I Answered All 265 NCLEX Questions and I’m a Better Nurse For It

My legs itched.

I lifted the leg of my pants to scratch the hell out of my calf. I had gone for a walk outside the night before to try and preserve the zen I had been attempting to harness all day. It was mid-July and I must have forgotten to put on bug spray.

I had entered the testing room determined to slay this thing in 75 questions. Everyone I knew who had taken the test passed in 75 questions and said that, no matter what, you will walk out feeling like you failed. But no, not me. I was going to be different from everyone else. I was going to feel great. I mean, I was even wearing a shirt that said “knowledge is power.” I had this thing in the bag.

But the questions? They were HARD. Like, harder than trying to explain to my parents what a meme is.

I took my frustration out on my legs as I dug what was left of my nails into my skin. 75 questions came and went. When I got to 76 I thought, this HAS to be it. And then the same thing for 77. And 78. And 79. And then 100. Any question now it will shut off, I kept thinking. I just kept going, going, going. 150, 151, 152, 153. By the time I got to question 200, I knew I was in it for the long haul. I was going to answer every single question this beast had to offer.

Over four hours after I sat down to begin, my test shut off after question 265. Once my screen was blank I sat there for five minutes to let what I wouldn’t dare let myself think during the test sink in. I had failed. And if I didn’t fail, I obviously wasn’t as smart as I thought I was, being that it took me 265 questions to convince the NCLEX I was smart enough to be a nurse.

I looked down and my legs and arms were covered in hives. My body must be releasing histamine to fight off what it didn’t know was causing my cortisol levels to increase, I thought. See? I’m smart. So why so many questions? I whined inside my head.

Before I go on, I want to be very, very clear about something. In the grand scheme of life, I know this was just an exam. I understand that I was not waiting on test results that were going to tell me whether or not I had a terminal disease. And believe me, I know how blessed I am to have never experienced that kind of fear. All I can tell you is that all of my self-worth was riding on whether or not I passed this test. Rational? No, probably not. But neither am I.

I made it all the way to my car and managed to get my seatbelt on before I started crying like a second-grader who just found out Santa isn’t real. I powered my phone back on to find a slew of “good luck!” texts come through and I wanted to vomit. How was I going to tell all my friends and family that I failed this thing I had spent the last 2.5 years preparing for? I had so many people cheering me on and I was going to disappoint everyone.

The next 48 hours I spent waiting for my results were torture. I can’t tell you how to get through them, but I can tell you how I did. I can tell you that I spent an embarrassing number of hours watching Friends and New Girl. I can tell you that I went through several pints of Halo Top (and didn’t even have to feel guilty about it – score!). I can tell you that I went for a destination-less drive, rolled down all my windows, and sang every Taylor Swift song at the top of my lungs until I could no longer hear my own self-deprecating thoughts.

Here is the point I want to drive home: I managed to stay relatively calm throughout the four-plus hours of this exam. I thoroughly read each question and every answer choice and went with the best option. I thought that passing in 75 questions was going to make me a good nurse but I have never been more wrong about anything.

You know what part about this NCLEX experience makes me a good nurse? The fact that I was able to adapt to an unanticipated change in the scenario and act accordingly. The fact that I was able to carry on in a high-stress situation (despite the hives – but what’s a little itching on your lower extremities, eh?). Yes, I have OCD. Yes, I am semi-Type A. And yes, the fact that this didn’t go according to my plan really pissed me off. But guess what? Situations in the hospital rarely go according to plan and to be a good nurse, you have to know that and go with it.

I know there are other students and aspiring nurses out there in similar situations like mine and I want you to know this: the number of questions you have to answer on NCLEX do not denote whether you failed or passed and it certainly does not determine what type of nurse you are going to be. Do you understand that? Read it again. Read it as many times as you have to, and please, know that it is true.

Oh, and by the way, I passed.

Sincerely,

Alexa, RN

How I Turned Sour Lemons into Something Resembling Lemonade

The ventilator sounded like a pinball machine.

It was an odd sound, really, to hear in the Surgical Intensive Care Unit. The sudden-ness of it startled me from my semi-conscious state. I had been curled up in a guest chair in the corner of the room holding on to last week’s copy of People magazine.

