Grandmother, Mother, and Daughter RN
by Jaime L. Robertson

At school today, I helped four couples prepare to take their new babies home. Yesterday at work, I listened to an older man’s story of how he fell in love with his wife 58 years ago. When I get home at the end of the day, I am satisfied and filled with the exciting energy of nursing.

I have wanted to be a nurse for as long as I can remember. There were, of course, days I thought “Doctor” would sound nice before my name, but they were few and far between.

All my life I have loved people. I was the little girl who sat down next to the older man at the park just to let him know “my grandpa had hair in his nose, too.” I love making new friends, but I especially love the look in a patient’s eyes when I have made a difference in his day.

Have you ever been having a bad day and looked up to see a friend’s smiling face and find that your troubles suddenly seem so small? Have you been soothed by a back rub or a warm bath? I believe these comforting measures are the backbone of the nursing profession. Nurses are there to lift people up when they are feeling down and give comfort when they need a little rest.

I have always known nursing to be a proud profession. My grandmother was a nurse and so was another woman I have always looked up to with admiration: my mother, Kathie Robertson.

My mom received her degree in 1980. After graduation, she was hired by a large hospital in our hometown to work in the nursery. At the time, she was six months pregnant with me. She loved her job and developed fast friends at the hospital. In February of 1981, she took what was to be a temporary leave of absence to give birth to me on April 7. One month later, she was diagnosed with malignant breast cancer.

One of my mom’s nurses had this to say about my mother: “I think people thought they would help her when they came to visit, but she had so much inner strength, people always left feeling that they were the ones being helped. She gave herself completely to others. She was just herself, just Kathie, but being ‘just Kathie’ was quite extraordinary. It was simply a part of her being to always be concerned about others.”

She was a nurse. My mother passed away on June 27, 1982, but her memory and spirit have always been a part of my life. She is an inspiration to me.

I have a photograph of my mom holding me in one arm and her diploma from nursing school in the other, and on the back she has written, “my two greatest accomplishments.” I am so proud of that picture. I get it out when I feel like nursing school is getting the best of me and I need a little boost. It usually does the trick.
Ernest Hemingway once said, “The world breaks everyone, and afterward, many are stronger at the broken places.”

The experiences that people have in life shape them into the person they will become. I guess you could say I was “broken” at a very early age. The loss of my mother has impacted every aspect of my life. I learned early that nothing lasts forever; anything and everything could end in a matter of seconds. I knew this before I knew my ABC’s, before I could ride a bike.

Later in my life, this death has helped me to focus on the greater aspects of living. I live for those little moments most people take for granted, which I believe is reflected in my work as a nurse. I am overwhelmed by a new dad’s reaction to his new baby. I am amazed at the strength a woman has as she tells her husband he doesn’t need to fight his disease anymore. I am satisfied with a simple thank you or just a look of gratitude.
As a direct result of this tragedy I have conquered, I am determined to live a full life, to extract all I can from every situation, and spread around the love I have inside. The scars I have developed have only increased my strength and heightened my sensitivity.

This strength that I claim so often was tested my freshman year of nursing school. I received a call explaining that my grandma was very sick, and I should come down. So, I went. I stayed with her in the hospital about a week. I painted her fingernails, put lotion on her hands; we ate blueberry pancakes (the only thing she ate all week), had a slumber party and watched “The Horse Whisperer” (she loved Montana).

During my visit, she gave me some things she wanted me to have. One very special thing was her nursing pin. When I left the hospital for the airport, I thought it would be the last time I saw my grandma. Unlike my mother, she was not a fighter. She had given up. So I returned to school, sent letters, and called often.

In November, I received another urgent phone call, but it seemed different this time. She was in a hospice program and wasn’t expected to make it through the week. Once again, I went. There was no time for slumber parties or pancakes during this trip. It consisted mostly of watching her sleep, holding her hand and waiting for her to wake long enough to exchange a few thoughts and go back to sleep. She was awake for a while a few times, and we talked about my grandpa, my mom and her dying. She was beginning to have hallucinations. She talked to people who weren’t there, but seemed comforted.

One moment in particular stands out in my mind. I leaned over to give her a hug, and she looked straight up at the ceiling (obviously at something) and said, “I knew she would come.” She was talking about my mother.

When I left for the airport this time, it was clear that we wouldn’t see each other again. I gave her a hug, she told me to “take it easy,” and I left. It was really hard to leave her there all alone. She passed away the next day. I’ll always remember her hands: they never changed.

I believe that my mother gave me the strength to handle this situation, and reflecting on her courage throughout tragedy has inspired me to pursue a career in nursing. Caring for my grandma in her time of need has only solidified this calling.

To me, nursing is just that, a calling. It takes a special kind of person to be a caring nurse.

Next May, I will graduate with a Bachelor of Science degree in nursing, and I can’t wait. It seems like I’ve been in school forever. I have transferred schools twice, but never changed my major. I like to say that I took the scenic route. Either way, a degree in nursing is the best way I could have prepared myself for life after college.

Very few of my friends who have graduated can say they have jobs they love, much less a job in the field they studied. I will never have that problem. With a degree in nursing, I can go almost anywhere I choose, and I will definitely love my job.

The dictionary defines vocation as “a profession for which one is especially suited” or “a strong desire to do a particular type of work,” and avocation as “an activity that is engaged in for enjoyment, in addition to one’s regular work.” For me, nursing is both a vocation and an avocation, and I can only hope that many others feel this way.
This world is in need of nurses, people who care enough to take the lives of others into their hands and hold them gently.