Personal Narrative: The Nurse's Room

Kit pointed out her mother’s unconventional side; the anger, over reacting, her bad traits were no longer controlled. She gave me an example, “years ago, when she saw a spider she would scream and wash all the floors. Well, now,” she added. “She hires people to spray for spiders. She has them spraying in places she never had spiders, just in case they get in the house. She hires multiple people to spray for those spiders.” Kit rolled her eyes. “I tried to explain, that spraying all that poison is bad for her health. She didn’t understand at all.”

I walked into the dark, dreary nursing home with my father that sunny, Spring day to work my very first volunteer job. The air began to get more tense with every step I took. I’ve always done my part with my dance team, but I’ve never gone and took the initiative to do something on my own. I stood there waiting in my father’s office as he called down the activities director to meet me. Meeting the activity director felt like being on stage for the first time.

Without seeing who said something to me, I quickly shoved the thin blanket off of my straw bed and changed into a worn, brown dress. My hands trembled as I sloppily put my brown hair in a bun. Nothing embellished me but a single silver chain around my throat with a little wooden locket that held a scrunched piece of lace from my late mother’s dress.

The Doctor of Nursing Practice (DNP) helped me to develop leadership skills in my nursing practice by utilizing the integration of nursing science, theories, and concepts with knowledge from ethics, the biophysical, psychosocial, analytical, and organizational sciences as the basis for the highest level of nursing practice. At the start of the DNP program, I was a clinical bedside nurse with limited skills as a nurse educator and leadership, now I feel I have achieved mastery in developing leadership skills as well as increased confidence in the use of evidence-based practice and research. Examples of critical events that have stimulated my growth in the program include the DNP project plan and the workshop implementation.

This is a very interesting read and I will enjoy looking into this some more. You made a vey valid point with the emergency room visits, as this has to make an individual wonder. If this invention is to assist an injured person with a wound, then would this also affect Dr. visits? As the years have rolled by Technology has come far with a lot of Do It Yourself. Just think, cars that can drive and park themselves, Electric Cars not needing any Gas, grocery stores that can scan for you etc.. I can remember being a little girl and I used to love the Jetsons (back in the 80s)and they were (at that time) the family you wanted. I would always wonder why my house couldn't have these features. Here we are 30 years later with some of the features.

who had a cone around it’s face, which despite the event made me smile in amusement. Our feet clacked on the linoleum as we made our way to the front desk to check-in, the pungent smell of a hand sanitizer and the slightly better smell of dog soap lingered in my nose. The nurse gave us a reassuring smile as she walked into another room, to do what I assumed was get the doctor. I kept wiping my palms on my shorts trying to get the sick feeling to leave my stomach. When the doctor finally came out a few short minutes later, she waved our way motioning for us to follow her. As we walked the echoing of shoes hitting the ground kept getting louder and nearly suffocating me with it’s noise.

As I approach a small dimly-lit room in the acute unit where a frail woman lies asleep, I see her family gather closely by the hissing air conditioner, awaiting news. With rampant renal failure, infection, and a brain tumor, her health is in rapid decline. Amidst the tears, my mentor Dr. En Ming Lai mutters, “There is nothing more we can do but to make her comfortable.” My heart sinks. Her son, who looked around my age, glances over to his mother with an agonizing expression. Stricken at a young age, his mother eerily reminds me of my own. As much as I yearned to help them, with my obvious lack of medical training, there was nothing I can do. Death can be unpredictable at times, but in this moment, I knew my fervor to heal solidified my pursuit

I recently finished a round of rehab with Aaron Schauble at your Decatur location and before too much time passes, I wanted to be sure and send a note to you about my experience at the clinic. As a business owner myself, I know how much I appreciate constructive feedback and I want to give credit where credit is due.

