Nursing School & Information Overload
This post has been a long time coming! I started nursing school in New York City earlier in June, and the program has been non-stop until the second week of August, when our summer quarter finally finished and we got let out for break. The past couple months were unlike any other educational experience I've ever had -- so much information jam-packed into the first 10-week section of an accelerated graduate program. Earlier today, I told my brother a little about how our classes were structured, to which he responded, "It should be illegal to have 4-hour classes." Outwardly, I expressed that they were doable, but I silently agreed with him.
It's an understatement to say it has been a transformative time. This is the first time I have ever lived so far away from my home in California. My first couple days after move-in consisted of me frantically texting students in the process of moving out, hoping to buy some secondhand furniture or home goods for cheap. I took the subway downtown and picked up a handful of items from Muji before school started, from pens to notebooks to a little laundry hamper. During the first month of class, I broke out in stress hives and rushed to Rite Aid in a panic to buy some oatmeal cream and Claritin in hopes that the combination would make the irritation go away. Thankfully, what I did worked, and my dilly-dallying at the medicine aisle certainly prepared me to answer all the antihistamine questions on my pharmacology final. The first time I experienced an allergic reaction like this, I was close to home. My parents were just a phone call away and seemed to have a good deal more expertise than I did. My mom gave me Benadryl and sent me straight to bed.
It's different being farther out. It feels more alone. It feels as if you have to be so much more stronger and resilient without the support of a community, reassuring yourself that you're doing fine until you're no longer doing fine. Even though there were a handful of friends I knew who lived in the city, there were also Fridays where I sighed to myself and knew I'd be occupied with studying for the entire weekend to prepare for two exams during the upcoming week. I tried to balance things out -- I'd take a walk up the street to the cute coffee shop and journal for a bit. I explored landmarks and new restaurants. I got to pet a very friendly dachshund at the dog park one time. But, as much as I did, I hit a wall by the 8th week when I found out a former coworker of mine passed away. He was my age -- in his mid-20s. I started sleeping more irregularly. Then, I found out a slew of shootings happened in the span of 48 hours, one of which was in my home state, and one of which was in my signifiant other's home state. Perhaps if I had stayed away from social media and the news cycle, my heart would not have ached so much. How paradoxical then, that the thread that kept me connected to the world I had removed myself from, had anchored me to sadness and loss. I'm reminded of a famous saying by Winnie the Pooh: "How lucky am I to have something that makes saying goodbye so hard."
I am wondering if it would do me well to disconnect from social media again. The Amazon rainforest is currently on fire, there are escalating tensions in Hong Kong and Kashmir, and the gun control debate was revived once again. I had not felt so hopeless in this way -- before, I had a steady income and more energy to share and advocate for things I cared about. In such an intensive program, I just don't have the capacity to do that anymore, and may need to find new ways of staying connected to the causes I support. What good is an information overload if it only makes me feel hopeless about my day to day life and the future of this planet? Almost ironically, I had been recommended a book called "Notes on a Nervous Planet" by Matt Haig, which somewhat confirmed my inclinations that my anxiety might improve if I step away from social media. Perhaps my nightmares -- my neighborhood flooding with black sooty water, or me yelling at the person in my passenger seat to pour water into the backseat patient's eyes while I sped the car away from the epicenter of a nuclear bomb, or me realizing I need to call 911 because a family member took the wrong medication -- maybe my nightmares would stop.
I did well academically this summer. But two patients in my clinicals had also died - one of cancer, the other of sepsis perhaps. I didn't witness the actual deaths, but I had seen both of these patients suffering and in a lot of pain. Maybe the processing got packed into the rest of the ideas that I am trying to process. They say that the first patient death you experience as a nursing student is the hardest and that everyone processes it differently. I don't exactly know if these deaths "count," but I'm certain that they prepare me, even if just a little, to handle a situation in which someone dies in front of me.
I missed California a lot. I missed the proximity of nature, of hiking trails, and of the Pacific Ocean. I missed the cool Mediterranean weather and my familiarity with the public transportation system. And so, I'm glad to be back. I got the chance to go hiking, to revisit my undergraduate college campus, to enjoy the view of the skyline, to get my teeth cleaned, to catch up with old friends, and to watch Netflix.
I'm not quite sure what this post is about. I know that a lot has happened, and although I'm the type of person to feel anxious about "not being productive" during this break, in some sense I am trying to justify that it's okay to focus on my mental health and take a big step back. This blog post doesn't have to be a work of art -- it can simply be a manifestation of my healing, as well as the wisdom that I'll gain about life.
Are you still reading? If you made it this far, I want to thank you for sticking with me. I know that life isn't easy, and transitions definitely are not easy. This was a very honest, raw post for me to write. I'm not going to sugarcoat what kind of emotions I felt, because that doesn't help me, and that doesn't give you, the reader, an accurate picture of what happened. I do think that being vulnerable is important. I'm allowed to feel sad and mourn for the things that I don't have much power over. To feel this way is to be human. My break is almost over, but I'm determined to continue getting the rest and rejuvenation that I deserve. My hope is that I can start the fall quarter strong and continue to ask myself how to balance things in my life in a healthy way.
