Category Archives: Nursing

No Edit Too Mundane

16 Wednesday Aug 2017

Posted by in nurses of a certain age, Nursing, Nursing Stories, Telling Stories

≈ 4 Comments

Tags

, , ,

This is the week we spend our annual family vacation at the beach. While I have enjoyed the ocean and sand, I took some time to complete an assignment. One of my stories had been accepted by Pulse: Voices from the Heart of Medicine, a digital journal. It could be published as soon as this Friday if I could make changes suggested by the editorial staff. And I did.

While most of the edits added clarity and a deeper texture to my story, one area of discussion initially seemed mundane. However, on reflection, I came to realize how important it is to add the actual time period of a story. In this case the mid ’80s.

Desk Phone

An intern who had the lead editing assignment probably was born into the cell phone era and never experienced a “desk” phone that, in most cases, was immovable from its position unless you added an additional cord.

vintage telephone cord

For example, in order to move about room, you had to add a long extension cord from the outlet in the wall to the base phone, then hold the base with one hand and with the other clutch the receiver to one’s ear. This way you could walk away from the desk and check for a report in the near-by file cabinet. (I won’t go into the fact we had hard copies of all our documents).

If you chose to add a long line from the phone base to the receiver so you didn’t have to carry the phone base with you, you would have to scurry back to the base phone to hang up.

Coiled phone extension

Plus that cord was coiled and most often became so tangled that you had to dangle the receiver until it spun and untangled. You had to plan ahead to add the cords. If, as the young intern suggested, you added an extension cord while talking to someone, the call would be disconnected.

This is probably more than you ever cared to know about old-fashioned phones. However, I learned a lesson that sometimes we know something so intimately that we assume all others share our experiences.

 

Check this site: Pulse Friday or next Friday to see if my story made it.

 

 

 

 

SaveSave

SaveSave

SaveSave

SaveSave

SaveSave

Leaving Our Legacy

02 Wednesday Aug 2017

Posted by in American Journal of Nursing, Death & Dying, hospice, nurses of a certain age, Nursing, Nursing Stories, Telling Stories

≈ 7 Comments

Tags

, , , ,

I have been thinking for a long time about the fact that we older nurses are dying off. We will take with us our memories of nursing history. I have always loved to hear from other seasoned nurses about how they size up their nursing careers as they look back. What was important at the time, what were they happy to see disappear, and how do they assess current nursing practice and the future of the profession?

So I decided I would weigh in, occasionally, by spotlighting a nurse of a certain age, i.e., sixty and older, whether this is through an article I have read or by interviewing someone, or through my own stories.

This post is prompted by an article: Diane Saulecke, “There from the Start: A Hospice Nurse Looks Back,” American Journal of Nursing, 7, July 2017, 56-57.

The article features Dianne Puzycki, an 82-year-old nurse, who began to work with the hospice movement when it first started in the early 70s. She still works “the night shift at Connecticut Hospice once a week. ‘I want to be part of it as long as I can,’ she says, ‘It’s become part of my life, my philosophy.’”

 

 

 After graduating from nursing school in 1955, she started her career at Memorial Hospital (now part of Memorial Sloan Kettering Cancer Center) in New York City. There she cared for patients with cancer, many of them young women.

“At that time, we didn’t talk about death and dying,” she says. “We weren’t allowed to talk about that. It really haunted me for years.”

I remember those restrictions well. The diagnosis of breast cancer was withheld from my beloved Aunt Lena. I was in the first year of nursing school but never visited her in the hospital. One evening, when I was talking to my mother on the phone, I asked, “How is Aunt Lena?” “Just fine,” my mother said. That’s when I knew she had died. My mother would give me the bad new when I next went home to visit.

Puzycki mentions that she heard both Cicely Saunders, a doctor who founded the first hospice, and Elisabeth Kübler-Ross, who opened up discussion on dying through her 1969 book On Death and Dying. The early 70s were heady times in health care as discussion heated up regarding the previous taboo of being honest with patients by telling them their cancer diagnosis.

