Socially,

University  is overrated. I had to say it.

Before I started uni,  everyone gushed about the... no The University Social Life.

Like OMG, you're gonna meet more sophisticated people and they're going to be like you and you're gonna hang out and have coffee and it's going to be so mature and cool and not like the trash you have in high school and blah blah BLAH BLAH BLAHHHHHH.

IT'S A LIE.

It's just... not as they say, although I might just add that it may be specific to the individual/course/campus.

For example, my campus is teeny tiny, and my course is pretty small too, so between all the lectures and tutorials and labs, you tend to see the same faces. However, I've heard that on the Clayton campus, it's very likely that you can meet someone once and never see them again.

What's awesome about my course - Nursing and Paramedics - is that you have to be good at communicating. You have to be nice and friendly. And while I didn't think I was the best at this, everyone else is, so it makes chatting pretty easy. And everyone's just so nice. So that's a perk.

My problem is really with the notion of making the supposedly fantastic 'friends'. Kinda. I mean, I had a crisis and it has since been resolved. Bear with me.

Basically, you may remember that I made a friend on my first orientation day. It wasn't too hard to find her again, but in the meantime, when I couldn't find her for a moment, I made another friend. And before long - give it a week or two - we had this group. It was fun. I liked it.

So uni goes by, you have the assignments, you have the mid-semester stuff, la di da. Late  in the semester, I thought: we've been hanging out for a while. We like each other. Why not try to take our 'hanging out' outside of a university context?

So I suggested we have a picnic, after one of our 'big' assessments.

Okay, so picnics are a bit of a weird suggestion. I figured that out after the laughs and odd looks. I can't help that I grew up with extraordinary friends. But at the time, I was a little miffed, and I started thinking. Thinking about certain things usually takes me downhill.

I started realising how reluctant everyone was just to hang out. Most people drive at uni, they have their own cars. As soon as a lecture is over, they just feel the need to rush home. None of my driving uni friends ever feel interested in just staying back a little, having this so-called traditional coffee. No one feels like just talking about stuff not really related to uni. What's their excuse? I'm dependant on buses, as are some of my other friends, but the drivers - why? 

During this crisis, I talked to a lot of other people, different courses, campuses. They kinda all said the same thing. People just come to uni when they have to, then leave ASAP. I guess a part of it is just all the studying, assignments, and work too... but come on. To have one social gathering every now and again can't be that hard.

I just thought, as a first year, that we were all in that same boat where we're equally lost and enthusiastic, eager to make friends and do this uni thing right. So I was a bit depressed when it didn't turn out that way. I mean, there was also this hype about joining clubs, and people I know who have done that stuff don't even attend the meetings and stuff...

But I guess that was just my high expectations.

So I've realised the value of having a few, meaningful friends, and just appreciating the sort of smile-and-wave friendships for what they are. I guess you can't just expect the same sort of connection from everyone, y'know?

(Late) Eid Mubarak, guys, and Happy (late) Friendship Day (apparently?) ^_^

Peace in,
Laila

Never grow up

I've done four placements for paramedics, and I loved them, but I gotta say that the one-week nursing placement I had last week was the one that really hit me.

Aged care. 

I've always been uncomfortable around nudity and stuff, but... now... I've seen it all. I helped with the bathing, the toileting, the changing, the moving, the feeding. It was exhausting stuff, and to be honest, I don't think I did all that much. I was, technically, just assisting. I can't even begin to imagine what it's like to be the actual one-woman-show on a daily basis. Or two-woman-show. For like, 15 dependant elderly residents.

And I discovered that I'm pretty capable. I didn't cringe or giggle stupidly. I did whatever I was told, because... I donno. It had to be done. It can't be helped, and there was nothing funny about it.

[INTERMISSION:

Okay, so there are some things funny about it - i.e. my favourite resident, Barry. 

Day one, he was hitting on all the female assistants in the vicinity. My mentor went to get him up in the morning, and she was trying to pull the sheets up, but he kept clinging on. She wrestled it off him, and she tried to lift his arm, but he refused.