“Hey Danny,” I had said earlier, “do you want to hear about Taylor Swift or Jennifer Aniston?” My hope was that if I annoyed him enough, he would wake up and tell me to stop.

I got up and poked my head into the hall to see Christine, Danny’s night nurse, charting at the computer.

“That machine,” I groggily said, “is going off again.” I had asked her about it earlier. It was a funny sound. It made me think that maybe it sounded that way so visitors didn’t immediately panic, thinking something had gone awry. But any sound coming from the machines hooked up to my comatose cousin jolted what was left of my nerves.

Christine followed me back in, telling me, once again, that the noise meant he needed to be suctioned, not that he was crashing like I pessimistically thought.

I resumed my position in the chair next to Danny’s bed and looked up at the clock. It was 2:30am. The SICU was the last place I ever expected to be at this hour on a Friday night.

I sighed and let the time sink in before I closed my eyes again. At this time, just one week earlier, the accident had already happened. I hadn’t known yet. I was sleeping, completely unaware that my dad was about to answer a phone call that would change everything.

On April 19, 2014, my older cousin was critically injured when a drunk driver drove into the back of his police vehicle. He suffered several life-threatening injuries including a traumatic brain injury, multiple skull fractures, a collapsed lung, two broken vertebrae, and broken ribs.

The doctors didn’t know if he would live through the first 24 hours. In fact, he wasn’t supposed to. But despite the severity of his injuries, despite the warnings that a happy ending might not be ahead, despite the doctors’ prognosis that in order to survive he needed “a miracle and a lot of luck,” he pulled through.

At the time, we all thought that if we could just get through that first day we might be in the clear. We had no idea what the journey that lay ahead was going to entail.

Over the next 47 days that my cousin spent in the SICU, my family gathered there every day. It seems surreal, when I think about it now, the routine that we all had adopted. After the initial shock of the accident when many of us had to go back to work, we would still all gather in the hospital waiting room in the evenings and on the weekends. It started to feel like a haven to me. It was the one place where I could go where I knew everyone felt as crappy as I did.

During this time, I was able to tether together the medical lingo I overheard. I spent night after sleepless night up in bed, Googling every word so that I could understand what was happening to him. I read scholarly article after scholarly article on traumatic brain injuries as fiercely as I have read New York Times best-selling novels. I had discovered this unquenchable thirst for knowledge that I hadn’t known was lying dormant inside of me.

Then one day, when I walked into Danny’s room, those numbers and lines on his monitor weren’t just numbers and lines anymore. I saw that his blood pressure was still too high without having to ask his nurse. I knew that his intracranial pressure was also incredibly too high, and moreover, I understood what intracranial pressure was. I was learning. That thirst was awakened now, and inside of me I could feel it screaming more, more, more.

Meanwhile, Danny had become famous. His picture kept gracing the covers of local newspapers and morning news shows, encouraging Facebook statuses and Instagram posts. But to me, he was still just the person I called the night before my high school graduation because I had gotten into a fight with my boyfriend. He was the one who wouldn’t let me drive to our grandmother’s wake when I had just gotten my driver’s permit weeks before because he (half-jokingly) said that one death in the family at the moment was enough. He was the person who mocked the way I held my knife and fork during every single meal we ate together because, according to him, I looked like a Neanderthal. He was the person who teased and antagonized me at any opportunity and I loved him for it.

FullSizeRender 2 — Me and Danny, nearly a year after the accident, celebrating his 40th birthday.

He wasn’t just this famous cop who was battling for his life. He was my family. And to his SICU nurses, he was a father, a husband, a son, a brother, a nephew, an uncle, a cousin, and a friend. They saw the person he was beyond what the news had said about him because they listened to the stories we told about him. They held our hands while we cried. They hugged us when we arrived and left. They had therapy sessions with us when we were running out of hope. They became our family, too.

Though I hadn’t mentioned it right away, it was early after the accident that I had figured out what I wanted to do with my life. I want to take care of two kinds of people: those who are sick and injured, as well as their families – not because Danny survived, but because so many people don’t.

