Semester One, Week Ten

"How much suctioning needs to go in to suction out a tracheostomy?" I asked my classmate, perplexed, because the only answer I could find was "To the point of resistance" and I was pretty confident there was a more definite answer out there.

Classmate replied "You worry too much. Stop it."

...

This got me thinking; how often do we think we know what's going on in someone's life, externally, but in reality, its the internal that matters.

"Man is like a mere breath; his days are like a passing shadow" -Psalm 144:4

My classmate doesn't know that I'm actually worried about my parents going to jail for a crime they didn't commit, or that I'm awaiting test results for my RA/other form of arthritis, which could be debilitating to my dream career in emergency medicine. I'm not worried about the length of tubing for tracheostomy suctioning. That was merely a pondering I had, at the moment.

Week ten is done.

Two and a half more weeks of clinicals.

So much to do, as the semester winds down (but its not really winding down, yet).

We switched pharmacology instructors, and I can't tell what's going on anymore. The content is messy, confusing, discombobulated. I pray I don't bomb the exam next week. Actually, I have two exams next week. And a paper coming up, and a massive project, and a group presentation.

But you know, I'm so in love with this field, that even the hum-drum, calamity of finishing on time, getting good grades pressure feels okay with me at the moment.

We'll deviate from the norm this week while I tell you a story. I had a dear, dear friend that I met a few years ago in first semester anatomy and physiology. In time, he became one of the best friends I ever had; he even tried setting me up with a good friend of his (failed attempt, but I lived.) Anyhow, through a series of miscommunication, he and I lost contact. We went our separate ways. And it hurt. I missed him.

The last few weeks, the Lord has been communicating to me the need to reconcile with him. This past Tuesday, I got the "It's time" from God, so I went to his house. I'll spare the details, but we reconnected, and he continually commented that my timing is amazing; he too is going through a very rough patch. All glory to God; He made it known it was time.

But the sad this is; I was too late. While the miscommunication was cleared up, our friendship is over; too much time has passed. Regret is a terrible thing.