My father left this world on 5 October 2001. It’s hard to believe it has already been 22 years. As I reflect on my journey as a nurse, I think about my father. When I was a little girl, I wanted to be a doctor. I remember pretending to be a doctor and taking care of my teddy bear and dolls. It was a good feeling caring for them and helping them get better.
As I got older, my father became a Licensed Vocational Nurse in the Army. He worked in hospitals, long-term care, and the county prison. After many different jobs, he found his passion working as a mental health nurse. After graduating from high school, I found myself going to school to become a certified nursing assistant (CNA). My first job was in a long-term care facility. I enjoyed caring for the residents and listening to their life stories. It was a hard but rewarding job.
Looking into medical school, I was disappointed at how long it would take. Instead, I started working towards a nursing degree. I was fortunate that my first job as a graduate nurse was in the ICU. A few years after starting my nursing career, while working in a psychiatric ward for adolescents, my father attempted to prevent a patient from hurting herself. During that incident, he twisted his back and was no longer able to work.
When I would visit my parents, my father and I would share work stories, of course, leaving patient information out. He would know exactly what I was talking about, and I understood what he was talking about.
But my father did not take care of himself. He gained weight and couldn’t walk long distances. I knew my father was depressed because he missed being able to go to work. He had recurrent falls and showed me his bruised and swollen leg after one of those falls. I begged him to show his doctor his leg, but he “forgot.” After his appointment, he got weaker and weaker. We took him to the emergency room, but he wanted to return home to see his favorite grandsons who were coming in from out of town. He was able to spend some time with them, but shortly after, we had to take him back. We were in the waiting room when a nurse came out and said he was asking for me. Apparently, no one was able to hear his blood pressure, so he told them to call me because I was a nurse, and I knew what I was doing.
I can still remember the fear in his eyes when I told him I wasn’t able to hear either. He was later transferred to the ICU and told us all to go home and get some rest. We left only to return a few hours later after receiving a phone call from a nurse saying we needed to get there because he wasn’t doing well. He died before we could get there.
I always tried my best to make him proud. It wasn’t until he asked me to check his blood pressure that I felt I was doing something right after all. I later became a Family Nurse Practitioner and continued my education and earned my DNP. Now, I teach future FNP students.
I feel fortunate to have had a father-daughter dance at my wedding. I remember how happy he looked. In the words of my favorite country singer, Garth Brooks, “Our lives are better left to chance, I could have missed the pain, but I’d have had to miss the dance.” I truly feel that nursing is my calling, and I am so happy I followed in his footsteps.
Monica S. Vasquez, DNP, APRN, FNP-C, WCC, ACHPN, is a full-time clinical assistant professor at the University of Texas at El Paso in El Paso, Texas, USA. She is a member of Sigma’s Delta Kappa Chapter.