Mini-Failures and Pandora's Box

Failure on Day 1:

Right, so picking this first day back from a 10-day vacation wasn't the smartest move.  While I coasted through the morning in my post-vacation Zen, the day really tried my patience and endurance.  My first day back was 12 hours long.

When I came home, Jack met me at the door with a glass of wine and a little appetizer so I could relax before dinner.  Best. Dude. Ever.

All thoughout the day, I listened to my self-talk.  It's exhausting, to focus on each though stringing throught your head like you're spinning yarn.  I created two big wooden boxes in my head, one to the left of my mental space, one to the right.  The one to the right is a big white wooden box, with thick wood slats, like one would find on a beach to house kayaks.  This box is marked "Pandora's" in newspaper ransom note letters.  The other box, a navy blue painted wood box, sits to the left, sort of in the shadows and has "EXPECTATIONS" strewn across it in hurried white paint.  

As I sense a thought that is pressing down on me or another person as an unfair, heavy, or just goofy expectation, I mentally shove it in the blue box.  But if I encounter any thought that is negative, going back to my old ways of doing something just to make someone else happy, or to achieve, or to look really good because my email box is at 3 (not!), I shove those compulsions into Pandora's Box.  I'm not sure if I will ever want to sort through that stuff again but for right know, I know they're safe and out of my way.  

My thoughts today still did vary when I had to break up a scruffle between two docs, spearhead a terrifying  budgeting process, and continued to shoulder a staffing crisis in IR.  But I purposely tried to change my attitude.  I'm doing this for my people and for my patients.  Not for me or my ego, to prove that I'm good at my job.  

I shared a bit of my struggle with my boss this morning, about the perfectionism thing, and she just laughed.  She said something like, "You do so well, I don't even know what you're worried about."  She didn't take me too seriously, so I will have to give her some examples about this paradigm shift I'm trying to make.

And without further adieu, mostly because my blessed Ambien is kicking in, I noted a few failures today at work.  I did not finish paperwork on root cause analyses and 2 other contracts that need to go out by tomorrrow at the latest.  I set the goal to get my email down to under 100 and I got it to 104.  I set the goal to leave the office by 5:45 and I got out of there at 6:10.  Pretty sure I won't lose my job over these.  OH, and I left a few dishes in the sink, letting Jack take care of things if he felt like it.  I didn't go to the gym and instead, watched an episode of Deadliest Catch.  The work will be there tomorrow.  The fat will be there tomorrow, as will the paper I have due on Saturday.  I have to clean my house this week for the management team I am hosting for dinner on Friday night.  Yet, somehow it will be all complete and it will have been GOOD ENOUGH!

Hurray for this new permission in my life...good enough!

End of an Era

So I've developed a unique habit of going to bed by 8:30 or 9 p.m. and watching something fulfilling and life-giving such as "The Cosby Show" or "Full House."  But that's only if "Friends" or "Chopped" isn't on.  I'm so not a television person and it's on in the background as I read.  There's something comforting about Rudy Huxtable and Uncle Jesse....

I feel tapped out.  I'm not complaining, mind you (!), just jotting down my feelings.  This past weekend was exhausting to me.  A dear old friend of mine visited for a few days and while it was nice to see her, it reminded me of how divergent our lives have become.  She's become the quintessential mom who makes all the organic food mixes and home-made lotions and lip balms.  I.....don't have children and I don't have time to go buy lip balm.  The visit illustrated the vast differences in our lives.  It was difficult to counter each story about a 3-year old's life journey with a tale about a lawsuit at work or an accreditation survey.  She wanted to talk about parenting ethics and psychology and I wanted to discuss current events (what in the HECK happened to that Malaysian Airlines flight?!).  I wanted to share cheese and wine and talk about career trajectory and she wanted to drink water and discuss parenting philosophies.

We both wanted different things.  It somehow turned into a friendly, polite discussion of who has the harder life.  Me, with my crazy hours and stress?  Her, with her children and educational position?  It's not even apples to apples; it's like comparing apples to Camry's.   I sort of understand what people mean when they say "irreconcilable differences" now.  

It felt a little like oil and water.  No matter how hard we tried to reconcile our differences, it was just different.  I love her like a sister but even despite my efforts to let the differences go, I couldn't help but mourn things a bit.  I felt a pit at the bottom of my stomach.  In the words of Friends, it was "the end of an era."  I had a feeling I wouldn't see her for a while, until our divergent lives turned a little and our paths could intersect once again.  

After I dropped her off at the airport, I drove home thinking about my life.  I like my life.  I LOVE my life.  When I contrast the life I could have had against my current life, I suddenly realize that God knew what He was doing when He directed me down a certian path.  Sometimes I can't say I'm giddy happy about my job but there are times when I can't help but smile about how things are going.  Is it tough?  Of course.  Not having children is very diffficult and because I look young for my age, I still get the question ever week or two, about how "someday" I'll have babies.  People tell me that I'll "soon understand it all" when we have babies.  Heck, I can't even eat Saltine crackers without people thinking I'm cooking a muffin in the oven.  

But that's not what God wanted for Jack and me.  And it's okay.  I've come to accept this fate and instead, we host friends and dinner parties and go out on random Wednesdays with my doctors at work who need to blow off steam while watching Pacers games.  

Sometimes I wish others would realize that God's different plan for us is different.  Sometimes God has crazy plans for us that illustrate His sense of humor.  All that matters is that I love my life and its direction....even if we divert from the norm.  

Hey, I had a small serving off French Fries for dinner!  How many parents can do that?!

Things Are Looking Up...

This week has been both wickedly stressful and weirdly relaxing.  Well, today was relaxing.  Okay, it was relaxing after 3:25 p.m., once I heard that the surveyors would not be back to visit radiology.

It's the lovely time of our every-three-year acccreditation survey.  Ever heard of Joint Commission?  They are the surveyors that every hospital leader fears.  The words "JCAHO's here" send ripples of terror through a management team faster than me seeking out a Dairy Queen on a 90 degree summer evening.  They do white glove tests on your equipment, quiz you on your own policies and procedures, observe your staff when your staff don't know they're watching (Handwashing!  Labeling meds!  Not eating tacos or drinking Diet Coke in the operating room.  Y'know, the little things).

They've been to Radiology six times since Monday.  Three times to the department itself and visits to three of my off-site imaging facilities.  Everyone did great.  But I've never seen people look so relieved when they finally left.  We have about 1100 standards to meet across all of Imaging and we only had one citation, so I'm totally chalking that up to a major, stress-let-down-migraine-inducing win.

