Profession

Bust

My stylist Gina was available, having had a cancellation and was willing to wedge a friend in, and when we left the salon, a good foot and a half of Torunn's hair was gone, leaving it just touching her shoulders, cut chicly, and she'd had faint violet highlights added to her black hair as well as a gloss treatment. She looked urban and stylish, and she couldn't stop touching it. "It feels so light!" she marveled. We had a late lunch, and she went off to do some shopping. I went to Aunt Emma's and picked up a pair of amethyst earrings that I'd give to Torunn to celebrate her emancipation. Aunt Emma said that Deri had been in to work with Uncle Steve on her wedding gown and that he wouldn't comment on it, but work had begun immediately. We were silent a moment, considering this.

"I feel like we should brace for impact," I said, and she laughed. "But at least Uncle Steve will make sure it's not gaudy or vulgar. Deri gets carried away."

"She asked me to design the bridesmaids gifts, diamond bracelets." My eyebrows rose. "And one for her too, a little more ornate."

"Somehow, that knowledge fills me with apprehension," I said.

"It's Deri," she said, and we nodded at each other.

I was a little concerned about Deri's plans--not that I'd ever imagined that her wedding would be anything but a three-ring circus--but I didn't have too many responsibilities, thanks to her hard-working wedding planners. I'd helped her shop for her dress and ours, and I had the contact information for the other five bridesmaids, so I'd gotten them appointments for ordering their dresses and their fittings. The store had Deri's directions for hem height, and we had all ordered the specified shoes to be dyed. There were small matching handbags as well, since the bias-cut, slinky dresses didn't allow pockets. And at least the dresses were beautiful; I'd seen some real monstrosities in the store: florals, wide, off the shoulder ruffles, bloused tops, high button necks with smocked yokes, a wrap design that I could foresee disaster when somebody had too much to drink. But Deri would never allow anything not stylish in her wedding. I'd made sure that everybody had dragged their carcasses in for measurements and was following up with reminders to be prompt when the store called about the fittings. Most of my duties wouldn't crop up until closer to the wedding. They weren't having a registry, thanks to the bounty of the crowded attic, and they would be requesting donations to charity in lieu of wedding gifts.

But otherwise, things were looking good. My brain chemistry was settling down, eliminating the mood swings and muting the pure joy into a happiness that was less distracting. I easily finished the pharmacopeia/pharmacology class with a solid understanding of how to compound medicine, administer medication, check dosing, and check for drug interactions (rare these days) and allergies (more of a concern.) I began my first internship in a general health practice, which was usual; they kind of wanted to ease us into nursing before big stuff came up. I quickly was proficient in taking vital signs, ordering and interpreting scans, collecting samples for testing, conducting some of the simpler analyses, writing case histories for physicians to read before meeting the patients. There was a real shortage of doctors, so nurses were trained to fill in gaps and streamline things for the patients so that doctors only had to check our work, answer the most technical questions or address complex analyses. It was busy work that required a lot of concentration and people skills that I had to develop under guidance from my supervising nurse. A certain detachment from the patients was necessary; the work could be emotionally draining and you didn't need too much empathy making it harder. I had reflections to turn in each week and my supervisor also had to submit reports, but from the general practice, it was on to OB/GYN/pediatrics. That was the pits, from a personal perspective. The yearly tests were easy, just scans that were able to detect abnormal cells and determine if treatment was possibly needed; the nurses read the scans, and if it looked iffy, forwarded them to a doctor. The problems were the women who couldn't get pregnant for reasons we couldn't pinpoint, or women who were pregnant who didn't want to be, and the birth process completely grossed me out. I didn't really like babies, so the end result of all that work didn't really seem worth it to me. I would never say so to Grandpa Damian, but I totally supported the use of an artificial uterus. So much less mess and stress, but although they were available, not widely used. Apparently, most women wanted to push a melon-sized object out of their bodies through small apertures. During that rotation, I assisted on only one problematical delivery, but the premature baby was quickly supported medically and was able to go home after a quick surgery and a week in the hospital.