She has come from space! Maybe there is something in the old legends. . .

The Virgin of Guadelupe here is represented by a Dancer in a handwoven huipil. She appears from outer space, enclosed in a mantle of light, dancing with and offering the first three ears of sacred corn from the harvest. Four open white flowers in the four directions represent the souls of ancestors who are now stars. Being a virgin goddess she is shown dancing in the sliver of the new moon, as it appears in Oaxaca.

As a good nursing student ought, I have taken my anti-insomnia pills and immediately headed for the blogger. I could be doing worse. I just wanted to take you all back to Oaxaca with me for a moment. Rather, we will ascend to the top of the mountain Pikachu in Spanish or Guie Betz its rightful name in Teotitlan, on a crisp morning under starlight and moonlight before the sun arose. Guie Betz means brother rock and there are some stories about a mysterious white light glowing at its peak and a voice speaking to the people. Don't really know if that's true, but I definitely don't discount its improbable possibility. There are also legends of travelers hiking through its beautiful land seeing strange beasts and strange men that are not from earth. And there are some stories of traveller's getting lost, entering another dimension through a porthole, never to be seen again until they reappeared weeks later unaware that they had been gone at all.

Our tale begins with a trip to the Presa on a lovely summer twilit evening. I went to Las Granadas (bed and breakfast run by Josefina and Magdalena where the ladies are all happy, the men are all weaving, and the expats sit on the open rooftops balconies reveling in drink and tacos, and making their lonely way into varying states of disconnect from the hard unwanted lives they have previously lead- baggage is properly stored, all is washed clean in the basin in front of the bathroom door, and the cares of your previous life slowly fade away as you lounge with new but very good friends in a hammock, eating fresh pomegranate that ripens on the tree in the courtyard).

This group of folks loves to go to the Presa- the big dam on the northern part of the village. We had traversed the sides of the mountain, walking through lands were goats nibbled on grasses amid slippery shards of rock, picked several star flowers- delicate stems, pure white leaves with a sweet musky smell.
A group of us- a young teotilano couple, an old codgery artist from Nebraska who was house sitting up in the hills for the summer, a Scottish photographer of underwater tropical fish, myself, and my best traveling friend, Luzi, a German girl who has been living in Australia for 6 years studying naturopathy- made loose plans to scale the beautiful Brother Rock the next day to see the sunrise over the valley. The appointed time was 5am to meet at Las Granadas, see who would be ready, have a little tea, and head up up up in the predawn darkness. Only Luzi prevailed. The others were sleeping and we left them to their dreams. Together with some trepidation, we walked to the edge of the village and up past houses to the rocky road that leads to the trailhead. Lit somewhat by the village lights below we began a trip under the foliage of cacti and trees, and large boulders. To our surprise and consternation we found no porthole nor mythical creatures from a different planet. We did see an owl that scared the piss right out of me.
We finally got to the top and realized that we would have to jump the fence that had been erected to keep unwanted hooligans such as ourselves from our prize. Easily done.

On the top of the cliff face we found an altar constructed with two green crosses above it and a candle which we lit.

It was beautiful moment before the sun peeked over the mountaintops.

We proceeded to watch the entire village and the Presa light up with the rising sun. and I did some yoga. It was not easy, but I finally got balanced well enough to extend into Queen dancer pose. Not my best extension, but considering the terrain I felt pretty successful, not to mention bound with body, mind, and breath. Awaken spine and let the kundalini flow within you and through you out into the valley below!

