Uniform

It has just occurred to me that in able to be able to find  a connection with any of my colleagues, especially those on a different level, like doctors, junior or consultant and  the domestics for example, the easiest way is to find a common enemy or foible, which normally in our work environment I am unwilling or unable to explore. For example, being catty about the bosses, or politics or having a lapse in professionalism or grace. I don't carry any of those off well.

In fact most of my interaction with doctors on my ward lends much to be desired on all accounts. As my ward has four specialities of its own and another two or three that often overlap, as opposed to most wards that will have about one or two teams of doctors wandering about to get to know, it is impossible to know who anyone is. That's putting the fact that the junior doctors rotate every few months or so aside. So normally when I brazenly approach these rushed-off-their-feet doctors with my radically short scarecrow fringe and boldly new stylish glasses with wide eyes behind them and a manic grin below them, and instead of asking them 'Hi, how's your day going? What are your thoughts on this new research? My name's ... by the way. What's yours? Who are you working under? That must be a really interesting experience for you. As you're here, could I have a quick chat about your patients? Yes. Over tea? Great!..', its more of a 'HI! What team are you?! Which one? Team A or Team B?' and in response getting a mumble as they walk away leaving me to decipher the syllables they left me with trying to figure out whether or not I should run after them to inevitably get them to prescribe laxatives for my patients, which is what I seem to spend most of my interactions with doctors doing. Why is everyone constipated? Of all the conversations to have with those poor guys, however important bowel movements may well be, constipated patients and their corresponding bed numbers isn't one of them! It's like bowel bingo. Movicol for 18 please. Bi Daily Senna for 24 please. Laxido for the whole last bay, thanks.

Anyway, back to the heading. My uniform! I was pretty chuffed to be able to get my uniform in time to wash it at home before having to wear it. It's always a bit too well pressed, out of the pack and I quite like my left-in-the-machine-for five-hours look before I hang it out to dry. No ironing needed, in my eyes, for a non-stop twelve hour power walk. It would be like ironing your gym outfit; no real point in it.

I'm not sure if the effect my new uniform has had is self inflicted or is externally provided. People seem to be more willing to introduce themselves (apart from the junior doctors, never the junior doctors) and ask me about me. I seem to have been a bit invisible for some people as a student. I think I moved too fast for them to catch a glimpse maybe. I do have a new found confidence in my new attire though. More willing to assert my position. No longer 'just a student nurse'. 'I'm a new nurse here.' I have found myself saying. Letting people know to be kind but that I am competent. 

I actually seem to have caught the attention of one of the not-so-old consultants not long ago! I caught him watching me, probably with confusion and difficulty, if I'm perfectly honest, a couple of times. The next day he approached me and introduces himself! The whole three months of me being a student on this same ward I have not seen him talk to anyone! He always seems to do his rounds solo and quietly gives instructions if the nurse is around him or quickly writing brief notes before taking his dark and mysteriously mute face off the ward without eye contact. So I introduced myself back in confused over enthusiasm which I think probably came across as a little unhinged. On my presentation of the 'I'm a new nurse here.' he responded with the 'I had guessed.' in his deep smooth and awkwardly privately educated tones and proceeded to ask some information about a new patient of his who had come in over night, which I thank the spiritual entity surrounding the seasons, that I knew about! We then shared a joke about the patients sexuality; highly inappropriate, but like I say above; making connections!! And neither of us had met the ambiguously named patient which is where the confusion had come from, nothing subjective, I assure you. I'm thinking about winking at him next time I see him just for a laugh. Who knows where it could take me! Hah. I wish I could be that audacious.

How clever of me to come round full circle like that. I might make it into the mainstream media yet. I would love to have any feedback or comments you have, by the by you keen readers. 
Thanks for stopping by.

Week One

So much to get my head back around. Just remembering the daily routine for one thing. During a CBT (cognitive behavioural therapy) workshop I signed myself up to for stress management I decided to write down the basic structure of my day based about the handovers, drug rounds, clinical observations and meal times I have to work between. I add to it whatever needs to be remembered throughout the day specifically for my patients.I printed out a few sheets of these so I can have a fresh copy everyday to keep me on track and on top. Most importantly it keeps me 'out of my head'. 
This is a phrase I have found myself using a lot this past year. It means that when my thoughts are running around in my head non-stop just repeating themselves completely uselessly I can stop and find a way to concentrate on what I'm meant to actually be doing. Not on what my brain wants me to be concentrating on, and getting lost in unhelpful thoughts.
Being able to pull this wondrous piece of blue paper out of my pocket to see what, if anything I have missed is a great way to keep me focused on getting through the day and doing the absolute best by my patients. 

Not that I'm meant to be having my own patients yet! I'm Supernumerary for two weeks on my ward before getting the real deal loaded on. That means I don't have soul care for any patients and if I wasn't there they would be able to manage fine without me as I'm not counted as one of the staff numbers. This, of course, in the NHS understaffed and strictly budgeted wards, hasn't been completely successful. No complaints here though. I'm going to be having to cope with at least seven patients all on my own in a fortnights time and I have to start somewhere.

Saying that, it was only on the last day of my first week it was like that. Day one and two I got to work with a fantastic nurse. She is a little old school and thinking of retirement but by no means does that mean she is not cut out for this work anymore. She is quicker and slicker than anyone I've met throughout my training. I have a feeling I might be referring to her a little more along the way so I shall call her Finny. By the time I have written the doctors instructions on my beautiful blue to do list, told the patient what I'm going to do and collected together the equipment I need Finny has told me the job has been done! She tells me I should let her know if I want to do something but it seems I can't get the words out quick enough. And for those of you that know me should know that that's not normally a problem for me!