I used to live my life by the saying, “everything happens for a reason.” I still try to. Some days are harder than others. It’s hard to believe there’s a purpose when bad things happen to good people and the worst people in the world often float through unscathed.

It bothers me. It hurts my heart and soul in a way I didn’t know was possible. But I found the way to get through it.

I want to help save those that I can, and do everything possible to try and save those who cannot. I want to give hugs to grieving and mourning families. I want to tell them jokes to help them through the day. I want to hold patients’ hands as they go through the worst times of their lives.

And that’s why this entire experience has led me to devote my life to care for others as a nurse.

5 Things Nursing School and Barre Have in Common

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It hit me as I faceplanted into the beige carpet beneath me.

After a two-minute static hold plank, I thought I was dying. Everything hurt and I wanted to vom, but, strangely, I also felt exhilarated. And then, as I was wiping away what I could no longer differentiate between sweat and tears, I thought to myself, “hey, this feels a lot like nursing school.”

At 29 years old, it’s safe to say I’ve spent a significant portion of my twenties at the bar. But at the barre? Not so much.

I first heard about barre classes about five years ago. They were this trendy new thing in the city designed to give you a dancer’s bod. Remembering what I looked like at seven years old in a pink leotard and tights trying, but failing, to turn my feet out to second position was enough to send me running for the hills. So I mulled it over for a good 5-10 seconds and then cut my losses and continued eating my sandwich.

But a few months ago while I was talking to a diabetic patient about how he needed to change his diet for the sake of his health, I really started to think about my own. Now, I have never been the epitome of health, but I have tried to watch what I eat for a while. And when I say “watch what I eat,” I mean I like to stare down at a double bacon cheeseburger as I’m inhaling it.

But, seriously. I needed to get my ass in gear. How could I spew out advice to people about how important it is to diet and exercise if I didn’t do it myself? I can’t preach what I don’t practice (which is why I’m becoming a nurse and not a doctor. HA! Just kidding. Kind of.).

So, I found this bike + barre studio a few months ago that’s close to where I live and I decided to give it a try. I started right after Christmas to get a head start on my New Year resolutions. (Just kidding. I don’t believe in New Year resolutions. I don’t understand what it is about opening a new calendar that makes people think they’re going to be better humans for the next 365 days. But anyway, I digress.)

If you live anywhere in the Bergen County, NJ area I strongly suggest you check out One Love Bike + Barre. The classes are amazing and the instructors are phenomenal. I have never in my life gotten my ass kicked like I do at these classes. I mean, I was sore in places I didn’t even know had muscle and I got an A in Anatomy & Physiology.

But seriously, I’m obsessed. I also just LOVE the studio. It has a such a friendly, homey feel. I really can’t say enough good things about it AND all the people that go/work there. And believe me, for me to say this about a place where exercise occurs, means a lot.

BUT, as great as it might be, barre and nursing school both still kick my ass on a daily basis and in strangely similar ways:

They’re both hard as f*%$. Like, harder than you could have ever anticipated. In fact, I had to run out of the middle of my first barre class to dry heave in the bathroom. (Like I said, I was never the epitome of health, so stop judging me, k?) And I definitely had a panic attack during my first nursing class, and almost every class thereafter. They’re hard, but isn’t everything that’s worth anything?
You get out what you put in. This is probably so cliché but it’s so true. I remember someone saying this about three weeks into my first semester of nursing school. If you don’t do the work, you’re not going to do well. It’s as simple as that. The same goes for barre, or any workout class for that matter. If you don’t work hard, or slack off every time you think the instructor isn’t watching, then what are you even going for? I’m not saying I don’t ever come down off my tippy toes to give my inner thighs some relief (because I actually do that every 5 seconds or so), but after I do, I get right back up.
You should be focusing on you. Sometimes this is a hard one, but it’s super important. There’s always going to be someone better than you at something. That’s the way it goes. But you really shouldn’t be competing with anyone when it comes to either of these things. So what if the person in front of you did better on your patho exam? And so what if the chick next to you can tuck like it’s her job while your tucks are a little, eh, not so very good looking. Whatever. Just keep tucking.
They push your limits. Physically, emotionally, psychologically, and mentally. But…
You keep going. Even when you don’t want to. Even when you think you can’t. You dig your toes a little deeper, raise your chin a little higher, push your shoulders a little further back, and keep going. Why? Because you can.

