One Of Lifes’ Biggest Decisions, Knowing When To Quit
by Nanny Lowe
It was one of the hottest June days ever in our little Nova Scotia town, and everything was still, the flowers all in bloom with the buzz of the bumble bees, the moan of the lawn mowers and the swish of the lawn sprinklers making it a very usual summer day. It was the year, 2000, and this was no usual day for me. As a matter of fact it was a most unusual day, and one that stays with me although with time the angst of it has lessened. That afternoon I sat and collected my thoughts, surrounded by boxes, books, and photographs in their frames lying on every bit of space the house allowed. This was the day the packing started, and tomorrow would be the day I worked my last shift at Hants Community Hospital, a hospital I had worked at for years, with nurses I had known for the same length of time as my stay.
Many of the nurses were good friends, many of my patients had become special to me, and it was so bittersweet, this leaving it all. But chores had to be done that day, so I forged on and prepared myself for the ‘last day at work’.
The next morning dawned just as hot and hazy as the day before. And I took special care as I readied myself for this day. The decision to leave and return to Newfoundland had not been made lightly. As a matter of fact it had been never in our thoughts until the year 2000 came, and all of a sudden it seemed that it was imperative that I do something to change my life, a life of work, work and more work. I was 51 years old. But the decision had been made and I was more than ready to return to the land of my birth, looking forward to feeling more grounded by my Labrador coast and Fortune Bay roots, living closer to family again, and knowing I was back to stay.
My nursing career had almost killed me at times, and at other times it had saved my life. A motivational speaker I had heard many years before had told us that our job should be one third of our lives, our family another third, and the other third for ourselves, for personal development, spiritual pursuits and recreational activities. Many times I had allowed my work to become two thirds of my life, if not more, the other third or what was left was for family, but none was left for me, something I never even realized was happening. It was unhealthy, and in retrospect, so unnecessary. But the shortage of nurses and the higher demands of the job required this, or so I thought at the time.
When I would almost fall, I would pull back, regroup, and then forge ahead, gradually getting better at setting limits and priorities. I loved my work, but I seemed bound and determined to let it devour my whole life. So I had made the ultimate decision after all those years, just when I got reasonably good at priorizing, to walk away. Nobody believed I would do it, but I did, I had no choice. The time had come to change a way of life that was actually a hazard to my health.
The last day was so bittersweet, I wore my ‘CAP’ just for old times sake, as the cap had long been cast aside as a requirement for nurses. But we had a lot of fun that last day in spite of all the work.
One young nurse approached me and asked "How do you keep that thing on your head?" It is a special secret but that day I took my cap off and showed her how it was done, and she was amazed.
Then she asked if she could put it on, sure she could. Being the same age as my daughter, with dark brown shiny hair, she loved divine in the cap with the black band, the Grace General Hospitals’ special cap with the black band that I earned in 1969. It was the same band, the same strip of velvet I had first worn when I became a Registered Nurse.
I was struck by the similarity of the color of her hair, the style so much like mine when I started out 32 years before, that an unexpected moment of teary-eyed nostalgia washed over me. I felt as if I were looking at myself so many years ago, so many shifts ago. I put the cap back in its’ place, gathered up my things and said my farewells. A party was planned for later in the week, but there were patients and their families, doctors, lab staff, dietary staff and all those people who make up the system of a working hospital, that I needed to say farewell to in the proper way. So after all my farewells, I walked out the door of that hospital with no regrets, just memories, and lots of good memories.
Nursing has changed, but it needed to change. Nurses are more and more becoming a part of the team of professionals who treat the ‘whole’ patient. The never-ending paperwork will be there, computers or not, and nursing is moving into the twenty-first century, at times kicking and screaming, at other times quietly flowing into the changes. But Nursing will always be a caring profession, and the young men and women who carry on the work will have their own ‘watershed’ moments, their own stories to tell.
As for me, I am back where I need to be, in Newfoundland, enjoying the water, the boats, the boil-ups, writing, photography, reuniting with old friends, living closer to family and living in a new home, built for retirement. At times the road has been rougher than I would have wished but the ratio of the thirds is more even now. I may finally have gotten it right-I think!
I miss my Nursing career, I miss the connections with fellow nurses, but it is easily overcome because I have three sisters who are nurses in various fields, and we do ‘ nurse-speak’ many times. Writing, having a new grand daughter who is the love of my life, and having more time to be ‘ME’ is not so bad after all.
As a very wise and experienced nurse told me years ago at the Grace Hospital, "The hardest thing in life is knowing when to quit."
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