First off, I want to tell you bloggers, the ones I follow, that I love love love you! You make me laugh, think, cringe, and altogether be entertained and informed. Thank you and please keep writing!
Second of all – I was reminded yesterday of something that makes me cringe, awfully.
It’s when someone discovers that I’m a nurse.
They quickly get this gleam in their eye and I swear they make stuff up!
“Hey, will you look at this bump I have in my left armpit/groin/on my buttock?”
Or, even more terror invoking: “I/My aunt/My mother has been suffering this cough/rash/these symptoms …
Now I was a competent nurse in my day. I say “in my day” because I imposed an early retirement upon myself after my last manic episode resulted in my taking care of patients, not knowing I was in a dangerous state of mind. If I didn’t know something, I’d look it up, or consult someone. That’s a sign of genius I think – to know that you don’t know.
Anyway, I knew what I was doing 95% of the time, and I gave good care.
But inevitably, when someone asks me an opinion, it is not my area.
I worked in a lot of fields of nursing.
But not pediatrics. Not clinic nursing. Not maternity. And not “will you look at this thing I have?”
And not the thing you have decided to ask me out of the blue.
Hence, the terror.
This is why I usually don’t tell people I’m a nurse. People assume I am a library of knowledge.
And it’s just not so.
I have my area of expertise but it’s never what you actually ask me.
So stop it!