My Firsts... as a Nurse in the U.S.

I came to America with just a Red Cross work experience. I taught first aid, responded to disasters, and did some fundraising. But my excellent n0-holds-barred clinical experience as a student nurse in military hospitals had provided me with more than what any US-trained student nurse had ever experienced, then and now. So, I embraced my foray into the United States, with unbridled enthusiasm and with great expectations and anticipation.

The bright lights of New York City beckoned. Across 8509 miles and 20 hours of the turbulent plane ride. As a 23-year-old, the world was my oyster. It was the promise of a fantastic adventure that had sustained me through five years of nursing school. I was more than ready for my many firsts.


First Hospital

In January 1983, there were twenty of us young nurses who came on our first plane ride across the continents. We were the first big wave of recruits to descend on Roosevelt Island, a waterfront community situated in the East River of New York City between Manhattan and Queens.

The brochure for Bird S. Coler Hospital in Roosevelt Island looked much more impressive than the hospital itself. Coler Hospital is/was one of two chronic care hospitals specializing in rehabilitative care (the other one is Goldwater Hospital) located on the island.

It proved to be a great first hospital because it was not a jarring first exposure to the American hospital system; it was a slow and easy transition to independence for this Manila city girl who had ventured outside the safe haven of my native land under the protection of family and the comforts of home.

My first unit was the Intensive Care Unit, but it really was more of a step-down unit for acute episodes that needed more care, and some patients had to be transferred to other acute hospitals when we could not provide any more services.

The breathtaking view of Manhattan across the East River and the expansive grounds of the hospital made up for the not-so state of art facility. The winter months brought in the magical Currier and Ives display. And the Fall foliage reigned supreme with its riot of color that framed the hospital building like a Monet. In the spring and summer months, we lunched on the hospital grounds surrounded by the lush gardens and the flowering magnolia and cherry blossoms trees, with river breeze on our faces.

We occasionally waved at the passing sailboats and even threw some kisses at the bare-chested men on those boats, emboldened by the fact that we would never see them again.





First Tram Ride

In our first month, we were housed in a dorm near the hospital. The Nursing department had given us a week to settle in before our Orientation. Our group of 12 ventured out on our second day. Our destination: Manhattan. The rest of the nurses were still in bed crying out for their families in the Philippines.

Our group was luckier; we were single and unencumbered by sentimentalities. That’s what we told each other in the morning, although we had muffled our cries in the pillows as we wept for our mommies.

The Roosevelt Island tram was scary and exhilarating at the same time. We dared not take the bus that would have taken us circuitously to Queens just so we can take the underground subway train into Manhattan. Anyway, the tram was the direct way to reach the place we'd just seen in the movies.

So off we went to explore. I asked the security officer for directions, then also asked if he had a map. He looked bewildered by my request, then turned around and grabbed a "mop" from a passing housekeeper. That was my first lesson to mind my accent and my pronunciation. We quickly learned that there was a huge difference between "bag" and "bug". We were now being "Americanized".

With the cable car suspended and swaying 250 feet up in the air, like the newbies that we were, we whooped excitedly and unashamedly as the east side of the midtown Manhattan skyline came nearer. The sun was setting down and we were bathed in the glorious colors of orange and red. The Queensboro bridge was the backdrop in this post-card perfect scene. It was a magnificent welcome to our new home.

Then we were in the middle of 59th Street, with too many cars, and too many people rushing off everywhere and the impressive (and expensive) Bloomingdale's store in front of us. The city was vibrant and humming with activity; the City that Never Sleeps. We had arrived!





First Patient

I called her "Sessa"; a 75-year-old Hispanic woman who had been in the unit for years for chronic renal failure and thrice-weekly peritoneal dialysis.

In my group, I was the first nurse to volunteer to learn the complicated bedside procedure using the Tenckhoff catheter. Pretty soon, I was an expert on dialysates, instill time, and dwell times. I was bold and fearless. It helped that our nephrologist was the very cute Dr. C. We had great memories of his different colored Lacoste polo shirts with the matching briefs that we have spied when he bent down to talk to Sessa.

Sessa was cantankerous and expected me to speak to her in Spanish. I struggled with my pidgin Spanish (even though I had four years of instruction in school). She turned out to actually speak good English, and I passed her test because I did not cower and break into tears. I treated her as my grandmother, and always had a hug and a kiss for her.

First Patient Death

Sessa was my first patient death. Just before we came on shift, she suffered a cardiac arrest in the unit and passed away. We just spent six months together and I never even had a chance to say goodbye. Two other nurses (who she had proclaimed as her other favorites) assisted me as we washed her uremic skin and combed her gray-matted hair. There was no relative coming to claim her body, but we wanted her to look her best.