Well, until next week.  We fully expect them to be back next week to survey our two remaining hospitals.  After the 348th snowstorm this year clears.  [As usual, I'm back-up administrator on call this weekend and will most likely have to go into the hospital Saturday night for the duration of the storm.  I have a 10-page Aquinas paper due next week, so I'm seriously debating hauling my books to work so I can write Saturday night.  Does it even get any better than that?  Feels like a Saturday Night Live skit!  I hope Tina Fey plays my character!]

But it's kind of nice because when JCAHO is in town, all meetings are automatically canceled.  You may have to spontaneously escort a surveyor somewhere or get called to the board room to answer questions.  But when you're not being bugged by the surveyors, you spend your time roaming around the department, making sure the nuclear hot lab door is closed, that someone hasn't left a wheelchair in the hallway, and that staff are using isolation protocol correctly.  

So after hourly department rounds, I found myself with a plethora of free time today.  I knocked a bunch of stuff off my three page to-do list and actually breathed.  I ate lunch in the staff break room.  I caught up with my assistant's home life (her two 'tweeners are hitting that sassy girl phase).  I filed stuff stacking up since Christmas.

I needed to declutter my office.  I needed to declutter my LIFE.

I decided that the unnecessary things have to go.  Family drama?  Gone.  I simply cannot worry about my brothers any more and how they may be screwing up their lives or hurting our parents.  I cannot worry about some out of town friends' work/life balances.   I cannot assume so much of other peoples' stress.  I'm working on my boundaries.  Taking care of ME is enough work.  

I'm reading this book called "Notes from My Blue Bike" and it's about intentional living.  It's the biggest cliche of the world, but I am trying to find joy in the little things.  And to cut out the unncessary, draining things (and people).  I do not owe anything to the energy vampires in my life.  

I live a pretty frickin' awesome life.  I have a husband that would do anything for me and is making me gain weight because of his stellar, nightly, multi-course dinners.  I have a family that loves me, friends who challenge and support me even during the toughest times.  I have a few very close friends whom I love dearly and without whom my life would seem so very empty.  My job is fabulous and I'm well-compensated for my hard work.  I am chairing my first board of directors and officially chairing two ethics committees now - two dreams I've had for years.  I'm going to Rome in a couple months, on the corporation's dollar, to tour Rome with a distinguished tour guide (I cannot wait to see Pope Francis up close- apparently we have an audience with him as part of a group).  I'm pursuing another master's degree in my beloved field of Theology.  I have a beautiful home in a safe neighborhood.  My car usually runs (if the snow's not too deep).  My gym membership is $5/month through work.  My commute is only 10 minutes now.  We stock good wine in our wine fridge.  The Lake Michigan beach house is booked in July.  I'm a blessed gal.  God is good.

And I usually feel as though there is 2,000 pounds on my shoulders.  I've been overheard complaining about how I hate my life and feel trapped.  I'm chalking THAT to seasonal affective depression and the fact that it has rained/snowed/sleeted/iced EVERY SINGLE WEEKEND since the New Year.  The most annoying optimists are even looking glum these days.  I told my assistant that I'm taking a day off the first time it hits 70 and is sunny outside.  I'm going to plant my butt on the deck with a chaise lounger, book, and chilled beverage.  Even if it falls on a random Tuesday.

So instead of complaining about how stressed I am and how my treadmill of existence won't slow down enough to let me stop hyperventilating, I'm really trying to look upward.  Instead of forging stoically ahead, I'm trying to stop and insert some intentionality into my life.  I'm so blessed and all I do is complain.  

Hence my Lenten resolution to stop complaining.  For Lent, one is supposed to give up negative things harming one's relationship with others or God.  Lent is like a New Year's celebration, a chance to start anew and develop better habits.  Ash Wednesday is like the Catholic Opening Ceremonies, designed to kick off the Lenten New Year with intentionality.     

   

I really like Lent.  In addition to the Friday's with cheese pizza and mac and cheese with fish sticks, Lent challenges me to look hard at my inward tendencies...and change those things that I can really tell are getting in my way of living the life God wants me to live.  

Here's to looking upward.

Angels Among Us...

Sometimes, you have to come home from work and watch "America's Funniest Videos."

You know, while you're waiting for the news to be over so that you can watch the Olympics.  

Actually, the Olympics are pissing me off.  Indianapolis too closely resembles Russia (Siberia) these days.  Yesterday, we hit the snowiest day in the history of mankind in Indianapolis.

Do me proud, Indy!  Our freaking snowblower broke during the "freak" blizzard of January 5-6, when it was -40 degrees. The first time.  Jack and I reasoned, "Hey!  We live in Indy now!  This was a once-in-a-hundred-years storm!"  

The first time.

We should have fixed that #*@&^#&! snowblower!  I'm still sore from shoveling the other night.

I'll admit it...I'm over it.  Like, forever.  If I ever complain even once about 93 and humid this summer, you can dump my margarita over my head.  And then roll me into an ant hill. 

*************

I started the above post a few days ago, meaning to return.  If it helps, it's now 65 degrees, the snow melted in a scant 30 hours, things are flooding, and oh, now we have a tornado watch.  Why not!?

So today was easily in the top 10 of worst days ever.  Raging weather-related migraine aside, I lost my first patient.  Well, my first real patient.  We have lost a few patients but their deaths were a result of last-ditch efforts or hospice care that eased them peacefully into the next life.  

This one was an outpatient.  She was walking and talking when she arrived.  She did not go home. 

At the time of the Code Blue, I was standing in one of the main hallways.  We always freeze when we hear "Code Blue" paged overhead.  Especially when we hear "Code Blue, Outpatient Services," there is a 95% chance it's my department.  I stand there like a mime, waiting for the shoe to drop, so I can dash off in the right direction of the Code. 

This time, it was "Code Blue, Outpatient Services, CT Scan."

Off we went.

I arrived about 20 seconds after the Code was called and saw my staff already initiating chest compressions to restart the patient's heart until the ER team arrived to help.  I'm not at liberty of sharing any more details since the case is going to formal review, but many silver linings came out of this one.

The team responded so gracefully.  These radiology staff are not trained in emergency or trauma medicine.  They are not used to seeing projectile bleeding (well, for that matter, neither am I).  They're not used to physically feeling a patient grow cold, knowing that individual is dying in their arms.  They've never witnessed repeated, unsuccessful attempts at shocking a patient to restart their heart.  It's tough stuff and no amount of training prepares you.

Another first for me today, I had to go with the ER doctor to talk to the family.  They had no idea things had turned so grim.  When I spoke, someone else's voice came out of me.  She sounded calm, professional, and together.  I felt a big disconnect because inside, I was shaking like a leaf.

After the incident cleared and the staff cleaned the patient up so that the family could visit her one last time, I called a formal debriefing (more of a de-stressing).  One of my colleagues is a trained debriefing professional and I knew I needed a pro for this one.  In a group setting, she asked everyone how they were and what they were feeling.  It was the first time many, even the ER nurses, had a debrief.  While I don't want to have too many Code Blue's in Radiology, I will definitely continue that practice. 

