A few days ago a job shadow event took place in our community. As a vital member of the community, my employer participated. I volunteered to play a part this year, mainly because I received e-mails from the education department begging for volunteers. I remember being so excited and inspired as a young woman walking into a hospital for the first time. I couldn’t wait to be one of the nurses dressed in white, talking with the doctors and helping patients. To me, nursing was what I’d always wanted to do. Nursing was my dream, my passionate pursuit of career, profession and intellect.
My dream came true, I owe it to another young woman to give back, to inspire and encourage, I told myself; so with lofty goals and heartfelt intention I signed up. The day arrived, and I was presented with year-old young women named and Harmony. and Harmony shrugged their shoulders and reluctantly responded when I asked them their career interests. I guess I want to be “a neonatal nurse or a doctor, or something,” said . I want to be a “pediatric physical therapist,” mumbled Harmony. So in their infinite wisdom, the powers-that-be, assigned and Harmony to me—a clinical educator in an adult ICU, who shudders at the thought of caring for a critically ill neonate and knows nothing about physical therapy!
Making the best of the situation, I spoke with the girls about the fulfillment, gratification, and hard work involved in a nursing career. We talked about family involvement during patient care, nurse physician collaboration, teamwork and autonomy in the ICU. I’m not sure this conversation did much to peak their interest, especially since I saw yawn and Harmony begin to shuffle her feet and look around my office. I could imagine them saying to themselves, “This job doesn’t sound anything like Grey’s Anatomy or . Where are the cute babies and George Clooney?” I could tell I wasn’t getting through to them. So I asked, do you have any questions? “That’s a really cool pair of scrubs,” said , “where do you get them?”
Feeling defeated old and out of touch, I thought I had better do something exciting, before these girls fall asleep. After all this is the generation that texts, drives, talks and eats simultaneously. I decided a tour of the ICU would spice things up a bit. As we walked through the ICU, I explained the heart monitors, respirators, lift devices and IV pumps. Despite the bustle in the nurses’ station with the flurry of morning activity, critically ill patients surrounded by a plethora of machines, and doctors writing and conversing, little seemed to excite or impress Harmony and . I was beginning to fear their experience a flop.
Suddenly, I was saved.
Like a bolt of lightening had descended from the heavens and struck each girl simultaneously they stood at attention. Their faces, lit up, they began to giggle, fix their hair and whisper to one another. I strained to see. Was it a bird, a plane, Superman, George Clooney? No it was the lift team!
Our lift team is a duo of cocky young, muscle–bound, tattooed men whose sole purpose is to report to the unit when paged, to help nurses turn and move patients. I explained to the girls how fortunate the nursing staff was to have a hospital that provided a lift team. The girls’ whole-heartedly agreed and smiled. They gazed upon the men until the team disappeared into a patient room accompanied by a nurse. The morning was a success.
My job was done–almost.
Oh well, while I failed to inspire a new generation of nurses I may have inspired a career in ergonomics?