As I cleaned the gel from the defibrillator paddles off her fragile chest, the finality of the moment gripped us all, and soon all three of us were crying. The head nurse offered to take over, but we refused, controlled our emotions, and resumed giving Sessa her last bed bath, our final respects.


First Leadership Experience

Our bunch of RNs, BSN-prepared novices took over the reins from the LPNs who used to be in charge of the units. Suddenly, here we were, naive and timid, suddenly being groomed to run the unit. Within two years, I was appointed as the day head nurse in an in-patient unit, with a staff of eight RNs and twelve nurses' aides.

We adapted very well, and for my part, I felt that the nurses' aides welcomed us and treated us as family. We only needed the flimsiest of excuses to have a party. Our shared food bonded us. We feasted on Caribbean jerk chicken, Indian samosa, American hot dogs, Italian lasagna, and of course, Filipino food (adobo, pancit, lumpia). The "lechon" was a big hit among the hospital staff.

I had great nursing supervisors, but I learned more about leadership from two nurses' aides: Elena and Mrs. H. They showed me how to lead with humility, love, and respect by giving me their perspective on how to win the other staff over. They did not dazzle with an alphabet soup of degrees and certifications, but they possessed the wisdom of being the matriarchs of their families. and an innate understanding of emotional intelligence and common sense.

Elena and Mrs. H told me what I needed to hear, not what would have pleased me. From them, I learned how to mean what I say and say what I mean without being mean. They taught me how to listen, to really listen with my heart.



First Snow

I remember it like it was only yesterday. My first snow happened in my second month in America.

We have moved to a new apartment off Roosevelt Island. I was standing at the bus stop near the hospital shivering in the cold winter air. Fully bundled up, thick wool coat, scarf, and ear muffs. Then, the white fluffy crystals came down from the sky. There is something magical, and cleansing with the first snow. I raised my face up to the heavens, uttered a simple "Thank you" to God, opened my mouth, and caught the snowflakes on my tongue. Sweet!

The next day, the hospital grounds were blanketed in six inches of a winter wonderland. My friend and I looked at each other, and by mutual agreement, veered off the path to the bus stop. We went to the side of the hospital where the ground was unmarred by footsteps. Virgin snow, and no one around to laugh at us. We quickly laid down on the ground and made snow angels; arms and legs outstretched and flapped them up and down in and out. We giggled as the disturbed snow swirled around us.

Our shared bliss was suddenly interrupted by muted laughter. Not to worry, they were just two other friends who had the same idea. Soon, there were four of us, Filipina nurses on the snow-covered grounds. Good that there were no patients to witness this.

It was two decades later when I did the snow angel again. In my backyard with our dog Brownie on top of my chest, peering in curiosity at me as I lay down on the snowy ground. Sweet!





First Doctor Crush

Dr. L was a brown-eyed blond doctor who moon-lighted every weekend in my unit. With his Nordic good looks, he probably had a girlfriend in every hospital he worked at, but he was the first ever non-Filipino male who tickled my fancy. My other friends said that he was a snob with a God complex, but for some reason, he was always nice to me.

One day, I was waiting for my turn at the cafeteria and pointed out the french fries to the cafeteria worker. From behind me, Dr. L chuckled and said, “I like french fries, too”. Who’d think that such a simple sentence would make me stammer and render me blubbering like a fool?

Then, as bad timing as it can get, Dr. L’s pager beeped. A code arrest in one of the skilled nursing units. Romance (and lunch) interrupted. He looked at the soda can that I was holding, and with a sheepish smile of apology took it from me, sipped from it, returned the soda can, and said, “Thank you.”

Woah! What else can I do but give the soda can back to him, and said “Take it”. I don’t know how I should have handled it like a more sophisticated woman would do, but his gesture was a sensual action that I was too naive and uncomfortable to respond to. I thought, “Dalagang pilipina ako!”, a typical conservative Filipina. I was overwhelmed.

Truth be told, a tiny wild part of me swooned. But, in all my innocence and probably due to my unfamiliarity with modern courtship, I convinced myself the blatant flirting was disrespectful. I gave him the cold shoulder the next time we met in the unit.

The internet search yielded a recent picture of Dr. L. He’s now a hematologist in the Bronx. He still sports the same round-rimmed glasses, older but still has a boyish charm that had captivated me all those years ago.