It's so hard to see my staff struggling with this.  And I realized, driving home, that I felt a growing heaviness on my own heart.  While we had no negligence in this case, it's my job to keep patients safe.  It's my job to make sure that when they walk in, they are able to walk out.  I felt a deep stabbing of yuckiness at the terrible direction this one case took.  It wasn't our fault and still, we were helpless in changing that patient's end.  

I kept hearing the phrase "Maybe God needed her more than we did" come out of my mouth.  I'm not really sure what that means but I think it was me, trying to make some sense out of a terrible situation.

The upshot to this was the intense teamwork I saw, not just in Radiology, but across hospital management.  People came out of the woodwork to support me and help me make calls (when you have an unexpected death in a hospital, there's a ton of paperwork and phone calls.  You have to notify everyone from the CEO to Risk Management to Public Relations - in case someone starts a media firestorm).  When I finally stumbled back to my office, several directors had left voicemails, offering to help me.  Once word started to spread, some took it upon themselves to help me notify the necessary individuals.  

I felt like they were angels, swooping in to take some of the burden off of these weary shoulders.  

So while the outcome of one of our procedures today was awful and totally unexpected, I found solace in the fact that our team did the very best they could.  And that I'm really not alone out there; that in the moments when I most need support, there are angels hiding in the wings to come to my assistance.    

Flashing Back to '09

I found this a while back and thought it extremely appropriate...

I dreamt about how I was going to write this post. Should I start with "I got the job!" Or something more demure such as, "I somehow survived to the finish!"

Or maybe just, "I'm completely sidelined with labyrinthitis and it's forcing me to stop and be sick and reflect a bit on the craziness and drama of the last 3.5 years..."

Whatever the opening line may be, I am moving to Indy. I accepted a wonderful promotion at one of our flagship hospitals and I keep having to pinch myself to make sure it is actually happening.

And the inner ear stuff? It hit me instantaneously at one of my Franciscan leadership retreats. Here I was, sitting, absorbing the astounding lessons from America's foremost expert in Catholic Social Theory and the room started spinning...

...Not spinning as in, merry-go-round...

...but spinning as though I'd had 6 cocktails...

...and I was on a pitching boat, far out to sea....

It was fun. Really. I had no idea I was experiencing my first bought of vertigo.

It ended up with two medically-trained fellow retreat colleagues, leading me up to my hotel room while I staggered down the hallway and tried to not yarmit on them.

Pretty picture, eh? Humility lives!

Luckily, one of my colleagues is an ED physician who pronounced me free of serious cardiac or stroke-related symptoms. Whew.

[Now, could y'all please leave so I can yarmit in peace???!?]

After a harmless visit to the ED the next morning and several IV meds, Jack drove me home so I could lay still in a dark room with Downton Abbey on in the background.

Husbands rock. So does Downton Abbey if you haven't yet discovered it.

Anyway, BEFORE the inner ear infection hit me like a sledgehammer, I solidified my transition to St. Gonzo's. Remember St. Gonzo's? I have gone there for many a meeting in the last few years and interviewed for a dream position. It's the position all my training, stress, and stomach acid prepared me for. When the offer was finalized, I could hardly believe my luck, blessing, and opportunity.

The job is huge. Massive. Way bigger than my experience prepares me for. But somehow, I know it's a good fit and that I will have a whole lot to keep me busy in the coming years. Honestly, I can't wait. A new city. Several new hospitals. New politics, new physicians, new employees. A new house. Again. Sigh!

It was very difficult breaking the news to my employees earlier this week. We've grown together and in some cases, grown up together. Yet, everyone seems happy that I have the opportunity to move on- but only verifying that my email and texting will still work in Indy. It makes me feel extremely humbled...I had no idea people leaned on me like this. I feel like this tiny part of something so much bigger than myself and we're all trying to advance the same Mission.

That's why I get out of bed each day. And when I'm leaving, it becomes even more concrete to me.

So, four weeks from today, I will lock my office door for the last time. I will bid my beloved employees and managers goodbye and throw one last joke my boss's way. I will walk out of Administration and drive out of the parking lot, thanking St. Fozzie's for the unbelievable experiences. I cut my managerial teeth at St. Fozzie's and the leadership team is second-to-none.

Yet, I will drive away and not look back. I'm getting rather practiced at this- leaving and only looking forward. The drill will be much the same: Jack will stay behind and sell our house and finish up his work commitments. I will go ahead to Indy, secure a residence, and start the new job. We'll enter into a commuter marriage again, but this time we know it is only for a few months and not a year like last time.

Wow. I could copy-and-paste the first 50 blog posts I wrote back in 2009.

Here's to the future...whatever terrifying and wonderful adventures await.


[It just makes me laugh that my last post on the blog was about normalcy. Ha!]

Laughing

I really wanted to entitle this post "Exhaustion" but thought better of it when I considered the concerned family and friends that would probably reach out to me in my vortex of terror and stomach acid. When I'm tempted to get REALLY annoyed or ticked, I force myself to laugh. Oddly, it usually works to dispel some of the annoyance.

I've been pounding the keyboard for the last couple hours, trying to dig out of Email Hades, while Jack's put on an acoustic guitar concert. "One," "I'm Yours," and "Hotel California" never sounded better- he finished HIS big go-live today and is celebrating his new found freedom from the confines of his office.

It's all about attitude, right? So instead of focusing on the litany of CRAP that happened today, I instead choose to focus on the funnies. I offer you this picture that my Diabetes Center manager randomly posted all over the Center on the same day we had our big go-live and a new doctor starting:



He added a little Post-it with "3" on it, suggesting that our last velociraptor attack was on Friday.

I was chatting with our IT support staff in the break room and one of them looked quizzically over my shoulder and asked, "Is that a dinosaur?" Thinking it was some announcement about Franciscan leadership or the annual HIPAA education, I shrugged it off. Walking through the practice, I saw three more dinosaur signs. Arriving back at my office (in a busy hallway of Administration, I might add), I saw another dino sign. I couldn't help it, I laughed until I cried.

I love how my great managers know when I'm really struggling and they somehow buoy me with laughter. Like the time another manager squeezed pixy stix under my office door and still another manager "pranked" me with a fake emergency that ended up being a surprise party. While it's risky, I like being vulnerable with these people; I think it's okay that they see the real me and see that I struggle with stuff, too.

It's the same with "the awesome people," the core group of directors at work who get each others' backs. As soon as I sent out the termination notices on Friday evening, I immediately had six directors call me and offer to do whatever they could to help. THAT is friendship.

