Nursing Can Propel

Are nurses mean? Or do we just assume they are nice because they are dressed in scrubs? Same as any other person in life, do we give them more credit because of their uniform? Do we trust them more because they are in a uniform? What do you mean when you say nurse? It was something I had always dreamed of. My grandmother had a Bachelors in Psychology. I always respected that. And my mom was working on a degree in Horticulture. I can’t remember if she finished it or not.
I would often read books and think about the way that people are supposed to be cared for. And what’s the best way to approach care in general. I think if I had been around more positivity I would have made it.
It was my first attempt at the LPN program. I met a girl at work that was relief staff. It was the little questions from a girl registering to be in my class asking for help with her hair and I helped her with her braids. We worked together, although not for long because my schedule because insurmountable. She came back to work and I overheard her talking about the braids not being perfect. I didn’t care about perfection. It was to me as if she couldn’t just be glad that someone did them for her. I asked her if there was anything I could do to fix them and she said no. Looking back on it, there were things going on that made me lose inspiration. And I wasn’t passionate about doing hair. It was just something for fun and a favor. I couldn’t understand how incomprehensible it was for someone to be a grateful person. But yet what if you wanted to sit in this class and act like you were going to be the perfect little nurse. I had just moved to the area. But I figured I would help. I knew I wasn’t a professional, but with practice I could be. And that didn’t bother me.

I was never into painting a picture unless it was in the literal term. With oil or acrylic as the medium. That old scenario where you paint the picture as if everything is fine but nothing really is. And before I knew it over a decade in the field had passed and I wasn’t at the RN stage where I wanted to be.

Professionally I was the type that if I dated someone outside of work and encountered them at work I would tell them to act appropriately. Don’t interact in a way that causes an issue with my job. Never really understanding how someone viewed these jobs as a place for them to find a partner, I focused on work. Didn’t abuse the nature of the work.

And people tainted that. They ruined it with their perspectives and their doubt. Damaging remarks, ungratefulness. Attitudes, backstabbing, politics and more. I had to take a break. Because if I was to come back it would need to be where I was stronger than ever. I needed to make sure that I had no recourse that was going to break me down like this. My heart was in it. I wasn’t in it to sell everyone out and then leave. Others were. So I would let them be. Making sure I stayed focused. But there was always that shred of doubt they would cause.

Feeling confident that the love I had for the patients would shine through. And god would show me what to do. I always loved painting nails. And receiving artwork from the patients. But my heart was broken sometimes because of the treatment. I think I became more broken than anything because of the toxic culture of how much better an RN or LPN is in title and personality seems to the general public. Without them understanding what we go through as far as abuse when we are CNA’s going back to school. It often doesn’t matter to anyone but us and the residents. They are proud of us. And that constant attitude watered it down.
”You’re not a real nurse.” Is what someone will say to you often times.

Paying attention to those people you offer to buy lunch for and they order a $50 meal. You offer a ride home and they have you driving allover to do errands when you just got off a 16. Or it’s just you and another nurse and they want to talk your ear off for the entire shift for no reason. Was I on radar? Yes.

It has always been about who the owner is. Who the administrator is. Who the DON is. How solid is their heart? And work ethic? How they care for the facility. How good of a person are they? And I began to realize I can’t choose as much as I think I can.

In the very beginning of my journey working in the nursing homes I would sit and ponder ‘Why can’t I say no to shifts when asked to work.’ And it was really because I felt bad for leaving the patients with short staff. That made me feel guilty. Which wasn’t ever someone else’s fault. It’s just part of the nature of the field.

In order to work dutifully I would have to go right home after a 16 hour shift and go right to sleep. And a house quiet. Then go to work a little early. 4-5 hours of sleep is usually what I would get when I worked hours like that. Depending on the shift. It wasn’t until I fell down in life and had a major breakdown and lack of belief in myself that I almost gave up on the nursing home and other things that gave me joy like painting portraits. I worked one day in two weeks. Didn’t care how my bills were paid. Was just thinking about the present. And how to escape and get help. But I didn’t trust anyone. My trust barrier was broken. And a part of me had overshadowed realizing that if I had built more relationships at work I might have had more help. But I didn’t want to go around to 29 people explaining my troubles and getting nowhere. I wanted relief. Right then and there. But it didn’t come without me getting help that was actually helpful. Without the stains of tears in my pillow from crying.

I was homeless at this time. First time in my life. I would realize that coworkers would come in the break room and go through my bag. I wasn’t used to that. Driving for 23 years, I had always had a car. Books and note books there. Even a first aid kit. Most times traveling you would have to sleep in your car as well. So they went through my notebooks. My poetry. And they felt like they could smile in my face. I would ignore the pain. Push through the violation or privacy. Causing an interrogation could cost more than my job and my peace. But I would just be there for the patients. Not them. I wouldn’t be concerned about much more than doing the right thing. Say you borrow a charger from a patient, do you buy another one and replace the one you borrowed? Or do you keep the one you took from them? Do you order things from Walmart that the patients need? Or just say ‘I’m sorry we don’t have what you wanted.’ Are you someone that puts their needs before your own? Do you make an honest effort to be someone’s friend? If they are so broken because of the loss of a loved one, do you make an effort to give them hope? Or do you just sit and act like you are listening to them but really aren’t? Do you go in their room to just sit and be on your phone and hide away?

I am not perfect. I have just learned to work a relative and fully wholesome way that makes the residents feel comfortable around me and being in my care.

I remember a woman in stage 4 kidney failure. She wanted donuts. And so I ordered from Walmart. Another man needed a charger. So I ordered that from Walmart too. Someone else needing pajamas. And I got them just as well. No complaints. Happy to help.

What the field means to me versus someone else is different. And I hear a little voice inside me telling me stick with that being one of many dreams. There’s no reason to let that go. Why these requirements and restrictions? Because I want to feel like I’m doing God’s work. Not just say I’m doing God’s work. The love inside you can propel you.

Oftentimes we project our disparity while looking for jobs onto other people and get very upset. understandable. I have interviewed people like that and been in circumstances where I projected that energy to someone as well.

XOXO,

El’Aundra