When I was a teenager, I wanted to be nurse but any hope of a medical career was dashed when I fainted as I watched a doctor stitch up a kid's cut. As I lay under the lights in the procedure room, the physician suggested I pursue another line of work.
My retirement date was determined by my husband's knee replacement surgery scheduled for the end of April. Having gone through the surgery twice myself, I knew that support at home is critical to a successful recovery. Bob's surgery was performed yesterday, and this is my second day at the hospital, where activities seem to be centered around various bodily functions, all of them disgusting to someone as squeamish as I.
My stomach has already lurched so much that I'm already doing the countdown to Monday, when the patient is released from the hospital. I've already warned Bob that level of service will diminish when he gets home, and nurse's aide duties will not be included in the overall package. My future is full of opportunities but home nursing is not one of them.
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