I Think I Can, I Think I Can...

I have a very strange feeling of peace that's recently settled over me. Sometime Tuesday, I must have turned the corner again. I wasn't nervous for my presentation, I wasn't nervous for the always-harrowing drive downtown, and I just knew things would work out. Either my mind has completely shut down and is trying to protect me from the stress of this job…or maybe…just maybe, I'm adjusting. My shoulders feel lighter, my outlook seems brighter, and I just don't feel the same impending doom I've been experiencing since New Years. It was a very stressful six weeks, among the most stressful of my entire professional career and perhaps I've subconsciously realized that I made it.

I've made it out of the slimy pit, out of the mud and mire.

And good catch, that's from Psalm 40. I don't know all the Psalms to be able to quote them like that. But Psalm 40 is also a U2 song! If anyone out there in the blogosphere has been praying for me, THANK YOU. The peace I feel right now is palpable and it enables me to faithfully face anything coming toward me in my future.

I see a light at the end of the tunnel. The light is getting brighter. I feel like I just might survive this year. I just hope the "light" isn't a steaming locomotive headed through the tunnel, barreling towards me!

On Deck

When I started little league, I was still a shy kid. I was athletic as a kid (hello, tomboy!), but I didn't know all the rules to softball yet. As a result, I played the outfield most of my first summer....for anyone who knows 7-8 year old girls know they rarely hit it out of the infield. This was okay with me, because I learned the game.

I got over that outfielder position and quickly graduated to first base, short stop, and pitcher. I liked being pitcher...I liked controlling the pace of the game. Yeah, I know, my control issues go back that far!

Anyway, I was not a good hitter that first summer I played softball. I was tall, and therefore gave the opposing pitcher a decent-sized strike zone. I didn't know when to swing and usually ended up squinting my eyes shut and blinding swinging when I sensed a good pitch was coming. I never had my eye on the ball that first year and any hit was purely by accident.

I eventually learned the wrist-rolling techniques to slap-hit grounders, the attraction to low-and-outside pitches that I could smack out of the park, and to resist swinging on a 3-0 count unless the pitch was perfect.

Nonetheless, that first summer of eyes-closed hitting scarred me. I was *so* nervous as I waited in the batters' box while the hitter before me tried her luck and skill against the pitcher. I'd practice, observe, and generally fret. What would I do if I made the last out of the inning or (gasp!) the game? Would they all dislike me? Would I fester over letting my team down? When you're 8 and still learning how to wield a bat, being the next hitter on deck is terrifying!

So fast-forward to 2010, twenty-some odd years later. I'm on deck again, but this time, I'm not swinging at things with my eyes closed. While I've often FELT like I'm a blindfolded, newbie hospital administrator, crazily swinging at pinatas in the sky, I think I've gathered a fair bit of experience as to when I should focus my gaze and keep my eyes on the target. However, it's still scary being on deck for several big events this week.

I will be attending the annual Medical Executive Committee retreat on Wednesday and Thursday. And I'm speaking at this event; I have a whole hour to fill with the wonders of stroke, the stroke order sets we've slaved over for weeks now (I have had some really messed-up dreams about those stupid order sets and know way more than I care to know about Neurological intervention for emergent stroke patients!). I'm sharing my knowledge with a group of doctors and from what I hear, it'll be a CME. As in, a continuing medical education credit for the docs.

The hospital is putting me (and Jack) up in a lavish room at the Four Seasons. Jack will join me in the late afternoon (I speak from 3-4pm CST on Wednesday) after my speech and we will join the 50-60 physicians and administrators for a dinner in the Signature Lounge, the 95th floor of the Hancock. This is the same lounge I begged Jack to escort me to a few months ago. Except that this time, we get to EAT. For FREE. Score!

So after cocktail hour and dinner, we'll get to enjoy the 5 star comfort of the Four Seasons. I have no idea what to expect; while I certainly prefer stately hotels, I think the nicest place I've ever stayed in was the Palace Tower of Caesar's Palace in Vegas. And that was only because Jack paid off the front-desk lady when we arrived!