First Save

The evening head nurse screamed at me one day for failing to oversee a nurse who was taking care of a patient who fell and sustained a hip fracture at noon time. In all our confusion, the patient did not receive any pain medication, until the evening shift came. The primary nurse was busy passing medications for the rest of the unit, and I was too caught up in preparing the incident report and the transfer papers for the acute hospital in Queens.

I started to protest, but then I realized that I had command responsibility. I was hurt, but I accepted the censure. My inexperience was showing, and it took my more experienced peer just a few minutes what I failed to see. We failed the patient; the guilt kept me up that night.

The next morning, I was rounding with this head nurse (she had done a 16-hour shift) when I heard a gurgling sound. The elderly patient's color was still good, but she was gagging. I looked at her mouth and saw a big mucous plug at the back of her throat. With a gloved hand, I reached in, and scraped the thick plug off the roof of her palate. And the gurgling stopped.

The evening head nurse patted my back and said, "You just saved a life." I went back to check on the patient. She was resting comfortably; she had dementia and probably had no idea what just happened, but I squeezed her hand and whispered, "I'm glad I was around when you needed help. Thank you."

The incident sparked an interest in me to try emergency nursing, where saving lives happened every day.



There were many firsts...

My four years at Coler had given me much more in terms of my growth as a nurse and as a person. It did not matter that it was a small hospital tucked away on a small island. I loved the hospital and its warm-hearted quaint community of staff and patients... my first hospital.

It was the start of an incredible journey in a foreign land, away from family and childhood friends. I was young, adventurous, and full of dreams. Suddenly independent, suddenly an adult. And I was surrounded by my new friends and the patients that I cared very much about.

Sadly, I lost contact with my nursing friends; we went onto different paths and we don't see each other anymore. Some of my patients had long been gone, and the hospital had changed and merged with the other hospital but the fond memories are forever locked in my heart.












http://nurses.definitelyfilipino.com/index.php/2012/03/my-firsts-as-a-nurse-in-the-u-s/

A Prude Newbie's Sauna Experience

"Don't worry, nobody will be staring at you. Everybody minds their own business.", Lynn's friends assured her.

She received a holiday gift card from her fellow nurses for a whole-day stay in a Korean sauna in College Point, New York. A day of pampering. The brochure promised a day of relaxation and rejuvenation. The nurses gushed about the soothing experience of a hot sauna, full body scrub, and massage and brushed away her questions about showing some skin. They cited the health benefits of saunas: improving microcirculation, and reducing vasoconstriction and hypertension.

In European and other Asian cultures, saunas were regarded as an important part of daily life. A high-end spa website offered "an ideal environment for a rejuvenating spa vacation for both the body and spirit and for rediscovering the peace there is to be found in silence." So before Lynn went to her spa treat, she envisioned a totally relaxing encounter. Peace and quiet, no assault to the senses, just the soothing and deserved pampering.



The Korean spa is not frequented by celebrities but still is an impressive, state-of-the-art facility with high ratings from its customers. Lynn was met with valet parking and friendly receptionists who handed her a tacky but cute peach-and-yellow top and shorts ensemble. A high-tech wrist bracelet for the locker and for additional purchases in the restaurant and other services reminded Lynn of the wrist bracelets that her hospital uses to keep the wandering patients from absconding.

Lynn was directed to a row of lockers just off the reception desk. The receptionist handed her two small hand towels, not the beach towels that can cover just about everything. The towels were about 18 inches by 24 inches, not meant to be cover-ups, but more to pat yourself dry. Modesty be damned. Huh??? Just a portent of things to come. Not a place for the shy.

As she was standing by the lockers, some Korean girls claimed the locker nearby, and without even any sign of self-consciousness, proceeded to take everything off. Butt-naked and not bothering with any covers, they sauntered off to the pools.

Lynn was not easily intimidated, but the idea of walking through the open hall without a stitch on is something she never thought she would ever, ever do even though this is a female-only place. The place was huge. Immediately to her right were the stand-alone showers. A few steps away were the heated swimming pool.

Lynn had erroneously thought that there would be private jacuzzis and massage areas where she would only drop the towels just as she quickly jumped into the pool or climbed onto a massage bed. Lo and behold, three Russian ladies in their 70s passed by, nonchalantly going on with business, and made Lynn realize that she was the only one with a "deer-in-the-headlight" look. Everyone around her was oblivious to all the nudity. Forget the neon lights, her stilted walk and her firm grasp on the hand towels to cover strategic areas might as well have labeled her as a Newbie.

