I haven’t thought of myself as being a quitter till these last few days. For this 2nd week of September I’m writing on catastrophes. I’m thinking back over the years to my most troublesome times. Now I remember I am a bit of a quitter. I quit university after 2 years. I did not finish. I did not get a degree in fine arts or English, my two majors. I can’t remembered exactly how I felt. Knowing my nature I was probably despressed, feeling like a failure. I was not talented nor a bright prospect as my high school teachers lauded me.

After slinging coffee at a cafe for a few months, I took a 10-month secretarial course at the Saskatoon Business College. I completed that and had plans to move to Vancouver to find a job. Somehow, I never got there and ended up settling for that job at a broiler making company from which I got fired within a few months. I wasn’t a quitter there. I was fired.

After working 2 years at the Dept. of Indian and Northern Affairs, I got bored. I went back to school, taking a 2 year diploma nursing course. The first year was not a problem. Nor was the second until the final few months. I’ve never had any hospital experience, no candy striper experience or even hospital visiting experience. So I had problems clinically in my last two rotations. Besides that, I had both personal and financial problems. So one evening when my instructor muttered ‘You’re flunking’, I lost it. I yelled, I quit!

I didn’t. My instructor intervened. I got help and graduated. After working a few years at a hospital, I said the same thing. I quit! It wasn’t the hard work. It was the environment. I did not find hospitals a friendly supportive workplace. I wanted to leave nursing behind me but I lasted only a few weeks. One day, driving past the university hospital, I stopped in on a whim to fill an application form. When I came out, I had a job. Instead of being happy, I put my head on the steering wheel and cried.

Nursing must have been my calling. I stayed for over 30 years. They were memorable though I can’t say it was good or bad. Whatever they were, I can say I felt good about the work I did. But today I can still feel the stress and trauma in my body as I am tapping out the words. My body shivers with the memory. But I have survived. I would not do it again if I could relive my life. Or I wouldn’t have stayed so long.

I should have quit sooner. That’s what I know now. It’s okay to quit if something is too hard or not working out. You can always pick it up again later. Or something else better might come along. Hind sight is better than no sight.