After another six hours of meetings on Thursday, the group will be dismissed for four whole hours of down time (make that, prep time!) in the city before the First Look for Charity begins at McCormick Place. I'm very excited to waltz around the designer cars, sipping champagne, with Jack on my arm! I will be sure to post neat pictures of these next few days.

Until then, pray for me that I don't crash in this snowstorm. Every time I check the weather, they increase the forecasted snow amounts!

Sigh. I can't think of a better place to be snowed in. Except, of course, my fancy black heels for Thursday night are OPEN-TOE!

The Colors Test

I just clicked on this on Yahoo! news and took this test in about 20 seconds. It's fun and weirdly accurate for me.

The link: http://www.careerpath.com/career-tests/colorcareercounselor.aspx

My results: You're an ORGANIZER.

Keywords: Self-Control, Practical, Self-Contained, Orderly, Systematic, Precise, and Accurate.
(I'm not so sure about the self-control bit, but whatever!).

The first job it said I'd be hardwired for? Administrator!

Acceptance!

After months of attending the monthly, highest-level physician practice administrators' meetings at Beakergroup, Dr. Sails finally recognized me as a participant in this meeting. Dr. Sails, a former president of the group and well-respected physician in the institution, is one of the "old school" guys who tends to respect men and relegate women to the home. He's foreign and I suspect there are some cultural ruminations there. In the meetings I've attended, I've been the only woman in the boardroom.

Each and every time.

Anyway, I saw Dr. Sails in the hallway in the CardioVascular building today and as he passed me, he said, "So, you're coming to the meeting tonight, right? I'll see you there?!"

I *did* attend that meeting. In fact, I canceled plans I had with my fellow Fellow friends in downtown Chicago tonight, so I could attend this meeting. Again, I was the only woman in that boardroom tonight, but I owned it!

Little victories, people. Little victories!

Writing 101

It's early Saturday morning and I'm sitting at my dining room table in SB, sipping gourmet coffee and listening to peaceful instrumentals. The sun is shining through the window and I'm eternally grateful for the burst of blue sky and unbroken rays of sun streaming through my window. Sunshine! I feel *so* much better. It almost looks like a nice day out there, except for the howling winds I occasionally hear, reminding me that, despite the sun, it's really still an Antarctic wasteland out there.

At least it's pretty.

So I'm sitting here, glancing at the mess we created last night. Jack's still sleeping from our heavy exploits, I think I pulled something in my back, and I feel wondrously accomplished.

Yeah, it wasn't THAT kind of night. Get your mind out of the gutter.

I edited Jack's first collegiate paper in 12 years. He kept warning me that it was terrible and it decidedly wasn't terrible...just not structured all that well. To complicate matters, this was a group paper (which I hate and think profs are crazy for assigning) and none of the group members could write much of anything. Seriously, people quoted Wikipedia and About.com as sources. Where I come from, the professor will fall out of her chair, convulsing in ear-splitting laughter before marking "RE-WRITE!" on the paper.

Anyway, we sat at the dining room table for 5 hours (explaining my spasming back) and worked. First, I told Jack to not take anything I say personally. I'm not trying to hurt his feelings in this writing lesson. With that, I taught him Writing 101. Years ago, I created a process for successful writing and shared these tips with anyone with whom I've had to write these last few years. I explained these 11 rules to Jack. I figure, I've spent about $140,000 on my education so far; someone might as well benefit from all those dollars!

After going through The Rules, I asked Jack to puh-lease find some decent sources. He grunted and signed and eventually found noteworthy sources. Over the next 3 hours, we went through the paper, redefining its structure, aligning content, then perfecting grammatical and punctuation errors. It was only a 2000 word paper, but it served as a great place to start. We even created a paradigm for Jack to use on subsequent papers.

I didn't mind helping Jack last night. It proved an interesting and thorough distraction from my stress at the hospital. Without someone helping ME like that when I started at Saint Mary's, I would have been lost in the art of proper paper-writing. However, he *totally* owes me a good back rub!!!

