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.
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.
Any chess enthusiasts out there?
You can do this, Magnus!
“Later that night
I held an atlas in my lap
ran my fingers across the whole world
where does it hurt?
― Warsan Shire
It’s a beautiful day to be Norwegian. I wonder if the people of France feel the same way about being French. One of the headlines in a Norwegian newspaper today: “Many hold their noses and vote against Le Pen”. Another one states that this election is “a crossroad for Europe”. How does the media of your country present the French election? I wish I knew french well enough to read what they say about it themselves.
In one moment it’s a monster. It is coming up from behind, threatening to eat me alive.
In the next, it’s a black cloud hanging over my head – following me everywhere I go.
But in some moments, it’s just what it is.
I feel like I am drowning in my notes. But hey, at least I can explain what happens
in my body when I start freaking out.
I just had a realization. This is my second fall. I was walking through boatloads of leaves and smelling the fresh air. Suddenly, for the split second it took me to look from the swaying trees to me feet, I was transported to the other side of the world. For a moment I was in Australia and not in Norway. For a moment I expected sandals and not my usual worn out shoes.
So for a moment that’s what I saw.
Then the moment was over.
And I missed it so much.
Warning: This post contains a real heart.
I dissected a heart this week. It’s strange how this fist-sized pump keeps us alive. Lubb-dupp. Lubb-dupp. An avarage of 72 beats per minute. Lubb-dupp, lubb-dupp. It smells bad and looks nothing like the drawings I drew as a child.
Have you ever listened to your own heartbeat? It’s surreal.
The circulatory system is one of my favorite chapters so far (#NursingStudent). Genetics was fun too, but this is different. Its complexity is overwhelming: veins and arteries, electric signals and the bloodstream working perfectly together. One abnormality away from falling apart.
Beware who you give your heart to – it’s the most precious thing you’ve got.
Lubb-dupp. To me, heartbeats are like music. It can be as pleasant as the laughter of someone you love, or as horrible as their screams. When you listen to a healthy heart it is calming, when you listen to a sick one – your own heart beats faster, as if it can help the sick one pump.
Most people have been there; in a large room getting warmer by the minute. Filled with too many students. The only sounds the lecturer’s voice and fingers on keyboards. I wish.
1. The sleeper. No matter how much I concentrate – I can’t shut out her snoring. I (barely) resist the urge to “accidentally” spill my water on her.
2. The chewer. That blonde who just can’t stop chewing that gum. Occasionally snapping it. Loudly. Her phone vibrates every other minute. Every other minute.
3. The loud whisperer. The guy whispering none-stop to the girl next to him. Ten bucks they’re together before the semester ends.
4. The writer. He notes everything the lecturer says, and has ink from his pen smeared over his left chin. He’s going to get an A in this, I just know it.
5. The new girl. Unsure of what kind of student she is, she sits almost at the front. She’s twirling a pen between her fingers, trying to ignore all the distractions around her. Trying to ignore all the distractions in her own head. However, she fails and starts thinking about the world outside the crowded room – and her pen slips between her fingers and flies into the back of the head of the guy in front of her.
Yes, that last person is me.
My secrets. My thoughts. My feelings. I’ve given you my words. To have and to hold. Bits and pieces of a life lived far, far away from your own. This is my hundred post.
A 100 times I’ve told you thank you. Yet, I feel like it should be 101. Thank you.