Kübler-Ross’ book was the subject of a workshop for the medical staff at the time I worked for a community hospital in the early 80s. To this day I remember one of the surgeons storming out of the classroom after loudly protesting, “my patients don’t want to hear that they have cancer.”

Being present for patients and “picking up on the little things” is to Puzycki the key to hospice nursing. And she says that seeing the compassionate actions taken by her colleagues, especially the younger ones, makes her feel hopeful about the future of the profession. She recently saw, for example, a fellow nurse lean down and kiss an elderly patient on the head. “I said, ‘That’s a good hospice nurse.’”

 

SaveSave

SaveSave

SaveSave

SaveSave

SaveSave

I HAD A DREAM

18 Tuesday Jul 2017

Posted by in Dreams, Independent nursing practice, Nurse Practitoner, Nursing, Nursing Stories

≈ Leave a comment

Tags

, ,

Revisiting the dreams.

Marianna Crane: nursing stories

Mercury Sphygmomanometer

In preparation for moving I discover the darndest things as I unpack dusty boxes stored in the attic untouched for years. This time it’s a mercury sphygmomanometer, packed in its original carton along with a “limited warranty” card that should have been filled out within ten days of purchase. Looks like I didn’t even open the box but put the blood pressure machine away for the day I would open my independent practice.

That would have been in the early 80s after I became a gerontological NP

and

after I worked in Chicago with inner city, underserved elderly

and

after I became frustrated with the lack of resources and left to become an administrator of an HMO

and

after I knew I didn’t want to be in administration

and

after going back to work as a nurse practitioner once again

and

after moving to three different states

and

after finally…

View original post 10 more words

Nurses of a Certain Age

21 Wednesday Jun 2017

Posted by in American Journal of Nursing, Nostalgia, nurses of a certain age, Nursing, Nursing Stories, Telling Stories

≈ 5 Comments

Tags

, , , , ,

Excepted from Off the Charts, May 31, 2017

 

AJN Facebook Readers on Influences, Public Attitudes to Nursing, Practices of Yesterday

by Betsy Todd, MPH, RN, CIC 

What do you remember from early in your career that would never be seen or done today?

We “nurses of a certain age” remember!—and we’re amazed at how far our profession has come. As one nurse commented, in response to early nursing practices that seem primitive today, “Oh my goodness, how has humanity survived?!”

There were, of course, our caps, white dresses, white hose, and white shoes. One nurse recalled that we always wore our school pins on our uniforms. These seem not much in evidence these days, but were always a source of pride and connection (and sometimes, lighthearted rivalries) back in the day.

In addition, nurses pointed out that the scope of practice has certainly changed. Nurses mixed soft soap for enemas, mixed weak solutions of Lysol (!) for vaginal douching. Wound care has, shall we say, evolved. Nurses recalled packing wounds with eusol (chlorinated lime plus boric acid—“cleaned wounds by removing patients’ flesh with it!”), Savlon (chlorhexidine combined with a chemical later used for disinfecting floors), Milton (a bleach solution), or sugar mixed with Betadine or egg whites. Some remembered “vigorously rubbing talc onto bums to relieve pressure” or “Maalox and heat lamp for sore butts.”

Are automated medication dispensing systems (for example, Pyxis machines) and bar codes part of your daily routine? Several comments described pouring meds from stock bottles on the unit or mixing chemotherapy solutions in the medication room. There were no medication carts, just medication trays with cups and handwritten cards for each patient (different colored cards for b.i.d, t.i.d., etc.).

“Point of care” lab testing didn’t include quality checks. One nurse remembered “burning urine samples in a glass tube over a Bunsen burner to check sugar levels.” DeLee suctioning of newborns—“I ended up with a mouth full of stomach contents more than once”—or pipetting blood and urine samples for the lab via mouth suction were also routine.

Many comments reminded us of tools rarely seen in today’s hospitals. There were time-taped IV bags, glass syringes and IV and chest tube bottles, mercury thermometers, crank beds and egg-crate mattresses, “gloveless everything,” and no hand sanitizer.