In the beginning of the clinical hour, I spends some time to look through every part of assessment, interviewing, diagnosing, outcome identification, planning, evaluating, documenting, reporting, and implmenting with the resident. I asked few of my fellow students and instructors for anything that I don't understand in the paper, and I tried to build an accurate application of blended skills and critical thinking without making any errors and misintepretation by understanding every steps of the nursing

On March 15, 2011, the school called my parents because Kalya, my little sister, felt dizzy and looked pale. My mom responded and took her to the emergency room, when they arrived, my sister fainted and they proceeded to measure her heartbeat. The monitor indicated a heartbeat of 280 bpm, almost quadrupling the common measure. The doctor administrated a medicine that made her heart restart, but her tachycardia was too strong to respond. We felt scared that she was not going to make it, her heart was prominent to explode anytime. Her last memory would be an emergency room, with around 10 doctors and nurses, each one of them performing a different task with the goal of saving her life. They tried a second time with another medicine, she remained unresponsive. Even though she noticed the chaos occurring around her, her eyes were fixed on her family at all times. A couple of minutes after the second dose, they tried a third medicine to restart her heart, if that did not work, no more options remained. After a few seconds, her heart calmed down to the normal rate. The only voice heard was the doctor’s voice exclaiming “Welcome back, Kalya”, as she stated that she could not explain how she survived that.

I did not specifically apply for any location within the hospital. I feel there are many places in the hospital where a counselor-in-training can be placed. If I had to choose to three departments that I would be interested in working in would be the outpatient psychiatric department, inpatient psychiatric department, or in the cancer institute. The first two work with patients that are seeking direct support for either new symptoms of mental health condition or help with pre-existing conditions. Both locations give me the opportunity to work with mental health daily. Outpatient would give me the opportunity to work with clients that have a variety of symptoms where as the ones which would be inpatient would typically have more severe symptoms and need a more structure setting. I am also interested in working with your outpatient behavioral health team because you take an integrated approach to treatment. In addition to the integrated approach, I have interest in the workings of the TMS treatment of depression which is also something the outpatient

When thinking about the past 4 weeks in class I would say the expectation’s I came into the class with have been what I expected thus far. I did not come into Notes on Nursing with too many expectations, mainly because I wanted to have an open-minded about what the class could be about and the things I might learn. Yes, the class has met my goals I had set for the class That I had, along with that it helped me become more secure in my choice to be a nurse I was a little on edge in the beginning if nursing really was for me through the reading videos I have

I became trapped inside of the walls of Metro Health Hospital; there was no way out and no one to save me. On August 3, 2016, my boyfriend, Brady, was involved in a terrible car accident on Route 30. Brady was pinned inside of his truck under the weight of a larger truck and horse trailer. After he was freed from his truck, Brady was transported to Cleveland Metro Health Trauma Center by helicopter. My worst nightmare came to life that night in the West side of Cleveland because I had to watch my best friend fight for his life. The battle isn't over yet, but he has come a long way. Even though Metro Health Hospital had been the site of tragedy and despair, it has fortified my strength and my faith.

Working at a nursing home is like signing up to have someone break your heart over and over again. This was something that I was well aware of going into my job at St. James Place, but took on anyway. In my time at St. James Place, one specific patient stood out to me from the start, Mrs. Siakel. Mrs. Siakel used to be an outpatient of ours in the Triton Therapy office within the nursing home. She was 86 years old and still pretty independent, she walked everywhere and even had her own apartment on the far end of the campus. She was a petite thing, with the most radiantly joyous personality of anyone I had ever met. Mrs. Siakel came in every Thursday and as time went along we built an unspoken friendship, and before I knew it I was the only tech that the therapists would ask to help her because she would only work well with me. I loved my job, but Mrs. Siakel alone was the reason that I was excited to go back to work day after day.

Linda gingerly rolled onto her left side, taking all the strength and the will of her body not to fade back into unconsciousness, as she had been doing for the past few hours. Struggling, feeling each and every muscle in her fragile body moving like an unoiled and rusted machine, Linda winced with pain as she turned over. She was able to catch a glimpse of herself in the shattered personal mirror that now rested between her and her bag. The blood, which had once flowed through her scarlet veins, was now clinging to her face and body. Smearing her lips like poorly applied lipstick and covering her severely lacerated hands. The glow of the rising sun highlighted the wet mud glazed over Linda’s torn, long-sleeve, mulberry shirt. Vigilantly