Are Passion and a Calling Pre-requisites for Being a Good Nurse?

Several years of news about the nursing shortage, and now the recession, has made nursing a popular career choice. And, it is a popular choice for those seeking a second career because, in part, it is viewed as offering job security. For decades it was assumed that those entering the profession had a calling and a passion for the work before they’d even set foot in a nursing school classroom—in fact, it seemed to be a requirement. Even nurses were of that mindset, and many still are.

Recently, there was a comment posted on a forum by a nurse who was miffed when she heard a second-career nurse say, “I wish I’d gone into nursing first because it’s a recession-proof job.” Nurse Miffed is of the opinion—and I’m paraphrasing here—that someone who chooses nursing for job and salary security can’t be dedicated to the work.

I disagree. I have first-hand experience as a nurse who felt neither a calling to, nor a passion for, the profession. I grew up in a middle class family, a child of parents who never attended college. They wanted us to have the opportunities that had been out of reach for them but they didn’t have the experience to advise us about career choices and colleges. We were pretty much left to our own devices.

In my senior year of high school I knew I should be making plans regarding my life’s work but I hadn’t a clue what that might be. As the sports editor of my school newspaper, I’d developed an interest in journalism, but such a career seemed so abstract I couldn’t grasp it. My hometown was a mostly agricultural community of 1,200 people that hadn’t produced a single journalist ever. It felt like a make-believe job and I am nothing if not pragmatic, so I thought I should seek something more practical.

It was an era of television medical dramas and I was an avid fan of those programs. Watching the medical shows planted the seed of thought that maybe I could do what the nurses on TV were doing (which wasn't much compared to reality) and that is how I decided upon a nursing career. No calling. No passion. Not much thought at all. I suddenly found myself in nursing school where our instructors wasted no time whipping us into shape. I followed the rules (mostly), did what I was told (mostly) and found that I not only had some talent for nursing, but also really loved most aspects of it. By graduation our class had shrunk by nearly a third. Some of those who didn’t make it to the end had a passion for the profession, had wanted to be nurses since childhood, but in the throes of school they discovered it wasn’t what they’d imagined and their bubbles burst.

I think salary and employability are factors we all think about when considering a career, so why should nursing be put on a pedestal as being something we would pursue, no matter the wage or job possibilities.

I have used this quote by Diana Mason, PhD, RN, FAAN, former editor-in-chief of the American Journal of Nursing, a couple times before but it is so wise and so true, it needs to be repeated: “It does take a special something to be a good nurse, but it can be learned—with proper desire, skills can be gained.”

I’m certain there are untold numbers of caring, highly skilled nurses who, like me, arrived at nursing school without a passion but, with guidance from superb instructors, learned to be good nurses.

Be honest. Was it passion and calling alone that led you to nursing? Did salary and job prospects affect your decision? Please weigh in here.

Question for Nurses: Will You be an Organ Donor?

Today I noticed a question on a nursing forum asking how nurses feel about organ transplantation. The questioner wants to know if nurses would be donors and would they donate organs of family members if the decision fell to them.

For me, that is an easy question to answer. There is a young woman in my small town who received a heart transplant as an infant, due to hypoplastic heart syndrome. It has been a joy to watch her progress through the years. She was a darling child with a cloud of blonde curls whose mother dressed her to the nines—she always looked like a little doll. As she grew up she showed a talent for athletics and participated in national sports events specifically for transplant recipients. She is now attending college out of state and thriving.

One of the smartest, kindest and most mannerly men I know is alive today thanks to a heart transplant he had several years ago. He and his wife make annual trips abroad to visit their daughter’s family and revel in the fact that he can participate in all sorts of activities with their grandchildren. Not only is he alive but also extraordinarily full of pep.

Another dear friend is no longer tethered to a dialysis machine three days a week because a family agreed to donate the organs of their son following his death in an accident.

Yet another friend just received his second liver transplant. The first one was successful and performed well for several years before the need for the second transplant presented itself. Life is, once again, back to normal.

When I see these results and count the years of productive living the transplants have collectively added to the lives of my friends, how could I not be an organ donor? My driver’s license designates me as a donor. The same is true for my husband and daughter.

I have a neighbor who graduated from nursing school a year ago and works in an emergency department in a neighboring town. Last week, while walking past her house, I noticed an interesting bumper sticker on her car. It read, “Don’t take your organs to heaven. Heaven knows we need them here.” That says it very well, don’t you think?

So, nurses, how do you feel about donating your organs? Will you? If not, why not?

The Possibility of Hepatitis C Through No Fault of My Own

Back in December I was scheduled for surgery at a big-city hospital and doing a lot of hand wringing in this blog as I worried about the possibility that C. diff, a nasty little bug prevalent in hospitals, might complicate my recovery. Everything is relative, as they say, and now, more than six months post-op, I’m wishing I could broker a deal to contract C. diff in place of what is hanging over me.

I returned home from a long July 4th weekend spent with no newspapers and no television, to hear a shocking item on the ten o’clock news. A hepatitis C-infected surgical tech in the OR where I had my surgery has admitted to stealing syringes of Fentanyl from anesthesia carts and replacing them with her used syringes filled with saline. Her employment in that OR spanned nearly 6 months, placing me among the 5,700 at-risk patients who had surgery during that time.

The registered letter notifying me of the dreadful circumstances was delivered the next day. The same afternoon I had a blood draw and was told it could be as long as two weeks before the hospital notifies me of the test results. So far, ten patients have tested positive for Hep C.

I have no idea what the odds might be that I could be a victim of the syringe switching tech. There are 5,700 of us patients and just one of her. How many cases she might’ve assisted each day, I don’t know. I’m sure odds makers in Vegas could give me the numbers, but it is a worry any way I look at it. The good news—and I’m hanging on tight to this—is that 15-25% of Hep C patients won’t get a chronic infection and 90% of Hep C patients are likely to recover if treated within six months. I, unfortunately, passed the six-month mark on June 10, but maybe that is close enough to still get a good outcome.

It has been reported that even if the hospital had known the tech had Hep C, disability law would not allow the hospital to treat her differently than other employees. How much sense does that make when we’re talking about a surgical tech’s individual rights versus public safety, for crying out loud?

So, I’m biding my time, trying to maintain a positive attitude and hoping for the best as I await my test results. I’m just sorry that anyone is going to suffer because of this debacle and the fact that the tech faces a life sentence is small consolation.