ADVENTURES IN NURSING

MRS. GIGGLES

This lady was the very definition of “a hoot.”  She was morbidly obese, had the sweetest little face I’d ever seen, and very much enjoyed skewering you with the truth about yourself, accompanied by an evil little grin.  She and B (my former best friend), were the first to diagnose me as passive-aggressive, all because of my love/hate relationship with nursing school.  Thanks for that insight, Mrs. G!

She was our instructor at our second nursing home clinical.  It was her personal mission to ensure that we had lots of fun, while still learning what we needed to know.  She was a slave driver, but so much fun to be around that we didn’t care.  I have never giggled so much while sober as I did during that time. 

My most outstanding memory of Mrs. G involved a relatively attractive 20-something young man who was being rehabbed for something or other.  The student assigned to him reported to Mrs. G that he had an interesting tattoo.  That’s all she needed to hear.  Immediately, she led all eight of us female students en masse to his room, insisting that we all needed to see his body art as part of our education.  Gawd, I loved that woman!

Said patient was only too happy to comply.  He was apparently inordinately proud of the word “WOW” inscribed on his butt for all eternity.  Mrs. G was a giggly mess by this time, but collected her wits long enough to note that, if he stood on his head, his tattoo would say “MOM.”  Now, there’s a thought to make any mom proud, right?  The fringe benefit of all this was that this man did, indeed, have an excellent derriere, and we all enjoyed being able to view it, for clinical reasons only, of course.

And we thought Mrs. B-1 was outrageous!    

NEXT UP:  MRS. J 

ADVENTURES IN NURSING

MRS. B-2

B-2 was much more laid back as a classroom instructor than her counterpart.  Most of the time, this was a good thing.  Sometimes, though, it resulted in long, boring discussions as she attempted to justify why she wasn’t going to change someone’s quiz or test grade.  There was always some student who was willing to engage B-2 in this futile attempt.  One had to wonder if the student was doing it purposely just to fill up the time B-2 should have been teaching us something ... anything!

She had some fascinating stories to tell.  She had begun her career as a nursing assistant, became an LPN, went on to get her RN, and then her Master’s so that she could teach.  She was fond of telling us how she had once weighed 300 pounds, and then became “half the woman she was back then.”  She taught us that a 150-pound woman, if she used proper body mechanics, could transfer a 300-pound man from bed to chair without assistance.  I personally never tested her assertion.  Maybe Hoyer lifts weren’t around in her nursing assistant days.

I’ve never forgotten a story she told us one Monday morning.  She was “parrot-sitting” for a friend the previous weekend, and was cleaning out his cage before the owner came to pick him up.  She opened the cage door and allowed the bird to fly out for a little “free time” during the chore.  Unfortunately, she had forgotten that her ceiling fan was on.  Yep, you guessed it.  The poor parrot flew immediately into the fan, and parrot parts went flying hither and yon all over the room.  I’ll never be able to erase the image I get from that incident from my brain. 

B-2’s flightiness worked in my favor one day.  Remember the injection test I failed?  My second test was supervised by B-2.  I was a nervous wreck, knowing this was my last chance to get signed off on it or I wouldn’t be going to first-year clinicals, which would have opened up a whole big old can of worms.  I swabbed the mannequin’s arm and remembered to leave the swab in place.  I took the cap off the needle and by this point, my hands were shaking so badly, I immediately dropped the syringe on the floor. 

As luck would have it, Mrs. B-2 had been distracted by another instructor in the room, and didn’t even notice when I quickly bent over, swooped up the syringe, and returned to a standing position before she turned back around to observe.  At least I think that was the case.  Either way, she didn’t mention it and I wasn’t about to.  I proceeded with the injection and BOOM, just like that, I had passed.  My knees went weak, I tell ya.  Just for the record, a future clinical instructor told me that I gave the best IM injections she had ever seen from a student.  I just needed to get past that terrifying test.

