Our Life In Suburia...Part 1

Our new neighborhood in Peoria

The front of our house.

I still can't figure out why he scares people...

den

front entrance

living/dining room (table not delivered yet)

kitchen

master bedroom

master bathroom

master bedroom looking into bathroom

guest bedroom (*wink)

laundry room

I wonder what Barbie would think about CRNA school**

**When I was a little girl, Mattel made a Barbie with a pull-cord back. She said many phrases, but my favorite was, "Math is hard." She was immediately removed from the shelves...

Our new neighborhood reminds me of being a small town girl during the Colorado summers, I think, as the rain hits my face. Kids ride their bikes at night in the streets, racing through the sprinklers without a care in the world. Rugby and I venture out to explore our new territory. The breeze leaves the air fresh and I get a whiff of far off farm animals and it brings me peace. The normalcy of home life grounds me as hard as if I were to be wearing cement shoes. Lately, my mind takes me to far off places, dreams of glycolysis, memorizing innvervation patterns in the showers, and calculating vapor pressures over dinner. I find myself daily manically scrub my new counter tops, “for a sense of control,” my friend and classmate finishes my thought. She looks at me with empathetic and tired eyes. I was so non-chalant about CRNA school. Sure, it’s hard for you, but not for me. If I only knew…
…They don’t tell you how often or how easily you will cry, I think. School brought a big, burly guy in my class to tears today. He arrived to our test late and was barely let in the testing center. I felt my eyes well with sympathy tears thinking about all the hours I spent in the library, about 25 for a 45 question test. No doubt, it is a coincidence that they don’t tell you, you will probably cry…a lot. However, during the monthly “pep talks” by the dean, I hear words like “intubation,” “Swan-Ganz” and “no I have NEVER done a pudendal block” and my heart is a flutter again.

Life in Oz...

Instead of closing my eyes to take another calming deep breath, I close my eyes, breath out, and click my heels together. There is NO place like home. After 52 days in an extended stay hotel (I mean, I KNOW it says "extended stay" but gimme a break!), Aaron and I will be heading to our new home in Peoria. While, I 'liked' the other house we "bought," there is no real comparison to our new house. It is a home. And that is what we are shooting for. Aaron and I chose to build our life together in Arizona, now we can begin the next chapter!

Motivational Speech, Part 1

One of the first things you will hear as a graduate student is, "Don't worry when you fail your first test." I was told this by doctors as I left the Heart Hospital and by upper class men at Midwestern. When the doctor at the Heart Hospital told me this, one of the nurses turned to me and with an icy glare sarcastically said, "Not Morgan, she would never fail." I knew from past experience and from her tone that nothing would make her happier than for me to fall on my face. So, I spent two weekends straight in the library. I got up early and stayed up late (okay, late for me!). And I held my breath while I waited for those test results...I passed. With great scores. Moral of the story, never let anybody tell you that you will fail. Because if you believe it, they win. I have never worked this hard for anything in my life...but I have never wanted anything more. Life is looking up for the Morrow's.

:)

day 30, breakdown 2 and the letter that ruined my life..

I squeeze my eye lids together so tight that it hurts. "You make your own luck," I repeat over and over to myself trying to integrate it into my mantra list. But, as I learned today, sometimes one door closes so two doors can open (I think there is a law in physics for that too that I need to memorize by Thursday!). I imagine that I am one of those inflatable punching bags. The kind that you hit as hard as you can, but that keep popping back up no matter what.

The story:

I'm sitting in Biophysics today, surprised at how much I actually like physics. But suddenly, the small town feeling washes over me. I attribute this anxiety to the fact that today is the ABSOLUTE deadline for the bank. I have glimmers of hope rolled into threads of impending doom. So, I shoot my realtor a text message on my way to lunch.

