Saturday, October 31, 2009
Panera Bread, how I love you!
Panera Bread is a cafe I've discovered in my one-and-a-half years of living in Dallas. I love it! It serves delicious soups, salads, and sandwiches, and offers a relaxing environment in the midst of the hectic city life. This wonderful place bakes delicious breads and desserts to satisfy any craving you may have. Plus, you can order your soup in a bread bowl at no extra cost! How cool is that!? A bottomless cup of coffee is inexpensive- and they have half-and-half and sugar to add to their flavors of coffee (today I'm enjoying a Hazelnut brew). I come here, find a quiet booth, and stay for hours at a time to study for my tests or write my papers or merely to enjoy their free wireless internet! Ahh... this place hits the spot!
Sunday, October 25, 2009
No Sabbath = Sickness
It's pretty clear from the scriptures and from observing nature that God intends for His people to Sabbath. Not only is Sabbath a command, but it is also our nature- its how we were created. We are to work 6 days and rest on the seventh. We need the rest! God created us to Sabbath every night (with sleep) and one day a week. Sabbath is not a cruel command- it's a gracious gift! But we so often refuse this gift because it doesn't fit into our schedules with our current lifestyle.
In my life, the times that I get sick are when I don't allot enough time for my body to rest (i.e. right now). I've been running around like crazy trying to complete all of my school assignments, working at the research lab at school, and interning at Parkland. I understand that this is only a season, but it's been an exhausting season that defies my nature- my need for Sabbath. So, here I am now, sick as a dog, getting little work or schoolwork done. When I don't give my body the Sabbath it desires and requires, my body rebels and demands that rest through illness.
In my life, the times that I get sick are when I don't allot enough time for my body to rest (i.e. right now). I've been running around like crazy trying to complete all of my school assignments, working at the research lab at school, and interning at Parkland. I understand that this is only a season, but it's been an exhausting season that defies my nature- my need for Sabbath. So, here I am now, sick as a dog, getting little work or schoolwork done. When I don't give my body the Sabbath it desires and requires, my body rebels and demands that rest through illness.
Sunday, October 18, 2009
Self-Evaluation
Subjective: Pt sitting on couch c laptop. 0 family present. Pt alert & cooperative throughout tasks, however pt reports increased fatigue and lability. Pt blogging; however pt reports need to study & read for class.
Objective: Pt c 7/8 on delayed recall. Pt c 10/10 on moderately complex information processing c 3 visual cues. Pt c 9/10 on complex information processing c 5 visual cues. Pt c 3/3 on complex problem solving. Pt c 3/3 on story recall task. Pt writing at complex P level c 95% accuracy utilizing complex sentences. Pt c decreased initiation and motivation to prepare for classes. Pt c decreased attention to reading tasks. Pt requiring min verbal cueing to A in completion of assignments. Pt c + insight into deficits. Pt reports increased lethargy secondary to decreased amount of sleep.
Assessment: Pt p/w moderate senioritis complicated by mild-moderate sleep deprivation.
Plan:
1. Pt will sleep min of 8 hours/night for 7 days/week with 100% accuracy to improve cognitive performance and emotional lability and to decrease lethargy and fatigue.
2. Pt will verbally produce thanksgiving for 10 blessings/day regarding current situation (including school) with 80% accuracy to improve motivation and initiation.
3. Pt will attend to reading/writing tasks for 2 hours/day to ensure completion of assignments and increased accuracy on examinations.
4. Pt will complete blog post in <2 minutes to improve productivity for the rest of the evening.
(From Wikipedia: The main symptoms of senioritis include chronic procrastination, lack of motivation, a drop in academic performance, and "coasting," which is the act of going through classes with very little concentration or application of intent. This usually happens in the last year of middle school, high school, college or graduate school.)
Objective: Pt c 7/8 on delayed recall. Pt c 10/10 on moderately complex information processing c 3 visual cues. Pt c 9/10 on complex information processing c 5 visual cues. Pt c 3/3 on complex problem solving. Pt c 3/3 on story recall task. Pt writing at complex P level c 95% accuracy utilizing complex sentences. Pt c decreased initiation and motivation to prepare for classes. Pt c decreased attention to reading tasks. Pt requiring min verbal cueing to A in completion of assignments. Pt c + insight into deficits. Pt reports increased lethargy secondary to decreased amount of sleep.
