A Feather in My Cap

A Feather in My Cap
Early in my training at Penn State for my nursing degree I was assigned some “practical, hands-on learning” classes in a nearby nursing home. The training was to correctly change bed linens, give patient care, pass medications, and how to chart.
My question is why does the practical part of nursing education start out with the elderly? Do they think that if a student nurse makes a mistake… well they were old, right?
We were there for several weeks and as the routine became more comfortable for us, one of the nurses had allowed her mind to wander and asked me, “Where is your nursing cap?’
This was a time when the female nurses were required to wear caps. You could tell from which institution a nurse graduated by the cap she wore. Men weren’t required to wear the cumbersome caps. Not fair? I didn’t make the rules.
I replied, “I don’t know. You’ll have to ask the dean of nursing.”
She didn’t say a word, but disappeared only to return a few minutes later. She went into the kitchen and returned with an institutional sized Melita coffee filter in her hands. She walked over to me and using white bobby pins, she attached it to my hair and yes… I had hair then.
It was near the end of the shift and the other students and nursing home’s residents thought it was funny, so I kept the “cap” in place until the end of the day. It was a “no big deal.” If it brightened the residents’ day and kept the female students from fussing, it was well worth it.
I knew that if I made a big deal about the “nursing cap,” I would have been the target of harassment from female students from then on. From my several years in the Navy, I learned it was always easier to laugh and go along with the joke, than to make a big deal out of it and complain. Fussing puts a person in the crosshairs making you a target for more harassment.
At our next session at the nursing home, I was bare headed and immediately I was confronted by the female students, “Where is your nursing cap?”
Thinking quickly, I replied, “You know, it was dirty. I washed it last night and it fell apart.”
They laughed and shook their heads at my wise crack, then walked away.
I had managed to dodge the bullet. By using a bit of humor, I’d escaped being harangued about wearing a coffee filter for the second time.