Wildcat2009

Jos, We have similar stats. I think you'll be okay. Positive thinking

Where are you all from? I'm from ohio. Hoping my letter takes longer

Group is titled "University of Toledo Graduate CNL Class of 2016"

Columbus

friend me on facebook. Patrick McGrady

I guess I need one more person to start a group on facebook?

As I understood it, he told me that it was a year full of classes and another year of clinical experience. So 1 year in the classroom and another in the field.

I am going to commit. I have also inquired about the NP route. It is one year of class work plus a ton of clinical hours. I think we should start a Facebook group for those accepted and intending to enroll. If I have time I will try to do it tonight

My online status says I've been accepted even though I haven't received anything in the mail.

"I'm in nursing school...if I want to know the time, it better be quick and digital. Analogue is for vitals."

no interviews this year

I just spoke to ***** the graduate nursing advisor and he said it is going to be April 1st until decisions come back. There were like 63 aplicants. So I guess it is 50 percent chance.

My girlfriend is a doctor. I am but a lowly student murse. This is my confession: My admission of guilt that no matter how progressive I am, I still have an inferiority complex. Friends ask, "Why would you want to go to nursing school?" You'll never be a billionaire or even a millionaire." For some, my girlfriend included, nursing is a path chosen for those not capable of the rigors of 4 years of medical school. Just imagine the parties I've been to surrounded by her doctor friends trying to keep a straight face when I tell them my ambition is to be a male nurse. I'd like to go into monkey mode, fling poop and fire insults. "Oh, you're an orthopedic surgeon? Too bad you're ugly and smell like rotten pistachios... I'm sorry. I'm not even sure what that means. Here's the deal: I genuinely believe in the nursing model. Nurses have the ability to heal in ways that doctors will never understand. To connect with patients and learn about yourself and your limits as a caregiver. To stare a frightened patient in the eyes and help them find peace in death. Maybe, just maybe i can learn to find courage and grace in the face of death, too. To my friends: lawyers,doctors, bankers, venture capitalists. I doubt your career allows you to feel the full range of emotions that nurses battle and embrace. From existential crises to manic jubilation at unexpected patient outcomes. I didn't mess up. I didn't fail. Actually, I'm right where I want to be. Oh! But she's wonderful! Smart and caring, beautiful and bold. She says what she means and I love her for that. Oh dear God, I love her.

My girlfriend is a doctor. I am but a lowly student murse. This is my confession: My admission of guilt that no matter how progressive I am, I still have an inferiority complex. Friends ask, "Why would you want to go to nursing school?" You'll never be a billionaire or even a millionaire." For some, my girlfriend included, nursing is a path chosen for those not capable of the rigors of 4 years of medical school. Just imagine the parties I've been to surrounded by her doctor friends trying to keep a straight face when I tell them my ambition is to be a male nurse. I'd like to go into monkey mode, fling poop and fire insults. "Oh, you're an orthopedic surgeon? Too bad you're ugly and smell like rotten pistachios... I'm sorry. I'm not even sure what that means. Here's the deal: I genuinely believe in the nursing model. Nurses have the ability to heal in ways that doctors will never understand. To connect with patients and learn about yourself and your limits as a caregiver. To stare a frightened patient in the eyes and help them find peace in death. Maybe, just maybe i can learn to find courage and grace in the face of death, too. To my friends: lawyers,doctors, bankers, venture capitalists. I doubt your career allows you to feel the full range of emotions that nurses battle and embrace. From existential crises to manic jubilation at unexpected patient outcomes. I didn't mess up. I didn't fail. Actually, I'm right where I want to be. Oh! But she's wonderful! Smart and caring, beautiful and bold. She says what she means and I love her for that. Oh dear God, I love her.

The fact that you and I are the only ones on the site makes me feel better :) My prerequisite gpa is a 3.7 but my undergrad is just above a 3.0. I think I Got a 155 in verbal section and did poorly in math because I hadn't taken a math course since high school. Maybe a 135? Then I got a 4.0 in writing. I think I did okay on my essay. I have traveled a lot and done some pretty cool things since I graduated from undergrad in 2009. Hoping diverse experience will be a plus. What about you?

Yes. Anxious to hear!!

Thanks for reading!

Are you from Venezuela? In what capacity were you there?

I applied to this program. Anyone find out yet?

Binky16 im operating under the assumption that it is easier for them to know who they don't want than narrowing it down to who they do want.

I'm under the impression that if I hear from Ucla in the next couple of days it will be a rejection. Trying to be patient

Maintaining Perspective San Francisco de la Paz is a small town east of Tegucigalpa, Honduras. During the day it masquerades as a quiet community devoted to religion and agriculture. On good nights, the gunfire is but a soundtrack to adventure; far in the distance like corn kernels burning over an open flame. Other nights, the gunfire is so close that it consumes your every thought and move. The morning after a fight, expelled bullet shells could be found just outside my window. The drug runners are nocturnal and sleep most of the day. Were it not for the lone day-guard across the street with a machine gun, I may have thought the gunfire was only a bad dream. Talk of the violence was rare at the school. Honduran teachers whispered quietly of murder for fear that I may overhear, feel unsafe and pack my bags and abandon the English program. On a hot February afternoon I walked aimlessly home from school reflecting on an unusually productive day of teaching. It was as if the students could sense my frustration in their lack of progress. Taking pity on my restless soul they decided to give me one day of focus to make up for a month of lackluster learning. As I approached the empty lot on my left, I noticed a set of eyes which normally would be fixed on the gringo walking home from school; however that day they remained fixed on the empty lot and a figure under a large piece of scrap cardboard. It wasn't until I was parallel to the figure that I noticed the blood pooling on one end and a mess of hair sticking out just far enough to be recognizable as a man's head. In a rare event, a man had been murdered just a few meters from his house in broad daylight. They shot him several times and took the liberty of plucking his eyes from his skull, maybe a symbolic gesture to remind the rest of town to forget what they see. In the morning Lydia and Miguel, brother and sister, were absent from school. It was their father that was murdered and dismembered in front of their house and within eyesight of their mother. That was the second funeral I had ever attended, but for Lydia and Miguel it would no doubt be one of many funerals they would attend in their lifetime. There was no ambulance that day. The police didn't even show up to file a report for fear that they would be next. Their uncle would be the one to collect the body and ensure that it received a proper burial. Emergency medicine is obsolete in the rural Third World. Even if they could afford to run an ambulance, the nearest hospital is 4 hours away. I fell in love with emergency medicine in Honduras, but I wouldn't realize it until I received a phone call just months after returning from Honduras. Luis Cardona, a teacher at the school, had been struck while riding his motorcycle. Although alive after impact, Luis was left on the side of the road while cars sped past too afraid to stop. After several hours Luis bled out. When the family finally noticed his absence and got word of the accident they arrived to the scene to find him dead. I will always remember Luis the day he bought that red motorcycle and the freedom and youth he exuded as he sped away each day after school. He was truly beautiful and free in those moments. Timeless Like a picture or sculpture he remains captured within my memory. As I learn each day in nursing school about the fragility of the human body I also am reminded of its resilience. I am reminded of all that a well trained professional can accomplish in the field. On especially hard days filled with petty, minute problems I try to regain prospective and be thankful that I am fortunate enough to have modern medicine at my fingertips and have the ability to solve big problems on a daily basis. Life, and the ability to save a life, is precious.