Time Bomb

The last few days have *really* tested my strength. I worked 40 hours just between Sunday and Tuesday; by the time Wednesday rolled around, I was a mess of nerves, knots, and just yuck. I left my all-day meeting at St. Animal's and drove home to SB...

Where Jack showed his undying love for me by taking me out for dinner and letting me vent over a much-needed glass of vino. It was a great break, but it just delayed the inevitable. For me, the inevitable was reading 70 pages of intensive stroke literature by which I was to compare the newest versions of our standing order sets to clinical pathways of treatment. While I have no idea how to explain the etiology of stroke, I can compare the order sets to what the government recommends!

Despite my best efforts, we may only get one order set before the Medical Executive Committee next week. It's the primary set, but still, instead of three brand new sets, we may only have one. And that's only because my partner in crime, Peppermint Patty, got the stomach flu and couldn't do the five hour teleconference on Friday as we planned.

Why a teleconference? Because I was at Muppet Corporate for a meeting on Thursday. It was a systemwide Quality Council meeting and while it's very informative, I don't get broken down the same way I used to. Either I'm getting used to this caliber of meeting or the content is less serious. Hopefully it's the former! Nurse Jackie presented our SBAR activities to the group and she even mentioned me by name for the support I've given the project. Those little mentions go a long way for me.

Regardless, it's hard returning to Muppet Corporate. Even though I spent six years there, it feels like a short, passing phase in my life. Some people haven't changed one bit. People park in the same parking spots. They sit in the same places in the breakroom. It's weird for me to return; the pace of my life seems as though nothing will ever be routine ever again. It's like when you go away to college after your high school years. You read about your high school in the newspaper and think, "Wow, things continue to happen at my high school even though I'm gone? You mean, the world hasn't stopped just because I've left?"

Yeah, I think egocentric things like that, too. At least I realize it and try to uproot it! If anything, it adds wisdom to my perspective, right?

Anyway, at Corporate, some people blow me off completely and ask me why I'm back...while others ask me 39 questions about my life, job, and new environment. It's a mixed bag. I while I answer only to myself these days, I shudder when I think back to that hourly mentality I had only a year ago.

Since then, I've thrown aside all preconceived notions of the work week. If I need to work on nights and weekends, so be it. If I have the five hour teleconference on a Saturday (to squeeze it in and accomplish what I need to accomplish),so be it. I'm in a different place and whenever I return to Corporate, it reminds me of how far I've come and how much I've changed in nine short months.

It's a rebirth of sorts.

Don't worry, I'm still trying to grapple with the work/life balance and I realize that without proper down-time, I could remain a ticking time bomb!

Jay and Silent Bob

So is it a bad sign when you're leaving the office at 7pm on a Tuesday, and the security guard who usually checks on you says, "Leaving work early, eh?"

Yes, the security guards check on me. I'm often the last one left in Administration and the executive offices are right off the main lobby. They also insist on walking me (or driving me) out to my car if I'm alone. St. Fozzie's is in a bad part of southern Chicago and it's well-known that white women do not walk around by themselves after dark.

Sometimes, though, I used to feel ornery and try to take off by myself. It never failed, one of the security guards would catch up to me and walk with me. I gave up and got used to this protective service. As a result, I'm getting to know them pretty well.

For instance, Jay works second shift on Monday, Tuesday, and Thursday. M and T are almost always late nights for me. I'm lucky if I get out of there by 8pm. I call security for my regulatory escort and Jay walks me out to the parking lot. Jay is married, has two kids, and co-owns a dog-grooming company. He talks and talks and has an opinion about most things.

Silent Bob works on Wednesday and Friday. He's the nicest guy around. A big, burly African American guy, he'd take a bullet for anyone and in a former life, probably served as bodyguard for Britney Spears. Or maybe the President. Bob is married with grown children. He isn't one for small talk and takes his job very seriously.

I feel safe and appreciate that Security takes my safety so seriously. Yes, I'm a young administrator who's probably an easy target (skirts, heels, lots of bags and purses) in a bad neighborhood. It makes me feel special that they're so protective over me! I'm sure EVOO put them up to this, but I still appreciate it!

