The Little Things.

“Yesterday I overheard a nursing student snark, “yeah, this is why I’m in nursing school – so I can pass trays.” And if I hadn’t been up to my eyeballs in other things to do for my patients, I would have stopped and said: You’ve already missed the point entirely.

I’m not sure why you DO think you’re here. If you hope to be a good nurse (or coworker, or person with a heart), you’re going to spend the majority of your working life doing things you SO mistakenly think are beneath you. You are going to pass trays with a smile – excitement even, when your patient finally gets to try clear liquids. You will even open the milk and butter the toast and cut the meat. You will feed full-grown adults from those trays, bite by tedious, hard-to-swallow bite. You will, at times, get your own vital signs or glucoscans, empty Foley bags and bedside commodes without thinking twice. You will reposition the same person, move the same three pillows, 27 times in one shift because they can’t get comfortable. You will not only help bathe patients, but wash and dry between the toes they can’t reach. Lotion and apply deodorant. Scratch backs. Nystatin powder skin folds. Comb hair. Carefully brush teeth and dentures. Shave an old man’s wrinkled face. Because these things make them feel more human again.

You will NOT delegate every “code brown,” and you will handle them with a mix of grace and humor so as not to humiliate someone who already feels quite small. You will change ostomy appliances and redress infected and necrotic wounds and smell smells that stay with you, and you will work hard not to show how disgusted you may feel because you will remember that this person can’t walk away from what you have only to face for a few moments.

You will fetch ice and tissues and an extra blanket and hunt down an applesauce when you know you don’t have time to. You will listen sincerely to your patient vent when you know you don’t have time to. You will hug a family member, hear them out, encourage them, bring them coffee the way they like it, answer what you may feel are “stupid” questions – twice even – when you don’t have time to.

You won’t always eat when you’re hungry or pee when you need to because there’s usually something more important to do. You’ll be aggravated by Q2 narcotic pushes, but keenly aware that the person who requires them is far more put upon.

You will navigate unbelievably messy family dramas, and you will be griped at for things you have no control over, and be talked down to, and you will remain calm and respectful (even though you’ll surely say what you really felt to your coworkers later), because you will try your best to stay mindful of the fact that while this is your everyday, it’s this patient or family’s high-stress situation, a potential tragedy in the making.

Many days you won’t feel like doing any of these things, but you’ll shelve your own feelings and do them the best you can anyway. HIPAA will prevent you from telling friends, family, and Facebook what your work is really like. They’ll guess based off what ridiculousness Gray’s Anatomy and the like make of it, and you’ll just have to haha at the poop and puke jokes. But your coworkers will get it, the way this work of nursing fills and breaks, fills and breaks your heart. Fellow nurses, doctors, NPs and PAs, CNAs and PCAs, unit clerks, phlebotomists, respiratory therapists, physical and occupational therapists, speech therapists, transport, radiology, telemetry, pharmacy techs, lab, even dietary and housekeeping — it’s a team sport. And you’re not set above the rest as captain. You will see you need each other, not just to complete the obvious tasks but to laugh and cry and laugh again about these things only someone else who’s really been there can understand.

You will see clearly that critical thinking about and careful delivery of medications are only part of the very necessary care you must provide. Blood gushing adrenaline-pumping code blue ribs breaking beneath your CPR hands moments are also part, but they’re not what it’s all about. The “little” stuff is rarely small. It’s heavy and you can’t carry it by yourself. So yes, little nursling, you are here to pass



Reposted from: Whitney Koenig

12 Hours.

A lot can happen in 12 hours. It’s crazy to think this is what my life is going to look like, i’ve never learned so much in anything prior to my first 12 hour clinical experience. The mental, physical and emotional high you ride through your shift. As a second year we don’t typically get 12 hours shifts, but because of the disruption to our clinicals we had last term, I was lucky to get three 12 hour shifts and the rest being the regular 8 hours.

It was daunting entering my first shift yesterday. Having spent the week prior in the UK for my Master’s graduation I missed the transition day of having a partner to manage one patients and get acquainted with the unit. I was nervous to be alone with a patient and not be in a familiar environment, but I SURVIVED. I am incredibly grateful to have had a pleasant patient who was understanding and the help of the fellow upper year student nurse who pulled me aside to teach me new things and help keep me on task. I am even more grateful to have had a tutor who believed in my capabilities of managing my own patient and who was there any time I needed them to double check my medications or answer my questions.

