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.

Drop gently

Echoing my latest traumas,
Suitably equips the day for tears.
Staring at mosaic traffic lights
In wobbly formation over my windscreen.
Wiped away in one fell swoop, still red
I wait for the changing light. Wiper sweeps again.
If only it were that easy. Swipe away!
Why can't my tears wipe like that?
Disappear with a wiper blade.
Instead, recurring on daily basis;
Wiped but not forgotten.
Drop gently,soundless, no bereft sob.
Quiet, tears rolling - in peaceful reverie.
Tears to echo the day, constant drips of rain.
I set off again, still weeping silently.
Clouds tease apart with surgical precision.
Revealing some hope of blue; some hope
But none for me: my rainbow does not appear.

I don't feel very well . . .

Bearing in mind that I had such a poor start on my first ever shift; you'd think that I'd make it up somehow... read on dear reader! 

By the way, I forgot to tell you about my sick phobia... yes I know, I'm embarking on my nursing career and can't stand the thought of puke... so when the gargled call for help comes behind the first set of curtains.... "nurse I'm going to be sick" I sort of guide the nearest staff nurse in . . . not a good start!  I'm then asked, once they've 'discussed' with me that I really shouldn't do that; ahem! Come and watch this, we're just taking out a vacuum drain from this knee. Ye gods! The patient is recovering from a knee replacement and the drain has done its job and needs removing. Fine, great learning opportunity but I am the tickled stomached one remember... and as the drain is squelched out under duress, I start to see green and black swirly things and clutch the curtain on one hand and grab the only thing in front of me... the sterile field of the dressing trolley, then slump to the floor in a sobbing heap. At this point, well after I'm assisted to the office and sipping water, I'd quite like to run away from ward 7 male orthopaedic, never to return. I remember the family motto K.B.O  'keep buggering on'. Apologise profusely and try again. My confidence is picked up momentarily when I am asked to help give a patient a pain killing injection post operation. I struggled with oranges so . . . oh well here we go!  All was well till I started to depress the plunger and the patient wit emerges, still under the dregs of anaesthesia " One hundred and Ei--ghty"!  muttered from under the covers . . . That good huh! "Is that the first time you've done that"? Fortunately the trained nurse observer sticks up for me/ OK lies - for which I am eternally grateful. This nursing lark might be alright round the edges after all ?

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 ? 

Hospital Corners . . . 1, 2, 3, lift

We practiced our nursing skills in the practical rooms of the School of Nursing. Curiously, groups of 18 and 19 year old women, staying in voluntarily, during their break, possibly previously unheard of! This was all done to impress our nursing tutors to gain good assessment marks with our crisply made, regulation hospital corners. During these juvenile training days, we also had to practice patient 'lifting' techniques. Of course, all 'lifting' techniques being completely outlawed these days; but we were expected to be able to confidently and safely lift patients in the designated ways. We'd practice these at the most inopportune of moments; the middle of a crowded pub being one that springs to mind. We were proud that we were considered 'good lifters'. 

Washing a patient in bed was one of the most fundamental skills we were taught during 'block'. Typically known as a 'bed-bath' it seemed to me that patients would have a bed-bath; no, sorry be given a bed-bath whether they wanted/needed one or not! There were masses of rules for this one. These listed, number of times you changed the water, temperature of the water, privacy, patient comfort and modesty (debatable at times), number of towels and exactly where to be placed, washing order, you name it, it was covered, but mostly in the patients' case uncovered. A patient in bed seemed to automatically trigger a bad case of pyjama/nightie induced paralysis. It was expected back then, to wash every one within an inch of their lives. Now we actively encourage patients to care as much as possible and practical, for themselves, fostering their independence and cutting down on our nursing time. But, there was another reason for this labour intensive bathing; you were able to chat to your patient and see how they were feeling. A far better opportunity for one - one conversation; than when the Consultant and Sister entourage hit the wards for the ward round and asked the patient in ceremonious fashion from the foot of the bed . . . " How are we feeling today"? 