So, have I officially deterred you from ever trying barre or nursing? I hope not. I mean, what’s the fun in doing something easy, anyway?

Why You Should Change Your Mind Once, Twice, or a Thousand Times

Before the age of 27, I never once uttered to a single soul that I wanted to be a nurse. To be honest, the thought never even crossed my mind. So, when I said I was quitting “the best job ever” to go to nursing school, it came as a bit of a shock to ~~a few~~ many people.

The truth is, eighteen (or in my case, seventeen) is a really, really young age to decide what the hell you want to do with the rest of your life.

I mean, really. Don’t believe me? Look at things you posted on Facebook ten years ago and see how bad you feel about yourself.

Yeah, those kids are supposed to pick what they want to do for the next forty-something years and stick with it.

I’ve always heard the saying that people never change but I think that’s one-hundred percent false. I mean, I don’t believe a person can really change who they are at their core, but they do change. If we didn’t, I’d still be shopping at Abercrombie & Fitch (and thank the lord those days are gone).

So, what I’m saying is, it’s okay to realize that the career path you had chosen for yourself isn’t really what you want after all. And it’s okay to wake up next to the person you thought you were going to marry and realize they actually aren’t “the one” for you. And it’s even more okay to do something about those feelings instead of settling for them.

Is it scary to make a huge, life-altering change? Yes. But you know what’s scarier? Mediocrity.

Right before I resigned I had cold feet. And I’m talking, standing at the back of a church in a big white puffy dress hyperventilating into a paper bag kind of cold feet.

I was scared of so many things, I couldn’t even list them all on a pro/con list (because obviously I made a list, what kind of PR person do you think I was?).

What if I didn’t like it? What if I waste all my money? What if I’m not smart enough? What if I’m not good enough? What if I can’t hack it? What if I regret it?

All these questions plagued me, especially the last one. I would have given anything for someone to make the decision for me. But I knew I had to do it, so I put on my big girl pants (from J Crew, because that’s so much more mature) and jumped anyway. And now, the only thing that scares me is how close I was to not taking that leap at all.

Changing your mind, and even more – changing your life, builds character. It helps you become a new, better, different person. It’s how you lead the life you want and escape from being complacent.

I can’t promise that it will be easy but I can promise you that it will be worth it.

People always ask me if I miss my former life. And I do. I miss the city. I miss my co-workers. Most of all, I miss Tomato Cheddar soup from the Hale & Hearty a block away from my office.

But I don’t miss it in the way that I wish I never left. I miss it just enough. It’s the good kind of miss it. The kind that lets you know that what you had was worthwhile, but okay to say goodbye to.

And you really can’t ask for more than that.

Why One of the Best Days of My Life Was Spent in a Gym

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I know what you’re probably thinking.

With a title like that, you probably think I wake up in the morning ready to down a protein shake and hurry up to the gym for a sick workout.

This couldn’t be farther from the truth. I consider cardio to not only be the purest form of torture I could inflict upon myself but also the cruelest one.

Don’t get me wrong. I do go to the gym. And I always, always, always feel awesome when I leave. And I’ve never regret a work out. Blah, blah, blah. You know, all that inspiring crap you read about on other people’s IG accounts. But I generally always have to bribe myself to get there.

But on the morning of Sunday, Feb. 12, I jumped (okay, rolled – but more quickly than usual) out of bed and was actually excited to go to the gym. This was because I was participating in Cycle for Survival at the Equinox gym in Rockefeller Center.

In case you’re not familiar, Cycle for Survival is an indoor cycling event by Memorial Sloan Kettering Cancer Center and Equinox that raises money for rare cancer research. Rare cancers include ALL PEDIATRIC CANCERS, brain, pancreatic, ovarian, thyroid, and stomach cancers, as well as leukemia and lymphoma, among others. 100% of every single cent donated to this cause is directly allocated to rare cancer research at MSKCC within six months of the events.

