Nursing Story

   For nurses week my organization asked us to write our "nurses story". Here is what I submitted.

     I was a little aimless when I graduated high school and went to college. Not wanting to just declare “general studies”, I chose to major in photography as it was my hobby at the time. The first day of class the assignment was “photograph light,” and I made a discovery. I discovered I was not meant to be a photography major. I had no idea what that was supposed to mean. None of my roommates were particularly arts oriented either, so none of them knew what “photographing light” was. Imagine the awful picture simply reflecting a light onto a ceiling would be, and you have the kind of brainstorming we were capable of. One of those roommates ended up providing me with direction, although it had nothing to do with the photography class (which I failed). She was a nurse, working on her bachelor’s degree. She was smart, funny, well liked, cared about her job, her friends, and her family. I jumped right out of arts and went to sciences (which I was always much better in anyway). I wanted to be just like Joy. 

     Anyone who studied to be a nurse knows that you have a lot of “why am I doing this” moments. Anyone who got through those and works as a nurse knows that those were a raindrop in an ocean of “why” moments. 

     The funny thing is I have a hard time remembering the things that caused my “why am I doing this?” moments. But I have some clear recollections of “this is why I do this” moments. The first one came in nursing school. The instructor told her story of having a stillborn child when traveling out of state. She had to return home, and the staff from the funeral home hadn’t arrived yet. She couldn’t bear to put the baby down and have it lay there alone. Her nurse told her to hand her the baby, and she would stay and rock it until they came. It still makes me cry when I think of it. I sat in class crying, thinking, “That. That is the nurse I want to be.” Remembering it got me through to graduation. That moment remains my measuring stick to be sure I’m becoming who I want to be. 

     My nursing story is driven by moments. Moments I could provide a laugh. Moments my patients made me laugh. The times that a patient or their family came into the ER or the ICU terrified and I was the one who could let them know they were in good hands and they’d be okay, whether that was because of a crayon up the nose or a heart attack. The one who held their hand as they slipped off alone in the ICU. The one who comforted the family when they realized their loved one wouldn’t make it home. Being their nurse for their first chemotherapy treatment. Whether providing humor or reaching down as far as I could into their well of grief and fear without falling in, that’s who I wanted to be. I hope it’s who I was. Who I still am and will be. 

     A patient I’m certain I’ll never forget once tried to climb out of bed to get his watch, which didn’t actually exist. When I asked him why he needed it he said, “So my pants don’t catch on fire.” As he couldn’t stand, and there was no watch, I replied “you aren’t wearing any pants.” After a, "Now you tell me.” he laid back down content. It was the most normally occurring bizarre conversation I’ve ever had. 

     Sometimes a career in healthcare makes as much sense as that conversation with him. All you think is “what??” and “Why??” all day, and you are pretty sure something is about to burst in flames. That something likely being your sanity or that last frayed nerve. 

     While I’ll never know what the connection is between wearing a watch and preventing pants fires, I know exactly why I’m a nurse. I give hope and empathy. I hold fear and grief. And I stop pants fires before they start. 

 Laena Hopman, RN