I was standing next to my unconscious patient, when it happened. Grey dots gathered; blurring my vision. Breathe, I told myself. I knew I needed to let the others know what was happening, but I couldn’t speak. I couldn’t even slide down to the floor. All I could do was to hold on to the operating table. Everything went black.
Anyone fancy a makeover?
And you would think I passed out. But I didn’t. No, instead I was caught in this strange inbetween. I was completely powerless, but I could still hear the nurses and doctors talking. I couldn’t make out the words they were saying, but I held on to their voices. I was not going to become the student that fainted before the operation even started.
Eventually one of them noticed that I had gone white as snow. I was placed in a chair, and up my legs went. My ears were ringing, and I was blinking like crazy. Blind as blind can be. Slowly, ever so slowly, the world came back to me. I could make out “you’re not the first one.” Gradually, shadows replaced darkness, and grey figures replaced shadows.
I sat outside for several minutes afterwards, watching my feet.
I can’t explain why it happened. Perhaps it was the new smells. Perhaps it was the face-mask. Perhaps it was my sky-high expectations. I’d been looking forward to the operation for so long – imagine how I felt when I messed up so early on. I was scared they wouldn’t let me come back in. However, after dutifully drinking several glasses of juice, they did.
And for the five and a half hours the operation took – I actually enjoyed myself immensely.
The examinator called my name and I stepped up. “The assignment is to change the stoma and teach the patient how to do so himself.” I was overjoyed. Over the last few weeks I’ve spent hours upon hours practicing the different tasks we could receive, and this one I felt confident in.
My patient ❤
The exam began. And it went wrong from the beginning. Suddenly I couldn’t remember the order of things. Suddenly I couldn’t explain my actions. I drew a complete blank on the first two questions she asked me. My pulse quickened. My breathing became shallow. Nothing about my hands resembled the firm, yet gentle, touch of a nurse.
With real patients I’ve never wavered. But with this doll? My hands were shaking.
“Tell the patient what you’re thinking,” the examinator said. Our eyes met. I didn’t need her to say it out loud to know what she was thinking. I refused to give up though. I struggled onward and made awkward conversation with the doll. It went a little bit better, but not nearly good enough. The last minutes were miserable ones.
I’m sorry for the awful treatment this time, but at least you know that I know better.
The nerves really got the better of me this time. What’s worse, I can tell you exactly where I went wrong. When push came to shove I choked – I couldn’t show my knowledge when it mattered. Have any of you ever experienced something similar? If you haven’t, be glad, because it downright sucks.
I had a bad day yesterday. First I overslept by an hour, then I was completely unfocused at school – and to top it off, I overcooked my yummy-looking fish.
There was only one solution – yoga. I used to do it regularly, but that’s years ago now. However, I’ve been thinking about getting back to it. Stretching, lots of breathing, and relaxing – sounds like what every stressed out student needs, right?
Wrong. Oh so very, very wrong. Twist this way, bend that way, and get those elbows to the floor! It was torture to peaceful music. To make matters worse, my mokey mind refused to shut up. It kept going on about push-pause injections, and oh-my-god-this-pose-hurts.
Perhaps some days are just like this. No matter how hard you try, it just won’t do. Thank goodness for tomorrows. Thank goodness for sleep being twist- and bend-free. And thank goodness whoever invented the “Destroyer of universe”-pose, is far, far away from me.
Because I don’t drink coffee. But I do have so much to tell you.
It’s been several weeks since I suddenly stopped posting (again). I’m back in Norway, back in school, and have already had my first exam. In two weeks I have another. Ususally we have our exams at the end of the semester, but the second year Nursing students will spend months at the hospital, so the idea is to get the exams out of the way.
The days are becoming shorter and shorter, but feel longer and longer.
I don’t blog that much about it, but studying Nursing is hard. In this week alone we have done (on each other): peripheral venous catheter, sub q pain pump, several different injections, and nasogastric tube. There’s been a lot of blood. Suffice to say, I’m tired at the end of the day.
It took a couple of tries, but everyone finally found a vein!
Despite the struggle, I’m happy. I’ve started dancing again, I’m spending more time with the people I care about, and ultimately doing more of the things that I love. I just often find myself exhausted. I wish I had more energy to blog. I haven’t even answered all of your amazing comments. I have read them though, and appreciated Every. Single. One.
Thanks for sticking with me through it all!
Lastly, I just want to wish you well. Feel free to tell me about what you’ve been up to since I’ve been gone! And if you’ve had a bad week, remember it’s almost Friday. It’s almost Friday!
