Peterson Family Update, Oscar Charlie Tango 2343

Things have been hella busy lately, but not necessarily in a bad way.  They are, however, hella busy in a way that I'm only able to take things in pieces at the moment, which means it's a brilliant time to deploy the bulleted list once again!

• Nutritionist meal plan is still going well. My anxiety around meal planning has decreased immensely and my body is adjusting to different macros and their appropriate portion sizes.  Now that the hypervigilance is continuing to recede, I think I actually feel...pretty good.  A few of my data points are moving in a good direction, too.  I also have not eaten out much since I started this, which is good in its own way.  
• Andy and I are still enjoying rock climbing and the last couple of times I have had some really good climbing days, where I felt I had more gas in the tank than I had previously and subsequently was able to complete a couple of routes that I have been projecting.  We have all learned so much since we started in May, and it's neat to see that progress in something tangible, tackling routes that seemed completely impossible just a few months before.  
• With the last Peterson Family Update, I announced that Andy's position had been eliminated from Rivian.  He has been spending a lot of his severance package time traveling, tackling house projects, the aforementioned rock climbing, and otherwise reacquainting with parts of himself.  
  

• Luna is still a delightful fluffbutt.  She hasn't mastered my attempt at covering her eyes as a trick called "Eclipse," but leans on her side and paws up a bit so that you can move them up to her eyes, so that's a start.  
• Work has been tough lately.  Our current patient population has a lot of confused bodies for one reason or another, which means there are places where logic and reasoning don't apply.  I am solidifying some successful boundaries with a few of these instances.  Sometimes calling security is a way to stop things from escalating rather than waiting for them to escalate past a point--arguing with a patient can be more far agitating than calmly following through with putting them physically back in bed, following through on the choices that have been outlined.  I have wasted forty-five minutes attempting to convince people that cannot understand reasoning--there's no need to continue an unproductive conversation to this degree.  I pick my battles differently; I give choices where I can but not at the expense of anyone's safety.  
• Mike has been continuing in his coursework at Heartland.  We've talked about bones and the like a few times, and I'm trying not to get too pedantic in certain spaces.  
• Absolutely loving the fall weather lately--took an excellent trip to Starved Rock with some friends to catch up, see the foliage, and have a lovely walk.  
  

• The new sofa and chairs we had bought before hearing about Andy's job change arrived and we have rearranged our downstairs accordingly--it's neat to have a new perspective and see our space in a different light.  
• Andy is still sorting through what his next steps might be, but in the meanwhile our health insurance is still covered until the end of the calendar year.  Health insurance plans might sound great until we factor in a Tier 6 medication, in which case I focus only on the max out-of-pocket to compare one plan against another.  I have been managing a lot of spreadsheet action regarding health insurance and starting to look at other employers for different plans.  It's a shitty reason to have to leave my current job, but this is about survival and we'll do what we have to do.  It's a raw but real truth.  I will continue to feel unsettled until we both have coverage lined up for January.  
  

We cannot seem to do big life choices one at a time in our household.  I met some delightful folks at Big Brother Carle through the Ostomy Care Associate class I took who happened to mention that their wound clinic was looking for people.  

I got into nursing specifically to be a wound/ostomy nurse—my heart is in ostomy, with the ingrained compassion from my own experience; my brain, however, is intrigued by wound and the different problem-solving that entails.  I submitted for a transfer that will officially start mid-November.  My plan is still to pick up some weekends on MOSU, but otherwise I'll be commuting for a Monday through Friday, 0800-1700.  This way, I can simultaneously further my ultimate professional goals, keep the relationships I have, while also making some additional money to supplement a higher need insurance plan for my situation.  

I'm still very much feeling the season of change ramifications.  And I'm also optimistic toward the new adventures ahead.

Sound and Space

So, the cold fronts moving through as the change of seasons has been a bit of a different kind of wallop on me this year.  Normally I get a bit of a cold when the weather starts turning, just a week or so of sinus drainage and lamenting all of the moments that I had been able to breathe easily through my nose and then it's done.  This year, though, I completely lost my voice.  Just...gone.  I cannot recall a time when I had lost it to this degree.  

