Was it so long ago?

The other day our FB group Group 279 mentioned how long ago it all seemed, that we were embarking on our nursing careers. Well to put it into perspective, this is what really brings it home to me.

• We trained in 1984 in a time when mobile phones were like mega-blocks and access was rare to say the least.
• The Internet was a twinkle in a creator's eye. 
• Google and Yahoo resembled all too much the noises made after a good night out.
• Laptops are possibly best not even mentioned . . . 
• Social networking was chatting at a party
• We were proud if we could lift well; not referring to theft here.
• We barely had a kettle in our poky Nurses Home room, never mind a TV, PC?? DVD player?
• Cameras had film in and needed developing.
• An iPad and Wii fit could be the latest thing in continence aids!
• Petrol was 38p a litre; just thought I'd add that one in too.

What ever happened to those days ? Before I go off into some misty eyed reverie.... I know you can't miss what you never had and all that, but just look where we've come now in 2011, almost 30 years on, the hugely changing pace of technology will no doubt astound us again in another 20-30 years from now! That's progress then - or is it?

Congratulations! You passed Nurse . . .

I often used to look at the photo of Grandma, on my desk in the nurses home, for inspiration. I did work hard eventually, but not until the last 6 months. Then I pulled out all the stops; even sacrificing the odd night out, and they were odd let me tell you! A bit of a blurry haze on more than one occasion! Not so much as the lion the witch and the wardrobe, as the boyfriend, the nurse and the wardrobe . . . No time to explain here.
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Grandma's SRN exam paper 1932

I never kept my exam paper! I was more relieved that it was all over. I never really thought that I'd passed, although the exams did go better than expected. Our Registered General Nurse results were meant to arrive by post at the Nurses Home. About 5 of the results envelopes on that day, including mine, didn't arrive. I was on an early shift that morning and had already decided that I must have failed, being as I had not received notification. 

After some consideration a few of us decided to trail up to the School of Nursing and check what the hell had happened. We ended up reading the results off a list! I'd passed, no couldn't be . . . yes there it was I had passed. A group of us grabbed our paper hats and scrunched them up and threw them into the air with sheer delight. Phone calls were made to anxiously awaiting parents and family. If we were on duty that day, we were supposed to then go on shift, in amidst all the excitement. First, we trooped to the uniform room, to get the hat we had all coveted as students, learned how to fold it and wear it with pride with the blue student sack dress, until such a time till our registration papers came through. It was such a good moment. 

Now we were accountable, qualified nursing staff - looking for work. That's another episode  .  .  .

It's all in the uniform - or is it ?

I wonder how many of you will be able to relate to this, This blog post is about hiding behind a uniform.

Have you ever been in a situation where you hide behind a mask Be it uniform, make up or whatever? . . .

During my nurse training, as I mentioned before, I didn't really feel proud of my student's uniform; it wasn't exactly smart, didn't really inspire people to see the 'learner' stripes emblazoned on the paper cap, perched precariously on stray hair. 

However - once we passed our State Registration, it all changed, we got to wear the same crappy blue sack-like dress, but with a symbolic long white cap, up until our Registration papers came through, any way. Then we were, proper nurses, wearing proper uniform and expected to be accountable and professional. This transformation of uniform took on the white dress of the qualified nurse complete with the pale blue belt and the coveted silver buckle, later to become health and safety obsolete. As much as they were totally impractical and latterly outlawed for the purposes of moving and handling; they looked pretty good!

Me in full battledress!

The thing was, as much as this uniform evoked a lot of pride in me, it also scared me at first. Did I really own the privilege to wear this now ? Well yes, but was it really me underneath, and was I only masquerading in this uniform? Did it make me feel more professional, yes! Some days early on in my career, I felt as though someone else completely was on the ward, not me at all. I was 'hiding' beneath this professional veneer. Has anyone else ever felt like that and does it matter anyway?

A bit of a wobble . . .

During our Nursing training there were 4 main practical assessments we had to pass. One of which was the sterile dressing assessment. Now I thought I was reasonably good at this and seemed to get to grips fairly quickly with the whole routine. 20+ years ago his comprised of washing and drying the dressing trolley, when one was available that is, selecting all the necessary accoutrement's and performing a competent and safe dressing change using the 'forceps' technique, not glove technique as in today. Those plastic forceps could be little buggers. Especially if required to assist with removal of stitches. The suture thread used would often slip through the so- called toothed forceps and refuse to be held. Patient preparation was just as much as important in the assessment as the actual procedure; the 1980's had begun to accept that the patient played an important role now as an individual. 

In my practice run I had carried out the mock assessment with a Staff Nurse I really got on with and admired. I hadn't gone brilliantly to be honest. Nerves kicked in. The dressing pack was duly opened and tipped onto a beautifully clean trolley top only to skid right off it and onto the floor. SN said, that's why you should have a spare one underneath the trolley, just in case. Ah! note to self. Hands freshly washed I returned somewhat abashed to the trolley and started again. All went well this time, I'd have passed hands down. Little did I know what would happen on the day of the real assessment. . .