damage to their skin. The treatment of choice was to apply talc to the affected area, buttocks, heels, hips etc and heaven forbid, rub the skin to 'improve the circulation nurse'. Aah! not now though... rubbing the skin was shown to cause friction and potential damage to the areas of skin, thus adding to the pressure area equation. Relief from the 'boney prominence' was also recommended, and is chiefly the way to prevent pressure areas and ulcers today. A 'turning chart' was duly filled in when said 'turn' had been carried out, for those patients who were unable to change and shift position themselves. Again, back in the 21st C patients are educated and actively encouraged to help themselves, 'to help themselves' where ever possible. A huge amount also depends on the state of the patients' nutritional status, medical history and numerous other factors, but this is the simplest way. Gone also are the, well meaning pressure relief aids, such as sheep-skin mats, and rubber rings, water-filled gloves and god knows what, that were used before research proved that in fact we were potentially causing more harm than good. It was all down to the mattress now! Multitudes of mattresses were duly outcast to the bowels of the hospital and new high spec pressure relief ones took their place. Mattresses were no longer sprayed with alcohol spray which was apt to make the covering brittle and eventually crack . . . but that is going to lead on the ward cleanliness and well, that's another story. . .

How it all began

I fell into nursing, not just sort of accidentally fell, but tripped headlong onto the ward and landed arse first...

I always saw myself as a nurse and have the photo's to prove it. I couldn't possibly be a nurse could I? Not a hope with my total tickled stomach. Me who had to be virtually carried out of Biology class, fainted doing CPR in Brownies and had to lie down on a cold kitchen tile floor after watching an operation . . . on T.V. Didn't really bode terribly well did it! So, when my 6th form tutor said I'd make a good nurse, to say I was flattered and very amused is putting it mildly. I was flattered because my maternal Grandmother had been a nurse and midwife in the 30's and 40's; and I loved hearing about her vivid recollections.

Eleanor Ashcroft

 I have been left a wonderful legacy of nursing memorabilia. Grandma kept every item of her training documents, including ward reports, pencil lecture notes and even exam papers. Plus a range of nursing journals and testimonials, job applications and uniform permits. Her midwifery bag is also one of my treasured possessions, still with most of its contents.

Before the family left, Dad gave me a photograph of me aged about 3 or 4 dressed in a nurses uniform with the most serious visage and looking concernedly at my baby sister, who laying on the sofa with thumb in, was supposedly my patient. Heaven help her, bearing in mind that the plastic tubing stethoscope was not really anywhere of diagnostic use. As he left, he said:

" here you go, see if you can make a proper go of it now... work hard and play hard"!

Eventually all the belongings I'd brought with me were unpacked and put away... and the photo of Grandma as a nurse took pride of place on the top of the bureau. She became my ultimate inspiration in later months and years. I was one of 50 group 279 students. Training had begun.

Storm

Retreating under eiderdown, taking solace from thunderous roar.

Hoping, praying 'it' won't get me and I'll be safe once more.

Daring not to peep and plugging fingers in my ears,

Dreading when the next crash comes and heightening my fears.

Accompanied now by intense glare; lighting up my room.

I start to count in elephants... until the next vile boom.

"It's only a cloud's tea-party". My parents used to say;

I'd hate to know what's going on. . . have giants come to play?

It must be quite a bad storm 'cause soon Mum's standing there.

Snuggles in right next to me, protects me in her care.

I try to seem much braver now but crashes still abound.

Mum's here now, no need to fear, I'll be safe and sound....

Years on now, I love a storm, love the anticipation

Loving the romance, sharing the moment - watch in fascination

As lightning partners thunder in some curious angry dance.

Nowadays I'd be joining them, given half a chance!

My husband wraps his arm round me and pulls me close to him.

Seems a lifetime ago, when I was small and feared life and limb;

Hiding under bedclothes, being nearly driven insane;

Listening for poor cats and dogs, stranded in the rain.

No fear grips me; in loving caress, we listen out, intrigued.

Listen for our own child's cries to comfort if were needed.

But no calls come; sleeps peacefully not clutching covers tight,

And we return to sleep and let the storm take on it's might.