Welcome to the month of September.
I thought I would go back to my humble way of starting my blogs because I feel like for this one, I needed to start off from the beginning.
With that, welcome to the first and last blog for the month.
I know for the past weeks, you have been waiting patiently for a notification to drop as to when the blog has being dropped or a status update on my Facebook.
As you are well aware of, you haven’t received any notification about any blog post dropping and this is due to a shit load of reasons.
One of them just so happens to be the reason why I started blogging about my #lifeasanursingstudent.
That reason would be known as college and the driven force behind myself as to why I want to be something successful and be noticed as being so.
Like many of you know, especially if you are/have been a student at college or you have children at college, professors and tutors like to develop a little thing called ‘assessments’.
As I am being reminded on a weekly basis from said tutors/professors ‘I am a third year student so we (college) are expecting the best’.
In other words, most of my assessments are coming in at a whooping 50-60%.
So in essence these assessments, due to the fact they are making up 1/2 to 3/4 of my overall mark when summer semester rolls around, it is rather important I do my best.
This has meant that ‘Stairway To Nurse’s Heaven’ has been hiatus for a month as I sorted out time to complete all of my assessments and start looking at the next lot that’s due.
Not to mention I have been trying to figure out clinical placement times so I can get back to being on a ward as I haven’t been on one in almost a year. Have to admit, just having written that is daunting and concerning to say the least.
|City Hall, Brisbane, Queensland.|
Guess I better book some lessons in the lab before I set foot into a patient’s 2×4 zone that features a portable cupboard, bed, desk and the patient, themselves.
With that, I swear next month there shall be posts as I battle my way through three assessments (one weighing in at 45%) and my exams of which both weigh 50% and 60%.
I hope with the 60% exam, you send little thoughts and well wishes my way because 60% is the most weighed in exam I have done in the last three and a half years.
But with my positive thoughts and affirmations I am trying to teach myself on a daily basis to think and feel, I have a feeling with a little study, coffee and study: I can and will be able to do this.
Plus I have been told positive affirmations on a daily basis will help you in moments of doubt and anguish.
Particularly when things have hit the fan and you don’t know what or where you are going in life.
But they can help you find the pathway your feet will take you on.
In my case, my wondering and somewhat itchy feet.
For those who have spent a life like mine, moving from home to home and house to house, we know what the meaning of having itchy feet indicates.
As for those who have absolutely no idea what in Lord’s name I am talking about, here is your answer: the meaning behind itchy feet means you are going to be travelling soon or taking a great journey.
According to those who post loads on itchy body parts and their significant meanings, having a right foot (in my case) suggests my journey is going to lead me to a destination in which I’ll be welcomed.
Now considering I have written about a light bulb bursting over the top of my head and wondering if that was a sign; it is safe to say I am wondering along the same lines and wondering if it is a sign.
To break out and think along the terms of Miranda Hobbs: it really isn’t a sign at all as I am already walking the journey of becoming a Registered Nurse and as for travelling, my destination of college is in the heart of Brisbane City.
Thus, I spend most days travelling back and forth whenever I have classes on campus. Not to mention in the next three weeks, I head into something that makes any student freeze, suck in a deep breath and appear to be ‘calm’.
Instead of referring to exams as the ‘death of any social life’, I am going to turn my thoughts around and for once in nearly four years, I’m going to see my exams as being the force driving me in determination of reaching my goals and dreams.
These exams are going to allow me on to continuing pathway of nursing and the scary but absolutely thrilling transition between ‘student nurse’ and ‘please bend over and drop your pants’ nurse.
Meaning, I only have another six months to go before I walk across the bloody stage for my 10 seconds of well deserved fame.
|The Opera House, Sydney.|
This means six months of using the hash tag: #lifeofanursingstudent and #college on Instagram.
Six months of posting images of textbooks being used, pens and paper littering my kitchen/dining table.