Day three, Finny is not in but I am partnered up with another lovely nurse, however she, let's call her Indie, is very quiet, a massive push over and very apprehensive when being confronted by anyone in anyway. Some of this is cultural, and she is also very new to the hospital environment. Indie is very experienced but left her training and went straight into a nursing home role which  is a million miles away from and so much more confined than our extremely busy and multi disciplined ward. I love working with Indie as we quietly get on quite well as a team and look after each other and our patients in a similar way. However, as the luck of the draw would have it I ended up heaving tears out of my chest all the way home after experiencing a callous and brash agency nurse brush off the wails of pain from her young patient. Having to intervene at the neglect of my own patients made me really uncomfortable in so many ways. As much as I see pain and suffering on a daily basis, walking out of the room whilst an incapacitated, nion teen, is in so much discomfort, mentally and physically, is not something I could do. And hope I never can. Talking about pulling those heart strings!! So I stayed an extra hour to ensure the needs of my patients had all been met whilst this woman sauntered off early with a brief 'thank you' to me for my help in telling her how to do her job despite her having been around a good twenty years more than me. All in a days work for an opinionated and assertive fecund.

Like I said, learning that I can't change others will be a challenge for me. My first experience of this didn't go smoothly, but I will draw on this and remember that I am doing right and good by the patients whether they are under my direct care that day or not. I am, as all nurses should be, an advocate for the ill, sidelined and impaired. I can do no more. Another thing that is very uncomfortable for me is that she has told me to mark the day as she says I'll be a great nurse and go very far, even to manager, if I wanted. Maybe she see the compassion she lacks, in me? Is that a good thing? To be liked and admired by the lazy and contemptible? I know I'm being too harsh on this woman but the way the reacted in that moment has changed the way I will look upon her experience from here on out.

The wispiness and birdnestiness of my hair seems to be progressively synonymous with the busier or later on in the day it gets. I don't have regular access to mirrors as the ones we do have dotted around are genuinely at the height of my torso and I don't have the instinct to check I'm in a suitable state for viewing to the public. My hair is usually doing its to best to get out of the hair band I tie around it in a bid to get it out of my face and the slow developing film of grease on my face that forms progressively through the day is persistent! You need Mr Muscle involved to remove that build up. Which means my glasses are usually halfway down my nose is I'm doing anything but standing stock still with my nose slightly stuck up in the air. This position unnerves me so I tend never to be doing it... However the unwelcome glances of myself I do get as the winter nights creeps in reflected back at me from the giant windows surrounded the ward always make me smile in despair. I'm pretty sure none of the socially awkward and malnourished junior doctors will ever fall for this. I usually find their ties unsettling anyway...

I think this is probably enough for your little eyes to hover over for now. I have written only one thing from the list of ideas I had to fill this post, but I'm sure I'll get round to mentioning them along the way.

First things first

I am a newly qualified nurse. However, the journey for me to get from my first day of university in a big new city to being churned out the other end, ready to tackle any plight that came my way, was a bit longer than most. To begin with I was as strong and determined as anyone else. Unbreakable and willing to chuck myself into any situation that arose, especially those that others might even avoid. As we all know, bravery and foolishness come very close together, but I learnt something positive from every experience and I was resolute to let nothing stop me continuing in this way.

Then life got in the way, as it so often happens when you're gliding along nicely with nothing in your way. It's always there to remind you that nothing is easy if you want it to be. My pathetically weak ankles that I inherited from my parental side decided that enough was enough. They were to be used no more! Well, the tendons of the left one thought so, at least. The little tunnel that holds them all in place and allows the foot to move around in its normal fashion ruptured open, allowing my tendons to go where they liked and do as they please. Most inconvenient for someone who like to use my feet, and quite frequently too!

This lead to eventually having to take a year out of studying and watching all of my friend go ahead and graduate without me. But, nothing can stop me, right?!

Wrong.

I took a very very very long time, mostly due to denial and avoidance, to realise that I was suffering. Hard. And my pasted on smiles began to crack a little. Most of the people I had around me at the time, especially those I lived with at the start, were fantastic. But eventually I realised I wasn't right and I wasn't going to be unless I did something. Ignoring this was not going to make it go away.

In conversation, depending on my mood and my audience I will refer to this as me having a mental or anxiety 'wobbles' or 'hiccoughs' or the hard hitting 'complete mental breakdown' with 'anxiety attacks'.

It's easier to use the latter term when I'm brushing it off with a self deprecating joke and fleeting laugh. I am quite open about what I went through as I know I'm not the only one, but people are still reluctant to share as they don't know how the people around them will react, and I'm conscious of who I'm letting myself be exposed to.

So, to bring this post to an end, I am finally starting to feel better and a more myself, although coming to terms with the fact that I think, inside I have fundamentally changed and won't ever be as untouchable as I was as a naive, hopeful, and pretty clueless 20 year old is really really hard, however, going onto the ward for the first time is proving a massive challenge and can sometimes bring up difficult issues for myself when coming into contact with so many different people who all have so many different roles within my life, be it a patient, nurse, doctor, therapists, patients' relatives, or my own family and friends. 

I feel that learning how to cope with those who want to go against me in whatever direction I am feeling my way through this time will be the biggest mountain that I have to climb.

I want to share my stories. They will be funny! I can't help but get myself into bizarre and wonderful situations. I blame my chubby cheeks and unwilling to let my honest and open guard down. Try as I might I am awful at lying, even if it'll save me half an hour of awkward conversations with a 50 year old men who want to buy me perfume!
These stories may be sombre at times but I generally avoid that in my writing. 

Primarily this is an outlet for the struggles and successes I will achieve in the war zone that is an NHS hospital ward in a time of unsupportive austerity and unwilling change.

This is Nurse Bloomers reporting for duty. Deep breath. Here goes!!!