Nursing the Dance

By Jan Carol

After five years as a victim of domestic violence, I took my nursing degree and decided to do something to help others. My personal life changed my professional life dramatically, forever. There are many stories of victims, perpetrators, their children, and the effect violence has on everyone involved. The red flags to be considered, obvious to

• Language: English
• Publisher: Book Vine Press
• Release date: Oct 14, 2022
• ISBN: 9781959450238

Jan Carol

Jan Carol is a Registered Nurse with more than 50 years experience, and lives in Naples, FL. Her first book, "The Dance of Life" was published in 2021.

Book preview

Contents

PART ONE

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

PART 2

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

PART THREE

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

PART FOUR

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

THE CYCLE OF VIOLENCE

VOCABULARY

PART ONE

Chapter 1

Ihave been a nurse for almost 55 years. When I was 5 years old, I moved from Michigan to Hartford, CT. with my family. I never wanted to play house, school, store, or dolls. I only wanted to play hospital or doctor and nurse. When I was ten years old, we moved to Manchester, CT. When I started high school, Manchester High School had a specific curriculum for girls who wanted to be nurses. I was totally in my element. In the 50’s that was unheard of and unique. I loved Nurses Math, Nurses Biology, Nurses Nutrition, and Nurses Chemistry. Those classes were all girl classes, not too many boys wanted to be nurses in those days. We did take co-ed classes in English, History, and Physical Education. I was hooked from the beginning. I had never been a math person, but Nurses Math had meaning. The problems we were given to solve were practical and made sense. There was also a Nurses’ Club after school. Five other girls and me, all aspiring nurses, joined, and got to know each other well. We all eventually did become nurses.

My Junior year, I applied to several nursing schools and was accepted at Yale School of Nursing, my first choice! In January that same year, I turned 16, and got a job as a dancing instructor teaching little children tap, ballet, acrobat, and baton, with a friend. My mom had been a dancing instructor for Arthur Murray when we first moved to CT., and I had learned how to dance as a very young child. It was perfect timing as the dancing school was closed for the summer and I was going to Europe for 3 months with a group of 18 Girl Scouts between the ages of 16 and 18. What an amazing experience! We danced with Queen Elizabeth’s Royal Black Watch Guards and learned to do the Highland Fling in Scotland. We met teenagers from all walks of life in England, Scotland, Wales, Sweden, Switzerland, Denmark, Norway, and Germany. Music and dance are an international language. When I returned to school in the fall, I was old enough to apply, and got a job in the hospital as a Nurse’s Aide. I was in all my glory! One Saturday night, I went to a dance with my girlfriends and met a sailor. I never went to Yale. I married at the age of 18 and had four children by the time I was 24. We moved from Manchester to Bristol because it was closer to my husband’s job, and we found a three-bedroom condo that was very nice. Once we moved, I found out I was pregnant with my fourth child. I still worked as a Nurse’s Aide but never forgot my dream of becoming a nurse. When my oldest child was almost seven, and my youngest was a year and a half, my husband left me, without warning. I never saw him again for over 20 years. I needed to be able to take care of my young children and decided to fulfill my dream and go to nursing school. At that time, I had no idea as to how it would change my life forever. My mother took care of my children while I went to school, and it was not easy. The classes I had had at Manchester High School were put to good use. It made things easier for me than for some of the other students who had little firsthand knowledge of medicine or nursing in general. Those were difficult but exciting times. I couldn’t wait for firsthand experience with patients.

When I was ½ way through school, my youngest son, John Cameron, became critically ill with a rare blood disorder, Henoch-Schoenlein Syndrome, or anaphylactic purpura, as it is known by non-medical people. I had to take a leave of absence. I was worried sick about my son, who was on the critical list at Hartford Hospital, and frantic about not finishing school so that I could provide for my children. Watching my adorable little boy, always crying, unable to walk, covered in large purple, hot, painful, blood spots on his body, was heart breaking. He had constant chills and fever, dressed in a snowsuit in the July heat. After five harrowing months, he finally started getting some relief. His brother and sisters had to pull him around in a little red wagon, he could not walk. As his mom, I was scared to death. Eventually, the doctors surmised that it was caused by an allergic reaction to Erythromycin, but they were never totally sure. Obviously, he was never prescribed Erythromycin again. I was finally able to go back to school with the next incoming class. I went to school full time and studied hard. My mom was a Godsend. Without her I would have never gotten through that difficult time. Any spare time I had was taken up with studying or playing with my children. One day, some of the younger students asked me to join them and go to a dance. That sounded wonderful. I had a great time meeting new people and dancing my feet off. The next day at school, I was sitting on a table in the back of the room watching a medical movie and fell asleep! After I almost fell to the floor, of course the instructor saw me, I decided that dancing would have to wait. Nursing was more important. After many lectures, discussions, readings, and tests, we were ready to go to the hospital and apply what we had learned. I was excited with anticipation. Finally, I was ready to pursue my dream with real people. The first day on the floor I was assigned a patient with Delirium Tremens, a life threatening withdrawl syndrome that effects people with severe, chronic, alcoholism. Very frightening. It was the first time I had ever seen anyone totally unable to control himself, restrained to the bed for his physical safety. Part of being a good nurse is not being judgmental. This was a big test for me. At the time, my understanding of addiction of any kind, was negligeable. All I knew is that I felt uncomfortable with this man. After three days taking care of my first patient, I had to write a case study on him. The medical facts were straight forward. He was brought to the hospital after being arrested for public drunkenness and displaying dangerous symptoms in jail as he started to withdraw from the alcohol, cold turkey. He was a 45-year-old divorced, unemployed, white male, who spoke only minimal English. In the Emergency Room he went into Delirium Tremens. Some of his symptoms included extreme hyperactivity, restlessness, vivid hallucinations, mental confusion, and psychosis. When I was a novice nursing student, nearly 40% of patients with this diagnosis died! Today, with new medications and understanding of the disease, 5 to 25% typically die as the result of a very high body temperature, heart arrhythmias, and/or seizure related complications. The most difficult and telling piece of the case study came when I had to write about my hands-on care of this man. As I look back on it so many years later, I really tried to do my best. I did take care of all his physical needs, that was easy. When he was ready to be discharged, he looked at me and said, "thank you for caring for me. I know you don’t like me.

I am sorry if I gave you a difficult time. That was not easy to hear. I had been so gung-ho and did not meet my first patient’s emotional needs. I had to admit to myself that because of alcoholism in my family, especially my soon to be ex-husband, I was judgmental and needed to acquire empathy for all patients regardless of their diagnoses. I wrote, truthfully, about how this patient had affected me, and what I learned about myself very early on. I received an A" for my honesty and self-understanding. I was also cautioned that all patients were intitled to the best, non-judgmental care, both physically and emotionally. My first very important lesson learned. Because I was one of the oldest students, I was often assigned to patients with complicated medical and psychological issues. Researching a patient and their diagnosis before going to the hospital, was always the first step in any new case. I vowed to do better from then on. The following week, I was assigned to a man who