"I'm holding down my stomach," he insisted.

"Why?" my mentor asked, exasperated.

"So I can look slim for you," he replied.

Smooth, huh?

Day two, he was in a bad kind of mood. He started threatening my mentor because he felt they weren't respecting him.

"I'd love to be your husband for a day or two," he said to her.

"Why, Barry? You were just threatening me, why would you be my husband?" my mentor joked.

"I'd clock you  one every morning," he retorted. When my mentors try to stifle their laughter, he continued. "Women like to be noticed."

Day three, I was allocated to another sector for the night shift. However, we went over to his area because we needed to empty the linen. When we walked past his room, I couldn't help but peek in, and he was awake, and before I could escape, he called me in.

"What's going on out there?" he asked.

"Oh, we're just emptying the soiled linen," I replied.

"Why wasn't I informed?" He had that self-entitled, imperious tone.

"Oh - it's not that big a deal. Just cleaning up, you know?"

"Oh, you would think so, wouldn't you?" he said, peering down at me. I mean, he was below me on the bed, but he has that Dumbledore-peering-over-his-half-moon-spectacles thing going on, although he was more conspiratorial as opposed to wise. 

"Well, I'll have you know..." he started, and went on to describe the various weaponry he apparently had around his room. Apparently he had a pistol under the covers, and the table legs weren't really as they seemed. He asserted that he was prepared to leave the room and shoot everyone in the shins, as necessary... something something... Then he started talking about the girl he loved, Phyllis, who apparently didn't love him back, and his father always said that 'you should never make a woman uncomfortable - if she doesn't want you, that's it'... something something... He was always a 'man of the land, not the administration', because the administration was always trying to change the world according to their beliefs and religion and political ideas, but men of the land just lived... and so  on, so forth.

These are just snippets, really - Barry and I had many conversations, most of them not really making sense, but I donno; I felt like there was some kind of wisdom in there. He's a cool guy. I love him.]

But most of it wasn't funny because... because. Because it's hard to see people who have a great number of years behind them, who must have grand stories, who should appear regal, who ought to be treated with a kind of a reverence... It's hard to see these people so diminished, mentally. 

That was really what confronted me - I can't see people losing their minds.

It scares me and it makes me sick, and it's... so hard to deal with. I don't even know how to explain it. I used to hate aging primarily because I like being a kid. Now I'm just scared of aging because I don't want to end up like that.

My mentor implied that one of the ladies could hold a conversation, so I seized an opportunity to feed her. So I started chatting, asking her some questions - do you have children, grandchildren, are you from around here?

We got to the point where she said she was born in England, but married an Aussie bloke, and she considered herself Aussie. I said, awesome, so when did this happen? As in, when did she come out here?

And then she got teary.

"I don't know, I can't remember! It's too long!" she cried out. And my heart broke a little. Ow.

She's not the only one. I mean, they're all (mostly) sweet, but it's just so hard because theoretically you should speak to them with deference, right? But you end up having to be patronising, and you can't help it. It's so hard. 

So no aged care for me. And I'm definitely not growing up.

Also, I had my first personal encounter with a corpse. On my last night, this guy had just been moved back from hospital into palliative care. They thought he had a couple of days at least. The nurse in charge went on break for 10 minutes, and when she came back, he was gone. I had to help wash him.

They go downhill so fast.

When I left, one of my other favourite residents was in the midst of a fever. She was stripped down, sweating and shuddering, and she kept calling out to God. It was awful. And I had to leave right there. I still don't know what happened to her.

Aged care is not for me. I was told that in order to deal, I shouldn't take things personally, but I can't not take it personally. I joined this profession because I like things personal. It feels so cold being detached. I can't do it.

Yep. 

Paramedic placements, on the other hand, have been a lot less overwhelming. I've had four one day shifts across the semester. Nothing particularly dramatic, so no good stories to share, but I do love 'em. I can't be bothered walking down memory lane for that stuff, so maybe I'll just write about my next one :)

Ramadan mubarak to all my Muslims out there ♥

Peace in,

Laila