How my First Summer as a CNA Changed Me, for the Better.

It's been a long time since I've taken a moment to myself to reflect upon where I am at in life, and if that present day image is one I am pleased with - or if I need to make adjustments to be nearer to the ever elusive level of self actualization. This past summer, I participated in a Certified Nursing Assistant course and received my certification. It took place at a nursing home that I have worked at for approximately the last four-five years. Prior to the class, my positions included that of a Certified Feeding Assistant, Activities Assistant, Ward Clerk, and for a short period of time, Prep Cook. These positions gave me the chance to fall in love with the residents and their personalities - giving me a glimpse into their playful side, their histories, and their prejudices, not only towards myself, but towards others within the facility. Making the transition to more clinical care, ie. assisting with hygiene, ambulation, transfers, as well as the more menial tasks such as turning on the tv, handing a resident the telephone, or even filling up a water jug, I was allowed to fall in love with them all over again.

I would arrive around 6am, my eyes barely open, starving because  I had slept in and didn't have time to eat breakfast. I generally would work the same wing, taking care of the same group every morning. As all humans do, the residents have routines. They are particular, stubborn, and have a preference for anything and everything you could think of. All the makings to create a frustrating and time consuming situation. But, as I entered the room of my first charge, softly urging them to wake with a pleasant good morning - my energy levels surged as their eyes opened and their voice groaned in a reluctance to get up. I would laugh, encouraging them to get ready with me. Every hair in place, a well chosen outfit, and fresh breath - ready to take on the day, whether it be for a family visit, a group activity, or simply strolling around the facility. Repeat. Four, five, or even six more times, until every resident was awake.

Around 8am, it was time for breakfast - and the residents knew that, yet another routine that had been ingrained and unchangeable. If you were behind, they would notice because their toast and eggs came at 8:10, instead of the usual 8:05. Some residents would console you, saying that it must be a busy morning, while others would chastise. The latter were my favorite, reminding me much of my mother who would yell up at the stairs at me if I hadn't gotten out of bed yet for school - something she still had to do when I was a Senior in High School.

Following breakfast, it was time to make sure all of their biological needs were met. Then lunch, and so on, with napping or an activity in the afternoon and then the culmination of my shift at 2:30pm.

Repeat.
Repeat.
Repeat.

Now I mention routines, and the repetitive nature of the tasks at hand. This would lead many to assume that every day would be the same, or boring for lack of a better word - especially in comparison to my job as an Activities Assistant, where I constantly got to play games, write progress notes on resident involvement, and even go visit on a individual level. Luckily, it was anything but boring, it was fascinating, challenging, heartbreaking, and rewarding all at the same time.

Waking the residents each morning was one of my favorite parts. I was the first person to welcome them into the new day - a day that I hoped would be full of smiles, laughter, and happiness. I was the first person who got to make them feel good about how they looked. As we age our skin becomes something that is anything but beautiful by societal standards, our hair thins, our teeth become damaged from years of maltreatment, medication, or other diseases. I was the one who got to comb their hair, adjust their clothes, and make them feel attractive. I got to hear them make fun of me as I learned how to put on a bra properly, or adjust a special brace they had been using throughout their lifetime - and this was all before 8am. I got to fall in love with these people, who despite needing my help, were anything but helpless. They had strong personalities, emotions, and opinions. Even those who were unable to respond, unable to aid me in any aspect of their care, were still so full of life, just as important as the ones who could tell me exactly what shirt they wanted and exactly why it was my fault there were wrinkles.

I'm not saying that I got along with every resident, or that every day was a happy and lovely day. There would be times a resident would cry, either from missing their family, from being in pain, or even upset with the situation they have come to be in. But even those days were full of reward. I was the only who got to hug them, or squeeze their hand. I was the one who got to get them an extra dessert, or adjust their bed a little more than I really had to, in an attempt to make them feel more at home. I was the one who got to cry with them and make them know their emotions are valid, that someone in this world still cared about them.

I've touched a lot on what I am capable of doing for the residents, but I don't want to minimize the vast amount the residents do for me. They challenge me everyday, be it with my patience, my compassion, and even my understanding of different backgrounds. They push me to my limits, opening my heart to all of those around me, providing me the opportunity to love someone who can be mean, but also forcing me to understand where that anger and hatred come from. Normally we are so quick to judge and shut out those who raise their voice, or are standoffish. I was forced to look deeper into the situation - assess why they were responding to me this way and discover if there was a situational trigger I could avoid, or find another approach that would aid in our teamwork. Now, of course there are some residents that will not click with every single staff member, but they have taught me not to be so quick to close people off and pass them off to the next, presumably unlucky, fool. The residents would challenge my belief that everything is now or never, and remind me that I have time to make mistakes. That by making mistakes, I will find the place that I belong in. They remind me that no matter what happens to me, I will make it, I will survive. Minor set backs that seem so large in the short 22 years I have been alive, are like passing minutes to them. So many residents took convoluted routes to their dreams and find it humorous that I find a 6 month setback the end of the world.

