First days

The year was 1979 and I had just completed my nursing training. I was working in a country hospital where I had just been employed as a "full timer", and was so excited to finally be a "real"nurse. Back in those days nurses wore caps that were adorned with various numbers of stripes, some different in colours. These were to indicate to others your level of experience. I always thought that we should have just had a green stripe to begin with, as we were so green to the job. As it was, my stripe was dark blue. The caps were starched, held together with a button and clip and then pinned in place to your head with hair clips. They were cumbersome to wear, always slipped to one side and got in the way, especially when showering or lifting patients. Nevertheless they encompassed the symbol of Florence Nightingale, and I was proud to have earned my final stripe.

Today, my first day, was special. I slipped on my uniform, stockings and white flat shoes, and pinned on my first fob watch, a present from my ever so proud parents. I paused, stepped back and looked at myself in the mirror with some degree of pride as I donned the final piece of attire - the white starched cap that had a single stripe on the side. I turned my head from side to side, looking at myself. I think I must have repositioned my cap about ten times before realising that I might possibly be late for my first day on the job. This was it, the day begins.

After a morning of nerves, realising that I could no longer hide behind the "student nurse" front, and that I now carried huge responsibilities, I settled into some sort of basic routine, probably one I copied from the senior nurse assigned to me. From the morning pill round, followed by breakfast, then the commencement of showering and washing patients, I started to feel some confidence creeping in. All of a sudden this was shattered when I was directed to do my first patient rounds with the General Practitioners (GP's) who had patients on my wing. You see in this hospital there were no resident doctors, no specialists, no registrars within ones beckoned call. No, just the local GP's who did their rounds with their frowns, before heading back to their rooms to see awaiting patients.

To do a doctor's round, you were required to escort the GP (sometimes in tow with the hospital matron), through the ward to see his patients. You were lead to believe that it was a privilege to walk alongside a doctor during his rounds and, it was done so in a subservient manner as well. During the rounds, you were expected to be able to recite every single patient's diagnosis, historical events (since the GP's last rounds), results from investigative tests, observations (blood pressure, temperature and respirations), operations, dressings and current medications. Heaven help you if you forgot anything or were unfamiliar with the patient's condition. To be honest, heaven couldn't have helped you, in fact no-one could have!

So there I was, racking my brains to deliver all the necessary information and to impress. However, impress I did not, fail I did. I struggled to remember patient names let alone remember what the results of their blood tests were. And of all times to do the rounds, who had to accompany me but the hospital matron! She was short, stocky and stern. Not the caring sharing nursing image that comes to mind that is for sure. After an initial build up of confidence at the start of the morning shift, it all came crashing down in one foul swoop which took all of five minutes. I was left standing in the corridor having failed my initiation to conducting a perfect doctor's round and told to go back to the staff office to review all of my patients notes. In addition to this, matron looked up at me over the rim of her round glasses and said "I will deal with you later nurse".... I was a blubbering mess for the rest of the shift telling my senior nurse that I would never be able to do it all, I was just not as good as she was. She looked at me with pity and said "In a few weeks you will wonder what all the fuss was about. You will be fine. Trust me, it wont take you long to get the hang of it".

She was right too. I survived and it didn’t take me long to get the hang of it all, and I never looked back.

Never underestimate your ability to do well. It may take a bit longer than others and you may not do it perfect the first time around. But if you believe in your intentions and ability, you will succeed. We often place too much pressure on ourselves to be perfect and correct first time up. Trust in your own ability and believe that what ever you do, is the best you possibly can. Learn from your downfalls, pick yourself up and you will be better next time around.