It's an understatement to say it has been a transformative time. This is the first time I have ever lived so far away from my home in California. My first couple days after move-in consisted of me frantically texting students in the process of moving out, hoping to buy some secondhand furniture or home goods for cheap. I took the subway downtown and picked up a handful of items from Muji before school started, from pens to notebooks to a little laundry hamper. During the first month of class, I broke out in stress hives and rushed to Rite Aid in a panic to buy some oatmeal cream and Claritin in hopes that the combination would make the irritation go away. Thankfully, what I did worked, and my dilly-dallying at the medicine aisle certainly prepared me to answer all the antihistamine questions on my pharmacology final. The first time I experienced an allergic reaction like this, I was close to home. My parents were just a phone call away and seemed to have a good deal more expertise than I did. My mom gave me Benadryl and sent me straight to bed.
It's different being farther out. It feels more alone. It feels as if you have to be so much more stronger and resilient without the support of a community, reassuring yourself that you're doing fine until you're no longer doing fine. Even though there were a handful of friends I knew who lived in the city, there were also Fridays where I sighed to myself and knew I'd be occupied with studying for the entire weekend to prepare for two exams during the upcoming week. I tried to balance things out -- I'd take a walk up the street to the cute coffee shop and journal for a bit. I explored landmarks and new restaurants. I got to pet a very friendly dachshund at the dog park one time. But, as much as I did, I hit a wall by the 8th week when I found out a former coworker of mine passed away. He was my age -- in his mid-20s. I started sleeping more irregularly. Then, I found out a slew of shootings happened in the span of 48 hours, one of which was in my home state, and one of which was in my signifiant other's home state. Perhaps if I had stayed away from social media and the news cycle, my heart would not have ached so much. How paradoxical then, that the thread that kept me connected to the world I had removed myself from, had anchored me to sadness and loss. I'm reminded of a famous saying by Winnie the Pooh: "How lucky am I to have something that makes saying goodbye so hard."
I am wondering if it would do me well to disconnect from social media again. The Amazon rainforest is currently on fire, there are escalating tensions in Hong Kong and Kashmir, and the gun control debate was revived once again. I had not felt so hopeless in this way -- before, I had a steady income and more energy to share and advocate for things I cared about. In such an intensive program, I just don't have the capacity to do that anymore, and may need to find new ways of staying connected to the causes I support. What good is an information overload if it only makes me feel hopeless about my day to day life and the future of this planet? Almost ironically, I had been recommended a book called "Notes on a Nervous Planet" by Matt Haig, which somewhat confirmed my inclinations that my anxiety might improve if I step away from social media. Perhaps my nightmares -- my neighborhood flooding with black sooty water, or me yelling at the person in my passenger seat to pour water into the backseat patient's eyes while I sped the car away from the epicenter of a nuclear bomb, or me realizing I need to call 911 because a family member took the wrong medication -- maybe my nightmares would stop.
I did well academically this summer. But two patients in my clinicals had also died - one of cancer, the other of sepsis perhaps. I didn't witness the actual deaths, but I had seen both of these patients suffering and in a lot of pain. Maybe the processing got packed into the rest of the ideas that I am trying to process. They say that the first patient death you experience as a nursing student is the hardest and that everyone processes it differently. I don't exactly know if these deaths "count," but I'm certain that they prepare me, even if just a little, to handle a situation in which someone dies in front of me.
I missed California a lot. I missed the proximity of nature, of hiking trails, and of the Pacific Ocean. I missed the cool Mediterranean weather and my familiarity with the public transportation system. And so, I'm glad to be back. I got the chance to go hiking, to revisit my undergraduate college campus, to enjoy the view of the skyline, to get my teeth cleaned, to catch up with old friends, and to watch Netflix.
I'm not quite sure what this post is about. I know that a lot has happened, and although I'm the type of person to feel anxious about "not being productive" during this break, in some sense I am trying to justify that it's okay to focus on my mental health and take a big step back. This blog post doesn't have to be a work of art -- it can simply be a manifestation of my healing, as well as the wisdom that I'll gain about life.
Are you still reading? If you made it this far, I want to thank you for sticking with me. I know that life isn't easy, and transitions definitely are not easy. This was a very honest, raw post for me to write. I'm not going to sugarcoat what kind of emotions I felt, because that doesn't help me, and that doesn't give you, the reader, an accurate picture of what happened. I do think that being vulnerable is important. I'm allowed to feel sad and mourn for the things that I don't have much power over. To feel this way is to be human. My break is almost over, but I'm determined to continue getting the rest and rejuvenation that I deserve. My hope is that I can start the fall quarter strong and continue to ask myself how to balance things in my life in a healthy way.
Comments
Post a Comment