ago this afternoon that I lopped off my finger in a machine at work. I was rushed to Unity Hospital in Fridley where I underwent surgery and that was my first-ever hospital experience.
This is significant because I found the hospital environment very interesting and I thought the job the nurses did was extraordinarily important. The more I thought about it, the more convinced I became that it was something I would like to do, too. But 20 years ago, I was discouraged in doing so by the-person-who-shall-not-be-named, yet the thought stayed with me for several years until life events unfolded and I was free to make the decision to pursue it as a career.
So here I am, 20 years later. I've built a solid career in the medical field, but that damn finger hasn't grown back an inch.
And life goes on, my friends. Life goes on.
Case in point, I went to bed at 11 p.m. last night and woke up at 2:30 a.m. and just couldn't fall back asleep. I lay there in bed listening to train after train rumble by, the blast of their horns echoing off the woods, until finally deciding to get up at 5 a.m. Of course, I sacrificed an Iguana out in my thinking spot (the garage) while the rest of the house snored, and now seems a good time to update my blog. I guess insomnia is bound to happen from time to time after working seven consecutive night shifts -- and the good news is all will stay up all day and then get back on a day schedule tomorrow after collapsing into bed this coming night. My life is so frickin' rough, huh?
No, I'm not complaining. Just thinking out loud on electronic paper.
Of course when you lay in bed, the ol' thought machine starts churning (at least mine does). I started thinking what today's date was: April 14th. It took me a while to figure out why that date seemed important. It turns out it was exactly 20 years ago this afternoon that I lopped off my finger in a machine at work. I was rushed to Unity Hospital in Fridley where I underwent surgery and that was my first-ever hospital experience.
This is significant because I found the hospital environment very interesting and I thought the job the nurses did was extraordinarily important. The more I thought about it, the more convinced I became that it was something I would like to do, too. But 20 years ago, I was discouraged in doing so by the-person-who-shall-not-be-named, yet the thought stayed with me for several years until life events unfolded and I was free to make the decision to pursue it as a career.
So here I am, 20 years later. I've built a solid career in the medical field, but that damn finger hasn't grown back an inch.
And life goes on, my friends. Life goes on.
