Part of Being a Nurse is...

I've been working in my new job since the end of March. It has been the biggest blessing in my life. In case you didn't already know, I LOVE being a nurse. I love how rewarding the job is, I love being around people who are just as interested in the human body as me, I love how caring my coworkers are, I love that my job keeps me active, and I could go on and on.

Don't get me wrong, for as much as I love my job, it's hard. It's hard work. I worry most days as I walk in that I might make a mistake. I don't want to mess up. I pray fervently that my nursing judgement will be sound before I start every shift. My back aches a lot. I see some pretty gruesome stuff. I can't fix everyone I help. My patience occasionally runs thin with the needy patients.

I got to experience doing CPR on a real person for the first time in my life. It was just a few weeks ago. It was also my patient. Thankfully we got her back. While I never really knew what CPR on a real person would be like for me, I found that all of my training and practice on mannequins paid off. I kept my cool. I found that the compression's were easy. I kept a pace. What came next was harder to deal with. I had to pass the patient off to an ICU nurse without really knowing why she stopped breathing. I had to explain what was going on with my patient to the doctor. I had to keep track of the labs we had to order STAT. I felt like I was scrambling. I just wanted to keep doing CPR, where my brain could zone out and I didn't have to answer to anyone, or worry why it happened, I could just work on fixing it. After it was all over and I was still second guessing myself, unsure of what happened, unsure what the doctor thought of me. Calling the family to inform them is always a very daunting task. The only thing that kept me going the rest of that night was that no one (namely: my supervisor) was mad at me. It was part of the job. Rather than berate me for not watching after my patient better, they just told me I did well and moved on with the night. A nurse I had never met before told me I had done wonderfully, and that she could tell I was going to be a very good nurse as I continue in the field. She told me how amazed she was that I kept my cool, especially being such a new nurse. I nearly cried. Really, all I could do was smile at her.

I prayed before my next shift that there wouldn't be any more codes. I can't handle another patient of mine coding. (For the non-medical readers, a code is short for a "code blue" which means a heart has stopped, a patient has stopped breathing, or both). So far my prayers have been answered. I know one day there will be another code. I may not be so lucky as to get my patient back next time. Until then, I'm grateful to my coworkers. They all take care of me. Nurses are family. I learned that. The night I did CPR was the night that cemented the fact in my mind. Every single one of them was there to help me. Not one of them talked down to me. As nurses, we eat together, support each other, help each other, celebrate holidays together, play together, and laugh together. I've also seen them talk behind one another's backs, get mad at each other, disagree, and banter. Seems like a normal family to me.

So here's to my family. Not by blood, but by bond. Though we share bonds through other peoples blood sometimes... (I made a joke). To the people in my life that I look up to and seek advice from. The people I'm unafraid to ask my questions. The people who share their food with me with no thought of exchange. My nursing family.

Mary, RN

(The amount of pride that I have when I sign "RN" next to my name should be banned. Dang, I worked hard for those two letters, though.)