Seeing the world through the Nurse's Eye

Year: 2024

A new way of seeing

Sometimes when you look back, you look way way back. As a child traveling between the USA and Mexico, two places I considered home, I always thought that the USA was the best. I recall, during one of my summer breaks in Mexico, practicing reading in Spanish by looking at the help wanted ads. Per my memory, one ad stated: ‘Seeking a young female receptionist, between the ages of 25-35, attractive, and must speak English’. I knew, even at eight years old, the lack of rights for women that ad had bluntly stated. USA was a better country. I had more freedom. The food was safer, thanks to the Food and Drug Administration (FDA) which protected us against toxic additives. You could drink the water straight from the tap.  And, of course, with hard work you could reach the American dream. No matter what that dream may be.

Now I know better, thanks to the opportunity of having lived abroad. I thought that traveling and visiting other countries was enough, but it only scratches the surface of understanding where you come from. When you travel, it is about experiencing a new culture, but it is all a comparison to you. Your view of the city, your take on their customs, how it relates to your world. When you move to another country, you start off with the comparisons, but with time you assimilate. You live in a new world, and slowly it becomes your world. A new reality. At least until the time comes that you must go home. Coming home. Upon coming home, you now see your previously comfortable world from the eyes of an outsider, and it can be jarring.

“When you travel, it is about experiencing a new culture, but it is all a comparison to you. Your view of the city, your take on their customs, how it relates to your world. When you move to another country, you start off with the comparisons, but with time you assimilate. You live in a new world, and slowly it becomes your world. A new reality”

A new reality

In my previous reality, I believed the USA food industry to be safe. But after living in England, I am aware of the additives that are banned in the United Kingdom but allowed in the USA. Including, for example, potassium bromate, added to bread here to make it more “structurally sound,” and known to cause cancer. Or food coloring, yellow dye #5 or red dye #40, both shown to have an ill effect on children, and added to our food to make orange juice look orange. Oreos, Ritz crackers, or coffee creamers taste better in the USA, and it is due to hydrogenated oils which are banned overseas. These trans fats are detrimental to our health, contributing to cardiovascular disease and diabetes. Now I find myself reading nutritional labels prior to any food purchase. 

Money comes and goes, as we all know, and it is a necessity of life. But the dramatic increase in the USA shocked us. Groceries cost us double, even though our basics have not changed country to country. I recently read that “Mayonnaise prices have surged 43% over the past three years, according to global research firm NIQ.” Our property taxes have dramatically increased, but the potholes that line our street have only deepened. This year alone, car insurance increased by 60%. Meanwhile, in England, diapers, formula, and female hygiene products are 1/3 of the cost and not locked behind a cabinet at the store. All necessities of life, however here it feels like a luxury item.  

And to top it off, it is not just the cost of living; it is also the cost of health care. Our health insurance is $600 a month in addition to $8300 out of pocket deductions. The pressure to make sure we have money set aside for healthcare in case of an emergency adds additional anxiety, which I manage with health supplements averaging $200 a month. Whilst in England, all these costs had vanished. You may correct me, that we did pay through our taxes, however I pay more taxes now at home than in England. However, I still have the additional cost of healthcare.

Anxiety you say, yes!

The first month we arrived home, I was scared to run in the evenings due to Kia Boyz. A local gang which made the video game Grand Theft Auto a reality in our neighborhoods. A bystander was shot by a stray bullet on his way to the store. The same store I frequent. Thankfully, they have been caught since then, but a year later, and I am still overwhelmed by the lack of safety and constantly being vigilant of my surroundings. It is the price I will pay to be back home. 

Home

Knowing the roads to travel to avoid midday traffic. Not getting caught up in language barrier, even though we both spoke English. Friends who hold my stories close to their hearts. Going to the same beautiful beach on a hot summer day that Alvin grew up going to. The unspeakable beauty of the Pacific Northwest. Knowing where I am now.

Mount Rainier also known as Tahoma, is a large active stratovolcano in the Cascade Range of the Pacific Northwest just forty minutes from our home

Home. To host weekly family dinners or call family over when we cook too much or just miss them. To have Alvin giggle when the grand pups come for a visit. We have our home again to hang family photos, paint the kitchen a bright yellow without asking for permission, and purchase things meant to last a lifetime and not just three years. Our house which holds our memories, not things but moments; walking in as newlyweds, Alvin’s first steps, and the hard work Gary has put into the house.

Our house full of memories and our grand pups, Gary’s art work above the TV, our many photo albums, etc

Looking Ahead

Now I am working towards a future. Being home, I can think far, far ahead.  

I am back working at the local children’s hospital, in the emergency department, with a focus on caring for children that arrive in a mental/behavioral health crisis. Whilst in England, I became accustom to not using physical restraints, the act of tying down limbs to a bed. Coming back into a culture which, at times, feels like this is the first choice if a patient becomes combative, has been a sucker punch to my core beliefs. But if it were not from my three years in England, I would not have known better. In England, I was able to see and practice in a world where restraints were rarely used, showed me that it can be done differently.

One year later and that experience is embedded in me, I have only needed to resort to physical restraints once. I hope to continue the streak. I believe it is poor care to place a child in restraints, especially when there are other tools available. And I will continue to advocate for these children, they need to be heard. The future? I want to bring forth the ideas, practices and norms that made for a healthy society in England.  

The differences I did not see before, but now I do

The business of healthcare, how it echoes through your TV with the multitude of pharmaceutical commercials. The sweetness of your morning yogurt, which feeds into the American obesity crisis and diabetes diagnosis. All of which are a welcome burden to the economics of healthcare.  

