Lists

I have become a writer and follower of lists. I use small pads of plain paper. Three inches by five. I like to write my lists with a bold roller-ball pen in black ink. 

I am 62. We older folks need lists of some kind, perhaps more than our younger neighbors. Our brains don't work the same way. I am fine with that. 

I started making lists as a young nurse. A corridor of patients with highly specific needs can be daunting. Forgetting something has consequences, sometimes very serious consequences. Apologizing to a patient who has soiled his bed because you weren't there to help him up is cold comfort. Letting an IV run dry is unacceptable. Not changing a bandage could lead to an infection.

A benefit of writing separate lists for the short term and long term is the reflection inspired by reviewing them as the time approaches to tick off the items. "Do I really need to do this right now? Shouldn't I do that before I do this? Do I even need this?" These are some of the questions that run through my mind regularly while editing my lists. 

I have found my lists are a form of personal accountability. I can't ignore things which I don't want to do. Something can't be crossed off unless it is done. If my mind thinks, "I should do such and such," I write it on my list for the future. If I read it later and scratch my head, I know it was simply an unimportant whim. 

Finding what I need when I open my refigerator is a great benefit of keeping lists. Having the tools and materials to complete a project quickly and efficiently is another. The most gratifying benefit is being able to relax with the knowledge that I am on top of things that can support my daily practice. When life's emergencies occur, I appreciate this tremendously.