I’m Even Signing My Checks This Way Now

Just call me Christina, RN.


I passed! The results appeared sometime late this afternoon, and I was surprised to see them so quickly. (But you can bet I checked three times this morning, and six times during the afternoon.) I can officially call myself a registered nurse, and add “RN” after my name, anytime, anywhere.

And no, I can’t tell you what that strange rash on your hand is. Or if I can, I’m probably just looking it up on WebMD.

This also means when I work tomorrow, I can wear the lovely necklace that my incredibly sweet and way-too-thoughtful friend Karen sent me:


Yay!



Wishing For A Cheat Sheet

Early this morning I took what was perhaps the hardest and most frightening test of my life. At 8:00am, I arrived at a plain-looking office building on the other side of Columbus to take the NCLEX, also known as the licensing exam that is the final step to adding those little “RN” initials after my name.

I read through the introductory materials the receptionist handed me, then had my ID checked, was fingerprinted and photographed, stored my purse, contents of my pockets (yes, I had to turn out my pockets) and watch (no watch allowed) in a locker, and stood at the door waiting to take my test. I was then fingerprinted again at the door, had my ID checked again, and was then seated at my computer workstation, where video cameras tracked my every move and microphones recorded every sound. If I wasn’t nervous before, I certainly was after all of that.

Truthfully, I was nervous. Despite studying for it here and there, I felt completely unprepared for this exam. It’s an incredible amount of material to know all at once, and while I had planned out a study schedule over several weeks, life got in the way and very little scheduled studying happened. My hands trembled as I clicked through the tutorial.

For those who aren’t nurses, here’s how the test works: it’s a computerized adaptive test, meaning it changes based on how you answer each question. The first question is a mid-level question in difficulty. If you answer it correctly, it gives you a harder question next; if you miss it, you’ll get an easier or equal difficulty question. It continues to track the level of competency you’re at with each question, until it reaches a point where it is certain, with 95% accuracy, that you are either at a minimum level of competency to be a nurse, or will not reach that level by the end of the test.

There are 265 questions maximum, but the test can shut off anywhere after the minimum of 75 questions. In other words, the test keeps going until it knows for sure if you’re passing or failing. (A few unlucky ones get randomly selected to take the entire test, even if they’ve achieved competency early on, for control purposes.)

From the very beginning, I felt I was in over my head. The questions seemed to pick apart my knowledge and focus on all of my weak points. Medications I didn’t know appeared before me, with no hints as to what the med was for. I was asked several questions where I had to choose the patient I would assign highest priority to, when each answer seemed just as high a priority as the next.

And I had several of the “alternate style questions” – essentially questions that aren’t your typical multiple choice, choose one answer type – and several of those were the “choose all that apply” questions. I hate those questions. If you miss one of the correct answers, you miss the entire question.

Where are the medication math questions? I wondered. I’m really good at math! As the question numbers gradually creeped up, I started to panic, realizing I was answering without being sure on more questions than I felt comfortable with. I got closer to the magic #75, and I silently tried to will the computer to keep giving me more questions so I had a better chance to show my competency. I know I can prove I’m a good nurse, just let me keep answering questions and get to the ones I really know!

Then it happened. I answered question #75, and the screen blinked and turned blue. After a few seconds of wondering if I somehow summoned the Blue Screen of Death, the grey background appeared again, with the words, “Congratulations! You’ve finished the NCLEX!”

NOOOOOOOOOO!!!!

I sat there unsure of what to do next. There’s no way I did well enough to warrant the shut-off at 75 questions. But I also couldn’t face the possibility that I bombed the test so badly that it determined me a complete failure at only 75 questions. The trembling in my hands appeared again as I answered the demographic exit survey questions and meekly raised my hand to call the testing assistant into the room to let me leave. I felt sick as I gathered up my belonging and walked to my car.

Just to add to the suspense, I won’t know my results for a day or two. So instead I sit here and replay the test in my head, wondering if I will keep my job if I failed. If I do fail, I can retake the test in 45 days, but they might not want to wait that long for me.

I’m normally a fairly laid-back person. But I’m a nervous wreck right now. The Board of Nursing should run ads on their license check web page – they’d be making a fortune from my refresh rate right now.



I’m a Little Runaway

(Haiku Friday is once again hosted at Janny’s little slice of the internet this week!)

So, lately it’s pretty obvious that I’m overwhelmed. I’m still not used to working full-time away from home, I’ve had a big project with SavvySource that took more time than I expected, and Cordy and Mira are home for two weeks before school starts for the year.

Add in financial stress from discovering that Cordy’s summer camp, which I was led to believe would be mostly covered by respite funding, actually will result in a $1300 bill for us because respite will only cover about $120 of the cost. We don’t exactly have $1300 sitting around, and if we did, we’d be applying it to the social skills class Cordy’s psychologist is recommending.

Oh, and I’m taking my license exam to officially become a Registered Nurse on Monday. Oy. I’m quickly turning into a ball of stress with a short fuse, and that’s not good for me or my family.

It’s enough to makes me want to disappear and forget my stress for a little while.