Routines and work practices of years ago may be hard to imagine today. Nurses recalled smoking during report, and patients smoking in bed. Patients were admitted “just for observation,” or a day or two prior to surgery. Each shift charted in a different color of ink. Nurses recalled time to talk with patients, and actual “acuity-based staffing” (“RIP,” as one nurse commented).

Another nurse summed up a certain sadness as she described some lost aspects of patient care:

“morning care before breakfast, clean sheets every day, evening care with back rubs, trash emptied, fresh water and being aware of the patient’s environment. [We] took time to assess the patient by the RN and listening. The care was impeccable because of the nurses who controlled the patient experience.”

Back Rub

SaveSave

SaveSave

SaveSave

SaveSave

SaveSave

SaveSave

A Little Music and Movement Can Make You See Things Differently

06 Tuesday Jun 2017

Posted by in Dance, Nursing, Writing the Book

≈ 8 Comments

Tags

, ,

Yesterday, I went to the North Carolina Art Museum at 10 a.m. to move to music.

Two women led, followed by a man in a suit holding an open laptop channeling the songs that were mostly by the Bee Gees. The women, in sequined dresses and sneakers, stomped, marched, trotted in time with the music. Thirteen women and two men, ranging in age from 20 to 70 plus, followed behind, mimicking the women’s movements. We didn’t talk.

I felt exhilarated racing through the empty museum with music bouncing off the walls surrounded by other exuberant people. The moves were not stressful. I did most of them except balancing on one leg and I stopped halfway through the jumping jacks.

The group stopped intermittently in front of a piece of art: statue, still life, portrait, and continued to move/exercise in place. Short inspirational narratives, previously taped by Maira Kalman, punctuated the music. Normally, when I visit a museum, I would gaze at the art in quiet contemplation. This time my mind and body seemed as one, absorbing the stimuli transmitted from the environment, my thoughts suspended.

When the two women dropped to the floor, I felt as if someone turned off the lights. Lying among my fellow participants with arms and legs outstretched, I realized that fifty minutes had flown by.

Now the day after, the residual glow from yesterday remains with me.

My new goal is to have more days where I step out of the ordinary.

Thanks Monica Bill Barnes & Company!

Anna Bass,me,Monica Bell Barnes, Robbie Saenz de Viteri

********************************************************************

The first performance The Museum Workout appeared at the NYC Metropolitan Museum of Art.

Check out the video of the performance. 

 

photograph by loulex for the New Yorker

Madame X, meet Ladies in Sequined Dresses and Sneakers. For “The Museum Workout,” which starts a four-week run on Jan. 19, Monica Bill Barnes and Anna Bass, Everywoman dancers of deadpan zaniness, guide tours of the Metropolitan Museum of Art before public hours, leading light stretching and group exercises as they go. Recorded commentary by the illustrator Maira Kalman, who planned the route, mixes with Motown and disco tunes. Might raised heart rates and squeaking soles heighten perception?

SaveSave

SaveSave

SaveSave

SaveSave

SaveSave

SaveSave

SaveSave

Don’t Question the Doctor Part 2

05 Sunday Mar 2017

Posted by in Doctors, Home Health, Nurses, Nursing Stories, Telling Stories

≈ 1 Comment

Tags

, ,

I posted last week about my friend Lois’ run in with a nasty doctor soon after she graduated nursing school in the 60s.

Here is my story about working with a difficult physician that took place in the mid 80s.

The medical director, Doctor X, sat me down in her office on my first day as a nurse practitioner in a home care program at a large VA Medical Center and said, “When the doctor and nurse disagree, the doctor WINS.” She repeated this twice with a glare to discourage whatever protest I might be considering.

I can still see her fleshy face framed by cropped curly hair and a white lab coat stretching over her heavy shoulders. We sat in two chairs in her warm office facing each other without a desk between us. Did she know something about me that prompted this confrontation? Or was she always so caustic with nurse practitioners? She was a rising star in the organization. I didn’t expect this intimidating behavior.

