LawnMowerBear

I am in my second semester at a masters degree program. I have 3 kids ages 10, 8 and 2. My wife and family are very supportive but honestly this is the hardest thing I've ever done. I frequently want to quit. I have As and Bs and I enjoy clinical, but I always feel I'm on the verge of failing out of the program. We are always being reminded by our faculty how easy it is to fail out or be kicked out. My program has no qualms about losing students. The thing that keeps me going is that I don't want to quit on my good days; only on the bad ones. But I have so many bad days that it's difficult. Had a particularly stressful week this week. I am a grown man and I cried, twice! (At home, not at school or in the OR or anything.) I don't really have any encouragement to offer. But know that if being an SRNA is really really hard or stressful for you, then you are not alone. There are many of us out there.

Hey, so how did things turn out?

Seriously! Am I a Blue Devil or aren't I?!?

Man, I am with everyone here. I'm on pins and needles. Lucklily, I've been working two jobs for the past month and a half, so that's kept me pretty busy. Still, I cannot wait until next week!

BTW, my interviews went far better than I had expected. I believe I left a very good impression with my interviewers. Loved the warmth and openness of the staff, the wealth of information, and the ambience of the place. Very impressed with every aspect of my time there! Can't wait to hear if I'm in!

I arrived at Duke University School of Nursing about ten minutes early. I stopped in at reception to find out where the ABSN candidates were meeting, and when I arrived at the room, M, whom I'd met before, was greeting candidates by a table in the hall. She welcomed me warmly and told me to come on in, there is a catered breakfast, etc. I thanked her, excused myself and hurried quickly to the restroom. I entered a stall, locked the door, and then searched vainly for the next 20 seconds for a place to set my portfolio. During that time I heard someone come in, use the restroom, and wash his hands. As he was leaving, he coughed--a very feminine cough. Someone else came in and used the bathroom, and I noticed that everyone who had come in so far had entered a stall and sat down. I quickly peeked up over my stall and glanced around the room. It was as I feared. There were no urinals in this restroom. Just then someone entered the stall next to me, and around their feet fluttered a long, flowing, black dress. Instantly my heart started to race, and I could feel my face becoming hot and flushed. At this point I had two options. I could either bust out and play it up as an accident, which it really was, or I could wait until I had a clearing and bolt. I decided on the latter option and made myself as small as possible in the stall to avoid being descried through the seams in the partitions. An opening came when there was no one at the hand-washing station, and with the person still in the stall beside me, I flung my stall door open and all but ran to the exit. A woman was standing across the hall as I exited, and she looked at me with obvious bewilderment. I, clearly flustered and embarrassed, exclaimed, “I definitely went into the wrong restroom.” She tilted her head back and laughed, and a wave of relief washed over me. I was safe. I headed straight across to the men’s restroom and completed my original mission. A urinal had never looked so beautiful to me as it did then.

I'll be there tomorrow! Can't wait!