Post shift, I must say it is daunting. HOW DO NURSES DO IT? I only had one patient to take care of for the day (my first solo patient ever and first shift in my new hospital) but even just doing a head-to-toe assessment, vitals, charting, and preparing his medications took me until 9am.  Let alone the full-time nurses who have 3-4 patients each and have to have all those tasks done by 9 am so the healthcare team can do rounds. It doesn’t help when most of the patients are in isolation because of the flu/MRSA/VRE and you have to gown up each time you leave and enter their room (better remember everything the first time!). Black. Magic.

It’s crazy how much nurses have to keep on top of things, whether it’s 0800, 1200, 0500 medications, charting (can’t bring papers into isolation room), addressing emergencies that pop up or concerns, dressing wounds, health teaching, meeting with family to talk,  accompanying patients to appointments on different floors, bathing them and other personal hygiene measures, having everything ready for report, keeping on top of new orders/lab results, taking swabs, in some cases feeding patients by hand, getting them up and around, arranging a patient’s day and keeping on top of what goes on (how much they drink and output). It doesn’t seem like much, but when you actually see what goes on behind the scenes it’s baffling. By the end of my shift I was scrambling to chart everything, change dressings, and helping others with tasks like trying to get an IV into a patient who was delirious or finding a manual bed alarm for a patient who almost fell out of bed. I can see why nurses have such a high burnout rate or why moral distress is such a prevalent issue in the field.

I think one of the most important things that i’ve taken out of my Master’s degree is recognizing issues that don’t align with my values and how to slowly start to address them. More importantly i’ve come to realize the need for patient advocacy and my role as a nurse to help patients have their voices heard. I came across a patient yesterday who had a nephrostomy bag in which when I walked into their room during the start of my shift was in a bath basin floating in urine. I had never come across one of these bags, but I knew it wasn’t normal. What made me even more sad was after my assessments I was planning my day of how to get the patient up and out of bed and they mentioned wanting to go for a walk. Seeing the situation as a whole, it made me sick to my stomach to think this individual would have to lug this container of urine because the bag had been leaking, out in public, and not only feel uncomfortable with people watching them but also the fact that it was simply a hazard both physically (ie. slips) and health wise (ie. a super highway for infection). When I brought up my concerns to the overseeing student nurse she stated that in rounds they simply played it down to a behavior issue and blamed the individual for tinkering with it rather than making any effort to find a new bag somewhere else in the hospital. I’m incredibly grateful for my nursing tutor who came in to check on me and believe me when I mentioned that this was not normal and that he needed a new bag ASAP. Even to get a new bag was a mission and a half with one hospital unit complaining it would come out of their budget. Since when has it become acceptable to withhold healthcare from individuals? UTIs are prevalent in the hospital setting and seeing the state of this bag (which had been tapes with wound dressing rather than waterproof tape) was unacceptable. I can’t imagine how the situation would have looked had my tutor not been around to help me advocate for the patient in addressing the situation and scavenging the hospital for a new bag. Thinking of it was someone I loved being the in the patient’s position I would feel disgusted and angry to not have a voice in the care I receive because of my age or health condition (ie. depression, dementia).

Honestly in 12 hours, a lot can change. From patients developing delirium and becoming confused to patients dying. I experienced my first death yesterday and let me tell you it’s nothing as how the television perceives it to be. It’s cold, lonely, and in a way mechanical as in the steps are set out in hospital policy. It’s a strange feeling to look at a patient and see them lifeless especially when you had seen them in a better state the week prior, I mean as a healthcare professional we want all our patients to go home happy and healthy but the reality is some don’t and for many who do go home not at a optimal quality of life. I can’t really explain what the death process is like, but I learned a lot about how I can help make it the best it can be. Simple measures like washing the body, closing the eyes, putting on a pair of briefs and providing privacy are things I can do to help. Visiting the morgue was surreal in it’s blandness, it’s kind of unsettling to think about in that at the end of life you end up alone in a cold fridge waiting to be taken to a funeral home or be released for other measures.

It’s eye opening to how many people are death-phobic, I had a great discussion with a professor today about this phenomenon in nursing and how nursing schools do a poor job at preparing nurses to deal with death. Even within my own group a couple students found the patient’s death hard to deal with. I think nursing schools need to do a better job to improve our own awareness and understanding of the dying and death processes. How we can sort out or feelings from our professional duties and have them work together. I think death in itself is powerful, it’s inevitable, and the only I can do in the process is to respect the being that once filled that body and help transition it to the next phase. I can’t control or stop death (when medical interventions fail or are futile) but I can help by being respectful and giving the individual a respectful send off to the next realm.