My patient was to be a lovely lady who needed removal of abdominal sutures following a hysterectomy. I knew the lady well, she was happy for me to do the procedure, knew it was an assessment and away we went. All was wonderful, until I took out the first couple of sutures and she started to cry. This was my chance to put my true bed-side manner into practice, but it also meant having to stop, hold her hand, comfort and wash hands all over again. Having assessed that she was not it pain, uncomfortable from my attempts to remove sutures; it became clear she was having her 'gynea-blues wobble'; the 'technical' term for a hormone induced post operative upset. She kept crying, her belly wobbled up and down and I could not complete the assessment. The poor lady was devastated, thinking I would not pass and it would be all her fault. All I wanted to do was give her a big hug and ditch the whole process. 

I did pass that assessment. Despite everything, the assessor saw enough to pass me on  safety and dexterity, plus added observed human element

Those were the nights! Part 1. . .

It had to happen sooner or later . . . the dreaded night duty! Working from 7:45pm to 8:15 am in one hit NOOOOOOO! How the hell was I going to cope with this. Some of my friends and fellow students had already embarked on their stints of night duty. This was signposted down the nurses home corridors with an unfolded nurses hat flying from the door way in an attempt to say shut the *&%* up I'M on nights. This did not however deter the rattling around of the cleaner in the morning; even if your waste bin was put out side the room AND there was a tell-tale white-board notice on the door declaring NIGHT DUTY please shhhhhhh! etc. NO! the cleaner bless her decided to clatter her way into the room with her skeleton key and crank open the door handle, peep round the door and on seeing me 'trying' to sleep in bed, go in reverse, bang the door and clump down the corridor dragging her 'henry' behind her! 
 
I quite liked working nights; honest! I felt quite special appearing for duty in regulation navy & red lined cape, seeing the late shift going home and setting about helping patients to feel comfortable as possible for a night's sleep! ARE YOU KIDDING? Sleep!! Hmmmmm. Not the word that springs to mind, with all the clatter of the medicine trolley and various casualty trolley being wheeled in and out, curtains whipping round, commodes rattling in and out, drip stands being wheeled about, telephones, buzzers and that's not even mentioning the burping, snoring and farting emitting from various beds. So, sleep for those patients didn't really feature did it!

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Ooops! I did it again . . .

My exploits as a Student Nurse in the first few weeks didn't really get a lot better to be honest. I tried so hard, maybe too hard looking back. I meant well with very good intention, but it was not to be. For example, I made the dreadful error of telling a patient my name when this was severely frowned upon by the ward Sister. So, this one shift, I was going round on the walk round ward report when suddenly I heard, 'Kath, please can you' . . . but I never heard the rest because I was whisked away into the office and reprimanded for having told a patient my first name; for goodness sake! Soon after I accidentally left a catheter bag valve open and no surprises really, came back to note an amber trail of wee running under the bed and into the ward... could have been mopped up and discounted had it not been for the fact, said patient was on a 24 hour urine collection save, but not any longer thanks to me. The whole collection had to be started again and I had to once again apologise.

For some inexplicable reason, I decided to ditch glasses for my first pair of contact lenses. I thought that starting nurse training would be the perfect time to change my image. Gas permeable lenses, with a pronounced astigmatism, was not a good combination; the lens would have the habit of slipping down onto my lower lid and popping out. Or, the heat of the ward was apt to dry up the lenses and make them pop out. This happened one memorable early shift when I was helping a very nice looking young chap to have an assisted wash/bed-bath. As I was about to wash his back, one lens decided that now was the time to fall out! It did, right into this patients bed. I was groping about in the bed for it as the senior staff nurse decided to check up on her charge; "I'm just looking for my contact lens" I don't know to this day whether she believed me, but hey! It was fun finding it.

Ermm excuse me Sister . . .

First ever morning on a ward; our advice was pretty much along the lines of take a pen and notebook and make sure you have some breakfast. It had also been suggested that we did a trial run of finding the ward we'd been allocated to. So, origami cap pinned to fractious hair, that was in too long to wear down yet too short to pin up properly without escapee strands; I went without breakfast, because after all that faffing around I had run out of time. I got to my ward, and sat in for handover report. Part way through I was acutely aware that all the patients' names were female, alarm bells shook me as I knew that my first ward placement was male orthopaedic and this was not ward 7 at all. I'm sat on the wrong bloody ward for my first ever day as a student nurse! This was ward 8 female orthopaedic... what the hell do I do now? As revered as the ward sister was to me, I had to embarrass myself and declare " ermmmm excuse me sister, I'm on the wrong ward, I'm terribly sorry" and fly out of the ward office to the ward opposite, where of course by then the ward report had virtually ended and I had to make apologies for my late coming. Not exactly the start I'd been planning or hoping for! "Ah here you are student nurse Butler, better late than never I suppose, which group are you? Ah yes, group 279". Dear God what else could happen on this auspicious Early shift ?