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