I’ll be honest leasing the hospital that night, I now know what it smells likes and I also now appreciate sleep more. Being ‘on’ for 12 hours straight is a lot, but the learning experience I had yesterday was incredible. I didn’t think I would enjoy general medicine, but the variety of patients (age, health conditions, tasks) has been eye opening and a much more enlightening experiencing than my first placement at another local hospital. Honestly, i’m looking forward to my weekly clinical now and how much I will grow as a nurse through the term.

While entering the hospital before the sun rises and leaving long after it sets has it’s downsides, the work nurses do fills my soul, while the smell of hospital fills my hippocampus and nares. There’s nothing that I would change though or that a good night’s sleep, shower, and strong laundry wash cycle can’t fix.


Megan S

Nurse in Progress.

For someone that came out of one of the toughest years of her life, I must say I am pretty proud of myself for pushing through. The struggle of feeling left down, unconfident in my abilities, and personal struggle led me to believe I wasn’t worthy of good things. That because of all my struggle I would be a failure and wouldn’t even make it through the first semester of nursing school. But I did it and I did damn fine. The nights I spent crying and very much struggling to stay focused and motivated paid off. I mean anatomy and physiology is a completely different story (ask anyone I swear!), I must say I have a renewed energy this year and I want the best for myself and my future.

Talking with one of my roommates this morning, I realize I need to set some resolutions for 2017. I’m tired of putting myself last. This year I vow to put myself first and I vow to become the best person I can possibly be. I want to do something for myself, so academically I want to maintain a 3.7 GPA or higher. Personally, I want to make decisions for myself and not be worried about what other people think using my own morals, values, feelings, and experiences. For fun, I want to learn French. It’s been three days of self-teaching myself, but I must say I am having a blast picking it up and hopefully my goal in the long-run is to become working proficient in allowing me to expand my horizons in either travel or even one day branching out into governance and policy making. Health wise, I want to eat more at home and luckily with the help of my other roommate pick up a healthy habit, which we’ve decided will be weekly yoga sessions.

Nursing school is hard. There is so much expectation and work placed on you, for someone that did degrees in health science and a master’s in ethics, nursing is a whole new level. It’s everything combined, ethics, science, arts, and skills building. But i’m taking it one day at a time, it’s all you can do really. I’m excited to be one step closer to writing the NCLEX-RN examination in 3.5 years and excited to become Megan Simpson, RN, BHSc, BScN, MA. As many tears I may cry, as much bile, excrement, sweat, or any other bodily fluid I may find myself covered in, and as much doubt that I may inevitably find myself having at points in time, I know one thing is certain- I am going to make a positive impact on the world around me. Because no matter how hard my day is, i’m never going to forget the reason why I want to become a nurse.

When times get tough, the tough get going. While I still have my struggles and anxieties, I will conquer nursing school and I will kick ass. Time and time again I put myself in a position to believe I wasn’t capable or that I was on the wrong path, and you know what? I am on the right path.

So here’s to being 1/8th a registered nurse.


Hospitals as a Safe Space for Opioid Injections?

Interesting opinion piece I came across in the NY Times regarding the promotion of safe injection sites in hospitals.

In all honesty, I have the agree with the rationale behind this thought. As healthcare providers we can’t tell our patients to do something and expect them to follow through, particularly when battling addiction. What we can do as professionals is build trust, the foundation of any healthcare provider-patient relationship. It’s the one aspect we can control, by telling or restricting a patient from doing something because of fear, patients will rebel. It’s similar to telling a teenager they can’t drink, chances are when they do have the opportunity to sneak out (which they will) and have the chance to drink they don’t maintain control.

By promoting a safe environment for patients, we can delve deeper into understanding their addiction and working with them to promote health, rather than being seen as the unreasonable dictator. With opioid use on the rise, it’s important our healthcare system is doing what we can in promoting the best interests of our patients. While illegal drug use is obviously not condoned, promoting patient centred health care is, and we need to do a better job at understanding the complexities of treating drug addictions. In health promotion you are taught that you can’t encourage or expect change if someone doesn’t want it or is restricted. So why not start with treating the addiction in a safe space and building patient trust?



