'C' is for Courage, not Average (Final Reflection)

It's hard to write a reflection on something that doesn't yet feel like it's coming to an end, and yet, here I am. So let me not waste time: this has been the hardest academic endeavor I have ever started and carried to the finish line of my decades-long school career. And that includes the near-year I spent as a female plebe at the U.S. Naval Academy before most of my CVT classmates were even born. I'm not compelled to go into all the reasons why, so you'll just have to trust me. My butt has been kicked more days than not, since January of 2020. It's a bit sore even now, as I'm fumbling all over the right words to convey the profundity of this experience. 

I'm so tired, y'all. If I could figure out a better way to get all these thoughts out of my head, I totally would. Maybe I'll come back in a week and write this over. Who knows, maybe I'll come back next year and write even another, final-final reflection. I imagine I'll be reflecting on this experience for many years to come. So check back, if you feel like it. 

OK, screw the fluff; here's what's been eating at me: I got a "C." Back in the first semester of my first year in the CVT program, in aseptic technique lab. I have to talk about it because all my other grades so far are "A"s. Let me rephrase that: if not for that one honking "C," I would have flipping straight "A"s! I might even get an "A" in my Capstone class, as long as I finish this essay and don't croak during my oral case study presentation on Friday, in front of an auditorium full of people! 

And I know no one's probably looking at my unofficial transcript that I linked to this blog on the Competencies page, and that no one might have even seen the "C," but it's bothering me and I need to unload the negativity. The truth is none of my grades reflect the blood (paper cuts, mostly), sweat (it's hot under 25-lb lead, inside full sterile PPE, standing up through 3-hr procedures in the lab), and tears (gallons, even one time in class because I had PTSD that I might fail another CPE, but I didn't fail it, and it was OK) I have put into graduating from this program than that "C." Aseptic technique IS NO JOKE. There is no faking one's way through it, there is nothing one can cram for, nor does it matter how many science or math classes, or previous degrees or non-sterile jobs one has had, you either know your technique or you don't. And then when you do, you have to shove down every single nerve that wants to derail your confidence in front of your ninja-level-experienced instructor to prove it. 

My nerves got the best of me on my first try. I touched my gloved finger to my shoulder (thus, contaminating myself), I think*, while I was twirling with my circulator so I could tie my surgical gown shut. I failed the test. It was the most horrible of horrible days. And I'd have to come back on another day and do it all over again, except this time, not just with my lab professors Davis and Miller, but with our department head, Dr. Hunsinger, too. 

* I don't remember doing it, because I was too nervous. This, technically, is why I failed. If I had acknowledged I'd contaminated myself, and corrected it, I would have been permitted to continue. 

That was a year and a half ago. Clearly, or I wouldn't be writing this today, I must've passed on my second attempt, and with all three of those ninjas in the room! But moreover, it was on that day-one of the toughest I've faced in my entire life-after I passed, that I knew I was in really good hands at Sentara College of Health Sciences. My instructors helped me see that I was worth a career in EP. 

And then it was winter break and I had a whole month off of school to volunteer at Sentara COVID-19 vaccine clinics! (I was being slightly sarcastic there. I mean, I did work a bunch of hours in vaccine clinics, but those were some crazy times. I can’t even believe how crazy this world was in that first year of EP school!)

But back to that “C.” It’s the letter-grade average of my failing score and my passing score, which was 100%. But truly, there is nothing remotely average about it. That “C” totally stands for courage! I fought bloody hard for that grade!

Well, now that I’ve cleared my transcript outlier-grade up…

Oh my gosh, y’all, in two days I will be DONE with EP school! Then two weeks after that, I’ll get my diploma! Then two more weeks later, I’m gonna pass my registry exam and get my RCES! And then, finally, two weeks after that, what all my classmates and I came into this program ultimately hoping for…I start a full-time job at VCU Medical Center in Richmond as an EP tech! 

Thank you to all my professors, the recruiters, office staff, and even the school psychologist (yeah, I totally recommend using that tuition perk!) at Sentara! I could not have done this without you! Professor Olah, you especially! What a gift you have been to the EP program since your arrival!

And to all my CVT classmates--we did it!! I’m so proud of us for completing the task! Let’s go out into the world and help fix people’s cardiovascular issues!

Finally, Tara, Sarah and Ana, my EP girls…WE GOT THIS! I LOVE YOU, LADIES! So thankful to have you in my life and I can’t wait to see how far you'll go and all the things that you'll do!

Brides of Frankenstein, EP Class of 2022, forever!

Bonus video content. Cookie Monster is my spirit muppet. "C" can be for whatever the flip we want it to be, right?