While B-2 could get quite monotonous at times, she did make more of an effort to be friendly than B-1, who preferred to keep things business-like most of the time.  She also got quite the kick out of seeing cute hunky married guy blush, which he did quite often.  Of course, the rest of us got quite the kick out of that, too.  He was just so easily embarrassed.

Another incident involving B-2 was when four of us reported to her that we had seen a particular high-schooler cheating on quizzes.  She wasn’t all that good at being sneaky about.  In fact, she was actually quite obvious about it.  B and I both saw it, and a couple of the other students asked us about it.  That’s when we decided to report it.  We were told early on in the program that we were obligated to report such things, so we went as a group to inform Mrs. B-2. 

Just a few days later, after I had finished that day’s quiz, I noticed the student glancing at her neighbor’s paper once again, and at that moment B-2 happened to look up and notice what was going on.  The student was out of the program the next day.  Cheating is a major infraction in any situation in the real world.  I felt badly for the student, but that behavior was unacceptable.  If you have to cheat to get through the program, then chances are good that you’re not going to be a good nurse.

NEXT UP:  MRS. GIGGLES

ADVENTURES IN NURSING

MRS. B-1

We had two classroom instructors and Mrs. B-1 was my absolute favorite, hands down.  She was smart.  She was organized.  She was political.  She was no nonsense.  She was outrageous.

She strode into class each day determined to pound some necessary knowledge into our brains come hell or high water.  She was relentless.  On the days when we would review the components and functions of a certain organ or system, she would have each of us, one by one, explain from start to finish like an assembly line.  There was no stalling or heming or hawing.  If you didn’t spew the answer within a few seconds, she moved on to the next person.  She was tough but we loved her.

She above all of our instructors encouraged ... practically demanded ... that on that bright shining day when we finally became nurses, we should immediately start working to change the nursing profession for the better.  We were so clueless, or at least I was.  I had no idea the profession needed changing.  FYI:  It does.

Before our first-year clinicals began, it was necessary that we learn how to give an IM injection.  We went through every orange in the state of Florida learning the techniques.  Okay, maybe it wasn’t EVERY orange, but pretty damn close.  I felt supremely confident on the day we were to take procedure test.  Mrs. B-1 had us all line up in the clinical classroom and one by one, we swabbed either the arm or the derriere of the big rubber humanoid lying in the bed.  I was thankful that I was near the end of the line and able to watch the other students working their magic.  “Piece of cake,” I thought.  If they could do it, then so could I.

At last, it was my turn.  I swabbed the proper area on the upper arm.  I picked up the syringe loaded with water.  I held it like a dart and inserted it into the previously-swabbed spot.  I pushed the plunger, and withdrew the syringe.  I capped the needle.  (We did that back then.)  There!  I had done it!  Whew! 

I was celebrating prematurely, unfortunately.  Mrs. B-1 looked at me and asked question one.  “How did you know where to shoot?”  I stammered something to the effect that I shot where I swabbed.  Question two:  “How do you know that’s where you swabbed?”  I was confused.  Was she not standing right there when I swabbed?  My brain was racing as I stood there trying to look confident.  “What was she talking about?”  She soon let me know.  I had unknowingly placed the alcohol swab on the bed beside the mannequin.  Ruh roh.  I should have left it in place on the upper arm.  Such a tiny mistake, but enough for me to flunk my injection test.  Mrs. B-1 was not cutting us any slack.  I grudgingly respected that but I was still devastated.

As my rotten luck would have it, B-1 was my instructor for first-year clinicals.  On our very first day in the nursing home, she watched closely as we practiced our glucose testing skills on each other.  As my rotten luck would again have it, we were an uneven number of students and I was required to test her blood sugar.  Luckily, I must have done it properly because she sent me on my way out to the floor, but that didn’t change the fact that it was 7:15 and I was already drenched in sweat.  This nursing stuff was nerve-wracking as hell.

