Semester One, Week Thirteen

Last week was so hellacious, I didn't even get a chance to write until now.

Not really.

My comps, a demonstration of the skills I have learned this semester are officially "up there" as one of the most terrifying moments of my life. For one, I suffer from stage fright something awful. And when this happens, up goes the heart rate, breathing pattern, hands begin to shake, and my memory becomes cloudy.

So while I'm trying to demonstrate to my mannequin the skills I will be performing on her today, simple words evacuate my mind, and I'm left standing there, throwing any words out that I can remember from class. "S1 and S2 sounds ausculated! Clear, crisp! Lung sounds clear, no adventitious sounds, equal chest rise and fall, eupneic, capillary refill less than three seconds, equal bilaterally, brisk."

On and on it went; my hands shaking throughout, desperately trying to recall, and demonstrate that I am a worthy first semester student.

And, it went fairly well, until the foley catheter demonstration, where I forgot about this handy thing called sterile gloves. You need those babies in order to insert a catheter without introducing bacteria. I saw them, and removed them from my catheter kit, and got busy removing the betadine swabs from the kit, until my instructor made a dreaded buzzer sound (can't you hear it in your head?) and pointed out to me my fatal error. I mean, really? Catheter without sterile technique? Sarah!

She was gracious, and did not dock off every point I deserved.

In fact, she told me I did everything else almost perfectly, and she initially thought I just may be one of those 100% students (until the catheter incident of 2014.)

I passed, with an A.

The rest of the week included a pharmacology test (96%!) and a culture presentation (my group earned an A!)

I signed up for second semester. It's happening. One semester almost down.

I think my biggest struggle this semester has been having very limited people I can talk to. I crave conversation; and not just conversation about nursing school. Just a real-life, sit-down conversation. I haven't had one of those in a long time, and it'd be much appreciated. I'm alone so much of the time, and holding a one-sided conversation is plain boring. Maybe one day.

Semester One, Week Twelve

"Do you enjoy putting makeup on women?" I asked the mall kiosk man who somehow managed to grab me, start applying makeup and telling me how old I'll look if I don't buy his special makeup, utilizing an ultra magnified mirror.

He showed me the results. I saw none. What I did see is a tired looking woman, with really dry lips. Said salesman tried his best to persuade me to purchase his product, but the best answer is "I can't afford it, even if I wanted to. I'm a full-time student."

This led into what I'm studying, which led into how he's a firefighter (and you sell makeup on the side??) and then he asked, "Why nursing?"

Why not nursing? Why not this field that has so captivated my heart, left me heartbroken when I couldn't work in it, always dreaming of the day that I could change a life.

I completed my clinical requirements for first semester on Wednesday. I worry about the residents I leave behind, the ones I came to enjoy, and get to know personally. What will happen to them? One asked me to come and visit, and with every good intention I plan to, but I also know life. How it gets in the way, and the people and places that meant everything to us in the moment simply dissipate overtime, till it's like "Oh so-and-so? Yeah, I remember them..."

As an aside, I began a short dose of steroids this week due to my ever increasing joint pain. I didn't realize it until it began working how much pain I've actually been in. For one, I felt as if I had lost 10 pounds. I've forgotten how nice it is to walk, not feeling like you're sludging through water. Being able to stand, sit, go up and down stairs, move without pain, well, that's like a modern day miracle. The steroids were a last ditch effort, but once my doctor suggested it, I took it. And now I see why steroids were once hailed as a cure for arthritis (before all the horrible side effects were discovered, that is.)

Unfortunately, steroids lower your immunity, so that fantastic cold I had last week that stole my voice is still present. I think I have a sinus infection. Just call me the mucous maker. I have a doctor's appointment tomorrow to discuss what next, pain wise, and perhaps get some antibiotics for this infection of mine. Being sick makes you value your health all the more. Kids, don't take for granted how nice it is to live pain free, because once you're stuck in that world, all you can dwell on is the pain. I have spent (unconsciously) most of my time formulating ways to not have to bend down, move, go up or down stairs, coming up with plans on how to get back up. This week has been miraculous, if only to realize what life is like when you're not planning your next [agonizing] move.