That's why I am taking time out of the longest work day in recent history to record some of the gratitude I feel in a very dark, bleak, scary, and overwhelming situation. It's so overwhelming that my CNO gave me carte blanche to clear my schedule for the rest of the week so I can, well, not die. I only have 29 meetings this week, a road trip, and a presentation in front of all the system CEO's, COO's, CNO's and VPMA's next Tuesday at Muppet Corporate. It's been a dream of mine to present to that group and it's finally happening- but I'm too stressed to even worry about the presentation yet. Figure I can do that the night before!

It's all about optimism, right? I'm trying to keep a positive attitude about this whole situation with the manager I fired on Friday. He wrote a letter to a Board member, assassinating my character and leadership style. Every where I look, I find another deficiency in his work. I feel bad; this shouldn't have happened...but last time I checked, grown men didn't need babysitters.

I also chose to IGNORE the frustration and crap of Friday by working on ethics papers for 12 solid hours over the weekend. I had to write three ethics papers and I FINISHED decent drafts of them all. Another hour or two and I'm done. Halfway through this master's degree! That was enough to really lift my spirits; those papers were the biggest monkey on my back. My pastoral theology class is over and I'm now onto a Church history class studying the Ecumenical Councils and their effect on the formation of the Catholic credo. I'm technically a seminarian now and I have the option of buying a shirt that says something to the effect of "I study theology and I'm cool."

Theology IS cool...but so is forcing yourself to laugh when it matters most.

GREAT

This is my favorite quote for the YEAR. Maybe this decade. Isn't it funny how you get exactly what you need when you need it most?

I usually approach motivation in terms of perseverance, endurance, a little "just keep swimming" through the crap people throw your way. I tend to think of experience as something I get when I don't get what I really want.*

I recently returned from a lung-clogging conference in Chicago at the Four Seasons (no, not from the 110 degree heat index and smog combo, but because I've somehow come down with a bad case of bronchitis that progressed to walking pneumonia. Seriously? Who the HECK gets pneumonia in July when you're NOT 92 years old and in a nursing home? Sigh). This was one of those 'executive summits' where you find yourself brushing elbows with hospital presidents and system execs. Hey, at least they knew who I was- but that didn't stop me from feeling like the kid at the dinner table when they waved me over to join them at lunch on Tuesday. One half of the table discussed the neophyte accountable care organization and physician alignment. My half? Your favorite vacation memories and how much everyone hated the asparagus soup they served us.

Some conferences serve to reinforce what you know. They strengthen your resolve to advance patient safety and process improvement. Other conferences stretch every brain cell in your head and address high-level strategic planning techniques designed by nerdy PhD's so that you're left wondering how you can possible boil it down enough to do something with the knowledge at home.

I felt the temptation to feel beat down. Defeated. Young. Green. Outta my league.

[I really hope part of that temptation was from my July bronchial nightmare!]

However, I'd like to think those hospital presidents feel insecure sometimes, too.

[Right?]

Last month, my mentor told me to start thinking of myself as a top executive. If I don't project that image, they won't think of me as that either. However, several points are coming together, challenging me to NOT seek upward mobility as an end in itself. My Franciscan Leadership course, my pastoral theology class, and my friend "Joe" all said the same thing- that true, true leadership is not about upward mobility. It's about downward mobility- to serve your employees. To let them know you and your vulnerabilities. To let them forgive you when you make mistakes. And to reflect upon these experiences to discern God's hidden voice in all the mind-clutter of daily life.

True leaders abandon power and authority and focus on service. Power and authority are meaningless without a spirit of service behind them.

It's a HARD pill to swallow and a personal battle I have almost every day.

But when I attend events like this Summit in Chicago, I am unfortunately reminded of who I don't want to be. I don't want to be that seasoned exec, whom, when the young Dorrie strikes up a quick conversation, I dramatically check my watch. I don't want to be the exec who is sure to tell me about the national award he's receiving for operational excellence. I don't want to be that exec who name-drops to increase his own perceptions of his own importance.

Your ego doesn't impress me, buddy.

I'm not throwing stones here. Mistakes happen. But these actions seem to betray that sense of humility true leaders are called to embody. That's the tough part- I cannot plead ignorance and sometimes, it stinks!

However, I appreciate these conference experiences, the story-sharing with colleagues, and opportunities to eat our way across the city (Gibsons, Check! Jilly's, Check! Signature Lounge, Check!). All of these lessons add up to influence me for the better and for that, I'm grateful.



*That strike of brilliance wasn't me, I read that quote a while back and cannot recall the author. Ethics first!

Masks

"Real integrity is doing the right thing, knowing that nobody’s going to know whether you did it or not."

— Oprah Winfrey


In a week full of heated meetings with various directors, physicians, and VP's, this quote really struck me. Are we the same people all the time or do we put masks on when we want to be perceived in a certain way? In my own journey, this is something to which I aspire- to be the same person all the time, inside AND outside of work.

I used to talk about how I had several hats. My "home" hat, my "executive" hat, my "moral" hat, my "I'm a cool person, see?" hat. Etc.

It's time to consolidate the hats and stick with one "all-time" hat.

One of my colleagues provides a stellar example of this. We don't work for the same organization but our ongoing mergers often bring us together in difficult, high-stakes meetings. I watch her behave in these meetings and she just is who she is. There's no fluff, no masks, no ego. It's so refreshing and so weird.

I've got to learn how to do this.

Conveniently, this colleague and I go the same church and cross paths often in the community (you know, when you run out REALLY quickly for eggs and bread and you haven't showered yet after just going for a run and/or doing 2 hours of sweaty yardwork and see someone important? Yeah, like that). I took a risk and feeling like that geeky kid in middle school asking the designer jeans-wearing, popular, student council president to ride the school bus home with me, I invited my fascinating colleague to lunch.

I waited until I had an business reason to call her and then popped the question. She was gracious and lucky for me and my pride, immediately accepted.

It's funny, I'm not really sure how to make friends anymore. The friendships I have just sort of happened. There was no explicit effort involved; they just evolved. This was different, though, it was the first time in a long time I've seen someone in action and just wanted (needed?) to know how they do what they do. It was an interesting foray out of my comfort zone...but it would help if people operated with fewer masks and less pretending.

So that's what I'm going to work on next: dropping masks I know I wear and trying to expose those I'm not even aware I'm using. It might be geeky and I might be that unpopular kid still riding the school bus, but I don't care.

Purpose

Campaigning

I'm pretty sure I'm evil. And that I almost got punched the other day!

I've been running this political campaign to hire two wound nurses for the inpatient floors. Since we are closing the outpatient clinic, effective in April, I really *really* wanted to keep the nurses on staff for use on the floors. I created the job descriptions, submitted them to HR, figured out how to track their stats with finance, and went through the formal processes to get the positions approved.