The looks people give to one another as we stroll the streets. The judgement, rather than the support, in the glares directed towards the helpless. The separation between the haves and have-nots. A year ago, upon my return, all of this brought tears to my eyes. I wondered how I was involved in this world, yet so unaware. Now I see my privilege and I try to use it as a superpower for change. 

I realized coming home I would have to fight for what I believed. Fight even when I was tired, hopeless, or overwhelmed. I now know what it is to live in a country that has healthcare as human right, safety of the citizens, and provides healthy food regulations to nourish its people. England is not perfect, but it did show me we can do better. 

After my first year living in England, I compared England to someone you fall in love with but can’t marry because you have a different future planned. I know England and I were never meant to be, but my time there shook me to the core. Funny enough, I also met someone who had different future plans—he didn’t want kids, and I did, I wanted to live abroad while he was happy staying home. Despite these differences, we fell in love and got married. Fourteen years later, I’m grateful for him. So maybe England and I can find a way to make it work, too.

Living abroad has shaped the world I see. My world, my home, is no longer from one lens, it is layered. A year later and I am slowly able to see those layers, creating a new plane, a new view of my home. I am striving to create that vision not just for myself or my family, but those who surround us. Our home, our community. Because when it comes down to it, at the end of the day it is not the amount in your bank account, or the places you have seen or the food you have shared. It is the people sitting right next you. The people, or that person, to share that meal with. The connection.  

Watching the Democratic National Convention at the beach whilst on a camping trip, we have hope for the future thanks to Harris & Waltz

How to live in a Broken World?

The first part of 2023 I was comfortable. I was acclimated to small talk, cups of tea, and had become accustomed to using colloquial phrases in England. My worries revolved around staying within our budget, planning our next adventure, and making sure I had my lunches prepared for the week. I really cannot recall too many worries, especially as I look back on it now.

Our peaceful walks on Whiteshute Ridge in Winchester, England

Now. The big win at work this week was the completion of a gun buyback event. It resulted in over 150 unwanted firearms, and thousands of rounds of ammunition being removed from Tacoma’s (Tacoma Washington USA) streets in exchange for gift cards. A gun for a gift card. Now in Tacoma, there are fewer firearms in the community and an increased awareness of firearm safety. Firearms are the number ONE cause of death for people under 24 years old, especially males. Males, my sons. The safety of children is secondary to an outdated amendment. I am living in a broken world in which is my home. 

My goal for 2024 is not just learning how to live in this broken world, but to see the joys between the shattered pieces. The minute moments of joys. The sharp feeling of the ice water as I swim in the Puget Sound. The coldness squeezes the air out of me, but then I breathe, in and out, slowly, and relief is found for a moment. I glide through the water, letting the sting penetrate, and I breathe.

Swimming in the Puget Sound

Yesterday I received my order of intranasal Narcan (naloxone), the reversal agent for opioids, from the Department of Health. It was free. All you need to do is request it. Prompted by a friend’s Facebook post about having in the car in case you find yourself near someone who has overdosed. You never know here. So, we now have one in the truck, and I plan to carry one on my bike for my commute to work.

A day earlier, the older children and my brother-in-law showed up for an impromptu dinner after. We have always tended to cook too much for the three of us, but here it never goes to waste. Before I knew it, the house was full and alive. Alvin was playing video games with his older brother, and I was sharing my thoughts of the broken world with loved ones. A moment of joy.

At work, I see parents refusing to pick up their children. They are done with their feisty, angry teenager. Once we remind them of their obligation and mention child protective services, their tone changes. But this is only after their child has lived in our ED for 3 days or sometimes much, much longer. No sunlight, no clocks, they are behavioral health patients and hence they are in a “safe room.” A patient once told me juvenile hall is better than our ED, at least there they can get some sunlight and outdoor time. The parents do finally pick them up, and we discharge them back into unwanted hands and into the broken world.

I am learning to live in this system that previously did not phase me. Before, I did not know life could be better. Now I do. A calm society with practically no gun violence. A healthcare system that is not bound by insurance “in network” restrictions. An environment that was safe for me to go running at 10pm with my only worry was not to trip over a branch. A memory, a joy.

I try not to reminisce about our time in England or our travels, which at times feels like salt on a wound. But as I grapple with my broken home, I am starting to see the first half of 2023 more as salve to carry forth into 2024.

Isle of Mull, our campsite for the night. The memories of our trip in Scotland carries me forth during the tough days at home

So as my people, immigrants who cross the Texas-Mexico border looking for a safer, better life will end up in jail due to the new law which makes it a misdemeanor. I will look at the freedom that they are seeking and embrace it. A country so vast and big, with so much freedom, too much? Is this level of freedom the cause of the fractures in our broken world?

Through the broken pieces of this world, I will continue to look through the cracks and grasp the rays of joy. The sunset off our deck, looking out onto the creamsicle colored sky and endless Puget Sound. The clear blue water which bites me as I float in it. The memories of a perfect campsite in the Scottish Highlands, so majestic that I was immune to midges. My house full and alive with loves ones. And the memories of the NHS graciousness, especially international work forces, who overwhelmed me with their gifts and words as I departed a place I now consider a second home. All the memories past and current will carry me forth in 2024, into the brokenness which I will embrace.

The nurseseye.com will continue but as of 2024 it will reflect on not only our time in England but will be a place to reflect the ever change healthcare system in the United States.

spectacular sunsets from our home

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