And so we are running away. At least for a weekend. (Longer would be nice, but I’ll take what I can get.) We’re joining the legions of geeks descending on Indianapolis for Gen Con, a gaming geek convention. Aaron will be doing interviews with companies for his website, while I’ll be talking with the few game designers who are featuring games for preschool kids. And I’ll be doing lots of zoning out, too. And looking at people dressed in pretty costumes, as well as unfortunate costumes. Because it’s always a mixed bag – some people dress for their body type, and some people are 50-year-old men with stubble dressed in Sailor Moon costumes, complete with heels and lipstick. *shudder*

I’m hopeful this small escape will help me center myself and prepare me to take on the world again. If only Gen Con offered free massages by guys who looked like Johnny Depp.

How do YOU deal with overwhelming stress? I’m always looking for new ideas.



The Diagnosis: Letting It Sink In

You might remember back in May, when I took Cordy for a medical evaluation to determine if she really had an autism spectrum disorder, or if the educational evaluation she had at three years old was simply a bad, bad, bad day.

I was supposed to receive the results in a month. It took two and a half months, due to a slight processing error in payment from the Franklin Co. MRDD board. (Yes, they paid for it, and they recommended it. Thank you, citizens of Franklin County – it was a far better use of your tax dollars than some of the projects out there.)

Eventually I stopped wondering when the results would arrive. Maybe Cordy did such a good job at her evaluation that they saw no point in wasting a stamp? Maybe they laughed so hard at my worries that something wasn’t right with my child that they forgot to send the results?

Then, just a couple of days before I left for BlogHer, a thick envelope appeared in our mailbox. And while I read it that day, I’m mentally and emotionally still processing what that envelope contained, even now. It’s hard to see your child broken down into a series of behaviors and scores. It’s hard to read the words of how your child is different from others, not sure of what challenges will you both face in the future.

I’ll share one part of the summary for all of you. These are the words that occasionally float through my head, leaving me wondering what our next steps will be:

Cordelia is a nearly 5-year-old girl classified at school as having PDD-NOS. She has a history of social deficits, adaptive behavior delays, and sensory regulation difficulties. Her cognitive scores indicate average cognitive ability. Her autism screening scores indicate that Cordelia does display many characteristics consistent with an Autism Spectrum Disorder, such as PDD-NOS. Cordelia’s scores consistently show difficulties with sensory issues, social pragmatic difficulties, resistance to change, emotional and arousal regulation difficulties, and social approach difficulties.

She, however, also displays very strong cognitive skills and expressive language skills. Many of her scores on the ADOS and PDDBI (screening tests) indicate difficulties that are indicative of a pervasive developmental delay but not specifically indicative of (classic) autism. Thus, at this time, it seems a diagnosis of PDD-NOS is most appropriate.

They want to further evaluate Cordy when she’s a little older, thinking that she may eventually fit into the Aspergers label, and possibly ADD, too. Lots of new therapy ideas were thrown around, too. Expensive therapies. Therapies not at all covered by my new health insurance, who tells me that autism is an “incurable, non-treatable condition”. But that’s a rant for another day…

A few of the special needs bloggers got to hear more about this while at BlogHer. I needed to tell someone outside of family – someone who would understand that anything I said at that time wasn’t necessarily what I really meant, but was instead a reaction I was still working my way through – and they were the ones who were most likely to understand.

So at the point I can’t fully express what’s in my heart. I don’t even know what’s fully in my heart. But last week I attended the kick-off for the Columbus Walk Now for Autism event, listening to other families bravely speak to a room full of people about the challenges they’ve faced and also the joys they’ve experienced. I cried. A lot. And I’m already signed up to walk again this year. I want my team to raise $1000 this year, doubling what we raised last year.

This much I do know: Cordy is on the autism spectrum, and once I organize my thoughts, the mama bear in me will be fired up again to fight for anything my little girl needs.

(And thank you, thank you to all of you who have provided me with so much support as we’ve gone down this road with Cordy. Your comments, your e-mails, your words of love have carried me through to this point, and I don’t know what I would have done without this community. You’re all lovely.)



The End of the Week Comes So Quickly Now

(Looking for Haiku Friday? Go visit Janny – she’s hosting this week’s Haiku Friday for me. And I’ll have a long-term solution for my Haiku Friday hiatus set up by next week.)

Wanna know what it’s like to go two years working part-time from home, then suddenly go back to work full-time, pulling 12 hr shifts that are really 12.5 hrs, which is really 14.5 hrs when you add in the commute both ways?

It’s pretty friggin’ hard.

I’m exhausted. Completely exhausted. I come home each night, intending to warmly reunite with my laptop and type out a thought-provoking post. Or at least throw out a cute photo of one of my kids.

But instead I come home each night, walking gently on my sore feet, read through my e-mail, try to reply to a few of them, check Twitter to lurk on any conversations going on, and then go to bed. On my days off, I want to sleep in. I feel foggy headed all day. My daughters climb all over me, but I don’t have the energy to wrestle with them.

I know this is not permanent. Not only do I have a new job, but I’m also trying to learn an incredible amount of information in a short period of time. Unlike some jobs, the learning curve is high in nursing and mistakes can cost lives. (Or in the world of medical paperwork, mistakes can cost the hospital a payment, which is nearly as bad as costing lives sometimes.)

Or maybe I’m just reacting to a week where we’ve had patient after patient appearing at the doors. That whole full moon and laboring women superstition? It’s all true. And then they turn into werewolves.

Either way, I think I’ll be back to my normal routine in a few weeks. Which means that I picked a lousy time to start a new job, considering I’m one of several local mom bloggers featured in Columbus Monthly magazine for August. (On newsstands now, locals! Go buy your copy!)

If you’re new here, don’t judge me by August. I promise I’m more interesting than this.