Pixiesmom, BSN 5,661 Views
Joined: Apr 19, '06;
Posts: 332 (14% Liked)
; Likes: 89
4 year(s) of experience
Yes they are fully accredited!
I start in May. I completed their RN to BSN a year ago. I tried the brick and mortar route for my FNP and found that sitting in a classroom with a teacher I could barely understand wasn't for me! Good luck to everyone!
I plan to start in September I was wondering the same!
Got my acceptance to USA FOR WHNP 😄 starting in Summer
Nurses don't prescribe. Physicians do that.
This is actually happening nationwide. Pharmacists are being trained and allowed to give flu shots and other vaccines. I have to say, if they are properly trained on the technique, what's the big deal? No one knows the side effects/medication info better than a pharmacist.
My school didn't teach IV placement or blood draws either. This is common.
We didn't do ANY IV's in my school...and I went to a very good school. When I started in the NICU we just jumped in and learned, it was required to get off orientation. Now I work in the peds cardiac ICU and most of those nurses have no idea how to place IV's because they use primarily IV team but I will always look and if I see something go for it. It's a skill I don't want to loose and one that many of my colleagues are jealous that I know how to do. But honestly I was never really taught, watched a few then just started trying
Esme12, always know the right words to say and how to say them.
She always offers virtual hugs, wisdom, and great advice. Even in the heated threads, when she posts she resets the tone of the thread and everyone seems to simmer down.
When I first started CVICU six months ago I was able to send her a PM of the most silly questions, like how to turn a stopcock(think that is the correct spelling) when checking the CO.
Thank you for your kindness, patience, brainsheets, recommending helpful websites, your work and labor for AN does not go unnoticed.
I just wanted to say that I love her, I appreciate her, and want to be like her when I grow up.
(This message is approved by onlybyhisgraceRN)
I would like to do some research on just how much spirit or divine intervention goes on in our work. Crazy as it may sound to some, I know there are good stories out there where things happen and as nurses, we just can't explain them. We all know just how much faith and spirituality play a role in healing (and dying) for our patients. Not only do I believe stories like this could help out patients, but it helps me as a nurse believe there is faith and where there is faith there is hope. I will tell you one of my stories and hope to hear some of yours. Names and places will change to protect privacy.
I had just started my night shift and right after report my patient's bed alarm went off. I ran in the room of "Bella" who was there for CHF exacerbation. She was a 92 yr old Italian women who was as short as she was wide and had the thickest accent ever. She was trying to get up to use the restroom, so I turned off the bed alarm, grabbed her walker, and helped her to the bathroom. She asked me to step out, so I did without shutting the bathroom door. While she sat there, I placed my name on the whiteboard, just on the other side of the bathroom wall. In big letters I wrote "RN : Camille".
Right after this, the Bi-Pap alarm on my other patient was going off and I asked a CNA to stay in the room to help Bella back to bed, while I check on my Respiratory patient.
When I came back to check on "Bella," she was sitting up in bed, staring at the whiteboard sobbing and crying. I asked why was she crying and if she was feeling any pain or chest pain. She replied no, but sternly asked me, "Are you Camille?" I said, "Yes, and I am your nurse for tonight." She then explained to me that she thought her daughter, who's name was Camille, had put her name on the board, but she had died 2 months earlier from stomach cancer.
While my patient was still crying, I explained to her that she could of gotten any nurse in the hospital, but I believed her daughter was watching over her and sent me to care for her. She shook her head and stopped crying at that moment.
Just then the on call cardiologist walked in and introduced herself as.....Dr. Camille Smith. I looked at my patient who was then smiling ear to ear. Bella then knew for sure her daughter was watching over her.
Dear floor, ED and ICU nurses,
Please forgive me.
I know he's dying. I get it. I do. We were told five years. Five years on an outlier and he would be gone. We were told transplant was an option but with the dismal survival rates, we opted for rehab. He is now eight years post diagnosis.
We know we are lucky have had him this long. It doesn't make this any easier. Please don't say it like it's a mantra of comfort. For reasons I don't know or even fully understand, it only makes the sting more sharp.
We see it, you know. The mental status changes. The lack of control. The shuffling gate. The use of accessory muscles.
We see it.
And we know exactly what it means.
When he can't remove his bipap to eat, we know. When he can't lower the head of his bed past thirty degrees, we know. When he can't talk, we know.
Forgive me, please, my many sins. Forgive me the overbearing stare and raised eyebrow. Forgive me for repositioning him and demanding another pillow for under his heels. I'm helpless, you see, to stop the very shadow that will claim him and I have nothing else to cling to. I have nothing else but what now feel as tedious, miniscule scraps of knowledge that amount to nothing. No cure. No hope. I'm lost.
