Work

When I grew up, I became a nurse in surgery. I never saw it coming. I had considered nursing in high school, but a nun -Sr. Judith Nameless, who taught chemistry, badly, said I couldn't be a nurse because I was bad at chemistry. Perhaps she did me a favor, since I did have a lot to learn of a non-chemical nature.

I spent school trying to figure out what I would be, my interests scattered all over the landscape. I wanted to be a pilot, because my uncle was a private pilot. A disastrous idea, since I have no sense of where I am in space outside of my own skin. I fantasized about being a dancer, but even then I knew I wasn't good enough, nor the right shape. Had fad aspirations based on tv shows, a comment in The Courtship Of Eddie's Father had me wanting to be a pediatrician- even though I didn't like children even as a child myself. Mostly I had no idea, outside of (even I would admit) the unrealistic 'actress', what I could really do. It was just answering adults. The societal demand that a career had to start in grade school. Well, it was only a generation away from apprenticeships when that was true.

I wanted to be one of the actors on a tv show, tell stories, live in a well scripted world, touch people all over the world. When I earned a full scholarship, I started in a dedicated theater curriculum, took every class to get the degree, studied hard, and never got cast in a play. Oh, I played an old lady in a grad student directed production, and I was in the croc costume for Peter Pan, not exactly portfolio material. Couldn't remember lines to save my life, I was stiff and tense, awkward and self conscious, cried at all the wrong moments. I looked all wrong for most parts. I took me 3 1/2 years to realize I would starve as an actor, and for good reason. I found that I hated being told exactly what to say and how to do my job. But also hated having to fight just to have a job to do, auditions were a nightmare. Especially when rare and critical jobs were based on my vanity. Of which I have some, but it is of a peculiar variety. I quit in my last semester, feeling a failure, unwilling to scrape through in despair.

In my intervening years of confusion, I was a radio DJ, podiatrist assistant, library aide, phone researcher (real research, and before it became such a nuisance, forgive, please) movie concessions, ballroom dance instructor, costumed "Litter Bug," waitress (2 weeks), auditor, art model, mall market researcher, as well as the Army National Guard and nurse. Each job taught me at least one lesson I use daily. Together, that mess of employment gave me empathy. I know about crappy, dead end jobs. After years of chronic underemployment, I value my living wage.


I know that no education is ever wasted, and today I can stand up and talk, in front of one person, or a group, speak clearly and calmly, and explain well. With humor. Useful for smarting off to surgeons or finessing anxious family members. I can empathize with any person, after writing many character studies. I can imagine a reason a difficult patient, or surgeon, is being an ass, and find a way to get through to them, or at least diffuse their hostility. Or else just duck--from stage fighting classes. When not to take moaning seriously- being able to spot a drama queen at a glance. I am wicked good at finding an analogy to describe a situation, having ushered so damn many plays, and BEING THE LIGHTBULB in actor games (ugh). Useful for answering patients questions about utterly alien experiences.

Surgery is my wonderfully, ridiculously structured work place, where I am an expert in my own sphere, and develop my own lines, and adapt creatively to changing situations. I have no homework. I will always have a job. I am happy not wearing make-up, I wear pyjamas every day that are magically cleaned by someone else. My appearance doesn't matter, aside from clean and concerned. Bleeds off (pun intended) my tendency to fuss and fix at people, and my paranoia at the vagaries of life. I am competent and cheerful, because the work fits.

I get the best stories first hand, the juicy not-for-the-dinner-table kind.

And I did just fine in college chem.

Now, I teach myself to be a writer. We shall see.