ADVENTURES IN NURSING

FIRST YEAR ENDING

Well, we were finally wrapping up our first year.  We had taken all the skill proficiency tests that were required for our summer hospital clinicals.  Each and every one of us was looking forward so much to the freedom from classes that awaited us.  That didn’t mean we were off the hook, though – far from it.

We were scheduled for a month-long hospital rotation during the summer - first shift, five days a week for four weeks, just like real life.  Luckily, B and I requested and received different rotations so that one or the other of us would be home with the brats ... er, the children, and we wouldn’t have to deal with day care.  Yahoo!  That simplified life quite a bit.

 So, we threw a little “end of the year” party and invited all our classmates and instructors.  Several classmates actually attended and, while the rainy, 50-degree weather threatened to ruin our event, we all had a slightly drunken good time anyway.  It was great to let off some steam, and talk about what was coming next.

B’s rotation came first and as was her routine, she had a little upchuck meeting with the commode each and every day.  Poor baby!  She really didn’t appreciate the stress and responsibility.  While I sympathized with her, I also was thrilled that she was able to prepare me in some small way for my turn.  It was nice to know what was expected of me, so that I could potentially plan ahead.  Naturally, me being me, I didn’t plan ahead at all, but it was nice to know, anyway. 

I had myself a big old honking meltdown right before my month-long clinical.  My boyfriend and I talked about planning a wedding, but there was no money for such frivolity.  Bitterly disappointed, I began playing with the idea of quitting school and finding myself a good-paying full-time job.  I was so tired of always being cash-strapped, and wanted to have a real life, with dinners out, and shopping, and vacations, and decent cars, et cetera.  I wanted more!

Unfortunately, our area wasn’t known for good-paying employment with the skills I had, which were basically office administration and cleaning houses.  I picked up more hours at the restaurant I cleaned, making pizzas, salads and desserts on Friday and Saturday night, but that wasn’t getting me much closer to my fantasy life.  And none of the many places I had applied to was beating down my door to hire me. 

I went into one of my blue funks and that’s where I was on my first day of clinical.  I was determined to make something happen but in the meantime, I continued with nursing school.  The universe was listening.

My very first day, my very first patient – a very sweet, rosy-faced elderly gentleman who was recovering from a heart attack – kinda rocked my world.  When I approached him with his AM meds, he asked if he could tell me something.  He was concerned that I would think he was crazy, but he had to tell someone.  It seems he had “seen” himself die in the emergency room, complete with the bright light and angels you always hear about.  As tears rolled down his face, he grabbed my hand and chills went down my spine.

I was stunned.  I was shaken.  It was another of those “brick-upside-the-head” moments for which the Universe is famous.  This was my sign.  I assured this man that I didn’t think he was crazy at all, and thanked him profusely for helping me come to a decision I had been struggling with.  All I could think of was, “What if I had quit nursing school, and hadn’t been in that particular hospital room, on that particular day, and hadn’t heard that particular man’s story?” 

In turn, he thanked me profusely for listening and not judging.  I realized in that moment that this is why I was here.  I had received so many blessings since I made the decision to become a nurse.  So many people in my life had stepped up to help me make sure I got through the process and achieved my goals.  This was something I needed to see through to the end.

When my instructor and I left the room, I explained to her what had been going on in my life, and the fact that I was thinking of quitting school.  I even shed a few tears, as I recall.  It was such a profound moment for me, I had to share.  Amazingly, even though I had only known this lady for a couple of hours, she gave me a little hug and reminded me why I had started this journey in the first place.

Some might think it was just the luck of the draw that I was assigned to that man that day.  I knew better.  I will be forever grateful that our paths crossed.  Those few minutes we spent together changed my path completely.  What a blessing.    

ADVENTURES IN NURSING

LET’S TALK CATHETERS

“You’re not squeezing hard enough.”  Mrs. B1 faced me across the bed and quietly, urgently repeated, “You’re not squeezing hard enough.”  Aw, geez, this was not going well.

