Old Nurse Heaven

I've only been a nurse, officially, since February 4, 2010. One month later, I'm completing my first week, yep that's right one week, of work. That doesn't really mean I am actually working as a nurse... yet.

This week was all about orientation: to the hospital, the career, the devices and a whole plethora of other items I am remiss to remember on a Friday evening. So far so good, but by most people's estimation I'm not in a position to make judgement so hastily... or am I?

The week has been long. Not in hours really, but long in brain food. In fact, mine is stuffed. To offset the top-heaviness, a few nursing buds and I visited a Mexican food place after work (ha after work seems like such a novel concept) and toasted giant tubs of Mexican fried ice cream after tacos and enchiladas, beans and rice... full.

At some point during orientation one of our instructors, an RN with what some might call a cush job in the education department, made a little joke. My nursing school bud next to me and I roared with laughter while the rest of the room sat professionally awaiting instruction. The joke pivoted upon the fulcrum of "cush" jobs, like the one our instructor now holds, is where RN's go when they are sent to old nurse heaven... I guess that means I'm still firmly planted on planet earth... in young nurse reality!

Before nursing school began I promised myself to remember that day when I walked to my tiny side-slot mailbox fastened to the worn out siding of my duplex apartment and found an acceptance letter for a fairly competitive program here in Fairbanks. The letter was big, too big for the mailbox so as I drove up I saw the manilla folder spilling out the top and even though I wasn't expecting to be accepted into the program (rumor had it no one got in on their first try), I recall thinking that would be it, the letter of a lifetime, the letter to change my lifeline... it was.

I didn't heed my own advice, however. When times got tough, I did not always rise to the occasion during nursing school by remembering how I felt that day holding that acceptance letter. Sadly and humbly I admit that I did not always remember my jubilation standing there on my sidewalk nearly in tears thinking the path of my life is forever changed... forever.

I will never be the person I was before holding that note, just as I will never be the person I was before holding this meagre (and embarrassingly understated in appearance) RN license. I am the same person, of course but today after work (how novel, work) when I whizzed past a small-statured Alaska native woman in the main hallway of the hospital and heard, "I'm lost."

I immediately lost my stride, turned and asked, "are you lost?"

Her vision clearly going, she looked off into the distance and said precisely, "yes."

"Where are you headed?" slipping up and interjecting a little of my old Wisconsin dialect.

She didn't seem to notice, "the cafeteria," her response.

We were told in training this week that policy is to walk persons to their destination instead of giving directions. In my previous workplace, we held strongly to what I now see as useful but funny practices, like believing words like employee and tourist to be four letter words, instead choosing guest and coworker. I understand in principle how this works to squash subversive thoughts and feelings, yet still, at times, it makes me laugh. And still some of my favorite people are those I started knowing by calling coworker and in a local poll I'd say 90% of all the people I know by name in Fairbanks were at one time my coworkers. So when I asked myself, while walking my new friend to the cafeteria, if it matters... yes, it does.

I was proud to repay the favor because, you see, when I was very new to the hospital I too was lost. I must have looked the part because not long after entering the main hallway a kind blue scrubbed human asked if I needed help. Sure did, was looking for cardiac rehab where I would spend one clinical day. This nameless, now faceless, soul walked me to the front door and wished me well as I waved goodbye. Did it matter way back then (over 2 years ago)?... Sure did.

A long time ago, while visiting the northern cities of the Baja Peninsula, my traveling companion advised me not to smile so much and in particular not to look men in the eye. Shocked and a bit dismayed I decided he was probably more knowledgeable about the culture being Mexican himself and silently agreed to accept his advice. Returning to Alaska, still nine years later, I haven't shut the drawer on that memory. Each time I smile, even send off a little hello, toward a stranger I am thankful for this little token we might call our local culture. We are friendly in Alaska... even at the hospital.

There are many, many things to know in order to save lives. Let us not forget the many things we do that do not save lives but instead... make days.

Even though I've failed myself before on this one, I am determined to remember what it feels like to be a new nurse walking the halls of a hospital still a touch foreign to me, proudly displaying a badge that reads... STEFFANIE RN.

That way when I am on my way to old nurse heaven I can not be sidetracked by discouragement. Difficult days will come and go just as they always have in my life, but today is not one of them, neither was yesterday, or the day before... in six months the story might change but this week never will.