Self-sacrifice: A tribute to the nurses who have gone before

With ANZAC day approaching, I feel a need to reflect and acknowledge the brave young women who took up their nursing kits to sacrifice their lives in serving our country on the frontline. The nature of war was evidently far from the optimism that plagued the home front and had severe repercussions for many young lives. Although significant fatalities from World War I scar Australian history, these fatalities would be greater if it wasn’t for the many nurses who served tirelessly.
The need to remember and respect these courageous women was made clear to me when my best friend and I visited the exhibition on nurses that showed at the National War Memorial in Canberra last year. We traced the development of nursing from the First World War through to present times. In reading biographies of the women who served in world war one, we were deeply moved and challenged.
Through gangue green, fevers, trauma, amputations, festering wounds and trench foot, these women functioned in conditions that were unkind to one’s femininity. They proved themselves to be more than ‘angels of mercy’, but equals of stamina and ability. Their endless labours were the beginnings of a turning point for women’s rights in Australia.
The story of one nurse in particular gave us insight into the self-sacrifice of these young women. She was nursing in a camp where an explosion took place, sending shrapnel into the air. Some of this shrapnel pierced her lungs and slowly drained her every breath. Despite personal injuries she did not cease to attend to the needs of the soldiers who were under her care. She worked until she physically collapsed. I wonder what thoughts were racing through her mind? I wonder if at any point she subconsciously weighed her degree of suffering up to that of her patients, or if she simply ignored her own pain? Miraculously she survived the injuries and was returned to Australia.
The self-sacrifice of these nurses amazes and inspires me. These women could have stayed on the home front and naively condoned war like their peers. However, they chose not to – they silently attended to the brutalities of war and picked up the pieces that resulted.
As I reflect on the strength of character these women possessed, the boldness and the humility… I wonder if I, as a nurse, could exercise such self-sacrifice.
These nurses deserve our respect and are to be remembered this ANZAC day for the strong and brave women they were.

The beginnings of a nomadic nurse: where to now?

The sun is barely waking and the birds are stirring in their nests…

BEEP BEEP BEEP.

My peaceful slumber is disturbed by the irritating and non-melodious chime that is near to my left ear.

BEEP BEEP BEEEEEEEEEP

I awake disorientated to time, place and person. My breathing, although voluntary, increases in rate, depth and rhythm- mild tachypnoea. It takes the time of a healthy capillary refill to realign my senses, get myself together….ABCDE…my primary survey.
I am a nurse. I am on morning shift. I have 1/24 hrs to get myself together, rehydrate, tolerate an early morning breakfast and transfer myself from this supine position in my bed to another’s bedside for clinical handover.

How did I get here? What am I doing?

I never wanted to be a nurse. If you had asked me as a 12 year old what my career ambitions were, I would have rattled off every other profession except nursing; veterinary surgeon, neuro surgeon, professional singer/songwriter, Department of Public Prosecutions barrister, Prime Minister, food & wine taster, international spy, mechanic, podiatrist… nursing was never on my list. Eight years on and here I am. I am in my final year of studying nursing and am working as an assistant nurse.

I have often struggled with how to answer intrigued friends when they ask , ‘do you enjoy nursing?’. Internally I experience visual flashbacks of the awkward clinical placements with unhospitable staff, the hours of cleaning pans, the abuse from clients with dementia and the frequent disruption of my circadian rhythms. I initially reply with an honest and blunted ‘No’, but then I am challenged as to what drew me to nursing and why I have remained in this profession. It can’t be all pans can it?

As I filter through the nursing memoirs of my short yet eventful career, I can recall many moments that have made me feel proud to be a nurse. I spent a month in Bangladesh earlier this year completing a two week placement in a public health hospital in Dhaka. I initially entered this placement with the grand plan to seek my exit from nursing and pursue the world of public health research. Spending time in the Intensive Care Unit, the HIV aids ward and in maternity, I was challenged. The perfect world of public health research seemed mundane compared to the practical work of the nurses in disease management. I was inspired…I returned to Australia with a renewed motivation to complete my nursing degree. Nurses provide hope to the poor.

My short yet insightful experience is not the only thing that spurs me on to be a nurse. I can visually picture the faces of many nurses I have spoken to who have provided their time in order to give me insight into the beauty of nursing. To these nurses I sincerely thank – your sacrifice and dedication has impacted many lives. Thankyou for giving me hope and encouragement.

BEEP BEEP BEEP

I am orientated to time, place and person.

I am a nurse. I am on morning shift.

I am going to work to make a difference to a life today.