First Impressions

Good morning all!  I hope your Memorial Day is off to a good start, hopefully with coffee and a cinnamon roll or something.  I revisited my childhood with a bowl of frosted flakes with a banana.  Not that you care, but you chose to read this blog post.

Anyhow, when last you heard from me, I was preparing for the long trip that would put me in my summer location of Marshall, Minnesota.  I have since arrived.  And you know what?  I like this place.

On the trip up, I took a little side trip out to a friend's farm in rural Norfolk, Nebraska.  It was an absolutely gorgeous area, tucked back in massive rolling hills.  As I stood out on the little pond dock they had, I could hear cock pheasants crowing all around me, and soon began to see a few.  The family that hosted me were incredibly kind hosts, and I am super grateful for a place to stay over.

The following morning had me on the road.  After a stop for chicken livers at Cracker Barrel in Sioux Falls and a detour along Highway 23, I found myself on the campus of Southwest Minnesota State, checking into my apartment.  There were a few bumps along the way- a bad smell in the apartment when I first arrived (nothing some Glade couldn't fix), an AWOL trashcan (maintenance brought it approximately Wednesday), and wifi that wouldn't work for a few days (finally got that fixed, too)- but overall, I have been very pleased with the apartment.  We have a kitchen, a washer and dryer, and free cable, with an inordinate number of channels.  I have been more glued to the various sports networks and travel-related shows than I care to admit.  Note that I say "we"- I have two roommates.  Both are interning with the Schwan Food Company, which is headquartered here in Marshall.  I get along pretty well with both, though we are all three pretty different.

The clinic I am working in is great.  I work five days a week with somewhat variable hours (10-6:30 on Mondays, 8-4:30 on Tuesdays and Fridays, 9-5:30 on Wednesdays and Thursdays), and a variable patient load.  Last week, we spent about half of our time in the clinic, and about half the time at a local retirement community.  The caseload has ranged from farmers with bad backs to a young lady born without ACLs.  The people here are incredibly friendly, and I have thoroughly enjoyed working with them.

Now, of course, Minnesota is a great state to get outdoors.  I have done so.  There are miles of biking paths around here, and I have spent quite a bit of time riding around.  I haven't seen a ton of wildlife- some 13-lined ground squirrels (the famous Minnesota "Golden Gopher," for those of you wondering), and what appear to be very runty prairie dogs compared to those we have back in Kansas.  I believe them, however, to be more intelligent and ritualistic than their Kansan counterparts, as I found about 30 of them surrounding my car one afternoon in what appeared to be some sort of ceremony.  I'm still not quite sure what that was about.  I also encountered a partridge while hiking, which flushed directly in front of me and nearly gave me a heart attack with the racket it made whilst breaking cover.

Oh, yes, the hiking.  I visited Camden State Park yesterday.  I fished in Brawner Lake for a few hours, catching a handful of largemouth bass that were too small to be worth bringing home.  Besides, apparently the dam was breached a year or two ago and they lost a large portion of the fish population, so they are asking for catch and release only with bass.  Fair enough.

Anyhow, after a few hours of relatively fruitless fishing, I decided to try out the hiking trails.  The trails varied from rolling prairie to woodlands, and I certainly knew I wasn't in Kansas anymore.  Bellwort, waterleaf, and phlox were everywhere. The whole trail was surrounded with beautiful purple flowers.

They smelled heavenly, too.  I'll try to do a better job taking pictures.  I forgot to bring my camera yesterday.  Those are courtesy my little cellphone.

Today, I'm cooking some BBQ in the slow cooker and sharing a meal with my roommates, and hopefully venturing out to another local state park.  Hopefully I'll bring home my first Northern.  That's a picture I would be happy to take and post for you all.

Stay dry back in Kansas.  Keep praying that I would remain centered on what God has called me up here to do.  I'll see you all soon.

