NursingZen

     I’ve noticed that sometimes readers will leave responses and questions for other readers who have left comments on my entries. I’ve also left responses to reader comments at the end of entries and/or have emailed readers directly. However, it’s hard to know whether you’ve seen the responses.

Because I’ve always wanted this blog to help connect and support new and would-be nurses, I decided to integrate a robust “commenting engine” called Disqus (sound like “discuss”) into this blog. If you leave a comment, you’ll have to enter an email address, but your address will be hidden. You do not* have to “register” with Disqus to leave a comment. If anyone replies to your comment, you’ll get a notification, but your privacy will still be maintained.

I hope this feature will be useful to some of you. Thanks again for reading and chiming in once in a while!

I had a crap weekend.

Friday: Three of four patients, demented. Second medication error of my short career (alas, more on this in the upcoming Post of Shame). Went home 1-1/2 hours late.

Saturday: Literally up to my elbows in poop — cleaning diarrhea out of a 300-lb. bedbound patient four separate times. No care partner (nursing assistant) available on weekends. No break relief nurse available to me until 6 hours into my shift.

Sunday: Not a bad day, but exhausting because a demented patient required constant monitoring. No sitter or care partner available. More pooping from the bedbound patient. Went home a half hour late.

Monday: Since this day was my fourth in a row, I already knew two of my four patients (the demented one and the bedbound one, both with chronic heart failure) and by this day the demented one had a continuous sitter and the bedbound one was no longer having constant bouts of diarrhea. Although my patients were stable, I had a new admission in the middle of the shift at the same time that I had to manage a blood transfusion. Admissions throw everything off. I was flying in and out of rooms, up and down halls with hardly a breath. I got help from other nurses and used every time management skill and trick that I’ve collected over these four months, but they weren’t enough. At one point I took a chance on something because I was feeling desperate — and quickly knew it was the wrong corner to cut, but it was too late. I know I’ll be answering for it next week (to be continued in the Post of Shame). Went home 1-1/2 hours late.

The economic recession has become palpable as friends both within and outside of nursing have been unemployed for months now. Soon-to-be RNs are beginning to ask, “How did you find your job?,” but I’m afraid the answer isn’t helpful: It was 75% luck and 25% hard-headed determination (I’ve changed these percentages after protests about not giving ourselves more credit), because last year the job hunt was already frustrating. For every one new-grad position in the Bay area, we were told there were 200-plus applicants.

Looking back, I can’t find my story of how I found my acute care job. I thought I wrote about it, but I seemed to have left off at the tiresome job search. As I said, “For two weeks I gradually descended into an unnatural, feverish state as I churned out letters, e-mailed connections from two years ago, hovered around nurse manager’s offices, and called managers until someone picked up.”

Well, one day a manager did pick up her phone. I asked her if she had any positions for new grads.

Manager: “I actually do have one position open for 24 hours a week.”
Me (tone is ecstatic): “Can I please fax you my resume directly?”
Manager: “You should fax it to HR.”
Me (tone is urgent): “I have already, several times, but they keep telling me there aren’t any positions and you know how online applications just get lost in the shuffle. Can I please send it directly to you today?”
Manager (hesitates): Hmm, um, what school did you go to?”
Me: UCSF.
Manager: UCSF? Hm, OK. Fax it to me.

Within one week, I interviewed, and in the second week, got the offer. Did my nursing school make any difference? Perhaps. Was my urgency and persistence a factor? Probably. Did I happen to call the right person at the right time? Definitely.

Here’s another story that underscores the theory that this process is 75% luck and 25% hard-headed determination. During lunch today, a friend, who was in my MEPN class, retold how she found her job in pediatrics at UCSF. I’ve paraphrased her story here:

[My husband] says it wasn’t luck; he says I fought for the job, but I think it was mostly luck. I remember I’d already applied to many new grad (Peds) programs as early as December, but I hadn’t heard back from anyone. Then I heard that [classmate A, B, and C] all had interviews for the Peds program at UCSF. I was really baffled because none of them were going to specialize in Peds, but I am, and I applied early, online, because they [HR] said it was first come first served… More time passed and I learned that the classmates who got interviews all went to the managers’ offices.

I started to feel upset and frustrated because I’d done everything the recruiter assured me was the right thing to do, and I didn’t go to the managers because I was trying to respect their time, but still I wasn’t getting called. I wrote a long and up-front email to the recruiter bringing up this matter and the contradictions.I also went to see my advisor, who is a head person in the Peds units. I told her everything and asked her, ‘What is going on? What is the real process?’ I must have been really worked up because she immediately picked up the phone and called a Peds manager and said, ‘You have a couple positions coming up right? I have a student here and she is smart, committed …” etc. The positions had not been posted yet, but my advisor said I could arrange to see the manager.

Right after I left her office I decided to drop in on the manager, because I was determined. I happened to be in the elevator with her! Right away she said we could have a quick interview. After 10 minutes she said, ‘I like you. Come back for a formal interview.’ Within 10 days, I had my job. I couldn’t believe it.