First and 10

There are only about 18 hours left before my new adventure begins, and I’m so excited I almost can’t stand myself. I am restless, unsettled, a little anxious, and I have to recant my earlier statement: I’ve NEVER looked forward to starting a job as much as this one. I feel like a kid on Christmas Eve (oh, please God, let me be able to sleep tonight!!) and can hardly wait to get going in the morning. So it makes sense that I’m a bit over-amped right now……I feel as though I’m playing in the Super Bowl, I’m on the 50-yard line, it’s first and 10, and I’ve got a whole new set of downs to try for a score.

For those who don’t pay attention to football, I apologize for the gridiron metaphors, but for the first time in years, I feel like a winner. They don’t let just any old washed-up nurse be a quarterback; what I did in my career counted. I have years of experience in all phases of long-term care, and I was at least halfway decent in every position I played. The only place I really went wrong was in trying to recapture the glories of my floor-nursing days…..especially when I was so banged-up from stints with other teams.

But hindsight is always 20/20, and I’m glad I tried one last comeback, if for no other reason than to prove to myself that the active phase of my career was truly over. I can’t count the number of times I’ve stood at the goal line and been dropped for a loss. I can’t guarantee that it won’t happen again; sometimes my opponent breaks through my offensive line and I get sacked. But with good coaching and lots of practice, maybe I can learn better how to protect myself against the blitz and develop the confidence I need to improve my passing game.

Everything is in place to score a big touchdown: my head is fully in the game, I’ve got a whole platoon of cheerleaders on the sidelines, and the opposing team is getting tired. Go me!




Published by bpnurse

I'm a retired registered nurse and writer who also happens to be street-rat crazy, if the DSM-IV.....oops, 5---is to be believed. I was diagnosed with bipolar I disorder at the age of 55, and am still sorting through the ashes of the flaming garbage pile that my life had become. Here, I'll share the lumps and bumps of a late-life journey toward sanity.... along with some rants, gripes, sour grapes and good old-fashioned whining from time to time. It's not easy being bipolar in a unipolar world; let's figure it out together.

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