There since the days of King John, the Dublin Castle still stands. Large, yet not colossal. Hidden, yet not forgotten. Amongst new buldings, the castle can be found in the centre of Dublin. The outside is befitting the royals that once lived there. However, it still doesn’t do the inside justice.
From the side of the castle
Tourists can only visit parts of the castle. You can either buy a self-guided ticket (and download a free app for an audio guide) and venture through the State Apartments, or you can join a tour that also shows the Viking Excavation and the Chapel Royal. Student tickets are available.
The State Drawing room. Today in use for the reception of foreign dignitaries.
The royals were all about fireplaces, floor to ceiling windows and chandeliers. They had at least two fireplaces in every room, and a room for every possible occasion. I wonder what it was like living here. Were they happy? Did they sometimes wish to be normal, and not have to follow each uncomfortable (#corsets) fashion trend?
Because if you didn’t look like this guy, were you even a royal?
I would recommend a visit to the Dublin Castle to anyone in the area. Be prepared to spend at least an hour and a half. It’s easy to lose yourself in imagining how they lived, and fascinating to compare the previous functions of the rooms to the new ones. The castle is a significant part of the history of Dublin, and will continue to be.
Saint Patrick’s Hall. Formerly the ballroom, today used for presidential inaugurations.
Dublin is organized chaos. It is a mix of soft and hard, modern and old. In one moment you can walk down cobblestone streets with flowers hanging from every lamppost. In the next, the edges of the modern houses are in sharp contrast to the traditional brick ones. And then, suddenly, palm trees.
The traditional Irish weather is overcast, with a strong chance of lots of rain.
Dublin is the largest city and capital of Ireland. Walking around today, you’d never think it started as a Viking settlement. The citizens seem constantly happy, and the sound of clinking glasses and Irish music drift out through the open doors of the many local pubs – seven days a week. Inbetween there’s loud voices speaking polite words.
You can find the Dublin Castle amongst colorful new buildings.
I love Dublin so far. It is welcoming and tourist-friendly. My only objection is that if you can’t party like the Irish – find a hotel outside of the city centre. Irish people believe that a couple of pints a day keeps the doctor away, and sleep is therefore overrated. Lastly, if someone asks you to join them for “strong tea”, you better believe it’s not tea.
I’m in love with these lampposts ❤
Let the waves hit your feet, and the sand be your seat ❤
It happened in the blink of an eye, we were getting on a bus, and while I stepped on – I felt a push. I steadied myself, and just knew. I knew, but it was too late. I looked down and my purse was open. I searched it to be sure, but my wallet? It was gone.
To my surprise, I got the wallet back. I was trying to explain the situation to my friends, when a lady tapped me on the shoulder and pointed to the floor. My wallet. I picked it up and thanked her, not even considering that she might be the thief. But she could have been. Anyone can be a thief.
I wonder where they went with my money…
I feel somewhat lucky in my misfortune, because they left my card. It appears Bulgarian thieves are quite like the rest of Bulgaria – old fashioned. However, I also have this strange sensation in my stomach. Empty? Angry? Mostly confused I think, and a bit… Humiliated? They didn’t get much; I always spread my valuables, but still – someone targeted me, and I, the supposedly seasoned traveler, was unable to prevent it.
Perhaps the thief/ the thieves will buy themselves something tasty – too bad not for me too.
Back at the hotel, my friends still kindly comforting me, one of them realized that she had been robbed too. In her case they had managed to slip the wallet back into her purse. We have no idea how, and writing this, I can’t help but be a little impressed. It is a cruel way to make a living, but it definitely takes speed and skill.
Have any of you ever been robbed? All comments appreciated!
It’s me again. Still alive.
If you wonder where I’ve been; I’ve spent the last month in the cardiac medical ward. As an employee, thankfully. I got a summer job as an assistant. I’ve learned a great deal, and I’ve never been more sure of my choice of studying nursing.
However, it’s only now I fully realize what I’ve gotten myself into. Picture walking into a room, and wonder if the person there is breathing. Picture having a pleasant conversation, and it suddenly turns into “can you hear me? Hey, are you still with me?” and an emergency team. At all times, two heartbeats may turn to one.
The absence of a heartbeat is the loudest silence I’ve ever heard.
Now, don’t misunderstand me, most of the time everything turns out okay. One evening might be about her heartbeat slowing and mine racing, but the next morning it’ll be like it never happened, and we go back to me saying “bear with me, I’m sure I’ll figure out how to change ECG/EKG paper eventually…” and she replying “I remember being a student, oh those were the days…”
This picture is from the basement. Want to guess how many times I got lost down here?
In Norway, it takes three years to become a nurse. In the fall I start my second year. It’s still a long road in front of me, but what an adventure. And at this moment, I see only green lights ahead.