Overgrown Squirrel

I forgot yesterday was Groundhog's Day until I flipped by the movie of the same name while on the elliptical machine last night at the gym. We all know that the meterological predictions of overgrown squirrels are not of world importance. Or are they? If the groundhogs can start (reliably) predicting El Nino patterns, terrorism attacks, or the outcome of the SuperBowl (If I see my shadow and get scared, Manning will throw three touchdown passes. If I don't see my shadow, he'll throw FOUR), I will start heeding his advice.

For now, I will hunker down for another 84 weeks of winter because that's just what we get in Chicago. So happy belated Overgrown-Squirrel-Who-Can't-Even-Predict-El-Nino Day!

A Cardinal Reality

I cashed my reality check this morning. After a terrible day yesterday, I tossed and turned in bed, cursing the sleep that took hours to wash over me. Usually, I'm one of those gals whose head hits the pillow and she's out like a light until the two alarm clocks spew forth their audio assault that announces a new day.

Anyway, I crawled out of bed, dreading the impending doom of my day. I tried to psychologically prepare myself for the day while jamming to "Crazy Train" and "Welcome to the Jungle" on the way in, but I still felt just awful and pitiful. That is, until I turned into the parking lot and noticed the Cardinal Health semi pulling in behind me. The Cardinal Health semi is a piece of my past life at Muppet Corporate (I ordered all of St. Fozzie Cardinal products for years). The semi appears at very strange times. Or maybe I just notice it more when I'm down and out. Regardless, it was a great reality check...I'm HERE, not in the former life at Muppet Corporate. My attitude instantly changed and I felt refreshed, albeit briefly!

EVOO is on vacation and I was given *all* the meetings to lead today (five in total). I went in at 6 a.m. to make sure my ducks were in a row. As it was, I only had about 8 minutes to spare after my prep time. I got it all done, made great progress on the stroke protocol (the order sets are another fiasco, one which I will be fixing tomorrow while I'm at St. Animal's for Six Sigma training....they're teaching us how to graph in Excel and I think I can slack off and work in the back of the room!)

I also received two awesome pieces of news today (which also served as silver linings for me). The Cardinal Foundation grant was accepted and they requested a full proposal of our project. Of the 2,000+ applications they received, we were one of 100 chosen. Not the greatest odds, but I'm thrilled my hard work paid off.

And as I was rifling through the stacks of articles, notes, folders, and mail on my desk this afternoon, Elvis popped in and told me Jim Henson is sending four of us to a class in NYC....two CEO's and two brand-new hospital newbies. I'm thrilled but also sort of mystified as to why I get this opportunity. I'm not questioning it, though, as I'm not usually one to turn down education!

Blogging the next two weeks may be scant...I'm all around the system and in downtown Chicago for a couple days. *This* officially marks the beginning of my crazy travel season!

I Need a Gun

Today was awful. I worked in hyper-speed for the first two hours, attended six straight meetings, then pulled my HAIR out as we aligned the standing order sets for stroke. All five of them. In the fine tooth-combing we did, we found such inconsistencies as "Do not insert foley cath" and two pages later, it would say "Insert foley cath or straight cath."

Huh?

And then it would say "NPO until swallow studies and speech evaluation" and then "administer soft diet at next meal."

Double huh?

"Call physician if blood glucose is greater than 150 mg/dl x 2 consecutive or less than 70 mg/dl" and "call physician if blood glucose is greater than 140 mg/dl or less than 50 mg/dl."

You get the idea.

It just got slap-happy as me, Peppermint Patty (CV Service Line Director), the two Nursing Directors, and the Nurse Educator laughed about the stupidest inconsistencies. And then Patty was organizing some nursing assessment items by bullet point. She said "Bullet point here!...Bullet...Bullet...[pause]..."

She then asked, "Okay, three bullets and now what do we need?"

I suggested, "A gun?"

And with that, we laughed until we finished the Mocha Starbucks and chocolate-covered pretzels! We stayed so late that Security had to escort us out of the hospital because we left after the main entrance had closed.