Today I finished reading your book, “The Making of a Nurse.” Although you’ll probably never see this, I want to offer my thanks for your words. All of them. Each and every one.

Twice I’ve begun nursing school and been unable to finish due to life-altering personal issues. In the wake of my second departure, grief, fear and rejection on a nuclear scale saw me, in turn, go on to reject all that I have ever known, including my chosen profession. Ever since, I’ve been wandering on the inside, desperate for someone to save me and give me the answers. But it was only once I stopped flailing and looking for others to pull me out of deep water, that I found I could save my own life by following my heart.

That began a gingerbread trail away from the neurotic cottage of isolation where I could (not that long ago) be found bouncing off padded walls muttering repeatedly “Who am I, who am I?” towards the trees, the wind, the sunset and flowers that beckoned down the path of real life. One of the blooms turned out to be your book, as it grabbed my attention in Chapters one random day.

Of all the books I brought home that day, I read yours, cover to cover, first. You had me at page 50 when you said, “First I got to know a patient’s veins, and then I got to know the patient.”

Walking with you through your life and career to date, I recognized too much of myself to recount them all, but here are a few. Treasuring being with your patients at those most precious moments in their life, having been inspired by a television doctor and nurse pairing, appreciating how nurses are the constant caregivers so different from the doctors who are in and out, and the instropection on hands. My “What is nursing?” paper in university started off with a poem written by a nurse about how we use our hands.

Most importantly, your words cleared the path ahead of me. I see now that I am a nurse already, albeit one without a certificate. But it’s in my heart, there’s no denying it. (Even in video games, I end up playing a healing character, one who’s singular purpose is to help others.) I feel both committed and enthralled by the profession, inspired rather than daunted by its challenges. I look forward to finishing school as soon as I can.

I commend you for writing your story, for doing something about the problems rather than merely complaining, for encouraging future and practicing nurses and for all your years of caring.

Sincerely,
the nurse without a degree… yet
Kalanna

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