Since the first event in 2007, Cycle for Survival has raised over $125 million which has funded The Center for Hematologic Malignancies at MSKCC, Sarcoma research, The David M. Rubenstein Center for Pancreatic Cancer Research, The Marie-Josée and Henry R. Kravis Center for Molecular Oncology, Ovarian Cancer Research, and more.

This cause is important to me for several reasons:

I’m not only working on becoming a nurse, but hopefully a pediatric oncology and/or critical care nurse (and a kickass one at that).
Only 4% of U.S. federal funding goes to childhood cancer research. That is insane. We need to change that.
My grandma – who was truly a saint on earth – died from ovarian cancer (considered a rare one) at a super young age, and I can’t help but think that with more treatment options, she could have lived longer.
I have yet to meet many people whose lives have not been affected by cancer in some capacity, and I believe, with every fiber of my being, that we will one day reach a point where scientists discover a cure for cancer. But that cure requires research. And research is expensive.

So, with some of the most selfless and amazing girls I have ever met (pictured above), I cycled to propel MSKCC’s journey in finding a cure for cancer. And it was amazing.

The four-hour event consisted of four one-hour rides, as well as speakers who were brave enough to share their cancer journeys with us. The speakers included MSKCC doctors and patients, as well as family of MSKCC patients, both living and deceased. They were some of the most incredible people I’ve ever come into contact with, and I consider myself lucky to have stood in the same room as them.

If you want to get involved in this amazing cause, and I hope you do, you can visit my page: http://mskcc.convio.net/goto/alexabreslin. Donations will be accepted until April.

And let me be clear here: this isn’t me trying to meet my donation goal (although that would be nice) or trying to raise the most funds so I can say I did. I think that we need to advance our knowledge when it comes to cancer, and the way we do that is by funding research through great initiatives like this one.

So, here’s to another year closer to shutting cancer down for good.

7 Things To Do When You’re Feeling Overwhelmed AF

No matter what semester of nursing school you’re in – whether it be your first, last, or midway point – we’re a few weeks in now, and there’s a pretty good chance you’re feeling a tad overwhelmed. Being that I’m in my last semester, I can’t help thinking about my first. I’ve told so many people that it was so hard, if I had to do it again, I’m not sure that I could. But thinking about it now, I’m not sure that’s entirely true.

I remember my first exam run. Three exams in three weeks and it was a nice pathophysiology sandwich. But in addition to studying, there were still papers to write, discussion postings to post, med terms and IV drip equations to be memorized, care plans to create, and hundreds upon hundreds of pages to be read. This is one of the hardest realizations of nursing school: the rest of your classes do not stop because you have an exam coming up.

Yes, my to-do list was longer than Santa’s naughty list the year Paris Hilton’s sex tape was released. Overwhelmed doesn’t even begin to describe the insurmountable feelings of trepidation I felt (and still feel) knowing how much there is to do and how you really need to know your stuff – because, remember why you’re here, you’re going to save lives.

And with anything, there were some things I did that worked, and a bunch of things I did that didn’t. And like any good PR girl, I made a list of key learnings, and maybe they’ll help you. So, here they are:

1. Get a planner. This is the best advice I could ever give anyone in school. If you strangely have something against planners get a plain notebook and turn it into the planner. It doesn’t have to be anything fancy – I got mine for $10 at Target and let me tell you, it was the best 10 bucks I have ever spent. My planner is more important to me than my left foot. I put EVERYTHING in it. Do you realize how many balls you’re constantly juggling in nursing school? Do you realize how much extra stress and anxiety you put on yourself by trying to remember all these balls you have up in the air? You’re stressed enough and as you’ve learned (or will learn soon), cortisol isn’t good for anyone.

You have to do whatever you possibly can to alleviate whatever stress you can and I’m telling you, it all starts with a planner. I write down every little thing I have to do whether it’s writing a paper, practicing vitals, or taking a shower, because believe me, you’re going to forget to do that and it’s something many people aren’t very forgiving of. But writing it down is only half the game. You have to abide by the deadlines you set for yourself, too. You know what they say, you can’t spell planner without plan. Or maybe I just say that. Whatever.