And, of course, it all started happening while I was at work.  Or rather, I discovered it after I had arrived at work.  Saturday, I had a sore throat from the drainage, with some pain in swallowing but otherwise no other major issues.  Sunday, though, I got to work and the first time I had spoken that morning, I ended up cracking like Peter Brady.  I hadn't had a reason to say much before leaving the house so that was a moment of "Ah.  Shit."  Over the course of that shift, it proceeded to get worse.  People I spoke with from different departments asking the cursory "how are you?" got a bemused "I sound like Peter Brady!" back from me, as all I could really do was laugh at myself and open up another Ricola from my pocket.  

By the end of that Sunday shift, though, it was no longer a question--two words out of my mouth made it apparent to anyone I was talking to.  Had a couple of patients tell me that I sounded a little hoarse as a bit of an understatement.  But giving report to the oncoming nurses, that was a particular kind of squeaky special.  And then I would laugh at myself which also sounded ridiculous and laugh a little harder.  When I left, I had told the charge nurse I would see how the night went and call off if I needed to, since I was scheduled to work that Monday as well.  

At around ten that night, I began to see reason and called work.  The call went something like this:

Me:  Hey, this is Larissa.

Charge Nurse:  Oh, I can tell.

I started laughing and she joined.  

Charge Nurse:  I'm sorry, it's not funny.

Me:  It is a little funny.  

I explained that I felt it was prudent to call in and recover; she agreed that was probably a wise decision.  *end scene*

So, I slept in the recliner that night, since that felt better than flat with the sinus drainage again.  Andy made me a hot toddy, and I was going to be on vocal rest for the next day.  I think I spoke less than two hundred words that day.  Lots of Throat Coat Tea, honey, water, and a bit of rye whiskey, but little speaking.  To my dog, we have gestures that we do along with commands and she was able to do quite a bit with just the gestures, once she realized that I still had a treat available.  Getting her attention involved whistling and kissing sounds.  

Talking with the other adults in my household, though, that was a bit trickier.  I had to think about my communication differently and how much space I take up regarding sound.  I couldn't have a quippy reply or theorize what might happen next along with the show we were watching together--communication had to be prioritized and triaged to short ideas or not shared at all.  And trying to get an idea across involved some basic signs that I knew, mouthing, and voicing only a few key words for context.  Andy would repeat whatever he was understanding from me, which helped us confirm immediately in the moment and try again as needed.  

I enjoy ruminating on words in a normal day, but this was a different kind of overthinking.  And then I noticed that I was also walking more quietly, paying attention to the sound of my body in my own home a little differently.  I felt quiet in space as well as voice.  It was a unique moment of awareness of how I take up space in a different manner.  

When I'm in a public space and someone is taking a call on speakerphone, I'm annoyed, particularly when there are glares that seem to imply that you shouldn't be listening to their conversation--sound takes up space differently and they decided to have a private conversation, loudly, in line at the mall.  There is a breach of consent here, that a shared space has been taken over by non-typical intrusion.  While hiking at Starved Rock this summer, there were multiple groups that were blasting their own music while walking the trails.  Some held a tighter radius, where we could hear it coming but the sound left with the group; others interrupted the natural sounds for minutes on end, loud enough that even the group had to yell to talk to each other.  Public space intruded.  It wasn't against any rules, but it felt rude, a breach of courtesy.  Coughing, though, as another example also breaches a shared sound space but it seen as more acceptable, understanding that it is usually out of control of the body in question.  But there is still a point where excessive coughing requires different rules--I've slept in the recliner a few nights, now, half for my own comfort and half to ensure I do not disturb Andy more than necessary.  

There are invisible rules for how we take up space, and these boundaries do vary.  It was interesting to think about it for a while, even in my own microcosm of shared space with my housemates.  We have unspoken rules about when music or a podcast can be played.  Tor example, someone cooking the kitchen has priority.  And if someone was in the space first that can also grant priority, but there are consent check-ins, the easy "is it okay if I play X?"  It's also okay for us to request someone to use headphones or turn down the volume.  I won't say that we're perfect at it, but there are some good practices.  

And then there's Luna who borks anytime her great nemesis, the UPS truck, goes by.  Human social norms are clearly not her thing.  

Whelp, in the meanwhile I'm continuing to let this round of seasonal blah make it's way through, coupled with another Covid booster last week, I'm ready for some good days again on the other side.  I'll continue to take up space differently for a little while longer, including extra mugs, Ricola wrappers, and a more coughing.  I'm allowed to take up space; and it's interesting to consider it in a new light.