Wrapping Up 2012

Last day of school!

Well...school nursing.

Spent my 2nd day alongside a high school nurse. Of the 2 student populations I've seen, they have their pros and cons:

PROS:

The High School Kid:

• Can explain what's wrong with them.
• Have cell phones and direct access to their parents.
• Better fashion sense.
• Better listeners.
• Less crying.

The Elementary Child:

• The cuteness factor.
• Terrible at faking. (In the biz, we call it "malingering").
• Catching disability / disease earlier means more years we may be able to positively impact their lives.

CONS:

The High School Kid:

• Can Google symptoms and recite them back. (See the next bullet).
• Accomplished fakers -- (although I was in a school of the arts...so mine may have been better actors).
• As big or bigger than you. (Depending on where you are, this could be potentially scary).

The Elementary Child:

• Wiggle. Wiggle. Wiggle. Wiggle. Wiggle. Yeah.
• They don't know what's wrong and often answer yes to any question. (Does your tummy hurt? Yes. Does your head ache? Yes. Do you have a third eye? Yes.)
• Poorer impulse control. One kid grabbed the mouse and started messing with the school health records while my nurse turned to grab something.

They all need you. Of course that's something I like about nursing in general, so its hard for me not to like some aspects of school nursing. However I find myself wondering if I'd be locked into a kind of Groundhog Day after a while: same flu, same bumps and bruises, same problem parents. It will likely be this way wherever I end up. (Perhaps less likely in the ER...I'll have to ask them). 

You can't argue that school nursing seems like a pretty cushy job: 180 work days per year on a full time salary. Set hours. No on-call. No weekends. Very nice pay. 

Hmmm. Maybe I could get used to kids.

It is also the end of the year!

Looking back to where I was last year I'm pretty amazed at everything. I was still adjusting to a new life in a new city. Still learning my nursing school survival skills. Getting to know everybody. Missing home.

Now I pretty much know what to do to survive this place...although I've learned to take nothing for granted. Beginning to see the weeks and months blurring past and knowing I'll be standing up in a ridiculous white nurse's dress, hat and hose ensemble soon (God willing). I have places I like to go, and people I like to see here, which takes the edge off being far from home. There are so many people I'll miss here once I leave. Overall I am thankful beyond words to be through everything I've endured and to still be holding my own. 

2013 will be another year of big changes: graduation, writing my boards, becoming licensed and finding that first job. Settling in wherever I'm planted and plotting my next moves.

Merry Christmas everyone!

Dear Little Kid...

I would have picked you up from school if I was your mom —with the skin on your upper body blistering up so much it looked like you were covered in bubble wrap. I saw your little self in the doorway to the school nurse's office covered in red bumps and wondered what dread disease I might be taking home with me today. I tried to keep you at arm's length as you hopped all around my office claiming it was "fleas."

Maybe it was fleas. Or maybe you are dreadfully allergic to something you ate. Or new laundry soap. How would YOU know? You are only 5.

My skin was crawling and I wanted to scratch some imaginary itches the whole time. And I really, really didn't want you touching me. But I remembered when I was a girl and I decided to suntan in a field of wild grasses by the sea -- and I ran screaming home to my mom covered in what looked like puffy red whip-marks all over me. (I don't sit on the grass anymore.) And my heart went out to you.

I must have told you a hundred times that the scale was not a toy. And please don't touch that. Or that! You hopped around so much it was like you had ants in your pants.

Hey...maybe you DID!

How could I expect you to hold still?

I named you "Itchy McScratchy" and told you I was going to frost you like a cake with hydrocortisone cream. You thought that was silly and giggled when the q-tip got you under the arms. Your poor little arms.

You leaned on me while we called your mom as I tried to enter a million data-points in the computer and simultaneously keep you from pulling all the shelves down. Then you had half yourself on my lap. Then all of you.

When your little brown arms went around my neck I stopped typing and held you--resigning myself to whatever pestilence I might catch.

I don't know if I would ever want to be a school nurse, but I am asking myself: what if I hadn't been there for you today?

I really wish your mom had come picked you up. I almost took you home with me!

Your student nurse.