I nodded my head as if I agreed with her dictum. What good would it do to argue since I hadn’t a clue what kind of disagreement we would have? What could happen in a health care setting that would be black or white, right or wrong, a doctor wins and a nurse loses?

What reassured me that Dr. X and I might never have a run in was that I would have autonomy when I made home visits. And I would call another doctor on the team if I needed advice, not the medical director.

One day, while visiting a patient his wife stated, casually, that Dr. X had stopped by on her way home from work. She felt flattered that the medical director would take the time to see how she and her husband were doing. What reason did Dr. X have to visit and not tell me? Not wanting to involve the patient’s wife in a conspiratorial alliance, I smiled and said nothing.

images-1

Dr. X visited a second patient. The scenario was the same: wife mentions the visit, I smile and say nothing. An uncomfortable sense of being under surveillance hounded me. What was Dr. X looking for?

Shortly after, Dr. X was promoted to a leadership position and left the home care program. There was no fallout from her clandestine visits to my patients. Would there have been if she stayed with the home care program and continued her unorthodox conduct?

I am grateful that I didn’t need to confront her—for surely I would lose.

Don’t Question the Doctor

19 Sunday Feb 2017

Posted by in Doctors, Health Care Services, Memoir, Nursing, Nursing in the 60s, Nursing Stories

≈ 7 Comments

Tags

, , ,

My friend Lois and I were talking on the phone the other day. We both graduated from diploma nursing schools in the early 60s. It was a time when the nurse was considered the “handmaiden” of the physician. We played the Doctor-Nurse Game* and even stood up when a doctor entered a room. Feeling powerless to confront their authority, not surprisingly, caused us to harbor much resentment towards the medical profession over our long nursing careers.

I told Lois that my volunteer work at a local hospital has exposed me to the improved interactions between nurses and physicians. Of course, having more female physicians has leveled the playing field somewhat and the emphasis on “team” encourages the professionals to respect and work together to care for the patient. I have fresh insight into the challenges physicians face in the health care delivery system that restrict their practice and autonomy. While I do feel more sympathetic toward physicians, I cannot forget the unbalanced relationship nurses once endured.

 

Here is an example from Lois’ book, Caring Lessons.411isrlw3gl-_ac_us320_ql65_

One afternoon while making rounds, I dashed in to see, Mr. Barnes, my last patient, in 236-1, the triple ward next to the nurses’ station. He smiled when he saw me. “I’m going out for dinner tonight. Dr. Jericho is picking me up at five.”

“Oh? I didn’t know. He didn’t tell us at the desk,” I said, scanning his Kardex card in the vertical file positioned on my left arm. “I’ll check on it.”

Back at the nurses’ station, I checked the doctor’s order sheet for Mr. Barnes. Hospital policy dictated that patients could leave hospital grounds only with written orders from their attending physician. Dr. Jericho was not the attending physician; he was a personal friend. And there was no written order.

I faced a potential explosion. Dr. Jericho’s capacity to be short-tempered was well-known to the nursing staff.  We’d each had our experiences. None of us liked it, but we felt powerless to do anymore than endure. And I didn’t need the problem right then: I wanted to give report on time and get home on time, once.

I dialed his office. “Hello, Dr. Jericho, this is Mrs. Roelofs on Hall Two. Your friend, Joseph Barnes, told me you were picking him up for dinner.” I swallowed hard and took a breath. “I see no written order covering this leave. I’m calling to see if you’ve run this by his attending, Dr. Acorn.”

He barked into my eardrum. “I don’t need to check anything out with anybody. Do you hear me? It’s none of your business….who is this again? What’s your name?”

“Mrs. Roelofs. Head nurse. Hall Two.” I forced my voice to sound strong.

“I’m coming right over to clean your clock,” Dr. Jericho yelled into the phone.

