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Joined Apr 16, '12. Posts: 20 (15% Liked) Likes: 4

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  • Oct 14 '12

    If you are interested in those areas you might want to pick the hospital you really want to work in and apply for a med-surg position then after maybe one year you can transfer to one of those areas when a position opens up. It's easier to get into a specialty area like that once you are already working in the facility, you have more networks open to you. Recruiters are more likely to hire into med-surg when you don't have hospital experience. Good luck!

  • Sep 16 '12

    Quote from GilbertDaddy
    Wow, that sounds crazy! I like my "only man on a beach full of women" metaphor even better now

    Do you two ladies find that it's the younger girls that get in trouble the most or is it pretty spread out?

    .

    YES! I am 35 and have been married almost 17 years of that 35. I notice that the younguns' between 20-25 are the "throat cutters." This age group seems to be more emotional and more apt to let air out of someones tires so they won't make it to clinicals, yes that happened a few weeks ago. It is the whole if I can't have him no one in the class will mentality and the pot gets so stirred they cannot see they are screwing up their nursing career for what? Now, I have seen some pretty lame older ladies act 15 when it comes to being jealous but these younger girls fight with their claws out. The guy I mentioned above, his latest "victim", girl numb 3 or 4 had her nursing books mysteriously disappear during lunch break, mind you our books cost us almost 800 for this semester, only to have the janitor come with a rolling trash can with the bag inside and some foreign sticky, wet, nasty, stuff dumped in mass amounts onto those books. All hell broke loose. Of course now the WHOLE class is in on the drama that is unfolding, takes almost 2 hours from class trying to figure out who dun it. We women can be the most loving, kind, wonderful people, but we can be the most vindictive, nasty, mean, bad for business people you ever wanna be on the bad side of.

    BEST advice, date someone OUTSIDE your class. Leave the drama for the soap operas on TV.

  • Sep 16 '12

    I was thinking about this a lot. At first I always joked about getting that kind of attention. I'm a younger guy, keep in shape, and all that.

    But then I realized that in all honesty, I'll likely be taking mostly part time or online classes due to my hectic schedule. It could be a good year before I even see another face aside from exam time lol.

    But I do agree about the drama issue. With wanting to go past the BSN and hopefully into CRNA-land one day, GPA is of the utmost importance. Being a single father of 2 means I'm already busy after work - study time is already at a minimum.

    I'm sure I'll love the attention because working and parenting alone is tough and it means I can never get out and have a social life (I don't trust babysitters). But I'll have to make sure to cut it off at the minor ego boost. Too much of my future lies on the line

    If it's understood that I have no time or interest in relationships, I imagine I might let something slide, but that's a slippery slope.

    I joke about my situation being like a man trapped on a desert island somewhere with a dozen beautiful women and I've got a winning lottery ticket at home waiting for me. Yes the girls would be distracting and tempting, but women don't share men very well (the term "catfight" came to be for a reason), and as pretty as they were.. I'd want that lottery payout much more.

    In other words - short term vs long term goals. I do love a pretty woman, but a lifestyle of relaxation and recreation is my goal. To allow myself to get sidetracked would only be a disservice to myself and an insult to my kids for the time they sacrificed with their dad so that he could go to school in the first place

  • Sep 16 '12

    If NICU were so easy, everyone would do it. I couldn't handle taking care of unhealthy infants. It would break my heart. In addition, having to be extremely cautious with even the amount of a saline flush would be unreal. I have utmost respect for all the NICU nurses out there.

  • Sep 16 '12

    As a nursing student, you have to pay close attention to your budget. Things can add up really fast.

    I've heard of some students borrowing scrubs and stethoscopes just to get by. There's nothing wrong with that - you must do what you have to do.

    Was there ever a time when you just said 'no way - not that'?

    Do you have any tips on how to save money?



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  • Sep 13 '12

    I worked as a nurse's aide at 16, and since you are working under the supervision of licensed nurses (just as aides do), I think they are panicing prematurely. Students aren't licensed after all. You may not be able to take the NCLEX until 18, which you should be around the time you graduate.

    Don't withdraw! If they force you out you have something to argue to financial aide with; you were taking and passing the classes. Are you emancipated? If so, different rules may apply. I wonder if your school is worrying about insurance?


    One of the first things I would do, is contact your state board of nursing, and get an official answer about minors in nursing school.

  • Sep 13 '12

    The Bureau of Labor Statistics reports employment among Registered Nurses will grow faster than the average for all occupations through 2018. They also report that large metropolitan cities such as New York, Philadelphia, Los Angeles, Houston, Phoenix, etc will be hiring the most nursing jobs.

    According to PayScale, new Registered Nurses (RNs) earn between $30,233 - $63,540 per year (2012). That's not bad compared to other professions.

    How do you feel about your salary compared to other professions?



