Piles of wrinkled paper gradually kept building up across the horizontal table while some of us were striving to think what to write and then type for our seatworks. Most of my life, I’ve encountered many hindrances along the way, if not all of them. Some of those challenges were difficult, while there were those that were not. Since writing is one of my fortes, it shouldn’t be a problem for me to tackle an essay, except for one thing: its title was…
“Why I Took Nursing?”
Before my high school graduation, both me and my parents have already decided which school that I would enroll myself into based on its location and accessibility. My first course of choice was Journalism because I love doing writing and research, something that my dad didn’t approve of because it wasn’t in demand. He said that I could continue writing for research in the nursing field by studying for my doctoral degree. As a reply, I told him that if the school that I would study in doesn’t offer a course in Journalism, then I would take up nursing.
As an introverted person with low confidence and bravery, it was hard for me to be in a nursing school. Battling through exams, reports, stiffly required paperworks, recitations, theses, and return demonstrations were okay, but being exposed to real patients was a challenge.
Despite being the last among the group to leave her assigned areas and sometimes being partnered up with another student nurse who didn’t offer to help take care of our patient, I was one of the students who put their patients’ health first before themselves. And of all my patients, one of them was the most memorable even though I’ve already forgotten his identity.
The patient was a young man who had some kind of problem with his foot. During the time when I was doing a minor procedure on him with the guidance of my clinical instructor, we were surrounded by many of my classmates because it was a procedure that they saw the first time around. I thought to myself that with the number of people looming over me, especially those who were in white uniforms, I probably would be anxious if I were in his situation. Hence, after we were both alone and the procedure was done, I explained to him the reason why a lot of my classmates were there with us so that he would feel at ease.
While some of my classmates were busy attending to other patients and some of them wanted to rest, a female staff nurse asked who among us wanted to give two IM (Intramuscular) injections to the man. Even though all of us were already tired due to the increasing number of patients that we had to take care of and due to the non-conducive environment of the hospital, I volunteered to give the injections not because the man was my patient, but it’s one of the procedures that I’ve grown confident with.
In some of my duties, other clinical instructors did procedures on other patients without giving me the opportunity to do them while guiding me, while there were those who reprimanded me for not doing some procedures right. Those kinds of situations made me believe that maybe nursing wasn’t for me in spite receiving a high grade in subjects that require research.
I could’ve shifted to Journalism by my third year. I could’ve just listened to my mom’s advice instead of my dad’s in the first place. But I never did.
What that young man had in common with my other patients was his gratitude, and it was from that simple “Thank you” that made me continue nursing for not only do I want to be recognized for my contributions as a nurse researcher, but I also want to be acknowledged and appreciated by the people whose lives that I’ve touched.
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