Nurses Call All the Shots

Enjoy the cuteness before the melodramatic-I'm-still-trying-to-pretend-I'm-a-teenager drama starts...

[Insert drama here]

So much for learning injections being the most exhilarating day of junior one...more like the most stressful. I enjoyed it, but it also caused my very first nursing school meltdown, I cried way too much, and my head still hurts.

We started out with mixing insulin and giving a subcutaneous injection. That was all fine and dandy. How hard is it to stab a fat pad with a needle? Not very. Then the world came tumbling down. We did intradermals on hotdogs (so not like the real thing). Then we got to stick our buddies. Now, the goal of an intradermal is to get this cute little bleb. Bleb. Bleb. Bleb. It's a fun word. Anyway. I didn't get the bleb. I other words, my one shot (no pun intended) at giving an intradermal before they send me out into the real world to give it to a real patient, and I went a little too deep. I wanted to cry, especially when my buddy made the most beautiful little bleb in my left forearm. (Congrats, Buddy! No hard feelings.) The excitement of stabbing a fat pad with the inch and a half long needle was lost after that.

I made it to my little lactation cubby before I cried. I cried all my makeup off and gave myself a headache. I tried to go eat lunch with the girls but ended up finding a quiet place where I could read about antibiotics and cry a little more. (Sappy, sad story. I know. Get over it or quit reading. It was a big deal to me.)

After lunch we went through the injection competency step by step so that we're ready to go next week. I still felt like quitting nursing school. I felt like a complete failure...all because of a stupid little bleb, or lack thereof. I waited my turn. This time we were doing subQ's on our buddies. Finally it was my turn. Ruth looked at me and said, "Are you okay?"

And I lost it.

I was surprised at how much better it felt to cry in front of everyone--much better than hiding away in my cubbyhole. It was good to know that others knew I was struggling. It's hard to not be perfect when people (including yourself) have always expected perfection from you. It's hard to balance being a mother and a wife and a student.

Husband is struggling, too, with seminary. It can be bad, if we sit down and have a pity party together, but it's also nice to know that even though you have a whole mountain on top of you, at least you have your best friend right there with you. At least you can take turns digging. I love my husband. I love my little boy. I love this crazy adventure we're on together. I wouldn't trade it for anything.

**Note to my buddy:  I still want to read your blog--if you're willing to share, that is.**