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  • Sep 10 '12

    Lol, okay I should definitely have said that my ACTUAL #1 thing to go is reading for pleasure. I normally read TONS - when a heavy-duty semester isn't in session. I miss reading, but I just do it in between semesters, at least until nursing school is over.... I would normally read for 2-3 hours a night in bed, but there just isn't extra time.

    In case anyone is interested (I know you weren't asking me, but I had to answer!) I tend to read paranormal romance and vampire books - anything with a good storyline & good characters and it's got to be LONG with lots of books in the series.

    Anita Blake series
    Sookie Stackhouse series (Trueblood on HBO)
    LOVED the Harry Potter series (all time favorite)
    LOVED the Twilight series
    I liked the story the 50 Shades series told, sex was a little excessive but it was a quick, easy & enjoyable read.
    The House of Night series
    The Host was an awesome book (I normally don't do stand alone books, but it was a big one and so worth it)
    The Vampire Diaries series
    The Kat & Bones books (night huntress series I think)
    The Vampire Academy Books
    Blue Books series
    Cirque de Freak series
    Evernight series
    Immortals series
    The Secret Circle series
    The Dexter series (Dexter on Showtime)
    Kay Scarpetta series (it's really went downhill in recent years though)

    I could go on and on....my BFF and I share books and we tend to read the same things at the same time. I'm married (almost 13 years) with 2 kiddos and she's married with 1 on the way.

  • Sep 10 '12

    Quote from garciamnic
    Kudos to you! I am also married with 3 kids and plan to keep my life as normal as I can. What classes are you taking? oh and what do you read for pleasure? I love to read too.
    I'm taking:
    Fundamentals of Nursing - Lecture
    Fundamentals of Nursing - Lab
    Med-Surg I - Lecture
    Med-Surg I - Lab
    Introduction to Pharmacology
    Med-Surg I Clinical

    I read tons of different things. Fiction, erotica, classics, chick lit. If it holds my interest I read it.

  • Sep 10 '12

    So far,
    1. Friends
    2. Looking pretty (scrubs, ponytail and no makeup at this point)
    3. Shopping (grocery store is now once every 10 days or so and no other shopping at all)
    4. Housework
    5. Private hubby time (gotta figure out how to fix this one)

  • Aug 30 '12

    Quote from lonestar9918

    I am a believer in categories of friends - there are work friends, school friends, neighbors, etc. - What I share and do with each group may vary greatly.
    Well said!

  • Aug 30 '12

    Quote from QuarterLife88
    This thread reminded me of something: Sometimes on the first day, (even in college, sadly), instructors have you go around and introduce yourself to the entire class and tell your whole life story. Am I the only one that despises this practice? It wastes time, and if I or anyone else cared to get to know someone that badly, we would go up to them on our own time and ask! It just seems like something that should have been left in grade school.

    This also includes the first clinical day when an instructor makes us go around and state to everyone in the group why we want to be a nurse. It's so cheesy and I have approximately 5 sec to make up some Hallmark sounding b.s. It feels horribly fake. Does it matter why I'm there as long as I do my job?
    I hate when teachers ask you to do this. It grinds my gears.

  • Aug 30 '12

    Not really. One of my classmates and I have become really good friends, we actually took a mini-vacation together over the summer and we'll probably go out of town to celebrate graduating in December. Quite frankly, I don't care what anyone else thinks of me or if they get jealous about something in my life, like the fact that my grandparents pay all of my tuition.

  • Aug 28 '12

    It was a story I'd seen before: 19-year-old airman, T-cell lymphoma, air evac'd from overseas after a plethora of symptoms led to the discovery of his cancer .I headed boldly into the room, my orientee close behind me. A young black male, no older than my younger brother, sat in bed, large headphones on his ears. A teenaged boy slept on the couch. Both of them looked up as I entered the room with suspicion in their eyes.

    I introduced myself. I asked about his pain. His voice was quiet, his eyes avoiding mine, his body language closed. As I assessed him, listened to his heart, listened to his lungs, checked his pulses and asked him questions, he muttered his replies, his eyes flickering downward toward the white sheets on his bed. He was distant in his answers, as though replying from somewhere out of his body.

    Unruffled, I reminded him of his NPO status for his pending bone marrow biopsy that morning and headed back to the computer to chart. Poor kid, I thought. He's clearly afraid. I showed my orientee how to chart the assessment, put in the vitals, and together, we continued on our way.

    An hour or so later, the physicians called. They were ready for the bone marrow biopsy. My orientee and I premedicated the patient for the procedure, took our time with answering his questions and put him in the hands of the oncology fellow, a short, bubbly lady physician who was only too happy to answer his questions and hold his hand. My orientee and I returned to our other patients.

    An hour later, he returned to the floor. He was just in time to order breakfast. I gave him the menu and he called downstairs for his food as I stood next to the bed. Once again, we asked him if we could get him anything, and upon his denial, we encouraged him to call and headed on our way.

