Battlefield Sergeants

photo courtesy of www.lanl.gov archives.

 Many people already know I have been accepted to a 2 year nursing program starting this fall.

Most people don't know the struggle it took for me to get to the point that I would actually be excited to hear that news.

It took me a long time to come to grip with the reality of my life as a nursing student applicant. By long time, I mean since middle school I have known I wanted to be in the health field. Anything in the medical field. Except nursing. I wanted more glory...I didn't want to live my life as a professional pill passer.

Or, so I thought.

When I finally understood that nursing school was the direction I was destined for, I still fought it. Fretted, really. It was almost like a sentence of impending doom. Was I giving up something awesome for something just convenient? I love going to school. Would I really reach my potential with a 2 year degree, when I had promised myself years ago I would at least finish a Bachelors degree, or graduate from a Master's Program?

"...[A medical unit] is a battlefield, and there are definite hierarchies of command. The patients, they're the ones doing the tour of duty. The doctors breeze in and out like conquering heroes, but they need to read your child's chart to remember where they've left off from the previous visit. It is the nurses who are the seasoned sergeants--the ones who are there when your baby is shaking with such a high fever she needs to be bathed in ice, the ones who can teach you how to flush a central venous catheter, or suggest which patient floor kitchens might still have Popsicles left to be stolen, or tell you which dry cleaners know how to remove the stains of blood...from clothing. The nurses know the name of your daughter's stuffed walrus and show her how to make tissue paper flowers to twine around her IV stand. The doctors may be mapping out the war games, but it is the nurses who make the conflict bearable." Jodi Picoult, My Sister's Keeper, p. 229-30 (emphasis added).

It was Thanksgiving 2009. I had only recently, however hesitantly, set my goal to apply and be accepted into the nursing program-a far cry from my previous year-long desire of graduating as an Athletic trainer, then entering school to become a Physical Therapist.

Sitting around the table after dinner, the conversation turned to this exact topic. What was I going to do with life?
Just then, he happened to enter the room.
The EMT of the family (of whom I do still respect).
He had only one thing to say.
"Ha! Why would anybody ever want to do something like that?"

Hurt. Shock. Somewhere in a small corner of my mind I wanted to cry. Lame excuses were the only things that came to mind. I couldn't say anything. Feelings of insecurity in my decision rose in my mind as I wavered and yet again questioned my decision-making skills.

Just as quickly as he entered the room, he left it and walked up the stairs.
"Don't worry about him," they all said, "You will be great."

It wasn't until later that I knew what I would like to have told him right then and there.

"Not everyone can be on-site to retrieve and transport a victim. Somebody's got to be there to take care of  and help heal the messes you dump off at the Hospital!" (ER, labor and delivery, psych units, etc. get dumped on all the time by EMT's!)

Take that, EMT snobs! :)