Once upon a time there were seven dwarfs cycling through a lush landscape on an August day. They'd set off from Groningen, a university town famous for its poisonous egg balls and the Old Grey One, a gothic church that was once struck by lightning.
Seated on their little bikes their feet firmly pedalled in a western direction. They passed fields with blooming rapeseeds, grain and sunflowers, but the dwarfs did not seem to notice. They kept their eyes tightly on the slippery clay soil to stay on the right path and didn't say a word.
The destination was an uninhabited, forested area near Appelscha, a town in the northern part of the Netherlands.
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| My Birthday card made by K. Biesheuvel (inspired by a Aivax tutorial). |
The destination was an uninhabited, forested area near Appelscha, a town in the northern part of the Netherlands.
*
Although they'd briefly met before, the dwarfs didn't know each other. They'd noticed they spoke different dialects and had heard one among them even speak Frisian, a gibberish language.
Some of the dwarfs had reluctantly agreed to be part of the programme and would rather have turned back to their magical mushroom rooms in the city. But they'd all signed a blood oath for a four-year nursing program at the University of Applied Sciences. There was no way back.
However, not all of them wanted to become nurses. Dwarf Karin, never without her camera obscura, fancied a career as a magical photographer. Also, Frederiek in her red overall dreamt of watering cabbage patches and then seeing babies emerge from each cabbage head.
However, not all of them wanted to become nurses. Dwarf Karin, never without her camera obscura, fancied a career as a magical photographer. Also, Frederiek in her red overall dreamt of watering cabbage patches and then seeing babies emerge from each cabbage head.
*
Sweat was dripping down from dwarf Petra's face. Dressed in the woolly magical hooded sorcerer's coat, the one that came into her possession after an exchange with Finnish trolls in an old trading post in Taivalkoski, she would rather lie down on a bed of moss. But she clenched her teeth tightly together and cycled on.
Finally, after seven hours and seven minutes the dwarfs arrived in a nearly impenetrable yard. They stepped off their bikes, looked around and noticed a red roofed bread house behind some spruce trees. Despite the darkness, the house looked inviting and neat.
Dwarf Annet, happy to give her sore butt a pause, rushed to the flagpole and climbed up to check the area and find out if she could spot any potential dangers. “There's a ladder,” she shouted. The others heard her melodic voice for the first time.
The grass had not been mowed but the balcony, decorated with ornaments made of ice-cream and sprinkled nuts, made the dwarfs’ mouths water and the green shutters made them long for their beds. They didn't know they would sleep in dirty bunk beds in a nearby storage room. Also, the menu would be beans with whatever the forest would offer for the whole week.
A leprechaun with a pointed hat came out of a nearby shed to welcome the group in a bass voice. “We'll make a campfire and tell you the rules so that you won't lose touch with your hygienic rules or fall prey to dubious medical quacks,” he said.
Despite his dark voice, the leprechaun didn’t seem unfriendly. The dwarfs heaved a deep sigh of relief and unpacked their bike panniers. Sleeping bags, shorts, raincoats and toothbrushes were all they needed for the week.
The Introduction Week had started.
*
Forty years ago, Joyce, Annet, Petra, Frederiek, Karin, Gea and I met during the Introduction Week in a forest near Appelscha. Together with 60 other students we tried to get a grasp of what the educational program for the next four years would contain. In our case there was no forming, storming, norming and performing or any other stage of development needed. We sang some songs and that was basically the start of us as a homogeneous and stable group of seven girls.
In the next four years, we studied nursing theory. We practised administering injections and inserting catheters. We matured in health care law and organisational hospital changes. Without exception we disliked InterVision, group sessions in which we had to endlessly talk about ourselves, and we all nodded off during the “transcendent” philosophy lessons.
Still, we enjoyed medicine and vividly remember the bearded teacher who turned our classroom into a uterus while explaining the growth of an embryo during pregnancy.
We did not only meet in college. We made several trips to the Wadden Islands, an archipelago off the coast of the Netherlands. We canoed, cooked, dined together, and we danced.