My very favorite memory of B-1 was during our study of the female reproductive system.  On the day she was explaining all about the cervix, she informed us of how we could locate our own cervix, with the aid of a mirror, and encouraged us all to do so that night.  Umm ... I was probably not going to do that.  If I were curious enough, I would simply take another look at the pictures in my textbook.  That was good enough for me.

The next morning, she bustled into class, opened her book, looked at us all sitting there expectantly and stated, “Well, I’m sure you all went home last night and located your cervix, right?”  After several seconds of shocked silence, we all burst out laughing hysterically.  Who would have thought it?  Normally serious, business-like Mrs. B-1 had a wicked sense of humor.  That may have been our first hint that there is no modesty in the nursing profession.

Mrs. B-1 was my conscience after I began working as a nurse.  I often asked myself, “What would Mrs. B-1 do in this situation?”  I tried to live up to her standards, but they were tough ones.  I’m not sure I accomplished it very often, but I’d be proud to say that I was even half the nurse she was.  She inspired us all.              

        ADVENTURES IN NURSING

OUR CLASSMATES

Our class began with 43 students.  We graduated 29 two years later.  We lost 13 of those during the first quarter.  Nursing school has a way of weeding out the faint of heart early on.  The remaining “drop-out” was encouraged to leave by our instructors.  We all felt bad for her.  

She was a perfectly nice lady.  Her grades were excellent.  She just wasn’t catching on to the whole “ALL patients come first” concept.  She had good clinical skills with her own charges, but when asked to assist another student with care or a procedure, she would finish up her own chores (making beds, emptying bedpans, tidying rooms) first.  That didn’t set well with the Mrs. Bs, and off she went.  The last time I saw her, she was managing a Burger King and seemed perfectly content.

Let’s see what I remember of the others.  There was, of course, the cute, hunky, married guy, K, who became our class president.  Everybody loved him.  He was just that kind of guy.  He was funny as hell, and you could make him blush just by winking at him – another excellent student.  Damn!  This class was full of them.

There was J, a very serious, proper-looking 40-something lady.  I believe she was our vice-president.  I also believe she took more notes than any two people, which probably explains why she was an excellent student.  The competition for good grades was brutal!

We had a brother-sister act, B and D, late 30s.  They were rather an enigma.  They lived with their parents, and neither one had a driver’s license.  Their father provided their transportation every day.  I suspect they had some serious health issue that precluded them from driving.  They were somewhat shy, modest, and just all around a couple of sweet folks.

Then we had K, who was just real people.  She tended to stress out easily over quizzes, tests, and assignments.  One of her favorite things to do was debate her grades with the Mrs. Bs, earnestly trying to convince them that her answer COULD be right if you looked at it from THIS perspective.  It rarely worked, but that didn’t stop her from trying.  She had a wicked wit, too.  I liked that ... a lot.

Who else?  Oh yeah, R, a lady who became a good friend to B and me.  We visited each other’s houses, her daughter cut our hair, and she attended our graduation party.  She was pretty damn smart, too.  She moved to Texas after graduation and we’ve lost touch.  I sometimes wonder how nursing treated her over the years.

There was the tall, blond, beautiful Nordic-type lady, T1, who was a hoot-and-a-half.  She enjoyed muttering outrageous comments under her breath during lectures.  I sat next to her one quarter and she kept me in stitches, and also earned me some curious glares from B-1, who no doubt wondered what I found so amusing about the endocrine system.  If she only knew.

A few of the high-schoolers are worth mentioning here.  Four or five of them made it to graduation, which I considered a real testament to their time-management skills.  There were the two As, best friends, cheerleaders, and quite giggly.  They were both smart as whips, though, which used to piss me off no end.  I was so clueless at their age, my only claim to fame was winning a Latin spelling bee.  One thing I always thought was so unique about A1 was the fact that she still had all her baby teeth.  Isn’t that odd?  They looked like little Chiclets.  She was going to have to undergo major dental work and have them all pulled at some future date if she didn’t lose them naturally.

