When grandpa was dying, I was a dumb nursing student starting clinical rotations for the first time. The most I could do for him was fix his nasal cannula, fluff his pillows, and steal foam mouth swabs from school to bring home on the weekends so that he could dip them in ice and suck on the few drips of water he could keep down. I felt useless and desperately wanted to do more. I remember thinking although he was at the end of life, there must have been something else I could do to make his experience, and my family’s experience, better.
If you would have told me then that I’d go on to be a nurse practitioner at MD Anderson Cancer Center years later, I would have laughed. I’ve come so far from when I first started. I didn’t even know what nursing truly was. I joined on a whim walking on campus one day. The dean of nursing switched me in literally as our chemistry class was happening, and I obviously showed up late, clueless as to what the lecture was about and thinking I made a mistake.
I’ve been a nurse for eight years now and am in my first year as a nurse practitioner. The funny thing is, despite all the experience, knowledge, and wisdom I’ve acquired, I feel like I know nothing. I know I’ve done so much, and yet it feels like so little. I think this is the humbling part of being a nurse; yes, you’re exposed to the most intimate and powerful moments in life, but there’s always something more to accomplish. There is always something new to learn, always a new skill to acquire to keep inside your toolbox for the patient who might need it in a week, a month, or even a few years from now. I once joked that I’d always feel like a new nurse when I was actually a new nurse. And this sentiment still rings true years later. I don’t think it will ever go away. And I think it’s because no matter how much I do, no matter how much I learn, no matter how many patients I touch or how many procedures I do, there will always be this relentless pursuit to do more and to do things better. There will always be the desire to learn more, be more, and push for more. Just in case the next patient needs it.
I don’t know what I don’t know, but what I do know is that the person I am today is leaps and bounds better than the new nurse I was eight years ago. How many patients had to suffer because I couldn’t pick up on something years ago? How many diagnoses did I miss? How many complications occurred because I didn’t have the foresight to catch an impending SBO (small bowel obstruction) as a young nurse? How many times did something fly under my radar because I wasn’t good enough to find it?
Everything I’ve done and all the patients I’ve been able to care for thus far is just a speck on a timeline. I’ve learned and I’ve lost. And this year, being a nurse practitioner fellow, my only job is to literally learn. I’m loving every moment of this fellowship, even if I’m not. And I could not have asked for a better cohort. I’m loving that at the core of everything, after all the misery I’ve been through with nursing the past few years especially through COVID, I’m still me and have the core values that first got me obsessed with this profession. I’m loving that I feel so stupid every week and that I’m not afraid to ask stupid questions. I’m loving that slowly, but surely, I’m getting a glimpse of the kind of provider I am. I’m loving that I’m getting better for myself so that I can be better for the next one. I loving that I’m making a difference for me, and that it means something to my family. I’m loving that I’m never comfortable and every week, there’s so much I simply don’t know. I’m loving the intensity that is coming at me, the intensity that makes life life.
If I walk away learning anything from this experience so far, it’s that I should never doubt the zest I have for this job even when things get tough.
Maybe I still am the same little girl I was years ago, fluffing my grandpa’s pillows after all. Always passionate. Never wavering.