Finally a moment to post about my travels! So far there have been too many fascinating shenanigans to sit down and write so i will backpost . . .
I finally arrived in Teotitlan del Valle after a plane ride to cancun a one night stay in a little crappy hotel, a plane ride to oaxaca a cab ride into town and a bus ride into the pueblo. I found my way to the Chavez Santiago house where no one was home. So I sat and ate a PB sandwich until Janet arrived. I put my stuff down and we went off to her uncle's house to take part in the serious fiesta that was going on. "La Fiesta de la Preciosa Sangre de Jesucristo" basically translates to The Fiesta of the Precious Blood of Jesus Christ- sounds like pretty heavy stuff, but its really just a 2 week long party with dancing, music food, and a fair. By a fair, I mean like the NC state fair complete with junk food, games, stuffed animal prizes and rides. The rides are pretty scary- probably 30 years old, teetering on wooden blocks as they sling 20 or more people around in circles. Of course, I fearlessly enter "Musical" with a 9 year old mexican girl who screams and clutches at my arm. Maybe I should have been scared. . . .
There was also amazing Dancing! La Danza de la Pluma- Dance of the Feathers. Its a traditional dance which is a sort of reinactment of the Betrayal of Moctezuma. There are about 8 dancers (young men of the village) and two young girls. One dancer portrays Moctezuma, and the others are the soldiers fighting for him. The two girls represent La Malinche- the wife of Moctezuma, and Dona Marina- the lover of Cortez who betrayed Moctezuma. The dancers promise three years. They dance in the festival, and at other festivals (including Guelaguetza) for three years voluntarily. Its a huge honor, and for the past three years, Uriel, one of Janet's cousins is a Danzante. They are currently performing in New Mexico!!

I was looking for more cable knitting patterns, and I stumbled across this little jewel.
PROP 8 Musical starring Jack Black as Jesus

See more Jack Black videos at Funny or Die

We are on the RADIO!!!
Take a listen as Brian and I regale listeners with stories of SHAC, service, and of course Peace Corps Uzbekistan.
http://www.wchl1360.com/mp3/archives/154/HTYH_112308.mp3

Practicing the Nurse's Duty to Advocate:
There are many things in this world that I can not stand but one that tops my list as particularly heinous is infringment of civil rights! In order to support the freedom fighters, Christian and I went to the Defeat Prop 8 Rally in DC on 11/15 during a tornado watch. It was awesome- there were protests in all 50 states that day against the proposition that overturned an entire demographic's right to happiness.
The whole thing started off with hugging and group cheers and laughter and an especially raucous group from American university pictured above

Later it got seriously gnarly, the wind began to switch the house to pitch, and suddenly the hinges started to unhitch.
The sky opened up and unleashed some serious fury. That didn't stop the protesters- oh no, they were dedicated and angry. Chris and I ran away like little pansies, though, wrists a-flapping to the shelter of Hirshorn. And then we ate some tacos.

Recently we went to see Milk- a movie directed by and starring Sean Penn as Harvey Milk, the first openly gay elected official (Board of Supervisors- San Fran). He and Mayor George Moscone were assasinated in 1978, just one year after Milk was elected.
If the subject matter isn't enough to entice you- the delicious James Franco, playing Milk's lover is worth sitting through the 2 hours and 8 minutes. . . . I promise.

I was on the radio again my friends
on WCHL 1360 on your Amplitude Modulated radio , and the local Air America Station
We were recorded on a segment for "Here's to your Health" which is a regular show hosted by Dr. Adam Goldstein and Dr. Cristy Page.
Adam was actually crucial in the survival of SHAC during the 90's when it was at risk for falling into chaos (as free student run clinics are wont to do). He firmly adjoined UNC Family medicine to the clinic and we now have an attending physician and a resident physician from their practice who attend clinics to teach and supervise volunteers giving direct patient care. Without Adam's hard work I really doubt we would still have a clinic.
Anyway it was a really nice show and it will be on the air 11/29 and will then be available on the website: Lindsey's Radio Appearance but only after its already aired. . . .
It was good for several reasons- not least of which was that Christy Page was unaware that I am a NURSING student, not a med student. So she serendipitously got to share a little air time in a sort of interdisciplinary setting. I am always looking out for ways to remind Med Students/Residents/"Greybeards" that they are not the only ones on the planet that provide health service. Hmmm maybe that was a little harsh, but its kind of ridiculous for me to feel out of place in a room because I'm not a doctor or future doctor.
Maybe I'm just sensitive, but people get so excited about people in med school and don't really seem to care about nursing school. As if doctors are the most important people in the world. Personal issues aside- it was an excellent show, and all a ya'll better listen!

I got a new bike yesterday!! Rather, Mary Johnson Rockers gave me her old bike and I took it to the ReCYCLEry, Carrboro's finest bike junkyard, and the best place to heal sick bikes and get them on the road again.
Here are a few pictures that don't even come close to capturing the place which is in reality, full of natural beauty and the deep soul touching feeling of people helping each other out of genuine good-hearted compassion.









By the way, Mary Johnson Rockers is an amazing singer/songwriter who, to the delight of many Carrboronians, performs at local venues with her crew of similarly talented artists.

