Today we celebrate International Nurses’ Day. Being a nurse myself, I could never let the day slide by unnoticed like blank pages. As Covid-19 pandemic continues to wreak havoc in the world, the  function and duties of nurses continue to be illuminated globally. I take this opportunity to give my honest reflections of my journey as a nurse.

I did not choose nursing, it chose me. Then when it was done choosing me, I chose it.  Walk with me. I never thought there was a career called nursing. Back when I was a little girl with wild dreams, nurses wore white dresses and white caps on their heads and looked more like nuns than professionals I would relate to. The sterile smell of a hospital corridor infuriated me. What with the now and then scream of children like me whose cries emanated from rooms threateningly labelled ‘Injection Room.’ That was mortifying.

My elder sister and I would later watch several movies of science gone horribly wrong at one of our cousin’s houses. We swore that medicine and anything related to that was a no-go zone. You may ask me what my career dreams were as a child. I would lie if I gave you a clear answer. At some point I wanted to be a magistrate. I had seen so much injustice growing up that I wanted to jail a few people. Sometimes a repertoire of vengeful emotions would make me study harder than I normally would. My motives were purely selfish. I loved it. Mathematics quickly quashed my dreams of ever studying law.

My What-I-Want-To-Be-When-I-Grow-Up answers were as unstable as the vagaries of drought and floods. By the time I was done with my high school education, I was ready to study  anything. Though I had applied for some courses at several universities as every final year candidate in high school did, I knew I would not go to university because my parents could never afford it. What was left was a desire to be and study anything. Anything that would rescue me from the pangs of lack, hunger and mortal poverty that was whistling sombre tunes in my family. I wanted out.

I performed fairly well in my end of year examination. Kenyatta University happily invited me for one of the courses I had selected. We all knew that was a mirage. After a few months of teaching in a local private primary school in the slum as an untrained teacher, a chance to become a nurse materialized. I was not having it. My elder sister, who acts like my mother in almost all areas of my life, was not having it either. We covertly detested hospitals. We could not discuss this with our parents. In traditional Africa, Parents do not discuss issues with their children. They only tell them. Instructional. Children were to be seen not heard. It is embedded in an unwritten constitution, highlighted in invisible ink.

My uncles would later ask me to apply for interviews of a nursing course that was advertised in one of the local dailies. They coerced me through tales of being choosy in life. They admonished me with proverbs of beggars not being choosers. I angrily gave in. I applied for the nursing course at this auspicious all-girls mission-based medical training college in the cold, tea slopes of Limuru town. I was invited for interview. I was perplexed to listen to girls in the waiting bay tell stories of how they had tried several nursing schools before being invited for this interview. Every one of them was looking forward to being admitted to study nursing. How pitiful, I thought.

I never spoke to any of them. I wore an unfriendly wrinkled scowl on my face which was an outward demonstration of the ectopic feeling within me. I would have wanted to be anywhere than here. I was interviewed by a panel of well-dressed men and women who were quite impressed by my flat answers. The written exam was a no brainer for me. I passed. I hoped I would fail the interview since I was very indifferent with my tone of voice and certainly my replies. How wrong I was. I received the admission letter a week after this interview.

The question of school fees was soon resolved through my Computer Studies teacher who I will forever remain indebted to. This is a long story. Suffice to say that my love for poems and anything literature helped me get someone to sponsor my education.

It took me several years to accept that I am a nurse.  That is why I get mortified when people say nursing is a vocation. I was not called to be a nurse. I had no option. However, as time went by and I became a registered nurse, the injustices within healthcare in Kenya made me choose nursing. It sounds twisted. Nursing might not have been my choice of career, but I chose it once I got familiar with it. Today, as a United Kingdom Registered Nurse, there is no other place I would rather be than in nursing. When I write what I write and people get tempted to call me a doctor, I humbly remind them I am a nurse. Elevating the role of the nurse is my lifetime  mission.

Nursing has taught me to fight, to struggle and to celebrate small victories. Nursing has tamed my wild rage and harnessed it into a steady geometric rise in interconnections. Nursing has opened various doors in my life. I have realized that I could still study medical law and pursue a legal profession. I could study journalism and become a medical journalist. I could study global health, economics and policy making and become a health policy expert and consultant. I could be a clinical researcher and get into the world of clinical trials. Nursing can still act as the base to my once upon a time dream of solving murder mysteries as a forensic nurse!

As the world celebrates nurses today. I have chosen to share my journey to direct any student out there in the world that it is okay to have shifting career dreams. You will not always get it right in one shot. I went into nursing blindly, but I am glad I did. My mother wanted to be a nurse. She therefore decided to live her dream indirectly through me. What a hilariously cunning lady she is! I tease her today that I made a better nurse than she did in her dreams. You should see the smile that that plasters on her face. If there is a pro-nurse person that I know of, it has to be my mother. She even supports the frequent industrial actions of nurses in Kenya. I believe she can easily go to the streets demanding nurses’ rights if she is not checked. Ha ha.

Nursing is not confined to the sterile walls of a hospital. It is not just cute uniforms and soft voices to respond to patient care. No. Nursing is a bold voice of reason and questions in healthcare practices. We are the link between physicians who show up on call and during hurried ward rounds, and true patient needs. It is important for a nurse to be educated to a high level. Had I known that nursing was a career, I would have enrolled at the university instead of going to a college for a diploma. If you are fascinated by higher education, get a degree in nursing. Should that be an improbability, do not shy away from a diploma. It formed the basis of my career. The college I trained at churned out some of the best nurses in Kenya. I have no idea if this is still the case. I was lucky to fall into the hands of tutors who were hellbent on revolutionizing nursing in Kenya.

I encourage nurses to identify their interest early on in their careers. Do not be a jack of all trades and master of none. Medicine and nursing are two very diverse yet related fields. There are specialties in any field. I have previously written about this on this blog. Please click on the category of Nursing Matters and go through some of these. Kenya offers specialization courses in several areas. I took nephrology nursing at Kenyatta National Hospital (KNH) School of Nursing. The lecturers I found at KNH are the reason I am upgrading my studies to a degree at the University of Derby here in the United Kingdom. They made nursing education attractive. They made the case of the nurse so convincingly that all I wanted to do was go back to school and study until I could not anymore.

These lecturers proved that nursing is an autonomous profession. They helped me become a critical writer and thinker. They planted a seed of questions in me. They challenged the system that saw nurses as subordinates to medicine. They inspired me. Perhaps this is why I love teaching. When you speak to a class of students, you have no idea what your words will do to just one student. That student was me and several others. I am yet to meet any nurse that went to KNH that is not a change agent in their areas of work.

University of Nairobi is one of the universities in Kenya that has several specialty courses at a master’s degree level. Though a higher diploma is a great addition, true specialization is at a master’s level. As a nurse, you may want to skip a higher diploma and go straight for a master’s degree in any of your field of interest. I encourage diploma holders to consider pursuing a degree and then a master’s degree. Go for a higher national diploma if that is what you can afford at the moment. That is what I could afford back then.

If you left me unmonitored, I could go on and on about nursing standards and education. To every nurse in the world, may your shoes be comfortable and your back never stiff. From my heart to yours, Happy International Nurses’ Day because you know what, we rock this world baby!