T was another cheerleader who was cute, funny, smart, and enjoyed a little underage drinking on the weekends.  We sat together another quarter and I began to live vicariously through her, enjoying hearing her stories as much as she enjoyed telling them.  She was a wild one!

J was our only male high-schooler, and he seemed a little embarrassed at the fact.  He tried to remain invisible most of the time, but he was so cute that the Mrs. Bs weren’t having any of that.  They both enjoyed watching these men blush!

There were many more classmates whose names and faces escape me at the moment.  I’m sure my memory will be jogged by future stories in this adventure in nursing.  Suffice it to say, though, that we were a motley crew.  We were tough.  We were tenacious.  We were determined.  We were delusional.  Wait!  No, scratch that last one!  That can’t be right!

NEXT UP:  A LITTLE ABOUT THE MRS. Bs

ADVENTURES IN NURSING

DAY FIVE OF NURSING SCHOOL

Look at us!  We made it to day five.  Now, let’s just see if we can make it THROUGH day five.  Oh, my – it looks like a few more folks have fallen by the wayside.  Ms. Hiccup is still here, as are most of the other high-schoolers.  They’re a hardy lot!

Per usual, we get yesterday’s quizzes back from both Mrs. B’s.  I haven’t failed one since that second day, and no matter how hard I study, B always gets a higher score than I do.  What’s her secret?  Being 12 years younger than me?  Being smarter than me?  Having a better memory?  She and I will have to talk.

Today’s lectures are finishing up with chapter one of A & P from B-1, and more fascinating stories from B-2, with a few nuggets of actual nursing information thrown in.  Keep those prefixes and suffixes coming.  I just can’t get enough of ‘em!

More good news!  We’ll have our first actual TEST on Monday from B-1 AND B-2.  Well, so much for enjoying our weekend, right?  Do these ladies even have hearts?  Probably.  Do they have lives?  Most definitely, ‘cause they’re not learning all this crap anew.  They’ve already been through that and obviously, we are to suffer as they did. 

They’re not much interested in any plans we may have had for the weekend, or the fact that some of us have kids, and responsibilities, and chores, and OTHER homework, in the case of the high-schoolers.  This is NURSING SCHOOL and we’d better just get used to it.  What’s that sound?  Thirty-plus nursing students groaning!  B-1 fakes a yawn.  B-2 just grins.  Hey, wait a minute.  Are they ENJOYING this?

B and I ride home in the near silence of exhaustion.  Later, she gathers up her children and is off to her sister’s house for the weekend.  She can’t get out of the house fast enough, as if that’s where all the evil lives.  Ha!  She can’t escape it.  It travels with her in the form of the five-pound A & P book, and all the notes from B-2.  Life is changing.

And that’s just week one of nursing school.  Even though it happened so many years ago, the memories are burned into my brain.  In retrospect, I suppose I could say it was the wake-up call I needed.  I tried to deny it but alas, there’s no room or time for denial when you’re a nursing student.  You either keep your feet in the stirrups, or you get thrown off the horse.  That’s the reality, and it was time to face it.  There really were no other options.  You just can’t fake your way through.

That night, after the kids were in bed, and I nodded off wearily over A & P, I kept reminding myself that “I can do this,” and “This is good for me,” I thought of all the nurses out there on the planet, and wondered HOW they did it, and was it REALLY good for me.  Hopefully, the answer to those questions, and more, would eventually be revealed.

Please be assured that I’m not gonna take you through each and every painful day one by one.  Future blogs will just hit the highlights and the memories that still stand out to this day.  There were good times and bad.  There were even a few times when we actually had fun, but the Mrs. B’s did try to limit that, lest we get spoiled by all the frivolity.  Nobody said nursing was fun.

ADVENTURES IN NURSING

OUR FOURTH DAY OF NURSING SCHOOL

Day #4 and we’re still going at it.  We’ve lost a couple more people by now.  They’re dropping like flies.  We’re getting friendly with a few of the grown-ups, and B and I are realizing that we’re not the only ones who are feeling like fish out of water.  Thank God.  That gives us hope.

