College life was a real juggling act. Classes were necessary to avoid student loan payback, and only a couple of prerequisites remained. Medical terminology was available at a time that was convenient for me and sounded useful so I signed up. Wow, why wasn’t that class a prerequisite to Anatomy and Physiology? It turns out the instructor actually taught those classes too, and his descriptions made it so much easier to learn. The rest of the year was filled with computer programming classes. You just never know when you might need to write a computer program in basic, fortran, or cobalt, skills I have never used since, although the logic involved has served me well in many situations.

IThe application for the nursing program was completed. My GPA was 2.89, so I had little faith that I would be selected. A meeting with the academic counselor helped me to understand that the classes I had taken for nursing would offer little in the way of I hired an old friend as our childgiver, and she was a godsend! She came to my house in the morning, sent the twins off to headstart for the day, cleaned my house, washed and folded laundry, prepared dinner, and was a mother to my children when I couldn’t be. She deserved twice the money she requested, but my bidget was limited so I have her what she asked. My children loved her. I loved her.

The first class in the nursing program was Nursing Skills. This class taught the basics of nursing; handwashing, sterile technique, checking blood pressures, injections, IV starts, catheters, etc. After completion of this class, a notice was posted on the board that a local hospital was looking to hire nursing students as nursing assistants. My greenhouse job was over for season, and this job announcement spoke to me. I applied right away and began my nursing assistant career. I worked mostly weekend nights. The money helped, but the time spent away from my family and studies took a toll on both. As the final grades were being tallied for MedSurg 1, I knew that I was teetering on a passing grade. Our froup went for tacos and margaritas to celebreate the end of the 1st semester of nursing school. Several of us were anxious; when would the grades be posted? Did I make the grade? As we loked at the grades on the board, my mind was again spinning. Seventy two point five. Seventy three is passing. How is this happening? Several others started complaining. How can they fail 5 of us? Off to the instructor’s office we stormed. “Did you curve the grades?” “Did you review the questions most missed?” All to no avail. Five of us had just failed MedSurg 1. I cried all the way home. Heck, I cried the entire Christmas break. My husband walked on pins and needles and went as fara as telling the family not to mention school when we visited for Christmas. I was a mess.

Accompanying the crying was the feeling of failure. I had failed. What a mess. I couldn’t quit because of loans. I had already drug this out an extra year by having another baby. What could I do? My logic-driven, problem-solving brain kicked into hight gear and a plan was devised. I could commute to Bloomington next semester, a 70-mile drive, retake MedSurg 1, the take MedSurg 2 in the summer in Indy, a 100-mile drive. I could make this work! I registered for classes both at IUS and IU Bloomington for the Spring. I recorded the class in Bloomington on my tape recorder and listened to it on the drive to IUS for my didactic classes there. It was another grueling semester, finishing that class with an A. Registration for summer classes opened, and to my dismay, they had decided not to offer the MedSurg 2 class that summer, offering instead another nursing class. My heart was broken. All that work, commuting, and still, I’d be another year behind.

The fall semester started, and I began my Psych clinicals, along with nursing theory. My husband and I decided to plan a little vacation, just a long weekend, alone. My mother had agreed to keep my children while we were gone. Mom always made me nervous. She was not a loving grandmother, and her attentiveness to them always made me leery. Years of drinking was taking a toll on her, and my grandmother’s death just exacerbated her problem. She was an only child, and she had inherited what little my grandmother had, but for he it was a fortune. She had a good job, and had purchased a house, using the inheritance as a down-payment. I dropped the girls off to her on Friday afternoon. She seemed normal enough, her normal anyway. As we packed the car at home, a friend called. “How is your mom doing since she got fired from her job?” “What! She got fired? Why? When?” I exclaimed. “For drinking on the job. I would have thought she would have told you, it was last week,” she explained. “No, she did not, and she has my kids for the weeend,” I responded. There was no answer on the phone when I called her. We immediately drove to her house, where I found my 3 older children outside, my baby crying inside, and her passed out drunk. I loaded my kids in the car and went back inside. The argument was pointless. I left her with a card for LifePoint treatment hospital, and the promise to never see me or my children again until she had gotten treatment. I was done.

The call came about a week later. “Can you take me to LifePoint?” “I’ll be right there.” I’d like to say she lived happily ever after, but most alcoholics do not make it on their first attempt at recovery. I went to her employer and arranged for her to return on the condition that they could test her anytime. She was furious. “Fine, don’t sign it then,” I calmly said. I was already reading Adult Children of Alcoholics, and I knew that to argue was futile. “You either sign it, or you look for another job,” I told her. She signed the agreement. She returned to her job and her home for another month, tested positive, lost her job, her home, and her are, went back to LifeSprings, and then to a women’s half-way house to live. I think she finally figured out that everyone was done with her alcoholism.

My husband took a 2nd full time job. Cathy continued to care for my children like they were her own, and I supplemented her hours with them by asking my sister to take some hours as well. I continued my nursing assistant job, working more hours than I should have, but feeling the financial pressure that my family was having. During the last semester of the program, job recruiters started setting u booths in the hallways of the Life Science building and talking with us between classes. The Army Nurse recruiter struck up a conversation with me, and it turned out that he was married to a distant cousing of mine. He would tell me of the benefits of the Army, and I would chuckle about me and my 4 kids joining the Army. His salesmanship started to get the best of me, and I started actually thinkg about the student loan benefit he had describedfor joining the Army Reserves. A commitment of 2 weeks a year, plus one weekend a month, and you could get those loans repaid. This might not be a bad deal.

Graduation was planned for May 1997. A committee was formed to plan the pinning ceremony. Anyone interestedwas asked to put their ame on the board, and a vote would be held to decide the committee members. I had always felt like the outsider in this class, due to the fact that most of them had been together for 4 years in this program, and I was placed here out of necessity after failing a class. I put my name down. Each of us were asked to write our votes on a piece of paper, and the top 5 would form the committee. After the votes were tallied, my name came up with the most votes, which made me the head of the committee. My organization skills immediately kicked in as I organized the others into specific jobs; decorations, food, invitations, and program. The pinning ceremony was wonerful. Graduation was held in the school auditoruim the next day, and I proudly walked to receive my Bachelor of Science in Nursing from Indiana University. My 4-year degree took 6 years, had many setbacks, but I persevered!