My head and heart spun wildly into one big tuft of fear that settled in my throat. I raced to a friend working on the ward at the other end of my floor. We schemed to hide me on that ward when Dr. Jericho arrived. Then we stationed lookout nurses. Minutes later I got the message. I ducked into Room 214, a five-bed room on East, and hid behind curtains drawn around a vacant bed. When Dr. Jericho arrived, my cohorts told him I was off the floor on an errand. He strode into my nurses’ station across from Room 201, parked himself on my desk chair, and bellowed, “I’ll wait.”

When I was a student nurse a few years before, I had scrubbed to assist Dr. Jericho in surgery. He became irritated with something and kicked a metal wastebasket across the room. Anesthesia saved the patient from being startled off the operating table. However, my nerves, as a novice, vibrated with the intensity of the metal clanging against steel and tile. Now my nerves were vibrating once again.

Suddenly, my friend peeked around the curtain, wearing worry on her face. “He won’t leave until he sees you. He’s camped out. Slicked back hair, black suit, green paisley tie, and all. You better come.”

I returned to the utility room on my ward with its steel cabinets, stowed commodes and IV poles, soaking instruments and thermometers, and corner hopper – a large square toilet-like bowl for rinsing bedpans. Standing in the doorway to the adjacent nurses’ station, I said as confidently as possible, “Dr. Jericho, I’m back. I understand you want to see me?”

Dr. Jericho launched to a standing position. “You bet I do. Who do you think you are to question what I’m doing? To tell me I need a doctor’s order to take my friend out for dinner?” His words torpedoed through the nurses’ station and up the ramp to pediatrics.18064403-angry-doctor-in-glasses-with-notebook

He stomped toward me. I backed away, inch-by-inch, until I was flush with the hopper. One more step and I’d plop into hopper water. I was trapped. Only the smothering smells of disinfectant separated us. “It’s my responsibility to see that hospital policy is followed, sir,” I said. My breath stopped momentarily.

“Who are you to tell me what hospital policy says? You, young lady, are never to question me again. Do you understand?”

His words slapped my face like sleet on a winter walk. I could have punched him – he was close enough – but I thought better of it. “Yes, sir.” I held back a salute that he seemed to demand. He turned, clicked his heels, and marched out, as if on a military drill.

My meds nurse, LPN, and aides crowded into the small nurses’ station. “What happened? What’d he say? I’ve never seen him so mad. At least not this week.”

“Oh, the usual Dr. Jericho stuff. Nothing new.” I said, trying to sound nonchalant with a heart rate of over a hundred.

Reaching for the desk phone, I glanced at a list of phone numbers and dialed Mr. Barnes’ attending physician. He gave me the order. Why hadn’t I called him in the first place?

I determined never to let a doctor’s behavior intimidate me again.

Caring Lessons: A Nursing Professor’s Journey of Faith and Self, Lois Hoitenga Roelofs, 2012, pp 49-50

 

 

* Doctors and nurses: new game, same result

Mark Radcliffe, deputy features editor

BMJ. 2000 Apr 15; 320(7241): 1085.

“In the beginning the relationship between doctors and nurses was clear and simple. Doctors were superior. They had the hard knowledge that made ill people better. The nurses, usually women, were good but not necessarily very knowledgeable. They were in charge of folding pillowcases and mopping brows. . . .

In 1967 Dr Leonard Stein first outlined the doctor-nurse game. He said that the interactions between the two were carefully managed so as not to disturb the fixed hierarchy. Nurses were bold, had initiative, and were responsible for important recommendations. While being bold, however, they had to appear passive. In short, nurses were able to make recommendations as long as they made it look as if they were initiated by doctors. So the nurse was responsible for the wellbeing of her patients and the nourishment of the doctors’ sense of professional self.”

Are You Glad You Became a Nurse?

03 Friday Feb 2017

Posted by in Medscape, Nurses, Nursing

≈ 5 Comments

Tags

, , ,

I found an interesting study regarding nurses’ satisfaction with their career choice. Note the respondents were middle-aged (45 – 64) and predominately female.