Six months of having to introduce myself as: “Good evening, my name is ………. and I am going to be your student nurse today looking after you.”
Six months before that cotton wool, protection bandage that was first applied in my first year of nursing college is going to be ripped off.
As a result, am no longer going to be protected or patted on the head like an obedient little child, who follows rules which have been written by a specific university.
In hopes we as students do not kill anyone and in my case, it means I have saved 2 lives while on placement due to nurse buddies flitting out and about, not paying attention to the decrease projection the patient is showing.
It also means for someone who likes to have main/major things down in dot points so I don’t become overwhelmed when shit hits the fan: I have six months to figure out my shit.
From the moment 2016 hits our clocks, I have six months to think about which ward and hospital I wish to be employed and make a difference.
As a student it means I have six months to pick up my grades, placement from any ward that is willing to host a student and also six months to pick as many nurse’s brains as possible.
It also means I spend the next six months hovering outside both the maternity and surgical entrances as I talk myself into walking between the doors and asking to speak to a nurse.
So I can ask them questions about what it would take to become a surgical or maternity nurse and where those jobs can take you.
Both in the field of chosen profession but also in the world of medicine.
Not to mention the question of ‘shall I stay or shall I go?’ will be answered.
I know the real reason why the question of ‘shall I stay or go’ is being asked and it boils down to family.
The thought of moving away from family holds a mixture of different reactions ranging from different life experiences to standing on my own two feet, outside of the family dynamics.
But as much as I know I am a big girl who wears Bridget Jones’ style panties on the first date, I cannot help but wonder ‘am I going to miss out on important things?’
I think this feeling stems back to how close my family and I have become over the last 10 years. Both as individuals but also as a family unit.
Doesn’t help that my parents remind my siblings and I on a daily basis that when they cough up their last breath and cark it, the only thing that is going to remain is the four of us children.
|Hosier Lane, Melbourne.|
Thus we are expected to band together and support one another during those tough and saddening times.
Where no doubt I shall be found in the kitchen baking and cooking meals, rivalling those of the Greek community, in the midst of an attempt to escape the fact one of my parent’s has died.
In fact, my family was described to me by Pablo’s girlfriend as being a family of ‘perfection in a sense that you are welcome and aren’t judged upon first meeting. Having said that, you are all a close knit family which can be described as being something ‘unusual’ and ‘unique’. Most people would kill or are desperate to have a family life like yours’.
The family concept we have rewritten, restructured and yet has never changed over the years is: front door is always open for children and if you need family time, an escape from life or time to recoup and lick wounds; the door is always open.
If a home cooked meal is something you require and need, it is there for you.
When you bite into the succulent meat of a roast and the dessert of your choice, you know you’re consuming a mixture of love, faith and acceptance.
Us children being my siblings and I have always been told that if we were to travel anywhere in the world, which doesn’t consist of picking up a rifle and fighting alongside a terrorist organization; they would send us away with safe travel wishes.
As a result of having the family code of ethics being heavily strummed and ingrained in me, it has caused me to become confused as to where I want to go.
I don’t necessarily mean in which direction as I already know I want to work as a nurse for a couple of years before deciding if I want to continue down the pathway of being a nurse.
Or transition into studying my arse off for the GAMSAT which is Australia’s version of exams for being a doctor and sit the exams for a Bachelor in Medicine.
Thus I have spent the last month….three months wondering and pondering and not to mention waiting for a sign as to what I should do.
As my family have come to known and you will eventually if not already, I am not someone who would randomly give up all forms of security when it comes to safety and life.
Instead, I am someone who spends a few hours (weeks/months) thinking about the pros and cons of my decision and how it is going to impact on my life and what the overall consequences are.
With knowing this and how unrealistic I am about not giving up my control that I have fought and paved for, it has sent me in the direction seeking answers and wisdom from all different aspects in my life.
Firstly, my wisdom and guidance came from two people who have influence within my life.
Lois and The Fairy Godmother.
