"The pneumonia seems to be clearing up," Dr. Frank told me, "but the central line got infected, and now you have mycobacterial endocarditis. We might have to put in an artificial valve.”
I winced, “What’s my prognosis?" He sighed, “Honestly? Maybe fifty-fifty."
During the next two weeks as I fought off infection, I was acutely aware of how close I could be to my own death. As my health improved, I found myself reconsidering many things. Among these was that although I had been a nurse for over several years, I had been wanting to take another path for a long time, and I could no longer put it off.
When I began college, I was not sure what I wanted to do with my life, so I picked up various coursework—some for enjoyment, some to start a potential career. I realized from prior jobs that I enjoyed helping and directly interacting with a diverse population. Eventually, I decided to follow in my mother 's footsteps
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More than once I would ask for further details on a topic such as, “How does high blood sugar delay wound healing?” only to be told that it was not necessary to learn such details. However, I felt an innate need to know and understand. I soon learned that nursing is a field in and of itself, distinct from medicine. The nursing model views illness as a series of patient responses which can be modified using nursing interventions. The “how and why” of illnesses is not as relevant. I learned which medications would be ordered and how to administer them but not how they worked or what the nuances for choosing one over the other were for a certain patient. Nursing confirmed my inclination that serving others in a healthcare setting was the right pathway for me, but it was the beginning of when I felt as if I were consistently missing a piece of the puzzle in the patient care I yearned to provide. I started looking more towards physicians and observing their method of treatment and