Mrs. B-1 hustles in and begins to return yesterday’s quiz to us.  Shoot!  Darn!  Heck!  (Those are not the words that were going through my head, but they’re close enough.)  I failed my first quiz of nursing school.  Boy, do I feel like an idiot.  Not exactly the brilliant beginning for which I was hoping.  And look at B over there with her A minus.  Bitch!  (And I mean that in the best possible way.)  It just might behoove me to begin studying with her.  We can be our own little study group of two.  I do not want a repeat of this fiasco.  Time to get serious.

But wait there’s more!  Here comes today’s quiz on Chapter one of A and P.  Hey, I actually know some of this stuff.  Let’s say a silent prayer that I actually pass this one.  It’s only day four and my brain feels crammed with information already.  Do I actually need to know this crap?  Do people actually survive nursing school?  I suppose they must.

On to Chapter two of A and P.  Hustling right along.  Listen to lecture, take notes on lecture, rinse and repeat.  Occasionally, someone will ask a question and we get sidetracked for several minutes.  Mrs. B-1 doesn’t waste much time on such nonsense.  She’s got a schedule to maintain.  We’re welcome to visit the nursing library in the next room for additional information, but let’s stick to the lesson plan for now.  In other words, hear it, digest it, learn it, and spew it back out when you need to.  That’s how we do nursing school.  ARGHHH!

Blessed break time.  Time to stuff my face with junk food so my brain and body will continue to function.  Time to spend 15 minutes gossiping with our new friends, wondering who will be next to leave us.  We’re determined it won’t be any of us.  We are grown-ups after all.  Fingers crossed.

Time for Mrs. B-2, whose teaching style is completely different from Mrs. B-1.  First, naturally, we get today’s quiz from her, and I feel better prepared for that.  She then returns yesterday’s quiz, which I passed!  Just barely, but I’ll take it for now. 

Her lecture begins, but she’s easily distracted by questions.  Already a couple of people are using this to their advantage.  The lesson goes off on tangents, and there’s very little note taking because we’re getting very little real information from her.  We do, however, hear lots of stories from her nursing career.  Some of them are interesting, and some of them cause me to wonder why anyone ever wants to be a nurse.  B and I write notes to each other, wondering if this day will ever end.

It does end – finally.  We spend several minutes leaning against our car talking to a couple of classmates while we smoke our blessed cigarette.  The cute hunky married guy is becoming a friend, as is the lovely longhaired lady from the nearby Indian reservation town.  They seem just like us - real people with kids, too many bills, not enough money, and not enough time to get it all done.  We’re not alone!  Life is hard and nursing school is making it harder.  But, we’re on a mission and, by God, we’re gonna make this thing happen!  We will not be defeated!  We’re feeling pretty frisky since the next day is Friday.

NEXT UP:  DAY FIVE OF NURSING SCHOOL     

ADVENTURES IN NURSING

OUR THIRD DAY IN NURSING SCHOOL

Surprise!  We hadn’t quit yet!  B and I had to remind each other that this was our only hope to actually have a life, be independent, and make a difference.  We slogged through into Day Three!

Mrs. B-1 moseys in and hands out our first quiz.  Say whaaat??  B and I roll our eyes at each other.  Was she serious?  It appears that she was.  What was that lecture on again?  Oh, yeah, “The History of Nursing.”  Well, la-di-da.  Here we go, folks.

I was struggling.  Damn it, why hadn’t I read that handout?  I remember now – because in my all-fired wisdom, I found the subject matter boring and uninteresting.  Names, and dates, and places – OH, MY!  I couldn’t even make an uneducated guess at most of the questions.  Meanwhile, B sits next to me ticking off answers all willy-nilly.  Damn her for studying anyway. 

Lesson learned – nobody cares whether or not I found the subject boring and uninteresting.  If the instructor lectured on it, I damn well better remember it.  I’m pretty sure I was several shades paler as I handed in my half-answered quiz paper. 

