I have been dealt some crap. That’s no secret. I mean, 14 months of headache. That’s a crappy hand of cards. It just is. Plain and simple. I seem to generate bad luck, or crazy coincidences. It’s just one of my many gifts. It is, admittedly, one I’d like to give back.
Last week I wrote about being placed in my upcoming clinical in the same hospital that my grandma died in (because what are the freaking odds of that?). After days of anxiety I finally went and spoke to the director of clinical education. I leveled with him. I told him my fears (he almost immediately determined that I am “one of those people who needs to be in control.” Which apparently is a fact that I may as well tattoo on my arm because apparently I don’t hide my issues very well.) and he listened.
We talked for a half an hour longer than the meeting was scheduled. We talked 20 minutes longer than he even wanted to stay at school. It was Friday afternoon, after all. I cried. I chewed on my fingernails until they were nubs.
And forty five minutes later, a decision had been made. That clinical rotation was not the best thing for me.
I have been placed into a different environment, one that doesn’t make me want to cry. One that isn’t keeping me up late at night. One that doesn’t require me to be on constant anxiety medication.
Because besides my often crazy crappy hands of cards, one of the things I’ve been blessed with is extremely understanding people in my life. With people who care about me, who care about my well being, my safety.
And I’m guessing in a year or two, I won’t remember that this ever happened. I won’t remember the anxiety, the nail biting, the crying.
But I will remember that someone cared. That someone helped me.
Because I’m blessed with a lot of things. And some of them are pretty great.