Since my specialty is gerontology, I have included the comments made by three older nurses. Yes, Yes, I know they are all positive.

I look forward to a study that includes younger nurses and more males. Would there be differences in the outcome?

Most Nurses Have Few to No Regrets About Career Choice

by Alicia Ault

Medscape, January 25, 2017

When asked what they liked best about their career, most nurses could not narrow it down to just one answer — instead, they gave multiple reasons, with relationships with patients, being good at what they do, and having a job they liked being among the top answers, in a new survey by Medscape.

The Medscape Nurse Career Satisfaction Report for 2016 surveyed 10,026 practicing nurses in the United States, including licensed practical nurses (LPNs), registered nurses (RNs), and advanced practice registered nurses (APRNs). The respondents were largely female, middle-aged (aged 45 to 64 years), and in practice more than 21 years.

The different nurse specialists varied slightly in how they ranked the most rewarding aspects of their job. For LPNs, the top answers were gratitude from patients and relationships with patients, along with being proud of what they do. For RNs, those answers ranked high in their response, along with working at a job they liked and being very good at what they do.

I have been a nurse for 54 years & am still practicing part time. I have loved almost every one of my jobs & have so expanded my mind & approach. Nursing is so varied that one can do almost anything. I was originally a diploma nurse & have taught in an AD program. After 13 years as a practicing nurse, I returned to school to find that I was given little if any credit for my excellent 3-year diploma program. I had to start all over again & spent 4 years as a full time student (with another year of graduate school). The AD & BSN programs offered similar clinical practica. It’s very unfortunate that the clinical aspects of the diploma programs could not be salvaged for the other two. Nursing needs an internship after the 4-year education. Practical skills will always be necessary for clinical nurses.

I was recently hired by my current employer at 72 years of age because of my experience. How nice to be so valued even at my age. I can’t imagine doing anything other than nursing. What a rich and rewarding professional life it has been.

Lynne D. Pancoast, RN, MSN

Among APRNs, gratitude figured least highly for clinical nurse specialists (CNSs) and certified registered nurse anesthetists (CRNAs), when compared with the higher percentages among nurse midwives and nurse practitioners. Working at a job they liked and being good at that job were the biggest rewards cited by CNSs and CRNAs.

Money was rarely cited by any nurse — at around 2% for most of the specialties — as the most rewarding aspect of their job, although 8% of CNRAs said it was important.

Although salary and pay did not figure greatly into the rewards side of the equation, it did come up when nurses were asked about least satisfying aspects of their job. The “amount of money I am paid” was the top answer for LPNs and CNSs, cited by 23% and 17% respectively, as the least satisfying part of the job.

Surprisingly, some 6% to 11% of respondents said “nothing,” when asked what was least satisfying about their job.

Lack of Respect a Looming Issue

I’m glad I became a nurse and would do it again.  I’ve worked on the same inpatient oncology unit for 35 years. I am nearly 70, work 24 hours a week and wil continue working for sometime.  Financially I do not have to work.

I am employed by one of the largest HMOs in the country which has many unionized employees.  My pay and benefits are excellent.  The most satisfying part of my job is being appreciated by the patients.  I work on a unit that has exceptionally dedicated staff that truely care about the people we take care of.

The least favorite part of my job is charting; it’s cumbersome, duplicative and often not read. It takes us away from comforting, listening to and teaching our patients.

Margaret McGowan-Tuttle|  Registered Nurse (RN)

A good many nurses — LPNs, RNs, and APRNs — found documentation requirements to be burdensome, and 11% to 13% of respondents said a lack of respect from physicians and other colleagues was also discouraging. For CRNAs, the lack of respect was the greatest frustration on the job, with about a third saying it was an issue.

Although the low percentage of survey respondents who said respect was a problem might not indicate a huge problem, it was a repeated theme in comments. Nurses of all stripes indicated frustration with what they viewed as a lack of respect from administrators, physicians, patients, and even peers.

