I'm out of ideas today. So good-bye.
Not really. I am tired and trying to get back the thread I picked about a month ago, now. I wrote about my dad earlier this week, (tomorrow is Father's Day) although I could pay tribute to my dad, all the time.
I watched All the President's Men, about a month ago when I started exploring my teen years and the decision to be a nurse. I wanted to hear all of Robert Redford's commentary before I wrote. Then I never finished it and Katie mailed it back to Netflix. Aw, research aborted.
The doggedness of the two men with the bone in their mouths impressed me. Observing how young Robert Redford and Dustin Hoffman were reminded me why I had problems concentrating on the movie when I was young. I did yearn for the investigative reporting, but knew I didn't have the guts to put my life on the line for a story. Would I let a story lie? Or would I keep digging and digging? Seventeen, I don't think I knew or had the heart for that.
Finally, being a home health nurse allowed time to be a detective. Nursing also requires the digging below the surface. Dad had that nose about Mom's health when she had cancer. He sat observing her during her first round of I-131 radiation therapy, "She's not moving like she should."
Seasoned senior nursing student, I, replied, "Well, Dad, she had back to back surgeries within a week and just finished treatment. It has been a rough six weeks."
He refused that answer, "No, there is something else."
Thank God, the doctor, who had some issues, did listen to my dad. He ordered a myelogram of Mom's spine, revealing a tumor on the spine. I admired Dad even more. I thought if Dad weren't sixty, he could go to nursing school. He should be a nurse. Later that year, he would read the free RN copies I got that year.
I developed that sixth sense about patients "going south" as we say. Some doctors listened to that "gut" feeling. Some did not. Even in nursing school, I didn't brag because it scared me in a way, but I could tell when a person would make it through a code or not. We coded everyone when I worked in ER. I tried to over-ride those feelings because everyone needed our best in a code. Yet, one look and I knew.
This is more than studying, more than knowledge, although, that is very important. An inner voice that must be heard and powers of observation lead to decisions. A nurse and a journalist follow very similar paths. Nurses chart precisely with no time for proof reading. My love for writing helped with nursing.
Life prepares us for our careers. Careers form our life. As much as nursing seemed the easy decision when I was in high school, not necessarily my heart decision, I am a nurse. I have stuck with it through thick and thin, highs and mostly lows. I am proud to have never quit. The writing at this time of my life as more of a career seems to be in a plan that my high school years equipped me.