Assessment: Pt p/w moderate senioritis complicated by mild-moderate sleep deprivation.
Plan:
1. Pt will sleep min of 8 hours/night for 7 days/week with 100% accuracy to improve cognitive performance and emotional lability and to decrease lethargy and fatigue.
2. Pt will verbally produce thanksgiving for 10 blessings/day regarding current situation (including school) with 80% accuracy to improve motivation and initiation.
3. Pt will attend to reading/writing tasks for 2 hours/day to ensure completion of assignments and increased accuracy on examinations.
4. Pt will complete blog post in <2 minutes to improve productivity for the rest of the evening.
(From Wikipedia: The main symptoms of senioritis include chronic procrastination, lack of motivation, a drop in academic performance, and "coasting," which is the act of going through classes with very little concentration or application of intent. This usually happens in the last year of middle school, high school, college or graduate school.)
Friday, October 16, 2009
A Lesson
Tuesday. It's raining. I'm leaving Parkland to meet my sister and niece for lunch. I start my car (the Blumina). It hesitates. It jerks. It runs. Whew! I turn onto Inwood Road to join bumper-to-bumper traffic in a highly congested and miserable construction zone. My car jerks. It keeps running. Red light. Green light. Bummer. It dies. Did I mention that its raining? Did I mention that there's tons of traffic? Did I mention I'm in an intersection?
What's a girl to do? Restart it, I suppose. Its running...4...3...2...1...it dies. So, I restart it a couple of times until I'm as off to the side as one can be on a no-shoulder, high-traffic, under-construction intersection. Then, of course! Call Dad! What's the problem? Out of gas. (I know- that's a dumb problem that shouldn't have ever happened.) He advises me start my car again, coast for as long as possible, start my car again, coast as long as possible, make people angry on the road, and try to crawl to the gas station about .2 miles away. After a few honks, angry expressions, and a very slow crawl, I make it to the entry of the gas station. Problem: it's a pretty steep entry. By now my car is crawling for about 2 seconds with every key twist in the ignition. Hmm... but I try. Nope. Try again... YES????
All of a sudden two men ran towards my car in the steady rain and started pushing against my bumper. We made it about half way up and then the dear Blumina started rolling backwards. Then, two more men ran towards us and got behind the Blumina and pushed. After a couple of attempts we finally made it to the beautiful gas pump!
So, who were these gallant men to rescue this damsel in distress in the tempest? Their faces I knew well. I pass them almost everyday in that same intersection. They are the men who walk along the streets lined with cars asking for food, beverages, and money. They are the men who find shelter from the rain under that overpass.
Many times I have seen them, shared a smile, but hoped that they wouldn't come greet me at my car window. Many times I have driven past, thinking to myself "I'm working hard, really hard, in grad school trying to feed myself and keep a roof over my head. Surely they could improve their living situations with a little bit more effort." These were the faces of men I judged without knowing their life story... without knowing their name. The men who are poor, unclean, hungry, and thirsty, the men who have been rejected by me (and countless others) are the men who were willing to get their clothes wet and willing to help someone in need. How grateful I am to these men who are slower to pass judgment and quicker to lend a hand. And how humbled I am by their grace and generosity.
What's a girl to do? Restart it, I suppose. Its running...4...3...2...1...it dies. So, I restart it a couple of times until I'm as off to the side as one can be on a no-shoulder, high-traffic, under-construction intersection. Then, of course! Call Dad! What's the problem? Out of gas. (I know- that's a dumb problem that shouldn't have ever happened.) He advises me start my car again, coast for as long as possible, start my car again, coast as long as possible, make people angry on the road, and try to crawl to the gas station about .2 miles away. After a few honks, angry expressions, and a very slow crawl, I make it to the entry of the gas station. Problem: it's a pretty steep entry. By now my car is crawling for about 2 seconds with every key twist in the ignition. Hmm... but I try. Nope. Try again... YES????
All of a sudden two men ran towards my car in the steady rain and started pushing against my bumper. We made it about half way up and then the dear Blumina started rolling backwards. Then, two more men ran towards us and got behind the Blumina and pushed. After a couple of attempts we finally made it to the beautiful gas pump!
So, who were these gallant men to rescue this damsel in distress in the tempest? Their faces I knew well. I pass them almost everyday in that same intersection. They are the men who walk along the streets lined with cars asking for food, beverages, and money. They are the men who find shelter from the rain under that overpass.
