[The Life of Shaun #574] If I were 19 again...

...I would become a nurse.  I've been throwing around this catchphrase for years.  I even looked into it quite seriously nine or ten years ago, going to an open day at a local university.  I couldn't imagine relating with the 18ish year-olds who would be my cohort over the three-year programme, and decided I was too old to be that poor again.

But the thought never really left me.  It's been bouncing around between the back and front of my head.  And these years later, things are different, both with me and my options.

Practically, they now have a truncated version of the course for people with a BSc in another discipline who are making a career change.  It's two years instead of three and, while I'd be on the upper side of the age range, I'd be with my peers, other adults beginning their second (or third) careers.

But more importantly, personally things are different.  I am looking for something else out of life than I was then, and I've had some years to build up my financial side a bit so that aspect's not as scary as it once was.

So today was my last day at Barclays.  I have a long weekend break, scheduled with a massage and lunches, before starting my next chapter on Monday: the MSc in Adult Nursing at City, University of London.

I'll never be 19 again, but I can still do this.

Excited and terrified -- but more excited,

Shaun

In the requisite tone, my application essay, if you are keen on a bit more colour:

I can't recall when I realised I wanted to be a nurse, but it's been on my mind for some time. I remember a night, about ten years ago, at home with my flatmate. At some point in our conversation I said that if I were 19 again, I would become a nurse. We talked about it, and how if I had followed that path, I wouldn't have travelled as much, and I might not have moved to London - any path you take opens some options and closes others.

What I can remember is why I felt that way. I hadn't had any major health issues, but I'd had enough encounters with health services to have an impact: stitches and a broken arm when I was a kid, mole biopsies and wisdom teeth extraction as a teenager, a varicocelectomy and sexual health screenings as an adult. What I remember the most about these encounters is the nurses, their presence not just during, but before and after each procedure, tending to and soothing me, patiently answering my unending questions. I remember how much calmer and reassured they made me feel, and at one point thinking I wanted to be that person for somebody else.

A little over five years ago, I was that person. My mother was diagnosed that February with stage IV lung cancer; she underwent one round of chemotherapy, but decided that the effects weren't worth the few extra months she might gain, and refused further non-palliative treatment. She was fine for a while, but around August she started to slow down, and by the end of October, my sisters and I all recognised what was coming. I flew to Illinois to live with them and take care of my mom.

At first she was just weak and needed help in and out of bed and her wheelchair, but soon she needed to be hoisted up and down. Next came the pain, finding ways of mitigating it without diminishing her awareness: patches in the morning, ibuprofen in the afternoon, morphine for a good night's sleep. As the tumours spread and grew, she became weaker; her right arm gave out, followed by her legs, and she relied on me completely not to be bed-ridden. Of course, eventually she was; it became too difficult and painful to get out of bed, so my sisters and I took turns tending to her, feeding her, cleaning her, helping ease her pain.

She died a few days after getting into the bed for the last time; she hated being dependent, so we were all glad it was quick. Those were the hardest months of my life, but also the most thankful and purposeful. I was glad every day I could be there for my mom, to help her through the difficult end of her life. I could see on her face when she was scared, or the pain was coming back. And getting to be that person - the one who calmed and reassured her - felt like the most natural thing in the world.

When I was 19, I didn't know what I wanted to do, other than get out of my hometown and travel.  I knew education was the route out, so I studied hard and received a BSc in Computer Science with honours from a top-tier engineering school in the Northeast, followed by a job in technology at IBM. After five years, I moved to London and sat an MBA to expand my career options, landing a job at Morgan Stanley, then Barclays.  I've had a challenging, varied and successful career in competitive, ever-changing industries, but the primary rewards have been outside of the workplace. As I've begun ticking into my 40s, I've reassessed what I want out of the rest of my professional life. I want to dedicate my time, capabilities and energy to something that is more personally rewarding and meaningful, and the only thing that makes sense to me is that thought that's been bouncing around in my head for more than a decade: being that person for someone - being a nurse.

Shaun H. Coley ~ Islington ~ London N1 ~ UK ~ shaunism.blogspot.co.uk

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