Do you wake up most mornings energized, just fired up and ready to work? If you answered yes to any of these questions, you’re among the coveted 13% of people worldwide who are enthusiastic and emotionally invested in their work.
As reported in the Washington Post, a Gallup Poll conducted in 2011 and 2012 from 140 different countries found that “63% of people are not “engaged” and 24% are actively “disengaged,” truly unhappy and unproductive.” In a similar Washington Post article, the author referenced a survey conducted by Harris Interactive for the University of Phoenix which found that “55% of Americans would like to change careers and that nearly 80% of working adults in their 20’s and nearly two-thirds of those in their 30’s would like to change jobs also.” As always, one must look at all such findings critically, especially when one is not truly privy to the real reasons behind these findings. Would a change in career mitigate this problem, or is the grass not always greener on the other side?
I fall somewhere in-between; while I’m not disengaged, I’m also not part of the coveted 13%. I emigrated to the US 20+ years ago as a young adult – naïve and very ignorant about American culture. I had just left the University of Sierra Leone where I was pursuing a Liberal Arts Degree. I was, and still am in love with acting and theater; however, it became very clear, very quickly that this was not a practical path to pursue. In spite of my passion for theater, I erred on the side of practicality and settled – yes settled for nursing school.
To prepare my mental framework for nursing school, I was advised to work as a Certified Nursing Assistant (CNA). This job not only prepared me for nursing school, it also provided the opportunity to interact and understand the larger American society (will elaborate in another publication). The nursing home was indeed a microcosm of American life. I worked as a CNA and attended nursing school full time. For a path that I wouldn’t have chosen had it not been for the gentle and loving nudge of my dear aunt, it was ironic that I received an award for the nursing student who demonstrated the most compassion in the clinical setting. I connected very quickly with my patients and their loved ones and enjoyed every bit of it. After graduation, I worked in various clinical settings (medical surgical, operating room, geriatrics, psychiatric, and home care) and I thrived as a newbie, learning the rules as I went along. I had many mentors along the way and I am grateful to each and every one of them. Every single interaction in these settings presented an opportunity to impact someone in a very real and tangible way. I loved the connections I had with my patients and their families.
However, after 5 years of being in clinical nursing full time, I made a move to administrative roles because I started having a family and time flexibility became the primary driver for almost all decisions. I still long for the feelings of instant gratification after helping a patient feel better, reassuring friends and families or just holding someone’s hand as they journey into their next life. The difference was enormous; I became a thousand feet removed from direct patient care. I began to question myself on whether I had made the right move. The episodes of instant feelings of gratification became a rarity. I was now plagued with feelings of fear and self- doubt. I had entered a territory about which I knew very little. What if I did the wrong thing? What if I deny a medical good or service to someone who truly needs it? These thoughts loomed large in my head even though there were guidelines and criteria to assist with decision making. I knew I was a fantastic bedside nurse but where was my prescription to alleviate my anxieties? My worst fear came true when I denied a medical product which was appealed and I had to face my “victim.”
On meeting my “victim,” I recognized immediately that I had made an erroneous decision; the original letter of medical necessity did not do justice in describing the medical needs of this young person. Nonetheless, I asked for new documentation and authorized the medical product – what relief!. This incident was the turning point; I quickly realized I had to make this job work for me. I had the requisite clinical training and experience; I delved into learning all the applicable rules, regulations and guidelines. While there is no substitute for clinical training, the aforementioned appeals case impressed upon me that policies and invisible appeals processes impact the lives of individuals. As a result, I’m constantly reminded to speak for the individual or group that’s not represented; whether it’s simply a round table discussion or around the development and implementation of new policies and guidelines. Even though beneficiaries will never know that I contributed to a medical policy that was implemented to improve their health outcomes; I’m humbled and grateful that I’m one of many voices behind the scenes who advocates for the most vulnerable.
While I cannot say that I made it into the coveted 13% group, I can say for sure that my energy to continue this work comes from the people for whom I advocate daily. While I miss the pleasure of immediate gratification that direct care provides, I appreciate the value of impacting large groups of people -positively at any given point in time. This is the thought that fuels my day – everyday.
Let me know what you think.