2. Make time for yourself. People will tell you to do this and if you’re anything like me you’ll roll your eyes, silently scoff, and think you know everything. Well, you’re wrong. I didn’t see the light of day for five days before my first patho exam and couldn’t tell you the last time I washed my hair or put on a pair of pants that didn’t have an elastic waistband. My gym membership was just eating up my credit card, and sleep – what was sleep?

I did everything wrong. If I did anything besides study I felt guilty, but listen to me, you have to take study breaks. I’ve since started a routine where I’ll study for an hour or so straight and then reward myself with an episode of New Girl or Friends. Without commercials on Netflix they’re about 20-22 minutes each which is the perfect amount of time for you to rest your mind for some mindless entertainment and reboot.

3. Make your health a priority. For a significant amount of time I was eating peanut butter out of the jar and string cheese for every meal. And guess what? It got to me. By the day before my first exam I felt like absolute and total shit. My body was actually craving green vegetables which I didn’t know was possible for someone who considers breakfast meat to not only be its own food group, but the most important one.

And listen, I love coffee as much as any other basic B. I don’t even always need it for the caffeine, I just enjoy it so damn much. There’s something about it that makes me feel like someone is giving me a warm hug from the inside the moment it hits my GI tract. But I was drinking cup after endless cup (and when I say cup, I’m talking 12 oz – not 8). I was surely dehydrated because I wasn’t drinking water and the water I was drinking was cancelled out by the caffeine.

Here’s what I’m getting at and read this as many times as you need to until it sinks in: you NEED to take care of yourself. You will not perform your best on exams if you’re exhausted, dehydrated, and washed out of nutrients. Trust me on this one – I learned it the hard way.

Oh, and also, don’t forget that you’re going into a HEALTHCARE profession. So sitting on your ass all day, eating junk food, getting no exercise or sunlight or vitamin D really isn’t going to cut it. You know the old saying, practice what you preach? Yeah, live by it.

4. Make a group of friends. And preferably, befriend the smart people. But in all seriousness, make a friend. Make ten. These people are your most valuable resource. If you don’t know something, chances are somebody else does. And no one understands what you are going through better than these people. I don’t care if you’re shy. I don’t care if you don’t consider yourself a people person and prefer to socialize with your cats. Put on your big girl (or boy) panties and start chatting with your classmates. I have made several really, really good friends in this program and they have been my lifeline more times than I could ever count.

5. Work together. #4 is a prerequisite, but working together is a must. And it’s not always in the same capacity that you might think. A lot of people study in groups but that doesn’t work for everybody. Plus, people tend to go off on tangents while studying and before you know it, three hours have passed by and all you’ve learned is that sally so and so just put her dog down and wants to break up with her boyfriend. Unfortunately, (or perhaps fortunately, however you want to look at it) that’s not going to be on your exam. I’ve worked with classmates virtually and in-person. We split up chapters and share our notes which makes the study guide process a teeny bit easier. Plus, the camaraderie we formed by doing so brought us closer together.

6. Trade in social media for more productive apps. Have you ever found yourself with some time on your hands and nothing to do? Super rare in nursing school, I know, but hear me out. Whether you’re waiting at the doctor’s office or online at Dunkin Donuts, you naturally pull out your phone and start cruising through your newsfeed. I used to do this ALL THE TIME and didn’t even know why. Then I deleted the Facebook app and my life changed.

Have you ever heard of Quizlet? I don’t think it was around the first time I was in college (not that I did all that much studying back then) but let me tell you, it’s a Godsend. I live through index cards. Mead stock has probably gone up since I went back to school because I go through so many. Quizlet allows you to make index cards online and you can access them on your computer, or more conveniently, through the app. So the next time you find yourself with a few minutes, start scrolling through. Every single minute of the day is precious when you are in nursing school, and if you’re in an accelerated program like me, every waking minute really isn’t enough. Sure you will miss out on what your ex-boyfriend’s sister’s father-in-law’s neighbor did in Spain two weeks ago, but that’s probably not going to be on your exam either.

