I always knew I was going to be
nurse. I am intrigued by the human
anatomy and its intricacy, all the way down to the complex DNA. Following in my mother’s path, I pursued a
degree in nursing immediately out of high school. Even while in high-school I began taking the
prerequisites for the nursing program as night or summer courses at the local
community college. Although the summer
of 2005 offered me more than any nursing program ever could have on what is to
be a nurse. I had already completed my
first year of Nursing
School and had just one
more to go. Despite the challenges it
presented, some concepts can only be learned by wearing the gown of a
patient.
June 22nd was a busy day
that I spent with my younger sister driving around completing my list of
errands. I wanted to get to the gym before dinner time, so I said goodnight and
dropped her off. I stopped back at my
apartment to briefly grab my gym bag and off I went, back in the car. I didn’t
make it to the gym that evening. While
making a left turn through an intersection I was hit by a driver as he ran a
red light. My passenger side door was
smashed into the center console so that my head was banging against both
driver’s and passenger’s side windows.
With the banging of my head and the rotation from the impact I suffered
from what Doctors’ called a contra-coupe, diffuse axonal injury with subdural,
subarachnoid hematomas and an intraventricular hemorrhage.
Once help arrived I was intubated at
the scene but from my combativeness, extubated myself. Due to weakness I was unable to protect my
airway and was reintubated. I was flown by helicopter and admitted to
AtlantiCare, Atlantic City
hospital. There, I spent two weeks in
ICU, sedated on a propofol drip and ventilator-dependent. More often than not, I was on four-point
restraints because of my agitation. I
would flail my arms and legs banging them on the bed rails.
On July 5th, I was
transferred to trauma step down. By this
time I had a tracheostomy serving as my airway and received my nutrition
through a Percutaneous Endoscopic Gastrostomy (PEG) tube. Family would
stay at my bedside around the clock and prayed over me. I am told that I would briefly open my eyes
and inconsistently follow commands. Even
in the sleep of a coma, I continued the terrible habit of cracking my
knuckles.
On July 12th, I was
transferred from the hospital over to Betty Bacharach to begin my
rehabilitation. My first day at
Bacharach is the first time I had been sat up in a chair and showed signs of
awareness. This is the first day I can
remember of the whole summer. I couldn’t
support the weight of my head and had a head rest applied to the
wheelchair. My mom who had not seen me
yet that day, walked in freezing in the doorway of my room.
“Hi Mommy.” I struggled to use the vocal that were being
paralyzed by my trach. tube. Those were the first words I had spoken since June
22nd. She ran to me and
squeezed me covering my face with her kisses.
“Why are you crying Mommy?” I asked.
I didn’t understand what was happening.
I couldn’t understand. I would
ask repeatedly about what was happening.
Or I would ask why I wasn’t the same, and would understand for that
moment but have to ask again only minutes later.
That summer was filled with the tears
I cried every time I looked in the mirror and saw a tracheostomy in my
neck. Tears of the hunger pains I felt
that went unalleviated by tube feedings.
“Homesick” is how I would describe feeling the entire summer. Weeks were spent in physical therapy, speech
and occupational therapy. I had to learn
to walk again. My fine motor skills were
also impaired. To control the movement
of a pencil was difficult. Even to this
day running feels awkward. This is hard to accept since prior to the accident I
was running daily.
By August 1st, when I
eventually proved to my therapists and doctors I was strong enough to return
home independently I was discharged. It
was also recommended to take off from the approaching school year to recover
and recuperate. I, on the other hand,
had a different agenda. I wanted to be normal again so despite everything, I
jumped right back into school. It didn’t
take long for me to feel settled and I was soon replacing my Nursing 101 books
for Nursing 200. I knew and accepted the
challenge, but no one could have prepared me for the hours I would have to
dedicate to studying. I would have to
read and re-read chapters for endless hours.
Sometimes I would close a book for the night to pick it up in the
morning looking at the same pages as if I had never read them before. There wasn’t a moment that I didn’t have a
book in my hands for that entire semester as well as the following one. My grades had dropped but I was happy with
any grade that was passing. Teachers
were happy to accommodate my needs when I asked to test alone because I was too
distracted in a room with one hundred other students. They saw the effort I put
into all my studies and the desire I put into all of my clinical time. Not one other student wore the Nursing Cap
and Gown or recited the Nightingale Pledge as proudly as I did at Pinning and
graduation. I had survived!
My experience in the summer of 2005 made what
would have been just my occupation into my passion. My mom gave me the strength to continue my
education and overcome every challenge to make a difference in the lives of my
patients.