More to come, soon!

Happy Election Day Intrepid Voters. I'm really really hopeful that this year we will have more votes cast than American Idol, and not in a fraudulent, I'm-going-to-send-in-50-text messages kind of way.

Today I went to clinical at Dorothea Dix Hospital as I have been every Tuesday and Wednesday for the past three weeks. You can see the building where I work in the picture on the left. Dorothea Dix is the state's oldest mental hospital, and there is a creepy graveyard on the campus that has graves dating back to 1859 when the hospital was first opened. The campus is huge and ancient with wooded hills and open grassy fields. Check out the picture below- its the view of downtown Raleigh from the Dix campus.

My group works on the men's short term unit. Diagnoses of schizophrenia with psychosis, bipolar disorder, and borderline personality disorder are most common. Most of our patients experience severely disorganized thinking, auditory and visual hallucinations, and some experience homicidal or suicidal ideations. Most of the guys are very nice. Today for example, I was serenaded by a very psychotic and hyperreligious but very sweet patient in the hallway. One of the scariest parts of working at Dix is the high number of well-educated previously high-functioning patients we see. There are patients my age or younger who are college educated and just completely lost it one day.

This was a special day however, and my cute little clinical group got to go on a field trip across the parking lot to the Forensic Unit. Dix is the only hospital in the state of NC that does pre-trial assessments to determine competency for trial, and its also the only hospital in the state that can treat and house patients who are not guilty by reason of insanity (NGRI). It is basically a prison for the mentally ill, and yes they do have big metal bars everywhere and huge old school keys to open the gates.

Okay, now for the climax of my tale: a man was brought in to the short term unit 25 years ago with paranoid schizophrenia, and on the night of his admission, he murdered his roommate. He was found NGRI and sent to the forensic unit. Years later (in fact less than 10 years ago), after assaulting several staff members, it was decided that he was unmanageable and that he needed to be isolated. So they built him a cage. Yes a cage- in the middle of what used to be a rec room, Hannibal Lector style, except he got his own sink, toilet, shower and tv. Not a bad deal I guess if you have to live in an actual cage. Two years ago, they hired a new nurse manager for the unit, who apparently thought that keeping the man in a cage was actually WRONG and thus let him out to live in a normal cell, and play scrabble and put together jigsaw puzzles with all the other patients. Sadly, I never got to talk to him about the years he spent there.

These are the days that really make me love being a nursing student.

As some of you may know, the original plan was to close Dorothea Dix Hospital this fall, and move all the patients to the new Central Regional Hospital in Butner (about 1 1/2 hours away in the middle of nowhere near the Virginia line). They are definitely going to move the 80 patients on the forensic unit to Butner, if they can ever attain security regulation compliance, and leave only 60 patient beds at the Dix campus. The floors not used by the mentally ill are apparently going to house state offices.
Both patients and mental health workers have protested the move, saying the unaddressed safety concerns, design flaws, and serious staffing shortages are going to make the move a catastrophe. Health care technicians who provide the most direct patient care are crucial to patient and staff safety. They get paid $11/hour starting. These guys basically get to choose between finding another job and spending half their paycheck on a 1 1/2 hour commute to and from work everyday.

In North Carolina, mental health is plummeting as quickly as the stock market.

Yesterday a radiology tech was killed by a bus at the end of my road. Bad luck for the Chapel Hill Transit. That's fatality number two in less than 5 months, separated only by a few hundred yards. Back in May, a Scottish exchange student was hit and killed by a bus in the next intersection down the street. Yes, these are two intersections that I frequently cross to get to school and clinical rotations at the hospital, and yes, I plan on igniting flares each time my pretty toe touches asphalt in these intersections.
The poor first year med students on the bus got out and tried to help (they were able to open her airway a bit and get her breathing again). By the time the paramedics loaded her up and took her off, one of the first year students was just as white as a sheet with his cute brown eyes bugging out of his sweet little face. He must have been completely traumatized. I sincerely hope he seeks counseling at Student Health. There's nothing that will make you question your career choice more than feeling like a failure during a life-threatening emergency that someone in your line of work should essentially take charge of.
You can read the whole story if you want. Courtesy of DTH
take home message:
YEILD TO THE HEELS!!!

evan, caught in the act of cramming for a pharmacology exam