For years, I’ve struggled with leaving the nursing profession. I think most RN’s do, when they finally end their career. My struggle comes from a place that has nothing to do with medicine. I loved working in the ER, but it’s over with now, which is a bitter-sweet thing. Don’t misunderstand, I don’t want to keep working as an RN, not at all!

Been there . . . done that!

It’s just the shift to “what next” that has been troubling. Almost without exception, I’ve heard nurses say (when asked, who are you?), “I am a nurse.”

Well, I never said that. I worked as a nurse, but that career choice never defined who I am.

Over the years, I’ve thought about how I would answer that . . . and never really came up with a satisfying answer. There are a lot of labels that I could assign myself: mom, teacher, grandma (that’s one of the best!), writer, singer, dancer, skiier, and most recently – jewelry-maker (big smile).

But I think a whiff of who I am came yesterday when I was walking the beach.

An ambulance had pulled up to the pier there and paramedics jumped out. I remembered too well my years working in the ER with the medics (whom I have tremendous respect and appreciation for). I also remember my years working in an ambulance as a critical care transport RN. It was supposed to be an amazing job, and I enjoyed the job, but it wasn’t for me.

Because . . . that’s not who I am.

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