(*actual text)

Hey Elise, has Analissa called yet? I'm getting some mega anxiety about the house. Morgan Morrow

Approximately five minutes later I get a phone call:

"Morgan, it's Elise. So, I have some bad news. The bank is refusing to handle your file because they are mad about a letter. Did you send a letter?"

Me:

"Yes, I sent an email to the advocacy department about three weeks ago but never heard back."

Elise:

"Well, they got the email and are pissed."

I'll spare you readers and paraphrase the rest of the conversation. Basically, my realtor claims an email I sent to Countrywide made them so upset, they refuse to deal with our file. My thought-seriously? How can one tiny, insignificant email tip the boat? Get my a life preserver because I off the ship.

I'm M-A-D:

1. I'm signing your paycheck realtor-why are you yelling at me?

2. An email CANNOT be the straw that broke the camel's back...what's really up? SHADY

3. See number one, SERIOUSLY!

So, Aaron and I are holding a family meeting to decide how we are going to proceed. I'm done. First, with our realtor for being so accusatory and disrespectful. Secondly, we've been dealing with this headache since February. As my nursing friends can attest,"dead meat don't beat."

Here is the email I wrote. What do you think? Was I overstepping my bounds (I already know the answer to that but reinforcement is always helpful).

Keep us in your thoughts. Through my morning runs, I have found a really CUTE neighborhood and some houses for sale. We are calling a new realtor that comes with the highest of recommendations from our new CRNA friends.

To Whom It May Concern,

I am writing this letter as a plee to help end my current situation. My husband and I moved to Glendale, AZ so I could continue my education in the health care field. We chose Arizona over our other options because we were able to buy a house here. On March 1, we made a reasonable, fair market offer on a house and on March 1, the seller accepted this offer. Since then, we have run into a variety of hurdles. Every time we have contacted our realtor for more information about our house, we hear the words "no update." My husband and I have since had to vacate our other home to move to Arizona. We are currently living in a hotel with our cat and Boxer. This is a very undesirable situation, as you could image. I have pleeded with our realtor many times to push our offer into a closing without much help. I have called Countrywide but I do not have the account number on the mortgage. I would appreciate any help I could get. This is the first house I have ever bought and I am so excited to finally have something that is my own.

The house in question is:

**********
Glendale, AZ
85310

and the seller's name is ********. I pray that this email reaches someone that can assist me to finally close on this house.

Thank you for taking the time to hear my story.

Morgan Morrow

**name/address obviously changed because I feel bad for the seller. He will foreclose his home if this doesn't go through.

Word to the wise:

Short sale=not short. Unless short means painful and long.

My realtor=would NEVER recommend her (so if you move to Phoenix-call me and I'll tell you who she is)

Day 2, breakdown 1 and other stories

Scene 2, Act 1:
Women enters dog park with unusually attractive, rare, white boxer. Boxer proceeds to sniff around the dark park, peeing on all his usual spots. Women happily sips grande non-fat latte from Starbucks, soaks up the sunshine, tries to digest the monumental task of CRNA school, and reviews yesterday in her head (see below story). Enter Doberman puppy. Puppy bites Boxer. Boxer enjoys attention and chases puppy. Puppy does not seem to mind. (*IMPORTANT AUTHOR NOTE, Boxer NEVER bit or jumped on puppy and puppy never yelped!) Enter, puppy owner. Puppy owner (in a criticizing voice with bitchy overtones) to woman sipping latte, "Why do you always bring your dog here when he acts like that?" Puzzled, woman sipping latte feels the heat rise to her face, making her tomato-like. Puppy owner gathers puppy in a hurried manner and exits. Boxer runs to labs playing fetch. Lab owner, "I don't want your dog playing with mine if he is aggressive." Woman sipping latte feels tomato face in its full effect and is now getting "small town feeling." Latte woman gathers Boxer. Exit dog park. Woman enters car. Convulsive, messy breakdown.

