Full-Circle

Last weekend was one of those "full circle" weekends. I started doing a clinical rotation on the very same hospital unit that my daughter was on almost 3 years ago. My memories of that time are very vivid and the pain, though dulled, will still tiptoe up and sting me once in a while. It's true that time does smudge the harsh strokes of despair, being that all things are relative.

Our days no longer start with a nurse waking us up or a pulse oximiter alarm sounding because GiGi is having an apneic seizure, (a seizure when you stop breathing).
Being there made it hard to distinguish day from night. And so we began to speak in a language that measured time by what shift it was or by what nurse was on. Eventually, when we came up with our own schedule for being there, we would adopt the nurses ritual of giving report to each other during our daily shift change.

My husband and I weren't left with the same feelings about the hospital. Although GiGi received the best care the hospital haunts him. I, on the other hand, am drawn to it. I enjoy being there as a volunteer, and as a student. I became who I am now as a direct result of the time we spent there. I have a lot to give back.

The night before I started on the pediatric unit I had awful anxiety. It was not apparent at first what was causing this anxiety. Then, it hit me . . . I will be working with some of the same nurses that had seen me at my MOST vulnerable. I would be learning from some of the nurses who helped to pick me up off the floor after sobbing for hours. I would be meeting with my classmates in the room where my husband and I had softly, and in very few words, spoke of the possibility of our treasured child not coming home. Lastly, I may meet a parent who is where I once was. Will I cry with them or will I have the ability to help them on their journey that I once traversed?

My first day went better than I thought. I worked with a nurse that I knew well and who had been someone who helped my family with it's journey, almost 3 years ago. We caught up a bit and chatted and then it was down to business. I was relieved. The anxiety was pushed away as I immersed myself in the nursing. Now, I am no longer the mother of the little girl in room 3540. I am the nurse, (student nurse) who will care for your child and help you up from the floor when it's slippery with tears.