HANOVER, N.H. — “How am I feeling, Doc?” my new patient answered. “I’m feeling like a caged dog.”

Hospitalized for a heart-valve infection resulting from injection drug use, my patient had purple hair and arms covered with hand-drawn tattoos. She smelled unwashed.

“I can’t go out to smoke. My boyfriend can’t visit,” she said. She gestured to the security guard in the doorway. “I can’t even pee without her watching me!” The guard rolled her eyes.

So, rather than building a therapeutic bond through small talk or discussion of her symptoms, we spoke of her confinement. The ban on visitors and the other unusually restrictive terms of her hospitalization were not a consequence of her drug addiction. They resulted from her behavior in the hospital.

Once a nurse found the patient in the bathroom shooting heroin into her I.V. line, the sink spotted with blood. A housekeeper changing bedclothes was almost spiked by a used needle hidden under the mattress. A constant influx of boisterous visitors came to her room day and night, some delivering heroin.

With quality of care, professional propriety and staff safety at risk, polite conversations escalated to rancorous confrontations. Finally, the patient got an ultimatum: She would receive care with a 24-hour guard in her room, with no exit and no visitors; or she could leave.

It is a new world in health care as America grapples with an epidemic of opioid drug abuse. The Centers for Disease Control and Prevention reported that opioid overdoses killed over 28,000 people nationwide in 2014, more than ever before.

From heart-valve infections to drug overdoses, the casualties of this epidemic wash up in our hospitals. It has changed my hospital service significantly. Almost every day, we try to save a young person dying from infectious complications of injection drug use.

Addicted patients usually bond with their providers over the shared goal of healing. Yet these interactions, which often bridge divides of class, culture and personal psychology, can break down. When addicted patients inject drugs in the hospital, doctors and nurses can find themselves cast in the role of disciplinarians, even jailers.

Confining patients to their rooms, restricting their activities and posting guards is expensive. It may also compromise a patient’s well-being: Ambivalent providers may visit less often, educate patients less avidly and spend less time devising the best treatments.

The worst effect of confining addicted patients in the hospital may be the damage to the patient-provider bond. I couldn’t blame my patient for feeling caged, even if she had brought those consequences on herself. Her nurses told me they felt conflicted, too. They wanted the simple bond of caregiving back — and they wanted the patient to stop getting high and jeopardizing staff safety.

The problems presented by injection drug use are legion, but creative solutions exist. One is the provision of safe drug-use rooms. Cities as far-flung as Vancouver, British Columbia, and Paris and Berlin have opened safe, well-lit rooms where addicts can get clean needles and other equipment without fear of incarceration. In New York State, Ithaca and Manhattan are considering similar initiatives. Such facilities can also connect addicts to needed services like preventive testing, acute care and treatment for addiction.

Safe drug-use rooms are typically designed to help keep addicts out of the hospital, but they could work for addicts within hospitals. A safe place to inject for addicted patients in the hospital could reduce conflict with staff, protect patients and providers from dirty needles and other drug hazards, and enable patients to receive respectful, high-quality care when back in their hospital beds. Safe drug-use rooms could also offer treatment for addiction, a step often neglected in hospitals.

The creation of these rooms for hospitalized addicts won’t be easy. There will be legal liability concerns, and hospitals must safeguard against the risk of overdose or unseemly behavior. It will be worthwhile to tackle these issues if it enables the provision of compassionate care for at-risk patients whose treatment would otherwise be endangered by conflict with providers.

As for my patient, I looked her in the eye and told her I was sorry she felt caged, and that I cared. In time, she relaxed, and trust grew. We discussed her symptoms, her life, and how we hoped to get her better.

We hadn’t cured her yet, not even close. Many challenges remained. I was glad we now had a chance to face them together.

Learning to Love What You Do.

It’s only the beginning of working towards my career as a nurse. Oftentimes, I question whether i’m good enough to take on such a large responsibility. Whether I have the capacity to love and care endlessly for all the patients that will come into and out of my life. But then I think about the adrenaline rush I get from reading about treating illness, the mysteries behind disease, meeting new people with interesting stories, and the feel of wearing a uniform that’s well respected.