(The previous day)

Scene 1, Act 1:
Monday morning approaches and so approaches my excitement. It is FINALLY our "absolute deadline" imposed by the bank to come to a complete/final decision regarding our home here. I give the realtor my cell phone number, email address, and complete day schedule so she can call me the MOMENT we get the GREEN LIGHT. Five o'clock....no call...I call the realtor. Voicemail. Leave a detailed message instructing her to call me. Get a return call approximately 1 hour later:

"The bank decided to make their thirty day deadline, thirty BUSINESS days."

Mini-meltdown followed but no tears...yet...small town feeling begins.

Scene 2, Act 1.

Amidst all of our chaos, Aaron and I decide to take a break and enjoy a WNBA game. I give Rugby and good scratch while Olivia rubs up against my leg. This usually means she feels left out so I also give her a pet and we head out the door. (*Author's note-Olivia is our cat). Aaron and I get in the car and begin to head towards down town Phoenix. About two exits into the trip, I smell something out of the ordinary (or as my dad would say, "I got a wiff of jiff!"). I sniff around my clothes (we did start working out again and it's HOT here!). Nothing. I sniff around Aaron. Nothing. The smell passes. Five minutes later, I get another wiff. What the heck? I roll down the window and frantically scan the car when I look down at my leg. Olivia rubbed up against me and sharted on me. We pull of on the first exit so I can stick my whole leg in the sink at Jack-In-The-Box and scrub it. I guess she was mad that she and Rugby have to share such close quarters. Life lesson: just when you think that you have hit rock bottom, you get pooped on. It happens! So don't take yourself so serious because, it is really rather funny.

Current Scene:

1. Lightbulb clicking for CRNA school but am overwhelmed by the volume of information I am supposed to be digesting. Luckily, the CRNA Class of 2011 is made up of the most bright, supportive, and generous people I have ever met. And for a bunch of ICU nurses, not one person comes across as bitchy or competitive (and for anyone who doesn't know what the ICU RN stereotype is, they are not the nicest people!!). Side note, CRNA school currently consists of

• Journal club-Morgan will soon become a published (!!) author. Will keep you updated with that.
• Biophysics-who knew "math really ISN'T that hard Barbie!"
• Anatomy-what is this little insignificant fiber next to this big blob. Name all of these for every body part. (Eek!)
• Biochemistry-name very amino acid ever and what is does this and that.

p.s. I have a name badge that says Nurse Anesthestist (student) and I have a tee shirt...

2. While my head can now completely rotates around its axis (i.e. "Exorcist"), Aaron and I are still "patiently" waiting for an answer on our house. Although, this week we began looking for other houses and making empty threats towards the realtors. Basically, whatever house we can get into first will be our house but all arrows point to "our" house right now. Everyone that knows me knows patience is not my strong suit so this is a very large lesson in humility. We are going on week three of living in a studio with the dog and the cat...
3. I am married to the most wonderful and supportive man on the face of this planet. People in my class are already having "marital" issues regarding the time CRNA school consumes. Aaron and I are stronger. He quizzes me on my homework and is generally interested in how CRNA school works. On days he is off, I come home (or the hotel rather) to dinner and a back massage. Absence is making my heart grow fonder. And I've been gone a lot.
4. Rugby and I no longer go to the dog park. I hate the dog park. I hate the dog park people. They are just dogs! Dogs jump on each other and chase each other. And I would advise you to seek Psychiatric attention if you worry about your dog's psyche. Rugby's brain is pea sized (he jumped out of the car window in rush hour traffic mind you!). No room for thought processing greater than pooping, eating, chasing the bunnies in the arroyo, and belly rubs. Rugby and I now go to Thunderbird park to hike where we frequently get stopped by people oohing and ahhing over him. The little ham loves it.
5. The most recent deadline for the house is the 22nd. Aaron and I are making pretty substantial (but honestly hollow) threats to get something in writing. You will be the first to know what those results are.
6. Morgan+weekends Aaron works=mega cram time, this is one of those weekends so I better finish planting my face in Biochemistry.