And I waited.

And waited.

And started to get really frustrated. This is patient care we're talking about and we have numerous, documented business cases for these nurses.

So I started my campaign. I discussed the needs and the skills these two nurses bring to the table. I rallied nurse managers, directors, quality folks, and human resources. They all had my back. And yet, the positions were not being approved by the responsible VP.

After seven exhausting weeks of this, where the nurses were *this* close to leaving the hospital for jobs at neighboring hospitals, I called up my VP of Human Resources and point-blank told her, "I'm hiring the wound nurses tomorrow."

She laughed. Then said, "Fine with me!"

This was risky on my part. There's never been an unapproved FTE allowed at St. Fozzie's. Here I am hiring two.

I saw her that evening (Wednesday was a late night) and told her, "I'm doin' it!" She high-fived me as she walked out of the office. Seeing Elvis down the hall, I also told him I was offering the nurses positions the next morning. He didn't bat an eye and I thanked him for getting my back.

Then, in a fit of meanness, I stopped at the store to pick up a bottle of non-alcoholic champagne. When talking to the wound nurses during those seven terrible weeks, I promised them that, if I was able to offer them jobs, we'd crack open a bottle of champagne in my office.

I try to always keep my word.

Early that next morning, I summoned them both to my office. I made my voice sound flat and uninterested.

A few minutes later, they both appeared in my office doorway, looking like scared cats. I invited them to sit, then started quietly explaining how I tried to cash in all my political chips and even though it had been seven weeks, I was at a tough point. I let my voice trail off...

At that, they both started to cry, sure I was about to lower the hammer and tell them I could not hire them.

I quickly went all "Saturday Night Live" on them and in an excited rush, told them I would like to offer them jobs and I'd be honored if they stayed at St. Fozzie's!!

In the span of .034 seconds, their faces registered confusion, shock, and tremendous gratefulness. Then they both looked slightly ticked off that I played such a mean joke. Luckily, they know I'm a jokester at times and quickly forgave me.

The tears of fear changed to tears of happiness (both nurses are sole providers for their families). I triumphantly produced the bottle of fake champagne and over our 'clinking' of clear plastic cups, we started planning the future of inpatient wound care.

Finally. I was able to make a difference for the good and get patients the care they need. Plus, I get to keep my two favorite nurses; they will continue to report to me.

[I know management is a lot like having kids...you're really not supposed to have a "favorite." I'm controversial because I do have favorites and I might as well be honest with us both! The trick is to not let others know about your favorites and, ideally, everyone should feel like the favorite.]

During this process, I learned how to construct a political campaign, when to run my platform up the ladder when I hit a dead end, and when to disregard useless bureaucratic practices and pull a "Nike."

Just do it.

I just did it.

[Man, I hope my security badge and keys work on Monday!]

But next time, I'll consolidate my campaign and "just do it" a lot sooner.

Humbled

Long post alert. Go grab a sandwich and xanax. I'll wait for you.

**************

I had a bad couple of weeks.

There, I said it.

I pride myself on my uncanny ability to push through anything. I can work with the stomach flu. I can bulldoze through extreme exhaustion. I can push through seasonal affect disorder, just boning up on Vitamin D supplements and listening to Jimmy Buffet. I can email until my vision goes double from foggy contacts and I finally graduate to my glasses until my work is done.

Except that I really can't.

It's humbling to realize that you're a mere human and somewhere in between working a zillion hours and taking care of everyone and everything else, you suddenly realize that you're one breath away from walking away from everything and taking a job at the neighborhood Dairy Queen.

Okay, it's not that bad. But I haven't been completely honest with you- I have been struggling, using all my energy to put one foot in front of the other.

This past weekend, I drove to SB to spend time with my beloved aunt. Starving and on the expressway at dinnertime, I was overjoyed to find a candy cane in my glove box (it can't be *that* old, I bought my car in 2010).



Would it make it more palatable if I told you I had low blood sugar?!

Time with aunt was fabulous. She knows me better than my own mother and as a former executive, just gets it. She's one of my life coaches where I lay out my situation (positive or negative) and she gives me some objective wisdom befitting crystal ball status. This past weekend, after listening to my stories and delicately questioning me about work, she deduced that it was time for a change.

Racing back to Chicagoland on Saturday, I called my bestie Bewley for some friendly catching up. She is actually publishing a book about women executives and she reminded me to "play" more.

In an aptly-timed email, Nurse Starbucks offered to tutor me in massage therapy. In exchange for stock in Teavana and twice-daily dog-walking.

{Dog walking! My first client! Who hoo!}

As the weekend concluded, everyone's words rang in my head...is it really right that I'm working so hard and it continues to feel as though in vain? I tossed and turned all night, anxiously and spastically charting my week, meetings, and responses to political arguments that I will receive.

I didn't sleep a wink.

Before sunrise, per my usual routine, I showered and dove, headfirst, into a monster mug of coffee. But I couldn't face my 12-hour day, knowing I would finish the day with a longer to-do list than I started.

I'm so not a quitter. But I breathed a sigh of relief when Jack, studying my bloodshot eyes and panicked demeanor, reminded me that, in management, I get a degree of flexibility. So what if I stay home on Monday? He quickly offered that I could work on Saturday and he'd occupy himself, freeing me from the guilt of going in on a Saturday.

With that, I texted my boss that I was flexing my time and tuned into some Cities of the Underworld that I DVR'd over the last month.

The rest, as they say, is history. Two great friends (you know who you are) donated time out of their work days to pepper me with questions about why I'm doing what I'm doing. And what's truly going to serve God and not kill me or my spirit? Deep questions to which I still don't know the answers. But at least I now have the courage to ask them and fumble through the hodge podge of emotions they stir up.

My friend Vera then reminded me about her "hippie healer" that she sees in Kankakee (a long, stinkin' drive!). I called and, surprise, they had an appointment. So I embarked upon the journey to Hippie Hangout, which was really just an old-school chiropractor. Who played me some awesome acoustic guitar.

What, your chiropractor doesn't play the guitar for you?

This one was a wiry, old-school guy who, after relaxing you with some fabulous strings, cracks your back 18 ways from Sunday. So much cracked that it was sickening.

I saw stars. And not the Hollywood types. But...I can stand up straighter and feel far less pressure in my neck and shoulders.

I know, I know. I'm a skeptic of chiropractors, too. Maybe it was the guitar that won me over. But, in the words of the Monkees, I'm a believer.

The title of this post is "humbled" because that's how I feel this week. My friends' coaching and listening and relaying of general life wisdom was so uplifting these last few days. I'm humbled to have such great people in my life. I hope that I can return the favor someday and offer you all some of the same great perspective with which you've graced me.

Tomorrow's a new day.

