Once you sustain a head injury, your life will change in ways that you couldn’t comprehend until you experience it.

In life it is important to be socially acceptable. Your dress sense, the words you speak and the manner in which you conduct yourself need to be in keeping with the social norms at that given time.

In the 60s, it was platform shoes. If you wore them now though, your friends would laugh at you. And rightly so. Apart from my mate Ashley, who’s a ginger and someone I’d love to see impersonate ginger spice in a lovely pair of union jack platformers, It wouldnt be acceptable. She was the only one I didn’t fancy tbf. #nogingist.

Every single day people discriminate against me in some manner, but because 90% of the time they don’t even know they’re doing it, it makes it a trickier situation to deal with.

I laugh it off, that’s my strategy.

From friends to work colleagues and to anyone with whom you come into contact with: it’s just human nature to be liked and accepted.

I was sat in a university lecture a few months back, whereby the lecturer was explaining the nurse re-validation process, and that nurses should keep hold of any thank-you cards or presents that we receive from patients and their families to help us ‘revalidate’ (a posh way of renewing the nurse licence).

I put my hand up and voiced my opinion, which was that we should not be using thank you cards as something to judge a nurses’ performance.

I also stated that keeping hold of things like that it suggests it is not the norm, but something special which rarely happens, when really it should be part and parcel of doing a good job as a nurse (which it is). I was humble and honest, I offered up my own take on it.

Of course, she didn’t like it. I don’t blame her really, it must feel rubbish when a student nurse has the front to disagree with you, albeit professionally, in front of 500 people.

I made light of my comments by saying (truthfully):

‘I really wouldn’t be any good at keeping cards and things anyway. I’ve never uploaded them onto my practice profile document, my memory is terrible’.

To which, the lead nurse for an adult department at a hospital replied in front of 500 students:

‘Well I can’t do anything for your rubbish memory then can I?’

A few sniggers and snorts followed her compassionate (NHS England 2012) comment, but I let it go, thanking her for the opportunity to enhance my skills in maturity and consequently grow as a person.

Whether unconcious or not: to the people that are different from what you feel to be socially acceptable, it can be hard for them to learn from your dispassionate and insensitively depricating comments just how different they are to you. Not me though, I’ve grown thicker skin.

You never know what’s going on in people’s lives

My last blog I said I can feel my nursing is something that won’t happen this time around. I want to make one thing abundantly clear:

When I die, I will quit. If I am forced off my course this time round, I will happily start it all over again from the beginning.

I must be insane to think i can be a nurse. I am constantly exhausted.

I don’t do it for the thank you cards or for any sort of recognition. 

I do it because I like seeing children laughing and in absolute hysterics within 12 seconds of our encounter, despite losing all their hair from their gruelling chemotherapy treatment. I do it for the spark of magic that comes from the connection we make with children under very trying and heartbreaking circumstances. I do it to eradicate fear, pain and suffering, even if only for a few seconds. I do it (quote):

To make children laugh when they’ve been barely able to raise a smile.

These comments were from placement 5. This makes it even harder for me to accept that I’m just not ready for placement 6. But it’s true and I accept this graciously, I’m just not ready.

Not yet.