Little m Long a

My son, God bless him, has decided that our archaic and wasteful ways must come to an end.  He feels we have not been good stewards of our resources and has instituted some changes.

Him:  Dad, why don’t we recycle?

Is there ever an acceptable answer for not doing something that will benefit our household, our community or the environment?  Really?  Is because I’m a lazy slob going to cut the mustard here?  What about because our little village does not have a recycling program and we have to haul our recyclables 10 miles to the nearest drop off facility?  No, I’m pretty much stuck.

Me:  You’re absolutely right, Buddy.  We should recycle.

That’s all he needed to hear.  The very next time we took a trip to Lowe’s he was all over the task of selecting bins to start our recycling campaign.  We chose three basic plastic storage containers and he wasted no time labeling them.  Paper, Cans and Plastik.  It was official then.  We now recycle and he is the recycling sheriff.  His job is to police our family’s trash habits and see to it that the proper bins are used for our recycling.  My job is once the bins are full to haul the recyclables the 10 miles to the drop off facility.

One of us has not been doing their job.

Today is our regular trash day.  Would it be so wrong to leave it all at the corner and start over tomorrow?

I began my nursing career believing I had been fully prepared to handle anything that could be tossed in my direction.  Oh sure, there were departmental and hospital specific procedures and idiosyncrasies that are naturally a part of the learning curve.  But I had just graduated from one of the best nursing schools in the state and very highly ranked nationally.  I had been prepped, taught by the best.  I was ready.  Or so I thought.

You see, in nursing school they teach you how to treat injuries, how to heal wounds and infections, how to administer medicines and administer care that helps people get better.  What they didn’t tell me my was that sometimes, often times, the patients don’t get better, that despite my best efforts and most earnest attempts people sometimes die.  I wasn’t ready for this.  No one is ever ready for this.  They didn’t teach me about this.  Over time you develop ways and means to deal with the harsh realities but nothing ever seems sufficient.  A part of your very soul is left with every patient that leaves you.  It hurts.  The hurt lingers.  In some ways, it never leaves.  Countless nights I have come home from a difficult shift and hugged Zoë until she said quit.  Then I hugged her more.

I’m not sure if it is because I have been there, witness to the shock in a parent’s eyes when confronted with horrific news, or if because I am parent myself five times over, but I was moved recently by a post from Dan over at All That Comes With It.  You see, Dan has helped to organize a charity walk to take place this summer, 78 miles in six days.  It’s called the Dales Walk and will cover the length of the Dales Way in Yorkshire, England.  Proceeds from the walk are to benefit The Joseph Salmon Trust, a charity set up by Dan’s good friends Neil and Rachel in memory of their son, Joseph who was just three years old when he passed away suddenly and totally unexpectedly in his sleep due to complications from a streptococcal pneumonia. 

Through their experiences with such a devastating personal experience they have organized The Joseph Salmon Trust which aims to “support parents who have lost a child by providing financial assistance to those who need it most. This may be to help with funeral costs or to allow the self employed a break from work while they come to terms with their loss. Grieving families have enough to deal with without worries about where they will find the money to say goodbye to their child or pay the next electricity bill. Nothing we can do can make their situation better, but we can do something to stop it getting worse.”

Neil and Rachel have shown strength unimaginable after enduring what I can only imagine as being the worst experience that anyone would ever have to face.  They are extraordinary people, but I suppose I should expect nothing less from anyone whom Dan should call friend.  He’s a pretty good egg himself.  Although he could probably stand to lose a kilogram or two, but then again, who couldn’t.  The walking will surely help.  So what’s my point?  What can I do to help? you are most assuredly asking yourself by now. 

Easy. 

Give……..That’s it. 

Just Give.

Support Dan on his Dale’s Walk.  All sponsorship monies paid through him go directly to The Joseph Salmon Trust.  Expenses incurred during the six day trek are completely out of pocket for Dan.  I told you he was a good egg.  What’s in it for you?  I think Dan has some buttons and that warm feeling you get inside from knowing you did something good. 
 
           

Visit All That Comes With It and click on the button to the right to donate.  You can also follow the progress of the walk on a page Dan set up called oddly enough, The Dales Walk. 

 Dude, tell me about this nursing gig.  My exact words to my high school buddy, some ten years post graduation.  It had not been my first choice.  Or second for that matter.  Truth be told, it was probably not in the top ten but at the age of 28 and with my life in what can only be described as a state of transition, I needed options.  For different reasons, he too was experiencing a similar life transition and to my benefit, had done all of the necessary leg work in preparation for our next life journey. 

Chemistry.  Biology.  Anatomy.  Physiology.  Prerequisites as they are referred to in the course curriculum.  After wading through these and numerous others you may petition the college for entry into the Nursing School where you may sink your teeth into heartier more relevant courses.  Courses about wound care, post-operative care, general medicine, drug administration, emergency procedures, pediatrics, ob, surgery, pharmacology…..

Is that all?

No.  Then there are the clinicals that accompany the upper level classes where you actually spend real time working in the hospitals applying to real life situations the scenarios we have discussed in class and read about in our texts and workbooks.  Long hours toiling on the floors of various hospital wards and units for absolutely no pay and no reward save completing a course requirement.  But after completing this course of study you may be deemed worthy to graduate. 

So, that’s it?

No.  You’ll need a review course that goes over everything you just learned for graduation.  That’s about a week of misery, but only 8 hours a day in a cramped classroom setting.  Then, before you can go to work, anywhere, you have to pass a test, the National Licensing Exam.   Only then will you get to call yourself a Registered Nurse and be eligible for employment.  Fail this test and it’s over, all for naught.

And….that’s it?

That’s it.

Sounds great.  Where do I sign up?

And so there we were, two high school buddies re-united for completely different circumstances about to embark on phase two of our adult lives.  Fearful times made somewhat easier by the fact that I was back in my home town, my old bedroom, familiar faces, familiar haunts. 

Our local college had a reputation as one of the best nursing colleges in the state and ranked very highly overall in the country.  All good stuff.  In no time at all we would be completely prepared to handle any experience with which we might be faced in our newly chosen field.  The college of nursing through text, classroom studies and clinical practices would make sure we were ready.  But they didn’t teach us everything…….

Come back tomorrow for a very special part two.