There are also awesome apps like NCLEX RN Mastery, NCLEX-RN Pocket Prep, and UWorld NCLEX that will send you daily NCLEX-style questions for practice. These are super helpful because you can never do enough practice questions. Believe me, I know how limited your iPhone storage space is, but what’s really important here? Some are free and some cost a few bucks but they’re all totally worth it.

7. Remember why you started in the first place. I know it’s terribly cliché of me to throw a positivity line at you at this point in the post but seriously. When you’ve hit your worst point (and you will – many, many times), remember why you want to be a nurse. Think about what it was that brought you to this point.

Whether I didn’t do as well as I thought I would on an exam, or I’m having serious FOMO because my friends are out on a Saturday night and I’m home studying, or I’m feeling that everything is just TOO MUCH, I think about why I wanted to be a nurse in the first place and how badass it’s going to feel once I actually am. And then I suck it up, and keep going.

Why Quitting My Dream Job is the Best Decision I Ever Made

I wish I had one of those cliché stories where I can tell you I’ve known what I’ve wanted to do with my life for as long as I could remember. But the truth is, for the majority of my life, I had no clue. I envied those who did. Those people who applied to a certain school on their college applications knowing full well who they wanted to be when they graduated – you guys all made me sick. I mean, I was super happy for you. But also sick.

The truth is, I took a leap of faith by going to college in New York City, knowing that I wanted to do something glossy and high-profile (most likely for the wrong reasons) and prayed to the high heavens it would work out so I wouldn’t have to hide my face behind a computer at some super boring 9-5 job (not that there’s anything wrong with that).

And then during the second semester of my freshman year at a little artsy school on the Upper East Side, I was asked to do a favor for a friend’s sister and help out at a teeny tiny Public Relations firm for the day. It worked out.

I consider myself a pretty average person. I don’t have any astounding talents other than the amount of donuts I can eat in one sitting or how many sarcastic remarks I can spew out in 90 seconds. But, as it turned out, I was pretty good at this job.

So, I worked in your standard run of the mill sweatshop PR agency for about two years before I landed my dream job. I was hired by the agency that was considered the Tom Brady of PR. If you wanted to work in the communications field, this is where you wanted to work. And after two grueling months of interviews, grammar and spelling tests, and an essay I had to write, they took me on.

I loved this job more than I could possibly tell you. And I don’t mean that in an annoying way. I truly loved it. I didn’t dread waking up in the morning and going to work because I liked what I did there and truth be told, I was good at it. Like, really good at it. And who doesn’t like doing something they’re constantly being praised for? I am a millennial, after all.

But seriously, it was everything I had wanted. Until it just wasn’t. While I once fell into bed after an eighty-hour week planning an event with a half million-dollar budget to be exceptionally rewarding, I didn’t feel that way anymore. I started falling into bed feeling mundane, blasé, and somewhat useless.

And then, a very short time after I started getting the itch to do something else, something happened to somebody very, very important to me. There’s a short and a long story to it. One day I’ll share the long story. But for now, let me say this: the experience I went through with my family shook the foundation of everything I had ever believed in. The incident and its aftermath literally changed everything to the point where I didn’t even know who I was anymore, but I knew this for certain: I wasn’t the same person I was before.

And when that happens – when you go to sleep one night thinking you know who you are and where you belong in this world and then wake up the next morning realizing you were completely and utterly wrong – what do you do?

Well, I don’t know. But I can tell you what I did.

I knew I wanted to do something where I could help people hands-on but it was that combined with my sudden infatuation with medicine (thanks to the severe and debilitating injuries a family member faced- but more on that later) that not only led me to nursing, but left me no other choice.

So, I took another leap of faith. I quit my job. I crawled back into my mom and dad’s house where I literally swore up and down years earlier I would never live again. I enrolled in the pre-requisite courses necessary to apply to nursing school. I turned my life upside down.

None of it has been easy. At times it has actually been horrendous. But you know what? It is literally – without question – the best decision I have ever made in my entire life.

Why?

Because I’m going to be a nurse.

From PR to ER

PR Girl Turned Nurse

Author: fromprtoer