Mother Fiona

“…and this is a great bench to come and sit on whenever you want to just relax or if you ever have to clear your head and re-focus.”

It was the end of my first day of my first day back to work since my return from Saudi Arabia 3.5 months ago. My new boss was showing me around the area for which I would be responsible in my temporary contract job as Public Health Nurse for First Nations and Inuit Health in the Lillooet area.

I stared, transfixed by what was quite possibly the most perfect bench I had even seen. It sat alone on a cliff overlooking the icy turquoise blue waters of Seton Lake, just on the outskirts of Lillooet. The bench was partially sheltered from the wind by the thick, knobby trees surrounding it, but the sun still managed to warm the worn, varnished wood as it seeped lazily through the bare gnarly branches. While the sun’s rays cast their calm, quiet beauty on my future sitting spot, I realized this picture-perfect scene was in reality the epilogue to a summer so dry and hot, much of the area (to within a mere kilometer of the town and to the point of evacuation) had been under siege of raging wildfires, and many of the trees had actually been bare for months. The slowing of time seemed to extend to the valley itself as the snow capped peaks yawned apart in the distance, and the lake seemed to empty at some indefinite point into the alpine esophagus. The mountains nearby yielded towering craggy, humbling rock faces, spattered with fiery autumn ground vegetation, almost as if the traumatic events of a few months before had been still-shot into the landscape as an unresolved grudge of mother nature’s recent rage.

Strangely enough, I was only vaguely aware of all this surrounding me as I eyed the bench warily…judging from the events which had taken place that day, my rear end would no doubt become well acquainted with that bench during the next few months in the “clear-your-head” context.

I knew I was in a little over my head, and I accepted this position well aware of this in degrees of varying potential. All I was hoping for was a boss with whom I could be transparent about this fact, and as long as I showed initiative and willingness to learn, she would be supportive of me in every way possible. In this way, I got my wish. However, THIS I did not expect:

It started within 20 mins of arriving this morning…my experience thus far with the agency who had placed me here had been marginal at the best of times, so I showed up with a general idea of what I would be doing, but by no means did I have an actual job description. Following introductions, my wonderful new boss did not hesitate to go over this disparity with me. For the next 6 weeks, maybe more, I would have a brand new government truck with very cool gov. of Canada logos, studded winter tires (for driving to the reservation under my jurisdiction which was 1.5 hrs one way down a sketchy logging road), I would have my very own huge office overlooking the mountains, a wad of keys bigger than my head for all the secure cupboards, drawers, and remote health clinics I would be using, a government expense credit card, and every other Friday off…Sweet…but I would also be responsible for the health of 3 reserves in the area, all of which housed between 200-400 people, all influenza and H1N1 vaccination blitzes and education, co-ordination with health Canada for reporting, implementation of prevention programs, pandemic identification and management…Shit…but it didn’t end there.

As my head spun a little with the immensity of this scope I would be responsible for with essentially no real relevant experience and 2-3 days of orientation (the life of an agency nurse!), I realized that my new mentor’s mouth was still moving, and I focused and re-tuned in: “our other equally important scope here is healthy mother and baby programs”.

The silence became slightly awkward as I waited for the “catch” phrase of “but as you are only here temporarily, so you will only have to worry about the influenza and communicable disease protocols”. It didn’t come. Yes, friends and family, for a minimum of the next 6 weeks, I will be solely responsible for pre and post partum assessments, teaching breastfeeding, proper health and rearing of infants and children, assessment of developmental stages in preschool kids, and I am sure many other little brat-related health issues I cannot even begin to fathom in my blissfully child-ignorant mind.

***We are going to take a pause here for those of you who know me well enough to know that my reproductive biological clock has not yet even evolved to sundial stage, let alone started to tick. Please, go wipe your eyes and empty your mirth strained bladders as you find the ironical humor in this situation that I have not quite yet come to terms with***

The reality set in as I started to pick out words like “trimester”, “infant dental hygiene” (WTF babies don’t have teeth!? Who knew you had to wipe the little things’ gums with a facecloth?!) and “breast pump” (oh God.). Each new term was like the addition of more vinegar to the grade 3 science fair baking soda volcano that was my anxiety. I realized that I was about to undertake a learning curve so steep it might very well teeter over backwards and crush me.

Now writing to you several hours later, having spent a good portion of the evening in sub-catatonic denial, I have somehow managed to come to very distant terms with this. Actually, I have pacified (haha) myself with the knowledge that for the next couple of weeks at least, the influenza vaccines will be the priority thus giving me several more weeks of relatively warranted ambrosial ignorance to the child related responsibilities ominously pending over me. Thus, I will enjoy these last few blissfully adult weeks of my life, starting by finishing this second glass of good red Argentinean wine in blissful silence…

Karma works in strange ways…

Xo

Fi