I took a math test this week and did awful. I forgot everything I had learned. I couldn't round, couldn't calculate, nothing. So, my straight-A score has been erased, but I did meet with my math professor, and all hope is not lost. I can still pull off an A in the class if I do well on my final. I was devastated about my poor grade, but I did feel like crap during the exam, so that served as a distraction. Not that this is my excuse. My poor grade was due to the fact that a) I didn't round and b) didn't show my work. For some reason, I've gotten into the habit of scribbling down my numbers without showing how I did it, or writing down the units. For the final, I'll be better, I promise.

Next week is dubbed "hell week." We have comps; demonstrating a head to toe assessment (I keep dreaming that I totally mess this up), vitals, and either a foley catheter insertion or sterile dressing change. One-on-one time with a panel of my instructors, demonstrating my skills. This counts as a test score, and is a big deal, apparently.

I will write after I've gone through hell and back.

Semester One, Week Eleven

This is the second cold I've had in a month. I think I know where I got this cold from, though. A middle schooler; when I participated in a hearing and vision screening last week.

~Sigh~

I have laryngitis now, so I have no voice. Awesome.

This was a challenging week. It would seem that all the major nursing projects of the first semester are all due, or coming due in these last four (!!!) weeks of the semester. 

We had our two difficult exams this week. By the grace of God, I passed both of them with A's. At the start of every exam, I always find myself thinking "I can't do this; you seriously thought you could be a nurse? This is a career ending test right here, if I ever saw one..."

Love the negativity of my mind. Pharmacology wasn't nearly as bad as I anticipated. The key is found in reading your textbook (surprise) and thoroughly understanding the material. After that, things like glucocorticoids and mineralocorticoids come together. I now understand the hormones of the anterior and posterior pituitary gland, but if I wanted to sound extra smart, I'd say "I now understand the hormones of the adenohypophysis and neurohypophysis." Ha! 

I met with my math professor yesterday because suddenly, gravity and pump flow rates made no sense to me. I mean, I get that with gravity pumps it's gtt/min, and pumps are mL/hr, but seriously? Why do I need to calculate drops, and hours and the like? It made me a little crazy this week, so I scheduled some time to talk it through. It began to make sense, and my professor showed me a few tricks, but ¡Ay, caramba! why is this happening to me?

And then, she told me that she could see me going into teaching one day, and that she was surprised she was saying that to a first semester student, but she could see my potential. I've always thought, if there was a second career other than nursing, it would be teaching. So who knows, maybe one day, I'll be RN Sarah, who gets to come alongside nursing students and share a bit of my wisdom with them.

That would be a dream.

Semester One, Week Ten

"How much suctioning needs to go in to suction out a tracheostomy?" I asked my classmate, perplexed, because the only answer I could find was "To the point of resistance" and I was pretty confident there was a more definite answer out there.

Classmate replied "You worry too much. Stop it."

...

This got me thinking; how often do we think we know what's going on in someone's life, externally, but in reality, its the internal that matters.

"Man is like a mere breath; his days are like a passing shadow" -Psalm 144:4

My classmate doesn't know that I'm actually worried about my parents going to jail for a crime they didn't commit, or that I'm awaiting test results for my RA/other form of arthritis, which could be debilitating to my dream career in emergency medicine. I'm not worried about the length of tubing for tracheostomy suctioning. That was merely a pondering I had, at the moment.

Week ten is done.

Two and a half more weeks of clinicals.

So much to do, as the semester winds down (but its not really winding down, yet).

We switched pharmacology instructors, and I can't tell what's going on anymore. The content is messy, confusing, discombobulated. I pray I don't bomb the exam next week. Actually, I have two exams next week. And a paper coming up, and a massive project, and a group presentation.

But you know, I'm so in love with this field, that even the hum-drum, calamity of finishing on time, getting good grades pressure feels okay with me at the moment.

