Monday, September 27, 2010

I'm goin' downdowndown

I am going through a bit of a downward spiral these past few days. I've gone from feeling pretty damn good about myself and my achievements to feeling kind of like, "WTF EVER possessed me to even THINK I could be a goddammed paramedic?!!", except with many more swear words.

My emotions are all over the place, and although I kind of know this is just the way it is, it still sucks mightily.

I had a test pretty much every day last week, and I did pretty well in every one of them, except the last one, which was the only physical one. Of course. The one I knew would be the most challenging. At least my expectations are spot on. I had to do four lifts (as in, lifting actual people who have actual weight), and I had to do them using proper body mechanics (meaning, don't do anything stupid and hurt your back, stupid). I did two of them quite well, and two of them, not so much.

I get a second chance at the end of this week, but just the fact that I couldn't do what was expected of me has sent me into a downward spin so quick and unexpected that it scares me. Because, if this had happened to anyone else, I know what I would have said: "Get a life, hoser."

Actually, I would have probably put a "please" in there somewhere as well, because we Canadians are polite, eh.

So, I start this week with many self-doubts and worries, as well as time crunches because HOLY CRAP, EVERYTHING'S DUE AT THE SAME TIME AND I DON'T HAVE TIME TO DO EVEN HALF OF IT, AND I FEEL LIKE I'M GOING TO PROJECTILE PUKE, which some would say means I can obviously multi-task really well. Which is just a reminder to me to always look on the positive side.

If there's one thing that's obvious with this post, it's that I didn't get enough sleep this weekend.

Thursday, September 23, 2010

My days

My days go something like this:

I wake up to the sound of the kids getting ready to go to school. Usually they're very quiet and well behaved, so that I can turn over and go back to sleep for a few minutes.

Finally, I groggily get up and put in my contact lenses so that I don't pee all over the floor by mistake. My process-of-elimination skills aren't so great. Then I brush my hair, which is mega important, because if you don't start the day with brushed hair, your day will suck. This is for real, guys. Believe me. Brushed hair = awesome day.

Then I go downstairs and promptly make myself a big cup of coffee. Not as important as the brushed hair stage, but almost.

And then I either get dressed and go to school, or I sit down with my mega-pile of science books, and I study, read, and study some more. Then I practise lifting people off the ground, putting stretchers into make-believe ambulances, and study some more.

This is now my life. Yes, I get to see my family every day, but not very much. I have to carve out little moments in time so that I can at least ask them how their day went, and make sure things are working well enough for everyone so that I can once again disappear into the hovel I have dug for myself and -- you guessed it -- study.

Despite this seemingly difficult and busy life I now have, I am loving it. Despite not seeing my family much anymore, and missing home, I am so happy. And proud of myself. And glad I married a wonderful guy who is letting me live my dream.

And on that note -- I have to go study!

Monday, September 20, 2010

Sweaty boobs

Me: Holy crap!

Mr. Handsome: What?

Me: I'm reading all about sweat glands here, and I just found out something I probably would rather not know.

Mr. Handsome: *Silence*

Me: Hello? Did you hear what I said?

Mr. Handsome: Yes. I'm just not sure I want to hear this.

Me: Oh, you do...

Mr. Handsome: *Long pause* Okay.

Me: Did you know that the milk my breasts make are actually sweat glands???!!! How cool is that?!

Mr. Handsome: Like I said, I didn't want to hear this.

Friday, September 17, 2010

Round 342: Me against the world

There I was, wheezing, as I tried to keep up with everyone else. Give up I did not, however. I carried on, trudging wearily, slapping one tired foot in front of the other on the hard cement floor, focusing on the prize: my dignity.

Clearly, I didn't get the prize, because I have no dignity left. There I was, in my gym class, which all we paramedic-wannabes have to take in an effort to get into good enough shape to be able to lift and carry ill people and equipment, all while eating an ice cream cone, or possibly that salami sandwich that you just found stuffed in the side pocket of your pants.

You know, guys, it's not easy keeping up with a class full of mostly 20-somethings, especially when your mammary glands keep hitting your knees.

There they all are, gleefully skipping around the room as if they're in a field of daisies and they're lazily making their way toward their lover. And there I am, my ass slapping the backs of my thighs as I grunt my way around the room, which constantly seems to grow exponentially with every lap I do.

Meanwhile, there is my teacher, screaming supportively, "Fight the asthma! FIGHT THE ASTHMA!"

Fight the asthma? How about fight the AGE? I just turned 48, and am just now realizing that I am no longer able to keep up with everyone. I kept telling myself that it was simply because I wasn't in shape, and everyone else is obviously quite active. But no, as Mr. Handsome so kindly pointed out to me last week, it's mostly because I'M OLD. OLD. As in, aged. As in, I could be most of these guys' mother, and maybe even a grandma if I had had my firstborn at the age of 13 (which isn't so out of the ordinary in this day and age).

This point was further brought to my attention when one of the students asked if anyone else was born in 1990. My head whipped around so fast it almost came off my neck and flew across the room and hit the opposite wall as I looked at him with hatred in my far-sighted eyes. 1990? What the hell? And yes, there were a few born then. WTF?! Are they just trying to make me feel like I already do? Meaning, that I should be wheeled into class in a coffin...