The Threshold

I'm sitting at my kitchen table with a bowl of oatmeal (with blackberries- my favorite) and a cup of coffee.  It is absolutely beautiful outside with the sun coming up.  It's a cool morning, by May standards, but it promises to be a lovely day all the same.  Worth noting is that Kansas is currently cooler than my summer home in Marshall, Minnesota.  And unfortunately, my summer home is part of the reason I'm not paying as much attention to the lovely day as I should be.

Packing and cleaning are stressing me out.  You don't realize what you can't find until you start looking for it (to this, you are undoubtedly saying, "No, really?  Why am I reading this guy?").  You also don't realize how much trash you harbor until you start  moving trash out of a room in order to find things that you actually need.  I'm also seeing time as a commodity right now.  Seven to eight hours of work over the last couple of days are all I've been able to put into my bedroom so far, in part because of other important things I've needed to do, such as moving furniture, beginning pre-marital counseling, and getting my finances set for the summer.  I've also tried to give myself some rest and relaxation- this is, after all, my only week "off" before starting my summer clinical internship in Marshall.  So I think I'll try my luck fishing this morning/afternoon for about 3 hours or so.  Hopefully I don't pay in stress sweat.  I still have a lot of things to pack, a box of books to locate (likely misplaced after last summer's clinical), and a bicycle that needs checked out by someone who knows what they are doing.  I'm somewhat apprehensive about how much money I'll need to put into that sucker, but it will be a ride (hopefully) this summer that will save gas and make for easy entertainment.  Not that I won't already have plenty to do.  But sometimes, a mindless, outdoor activity is what I need to recover, and I have no lawn to mow or garden to tend.

So, again, picture painted, I'm sitting here, tired, and a little stressed out.  Beyond the prep work, there are unknowns out the ears.  Will I mesh with my CI?  What are the business standards at my clinic?  What kind of roommates will I be paired with in my university housing?  Will I find community in Minnesota?  Will my budgeting prove accurate (aka, will my funds last?)  But there was a little reminder that I didn't need to be so stressed.

http://solidjoys.desiringgod.org/en

I am far too focused on details that frankly just don't matter.  It may seem that they do.  But I'm not going to starve.  I'm (most likely) going to make it back to Kansas.  My focus shouldn't be on this experience as a weird vacation or even something I have been forced to do (I did choose the location, after all).  Even though Piper's blog doesn't necessarily speak directly into my circumstances, it is a reminder that I simply need to center myself.  I'm not seeking things that are above.  I'm merely seeking to keep my head above water.  There is a difference.

This summer, God has a plan for me.  I don't know what it is.  I would hope the plan is that I will treat a lot of patients, thus showing them God's healing grace; I will find a small community of believers that challenge and encourage me; and I find another individual that perhaps doesn't know God well whom I can invest in.  But those are expectations; and expectations of such a nature are dangerous.  What I should really be expectant of is that God will do with me as He sees fit.  My expectation should merely be that God will ask me to do something; in no way should I attempt to predict what that something will be.  All I can do is whatever the next thing God wants me to do is.

Today, that looks like listening to a Timothy Keller message while doing the dishes.  It looks like packing like crazy between fishing and running my bike down to get looked at.  It looks like posting this blog, which is an opportunity for the rest of the world to see the way I mentally process things.

I want to add, as well, that I will be continuing to update this blog over the course of the summer.  I will be posting at least weekly with photos, stories, thoughts, all sorts of things.  I might bring some physical therapy insights to the table.  I will hopefully be bragging about the giant Northern Pike I catch (a dream I have had since I was a little kid).  I will probably share what the Lord is doing in my life.  I will tell you all about my unusual\ experiences, ranging from weekend trips to dining experiences to probably some general commentary about where I am.  If any of that sounds interesting, or if it doesn't but you love me enough to read about it anyway, feel free to check out this blog.  I'll post links to Facebook and Twitter, so don't hesitate to check them out.

Enjoy your Wednesday, ladies and gentlemen.  Rest in Him, even when packing has you ridiculously stressed out.