We'll deviate from the norm this week while I tell you a story. I had a dear, dear friend that I met a few years ago in first semester anatomy and physiology. In time, he became one of the best friends I ever had; he even tried setting me up with a good friend of his (failed attempt, but I lived.) Anyhow, through a series of miscommunication, he and I lost contact. We went our separate ways. And it hurt. I missed him.

The last few weeks, the Lord has been communicating to me the need to reconcile with him. This past Tuesday, I got the "It's time" from God, so I went to his house. I'll spare the details, but we reconnected, and he continually commented that my timing is amazing; he too is going through a very rough patch. All glory to God; He made it known it was time.

But the sad this is; I was too late. While the miscommunication was cleared up, our friendship is over; too much time has passed. Regret is a terrible thing.

Semester One, Week Nine

This sucks, I thought, as I lay on the x-ray table, getting 20 x-rays of varying joints in my body.

I may have rheumatoid arthritis. Or I may have crazy-lady syndrome. Yet to be decided. Long story short, I have had joint pain for the last five years that is increasing in severity, and some days, I feel like I am ancient. I ache more often than I don't. My knees lock up. I can't go up and down stairs without pain. Rising from a seated position is awful. Getting out of bed is miserable. Bending down to say, tie my shoe? Forget it. The pain to rise is miserable. Most recently, my elbows, shoulders, and hands ache. A little bit detrimental to a successful life.

So, if you see the 20-something year old nursing student grimacing as she kneels down to assess you, it's not in your imagination. I live almost daily in pain. It's awesome. It's been my own private struggle for years, being dismissed by health care providers for not having the typical joint redness and swelling that accommodates many types of arthritis. However, I recently had blood work that indicated (surprise, surprise) my body is literally attacking itself.

I went to the doctor today, and explained my symptoms. He was not really paying attention, till I asked him to assess my knee and the strange thing it does when I extend it.

And as he maneuvered my right knee, his face went like this:

Apparently, knees are not supposed to be doing what mine is doing, especially without injury. So, off the orders for blood work and x-rays went.

I told my doctor if I have RA that's going to seriously impact my nursing career. He told me "Or, it'll make you a better nurse."

~

Two exams this past week, two more A's. The pharmacology test was over adrenergic agnoists/antagonists and cholinergic agonists/antagonists. That's fancy talk for sympathetic and parasympathetic drugs. A difficult concept to navigate, but once you understand the basics of fight or flight verses rest and repose, the aforementioned topics are (almost) easy breezy.

Math was semi-complicated; just make sure you've got your conversions memorized. I ran into my math professor the day after the exam, and she congratulated me on my high score, and once more told me how I had touched her heart when I told her that her method of teaching changed my life. I merely told her, she has changed, literally made my semester. Without her teaching concepts, math would still be a foreign concept. I am eternally grateful to her and the impact she has made on my life.

I love nursing school. I do. I have never once felt so fulfilled in this career calling. I cherish this time. 

Semester One, Week Eight

Last weekend, one of the nurses I work with became frustrated with a patient, who asked simply, when they could be discharged. As the patient left to go back to their room, the nurse punched the wall, and informed me that I should not become a nurse because it's people "like this" that ruin everything. Instead, the nurse told me I should become a PA and live a happier life.

No.

I am a scholarship recipient, and as is such, I needed to check in with my professors and have them sign off on my mid-term grades.

I met with my math professor on Monday, and in her office, she told me I am earning a "Solid A" and told me how after I handed in my first exam how I had touched her heart when I explained that the method she taught for conversions seriously and truly changed my life.

I in turn told her my story; my struggle with mathematics in general, and how I thought for forever that I was simply too stupid to become a nurse. I told her that I can't believe I am doing this well in school.

She told me that when you find your niche, everything falls into place. She told me I've got to stop doubting, and start believing in myself. Which got me thinking: Why am I so confident that God brought me here, but yet so doubtful He'll bring me through? I'm a walking, talking oxymoron!

She also reminded me that nursing school is not a sprint, but a marathon, and when I lose sight of the goal, imagine the day when I walk across the stage for graduation, and a family member, friend or loved one is there on the other end to pin me, thus marking that I have completed this goal.