The coup de resistance, however, was when one of the young 'uns 'innocently' asked if anyone was up for a nice run around the campus after gym class. I, who could no longer feel my legs, looked at her in disbelief. If she wasn't so damn cute, I would have probably throttled her cute little firm neck.

And then, another 1990er piped up and said, "Nah. I did a long run already this morning after reading my text for three hours."

I'm in so much trouble.

Monday, September 13, 2010

Lucky Girl

So, it's like this, guys. I'm old, decrepit, and feeble. And yet, it kind of feels good to hurt, if you know what I  mean.

Do you? Or am I just fumbling along, trying to make sense of my feelings again?

What I mean, I think, is that, despite my sore muscles from my Fitness Till Death class, and my newest class -- Lab -- whereby we get to lift each other off the floor and simultaneously rip our pants from fore to aft, I'm loving the pain, the feeling of muscles regenerating, the knowledge that my body (and mind) are getting stronger with every day.

Trying to remain positive, y'all. Bear with me.

On another positive note, I had a birthday yesterday. Yeah. Just in case I didn't already realize I was old, now I'm older.

Despite that unfortunate fact, I had a wonderful day, as always. Mr. Handsome and the kids have "The Knack" and somehow just know how to make my day perfect. Em had stayed up late Saturday to put up decorations

and she made my birthday cake

and it was good.

I also had to spend the better part of MY day studying, and doing a couple of tests that actually took WAAAY longer than I expected. As in, hours longer. Yay school.

So, today's a new day, and I once again drag my sorry and baggy ass out of bed to groan softly to myself as I try to move stiffened joints and painful muscles, and remember that I am so very lucky in every way imaginable.

Friday, September 10, 2010

The Sneaky Age Thing

So, let me just say that that thing called Fitness Class should actually be called The Class That Throws You Into a Fatal Chokehold And Slowly Kills You. Because that is what happened yesterday.

So yes, I am writing to you from the Land of the Dead. Trust me. I exaggerate not. My arms, they will not move, my legs are like rubber, and I feel like I walked out onto a busy street and got hit by two milk trucks, a semi full of lobsters, and about 30 motorcycles, who obviously are part of a gang (because why else would they have run me over, and why else would the leader of the group have a monkey on his shoulder?) If that didn't make sense, don't worry. I'm dead, remember? Dead people don't make a lot of sense at the best of times.


I actually woke up the next morning and was not as sore as I thought I would be, by which I mean I could actually move my limbs without screaming out in excruciating, ear-blistering pain. Which, to me, means I'm actually in better shape than I thought I was, and should stop whining so much. You're welcome.
I'm still very unsure of myself with the whole school thing because it's all so very new to me. Let's face it, I haven't been in school full-time since the 80s. That's a long time, guys. Most of the students in my class weren't even born then, and could be my children. Well, maybe not quite, but probably.
And, as Mr. Handsome explained to me yesterday as I lay prostrate across the couch, writhing in pain, this is why I will have one helluva time keeping up with these ragamuffins in fitness, because I am no longer a spring chicken! Oh, right. Thanks for the reminder. I actually didn't quite realize that that was why I felt like my insides were about to fall out of my orifices. Apparently, as you get older, it gets more difficult to do things. Who knew?

Now, excuse me while I take some more Tylenols, a codeine, and wrap myself up in my misery, in preparation for my final class of the week: Lab! Whereby I get to lift people and stretchers, and all with a great big smile on my face!

Wednesday, September 8, 2010

School Just Might Do Me In After All

As you read this, I am in my first class at college, looking very out-of-place and rather nervous as I look around the room and notice that I could be anyone's grandmother.

Update: OK, maybe I was a tad too quick with that last statement, because as I was getting ready to go to my first class (gym/fitness), my bowels exploded and I ended up sitting on the toilet for more than half the class. To which, Mr. Handsome would reply, "Typical." And he'd be right.

So much for my fitness class. Well, at least my bowels are in shape. I think.

The rest of my first day was a little less eventful, shall we say? I had Psychopathology, which is right up my alley (I could have written the text, yo), and then I had Anatomy & Physiology, which is just another way of saying the class looks and examines the naked body. Again, right up my alley.

And guys, I won a prize! Why? Because I am the definition of awesome, that's why. Actually, it's because we had this really odd practice test in the Psychopathology class, and the test had nothing at all to do with psychopathology (unless you include hockey teams and the capital of Australia), which is probably why I got all the answers right. And, out of 56 people, I was the only one. Ahem. The prize? A little bag of gummy bears. I felt like I was in kindergarten again.

Today we had another practice test in our Medical Terminology class, and I got that one all right as well.

Do you see a pattern here, my friends?

The pattern: I have no problem answering questions correctly when it doesn't count. Which also means, when the real tests are here, I'm totally screwed. Hello unemployment! Good to see you again!

Next, watch as a bunch of hunky student paramedics poke and prod my stretch marks!

Thursday, September 2, 2010

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