I'm straight out of school. The ink is barely dry on my nursing license. I'd worked on our Inpatient Onc floor for a year as a CNA while I finished my RN program, and I was hired straight in as a floor RN before graduation. Both my parents has been patients on that floor and had passed away there. I thought I knew everything that was coming. I thought being a RN would be an easy transition.
Sweet Jesus on a cracker, was I wrong.
Now, two and a half measly months after getting RN after my name, I'm struggling. Professionally? No problem. I've received many many compliments on my work ethic and quickness.
Personally? I'm a freaking mess. I'm scared, I've had a hard time dealing with all the deaths lately, my relationship with my husband is starting to suffer. And it can all be summed up in one brief statement: "How do I walk out that door and be able to let go of all the stress, the pain, and the grief?"
I'm realizing I'm not a machine. I feel. A lot, apparently. This is a reoccurring problem on our floor. We get attached, and then we have to go through the mourning process over and over and over.
Where do I go from here?
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I'm straight out of school. The ink is barely dry on my nursing license. I'd worked on our Inpatient Onc floor for a year as a CNA while I finished my RN program, and I was hired straight in as a floor RN before graduation. Both my parents has been patients on that floor and had passed away there. I thought I knew everything that was coming. I thought being a RN would be an easy transition.
Sweet Jesus on a cracker, was I wrong.
Now, two and a half measly months after getting RN after my name, I'm struggling. Professionally? No problem. I've received many many compliments on my work ethic and quickness.
Personally? I'm a freaking mess. I'm scared, I've had a hard time dealing with all the deaths lately, my relationship with my husband is starting to suffer. And it can all be summed up in one brief statement: "How do I walk out that door and be able to let go of all the stress, the pain, and the grief?"
I'm realizing I'm not a machine. I feel. A lot, apparently. This is a reoccurring problem on our floor. We get attached, and then we have to go through the mourning process over and over and over.
Where do I go from here?