You are now up to full speed!

What to do when you have nothing to do...

"But its a dry heat," my Dad adds helpfully to end his phone call. Great, I think as I peer down at the truck's thermometer. 91 degrees and climbing. That probably explains this nagging cough I have developed since crossing the border. For now, I say, adios New Mexico as I check out my new surrounds. The recent rains have left a blanket of lush green surroundings. The journey here has been a long, bumpy road. Literally and figuratively speaking. It's hard to make the miles blur when the moving truck can only go 60 miles per hour. All the other cars fly by and curiously peer at us, wondering why we can't do the same. Fear, safely, and general exhaustion is our answer. We drive to our house but cannot unpack our things. Bank delay. It had been too easy to obtain a new home in a desired area. And for the girl who is used to getting her way, this is a good lesson in patience. I close my eyes and remind myself, "you create your own luck."

How To Pack a Box (10 Things I Hate About You)

1. Sit with your cup of coffee and stare at the boxes near your feet.

2. Start to cry a little.

3. Wipe your tears and get your sharpie.

4. Throw random junk into each box.

5. Label all: MISC., FRAGILE!

6. Sit on said box in attempt to get it to close.

7. Use copious amounts of duct tape.

8. Consider selling everything you own on Ebay.

9. Call a moving company and consider going back to work to pay for it.

10. Feel very accomplished at all you do.

Can somebody please pass me an emesis basin?

It hit me today. The small town feeling, that is. For those of you that do not know already, the "small town feeling" is most easily explained as:

1. something that causes GI upset (i.e. quitting your job and moving)

AND/OR

2. a feeling of isolation (i.e. quitting your job, moving, and leaving your friends and family)

Yesterday was my curtain call at the Heart Hospital, after wonderful five years. It is where my nursing care started and I refuse to let it be the place that it will also end. Once a nurse, always a nurse right? I will always over analyze any headache (brain tumor), menstrual cramp (pregnant!), or rash (necrotizing facitis). I know how to give a bed bath and shave an unconscious patient, how to make my sheets extra crisp, and how to shoot cardiac outputs with my eyes closed. I can run a code, tamponade a bleeder, and deal with a bitchy co-worker. However,the most important thing I will take away from my career is the compassion nurses are able to extend to others. Nothing can bring you to your knees like telling a family member "they didn't make it." I have learned that a back massage, hug, or converstation can soothe pain as easily as a Percocet. And that has made me a better person and will make me a better Nurse Anesthetist.

I am setting my stethoscope aside (for now) and trading it for my study skills. Then I remembered, I didn't have any of those as an under-grad. At least I can blame my sweaty hands on the Phoenix heat!

C.R.N.A.

You all know I am going to school to become a CRNA but you still may ask yourself, what is that?

Here is my final answer:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=c1JzCDqt3BM

Moving

Here is my moving to do list:

1. Buy a house (check! Final approval-April 6)

2. One last minute vacation (check!)

3. teach Rugby to behave like a civil animal (ummm...it's a work in progress. We are still consider suing the Marley and Me author for life infrigement plagerism...come on, how many dogs jump out of car windows in rush hour traffic?)

4. Begin learning all the names of every amino acid, ever...

5. Convince Aaron that, while Midwestern is a

"doctor school"

persay, I am a

"doctor nurse"

and he should hereby refer to me as

"Dr. Nurse Mrs. Ouellette Morrow."

6. Call U-Haul (check!)

Let the count down begin!

Meet the Morrow's

Once upon a time, lived a man and a woman. After a year and a half of togetherdom, the women threatened (err, highly suggested and encouraged) the man into holy matrimony. They were married September 5, 2008 and set off to create a history. Their journey has now left them settling into domestic bliss. They have a naughty puppy, a crazed cat, and the travel bug. This couple now sets out on a new adventure: graduate school and a move to a new city. This is our story...