    Forty-five minutes passed. We returned to the room to see him and he had no tray. I called downstairs to order; the kitchen had closed. No more diet techs were leaving for the wards for food delivery. My 19-year-old bottomless pit would have to suffer through the next hour and a half on an empty stomach, all because the diet techs were too lazy to bring up his tray.

    This was not right. My orientee once more on my heels, I took to the elevators, the two of us storming the galley. I was frustrated and outraged on behalf of my patient. As we entered the galley, two young enlisted sailors met us at the door, ready to deny us entrance. I don't know if it was the determination in my eyes or the fire in my tongue that convinced them to open the doors to the food prep area, but there we were, donning hairnets and traveling through the forbidden bowels of the basement.

    The sailors took me to their civilians counterparts, the phone-answering folks and those responsible for assesmbling and dispatching the trays to the inpatient wards.

    "Ma'am, the kitchen is closed." A civilian was barreling my way, her tone haughty.
    "My patient didn't get his tray. I'm here to get it for him." I said, turning to face my opposition.
    "I'm sorry, ma'am, the kitchen is closed." She insisted.
    I squared off. "And I'm sorry, ma'am, but I'm not leaving until I get his food. You still have food out in the prep area. I'll put the tray together myself. But understand this--I'm not leaving without his food." I replied evenly.
    Her eyes darted from my face to my rank. I was just another second lieutenant at the time, one of hundreds at the command, but apparently the gold bar was enough to convince her that I'd take the matter higher if it wasn't dealt with immediately.

    "All right." She conceded. Within ten minutes, we were on our way back upstairs with our hard-earned tray.

    My orientee brought him the tray, presenting it like the trophy it was. He barely looked at us, murmured a thank-you as we left his room, both of us admittedly disappointed at his response to our heroic efforts.

    A half hour later, his call bell rang and we returned to his room. The pain from the biopsy was intense, much more intense than I'd seen in any patient before. I got an order for breakthrough pain meds, overrode the order in the Pyxis and began to push his morphine.

    As I delivered the dose, he began to whimper, suddenly asking me to stop.
    "What's wrong?" I asked.
    "It burns!" He exclaimed through tears.

    I felt irritation flash through my chest. Here I was bending over backward for this kid, charging the kitchen and fighting with the pyxis and putting on my happiest face, and he was complaining about the pain meds he had just been crying for? I choked back my frustration and flushed the line, the pain abating instantly as the saline replaced the narcotic.

    At the desk, I explained what had happened to our intern, who rolled his eyes. "Fine. Percocet. It's not nearly as strong or as fast-acting, but if he can't take the IV narcs, it's the best I've got."

    I returned to the room, provided the once again overridden med, and left the room after making sure he was all right. Not so much as a thank-you followed me to the nurse's station.

    For the sake of my orientee and my pride, I held it together. On the surface, I was frustrated with his lack of response to my compassion. I was irritated by his apparently impervious take to my Herculean effort to make him comfortable. What I wouldn't realize until much later is that I was really just afraid.

    The shift continued similarly. I did my best to reassure him, to calm him, to sit with him, but he wanted none of my empathy. When his mother arrived, he collapsed onto her chest, and I was relieved that he finally had someone who he trusted to fall against. But the frustration I had felt earlier still grated against me and against my genuine efforts to secure a good rapport.

    The next day, I had him back. All day, I medicated not his pain, not his physical body, but his fear. With incredibly diluted IV pushes of dilaudid, I realized that I numbed his mind from the reality of his physical state and induced the sleep that spared him from the mental agony of his cancer.

    My coworkers, nurses and doctors alike who were familiar with the situation, sighed in a similar frustration. When was this airman going to man up? When was he going to accept this diagnosis and snap out of it? We aired our grievances privately to each other, and I though I knew full well that what we were witnessing was simply the ineffective coping mechanisms of a patient who was not yet truly an adult, his inability to accept our kindness and his own disease still poked at me like a thorn in the side. Perhaps I'm becoming too jaded, I told myself. Perhaps it's time for me to get out of oncology.

    Weeks later, he returned to our ward. He was early for his chemo admission, still withdrawn and difficult to illicit even the most basic responses from. It was as though he had regressed to his early teenaged years under the stress of his disease. He was not my patient, but when he reacted to his blood transfusion on the weekend, I, as charge nurse, assisted his primary nurse and my good friend in collecting the necessary samples and setting up the IV fluids that were warranted. He was just as I remembered him from before: a quiet, whimpering little brother, afraid, alone now that his mother was 500 miles away, and painfully withdrawn.

    But this time, I recognized the emotion that hid behind the veil of my old frustration. It had been fear. I was afraid that, as a nurse, my care was ineffective and inadequate to soothe his fears. I was afraid that I didn't have the emotional capacity to calm him. I was afraid that if I were to find a way to reassure him, I'd lose the bubble that insulated me from the cruel reality of my patients' often grim conditions.