On Easter

What are your immediate thoughts when you think of Easter?  Rabbits and tulips?  Eggs and candy?  The Crucifixion?  The Resurrection?  I cannot answer the question for you, I’m sure, but personally, I have thoughts of some combination thereof- and then some.  Here is what I think of when I think of Easter.

I think of Good Friday services, and the anticipation it typically started for a young child awaiting candy and the Easter Bunny.  I think of all of the treats- Reese’s Eggs (which I can no longer enjoy- peanuts are a migraine trigger), Robin’s Eggs, jelly beans, cupcakes, carrot cake, and lemon-blueberry pound cake.  I think of dyeing Easter eggs all manners of bright hues and fun patterns the night before.  I remember watching a cartoon version of the Easter story every year between the ages of probably 3 and 8 or 9.  I remember waking up with eager anticipation to see what the Easter bunny had done.  Usually, there was a large, brightly colored basket containing candy and stuffed animals and coloring books.  The eggs we had dyed the night before were hidden all over the house.  Usually, my grandparents would be there.  Often, they would go to church with us, an event that was preceded by dressing up for what would often be the only time in any given year for me in those days.  Generally, the other set of grandparents would arrive in the afternoon with a load of plastic eggs that were loaded with more treats, which we would search the back yard for.  We would have ham, potato salad, deviled eggs, and one of the previously mentioned desserts almost every year.  We generally watched “Ben-Hur” or “The Greatest Story Ever Told” as a family.  I loved it all- the bright pastels, the sweets, dressing up for church, the Easter story- all of it.  And to me, they were all parts of the same whole.

Easter is my favorite holiday, and I cannot, for the life of me, figure out why it isn’t as big a deal as Christmas.  Two gospels have the birth narrative.  All four feature the Crucifixion, after all.  Christ came to die for our sins, and to defeat death by coming back to life.  His purpose is the reason to celebrate Easter.  Now, that being said, there are many reading this that probably question me when I suggest that I want Easter to be as big a deal as Christmas.  Why would I want the consumerism and media circus that surrounds Christmas every year?  Well, I don’t, necessarily, but I suppose that just comes from a broken world struggling to process something it doesn’t understand.

As a physical therapy student, I have learned that TBI (traumatic brain injury) patients, in one of the early stages of their injury, are generally violent and agitated.  They are then confused and often inappropriate.  It often takes a great deal of time before their responses are appropriate to their circumstances, and even when their responses are “appropriate” to the circumstance, it may still not be correct.  The reason for this is merely that they cannot process the information in their surroundings.  They can’t process the information; they know that something is wrong with them, but they don’t know what.  They can’t figure that out; they’re in unfamiliar surroundings; they can’t attend to multiple problems at once.  Therefore, it is nearly impossible for them to figure out both what is wrong with them and what is going on in their environment.  It is easy to understand, then, why one might become angry or violent, especially when the part of the brain that serves as a “filter” is often one of the most affected by TBI. 

So, using this illustration, I would say that society’s response to Christmas and Easter are akin to a TBI patient.  C.S. Lewis is quoted as saying “If we find ourselves with a desire that nothing in this world can satisfy, the most probable explanation is that we were made for another world.”  We are told in scripture that “the natural person does not accept the things of the Spirit of God, for they are folly to him, and he is not able to understand them because they are spiritually discerned” (I Corinthians 2:14, ESV).  So, we are surrounded by people that do not understand the world they live in.  They know something isn’t quite right, but they aren’t quite sure what it is.  Some respond with anger, violence, and a host of other wrongs and coping mechanisms.  Others respond with a response that seems appropriate (religiously or societally), but isn’t necessarily right.  To me, this is the reason that we have such hubbub surrounding Christmas, and to a lesser extent, Easter.  People recognize the importance of such events, but they don’t understand them, or the world they live in, so they respond inappropriately or incorrectly.