Many times I have seen them, shared a smile, but hoped that they wouldn't come greet me at my car window. Many times I have driven past, thinking to myself "I'm working hard, really hard, in grad school trying to feed myself and keep a roof over my head. Surely they could improve their living situations with a little bit more effort." These were the faces of men I judged without knowing their life story... without knowing their name. The men who are poor, unclean, hungry, and thirsty, the men who have been rejected by me (and countless others) are the men who were willing to get their clothes wet and willing to help someone in need. How grateful I am to these men who are slower to pass judgment and quicker to lend a hand. And how humbled I am by their grace and generosity.
Monday, October 12, 2009
Parkland Peeps
One of the primary reasons I wanted to intern at Parkland is because of the patients. This hospital provides services for the people who may not have insurance, who may not speak English, who may not have family or friends come to visit, and who may not always abide by the laws of this country. These are individuals who are desperate to see Christ manifested in patience, peace, love, joy, kindness, gentleness, and goodness. Although I definitely have plenty of room to grow in the fruit of the Spirit (that fact just continues to be confirmed every day), it's nice to see how much more brilliant your light is when you are surrounded by such darkness.
Every morning I am in for a surprise! Who knows?! I may be asked to work with an individual with a gunshot wound, a prisoner, a minister, a homeless person, an alcoholic, a drug dealer, a drug addict, or just a regular person... except I've only worked with one "regular" person. There have been occasions where I have been shown hostility and aggression (mostly, though, the agitation is secondary to the brain injury), but for the most part, the patients have been respectful and appreciative.
Hospitals can be a depressing setting, surrounded by illness, injury, and death, but there is so much opportunity to give hope and love to these hopeless and lonely people.
Every morning I am in for a surprise! Who knows?! I may be asked to work with an individual with a gunshot wound, a prisoner, a minister, a homeless person, an alcoholic, a drug dealer, a drug addict, or just a regular person... except I've only worked with one "regular" person. There have been occasions where I have been shown hostility and aggression (mostly, though, the agitation is secondary to the brain injury), but for the most part, the patients have been respectful and appreciative.
Hospitals can be a depressing setting, surrounded by illness, injury, and death, but there is so much opportunity to give hope and love to these hopeless and lonely people.
Friday, October 2, 2009
Ataxic Aphasia
Parkland has been a difficult, yet wonderful, experience. Every day a new situation arises that requires quickness, efficiency, problem-solving, deductive reasoning, and common sense. These are all skills I believe myself to have (thank You, God, and thanks, Mom & Dad for the genes); however, my supervisor, unfortunately, has seen very little of these in her student intern.
Today, after completing an initial evaluation on a new patient, I was filling out the paperwork to write down how the patient performed during the assessment and to give an official diagnosis on this patient.
"Patient presents with mild/moderate ataxic aphasia complicated by...".
For those of you who don't know, "ataxic aphasia" doesn't exist. There is ataxic dysarthria and there is aphasia, but there is definitely not an ataxic aphasia. An equivalent misdiagnosis would be for a psychologist to diagnose an individual with "mental regurgitation" instead of mental retardation. This could also be compared to a a minister asking the congregation to turn to Hezekiah 3:12, a car salesperson trying to sell you a Honda Lumina, or a baker confusing the flour with salt.
So, just in case I was beginning to feel slightly competent and confident in my skills as speech therapist in the hospital setting, I was given yet another dose of humility... and good grief! These humility shots smart!
Today, after completing an initial evaluation on a new patient, I was filling out the paperwork to write down how the patient performed during the assessment and to give an official diagnosis on this patient.
"Patient presents with mild/moderate ataxic aphasia complicated by...".
For those of you who don't know, "ataxic aphasia" doesn't exist. There is ataxic dysarthria and there is aphasia, but there is definitely not an ataxic aphasia. An equivalent misdiagnosis would be for a psychologist to diagnose an individual with "mental regurgitation" instead of mental retardation. This could also be compared to a a minister asking the congregation to turn to Hezekiah 3:12, a car salesperson trying to sell you a Honda Lumina, or a baker confusing the flour with salt.
So, just in case I was beginning to feel slightly competent and confident in my skills as speech therapist in the hospital setting, I was given yet another dose of humility... and good grief! These humility shots smart!
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