After that debacle, Mrs. B-1 began hauling out our first textbook, “Anatomy and Physiology.”  Damn, that was a heavy book, and just chock-full of several hundred pages.  There was no time to riffle through it as we began to immediately learn the contents of Chapter One.  Now this stuff seemed a lot more interesting to me.

When break time rolled around, we were all a-buzz discussing our first quiz.  I wasn’t the only one caught unawares of the seriousness of this whole nursing school thing, it seemed.  Apparently, there was to be no easing into learning this stuff.  It was more “sink or swim,” and a few of us were feeling overwhelmed – on our third day. 

Well, would you look at this!  Here comes Mrs. B-2, with an armload of papers.  Are you freakin’ serious??  Another quiz?  Yep-a-doodle, another quiz – just like they told us.  Great googly moogly, what were these ladies trying to do to us, weed out the riff-raff?  I do believe that was their intention.  At least I was able to answer more questions than not this time.  That had to be a good sign, right?

My head was reeling as Mrs. B-2 collected our quizzes and began her lecture of the day.  I was giving myself my own private lecture about buckling down, learning how to study again, and taking this sh** seriously.  I definitely needed an attitude adjustment.  If I was going to sit through two years of this, and pay for it besides, I needed to put forth more of an effort.  Damn, that computer programming class was sounding better all the time.

At the end of the day, we walked out to the parking lot with a few classmates, all bemoaning the fact that we were not prepared for this.  B and I spent the ride home with me grilling her about the quiz questions.  “What did you put for yadda yadda yadda?”  “How about the one on blah blah blah?”  Cripes, I was worried.

We spent the hour or so before the kids arrived home from school reviewing the quiz material.  Now I was REALLY worried.  There was only one solution – STUDY MY A** OFF.  Reality bites.

Once all the kidlets were tucked in bed that night, B took herself off to her room with her “Anatomy and Physiology” book, while I sat at the kitchen table, taking notes on Chapter 1.  I was beginning to feel like a student.  I was also beginning to feel like an old woman.  Doubts began to creep in, but I forced myself to focus.  I wasn’t looking forward to seeing my quiz grades the next day.

NEXT UP:  OUR FOURTH DAY OF NURSING SCHOOL            

ADVENTURES IN NURSING

OUR SECOND DAY OF NURSING SCHOOL

Being dedicated, dutiful little welfare moms, we went back for Day 2.  Not everyone did!  We noticed the absence of a few of those who had been there the day before – including the two senior citizens!  Oh, damn!  I was in danger of being the oldest student in the class.  Thank goodness, I hung on to my fantasy that I looked 10 years younger than I actually was.  A girl’s gotta have her dreams, right?

Mrs. B-1 strode in and got right down to the business of “The History of Nursing.”  Yeah, yeah, Florence Nightingale, Clara Barton, the Crimean War, dates and places – BORING!  I was not paying attention.  I glanced over at B and she was freakin’ TAKING NOTES!  “What a dweeb,” thought I.  After all, it was just nursing history.  What did it matter?  I wanted some meat and potatoes, and we were getting saltines without the cheese.  I did manage to stay awake, though, and silently patted myself on the back for that accomplishment.  

Break time!  B and I looked around at the other students, and wondered who else was missing from Day 1.  Had someone clued them in on what was ahead for us, and they decided, “Hell, no!  I won’t go!”  That would be my first guess.

We observed a few of them covertly, wondering how long they would last and if they were worth getting to know.  We were down from 43 students to 40 already.  About one third of them were high school kids.  I was sure most of those hapless youngsters would crash and burn. 

I imagined they were probably seduced by the allure of “the glamorous world of nursing.”  As unaware as I was, even I knew that nursing involved dealing with disgusting bodily fluids, germs, bedpans, drudge work, and the putting of your hands into the private places of complete strangers.  I assumed we would be hearing a few comments like, “Eww!  Gross!”  And that would be the end of little Miss Blond and Bouncy Cheerleader and her best friend two rows in front of us.    

