An Ode To My Scrubs

Yesterday was an important day.

Yesterday, I honored the 23rd anniversary of my sister Alison's death.

Yesterday, I took my final pharmacology exam (open note!).

And yesterday, I wore my navy blue Nursing Program scrubs for the final time.

There are a lot of transitions happening now: professional, educational, personal. I couldn't see that far into the future when, in the summer of 2016, I excitedly snagged two scrub tops and two bottoms, posturing in the dressing room window, imagining the endless wild scenarios I'd encounter as a student nurse.

I don't want no scrubs..well, I kinda did

And was it wild? Sure. Endless? Sometimes. Sometimes it was terrifying.

Sometimes I would stay up until 2am, writing my clinical notes, too wired to sleep.

Sometimes I would try to verbalize my shift to Phil and Norah, or text my mother after getting report, but there was too much going on in my brain to get there.

In the second year, there were mornings when I blearily grabbed my scrubs from the previous day off the floor, dressing in the dark, wondering how I'd manage to complete my CLEW or SBAR reports in time for my clinical instructor.

And while it sometimes moved slowly, it was always meaningful.

In these navy scrubs I found the importance of holding a patient's hand during an exploratory procedure.

I learned how to navigate a seemingly difficult family member, getting to the heart of their apprehension over their loved one.

In these scrubs, the tops worn out, now a little more snug than they were in my first semester, I delivered important medications to one patient, while monitoring the vitals of another across the hall.

I can't even guess how many miles I walked; answering call bells, getting supplies, ambulating a fresh post-op.

But it all pales in comparison to what's coming next.

So long, and thanks for all the caths

These scrubs will be dropped in a box, donated to the next student (I swear, they're freshly washed and I was never in a C. diff room without PPEs..well, there was ONE time but it was for like a second), and off to find new adventures with different patients and staff.

But the hands-on experiences I've had will tailor the future, and I can't wait for it.

Class of 2018 (for the most part)

Psych Class On Steroids

I've been thinking a lot about the effects of self-esteem and status.

("Oh Rach, you're so lofty, you MUST have an elevated sense of self!", you may be thinking.

"Lulz," I reply.)

I am Jack's Sardonic Blog Post

Back when I was hustling in auditions (when I could), I would get typed out pretty quickly. It didn't matter if I sang better than the girl next to me, I never found the appropriate aesthetic that worked with whatever character I would read for.

Despite attempts at interviews, auditioning, applying to audition, applying to apply to audition, I rarely got to the final chance of actually proving my abilities on stage.

Except when I did, and was intentionally embarrassed (looking at you, America's Got Talent).

Actual image of Howie Mandel in a wig

Those years of professional emptiness take a toll on a person. You start to believe that you're not worth the time of a panel of judges, and you begin to tailor your life and career with that low self-esteem. This in turn, changes the perception of the people around you, altering your status.

I knew I was talented. I knew I was smart. But I never appeared talented enough, smart enough, thin enough, [insert adjective here] enough for whatever was in front of me.

In a word, it was grueling.

Just hanging out, looking for my niche, being extra

I only talk about this feeling of personal insufficiency because I feel the same nasty little emotional spider crawling up my neck as I apply for RN positions.

What do you mean, "Reviewed, Not Accepted"? Did you not even read my process recording? Do you even interview, bro? I have yards of charisma, meters!

I AM THE FREAKING VP 5K PERSON, y'all! Bask in my answering of questions!

Just kidding, I'm a cucumber with social anxiety

When I decided to go to nursing school, I took a step back from performing to sweep hair. That took a lot of ego integrity, and it's a struggle to keep myself mentally steady as I fetch coffees.

Every day is a balancing act to make our life work around our present situation. And I'm stuck in this weird emotional space where I don't know if I'm ever going to be good enough/smart enough/enough enough. But what does that even mean? What would enough even look like?

So, here's the ultimate question...

How do you teach yourself to deserve more? And will that change how others see you?

......

Go ahead, I'm waiting.

Maybe there's no answer. Maybe we're all just trying to get by doing the bare minimum of damage to those around us, day by day, until we get a hospice consult.

But while we ponder, I'm going to work on elevating my internal mental status. Because you, they, we..are worth more than our insecurities.

We are improbable combinations of dust and electricity that got together on a rock hurtling through space. We are freaking magic.

Never doubt that there's a reason you're here to get drunk, fornicate, fall in love, have babies, and die