Between the both of them, I believe they have covered all of United Kingdom, Europe, Asia and the Pacific.
So it is safe to say that both of these fine women have a ton of knowledge in regards to thoughts on travel.
Particularly when it comes to packing a bag, booking a ticket and leaving their family behind without a backward glance as they set off for their destination of choice.
Like most cases revolving around my life and the thought of not being able to have control over them, much to my annoyance and somewhat bitterness, I was told to stop.
I was told to stop thinking, stop stressing and wait for the answers to come to me.
For the answers shall be delivered when I least expect them to before the parting words of, ‘have faith in the Lord. For he shall deliver his promises bestowed upon you and let him ponder on behalf of you’.
This of course released a wave of emotions having been bottled inside of me and the weight of the world which had been perched on my shoulders had been taken away with those words.
For once, I regretted being one of those naughty children who rebelled against Christian teachings in primary school before spending years flitting in and out of church.
That night after being given words of wisdom and being reminded the front door would always be open for me; I wiped away the stray tears trickling down my face and decided it was time to let go.
Let go off the stress that had been overwhelming me to the point I didn’t think I could cope any long and decided it was best to let things fall into place.
So I decided to let the people upstairs take care of whether or not I should stay in Brisbane, Queensland.
Where I would live amongst the annoying palm trees dotting my background, gorgeous surfers who surf away their weekend and allow me to be one of those people who watch them from afar.
Or to living amongst millions of others in a city that never sleeps and sports impressive ferry boat systems for times I need to feel freedom.
A city in which I live in that has a healthcare system, sporting professionals and sports fancy little coffee houses where I can find inspiration from so I can continue blogging.
A city that doesn’t leave me lying there at night, with or without a body next to me, staring at the ceiling and wondering if I have done the right thing.
Such as the thought of should I have just accepted my ‘cane toad’ heritage?
The words of ‘have faith and he shall deliver his promises’ would play into affect when I received a message.
Like any show from my teenage and adult years revolving around the knit foundations of friendship and any form of alcohol and men, had me penning a reply.
It would be fate or rather already in motion, I would be in the city as I would be doing an assessment for my cardiothoracic elective.
After setting a time, destination and reconfirming where we would be meeting, I found myself waiting on the steps of King George Square.
I spent the better part of my time simply watching business men and women walking through the square as they made their way to and from business meetings.
During this time, I spent 10 minutes having an imaginary phone call with a business man.
This man just so happened to be sitting behind me conducting business while eating his lunch as I felt his eyes piercing through my shirt.
|King George Square, Brisbane.|
A few minutes later and a non-verbal response given by me as to what really needed to be done, my honorary guest appeared.
Stopping in my tracks along with my single and very straight heart, not to mention a few people who turned around to take another long glance; I watched a pair of dainty feet make their way towards me.
What caught my attention was the pair of heels, attached to said dainty little feet, coming to a stop before me as my eyes swept up over the shoes.
As my eyes skimmed over the slim thighs encased in a black pencil skirt and red belt that screamed out ‘professional woman’; I came to a stop at a pair of decent breasts wrapped in a white shirt.
These breasts would and could make any woman sit there and wonder if they had enough, before pulling my eyes away from the impressive amount of boob I saw.
Finally the thing that seemed to wrap the neat little bundle of high heels, amazing boobs and the thought of ‘I’m envious of your boobs!’ was the attitude of ‘bitch better have my money’.
This confidence seemed to flow from them which not only attracted me into wanting to hear their stories of travel, how many dicks did you see while you were away; but it also made a few men and women turn around and check this person out.
|The kicks of being a nurse student|
In a way it was like leading a moth to the flame and they just so happened to be the flame.
After being dragged to them and embraced within a loving, warm hug, we made our way through Queen Street as we discussed the benefits of travelling and travel sex.
Having decided we would forgo the cocktails at 1 in the afternoon, we made our way across the bridge towards South Bank as I commented on how amazing they looked.