Grateful

Life is so short.

I'm repeatedly reminded of this and oddly, not as often as you'd think. Yes, I work in a hospital and regularly hear things like "Code blue" and "Anesthesia, please report to the ER" paged over the intercom. You know people die every day, within the same walls of the same hospital that occupies your office.

Yet, it's pretty removed. The only time I hear about a specific death is if it's a community figure and it hits the paper or if it's a tragic death (and hits the paper). One time, my hospice unit misplaced a body and that was just fun. Don't worry, we found him immediately; the paperwork was not completed and routed correctly.

Anyway, my job is hard. Some mornings I drive to work with a pit in my stomach, uncertain of how I'm going to survive a given situation. Sometimes I dread work, knowing I have to make difficult decisions that are going to affect peoples' lives. But, I suddenly realized, this is probably as easy as I'm ever going to have it.

Y'know, unless I start that dog-walking service or become a professional surfer.

Not to belittle those two careers; I'm sure surfers have very specific stress about sharks eating them without them noticing.

It's probably not too different on Wall Street!

[I won't walk the dogs on Wall Street.]

So even though I chastise myself for not doing enough or that I could be doing things better, I'm still alive.

Which is more than I can say for one of my employees, who was just diagnosed with breast cancer AND had her brother drop dead yesterday. It really made me grateful for my life.

Let's all be grateful for our lives. If everyone we knew met around the perimeter of a football field and threw our problems in the middle of the field, we'd probably choose to go home with our own problems. Other people are dealing with so much more than we are. Let's be grateful for our problems because they're most likely better than someone else's!

Wine

So, apparently, I'm getting really good at telling people I'm taking away their jobs. I got to do it again today, with another one of my departments.

And I'm wondering if this is HR's underhanded plan to divest me of my position...if I keep selling and closing departments, *I* won't have a job either.

Hmmm.

[Scratches head?]

At least I'm employed today (and probably tomorrow). I talked to one of my colleagues today from a hospital system in Arizona. He's stellar and a leader in his field. He was offered a chief administrator position in Berkley and I'm not at all jealous. Nope. Not one bit.

Actually, I hear the cost of living in Berkley is quite high.

And that whole earthquake situation unhinges me anyway.

ANYWAY.

Together with EVOO (for new readers, that's my Chief Operating Officer), I told the manager of our in-house EMS that we're entering into an RFP process to seek out potential buyers for the service line. That means it's for sale.

It's like one of those "he said, she heard" situations.

For example:

He said: "Hey, that dress fits you differently than the last time you wore it."

She heard: "Hey, I'm surprised that dress still fits you with the way you've been indulging in mac and cheese lately!"

Or:

She said: "I'm so exhausted and have been running around like a freaking idiot all day and why doesn't ANYONE do their jobs anymore?"

He heard: "Bring me wine."

In this case today, it was more like:

She said: "We're entering into an RFP process to seek out a potential acquisition of the service."

He heard: "I need to update my resume."

Which isn't necessarily true. Good companies find a way to hold onto their great employees. So I'm cashing in some political chips to be able to keep him on staff. While I didn't lose sleep over this one nearly as much as the one where I had to lay people off, it's still awful to tell someone that we're selling their department. It makes them feel like objects and not people.

So that's my job here...to help them feel like people and that we will take care of them the best that we can.

Do the best you can with what you've got.

Now. Where's my wine?

Daisies

I'm taking a quick break from drafting my first paper for my Synoptics class. We are to research some element of Greco-Roman culture and explain how it influenced the formation of the Gospel of Mark in AD 70. I'm greatly enjoying this and am expounding upon the traditional Passover sedar and how it gives context to the Last Supper.

My blog posts this past week have been light. SO much happened at work, with ongoing meetings, operational reorganizations of departments, and ongoing HR issues. I had to write up one of my managers and it was not good. He actually cussed at me when I presented him with the reasoning for the write up and form to sign.

He's 59. It was like writing up my dad. Difficult, but necessary. It was a humbling experience because there's still so much I don't know about the HR side of things at work. I do know you probably shouldn't cuss out your boss, though, and that presented a whole other opportunity!

So it was a little hairy this past week, but I knew that another Franciscan Leadership retreat was coming up on Friday and Saturday. This is the one where they make us ditch our cell phones and pause enough to reflect on our duties as Christian leaders. The first retreat was very enlightening and relaxing and I couldn't wait to return to the convent for more sanctioned (required?) reflection and relaxation.

I left work early on Thursday to drive up to the convent, a two-hour drive. Exhausted from everything, I crashed early after enjoying the welcoming, hospitable snacks and beverages the Sisters left for us. The retreat started at 7 a.m. on Friday morning and lasted through 2 p.m. on Saturday. I'm not at liberty to say much about it (what happens at the convent stays at the convent!), but it was a tremendous, soul-baring experience.

All twenty of us were so exhausted and, well, spent after the retreat. There was a lot of intimate Bible exegesis, small group sharing, and introductions to various types of prayer- everyone is getting to know each other well and feel comfortable sharing personal details from their journeys. If you've ever been on a really good retreat, you know the feeling well...you need to go home, have a stiff drink, and then sleep for 14 hours straight!

The retreat ended with a poignant reflection. Each participant was asked to take a flower from a plate of carnations and daisies and a small square of glass.

We were asked to first examine the glass. What do you see through the glass? Everything. What is hidden? Nothing. We are being called to live like the glass does...totally transparent and honest. Actions should match words. Walk the walk. Don't withdraw from the integrity bank. Etc.

Then we were asked to study the flowers we chose from the plate. I grabbed a small, purple daisy. When I studied it in depth, I thought to myself, "Man, this flower is wilting and is probably dying...what a bad omen for my career in leadership!" Its petals were small, the leaves on the step tiny. The flower was on its way to Flower Heaven.

Then I studied it closer. I noticed that the petals and leaves weren't dying, but that they hadn't really sprouted yet. The petals were small, yet firm. They had not reached out all the way yet and needed more time for growth. Same with the tiny leaves on the stem...Curling with a firm, dark green color, the leaves had a lot of potential. With a little nurturing, sunshine, and water, they could sprout into something beautiful. However, at the time, the purple daisy was small and not trying to be a full-grown daisy yet. It was just being its own self- small, developing, and still a little green. And that was okay with the little daisy.

I still feel way, entirely out of my league. I have no idea what I'm doing with this group of people. However, there couldn't have been a better daisy for me. I'm still young, green, and developing. I need time and experience to become that full-grown daisy. But, for right now, it's okay to be the undeveloped, young daisy and be at peace with my station in life right now.

Every flower has to grow through dirt. Every flower needs time to develop and grow.

