I was born, and then I died. Twice.
That’s how my mother describes my entrance into the world.
I arrived prematurely at week 29, an emergency C-section
baby. Just one pound, nine ounces at delivery.
My heart stopped beating twice and doctors had to resuscitate me. I spent a total of 12 weeks in two different hospitals, weighing in at a whopping three pounds when I was allowed to go home.
Despite that remarkable beginning, I was an unremarkable
child, and an even more unremarkable teenager. I could
never decide “what I wanted to be when I grew up.” First it
was an Egyptologist, then an astronaut, then a marine biologist, and finally — for a few years, anyway — a veterinarian.
I gave up on that one when I realized how many years of
schooling was involved.
I may have been an unremarkable child, and then teen, but
there was something I could always be counted on to do —
give up. I gave up on everything at some point or another:
piano, volleyball, theater ... even academics, for a moment.
QUITTING TIME — AGAIN
That is, until I turned 16. That’s when I decided I wanted to be a nurse because I liked to take care of people. That was it. Decision made, career path decided. From that point on, I would consider nothing else.
I enrolled at George Mason University because of its nursing program. The first day of classes finally arrived and I was excited — ecstatic, even. The university used Anatomy and Physiology to weed out poorly performing freshman students, yet even that could not dim my anticipation. Other students I knew were thriving in Anatomy and Physiology, but I was lacking. Immensely. Truth be told, I did not know how to study — REALLY study — in the way that was necessary. I was juggling five other classes, and no matter what I did or how many hours I crammed before a test, I could not get higher than a C on anything. I failed all three practicums.
So, before my GPA was dealt any further damage, I did what I always had done when anything became too hard for me: I gave up.
I remember having to change my major quickly. My parents were paying my tuition, and there was no other recourse. If I wanted to stay in college, I had to make a decision — fast.
THE WRITE CHOICE
So English would be my new major. I’ve always liked writing, so what if it wasn’t the most stable choice for a career? I was good at it, and it was far, far easier to stick to what I knew.
I excelled in English and I was lucky, too. I was hired right out of college as a transcript editor at a company where I had been working part time. The salary was abysmal by Northern Virginia standards, but it was a job in my field, which thrilled my parents to no end.
So I began my professional career as a transcript editor, then later as a proposal writer. After a false start or two, and more than one learning curve, I landed a job at an accounting firm as a Senior Proposal Coordinator. I was not happy with the work, but a job is a job, and I had learned that I could put up with many things under the right circumstances.
Then I dislocated my kneecap one time too many, and to use the cliché, everything changed. I underwent surgery to replace a ligament in one of my knees, which was nothing out of the ordinary.
Yet something was out of the ordinary — my reaction when my surgical team entered the pre-procedure room to explain to me what was about to happen. I remember nothing else about the pre- or post-procedure events, but what I do remember, with staggering clarity, is the feeling of absolute envy that hit me. It would have knocked me off my feet had I not already been lying down.
Suddenly, this long-dormant part of me rose up and shrieked:
“This is what I’m supposed to be doing! I’m supposed to be exactly where you are, giving this exact same speech!”
Weeks passed, and I thought little of it. I had buried that little part of me that had thrashed before my procedure. Sure, I had thought about going back to nursing. Sure, I wondered how different my life would have been had I found a way — MADE a way — to stick it out at George Mason. I had managed to talk myself out of trying to go back purely because of practical reasons: Where would I get the money? How could I afford to live if I quit my job to take classes?Then COVID happened.
A PRAYER ANSWERED
I remember sitting in my home office about two weeks into lockdown, when a thought struck me: What, exactly, was I doing with my life? Was I really making a difference? How long was I going to keep denying myself something that I hadn’t actually given up on, something I had never wanted to give up on in the first place?
My job was making me miserable. The world had changed, so what was stopping me from doing the same?
I owed it to myself — my 30-year-old self, my 18-year-old self, and my 16-year-old self — to at least try. Put in the effort.
Do the work. What was the harm?
Worst case, I would just wash out again, and I had been there, done that, already. I knew how to cope with that.What I could not cope with, as it turns out, was not trying — not knowing what could happen if I did. I am not a particularly devout person these days, but I prayed to God that if this is really what He wanted me to do, He would make it happen.
And He did. At age 32 — a full 14 years after I thought I had left my dream behind — I was accepted to the nursing school of my choice. This time, I did not give up. I cannot give up. I have come too far and left too much behind me to do so now.
I cannot fully explain why, exactly, I have chosen to enter the healthcare field. The desire to take care of people my 16- year-old self acknowledged is still there. It has grown as I have grown. I do know that nursing is the first thing I have ever wanted in my life that I have wanted solely for myself — not to make others happy or because someone else says I should do it.
And in the end, that makes all the difference.
(This First Person essay was written by Kathryn Makin, who completed eight courses with Portage Learning. She is continuing her education in the traditional BSN program at Sentara College of Health Sciences in Chesapeake, Va. She’s also working as a Patient Care Technician at Sentara Virginia Beach General Hospital.)