Now, for many people, Santa Claus and the Easter Bunny and elves and eggs and stockings and sweets may be one of those inappropriate responses.  Well, perhaps.  But there is another angle I would want to approach these things.  C.S. Lewis, in his Reflections on the Psalms, talks about a stage in the life of a child in which he is naively unable to distinguish the festive portions of these holidays from the religious.  In his mind, to whatever degree is possible, is yet uncorrupted by the confusion around him.  To the child, the festive portion is a direct result of the religious.  They are inseparable.  Without Christ dying on the cross, there would be no reason for the festivities.  There is no celebration without the sacrifice.  The eggs, candy, pastels, rabbits, and fake grass stuff that gets everywhere are all the inappropriate response of well-meaning people trying to celebrate an event that they cannot fully understand.  But just because it isn’t fully fitting doesn’t make it any less sincere.  It is all done in honor of the sacrifice.  I see no problem with this, or with the festivities around Christmas, despite the complaints of many.  The true problem, as Lewis also touches on, is when the celebration becomes the celebrated.  In essence, the gift-giving, the decorations, and the symbolism become the object of our worship rather than a mechanism for doing so.  The fact that this happens has led many to shun the festive side of these holidays, citing their detraction from the purpose of the holiday.  But as Timothy Keller says, in a sermon which I am struggling to dig up at present, if the only way you can gain freedom from idolatry is to separate yourself from the source of that idolatry, you have no freedom at all.

So, to me, like the child Lewis writes about, composing poetry about “chocolate eggs and Jesus risen,” we cannot separate the celebration from the purpose.  To me, every aspect of Easter points back to the Crucifixion and Resurrection.  Rabbits and eggs and baby chicks represent new life.  We have new life in Christ.  Spring itself represents new life.  Meals are a way that families connect.  Our faith is not meant to ignore our culture, and as a culture, we bond over meals.  Meals, in this case, that feature ham, potato salad, asparagus, carrots, deviled eggs, baked beans, carrot cake, and whatever else would be reasonable to consume at an Easter meal.  Which takes place in spring, I might add, meaning that traditionally, only things available in spring would be consumed.  And potatoes, carrots, and preserved meats (like ham) would have probably been reasonable spring fare.  But why the pastels and candy?  Well, as the color goes, possibly because they just seem to mirror nature.  I don’t think it is any accident that Easter falls during spring (unless you’re in the southern hemisphere, but I think it is fair to say that Christ was not crucified in the southern hemisphere- besides, autumn is equally beautiful, in my opinion).  Nature seems to celebrate with the bright colors of new plant growth, blossoms, and blue skies that break through the winter darkness.  Nature worships its Creator more purely than any sentient being ever could- it simply exists for His glorification.  The candy can be explained simply in that children love candy.  Why not give them some during an event at which celebration is in order? 

To sum up my stance, when I think of Easter, I think of the “commercial” or “secular” aspects.  I think of the strictly religious aspects.  I think of time spent with my family.  I think of spring.  Why separate them?  They are all parts of the same whole.  I wouldn’t eat all of the candy that I do in March or April every year if not for Easter.  My family wouldn’t have a big family meal without Easter.  I wouldn’t dye Easter eggs, wouldn’t hide them, wouldn’t develop an inexplicable fondness for bunny rabbits every spring if not for Easter.  Above all, I wouldn’t be forgiven or free without Easter.  I wouldn’t delve as deeply into the Gospels without the reorientation offered by the conscious reminder that it is Holy Week. I wouldn’t stand out in the inevitable spring chill singing the praises of my Savior before the rising sun if the Savior had not risen.  This time of year would mean nothing without Christ, so how can it be said that the festivities detract from the holiday?  I celebrate life as a result of his death and resurrection.  To me, there should be more at Easter.  No celebration could be enough.  Would you sooner let the day pass with no societal recognition?  Could it be that the media circus surrounding the holidays is being used by God to at least raise awareness that there were events that occurred on these days that a hurting world might take interest in?  I doubt many non-Christians would have ever heard the Gospel or set foot in a church if not for Christmas and Easter getting so much “secular” attention.  God uses events that may not appear particularly holy to bring about His purposes all of the time (Romans 8:28).  He even used the sinful pride of the Pharisees to bring about the sacrifice that would save all humanity.  Imagine how He can use a celebration, a joyful event!