There were a few interesting possibilities here and there – mature types who looked like they had a little life experience, as well as common sense.  Time would tell.  There was also a quite hunky gentleman sitting behind us, complete with outrageous dimples and wedding ring.  We would continue to monitor that situation.

Then it was Mrs. B-2’s turn.  She handed out lists of prefixes and suffixes that related to nursing terms, and would could in handy for the rest of our lives.  We were to memorize them.  They were important.  In the meantime, we would go over each one individually as a class because she had two hours to kill and nothing else to talk about.  Lovely.

Before this class time was over, our attention was drawn to the high-schooler in the last row.  She wasn’t hard to miss.  “HIC!” she said loudly.  She apparently had a “hiccup issue.”  She was afflicted with uncontrollable, sudden-onset hiccup episodes.  After all eyes in the room were turned in her direction, we heard, “Sorry!  (giggle, giggle, HIC!)  I can’t help (HIC!) it.  When I get nervous (HIC!), I hiccup.  (HIC!)”  Isn’t that precious?

We survived the last hour of Mrs. B-2’s monotone recitation of the Latin origins of the prefixes and suffixes.  Good times!  Then, blessed escape once again.

I confess, being the catty little bitches that we were, B and I spent the ride home torturing each other with our own fake hiccup episodes, and giggling about how hilarious we both were.  Yeah, we were feeling quite superior to the young’uns in the class.  Nursing school has a way of knocking that right out of you, though.

NEXT UP:  OUR THIRD DAY OF NURSING SCHOOL

OUR FIRST DAY OF NURSING SCHOOL

As soon as my eyes opened that morning, I remembered what day it was.  My feet hit the floor and immediately, a swarm of butterflies began break dancing in my tummy.  I kid you not.  That’s exactly what it felt like.  There was no time to think about that, though.  It was time to start what would be my normal weekday routine for the next nine months.

B and I roused all the various children, got them washed, brushed, dressed, fed and ready for the school bus.  We both felt slightly queasy and said silent prayers that we wouldn’t upchuck in public, surrounded by strangers.

We dressed in our finest welfare attire – our least tattered jeans and cleanest tee shirts – and made ourselves as presentable as we could.  After we saw the kids off, we hopped in my old beat-up, broken-down red Honda and headed off to school ourselves.  We had no idea what to expect, and were both still bundles of nerves.

We walked into our classroom, sat down next to each other, and began to look around as others entered the room.  Hey, what’s going on here?  Some of these folks look like teenagers.  Well, that’s because they were.  This school had an arrangement with the area high schools whereby students could enter the LPN program in their junior year, and by the time their high school graduation rolled around two years later, they would also have their LPN diplomas.  What a deal!  Personally, I could not imagine taking on that kind of responsibility when I was 16 or 17 years old.  Hell, I was having trouble taking on that kind of responsibility NOW!

As B and I sat there and watched more students file into the room, I found myself just praying that I wouldn’t be the oldest relic in the class.  “Please, God, let a few senior citizens wander in.”  At last, a few geezer types answered my prayer, along with some 20- and 30-something types.  Another silent prayer - “Thank you, God!”

After a few minutes, Mrs. B-1 (soon-to-be our favorite instructor) entered the room.  She was very professional and business-like and proceeded to tell us how things were going to be.  We would attend classes for four hours each weekday afternoon.  Mrs. B-1 would teach for two hours, and then Mrs. B-2 would teach the other two hours.

We would have a quiz from at least one instructor each day, but more likely from both of them ... IN THE SAME DAY!  We would be expected to come to class prepared to know the material from the previous day.  We were permitted a specific number of absences each school year, and were expected to schedule any necessary appointments around class time.  Excessive absenteeism could equal being dropped from the program.

We would conduct ourselves as adults and professionals.  From this day forward, nursing school was our job and we would show the students in the other programs that we were involved in SOME SERIOUS SHIT HERE!  Okay, maybe that’s not exactly what Mrs. B-1 said, but that’s pretty much what she meant.  Geez Louise, these people were NOT messing around.

