That’s why they say you’re “high”-ered…

Applying for new jobs has far too many similarities to drug addiction, to me:

• I started off pretty slow… Picking through listings and only going for the ones that sounded like my perfectly ideal job. But as the addiction grew, I began to need more and more to feel satisfied with myself.
• It offers a temporary high. I’ll admit that filling in the same old work history and reference contact info is a pain, but I doubt heroin addicts much enjoy the actual needle stick, either. But once I’ve submitted the application, I get a brief sense of hope. I keep going back for that hopeful feeling.
• I’m forever telling myself, “This will be the last one I’ll have to do.” I want so badly to quit.
• But, so far at least, it’s never been the last time. I’ve always needed more. After a few hours– or even a few days of hopeful, patient waiting for any sign of contact from a recruiter– the high wears off. And then the rejection hits, and I’m right back to where I was… Or feeling even worse off.

I came to these conclusions today, at the end of a week that’s been utterly depressing for me. I’m bored, lonely, and restless at home. After a day of feeling especially down in the dumps, I found myself online applying to two more jobs to bring my total for the past two days into the double digits. The “high” isn’t as high anymore, because I’ve all but stopped letting myself get too hopeful about any of these positions. I’ve stopped being selective about what I apply for, too; I have applications out at hospitals and rehab clinics, for pediatrics and for adult medicine, down the road and 1,000 miles away. I’ve posted my resume on so many websites that I’m surprised my name’s not trending on Twitter (yet.). I’ll go almost anywhere and do almost anything to simply be a nurse.

I hope one day (maybe even sometime in the not-so-distant future) I can look back on these angst-ridden, frustrated posts and say how all this paid off in finding a great job at a great hospital where I’m learning a lot and loving life. In the meantime, though… Guess I’ll go get another fix.  ; )

A moment like this

Facebook now enables me to reminisce on even what may have seemed like trivial moments, thanks to its new feature highlighting status updates made on this date one or more years ago. A few weeks ago it was the anniversary of “first day of senior year!!”; more cryptically, the other day marked two years since “:)”. Yesterday I was pleasantly surprised by my status from 2010: “Saw a little baby girl be born today! Love maternity.”

It struck me because this is an anniversary that is actually very significant to someone. For that family– that mom, dad, and brand new little daughter– it is a first birthday celebration! I can still distinctly remember tearing up at the sight of the miracle of birth, watching mom’s face light up as her baby girl was handed to her, watching dad’s giddy smile as he announced the weight. I felt so priviledged to have been a part of it. That is what nursing is about for me, being there in those moments that make all the difference.

There were a lot of those special moment on my maternity rotation, which was one of the things I most enjoyed during that time. I remember helping some new parents give their day old daughter a bath, and having a proud grandfather stop me and ask me to pose for a picture. It was an ordinary nursing task, and yet it was a milestone event.

The moment isn’t always so pronounced; it’s not always a photo opportunity. On one of my overnight shifts during my preceptorship I cared for one family whose infant son had just come from the OR after a repair of a small-type omphalocele. The family was overall quite calm and extremely pleasant, but it was clear that mom was worried about her son’s pain management and recovery from surgery. His NCA pump (nurse-controlled analgesic) allowed for boluses of the pain meds every hour, so every hour there I was giving a bolus and doing a quick assessment: heart rate, respirations, bowel sounds. I think mom slept through maybe two checks. She wasn’t frazzled– just a “how is he doing? You gave the meds, right? Any poop yet?” and then we parted for another sixty minutes.  Around the 0500 check, I walked into the room to find mom already up at his cribside. “I think I heard a toot!” I laughed and checked the diaper. “Someone wants to be off NPO in time for breakfast.”

That was it, a baby fart. But at that moment, to that mother, it was a sign of relief. As I left that morning, she asked me if I would be back for that night’s shift. I think that was the first time I’d been “asked for” by a patient, and I felt so honored that I wished I could have said yes. It didn’t matter that this was my third shift in a week’s time, or that I’d been running most of the night with several busy patients. I wanted to be a part of all that.

Now I just want to be a part of anything nursing related. I’ve had dreams about hospital orientations, job interviews, and patients. I even casually flip through my NCLEX books, just to keep familiar with some of the terms and diagnoses. Last week I applied to volunteer at one of the hospitals like I used to do; if they’re not going to hire me, maybe I’ll at least be able to get myself out of the house and onto a unit, even if it is just to fold laundry or stock bedside tables. I need some more meaningful moments in my life.