Why I went back to school in my 40s to work in reproductive health care
Check out the rest of our Campus Dispatch stories here. Click here to read the rest of Campus Dispatch’s stories. The fall of Roe V. Wade in the year 2022 was crushing for an abortion-supporting resident of a rural community with a lot of MAGA flags. Yet, I did not act. I fretted. I gave to abortion funds. I doom-scrolled. I protested by gluing construction paper onto poster boards. I fretted some more. I bought all of the Plan B at local drugstores, but did nothing. Like many others, I was unsure of what to do. All I knew was that I wanted to help people who needed abortion care.
Then came the near continuous avalanche of events–some big, some seemingly inconsequential–after the Supreme Court’s decision in Dobbs v. Jackson Women’s Health Organization. Each day seemed to bring a new horror. It has become a war against reproductive health. It’s a war on reproductive health. It’s infuriating. It’s disgusting. I was moved, but then the question “what can I do?” would always come up and my momentum would wane. I would be moved, but then I would always come face to face with the question, “what can I do?” and my momentum withered.
Somewhere among the dismay, that question shifted to “how can I help?” and then “how can I be most effective?” Suddenly, the answer couldn’t be more apparent. I would go back to school and obtain my FNP in order to work as a reproductive health nurse. Here’s how I will wage war in the fight for bodily autonomy. My sole focus is on this. Here’s how I can be of assistance. I will advocate for and provide services to people who want and need them.
It was that simple all along.
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I remember the first abortion I saw as a health care. I’ve been a registered nursing for 18 years. The majority of that time was spent in the PACU, or recovery room where patients awaken after surgery. As a PACU Nurse, I recall taking care of a critically ill patient before her surgery. Her heart rate was too high, her blood pressure was too low, she breathed too quickly, and she had a fever. She was in borderline septic-shock. She was sick, and she needed a procedureal abortion. She said, “I’m glad it’s over.” She knew that she would only be able to heal once the source of her conflict was removed. She began to feel better as soon as I brought her to the recovery room. Her vital signs stabilized and her vitals started to improve. She had needed health care in the form of an abortion.
This example is sure to goad ridiculous “but her life was threatened, there are exceptions for that” comments, and I am here to say: Don’t go there. I am adamant that I do not want legislators to decide what is “medically necessary” or “life-threatening”. I have heard Supreme Court arguments on whether losing reproductive organs (fallopian tube, ovaries etc.) was life-threatening. is life-threatening. Was the woman that I cared for in a situation where her life was at risk? The woman I took care of was in a life-threatening situation. She was not actively dying but her condition decompensated. What is the definition of “medically essential”? What is a heart rate of less than 30 beats a minute? Respiratory rate below six breaths a minute? Who decides?
Here’s the thing: Medicine is a gray area. What works for a patient might not work for someone else. It is also nuanced. There are more factors to consider besides a patient’s outward vital signs and what (non-life-threatening) organ they may lose. Blanket statements about health care are dangerous–particularly when the statement has legislation attached.
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I retell the story only because I believe it shows what abortion access should look like: a mutual decision between patient and health care provider with no restrictions. Nationally. Health care coverage in Missouri and Vermont should be identical. I want to be sure that I can access universal health care if I travel to another state. Why should my healthcare options change when I cross state lines? Even a healthy woman’s body can be affected by pregnancy. How can anyone else tell me what is best for my body and future? They are so daring!
Most important, in an urgent situation, I expect health-care professionals to act in my interest, not wait until I am near death out of fear that they will lose their license. No one should have to wait until they reach some imaginary “life-threatening threshold” (if such a thing is even available) before receiving medical treatment. No one should be forced to reveal their trauma, or the reason they are seeking an abortion (or contraceptives – shout out to future SCOTUS decisions). My patients often hear me say: “Your health is your own business.” This is especially true when it comes to reproductive health. These are lofty but right goals. Here I am at 43, almost a year into my first year of FNP courses. I have learned how to create a Google Doc, and attended Zoom sessions. I’ve brushed-up on my APA knowledge and have been introduced to Grammarly. There were hoops to clear–applying for programs, figuring finances, re-acquainting myself to discussion boards, and the expectations of a graduate level program. But it didn’t matter. I am getting through it. I have changed my schedule to accommodate my schooling, so I work 12-hour shifts every Friday, Saturday and Sunday at a local hospital. Is. Important. This is what I am motivated by. In the end, none of these hoops will be important. What I will eventually be doing is important. In my ideal world, I would like to someday open a clinic. TBD. First, school then grand plans.