We would elect class officers.  We would get a short break midway through class every day.  We were to take care of any hunger issues and bathroom requirements during that break, but we were NOT to leave the building.  (Ruh roh – no smoke break, huh?)

Our first-year clinicals would begin during the spring quarter, each Thursday at one of the local nursing homes.  Our second-year clinicals would begin in the first quarter, each Friday at one of the local hospitals.  Clinical hours were 7 AM until 3:30 PM, just like real nurses.  We would each be assigned a patient and were responsible for that person’s care during the entire shift.  We would make our own transportation arrangements.

Just about that time, I began to ask myself why I hadn’t signed up for the computer science program.

Enter Mrs. B-2!  Right from the get-go, we learned that she loved to talk about her nursing and personal experiences.  She seemed to have a more laid-back attitude than Mrs. B-1, which was a huge relief that day, but we would soon tire of her rambling, abstract approach to teaching in the days and weeks to come.

Finally, blessedly, CLASS DISMISSED!  B and I were exhausted – so much information swirling around in our teeny-tiny brains.  Little did we know.  Seriously!  We didn’t have a clue.  As we headed to the car and made the 15-minute drive home, we had little to say.

This was to be our life for the next two years.  Were we really ready for this?  Too late now.  Neither of us wanted to be the first to admit that we had doubts.

Next up:  Our second day of class

ADVENTURES IN NURSING

THE BACK STORY

So there I was, a poor single mother of two boys, working part-time cleaning restaurants and houses for people who could afford to pay for that kind of stuff, and supplementing my income with partial welfare benefits so that I could actually spend time with my kids.

I shared a house with my ex-sister-in-law, whom I shall call B, also a poor single mother of two boys, who was in the same situation as me.  We were best friends, our kids were cousins, and we were just trying to make decent lives for our families.  Life was hard, but we had fun, too - you know, we had that "misery loves company" vibe going on.

One day, our caseworker informed us that, per regulations, we had to either get full-time jobs or get our butts back to school with financial assistance from the state.  We both chose school.  Yes, two minimum-wage paychecks was better than nothing, but we had dreams of being actually self-supporting, and not having to share a house with someone else for the rest of our lives.  We checked out the nearest vo-tech school, and got all excited to see that they offered a two-year LPN program.  We applied, tested, interviewed, and were accepted. 

Say what???  Were we that smart?  Were we going to be nurses some day?  Who would watch the kids?  How could we work and attend school at the same time?  Who the hell did we think we were?  Had we lost our ever-lovin’ minds?  Quite possibly, yes, we had lost our minds, but we 

forged on.

Most of our family and friends were very supportive and excited about this new opportunity for us.  Some were not.  The man I was involved with at the time said something like, “Well, if you think you can make it ...”  Huh!  What the hell was that supposed to mean?  We didn’t last long after that.

I was 43 years old at the time.  I did the math.  I hadn’t been in school since I took a psychology class in California in 1977.  I graduated high school in 1967, for God’s sake, and I was NOT a stellar student then.  To say I was kind of nervous would be like saying The Rock had a few muscles.  Internally, I was freakin’ the hell out, but I like to think I disguised it well.

I had wanted to go to nursing school ever since I had my first kid.  I fretted and worried that some calamity would befall my son and, in my ignorance, I wouldn’t know how to save him.  Mostly though, I had finally reached a point where I just wanted to do something meaningful in my life.  I also wanted to be able to make a living wage for a change, after 20+ years of doing office work and other low-paying jobs.  I certainly couldn’t expect any help from ex-hubby in the form of child support.  Any money he made was for him, after all.

B and I spent the month before our first day of class psyching ourselves up for this new adventure.  “We could do this!  We are smart!  We are capable!  We are woman!” with the occasional, “Oh, my God, I’m so scared!” thrown in.  Well, at least we could be each other’s moral support.  Besides that, neither of us wanted to be the first to back out!

Next up:  Our first day of nursing school