You must understand that when I nearly demand to read the orders or see the chart, when I loom over your shoulder, it is not that I don't trust you...it is that I don't trust myself. I don't trust myself to be cope, to make all the right choices, to advocate, to deal with the loss and reconcile the feelings of guilt, of doubt, and pain.
I beg you to understand that I'm scared to death and helpless and a control freak and for once I can't make it better. Understand that I glare instead of cry, laugh instead of scream, and go silent when angry. It's dysfunctional, but it's my way.
And I don't want to be up later at night, pacing a hole in my carpeting, consumed by nausea and a feeling of coulda-woulda-shoulda.
So when you see me wandering the halls, wringing my hands, biting my lip and growling under my breath, please don't be afraid to offer a kind word. It is what I need to hear. Even if I do not acknowledge that I heard it at all. Trust me, it got through. And I will remember.
You must understand that this man is precious to me--that I want to guard him the way he guarded me from myself. That when I call every two hours to demand a neuro status check it is because I am not there and I am struggling to convince myself that I really do need to sleep even after being up for nearly thirty six straight hours and you are my eyes and ears and everything else.
Please see what that cranky, demanding creature is to me. He wasn't always this way--a brain sitting in an acid bath is a terrible thing. I can't control what's happening to his body but I can control the flavor of his Jell-O and so, you know what? If that means raising holy hell with Dietary so I can get red Jell-O for him, then I will. Because it's all I have.
Be genuine with us. We can handle it.
Know that he is the first man, since my grandfather, who treated me with kindness, and god help me, love, even though I was a crazed woman-child dwelling in a familial household, riddled with hormones and a gloomy past, laden with baggage, sociopathic tendencies and unable to form any sort of bond and yet he never left. I lived years without that bond. Years without feeling the need for the guidance and protection only a father could give. Some part of me missing that bond and loathing "daddy's girls" everywhere. But he's trying to leave me now...I survived nearly a lifetime without him and suddenly I 'm not ready.
I'm not ready.
I'm not ready.
Know that I never encourage him to use me as some kind of threat...some unholy boogie man that will get you if you don't help him right this very second. Because, "my daughter is a trauma nurse and she will know what you haven't done right." Know that when I come in and acknowledge that, ::sigh:: yes, I am a nurse and then talk a little shop with you, I am not trying to be in your business but show you that I understand what you are trying to accomplish and understand what you are dealing with on a day to day basis.
I am nothing without you and neither is he.
But he is my dad.
I am always reading posts like that and I thought it was time that I make my own!
To the nurses who are the nurse of the patient I have been assigned to for my clinicals on your floor...and even to those I had no direct dealings with your patient...
THANK YOU! THANK YOU! THANK YOU!
For taking the time to hunt me down and bringing me into a room where something was being done that I had never seen, or to perform a skill I had never done or even if I've done numerous times but thought I'd like another opportunity to hone my skill/perfection of it!
For listening to me when I give you info on the patient that just doesn't sit right with me.
For honestly taking into consideration my opinion or thoughts on something that should be done.
For treating me as an adult.
For letting me bounce ideas off of you..even if it were just the babbling of a 2nd yr student.
For answering my questions, albeit they might have been silly or odd.
For taking me under your wing and showing me ways to do things easier, more proficiently.
For speaking those kind words and the gently hug you gave me I had reached my breaking point when my instructor was in a foul mood and took it out on the closest person (unfortunatly that would be me).
For praising me for doing well, and giving me constructive criticism when I needed it.
For bringing me a cup of coffee when you say I was running out of steam.
For having my back when my instructor insisted I did not do something per hospital protocol and you knew I had.
and most especially for telling my instructor that you thought I was very bright, had so much potential and that you'd love to see me working the floor when I graduate in May!
Real caffeine addicts go for dark chocolate covering expresso beans. Wash it down with a cup of java and the world turns.
Google "tattoos unsanitary" and read away. Here is a link that came up, in fact: TATTOOS Deadly Little Secret
I have witnessed numerous nurses lately, while in the hospital/ER (different times) with my 24yo daughter who was the patient (giving birth, bacterial infection, etc...) and I was utterly shocked at the appearance of some nurses. Hair not being pulled back is one thing, but buckets of make-up and teased hair ala-Snooki while caring for patients? Some looked like they were going to a club -- and this was 10:00am! (And it was the head floor nurse with the Snooki bump!) Another had tattoos, some on her neck...it just all seemed so unsanitary and unprofessional to me. Is this the way things are now? I was pursuing nursing school, but have shifted to another allied health field. Maybe at 50 I'm just an old fogey? I thought hair pulled back was a standard sanitary requirement -- almost like food workers. No?
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