Things I Should Be Doing Instead of Writing A Blog Post

Homework. I, as I am quick to remind anyone around me whenever they ask me favors, am a nursing student. Right now, I’m in OB. Or if you want to get technical, Care of Childbearing Families. It’s the second week and OB? Already kicking my ass. For a change, I have two fantastic and supportive teachers, but they are like mean personal trainers. Super intense personal trainers who make you work out all the time. It’s actually not that bad, but I really should be working on my case studies now if I don’t want to spend Halloween pouting into a nursing textbook with my zombie makeup on. Bringing me to the next thing I should be doing:

Buying scrubs nevermind, let’s go for all Hs. Halloween. After much debate, I’ve finally decided on dressing up as a zombie nurse. It’s been a long journey to get to this point. Last year, I was Mrs. Lovett from Sweeney Todd, and although it was a pretty amateur costume, everyone agrees it was pretty awesome and pretty difficult to top. Over the course of the following year, I went through a bunch of costume ideas, ranging from Coraline to Marilyn Monroe (with a homemade dress which by God I will sew some day) to zombie!Marilyn Monroe (with a storebought and mangled dress). I finally settled on zombie nurse, and I’ll tell you why. Because we are going to be the first to go.

Picture this: you are the unwitting carrier of a zombie virus. I don’t know – pick whichever one you like. You might be rabid or vomiting blood, or your first symptoms might be more subtle and flu-like as they appeared to be in Shaun of the Dead, or you might even be blatantly aggressive and bitey. Whichever route you’re taking, what will likely be the last rest stop on your road trip to the land of the undead? You got it – the hospital. Whether it’s the ER, or the ICU, or the psych unit where you take your violent turn, it doesn’t really make a difference – who are you going to bite? You think you’re going to bite a doctor? Pfffhthbth. Yeah, ’cause they spend so much time at any given bedside. No darling, you’re biting the nurse. You’re biting the young lady (or man) who checks in on you hourly and situates herself easily within attacking distance to listen to your wheezing breath sounds and your hyperactive gut, who leaves her exposed, trusting wrist hovering over your mouth while she pulls back your eyelids and checks your pupil response, who will be too focused doing neurovascular checks on your restrained extremities to see your sudden lunging ambush coming. That’s who you’ll bite, sirs and madams. We are going first.

Anyway, so I need to run to Wal-mart and get a pair of cheap scrubs for that.

My brother, Sweeney.

I also need a pumpkin. For the past few years, I’ve been making my own patterns in Photoshop. Last year, to go with my Mrs. Lovett costume, I carved Judge Turpin’s face into a pumpkin and stuck a fake knife into it. Neighborhood kid tried to steal it. You know how that goes. The year before that, my pumpkin’s subject was Mr. Todd himself, which my then-ten-years-old nephew mistook for his father wielding a sword. A friend of mine who is almost as obsessed with musicals as I am told me I wasn’t allowed to do anything but Sweeney Todd – themed pumpkins until I had carved the entire main cast of the motion picture, but my soul is much like my hair, in that it is rebellious and untameable. So I’d really like some ideas, if anyone happens to stumble upon this.

Health. (Did you forget this was a list? I did.) Before I was allowed into my nursing program, I had to (among other things) go to my doctor and get a physical done. My longtime GP said, “You seem like a very healthy young lady.”  That was last summer. Now, I’ve gained 15-20 lbs, my left eye twitches constantly, I’m always nauseous, I don’t remember the last time I had a normal menstrual period, my heart flippity-flops around in my chest like a break-dancing trout if I eat one microgram of salt too many, I wake at night with muscle cramps and restless leg syndrome, I get unexplained blind spots in both my eyes, my skin won’t stop breaking out, and my left foot feels like it’s going to rupture like a water balloon every time I step on it. Nursing school: It’s not great!

Anyway, the foot thing is a problem because it’s destroying my dreams of dropping 50 pounds and becoming a long-distance runner, and also the attendance grade on the PE class that I need to graduate. So right now I should be calling my GP and asking him to recommend a podiatrist. (And, if you’re asking the people I am foolish enough to talk to about my menstrual cycle, I should also be looking for a gynecologist. But we’re not asking them anything anymore, are we?)
In other news, my CDs are here! If I ever stop procrastinating, maybe you’ll hear about them!