This is a place where inhibitions are forgotten, and where average women can enjoy the benefits of the sauna, to reclaim the right to shine alongside the skinny models of today. Unlike the young, her body had succumbed to gravity. Lynn tried to psyche herself to the inevitable unveiling, "Isn't this what we want all along, that society accepts women of all sizes, warts and all, and in my case, bulges and all? A place where Reubenesque figures hold court, where there's no shame in imperfections, and where there's freedom from the constraints of society's idea of perfection. Should be liberating, right?"

But first, she needed to work on liberating her personal hang-ups and inhibitions. Born and bred in an ultra-conservative family in the Philippines where showing cleavages were frowned upon, this sauna experience is a test of how liberated she had become. Growing up, women with "Walang K" (loosely translated as "no right to flaunt") received scathing glances and sometimes disrespectful catcalls. Problem is, Lynn's Prude gene was very dominant still, even though she had spent her summers in water parks like Splish-Splash where people paraded around with skimpy clothing that paid homage to misplaced and more-than-generous curves. She stayed away from form-hugging clothes and plunging necklines.

Lynn mustered the strength to shower alongside the women, mindful of prison etiquette. She darted quickly to the pool, dropping the towel to the side only as she dipped into the heated jacuzzi. The pounding jet of water calmed her pounding heartbeat; distracted her from the shame, and eventually, relaxation took hold. Bliss on earth. It was like that stress-reducer Calgon TV commercial from a long time ago, "Calgon, take me away". Her muscles loosened, and she thought, "If other women are enjoying their sauna experience, despite their less-than-perfect bodies, who says I should be cringing every time something jiggles?"

Feeling more courageous and adventurous, Lynn ventured over to the full-body massage section. She expected private rooms but instead, the huge room featured several slabs of concrete. Exfoliation comes courtesy of stone-faced middle-aged Korean women attired in two-piece bikinis with loofahs which they wielded with professional insouciance. Not knowing what to expect, Lynn meekly lay prone on the concrete slab, closing her eyes in shame, to close off the visual of naked women in slabs just like meat in a slaughterhouse. The worker expertly massaged her tight muscles on the neck, back, and all over and all her aches and pains went away. Lynn sighed with pleasure, "Ahhh, Heaven."

Then the masseuse started to do chiropractor work: stretching, pulling, snapping, and cracking. Lynn panicked. The image of EMS crews responding to her 911 call of a fractured back came to mind. Would they recognize her as the triage nurse who gave them hell every time they turned in an incomplete ambulance crew report? OMG, would they just run her off to her hospital as a Trauma Team? Would the ER people recover from the initial shock and then take turns to offer Foley catheters? Arggghhhh!!!! Lynn was traumatized by the specter of embarrassment.

Freaked out by the experience, Lynn decided to abandon her plans for a facial. She might be that unlucky one trapped underneath a mud masque or held hostage by the one-hour seaweed treatment while her grumbling stomach threatens with diarrhea. She did not want to push her luck.

Lynn survived. No cracked spine, no embarrassing trip to the ED. She half-wished that the spa would sell those "I survived" t-shirts. She spent a few minutes deep breathing to recover. To her surprise, her joints felt loose and her muscles tingled with appreciation. Her body sizzled with energy as if the masseuse had released the demons of sluggish inactivity and awakened heretofore forgotten cells. Her muscles felt like 25 years old. Thanks to the exfoliation, all the dead skin cells were washed away with warm water. She was a new woman, with reddened but baby soft skin.

The next hour was spent enjoying the hot and cold sauna, especially the clay room with a sea of clay balls. With the awkwardness gone, Lynn felt sophisticated and a woman-of-the-world as she imagined her body responding with improved micro-circulation. Those healthy anti-oxidants were enjoying a free rein inside her body. She was alone inside the sauna, and there was peace in silence.

Lunch on the second floor

Energized and now dressed with the peach and yellow garb, Lynn downed a few California rolls and a refreshing strawberry smoothie. The restaurant food was pricey but tasty.  Tucked in one of the comfortable chaise lounges just off the restaurant, she spent the next hour enjoying Dean Koontz's latest book. Lynn thought, "What a life! So this is how pampering feels."

Except for the initial awkwardness and the momentary terror with the pseudo-chiropractor, she enjoyed the experience. Exhilarating in its uncomfortability. It was humbling in the sense that it exposed her vulnerabilities. It was also a triumphant adventure because she learned to operate outside her comfort zone, accomplishing the unimaginable. Yay! She had shed her inhibitions... and much more. She had successfully accomplished her objective to push her boundaries. She's a new sophisticate. No longer a prude. Buoyed by the experience, she was ready to take on the world.

At the end, Lynn learned that the third floor is unisex, and of course, no nudity. All that agita for nothing. Hah.