Although I thought I entered nursing as my second choice career (I was shooting for a classical composer), I believe now I was destined to be a nurse, I believe it is my soul's calling.

Let me tell you a story:

As a kid I suffered lots of earaches.  For as young as I remember my ears were my Achilles heel.  When the pain would begin I would try and hide from my mother who would dutifully bring me to the ear doctor. 

What my mom didn't understand was how terrifying that experience was.  Truthfully, I don't know how she got me into the office, I would fight her tooth and nail as she tried to placate me with promises of an ice cream when we were all done.

There was nothing she could promise that would make me acquiesce to the diabolical doctor-nurse duo I encountered every time I had an earache as they pinned me down on the stretcher, restrained my arms and hands to place an ether cone over my face.

Upon waking, it was invariably to an injection of some kind of antibiotic into my butt cheek that was not only painful but left me feeling violated.  I can't tell you how many earaches I had over my childhood but suffice to say, it was one too many.

Other encounters with healthcare professionals during my childhood left equally traumatic imprints on my memory so, needless to say, the thought of joining their ranks was abhorrent.

And yet, I entered the profession of nursing as a student nurse in 1977.

As I write this story to you today and look back over my life experiences it kind of makes sense that I would become a nurse.  

Many people enter the helping professions as an extension of their early life experiences, positive and / or negative.

Similar to my colleagues in other healthcare disciplines, I was drawn to the healing dimensions of healthcare.  I believed I would be different, I would truly care, I would be kind and compassionate with the patients I served.

And, while I was pursuing my undergraduate studies and loved the lectures on the humanities and nursing theory, most of the emphasis of my education was on DOING. 

Doing an assessment, making a nursing diagnosis, planning my care and then implementing and evaluating my plan - my plan, not the patient, my plan.

Once I graduated and entered the real world, theory went out the window as I had to hit the ground running. Adding more and more tasks to my plate, the person I was serving became less and less human until the patient simple became the reason I had so many tasks to perform.

I found myself seduced and ensnared by what I refer to as 'the dark side' of healthcare, which takes on many forms:  

It's everything and anything that keeps you from being acutely aware of the lived experience of the human on the other side of the equipment, infusion, task and beyond.

I tried a few times, unsuccessfully, to free myself from the dark-side; I thought, I'll try a different role, I'll pursue an advanced degree -  but there seemed to be no escape. It felt pervasive and that's when I had, what I believe, was the beginnings of my existential crisis.

Despite all the tick boxes I checked off each shift, all the dictated summaries I completed, all the successful procedures I performed, all the assessments, diagnoses, recommendations and more I made, I was repeatedly thwarted, powerless and reminded of my place in the hierarchy of the system.

I felt completely impotent to effect change. I hated my job.

Was the little girl who abhorred healthcare right?  Was it just a machine that moved bodies through on a conveyor belt without any thought to their humanity?

I contemplated quitting all together and opening up an ice cream shop. Ice cream puts a smile on everyone's face, and I wanted to be part of THAT!  Making people feel better, making them smile, making them happy and to feel seen. 

As I reflect back on that turning point in my career, it would be another 10 years before I would realize that what I was searching for wasn't OUTSIDE of me, it wasn't a different job, or another degree.  What I was searching for was deep within me. 

I was searching for the courage, the clarity and the conviction to create the change I wanted to see in the world. 

I see so many of my colleagues, loving souls, trapped in a self-made prison buried alive under a pile of fear and self-doubt, giving to the point that not only is their cup empty, but it is beyond empty, it's a shell that no longer serves self or others.

I think that's what happened to the 'diabolical doctor-nurse duo' I encountered as a child.  They were lost in a system that didn't honor the giving dimension of caregiving, only focused on efficiency (and probably influenced by a gross misunderstanding of what constitutes traumatic experiences). 

True giving embodies not just action, but intention and presence.

When we give to another we acknowledge and honor their personhood and recognize our shared humanity. 

It is in that singular sacred moment of giving that we are invited to transcend the illusion of our differences, our separateness and become one.

Thanks for reading me. Stay safe.

Take care and care well, 

Mary