Essay On The Capping Ceremony

Eighteen years ago, I stood beside 52 other women in starched white dresses; hair pinned up tightly, and on our heads sat a bright white Dutch-style winged cap with our college’s ribbons across the brim. The black band was the symbol of the graduate nurse (soon to be registered nurse) and a thinner maroon ribbon, the color of my school, above it. If caps were still worn in the hospital today, a nurse's cap would identify her alma mater to her colleagues, patients, and physicians. “The Capping Ceremony” was extremely significant, in keeping with the pride felt by the recipients of the hard-earned caps. Because a nurse's cap had to be earned, it was highly coveted and bestowed upon its wearer the prestige of an educated, self-supporting woman outside of the hospital and a well-trained, respected, and committed professional within. The cap really meant something; it was a symbol of pride and the nurse wearing it cared about it and what it stood for. Although still a symbol of pride and achievement, a cap does not make a nurse. The work that it took to earn that cap, the hours of learning and long shifts in the hospital, are the true the makings of the professional Registered Nurse.

I have always been determined to be the best nurse I can be, to be a person of assurance for the patient, to be confident in my skills and abilities to help the patient. Most importantly, I strive to be the patient’s advocate and champion for their health and well-being during a time when they cannot do it for themselves. I firmly believe it is the nurse, who has to be 100% committed and who has empathy and compassion, that makes the best nurse and can make the most dramatic difference in a patient’s life when they are most vulnerable. That is my dream, my goal, to be a nurse a patient can truly rely on, and to do my best to hone my medical skills and