This just in:

I passed the NCLEX.

Whew.

A cup of coffee

I've been spending most hours of each day this past week at various book stores and coffee shops around Cambridge, studying for the boards that I will take tomorrow. As much as I joke, I am nervous. Not passing renders me job-less for the next three months.

Here's today's best (i.e.: worst) question of the day. For the record, there are certainly some difficult questions, but just enough of a sprinkling of funny ones to make me plug on.

A nurse is performing peritoneal hemodialysis on a client. A second nurse observes her sitting by the client, drinking coffee and eating a donut and discussing the events of the client’s week. The first nurse should

a. Appreciate what a wonderful therapeutic relationship the nurse and client have
b. Grab a cup of coffee and join in on the conversation
c. Ask the client if he would like a cup of coffee as well (how rude of the first nurse!)
d. Ask the second nurse to refrain from eating and drinking near the client.

I'll grab a cup of coffee, thanks for asking….

You go to bed, I'll guard the door.

With a title like "annals of nursing" it is my duty to share the less glamorous parts of the beginnings of the profession: NCLEX preparation and multiple choice exams.

I will dedicate the next week of my life to studying for - and hopefully to passing - the nursing licensing boards.

I have been, however, less than impressed with the practice questions and study guides, especially regarding cultural competencies. Here is an example question:

A European American (comment: what? a French-American? A Caucasian? An Italian-American?) has just been admitted to your floor and needs a dinner tray ordered. The physician has ordered a "regular diet." Which menu will you chose?

a. raw fish and rice (comment: when was the last time you saw raw fish on the menu in a hospital? perhaps 1918, when oysters were the item of choice)
b. maize and beans (comment: by maize, you mean corn?)
c. steak and potatoes
d. salad, diet cola, low-cal dressing

Yes my friends, the answer they were looking for was, sadly, "c." Leaving out all of us "European Americans" who prefer sushi, salad and even maize, to steak and potatoes.

This question is rivaled by one I encountered while in my “Psychiatric Nursing Practice” class at Columbia. The question was something to the effect of:

You find your client cowering in the corner of his room in an in-patient psych ward. He states that “you’d better be careful. Alien invaders are marching through that door. They want to plant computer chips in our brains. I need to stay here to make sure this floor is safe.” The appropriate response is.

1. You are hallucinating. There are no aliens
2. You go back to bed and rest. I’ll guard the door for a while to protect us.
3. No wonder you’re on a psych floor…
4. Tell me more about what you’re seeing.
   
   Way to go NCLEX.

Home, again

I am home. Done with my far-flung adventures full of sea lions, blue-footed boobies, runs through cactus filled hills with smiling kids, clinical work, rickshaws, fabric shopping and delicious new flavors.

It is raining in Cambridge now, suitably, matching my mood.

I wasn't able to write while in India - internet cafes were sterile and air-conditioned and I had no desire to sit inside and miss all of the colorful world outside them. The trip was wonderful on many levels and for many reasons.

I flew to Delhi accompanying, or accompanied by, 34 Indian exchange students returning home after a year in the States. They quickly became my brood, and I missed them immediately after putting them on trains and planes to return to their families.

The trip was almost smooth - save one lost passport on the plane while flying from Frankfurt to Delhi. After having each kid check their bags to make sure they didn't have it (accidentally, of course), and turning the plane upside down with flashlights and the help of the cleaning crew upon landing, we considered it gone. After 3 hours of patient negotiations with 4 or 5 Indian officials, each of whom needed to write in a book, stamp the book, and look her up on the computer, she was able to leave. We reached the hotel by 3am and I was in bed by 4. At about 5am, I sat up, awoken by a knock at the door. "Is Rosha-mam there? We need to talk to her, alone." Rushing outside in my pajamas, quickly analyzing their appropriate modesty, I met three of the students who all appeared, wide eyed, to have seen a ghost. "What's wrong?" I asked. "We found the passport...." They didn't know how or why, but it had turned up in one boy's bag who was neither friends with her, nor sitting anywhere in her vicinity. Some mysteries are better left unsolved.

The rest of my time in India felt more like a home coming than an exotic adventure.

This feeling still strikes me as strange: I am not Indian, I have spent more time in many other countries than India, I have no Indian family members and don't speak more than 10 phrases of Hindi. Why then, does this country, bustling with beggars, rickshaws, incense, diversity and food crackling in hot pots of oil, feel so comfortable?

Perhaps this feeling can be attributed to my family's long-lasting love affair with India: our eating meals on Indian stainless steel plates, our making of chai each Sunday morning, the use of "pani" for water and "tik-hey" for OK. My parents and extended family have incorporated bits and pieces of Indian culture into our rituals and routines and this trip reminded me of the striking power of the every-day and of family tradition.

My aesthetic sense also feels alive and inspired in India - the black and white Hindi text written on the buildings, the bright, bold and beautiful colors of the salwar camises and the stark white of the courta pajamas worn by the Muslim men. India provides stimulation for all senses - horns honking, the breeze of ceiling fans mixed with the pounding heat of the 45 C degree temperatures, the scent of incense and curries, the colors of the clothes and buildings and light of the sun. My mind was never bored.

Or perhaps it is the countries impeccable use of trains and bicycles (in the form of stately black heavy bicycles for one, two or three people, or converted to the ever colorful bicycle rickshaws), my two most favorite means of transportation.

Last, but not least, my company made me feel at home. I stayed with Katherine, an old and dear friend who is conducting research for her PhD in India. She speaks fluent Hindi and now Urdu, can bargain with the best of them, and looks as if she is floating as she walks, her lovely dupattas flowing behind her.

Yes, I fell somewhat in love, and miss India already, but I can't complain.

I have an exciting year ahead - exploring the realities of nursing, taking some classes in Public Health, and learning the ropes of a domestic romantic partnership. I will continue to make chai in the morning, to add garam masala to my veggies, to prance around the house wearing colorful fabrics draped around my shoulders, and I will continue to keep the feelings inspired by India, alive.