I nearly burst into tears.

Eight weeks in, we're getting into the good stuff at school. I've learned how to don sterile gloves and re-bandage a wound while maintaining a sterile field. Next week continues sterile procedures and placement of foley catheters. My skill level is slowly progressing, and it's magnificent. I love this; all of it.

Eight weeks done, seven more weeks to go in this semester.

The exams to come will be more difficult. Our next pharmacology exam is on the different medications that affect/work with the sympathetic and parasympathetic nervous system. At this juncture, it makes almost no sense. Agonist, antagonist, antichlorogenic, alpha receptors, beta receptors....huh?

This is my mission this weekend. As well as study for my impending math exam. My biggest fear right now is that I'll drop the ball on one of these exams, forget everything and fail out of nursing school. See, there we are again. Oxymoron.

Where God guides, God provides. And He definitely guided me here.

Semester One, Week Seven

In lab skills on Tuesday, one of my classmates (and friend) suddenly felt ill. Her peripheral vision faded, a sudden headache came on, she became dizzy and nauseated. She sat down, I kept an eye on her, and the rest of the group and I finished learning how to do a physical assessment.

After lab, I sat next to said classmate. She was pale, and looked awful. I encouraged her to elevate her feet, and then shortly thereafter, she told me she was going to vomit, and vomit she did. Don't worry; I got her a gigantic garbage bin to hurl in.

Our lead instructor told her there was nothing she could do to help, for liabilities sake except activate EMS. I took her to a doctor, instead.

Long story short, it is reasons like this that I am in nursing. Acute onsets of anything fascinate me. Vomiting doesn't phase me. Getting to tend to, and take care of a person in need: That is why I am doing this. That is why I am studying hours a day, that is why I am waking up at the crack of dawn for clinicals, that is why I am doing everything I can to succeed.

We learned how to auscultate heart and breath sounds this week. This probably sounds dumb, but I have never felt cooler than to take my stethoscope, and listen to someone's heart and lungs. placing it in the "right" places. Previously, while I knew anatomically the structure and placement of the heart and lungs, listening to them is a new, wonderful experience.

We had evaluations with our clinical instructor this week. My instructor asked if there was anything she could do to help me, and I stupidly told her this semester isn't challenging me.

I'm sorry, what? It's like, all I do is open mouth and insert foot. Why in the world would I tell my clinical instructor, and not just that, she's also my pharmacology professor that the program isn't challenging me? Because I'm dumb. And when I get nervous, I say all sorts of idiotic things that are really best left in my head, and never, ever spoken.

So imagine yesterday when I sat down for my pharmacology exam, and the first question on the exam is confusing. I thought, "Not challenging, eh?"

However, before any exam, I pray. And it's not a "Dear God, help me pass this test, Amen." It's a prayer of gratitude, for an open mind, and for anxiety not to overwhelm me. See, I used to have insane test anxiety. There was nothing I would have liked better during every exam for the world to end, or if not that, for there to be a sudden emergency, thus resulting in the exam having to be rescheduled, or best case scenario, forgotten about.

Wonderfully though, when I checked my score yesterday, I received a 98%. All praise goes to God. Yes, I know that He didn't give me that A, but He has enabled my mind to become like a sponge, and I am fully comprehending the material, at this time. And it's awesome.

I'm not connecting terribly well with my classmates. In between classes yesterday, I took my seat, and there was a group of women in front of me talking. One was excitedly telling the group about what she was like when she was 11 years old. She relayed the story of the first time she said the "F" word, and then pretty much every other word out of her mouth for the remainder of the story was "F this, F that, F-F-F-F-F-F-F-F-F-F-F-F"

As I try to drown out her words, I hear other unsavory words spoken all around me. I'm sorry. I don't really curse. The worst you'll get out of me is "Pissed off." I'm not better because of that. My language choices is between me and God.

I just think sometimes, if my classmates would give me the time of day, they might like me. But I'm not in the married group, international student group, smoking group, or older woman group. Again, I have made a few connections with some of my classmates, but I just feel like something is missing.