A LONG Weekend

This past weekend ushered in a lot of emotions and feelings I'm not quite sure how to process. This post is more for me than it is you.

It all started on Friday, with the terrific retreat I had with corporate leadership. It actually takes place on the convent grounds and it's so beautiful. I woke up to the first decent snowfall of the season and after a couple hours of white-knuckled travel, I actually started to relax (cue the stress let-down migraine!). Our group of 20 from around the system will come together for two days a total of ten times over the next two years. I was honored to even be considered for the program and stoked when, after the opening prayer service, they collected our blackberries and iphones. They wanted us to unplug and they meant it!

[I went into a quick, sweaty panic attack for I hadn't put my "out of office" notice up on Outlook.]

The whole point of the program is to get to know your peers in the group via classroom time together, communal eating, and fellowship. They're trying to make us stakeholders in the mission of Muppetville, so we continue the traditions in an era of declining religious vocations. I'm in so far over my head, as the youngest and lowest ranking in the group. There's one other younger woman in the group, who was on the Boca conference as well, and we're really bonding.

She rocks. She's one of those power women. And I will call her Ra. As in "she Ra."

The whole first day was used to break open the group and get people talking. Then we had a happy hour with a full bar followed by a stunning dinner with seabass and prime rib. The food was amazing and we intermingled with nuns and religious at meals (what was that vow of poverty? Does that not include prime rib?). Then I went where no woman has gone before...I played Euchre with the Mother Superior of the entire convent.

How freaking neat is that?!

But we lost. She was my partner and apparently her record is, like, 204-1. Make that 204-2! I hope this doesn't damage my chances of promotion within the system!

Seriously though, after Day 1, my head felt full and I felt so insecure. I don't have problems understanding philosophy and Thomistic roots of the Catholic liturgy, but I feel insecure because I have a mere fraction of the life experience of the others. I inwardly wondered what I could possibly have to offer the others in our group discussions. I decide that I wasn't going to self-select out and disengage, asking questions anyway. I think it's a matter of emotional intelligence; I'm still thinking about "me" when others are thinking "us."

Ra and I pow-wowwed for a couple hours Friday night and talked through our similar reactions to Day 1. I felt better after talking to her and we immediately agreed to put a standing meeting on our calendars where we could safely discuss our fears, questions, and victories.

I barely slept that night, keyed up from the day's activities and anticipating Zibby's wedding the next day. Day 2 of the retreat was better than day 1; we discussed metaphorical theology's interpretations of paternalistic models and paradigms and worked through philosophies of paradigm-shifts (that's fancy for "change management"). We discussed the history of monastic traditions and how healthcare evolved from those organizations. These utterly geeky subject matter excited me for my first theology class in my resumed-degree...Synoptic Gospels. I have a sneaking suspicion that this program and my classes are going to go hand-in-hand.

God has a sense of humor like that.

Anyway, I left the retreat and went straight over to my folks' house to dress for the wedding. Exhausted from the outstanding experiences and mind candy, I launched into adrenaline mode for the wedding. We arrived and I almost didn't recognize my brothers, Brady and Zibby. Both looked stunning. Both looked grown-up. And I felt old. Time marches on.

The wedding was pretty quick, albeit very nice, and Zibby married Libby. They're young, stupid, and penniless. But so were Jack and I when we got married, so I couldn't really cast stones at the young couple. My mom was a wreck and she squeezed my hand into numbness during the ceremony. Then Zibby asked Mom to dance during the mother/son dance and everyone in the family had red eyes as they swayed to "Unforgettable."

You know how some distinct experiences immediately over-write any preconceived memories you may attach to a song? That's how it was with "Unforgettable." It'll always be Zibby and Mom's song now.

As an afternoon wedding, it wrapped up early and my aunts and uncles hung around the hall, wondering when the party would start (like any good Pollack). A few of us shared stories and margaritas, trying to digest the fact that little Zibby is now a husband and father with his own family and home.

That night, Jack sacked out in my folks' recliner while Mom and I sat on the couch and listened to my dad and Brady rehash the wedding. Next thing I knew, I felt dad lightly covering mom and I up with a blanket and flipping off the light. I can't remember the last time she and I napped on each others' shoulders...probably when my grandma passed away some 12 years ago.

We knew we had to stay the night. It was Zibby's first official night out of the house. His empty room hit us all squarely in the gut. It was real. He was gone. And that was the first time I experienced empty nest syndrome...and I haven't lived in that house since I was 18! I couldn't even imagine the pain my folks felt with his absence. It felt natural to stay over and give them one more night with a full house.

In my mom's words, a full house is a full heart.

And so we stayed.

The morning came quickly and Jack and I departed for our own home. The weekend left me unsettled and uniquely overwhelmed....yet, oddly at peace. It was as though one chapter is ending and another beginning.

And I'm going to be okay!

Quote Journal: 97%

"Only three percent of adults have written goals, and everyone else works for them."

— Brian Tracy

Love this quote and it lives in my email as a permanent draft item. I've been working my tail off this week and aside from one emergency call to my friendly neighborhood-administrator-turned-mentor, everything's been great. And it's time to get that next round of goals into writing!

I finished my reorganization of three departments today and feel as though I emerged from the tunnel of disdain seemingly unscathed. The people I offered the new positions to took them. And the managers I've been coaching are up to the task of helping their employees succeed in their new roles. This is a good thing and no one questioned anything--not even EVOO or Elvis. I told them I would keep going until they told me to stop. EVOO just laughed at me. I have a feeling the end is NOT in sight. But that's okay; every prize is worth the fight.

Just keep swimming.

Whoa!

In the words of Joey Lawrence, "Whoa!"

I'm not quite sure where this week went. I kept peeling myself out of bed every morning to attack the goals and issues at hand...and I was one tired pup by last night after FINALLY having my work week conclude at 9 pm on a Friday night.

Quick recap of the great things from the week:

On Monday, I left work "early" at 4pm to come home and work on my ethics paper. After approximately 40 hours of work on the paper, I'm proud to say I have a rough draft complete!

Tuesday was fun because it crystallized how I was going to reorganize and restructure a group of core functions and accreditation items. I pitched the idea to Nurse Jackie in a proposal and she accepted it. VERY excited about this!

On Wednesday, I had an optimism-sustaining dinner with the president of one of our sister hospitals. Elvis hooked me up with her (I will call her Liz) as an in-system mentor. I left work to make our 6:00 p.m. on time and felt jilted when I was sitting in the fancy steakhouse's parlor alone, at 6:08. Giving it a few more minutes, I saw her dash up the stairs. Whew! Not jilted by the first woman president I had the pleasure of meeting personally.

