An extended metaphor comparing a fledgeling learning how to fly to a new intensive care unit (ICU) nurse navigating the critical care environment. The fears. The tears. The cheers.
The Piece
Mama bird shoved me out of the nest.
I cried out in startlement. My calls were drenched in anguish and distress.
Instinctively I flapped my wings, but in haphazard fashion. In theory, I knew it was the correct course of action, but the movements felt awkward and uncomfortable. Still I hurled toward the ground, exhausting myself in desperation.
I was literally taking a crash course in flying.
“Was I going to hit the asphalt?” I thought as I tumbled through the air. Wind through your feathers usually feels wonderful, but not like this.
My nestmates glided next to me. We had all been irrevocably pushed out of the nest. But such ease with the way they danced in the air! Somersaults and barrel rolls, galore.
They scrutinized my flight pattern and left me with this simple evaluation: “You know how to fly. You’re a smart person – you’ll figure it out.” And away, they coasted.
So I closed my eyes and stretched my wings out.
“I know how to fly. I know how to fly. I know how to fly.“ I repeated the mantra until it stuck with me. Until I (somewhat) believed it.
And so I soared.
My wings caught the current and elevated me to new levels: the highest of mountains, the lowest of valleys.
I inhaled slowly to steady my heartbeat and exhaled calmly in relief.
Finally! I could freely enjoy the skies.
The Analysis
If memory from middle school science class serves correct, birds physically push their fledgelings out of the nest in order to accelerate the nest-to-sky process. Last July, this metaphor materialized in my brain on the conclusion of my CCAP program.
CCAP is the program that new intensive care unit (ICU) nurses undergo when they do not have previous critical care experience. (Pardon me, as the expanded acronym escapes me.)
What new graduate fellows learn in a year, we learn in three months. It’s a sprint in comparison to a marathon. My nurse educator lovingly describes it as “nursing school on steroids”.
Even with previous experience on a medical-surgical floor, I sat dumbfounded in each and every class. I had never seen some of these equipment. It was the first I had heard of some of these medications. We never went this in depth into pathophysiology when I was in nursing school.
My brain was on a strike, refusing to recognize the knowledge presented before me. I felt duly unprepared.
In the upcoming weeks post-orientation, I was highly anxious. There were some nights that I could not sleep.
Even when I was on break at work, I could not mentally separate myself from the job. I spent my breaks charting and researching and then reviewing some more when I got home.
On my nights off, I couldn’t even look at the material. My heart would go into a panic, overwhelmed by all that I did not comprehend.
But one day, my brain understood. My comments during report went from “I don’t know,” to “Can you recommend an increase in dose or frequency for Mr. X’s medication? It seems that about an hour before his scheduled dose, he begins to become restless.”
I accepted that I will never be omniscient. I am not J.A.R.V.I.S. nor C-3P0.
But I felt comfortable.
I felt confident.
I am comfortable.
I am confident.
I am an ICU nurse.
Christine Vera Polintan 