The first term of nursing school has been hard for many reasons. Going through a break up, working through change and loss, balancing all my commitments, battling depression again, and trying to figure out school again has been difficult. It’s been hard to stay focused and motivated. Fighting my depression again has been difficult. There’s just so much going on and I can’t sleep, eat, or even think straight. I spend my days a waking zombie just trying to make it to the end of the day when I can fall back into my bed and think maybe tomorrow will be better. It’s like groundhog day. There have been many nights where I question ‘why am I even here?’, I didn’t ask to be here, I didn’t ask to take on all these responsibilities and have to grow up, and I didn’t ask to battle depression for 10 years. I’m tired of it all. I’m so tired of thinking and trying to pretending to be happy. I know I have so much to be grateful for in my life, but sometimes (I know it’s selfish), it doesn’t feel like enough to make me want to continue on this path. There have been nights where I read stories of innocent and helpless people dying and I question, why not me? That I don’t want to continue to grow up anymore and it’d be so much easier just to not have to anymore. I would be free at last. But then there is a part of me that is scared of the after life, of where does our soul go when we die. Would I be punished and stuck permanently being unhappy and in limbo leaving on my own time rather than in divine time?

I try to remain positive and push through but it’s been incredibly overwhelming at times. Somedays are terrible, somedays are okay, and once in a while I have a day where I am so grateful for being here. Lately, I have questioned whether i’m to weak to push through all of this, the immense pressure I feel to get maintain a 3.7 GPA, balance work and volunteering, trying to keep up with classes and falling behind, balancing a social life, all while trying to learn to adult at the same time. To try to build the “perfect” life it seems everyone around me strives to achieve. I question if I can’t even handle these simple stressors, how can I handle a job that will oftentimes be stressful, frustrating, exhausting, and overwhelming. What if I get to the end of all of this and it turns out it isn’t even something I want anymore? What if I realize i’m not good enough to take on this job or that it’s not what I thought it would be like? I get scared thinking maybe the job I think I want is all an idea in my head. I try to think back to what made me want to get here. I was the kid growing up taking all the pamphlets from the pharmacy trying to understand “how to treat asthma”, “diabetes prevention”, and “what to do when you have severe migraines”. The kid that would go to the library every weekend and take out all the books on health because it made me excited to learn about the human body. The teen that left her program in her first term because I so badly wanted to be in a health program in hopes it would get me into nursing or even medical school when I was done. But that person that every time I passed a hospital my heart would light up because I knew it’s where I wanted to be one day. I try to focus on this and remember I am where I am because I chose to be here.

I know I should be proud of how far i’ve come and how hard i’ve worked to get here. I know there are so many others who would kill to be in my place in getting into a strong nursing school. That even getting into nursing school is a feat in itself. I recently found out over 1000 people applied to be where I am right now, and only 140 of us were selected because it was felt we possessed the skills, intelligence, and maturity to take on this challenge. I know I should be thankful, and I know over the past year the universe has given me many signs of what is to expect when I ask for signs, but I sometimes find it hard to trust my own intuition even though it’s never led me astray. I chose this path for a reason, because I want to be passionate about what I do and to pursue a dream i’ve longed to achieve since high school but never had the courage to do so. Largely because I thought I wasn’t good enough or smart enough to compete with the best and so I thought giving up my goal would help me find my happiness, instead it just made me more unhappy to know I was moving towards something I wasn’t passionate about, the typical 9-5  desk job.

Slowly, i’m finding my footing again. It’s been fun actually learning hands on knowledge. It makes me excited for next term when we actually get to begin learning and practicing nursing skills. What keeps me going is trying to make it to second year, to find the strength to finally get out into placement. I want to make a difference in the life of another person.  I’ve been reminding myself that I knew that nursing school would be full of blood (hopefully my own), sweat, tears and failure, but that when I finish this tough program I would be so proud of my self for succeeding and pushing through. That after many years of hard work, I was always known to persevere in whatever I do just to know I stuck it to the man and proved people wrong.




Why do I want to be a nurse.

I’ve postponed writing this post for weeks, so much has happened and it’s taken me awhile to really sit down and focus. It’s taken me a while to compose my thoughts and orchestrate them into a post. I’ve honestly felt really lost the past few weeks with everything that’s been going on and it’s taken me a bit of time to feel grounded and motivated again.

I wanted to write this in my first year of nursing to see how my views and attitude will change over the next three years and even after I enter the profession.

