Unlike most of my years that have been spent blogging about witty things, the secret in depth thoughts on ‘does it really count what I write about?’ and the psychological backing outs of so many things undertaken; I found myself sitting down at my favourite little spot in The White House with a blank mind.
So I sat down at the dining room table on a bright sunny Australian spring day without a thought in my overly crowded brain and penned these questions in my signature writing.
As a form of therapy since I am coming to the end of a pathway that I’ve been steadily walking on and sometimes, stubbornly jumping off the beaten track when things appear like they’re too hard; I am going to be answering these questions over the next few posts.
Not only will they serve as a form of written memory for when my brain starts turning to mush after one too many night duties spent listening the sound of alarms beeping, but they will also allow me to see how far I’ve come as a student nurse. Something I must admit Dearest Reader, as someone who spends most of their time when not completing assignments, sitting exams or sticking fingers in other people’s orifices, I often cannot tell how far I have come.
Considering it seemed to click the other morning while doing a voice recording for an assignment that this was very much my last semester of college, I couldn’t seem to shake the feeling of ‘what if?’. What if I hadn’t picked up my very first copy of Nurse Jackie and found myself, one winter’s morning in the middle of nowhere, watching a nurse snort what appeared to be cocaine.
Don’t worry, it later turned out to be a crushed up vicodin tablet before being promptly split into two while lines and snorted through a rolled up 5 dollar bill.
Having said all of this while battling against those additional words that want to come free, allow me to grasp the sense that I am literally at the end of the tunnel. The same tunnel I have spent the last four years writing about on and off, the same tunnel I have been consistently dreaming of crossing like a stranded marathon runner on the brink of collapsing when they pass that splendidly, glorious line.
The same tunnel that will take me from being recognised as a Student Registered Nurse in a navy blue, collared shirt with QUT: School of Nursing embroided on it like a lighthouse warning ships that rocks were ahead. To become a fully fledged nurse that informs her patient that I’m the nurse and “I have your enema, Mr. Smith”.
I literally love playing with arseholes all damn day.
In a way, both you and I knew this moment was going to happen sometime in the future and that we would have to slowly bring ourselves about with the thought of no more ‘I tried to snip off a rat’s dick’ moments. Although you have got to admit it was a classic moment of mine and if you haven’t read it, than you should click here.
Like Forrest Gump once said while cradling a box of chocolates in his lap, “Life is like a box of chocolates” and in my case, they taste like peppermint. So as I write about my secret love for all things peppermint related, my overall point is: the next 4-6 weeks are going to be emotionally tough for me and as a result, I might seem distant in my posts or they seem a little out of tune.
So please be patient with me as I find myself bursting into tears at any given point of randomness to wondering if I had made the smartest decision of my life and abruptly sign up for another degree. Let’s just hope and pray it’s not a Bachelor Degree in Math because we’d all be screwed then.
With the thought of a Math degree lurking in the back of my brain, I am going to sign off for another post. I promise I won’t bombard those who aren’t here for nursing posts continuously however please note, this is what I originally started blogging about and thus, it’s in my blood.
Plus, who doesn’t love a little dick talk every now and then over the medication chart?
Until next time,