So, I hope you’ll join me in celebrating this week.  Join me for some carrot cake cookies and malt eggs.  Let’s watch “The Greatest Story Ever Told” together.  Let’s go to Easter service together.  Maybe I can pull some strings and have some dyed eggs hidden around the yard.  Let us celebrate together, for the Savior of the World is risen.

Next Year

The past year has seen a lot of highs and lows in my life.  Spring/summer of 2014 saw me beginning PT school, and nearly backing out after the negative, joy-sucking experience I had at Orientation.  Over and over I heard how difficult it was, how much it was going to suck, how I would struggle to do ANYTHING I enjoyed with my life, as I would presumably have no free time.  I decided to press on, and felt for the first time uncertainty about my own ability to meet the academic rigors of a program.  Summer is short and intense, and it seemed worse than it was because everything was at a frantic, rushed pace.  Ten credit hours in 8 weeks feels like 20 hours.  To add to it, I lost Thunder,  my best buddy, my nine year old lab mix, to a botched surgery.  I missed most of the last week of classes after my truck broke down in Bel Aire and I came home that night with a nasty case of food poisoning.  But in the end, I survived.  In fact, I survived unscathed.

Fall was the hurricane that everyone told me PT school would be.  Anatomy was fun for the first half of the semester, but as we started diving into areas I had never explored (nervous system, viscera, etc.), I began to lose interest, and my grades slipped.  I received some of the lowest grades I had ever had due to my inattentiveness.  I reached a point in the semester where I didn't care anymore, and as my grades fell, I began to lose confidence.  I barely held on to the grades I had at the end.  But, there were positives to the semester that far outweigh the difficulties I faced.  I emerged, once again, unscathed.  I developed deeper friendships with other students who were embracing the same struggle I was.  I grew to know some of my instructors deeper.  I learned, as a result of the struggles I faced towards the end of the semester, the importance of self-care, and making time for enjoying life.  And, towards the end, I finally came to terms with the depth of a relationship I had with a very good friend.

Winter was a truly relaxing experience.  For the first time, I didn't have a job that sucked the enjoyment out of Christmas for me.  I got to spend quality time with friends.  And, due to advice I had received from a couple of very good friends, decided to finally pursue my dear now-girlfriend as more than a friend.  I wasn't sure what I was getting myself into, as balancing relationship and school is a tall order.

But the spring saw me doing just that, entirely by the grace of God.  That was the recurring theme for this semester- His neverending grace.  I finally found myself growing to understand the concept of His strength being made perfect in my weakness.

By myself, I couldn't get through the semester.  I failed an exam at one point, and it felt like my world was coming to a screeching halt.  I was convinced that if I couldn't pass this exam, I was doomed in that class.  I wrote myself off.  I was weak; I was not competent enough.  But what happened was that people who care about me lifted me up.  I received pep talks from people I hardly knew, support from my girlfriend and a couple of dear friends who had been through the program ahead of me, and assistance from friends who weren't going to leave me behind.  Most unexpectedly, I heard the instructor whose class I was struggling in tell me that she believed in me.  This instructor does not have a reputation as being warm and caring, but in that moment, she was.  And it meant more than I can express.  I was more determined than ever to prove her right.

The amazing thing about God's perfect strength is that He typically makes the things He accomplishes that much more impressive by the instrument He uses.  The best analogy I can possibly use still fails miserably, but if you can imagine winning a NASCAR race with a Model T, you get an idea of what I mean.  I've heard of kids winning at state track meets in Air Jordans.  Same idea.  God accomplishes amazing things, and makes them more amazing by using broken tools to make it happen.  That was what He did in my life- encouraging me to  keep fighting through unexpected sources and actually leading me to finish with a better grade in that class than I honestly anticipated getting.  I am now more motivated and excited about my career choice than I ever have been.  My turning the situation over to the only one who really ever had control in the first place, I succeeded.