I chose this path for a reason, I wanted to be part of profession that is well respected and hands-on.  Something that I had a ton of space to grow, whether one day I move into bioethics, policy, or even business management. A job where I would constantly be on my feet and challenged physically, emotionally, mentally, and ethically. I wanted to be part of a profession that sought to make a difference in the lives of people, whether on a small scale (ex. hospital care) or on a large scale (ex. public health or health policy). A job where I would be on my feet, constantly challenged to learn new things and adapt to a constantly changing landscape.

I recognize that nurses are often underrated compared to the prestige of a physician, dentist, or even eye doctor. People always questioned me as to why I chose nursing rather than having to try for medical school. To be honest, I wanted to play a large role in the live’s of my patients. When you listen to the narratives of either the patient or their loved ones, you often hear stories of how the nurse made a difference in caring for their child, parent, grandparent, or friend. How it was the nurse who knew that the patient hates the sight of needles or needs to have their teddy bear whenever a treatment is administered. It’s the nurse that has the time to get to know their patients, to hold their hand when they are alone at night or have no visitors, its the nurse that is at your bedside when you are uncomfortable, and its the nurse who is there to try to boost your spirits when you’re feeling down.

The stories I have heard of coworkers, family, and friends talking about how the nurse made such a difference for them that they developed long-standing relationships with them. Stories of inviting nurses to the wedding of their children whom they cared for during their illness or surgeries. How they still make every effort to keep in touch with the nurse they felt cared so much about them and their loved one that it still positively impacts their lives years later. Seeing how grateful they are for the care and compassion their nurses showed during the long stays in the hospital, often during crucial times, really opened not only my eyes but also my heart. You don’t realize how important having a compassionate and knowledgeable healthcare practitioner is until you need them the most.

We’re there for all the tiny questions people may have. We’re there during the outbreaks of the flu and other infectious disease. We put your lives in front of our own at times because that’s just the type of people we are. We are here for you and will be there for you when you need us even if sometimes it goes beyond what is expected of us.

I realize not every shift is going to be a good shift. There are going to be days when I am so exhausted with my own troubles that I have to put on my best self to care for my patients. That I have to put the needs of my patients above my own even after 3 days of doing 12 hour shifts. But wait, many nights it won’t be the set hours I’m given, I will be there beyond my call because that is what is expected of me and what my patients require from me. There are going to be days when I will breakdown from stress, when I will cry my heart out because I lost a patient who should have lived, someone who was a child or a parent or even a sibling. Days when I feel overwhelmed with everything I have to do, whether it be patients requesting my help, or having to skip my lunch or break to continue charting, or even being there to support a patient who is too scared to go through treatment alone and wanted someone there for them.

There will be times when I have to be the strong one for the patients loved ones as they grieve for their loss or recognize the situation is going downhill. Times when I will have to show the patients loved ones, that I am human too and I grieve with them during these darks times. I am going to have days when I sing to the Lord that a patient miraculously lived, that the patient can walk again, or even for the first time in a long time the patient opened their eyes. How heartwarming it will be to see the patient and their family walk out of the hospital feeling hopeful and on the way to recovery. Or even more exciting seeing a patient walk back into the hospital when at the time it looked like there was no hope for them or even seeing a patient years after they have left my watch. How emotional I will be the first time a patient thanks me for not only being their nurse and helping them get better, but that because of the actions of my team and I, they have renewed faith in our healthcare system.  Times when I will feel angry that my voice was not heard, or that I couldn’t give it my all, or even angry at the patient for choosing a path that went against my own views. How ethically I will be challenged on a continual basis (ex. should a 14 year old get an abortion without their parents knowing? Does this 50 year old chronically and severely depressed patient really want to be euthanized?). There will be days when I feel incompetent at not being able to figure something out and wonder why its not working. How I will spend hours trying to figure out the best practice to help my patients feel better, even though I’m not being paid extra to do so.

Most of all I want every shift that I do to be one where I go out of my way to make my patients feel safe, happy, and comfortable. I want to go home knowing that I did my best, even if sometimes it may not feel like it.

I’m excited to look back and see how my views will constantly change. I know right now I am most interested in maternity nursing, but it will be interesting to see where I end up. Will my path change in that I choose to work internationally? Will I choose emergency medicine, orthotics, community nursing, or geriatrics?

Who knows at this point. What is known is that I am excited to enter this profession and soak up every bit of learning I can in order to make a difference in the lives of my patients and the communities they live in. Let’s see what the next four years bring.