There is one final thing that I want to mention. Not only did I fall in love with the residents all over again, they made me fall in love with myself. Every day a resident would remind me of how patient I could be, how caring, how kind. Every day, a resident would tell me that I was skinny, that I was beautiful, and had lovely eyes. Their compliments meant the world to me; the residents had no idea that I have constantly and continuously struggled with my body image, be it my weight, my face, my teeth, making their compliments all the more sweet. They said these things not because they cared how I felt, but because they believed them to be true. They allowed me to look at myself in the mirror each morning and night and look for these qualities about myself - the qualities that I was so quick to diminish. I was taught to reevaluate how I treat myself, and questioned why I was able to be so kind and compassionate towards others, but so ruthless and relentless when it came to my own shortcomings. Leaving me to wonder why I was so quick to forgive their faults, but so slow to allow myself to have imperfections.

My capacity to love, not only others, but myself, has grown and expanded, and for that I am truly grateful. You start a job thinking that you are going to be taking care of someone, but when it's all said and done - you took care of each other, no matter if the resident knows it or not.

Different Path, Different Life

As I sit down to write tonight, I realize how much the title of my blog rings true: From Med School, to Whatever. Starting out thinking that medical school was the only way I would ever be happy, and arriving at this time in my life, has been quite the journey. My undergraduate career thus far at the University of Minnesota has been full of twists and turns, emotional wins and losses, and faces that I will never forget - for good or bad reasons, and people that have left a mark on my heart that I will carry with me the rest of my life. I've learned that I have multiple opportunities available to me - and that no matter how many closed doors that seem to appear, I have thousands more that are open. 

I've come to the realization that medical school is out of the question. To many people, this realization is world crushing, but to me, it feels like the cinder blocks dragging me to the bottom of the ocean have been cut off and I'm fear to swim to the surface and breath. Along this journey, I have been afraid to falter, been afraid to change my mind - and yet the more I let myself take back my initial decisions, challenge my path, the more excited I get. Med school was a way for me to prove that I was the best, that I was the smartest person in the room. But these past few months, I have begun to realize that I no longer need that. I don't need to be the 'smartest' and 'best' in the room. I don't need to be perfect and unfaltering. I need to be human. 

Now, that being said, my interest in medicine has not been challenged. As I progress in my biochemistry degree and learn more about the pathways and cell signaling that results in complications, diseases, and ultimately death, I feel a calling to be the person in the way, the person standing guard over those around me. I want to be the one that people can come to crying when their elderly parents are suffering and don't know where to look. I want to be the one that people can bring their feverish child in as they fear the worst, and grant them the comfort that I believe my personality and compassion can provide. After shadowing doctors, I have noticed that there is not always time for this, as they have patient after patient, followed by paperwork and other responsibilities given by the hospital that come with the title of MD. I noticed that those who had the time were ones who didn't quite have the title MD, but knew seemingly just as much: Physician Assistants. 

As I watched the PA's wandering from patient to patient, socializing, comforting, and treating, I felt as though I was looking at myself. Their personalities mirrored mine - they seemed easy going and genuinely compassionate, having the time to form stronger relationship with their patients. This isn't to say that doctors do not have time, nor am I saying that doctors do not form strong and compassionate relationships - that simply isn't true. I am merely saying that it appeared as though PA's had the energy and the lifestyle that I possess and want.

Upon looking more into PA schools, the excitement only grew; I appear to be an ideal candidate with all my experiences, involvement, and even my GPA, which has been a sore spot for me the past few semesters. The length of two years is also more appealing, as I still desire to give back to the education system and children who are not afforded the same opportunities as I have been given, through Teach for America. 

At the start of the summer, my future appeared bleak and terrifying. But now, after corresponding with my Biochem 4332 professor who has not only been supportive, but encouraging of all my endeavors, and researching PA schools, as well as speaking with a TFA recruiter, my future has never looked brighter - and that is what I wanted to share with all of you.

No matter how many times your dreams change, no matter how times you feel like the future is a daunting place, remember there are hundreds of people that are rooting for you and willing to help at every corner, you only need to keep your head up.