Semester Three, Week One

I am an emotional masterpiece. Or wreck. Or whatever you want to call it. Or, perhaps in mental health terms, I am labile. Whatever it is, I am a ball of mania.

This week was emotionally, cognitively, and physically taxing. For one, I failed my clinical math exam. Yeah, that's the one that you have to get a 100% on, or you're done. I made a stupid error on two problems, miscalculating the dose. I have one more try on Monday. I have not come so close to losing it as I did on Wednesday. I feel like I can correct my error(s) and progress, but a little part of me doubts this.

I progressed on. My instructor would refer to this as utilizing my coping skills in reference to the crisis I was facing.

I have felt all week like I am going to fail. Fail mental health. Fail math. Fail nursing school. I was imagining what life would be like, failing. How I'd tell friends, family, co-workers, the random people who know how desperately hard I am attempting to complete and pursue my dream of becoming a registered nurse.

But I got to tell you, God spoke to me twice this week. Great, you think. She's making it spiritual.

Hear me out.

For one, on Wednesday night, in the throes of full-blown panic and anxiety regarding my impending first exam, I was invited to a Bible study. I replied to the invite that I couldn't; heck, I had a test to study for and that was clearly the priority.

And then, in a whisper, God asked me:
"Who's your Master?"

Well then, the choice was clear, and I attended and left feeling slightly refreshed and having things in better perspective. It didn't totally stop my mania, but it sure helped.

And so, I studied in the days to follow. And studied. And studied.

(P.S. My new living arrangements are beyond fantastic.)

Last night and this morning, the old fears came back in force, and I felt like the end of my nursing school career was coming to a rapid end. I imagined an impossible exam, unable to process higher application questions, slugging through, and failing.

I studied this morning before the test, which is uncharacteristic of me, but the pressure was real, it was on, and I had to give this my best effort.

So, I was freaking out, stopped studying because I had to be realistic; I either knew the information or I didn't. No other way around it. There I was, in a secluded area of school, and I spent a moment with God. I was panicking. My anxiety was palpable.

And there, in the calm, and in the quiet, I heard the Holy Spirit whisper, like a passing wind, "I am with you." In in that fleeting moment, there was peace.

I took the exam, nervous, shaky. I didn't know the first answer. The second was dicey. And then, it started rolling together, smoothly, and the fear became replaced with confidence and I submitted my exam.

Class policy allows us to then re-take the exam with our peers, in pre-formed groups, open book, open note. When our group went over the exam, I saw that I had missed only 5 or 6. And, so long as you have independently passed with a 77%, taking the group exam allows for three extra points to be added on to your grade.

Class average: 79%
My grade: 93%

It is here in the calm, the quiet that I have yet to find a way to release my anxiety. I still feel tense inside. So nervous I could puke. Optimistic. Cautious. Aware that this is only the beginning.

Progression.

Semester Three--It Begins

I'm one day away from beginning third semester.

I graduate in May 2016.

It's been a busy summer; I completed two online courses to progress in pursuing my BSN, and thankfully earned A's. I also had a "medical" summer with a definitive diagnosis and treatment of the knee problems I bemoaned over all last year. Turned out to be a simple tracking issue, and after three hefty injections under my knee cap, I am more or less cured.

I also had my wisdom teeth out, which turned out to be the medical disaster of 2015, with dry socket and infection.

I briefly dated someone, but that ended nearly as soon as it began once I realized how incompatible we truly were. It still sucks, though. Break ups always do.

I worked full-time on a med-surg unit and am really incredibly grateful for such a wonderful, challenging, educational experience.

At academic advising on Thursday, my advisor told me this is reportedly the most difficult semester yet. Upon inquiry, I was told that more is expected from a third semester student, knowledge is to be already a given (ie: they're not teaching you what you should already know) and my skill set is taken up a notch with more acute care.

The first eight-ish weeks of the semester are mental health, a course in which I have absolutely no background in, There's also advanced pharmacology and then later on, in October, advanced concepts of med-surg.

Initial thoughts are a) fear of failure b) fear of the unknown. I go through this every semester, and thus far, I've successfully convinced myself all throughout that I am going to fail. There's no other way to look at it. I am the future Miss Nursing School Failure. (Have I mentioned that I'm neurotic?)

Clearly, my trust in God is lacking, because even though He's brought me this far, I doubt He'll continue on in His faithfulness. (Awesome).

I received multiple grants and scholarships, so it looks like I'll be graduating with no debt, which is fantastic.