Dinner was magnificent. The stuff of Lifetime movies and Stephen Covey books. We connected intimately on shared stories, similar experiences, paralleling personalities, and even...the same model and color cars. It was as if I caught a glance of myself twenty years down the line. That is, if I am blessed enough to have similar opportunities and never-ending motivation. We sat there and three hours went by as if it were 20 minutes and I gained a perspective I previously hadn't had. It was EXACTLY what I needed to keep pedaling forward.

The week closed out with a mixed bag on Friday. I helped facilitate the next round of Lean classes. The first class went really well and I was proud of our presenters who struggled to overlearn the material to serve as outstanding presenters. Things fell apart in the second class, where several managers canceled or didn't show. We progressed with class anyway and used the small-group forum for focused Q&A...but I never want the presenters to feel as though others don't value their work. I put a call into my beloved VP of HR to help me deal with the blazing accountability issues.

The day turned around when Jack and I attended a graduation ceremony for our medical residents and fellows at one of the local country clubs. This is the post-doctoral program, where the D.O.'s and M.D.'s get their practical training in their specialty of choice. They were all in their late 20's or early 30's (some in their mid-30's) having been in school their ENTIRE lives. So it was a big deal. And I passed out a ton of free drink vouchers on behalf of the hospital, encouraging the young physicians to have a good time. They did. And we split because it was quickly approaching 9 p.m. and I was seeing mirages of my bed!

All in all, I grew this week and gained some perspective. I'm still learning to take the good with the bad and power through it anyway...people never cease to amaze me with their own determination and perseverance. You know what they say, 'every flower has to grow through dirt!'

Circles of Candles

I'm blogging instead of attending to the legal notebook sitting besides me, full of ideas, things to address/discern/figure out, assignments, things to delegate, things to check up on that I have previously delegated, etc. Seriously, it's full.

And I'm tired. I am not going to use this blog to whine or to passively-aggressively beat around the bush of my life. That doesn't help either of us.

I'm still willing myself to be happy and grateful. Happiness is a choice and to be honest, I've been quite deflated lately. It's just taking a lot more energy to attend to my ever-growing list of responsibilities and chores and joys.

Yes, joys. I'm doing everything I can to shelter that internal candle flame and refuse to let it be snuffed out.

I'm from that psychological school of thought where I do a lot of things for recognition. I've blogged about this before, that it's a taproot that I'm forever trying to uproot from the core of my being. It's a spiritual battle that I don't hide. As I continue my career with a Catholic healthcare organization, I truly feel as though I should be working to further God's work in the world. God's work. Not Dorrie's work. I should also be working for God's greater glory. Not Dorrie's greater glory.

Sounds fun, eh?

Going to fancy meetings and driving a nice car and having the latest iPod/iPad/iPhone/iThing isn't going to give me joy. But living a life ordered toward the service of others will. So, even though I make more sacrifices for others now than I did before I took this job, I have a long way to go in the selflessness department.

I keep trying, though, to put aside my own needs for feedback and recognition and focus on my staff. For example, last week, one of my rockstar medical assistants went to her manager and told her she needed to leave. She was offered $2/hour more to do the same job 20 minutes closer to her home. She's a meek little thing that has the work ethic of a Puritan and her integrity is never sacrificed. So I went to bat for her, writing up a proposal for HR and requesting that we expand her job description to justify a salary increase.

The job description actually fit her better AND fit the pay she requested. The result? She stayed with us, she's had her faith in the organization renewed, and she's on fire again, positively infecting everyone around her.

Three managers came to me this week, asking for help in their specific areas. Some get confused with HR issues, some need empowerment because they've been beaten down too many times in the past, and some just need to know someone cares. I rounded on one of my departments last week and when I asked one of the front office coordinators how things were going, she immediately teared up and said, "there's nothing you can do anyway."

The next day, I caught her during a slow time and we chatted. Surprise, all she wanted was someone to listen to her and appreciate her. She had some terrific ideas on how to improve the department and there WAS something I could do about it.

Sometimes I think we can scrap the management tomes and textbooks if we just listen to our employees. They know what's going on and wonderful things can happen if their voices are heard and they feel appreciated.

It circles back to me...because *I* don't feel appreciated or as though my voice is necessarily heard, I want to afford my staff this honor even more. But as employees genuinely begin to trust and want to improve, everyone's happier and more productive.

Weirdly, this is filling my tanks right now in the absence of feedback from my own bosses. Even more surprisingly, I am discovering the joy of this type of service. Service to others CAN be fun. And it strengthens the candle's light.

Clouds

The blog has fallen off my radar. Life has taken over. But I like to record some of my adventures for later reflection.

So since Easter, I've been in a world of confusion and my head's been in a cloud. Work has been, well, awful. I achieved the promotion I've been seeking for the last couple months, the promotion that has been promised to me by Nurse Jackie and EVOO. A few months ago, seeing me eager to excel, Elvis asked me which departments I wanted to run. So I brainstormed a few things and presented my thoughts to Elvis. Then I told EVOO. Then EVOO told Nurse Jackie. And voila, I got my departments. My new FTE's amount to 64.5, bringing my total to 131.5.

I've come a heck of a long way. And I've managed to manage my nine managers and their staffs. I keep uncovering problems (some days are like "Whack-a-Mole") but I am having fun. I love my job and have been praised by several VP's for my efforts and outcomes. This is great.

However, I found myself in a political minefield. I learned of my promotion when one of my new direct reports asked to speak with me regarding a problem he's having in his department. He needs advice. Me, feeling the deer-in-headlights blush creep up my neck, played along as though I knew this was now my department. Turns out that my superiors told the manager before they told me. This is bad. Not only was it unprofessional, but they took away my bargaining chips. See, without a formal offer, you cannot negotiate for a new title or pay increase.

Skip the formal offer and you skip the negotiation phase for titles and salary. Great for them. Bad for me. I accepted the assignment but in the same breath, asked that they at least reconsider my title. It's not about the money, but with my FTE's doubled, a title should be the least they do.

Nope. Neither of my bosses waivered. They said they cannot change my title without re-evaluating everyone's titles. That's the political minefield part.

So I did what any sensible woman would do. I ran to the only other woman I trust in senior leadership, the VP of HR. She has become quite a friend and helped hook me up with a formal mentor, the president of St. Benson's hospital in Muppetville (this president is a woman, the only non-Sister senior administrator in the system). Anyway, my dear friend, the HR lady, is going to bat for me. I have no idea how this one will turn out, but I am forcing myself to be optimistic.

There's a lot of change going on in the hospitals right now and I'm only a small part of it. So I would rather have my problems then someone else's!

(That's optimism, right?)

So that's how I'm really feeling. And I'm not giving up yet!

Japan

I feel so distraught over the recent events in Japan. The earthquakes, the tsunamis, and now the nuclear meltdown...

I feel like I'm watching the world's worst reality television.

May God be with them.