Yesterday was a tough day for me. After 8 months of thinking about it, I finally cancelled my nursing registration with the Nursing and Midwifery Council (NMC). This has been without doubt the hardest decision I’ve ever made, and the impact of it is huge.
You see i started my nurse training many years ago at the end of the 80’s at only 18 years of age. I had already worked as a nursing auxiliary ( as they were then called) for six months, but on a Surgical Orthopaedic Ward in a back street hospital in Newcastle under Lyme. My short time working there was what made me decide to do mental health nursing as the ward was terrible and the Ward Sister was a typical old school, married to the job, probably a virgin, really quite hateful nurse who despised me from the off. Her strict and stiff demeanour was the exact opposite of me: I was friendly, happy and keen to make the patients smile through what was a pretty awful time for them.
You’d usually find me bouncing around the ward singing daft songs with the patients, or making them laugh by doing silly dances in time to their bleeping drips and monitors. Sister Brassington (I know!) hated this and regularly chastised me for being ‘inappropriate’ or ‘unprofessional’ , something I’m sure any of my colleagues over the proceeding 30 years will testify is my normal behaviour, I’ve never really changed! Even when I was a ward manager, keeping staff and patients happy and laughing was a priority.
When I was accepted to complete my nurse training in Manchester Sheffield or Birmingham ( I chose Sheffield because at that time that was where the best alternative music scene was, clearly I had researched the different areas extensively!) Sister Brassington laughed her ratty little head off, telling me she knew I would ‘end up being a psych as that was where all the delinquent nurses were.’ (She wasn’t wrong to be fair) I had to continue biting my now bleeding lip(s) until the bitch had given me a reference, but boy did I let rip once everything was set up in Sheffield and it was my last day on R.E.B Ward!
My last day arrived eventually. I made sure the ward was packed with staff and relatives and that Sister B was present before loudly telling her that ‘all the patients and staff hate you, you are so evil to everyone’. ( This was true, even the patients used to pass notes slagging her off to each other from their beds) It actually took a few seconds for her to register what I had said: the deathly silence and tumble weed blowing through the ward probably helped mind! To my amazement she didn’t say a word but just walked away.
That was the last time I ever saw Sister B. As they say, what goes around comes around, and I can only hope she thought twice about the regular public bollockings she gave her poor nursing staff on a daily basis, after finding herself on the receiving end instead!
Fast forward 34 years to the present day. (Well back to yesterday I should say.) I cried a LOT and got angry about how and why I am leaving the ONLY job I have ever done, and a job that I have always loved, but it is what it is, and my reasons can wait for another day and another blog. The bottom line is that it is done. I am officially no longer a nurse.
I’m scared shitless and so skint ( didn’t think at 52 id be back to counting the pennies) but I’m free! FREE!! FREEDOM!!!
Goodbye nursing, you’ve been a blast but its now time for a change and I CANT WAIT!!
Until next time peeps…