I'll be house sitting for third semester for $200 a month (another answered prayer) and hopefully having an abundance of time to devote to my studies.

I cannot exactly anticipate what this semester holds. I'm just ready to jump in and (hopefully) pass.

Off we go.

Semester Two, Week Sixteen (Aka: The End)

I have completed my first year.

What inspiring words can I write? (None)

I've enjoyed the last nine months. It has been a tremendous amount of work, and required a lot of me, but I wouldn't trade it for anything.

I truly have given nursing school 100%, and am continually committed to graduating, and being a nurse who knows her stuff, and has compassion, integrity, strength, skill, and knowledge.

In the two days that I have officially been on summer break, I have come to realize how much better I feel without the pressure to study 24/7.

I've made some lasting friendships, have been offered a full-time position on a med-surg floor, I'm taking two summer courses, including one to officially begin my BSN.

I'm a better person now. I think more clearly, feel confident, feel smart, and the small stuff just doesn't phase me anymore. I'm half-way to becoming a nurse, and anticipate that the best is yet to come.

Monday, after my final, I joined my friend who is part of a medical group for pre-med and medical students. She graciously taught me how to suture (it's not as easy as it looks) and then these two Italian doctor's here on their residency asked if they could join us. They then proceeded to practice their anterior approach spinal surgery technique. I felt, in that moment, like this is it. I'm going to make it. I love the medical field, and the opportunities to learn that have been presented to me are innumerable and unforgettable.

I occasionally get glimpses into my future, and this is it; this is what I want. My relationship with Jesus will always come first, but He has made it know that this is where He wants me, and I am so content to be in the center of His will.

It is a beautiful thing.

Semester Two, Week Fifteen

I found myself in a new form of hell this week.

At clinicals, the nurse I was following gave me an electronic fetal monitor strip and told me I'd be responsible for charting for this patient.

Now, you may think; eh, that doesn't sound so bad. But it was. It is. EFM is laborious, tedious, and mind numbing. Plus, I'm not going to be a labor and delivery nurse so why on the planet was I assigned to this task?!

An example: (from google, not from my clinical site, in case you were wondering)

Looks like a lot of squiggly lines, right? Well, for one, I can tell you that this baby is in fetal distress due to the variable decelerations, and the momma is having pretty frequent contractions. Thankfully, I also see some accelerations, but we've got to get this baby out, and soon.

My butt was kicked this week. It was truly a horrible week to be alive, and each day brought on a new, dreaded problem. Family issues on top of school issues, on top of psychotic roommate issues makes for one exhausted nursing student.

I had to take Monday off to be a witness in court, and that was a cluster you-know-what. Emotionally drained from that, I returned on Tuesday, took an exam in the afternoon (yuck), and tried to keep my chin up while simultaneously blinking back tears all dang day. Wednesday was EFM hell, a fetal demise (horrible), and I was scolded by my nurse because I was observing too much, and not helping enough. I'm sorry; I thought that holding a laboring mother while an epidural was placed, then placing a Foley, removing a Foley, obtaining vitals and holding mom's legs back while she was in active labor was participating.

Thursday was exhausting with finishing up clinicals and just when I thought I could power through the rest of the day, I attended my weekly Bible study only to realize it was a huge mistake and literally ran out the door to avoid exploding. <--- That didn't go over well.

I have assignments to complete today and my final pediatric clinical tomorrow.

I'm exhausted.

Semester Two, Week Fourteen

OB clinicals transpired this week. I was fortunate to witness a c-section and vaginal birth. While some folks determine after this experience that they never want to have children, I truly was stunned at the endurance of the human body, the struggle it is to come in to this world, and the fact that any of us make it here alive.

I also was able to cut the umbilical cord, and it was a fantastic moment, as I tend to live in the future, wondering if my cut has anything to do with if they'll be an "innie" or an "outie" (I don't think so, but hey), and if I'll ever see this child again at the some point in the future.

Day one was fantastic; I was paired with a knowledgeable nurse who took the time to explain the science behind labor and delivery. We poured over fetal heart strips, and I left feeling like I am one kick-butt nursing student. Day two, not so much. My assigned nurse wasn't interested in me, wouldn't let me do a thing, not even take vitals on mom, and so I left that unit discouraged. I did however witness a circumcision, and once more left with the thought that it really wasn't that bad. Maybe the baby was just exceptionally brave/non-reactive to pain.