    It was fortuitous that I had the weekend to consider these facts, because today, Little Brother returned from the PICU to our ward. Despite my hesitation to take him as my patient, all the other nurses were busy. His care fell to me. I prepared myself emotionally for the long haul.

    I was exiting another room when I saw the PICU nurses in their maroon scrubs returning down the hall with an empty wheelchair. I got a quick follow-up report, bid them farewell and met my tech outside the room. We entered together, fully ready to continue cajoling this adolescent-like young adult into cooperating with our care.

    To my shock, he sat up on the bed, fully emerged from his blanket-like cocoon, and he smiled as we entered.

    "Good afternoon. How are you feeling?" I asked him.

    He looked me square in the eye. "Much better, mam." He replied.

    I almost fell squarely on my fifth point of contact. He spoke! "Any pain today? Any nausea?" I asked.

    He shook his head. "Nope. I've been able to eat now and keep it down for a day or so."

    And on went the discussion. I set up his IV antibiotics, explained what they were, and as I did so, he talked. We found that we both had very particular taste in water of all things. While he preferred bottled, I was staunchly in favor of tap. He told me about a girl on facebook who had friended him. "Do you ever have it happen where you see someone and you know you've met them before, but you don't remember when?" He asked. "It's awful, isn't it?" I empathized. "Oh, it's terrible!" He exclaimed. He told me about how things were going outpatient, about how he missed his mom, about how he was glad to be back on our floor because he had been lonely in the PICU.

    I listened and nodded, interjected my opinion when it seemed warranted, and eventually, as I programmed the pump for his vancomycin, he asked me a question.

    "How do you do this?" He asked, his tone suddenly serious.

    I stopped my work and made eye contact with him. "What do you mean?"

    "I mean this." He said, looking around. "How do you work with people who have cancer and diagnoses like this all day?"

    I sighed. It was a question I'd been asking myself a lot, lately. "Well, I guess practically speaking, people are going to get sick. I figure they'll get sick whether I'm there to help them or not, so I'd rather be there and have a chance at making it better than just giving up." I said.

    He nodded, visibly chewing on my words.

    I continued. "As for patients--I guess I can't really come at it from that angle. I know it's got to be difficult to be young and have cancer, especially when you were in such good physical shape before. I have a friend who survived leukemia and he told me he had similar struggles, but y'know, he's healthy now. He's been in remission for a few years. It's not like this diagnosis is a death sentence."

    He nodded, his eyes flickering with the thinly veiled hope in my words. "I just hope it doesn't come back."

    I wanted to tell him it wouldn't, but I knew better than to make promises. So I nodded in return. "Me, too."

    "I was so angry when I found out I had cancer. I mean, why me? Why am I the one who gets this at nineteen?" He said. "It's just not fair."

    I was amazed at what I was hearing. To listen to him discussing what he had been feeling and what he had been through was therapeutic to be certain--for him and for me.

    "No, it's not." I agreed.

    "I guess I'm just coming to terms with it now. I didn't realize I could be depressed and angry." He told me.

    "Acceptance usually comes after going through many stages, and not always just once. It's not quite as tangible or definable as some people will have you believe, and it's very normal to go back and forth. Some days will be better than others." I reassured him.

    He nodded. "I'm just ready to get this chemo over with."

    The rest of the shift only improved. Every time I went to see him, I stuck around to talk. He made me laugh, I made him laugh, and eventually, I'd say goodbye and see him in the next hour only to repeat the previous interaction with different jokes and discussion topics. By the end of the day, I introduced the night nurse and said goodnight, genuinely looking forward to seeing him again.

    So tonight, I sit here to write about things that I know I must remember. The girl who graduated nursing school two years ago and found herself unwillingly placed on an oncology ward met me today. She shook me by the shoulders and reminded me that pain is often masked in anger and fear, that sarcasm and cynicism do not often improve patient outcomes, and that a little patience with the most difficult patient goes a long way. She reminded me of the longsuffering nature she had entered her field with, of how she could often see through the coping mechanisms that those more experienced and more calloused had lost the ability (or at least the willingness) to identify, and how she had hoped as a young nurse that she might never lose that talent when it came to understanding the pain of others, however masked or distorted.

    Tomorrow, the day will dawn new. And I'll return with the most knowledge, the most skill and more compassion than I've ever known to the care of Little Brother and countless others like him.

  • Aug 27 '12

    When it comes to you and your career, always look out for #1. This "being loyal" and "playing adult" nonsense is just that- when if the tables were turned you would be walked out and escorted to your car with nary a backwards glance.

    If you get offered the other job, I say go for it. It may be a small world, but it's also your world, and you need to to dominate it.


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