A Mental Picture

As I am waiting to hear from the hospital where I want to work, I am doing visualizations of my life with this job, because I want it so much. This is a magickal exercise.

I picture myself sharing an office with Lana, who currently works at this hospital. We went to college together and were actually CPR and Heimlich maneuver partners. It was pretty funny because she is almost 6 feet tall in her bare feet, and I am not quite 5'. The office is the size of a hospital inpatient room, and I will take the desk closest to the air conditioning unit, because my body temp ranges from "just-on-the-verge-of-sweatin'" to "sweatin'" and Lana's is "I-don't-need-a-jacket-yet" to "I-need-my-jacket".

I will hang pictures of my family on the wall beside my desk. In fact, I have already printed them out; they are merely waiting for their place on my office wall. I will have my own office supplies, including a rubber "fingertip" that I use to flip through medical charts quickly and efficiently, without licking my finger. Let's face it, licking one's finger in a hospital can be risky business. I will have my own email address through the hospital. I will frame my diploma, and put it on the shelf by my desk.

I will drink water all day, eat a sensible lunch and lose this 10 pounds I have gained due to school stress. I will get emails from the cancer registry of Alabama(as I will be the go-to gal for this hospital) telling me which patient charts they need abstracted. I will code @ 100 ER patient charts per day. I will get a mental picture of each cancer and ER patient, even if it is only one of my own imagining, in order to do the best job I can to input their data.

I will wear scrubs some days and "business professional" clothes some days. I will continue to cook a yummy breakfast for my children every day , which, for my children means something and bacon, pack their snacks and take them and the neighbors kids to school every morning. When they get off the bus in the afternoon, they will stay with my neighbor until I get home, on days when Chris is at his job an hour away from Nestlewood.

All will be well. So mote it be.

So mote it be.