One expressed dismay with the “attitude of some patients that the hospital is a hotel and that I am a glorified waitress.” Another APRN cited “the constant battle to be seen as a provider and not just another nurse by the nurses and support staff in the office.”

Some nurses also expressed frustration with what they saw as a lack of support, citing overwhelming workloads; insufficient staff or resources; and excessive regulations, oversight, and payer denials. On the negative side, managers were called unsupportive, incompetent, uncommunicative, and not having a good appreciation of their jobs. Physicians were described as bullying, rude, and disrespectful.

Most Would Change Practice Setting

Some 95% of survey respondents said they were glad they’d become a nurse, and close to as many said they’d choose nursing as a profession if they had to do it all over again. CRNAs were least likely to say they would choose nursing again (73%).

I chose nursing as a career by accident. I entered a diploma program in 1964 because: it was affordable ($600 for three years of education, books, uniforms and housing); I was good at science; and I didn’t want to be a teacher or secretary. Nursing was the best thing that ever happened to me. I loved every bit of it, working in ICU, pediatrics, mental health and finally teaching.

I went on to get a BS, MSN and EdD, all paid for by my employers. The flexible hours allowed me to work and raise a family. When I needed money for college for my children, I continued teaching and worked weekends in the hospital. I loved working with patients and sharing my passion, knowledge and skills with students and other nurses.

Although I am retired, I still do occasional consulting to nursing programs. One of my greatest rewards is seeing nurses I have taught at work and knowing I played a small role in their career.

Jessica Price|  Registered Nurse (RN)

screen-shot-2017-02-03-at-4-25-35-pm

Most nurses indicated they would not choose the same practice setting if given the chance to start over. Those who worked in hospitals were the most likely — at 28% — to say they’d stick with that setting. Close behind, 27% who work in an academic setting said they’d choose that setting again. Those in skilled nursing, home health, or contract/agency positions were least likely, at 11% to 15%, to say they would choose the same setting.

Dissatisfied Not Making Big Changes

Those who were dissatisfied and said they would not choose nursing again were asked what they might do in the next 3 years to address their frustration.

Small numbers said they’d choose a different career path within nursing, retire earlier, reduce their hours, leave nursing to pursue other jobs, or seek other professional training. About a quarter to almost a half said they would not pursue any of those options.

Survey participants commented that nursing paid decently, offered job security, and that it might be too expensive or time-consuming to make a big career change at this point in their life.

APRNs were less likely than RNs and LPNs to say that they planned to act. Not surprisingly, similarly, the survey found that the higher the nurse’s educational level, the less likely the nurse was to plan a career change within 3 years.

When asked what they might do if they left nursing, some respondents said they’d start their own business, pursue an MBA, or go to physical therapy, dental, or medical school.

The desire to become a physician did not necessarily reflect badly on nursing as a career, said one respondent. “I am not sorry about my nursing career, which has been rich and fulfilling, but if I had to do it over again, I would pursue medicine as a career,” the nurse commented.

What is a Student Nurse?

21 Saturday Jan 2017

Posted by in Nostalgia, Nursing, Nursing in the 60s, student nurse

≈ 3 Comments

Tags

, ,

Carol Ann, a friend of mine from nursing school, recently came to visit. She and her husband live in California. They cruised the Panama Canal over Christmas, drove to see friends in Clearwater, Florida, toured both Savannah and Charleston and traveled to Raleigh, North Carolina to stay with us for a few days. Immediately, we began to reminisce about our school years. I pulled out the Lumine 1962img_0075 yearbook so we could scan our younger selves when we lived in the nursing residence with 42 other young women. For three years, the Gray Nuns of Montreal instilled in us the essence of nursing along with the skills and art of the profession.

Of course, much has changed since then (I will write more about this in later posts). At the time, we nursing students staffed the hospital on the evening and night shifts where a senior student nurse filled the charge position and second year students worked under her. None of us were paid for this “experience.”

The following essay printed in our yearbook describes the student nurse—all young women. I don’t know the author, Barbara Garrity, nor do I agree that student nurses wore white before they graduated.

