Earlier this year, once the routine of housewiffery set in and I discovered that I needed something to do besides sit at home and watch the Judge shows all day, whilst planning weekly menus, I decided that I wanted to further my education.
I don't have a college degree, and to be honest, I don't think that a 4 year university program is my cup of tea any way. I'm just not patient enough for the program; I am more of a hands on kind of girl. Testament to this would be my previous career as a Registered Sales Assistant. I had the honor of working with people and helping them plan for and save for their retirement. I held hands with widows and attended weddings and family events of clients I grew close to. I stumbled into the field purely by accident, thanks to a temp agency and the manager of a branch of Morgan Stanley who saw my potential. I loved my work, and was mostly happy with the men and women that I worked with. Sarah Whitmore, the afore mentioned manager, was an instrumental person in my life.
Some of the people I worked for were Type A assholes (you have to be a Type A to succeed in the brokerage business), but the vast majority were Type A awesome people, who also nurtured and mentored me. I made great friends with clients and bosses alike, and most of my bosses treated me with respect, and trusted me with their business. I never, ever, even with the asses I worked with, betrayed that trust. Some bridges should never be burned, and besides, it isn't in my nature to burn bridges.
When I met Mike, I was in a high position within the firm I worked for; a position earned through the dint of my hard work and integrity. Having smarts was a plus as well. So leaving the industry to become an at home mom was a hard decision. I was so used to working to support my girls, to provide a roof over our heads and food on the table. I actually came to terms with the fact that I would end up the "Crazy Cat Lady Down the Street" at some point in 2009, which is of course when I met Mike.
Talk about your whole world changing in the course of a few months!
I am not complaining, not by a long shot. To be honest, I wasn't sure that I'd like being a homemaker. I had never had the chance to do so, and I didn't know if I'd be cut out for it. Its harder than I thought it would be, and the fact that I used to sneer at homemakers, leaves me blushing for shame these days.
To put it simply, I never imagined this life...a life where the neighborhood kids come to swim in our pool, where I can make breakfast and see the kids off to school. I life where I can curl up next to the most comfortable partner I've ever had. A life with a cat and a puppy who makes us laugh. A life where I have someone besides my beloved daughters to kiss good night and kiss good morning. A home. I have a home.
Lesson One: God always has a plan for us.
Yet, I still have this yearning to do more. As if life weren't busy enough!
Part of the yearning comes from seeing how damn hard Mike works for us to have the traditional life style we have. I am still bowled over by him. My mother has been seriously ill since December and daddy has to work, so it's been me who has been at her bedside at the hospital, and at home; nursing her and tending to her. In all honesty, it's hard, running a house and taking care of her, but if not for Mike and his integrity or his priorities being right, I'd never be able to do this. My mother feels grateful for the sacrifices we make, but to me it isn't a sacrifice...it's a daughter's duty. One that I accept and do with pleasure, even when I see her suffer. I don't want a stranger taking care of her, yet there are so many situations like mine, where strangers take care of others loved ones, instead of family. In this day and age it cannot be helped. Things are the way they are, but the care taking that I've been doing, has fanned the long burning embers of something I wanted to do, but couldn't.
I want to be a nurse.
I have wanted to do this for quite a long time, but could never have done so as a good nursing program requires full time attendance, and I was a single mother with a house to support. Then, one day while perusing the want ad's for part time work, I noticed that there was a HUGE need for part time nurses, and thought that if I were a nurse I'd have no problems finding a job that didn't involve retail. I wanted to work part time, if anything to enable Mike to cut back on his OT...he's a cop and patrols and cops who patrol need to be rested. There were and are days when Mike walks out of the house with bags under his eyes that frighten me and make me want to cry, all of this so that I can be a good daughter to my mother and a mom to my girls.
He humbles me.
Well, the ad's for part time nurses, coupled with the things I've seen, done and learned in taking care of my mother, fanned that long banked flame of desire to nurse. So I've decided to go for it. I'm only 44 after all, not old, certainly still spry and in pretty good physical shape.
Once mom's doctors, and the nurses at the various hospitals she has been in, found out about my desire, they were more than willing to teach me, show me and answer questions. I've been amazed at the whole process, and along the way I've learned quite a few lessons. I've also narrowed down fields I want to specialize in.
For example: I have learned a bit about wound care in diabetic patients. I can clean and dress a wound while maintaining a sterile field. Did you know that you can use sanitary napkins for a dressing on a draining would, as they absorb so much? Neither did I, until a Doctor Nguyen taught me.
I have learned the finer details of a Portacath, how to maintain it via flushing, how to draw blood from it, how to remove and change the needle, which is an L shaped object and needs to go in just so.
I've learned the effects of certain narcotics and how tortuous Narcan is on a patient, but also how it saves lives. I've discovered that suctioning a patient is needed, even though watching one's mother suctioned is hard to see.
I've learned the finer points of intubation and also why Diprovan is called Milk of Amnesia.
I understand why Occupational Therapy and Physical Therapy is so very, very important for patients who are disabled like my mom.
I've learned about antibiotic resistant infections and calorie restricted diabetic diets.
I can prime new tubing for an IV on the first go, no air bubbles with me, no sir!
I can listen to a patient weep, or talk, in the darkest of hours. I can be there with them through the fear, the unknown; I don't offer advice, just the listening is enough.
I discovered that there are so many ways to take care of a person, small ways and large. I've seen the compassion, the genuine compassion and caring of good, no great, nurses toward my mother. Their devotion to their vocation is so inspiring!
These last 6 months have firmed my desire to go into this field.
It all started when my youngest was born, prematurely; weighing only 2 and 1/2 pounds. I saw the care the nurses gave to Adele, and that lit the spark. Mom's ordeal fanned the flames.
I know that I will make an awesome nurse. I will even be able to get past my gagging when other people vomit (it's my weakness, I can't handle puke!), if my desire is enough; and it is.
I know that I will be a good nurse because I have been at the bedside of my mother, who but for the Grace of God, was dying. I know what other families will or have been through, what they think. The helplessness, the prayers they pray.
I know how damn helpless a new mother with a premature child feels. Seeing the tubes, the isolette, the restrictions, the very labor that the baby goes through to survive.
I understand the helplessness of the patient, people who were mobile and active until illness stopped all of that; the impatience and the depression that they experience while lying in bed, unable to do for themselves. I get how they feel like they aren't in control of their lives anymore...like they are just lab rats and controlled by others.
I've lived it. Lived it several times. I understand and I want to bring that experience to my nursing. That compassion.
I am sure that I am idealizing. Nursing is gritty and dirty. My sister is an ER nurse, and the stories she tells are compelling or horrofying.
But, I want to take care of sick babies, or work in CCU.
Those are my desires, and perhaps they will change, but that is what I want to do right now. Just because I've seen both specialties and I know that I can bring, not only good nursing into it, but life experience. What I wouldn't have given for a NICU nurse to explain things to me, to just relay to me in any small way that she knew what I was going through...to empathize.
I believe that what I am experiencing now will make me a good nurse. I know that this is what I am meant to do.
Which leads me to lesson 2: God has a plan for all of us. Sometimes to road to the fuffillment of that plan is long and hard, but it's a road that has to be travelled.
