Growing up I wanted to be a nurse. My mother had been sick with
cancer when I was 11 years old. I watched all these loving nurses come
in her life. All of them had a special something. Something that made
you want to be just like them. They made my mother feel better, she
seemed calmer and more relieved when they were there. Whether they were
giving her pain medication, changing her sheets, or making her
comfortable in her bed all while smiling at her 3 children who sat
there, watching not knowing what to do for her.
I wanted to be that person. I wanted to help someone like I hadn’t
been able to help my mother. From the age of 12 I knew what I wanted and
told anyone who would listen.
There are so many reasons why this never happened. Some of it is can be read here and here.
Beside these reasons, moving out so young, having no support,
financial or emotional, I basically got a job that I hated and never
wanted to pay the bills and that dream just slipped away.
Looking back now, I think I would have been a terrific nurse but I
also believe it would have been something that changed me as a person. I
tried Hospice when I was younger and it killed me to see people dying. I
believe that everything happens for a reason so I don’t look at this as
a regret just something that I had wanted.
Now, I get to play nurse for my two babies. Someone gets hurt and
there I am with my medi- kit. Ready to scoop someone up and clean,
bandage, ice, hug, remove or kiss the boo-boo. I am the best damn nurse
mommy I can be.
So, is this REALLY an unfulfilled dream? I feel like in a way I am living it, just not the way I had originally envisioned.
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