Many of you older nurses will recognize the out-dated attitudes of the time and most of you youngsters may be scratching your heads wondering could a student nurse be a real person.

What do you think?

images-1

WHAT IS A STUDENT NURSE?

By Barbara Garrity

Student nurses are found everywhere, underneath, on top of, or slithering past patients’ beds. Doctors yell at them, head nurses criticize them, residents overlook them, mothers worry about them, and patients love them.

A student nurse is courage under a cap, a smile in snowy white, strength in starched skirts, energy that is endless, the best of young womanhood, a modern Florence Nightingale. Just when she is gaining poise and prestige, she drops a glass, breaks a syringe or steps on a doctor’s foot.

A student nurse is a composite. She eats like a team of hungry interns and works like the whole nursing staff put together. She has the speed of a gazelle, the strength of an ox, the quickness of a cat, the endurance of a flagpole sitter, the abilities of Florence Nightingale, Linda Richards, and Clara Barton all rolled into one white uniform.

To the head nurse, she has the stability of mush, the fleetness of a snail, the mentality of a mule and is held together by starch, adhesive tape and strained nerves. To an alumna, she will never work as hard, carry more trays, make more beds, or scrub on more cases than her predecessors.

A student nurse likes days off, boys her own age, the O.R., affiliations, certain doctors, pretty clothes, her roommate, Mom and Dad. She’s not much on working 3-11, days off with class, alarm clocks, getting up for roll call, or eating corn beef every Tuesday.

No one else looks forward so much to a day off or so little with working 3-11. No one else gets so much pleasure from straightening a wrinkled sheet or wetting a pair of parched lips. No one else can cram into one little head the course of a disease, the bones comprising the pelvis, what to do when a patient is in shock, how to insert a Cantor tube (usually at 3 A.M.) plus the ten top tunes of the hit parade.

A student nurse is a wonderful creature; you can criticize her, but you can’t discourage her. You can hurt her feelings, but you can’t make her quit. Might as well admit it, whether you are a head nurse, doctor, alumna, or patient, she is your personal representative of the hospital, your living symbol of faith and sympathetic care.

The Story Behind the Message

07 Saturday Jan 2017

Posted by in Memoir, Nurse Practitoner, Nursing, Nursing Stories, Writing the Book

≈ 6 Comments

Tags

, , , ,

 

Rearranging my bookcase, I came across a book with the following inscription:

img_0050

To Marianna–No, it’s not easy! But you can do it. All the best, Molly

This is the story behind the message:

I had been writing for as long as I can remember. I saved many of my stories in longhand on scraps of paper, on faded yellow legal pads, and typed up on an old manual typewriter with multiple errors (I flunked typing in high-school). All were unedited and unfinished.

In the early 90s when I lived in the Washington DC area, I started to take writing more seriously by attending classes and conferences. One of the workshops was sponsored by the Smithsonian. I can’t remember for the life of me the woman who conducted the class. What I do remember was the cross section of adults who sat on folded chairs in the cramped room three stories below ground level at the Dillon Ripley Center. At one session, the instructor had invited her friend who was visiting from out of state, the author Molly Giles.

Molly looked to be about my age. She had reddish blond hair and a warm, earthy persona. I immediately wanted to be her best friend. She described the office she rented so she could write undisturbed.

After the class, I stood along side of the table where Molly was autographing her latest book: Creek Walk and Other Stories (still in print). creek-walk-by-molly-gilesShe was poised with pen in hand ready to inscribe the book to me as I chatted on about how much I enjoyed her talk and how I thought writing was fun. She cocked an eyebrow at me as if I had just told her I still believed in the tooth fairy. Gently, she told me that writing could be difficult.

Now, over 20 years later, I have written many words, finished and published some stories. I completed a memoir and am investigating self-publishing venues. For me, writing is more arduous than exhilarating. My greatest strength is persistence.

How I wish I could meet with Molly over a mocha latte at some cozy coffee house. I know what she was trying to tell me so long ago. She was right.