Do I have baby fever? No. I'm just here for the ride, enjoying the last few weeks of nursing school, shocked and stunned that I am coasting into my final week and two days before I have conquered year one. There's much to do in the meantime, and with some perseverance, I'll make it through this next (crazy) week with few bumps.

Semester Two, Week Thirteen

Another week complete.

Phew.

Learned about heart defects this week in the pediatric patient.

We also discussed end of life care in a child, which was plain awful, especially in light that a young man from my hometown had killed himself that very day.

A dark week indeed.

I try to find hope in the midst of sorrow, but suicide gets to me. Kids shouldn't kill themselves. It wraps itself around my thoughts, my heart. I grieve for the loss of a life, and wish the clock could be turned back; I wish his life had been saved. I have trouble concentrating, knowing that many are hurting and there is nothing that I can do to help.

I remember when it felt like my world was ending. In comparison to others very real struggles, mine now seems but a dent on the surface.

I remember telling a handful of people, those I trusted what was going on, explaining the darkness of my soul, the hopelessness, the fear, the hurt.

I've learned that in crisis there are those who partner alongside you because they want the gruesome details, they want to know the story, and they'll touch base, making sure you're okay, but as time progresses, they stop. Is it because they stop caring? Never cared to begin with?  The calls, the texts, words of encouragement fade, even when you reach out to say "hey, I'm still drowning", you're no longer headline news. You don't matter. I've done this before. I too am guilty.

So, you learn to move on, keep it internal, progress with a smile and pretend like you're doing amazingly well, even if you're caving apart on the inside, screaming for a helping hand.

Granted, there are a few that I will remain indebted to for the years to come; the ones who stuck by your side and saw your tears, frustration, emotion and stood by you. I've learned that no matter how little I perceive a crisis, to that person, it very well may be gut wrenching and world ending, and people need to be comforted, lest they lose that glimmer of hope and end it.

Academically, I am still progressing. The final weeks of the semester are difficult, and for the first time in months, I took the evening off from studying on Monday, and went out. It was so incredibly delightful, there's no way to accurately describe it.

But the next day came sadness, and this week has had a dark cloud over it.

Monday, May 4th, I have to miss a mandatory presentation to my class, and an exam, because I've been subpoenaed to be a witness in the state case against my parents. Sometimes, I look at these stressors, and I thank God that my grades aren't tanking, because how exactly does one concentrate well on what a tetralogy of fallot really is, while being consumed with attorney meetings, impending testimony, planning on what to say, worried you'll botch it and send your parents to prison for something they didn't do...? God's grace. That is all.

OB clinicals begin next week. I just need to get through 48 hours of OB clinicals. As previously stated, this is not a course of study that I fancy, but it's a means to an end, so I am studying as often and as much as I can. It's working.

A young child came in to work today to visit their mother, and while it was evident they had croup, they also mentioned the child has not urinated much in the past 24 hours. My first thoughts? 1) check the fontanel for sunkiness, and 2) how much should she be urinating? Well my friend, the answer is 2 ml/kg/hour.

Nursing school is wonderful.

Semester Two, Week Twelve

"Do I need to write you a doctor's note for fear of success so you don't have to take your finals?"

This is what a doctor friend of mine asked me today, after I lamented about the trials of nursing school, and what if I fail, and what if, what if, what if.......

It's true, I realized. I cannot see myself as a success. When it comes down to it, I can't see myself as an RN. Or having a BSN. Or working in a nursing capacity.

So, hence the fear of success.

But, I've got three weeks left to the semester, then I'll take seven (!!!) credits this summer, work full-time, and start up second year in the fall.

Did I learn anything this week? Sure, I learned about all the various rashes/viruses that cause them in children (except for scarlet fever; that's a bacterial infection.)

I learned about hydrocephalus, both communicating and non-communicating, meningitis, ICP, and medical emergencies in the child. Did you know if a child is unconscious for any period of time, get them to a doctor ASAP, because it doesn't matter if they were out for 30 seconds or 30 minutes; they present differently with brain bleeds and hydrocephalus than adults.

In obstetrics, we covered post-partum hemorrhages. Sounds pretty dicey, if you ask me. In fact, all of child-birth sounds dicey to me. It's a wonder anyone is born alive.

I'm pretty annoyed with myself today. I had a patient pass out on me today, and I never thought to check her pulse. I merely gave her a sternal rub, tried to rouse her, and nothing. It wasn't until after the RN and doctor arrived that I realized how idiotic I was. You think you're advancing, and then....

:(