Now, I am about to begin my second year of PT school.  I know it will be hard.  It may be harder than the first year.  But my heart attitude is completely different.  God has called me to this; and he who called is faithful to provide.  Looking back on the way my life has changed and how I have grown in faith, I can't help but think of this old song.  Hopefully you enjoy it.

Ups, Down, and Hope on the Horizon

Nobody reads this.  Of that, I am somewhat certain.  But that's okay.  I need an outlet, and it doesn't matter if anyone reads it or not.

Today, I held my buddy, my nine-year-old lab mix, Thunder, for the very last time.  We're not sure what happened to him.  Potentially cancer.  How it happened isn't important.  He's gone.  That's what matters.  It wasn't unexpected.  He's been going downhill for a few weeks now, and we decided it was time to put him down before he suffered an undue amount.  It wasn't the hardest thing I've ever done, believe it or not.  But it was heartbreaking.  I even made the vet cry.

PT school has sort of  improved recently.  No, it isn't getting easier.  I'm just getting more calloused to it.  I survived midterms.  Everyone did.  But there were a lot of people freaking out.  Including me.  Until a text from a friend reminded me that God is still going to use me whether I make it through PT school or not.  My attitude changed.  I began doing everything I could to encourage those around me.  People told me it helped.  And I felt like I was answering my call.  Despite the bright face, however, and the oft-repeated phrase "It's gonna be fine," I was suffering a bit.  Thunder wasn't long for the world, and I knew it.  And it was eating me alive.  I couldn't stop thinking about it.

It seemed, and still seems, strange that dogs are so short-lived.  I think that they are a very good example of unconditional love.  I don't know how many better examples I have seen in life.  Yet, they only last ten, fifteen years, often less.  Maybe that's why they hurt so badly to lose- not because we love them, but because they love us.  That's why it leaves a void when they're gone.

Between school and the impending loss of my best friend, what I needed more than anything was hope.  And I could find it in music.  Music serves as sort of a brace.  Despite the pain or weakness I may be experiencing, I can stand up and walk through life.  There are particular songs that have been especially important to me this summer.  Danny Gokey's "Hope in Front of Me" is one.  Shane Harper's "Hold You Up" is another, and Needtobreathe's "Multiplied."  It's a reminder that my circumstances suck.  I don't have any answers.  I have a lot of disappointment, a lot of pain.  But I have no bitterness.  I have hope for better times.  I just have to be reminded of it sometimes.

Today, I received word that a classmate has a strange bacterial infection- she could be back in a couple of days, or never.  They don't know yet.  I almost started crying in class today, feeling like I couldn't handle what I knew was coming sometime this week.  I wanted to get up and leave.  Just run away.  But what I did instead was listen to Needtobreathe's Rivers in the Wasteland album.  And I got up and prepared for class.  Then, I got 100% on a pathophysiology test.  And picked up my official name badge.  And I felt pretty good about myself.  Then, Dad called.  And the whole day turned on its ear.

I won't go into any detail about the procedure.  What I will say is that when I was 13, my family was looking for a computer desk.  One morning, Dad came home and woke me up, saying he had found something that he needed help with.  I assumed I would be helping him to carry a computer desk.  What I found was a big, goofy, smiling face pressed up against the truck window- Thunder.  I took him out of the truck and carried him back to the house.  Today, after he took his last breath, I had a request for the vet.  He granted it.  I carried my best friend out of the clinic.

Eating Crow

Today is the first official Friday of PT school.  I say this with a deep sigh of relief.  A whole day with no class, and plenty of time to attack the large hill (because mountain is over-dramatizing it) of work sitting before me.  I feel much better than I did Wednesday.  I feel like I can do this.  And I believe I can.

Yesterday, our first attempt at group study sort of... stood up.  I can't really say it took flight.  There were three of us.  And we lasted about fifteen minutes.  But it was a start.  We're working on plans for the future, too, using study rooms at the library on Sundays after lunch.