A million thoughts raced through my brain with the speed of a downhill train.  “Why me?”  “Why me in front of Mrs. B1?”  “Why a 75-year-old male dementia patient, with the attendant 75-year-old penis??”  Okay, so it was actually only three thoughts, but they were running in a circle in my head so it might as well have been a million.  What the hell ever made me think I wanted to be a nurse??  I was not having a good time.

Sweat broke across my forehead.  My glasses slid down my nose.  I couldn’t push ‘em back up – had my sterile gloves on and my hands full of penises and catheters.  I said a silent prayer that I could get this thing done before said glasses fell off my face and on to something I didn’t want to contemplate.

I was already a nervous wreck, just from opening my supplies and setting up my sterile field under the watchful eye of my instructor.  So many things to remember – open this first, lubricate that last, yadda yadda yadda.  And now I wasn’t squeezing hard enough?  Could I catch a freakin’ break here?  Apparently not.

My poor, sweet, dear elderly patient was in no position to assist.  If I had known the troubles that awaited me, I would have snuck into his room earlier and taped a Playboy centerfold to the ceiling above his bed, for Pete’s sake.  Too late for all this wisdom now!

I soldiered on, because that’s what we nurses do, right?  Besides that, I needed the grade.  If it wasn’t this guy, it would be the next one.  Gosh, this was fun.

I’ll be honest with you.  I don’t remember now how I got through that day.  I can’t even guarantee that I completed the procedure successfully.  I assume I did because I have no memory of having to repeat it in front of Mrs. B1 again.  Yay me!  I’m pretty damn sure, though, that I didn’t “look like I knew what I was doing.”

That wasn’t my last misfortune with a catheterization either.  It happens.  They don’t always go as planned but when they do, IT IS SWEET!  I’ll tell you one thing, though.  I’m retired now and I’ll never have to do it again, and for that, I am ever so grateful.

As for that poor, dear, sweet demented man who was lucky enough to be my guinea pig, I like to think that he was either (1) blissfully unaware or (2) enjoyed the most foreplay he’d had in years

        ADVENTURES IN NURSING

MORE FIRST YEAR MEMORIES

Life is funny sometimes.  As I was experiencing ... struggling through ... tolerating ... dreading ... nursing school, I was sure that I would never forget one damned thing that happened.  Boy, was I wrong.  Life gets busy, overwhelming, and your brain gets so full of stuff that you have to let some things leak out.  I guess that’s what has happened here.

Now that I’m ready to commit my memories to “paper,” my memories have disappeared.  I know there were exciting things ... dreadful things ... annoying things ... maybe even enlightening and joyous things ... that occurred at least every week, if not every day, but for the life of me, I seem to be tapped out.  Oh, well, I’ll do the best I can.

The first thing that comes to my feeble mind is the day I discovered the autopsy book.  I found it in our class library during break time, and was absolutely fascinated by it.  It was about a foot thick, and had these beautiful overlays of the different body parts and systems during real autopsy procedures.

Yeah, I know it’s weird but hey, I’m nothing if not weird.  Nursing school will do that to you, too, on the off chance you’re not weird when you start.  Trust me, you will be by the time you make it through a nursing program.  No subject will be sacred.  You’ll find yourself discussing the consistency of your patient’s bowel movements over chips and salsa.  You’ll be describing wound drainage over wine and cheese.  If you’re anything like me, you’ll even chat about the color of tenacious secretions over your eggs and toast.  Lord help you!

But I digress.  So, while my classmates spent their break time studying, or gossiping with each other, or just vegging out for 20 minutes, there I’d be paging through the autopsy book while I sipped my soda and munched my Fritos.  I often wondered just how cool it would be to actually witness an autopsy.  Nowadays, after having read too many Kay Scarpetta novels, I realize the smell would get to me long before the various fluids and juices in the human body would. 

I recommend you try to locate a good autopsy picture book, and flip through it for a few minutes.  It’s almost as good as the real thing, and you might just want to find out how strong your stomach really is.  It couldn’t hurt!