I've lived in Grand Junction for 5 years now. How the did that happen? Initially, I found this place because of a temporary travel contract. The plan was to work for 3 months and move on. My glamorous life as a nomadic Respiratory Therapist, working all around the country came to an end quicker than I anticipated. This was only my second contract. 

 

I fit in well at the hospital and its the sort of place that actually allows you to be a "real" RT. Demonstrate a command of the profession and get rewarded with autonomy and respect. So I accepted the extension to my contract for another 3 months, and then another 5. Before I had finished the third extension, the hospital sweetened their deal- Sign on full time as the educator of the department. They thought I knew my stuff well enough that I should be paid to share it with others. A flattering sentiment, coupled with a wonderful area surrounding the town for myriad outdoor endeavors, I went for it. 

 

I've learned quite a bit in my new role. Tested myself in new ways and advanced the care that the hospital will give in the years to come. Not only have I learned, but I've been able to help others grow as well. I've influenced the development of not only my Respiratory Therapy compatriots, but also Nurses, PT's, OT's, EMTs, Paramedics and likely a few Pulmonologists as well. The job has pushed me to speak for so many different groups of healthcare professionals and even at the state RT conference. 

 

But I'm wondering if I've done what I can here. Professionally, at least. 

 

I needed a break from my work situation this time last year. I took 6 months and hiked the Continental Divide Trail to shake things up a bit. I'm now in the weird limbo between my old life and the "new" one. I could pick up at my old hospital- they've kept a spot for me. It isn't the same old gig, as that one had to be filled in my absence, but it would be what I often fantasized about when a task kept me at my desk instead of the bedside. It would be back in patient care. No stress of holding the department together or keeping a small army of quite differently capable people educated to the same level. Me and my patients. Helping save lives on the micro scale instead of macro. It actually sounds pretty nice. 

 

But this other offer has landed in my lap too. It would mean a big step further away from the bedside, a relocation, and likely a good bit more money. It's tempting and daunting. The fact that it's a little scary, I take as a good sign. Discomfort begets growth. Challenge is the only way I've really ever learned. But recent events have me questioning leaving the valley. Not because of this work related stuff, but something else. Something I've been missing without really knowing it. Something I've been slowly realizing is so important to happiness. Something I didn't even think I had here at all.... a tribe. 

 

I've been a rather self-contained, self-sufficient kind of guy for quite some time. I'm not anti-social by any means. I'm just capable of living largely without them if need be. And, for the longest time, I've thought of this as a good thing. Perhaps not.

 

 

"Happiness is only real when shared."

 

A quote from Christopher Mccandless that has stuck with me ever since my first reading of "into the wild". It is seeming to resonate more and more as I get older. My happiest memories are not typically the ones where I am alone. There are quite a few of those, but the bulk of the really great ones are with somebody...

 

I blame my worklife for my feeling of current feeling of solitude. My position as semi-management was the main problem. Just enough of "the boss" to keep friendships at least one degree of separation from real connection. I also poured much of my time into that place. The free time I had I valued a bit too much to readily share, I know now that I should have put active effort into making legitimate connections. 

 

But, It turns out, this crazy river situation a week or so ago has brought some damn fine people out of the woodwork. 

 

I might actually have some "family" here that I didn't recognize. Not only amongst my river people, but also a few other facets of my life in the grand valley. My hiatus has helped place some of these things. While that is a truly wonderful realization to make, it is coming at an unfortunate time. I've got more than one foot out the door. It may be precisely because of that position that I'm looking back fondly on the valley... as one does with an ex. Or, at least I do.

 

I've got much to process. This post has helped at least kickstart some thoughts. There may be more written on this as the feelings congeal.