Like any conversation revolving around our common interests which are: money, power, dominance, sex, cocks, men and weight; I found myself dropping a sentence.
Having just grabbed their arm, I turned to them as we came a stop at the set of lights and said in a serious tone, “you look great but god, you need to eat! Your arms are so stick thin and don’t get me started on your arse”.
Most people who don’t know me and the concern I have for empowering women with positive thoughts and images, would have slapped me across the face and stormed off.
All the while muttering underneath their breathe about how rude and insensitive I can be.
Sure enough, I can see where they are coming from because weight seems to be a touchy subject for everyone in this world at some point or given time.
Instead of being slapped, I had this person laughing in hysterics and was reminded their arms have always been thin.
As for their arse being slimmer, you could thank exercise from their recent holiday overseas and leading a busy life of eating men.
Posing here and there for photos throughout the beginnings of Brisbane’s river festival that was just about to launch at South Bank; we made our way to a little sushi restaurant we love.
While selecting our sushi of choice and munching away in silence, our 20/20 questions of where we were going in life, relationships to be undertaken and promises we held dear to ourselves began.
I was subjected to being asked: “So what are you doing after you finish college?”
As a result, she was equally subjected to being asked, “Are you eventually going to stop studying after becoming known as Doctor in whatever field you want?”
The 20/20 questions would continue as we strolled our way through bougainvillea covered metal framework lining the sides of the archway as we made our way to our heaven of dessert.
We both came to a stop outside of Max Brenner’s and I found myself breathing in the smell of melted chocolate.
|Max Brenner, Brisbane.|
Settling our 20/20 questions for a few minutes, we ordered our preferences before collapsing into a table and began questioning and gossiping.
As the poor waiter came to deliver our delicious and non-guilty dessert, I couldn’t help but burst into hysterical laughter as I was told about sex doping on pills, once brought from a sex store.
I never actually found out if they caused the person taking the medication to become hyperactive and want to flick the bean as the waiter returned with our drinks.
Having collapsed into my seat after finishing my delightful chocolate souffle, I found myself becoming serious.
As I leaned across the table, I asked “what do you think I should do?”
The question referred to what we had been talking about as we made our way over to Max’s.
I had been discussing my thoughts of when I graduated college or was close to graduating, I would pack my bags for a weekend and take off.
Board a plane and point to a place on the map and see what the city was like.
As she sat there listening to what I had to say, I openly discussed my thoughts on moving to Sydney or Melbourne and becoming a registered nurse as I could now work in any state or territory.
This of course was a ‘what if’ moment if I couldn’t find a placement within the Queensland Health status and if I woke up one morning and that ‘what if?’
I soon learnt what this person had to think in terms of moving out of the home in a sense of moving away from family.
In particular to a different state as the comfort of home wouldn’t necessarily be there if I grew home sick and couldn’t fly back to see my family, for that added comfort.
However, I was told moving to another state would allow me to stand on my own feet, experience life that most people would dream of and I would gain a sense of accomplishment.
This of course left me wondering about what had been said, suggested and reconfirmed as I made way back home, where I am surrounded by palm trees.
It was in that moment as I watched rain splatter against the thick glass, I wanted to send an email to Heaven On Bourke and ask ‘was it hard for you to pack your bags and move to Sydney?’
Least to say that email is still waiting to be sent as it resides deep within my draft box.
I learnt as a result of that afternoon and watching Lady Blacksnot consume a dessert the size of her head, it is best to wait for an answer to appear.
Rather than sitting here and making assumptions as to whether or not, ‘shall I stay or shall I go?’ because unlike today, I cannot predict might happen tomorrow or in the future.
In this case, I am simply going to send up a prayer and hope some of my questions may be answered.
Because I do know my answers for having supportive women in my life has been answered and for that, I am truly and utterly blessed.
With that, hope you have had a fantastic September and I will see you in October.
Until next time,