Lab was amusing.  When the class finds someone who has a positive test or sign, everyone in the room flocks to that person so that they can see or feel what a positive test is supposed to feel like.  I had a positive Vertical Compression test, and I had a line of probably fifteen people out behind me waiting to take their turn making my back buckle off to the left.  One girl in my class has epically winging scapulae.  Everyone wanted to watch them wing or feel them wing.  It was pretty amusing, actually.

What wasn't amusing, however, was eating crow later in the afternoon.  One of my classmates and I made the poor decision to mess with a classmate's bluetooth mouse while he was out of the room.  I directed her movements to open another screen from another table.  I felt instantly sick when I realized what a violation of trust we had just committed.  I would absolutely hate it if someone had messed with my computer while I was out of the room.  As a group, we need to be able to trust each other, and if I am pulling crap like that, who can trust me?  Of course, I apologized, after spending the entire class period for PT708 feeling sick to my stomach over the guilt.  When I did talk to him, he said, "It's okay.  But thank you for apologizing."  I could tell he hadn't been happy about it.  But, being a mature professional, unlike what I had just been, he was willing to let it go.  My response to him was that the program was trying to build professionals, and I was behaving like a squirrel.  He laughed and looked at me out of the corner of his eye, and said, "You do realize you're going to turn out fine, right?"  It somehow made me feel a lot better.  He is only a few years older than I am, but a great deal more experienced in life.  I think I trust his assessment.

The Beatings Will Continue Until Morale Improves

My, it has been awhile, hasn't it?  Yet, here I am, early on a stormy June morning, pounding away at this keyboard.  Why now?  Well, see, I have started a long, arduous journey known as physical therapy school.  About two days in, I started wondering what I had done to myself.  I'm a little more composed now, but I wanted to sort of journal the experience so that I can more accurately relate the experience to those who come later.

Orientation was the end of last week.  While it was kind of long and dull, and most of the information won't matter for months, it was kind of neat to be in the middle of it, at long last, meeting my new classmates, officially being a student.  It was exciting.  The few preceding days had been full of panic, however, trying to get the clinical requirements addressed by the deadline (which was wrong on the email, to our relief).  Orientation seemed like a nice break... even though most of the staff spent a significant portion of their speeches telling us about how horrible PT school is and how much harder we'll have to work towards success.  I will admit, I didn't feel quite as enthusiastic about it as I began work on Dr. Pitetti's lectures, and the tests over HIPAA and BBP.

Then... real classes hit.  Day one wasn't too bad- we had our most enjoyable class of the summer, TherEx, a long period off between classes, and then a very vague description of our pharmacology class from the new instructor.  I left with a fairly high level of confidence, for at least the summer.

Day two robbed me of all of it.  We had TherEx, Pathophysiology, and Intro to Professional Practice.  Seeing the volume of work Intro would take (none of it difficult, just time consuming), the amount of information on the first Patho exam, and the difficulty of the Pharmacology course, I felt sick.  I wondered if I had made the right career choice.  I was seriously re-evaluating until Christian Challenge that night, when I received a reminder that I'm here to be a light, and if I go through my three years (or however long it takes to fail out, haha) glumly, I can't really benefit anyone.  So, after that attitude adjustment, I took a crack at Day 3.  It went much better.  To my relief, some of us talked about the way we were feeling, and I found that I wasn't alone.  We talked it out, and all felt better.  The open afternoon yesterday (done with class at 2:30 on Wednesdays) made for a productive afternoon, that really helped me.

The hardest part, though, has been the fact that I haven't been able to sleep for a few days, because I lay awake thinking about everything I must do and learn.  It's becoming very exhausting, mentally and physically.

The take home so far, for new students in the future, is that it is okay to freak out a little bit at the beginning.  You're going to feel overwhelmed.  But you'll adapt- and quickly.  You'll probably be thinking, "What if I don't?"  Well, I can't convince you that you will, if you're anything like me.  But after a few days of deep breathing and living with you nose in the books, you'll be fine.  Really.