We also got acquainted with each other’s families. I recall camping in the garden of Karin’s family. In 1985 we sat together on the king size bed of Frederiek’s parents, watching the Eleven Cities Tour, a skating event on TV. We had tea with Petra’s mum and sailed on the Frisian lakes with her brother as captain on the ship.
Some of us stayed in touch after graduation. Annet and Frederiek supported each other after their breakups with former partners in Switzerland and the Netherlands. Gea came to help during the birth of my children in the Netherlands and Germany. We were present at wedding parties and wrote each other cards and letters.
Careers
Gea moved to The Hague and became a district nurse. Some years later she specialised in dialysis nursing. She is now a district nurse in a village in the province of Drenthe.
Also Petra moved first to The Hague where she worked for one year on neurology. She then specialised in paediatric nursing and worked for some years as head nurse. Feeling burdened in an overmedicalized ward, Petra decided to take a break from nursing. She now works with youngsters on a nature based care farm.
Joyce is employed by the University Hospital in Groningen and has worked on nephrology for 34 years. Annet initially became her colleague in the same hospital. She started at the ear, nose and throat ward, switched later to gynaecology and then moved to Switzerland where she worked on rheumatology. At present Annet works in a town near Groningen.
Frederiek also started her first job in Groningen and became a nurse on the neurology ward. She later moved back to Friesland and became a maternity care nurse. After some years of employment, she decided to dedicate her life to voluntary work.
Karin started as a district nurse but evolved to a youth nurse. Currently she advises parents with children up to four years in Middenmeer, her hometown.
Last, I started my career in different psychiatric hospitals but later changed to internal wards, first in the university hospital in Groningen, and later in a deaconess’s hospital in Heidelberg, Germany. Not being able to get a work permit, my career as a nurse ended in Canada. In Finland I became a bureaucrat, again involved with helping others.
Commonalities
I asked the group what we have in common. According to Petra we all have good social skills. “We accept each other despite our differences,” Gea claims. Joyce and Annet, Karin and Frederiek agree. “We’re not like-minded, the base for our friendship was laid during our forming years in Groningen” Annet writes. Karin thinks that our northerner adagio “just act normal, then that you are crazy enough” says it all. “We accept each other’s lifestyles and we’re always interested in each other” Frederiek concludes.
I agree with my friends, however, having lived abroad for over thirty years, I don't think we are that different. Bottom line, we all want to make a difference in the lives of others either professionally or privately.
Almost every time I travel to the Netherlands, we reunite. We arrange a hike, a city tour or we meet in restaurants, and it always feels as if we are foolish dwarfs again.
Nevertheless, we are old hands too. During dinner we criticise modern nurses for their poor writing skills, we find the privacy laws these days incomprehensible and complain about too much bureaucracy in healthcare.
We don't take our friendship for granted. Last November, two months before I was diagnosed with cancer, we discussed how special it is that our group is still complete.
For my sixtieth birthday, I received a supersized postcard with us pictured like dwarfs in a fairy-tale landscape. The image brought me back to where our friendship started and made my imagination flow.
In the next four years, we studied nursing theory. We practised administering injections and inserting catheters. We matured in health care law and organisational hospital changes. Without exception we disliked InterVision, group sessions in which we had to endlessly talk about ourselves, and we all nodded off during the “transcendent” philosophy lessons.
Still, we enjoyed medicine and vividly remember the bearded teacher who turned our classroom into a uterus while explaining the growth of an embryo during pregnancy.
We did not only meet in college. We made several trips to the Wadden Islands, an archipelago off the coast of the Netherlands. We canoed, cooked, dined together, and we danced.
We also got acquainted with each other’s families. I recall camping in the garden of Karin’s family. In 1985 we sat together on the king size bed of Frederiek’s parents, watching the Eleven Cities Tour, a skating event on TV. We had tea with Petra’s mum and sailed on the Frisian lakes with her brother as captain on the ship.
Some of us stayed in touch after graduation. Annet and Frederiek supported each other after their breakups with former partners in Switzerland and the Netherlands. Gea came to help during the birth of my children in the Netherlands and Germany. We were present at wedding parties and wrote each other cards and letters.
Careers
Gea moved to The Hague and became a district nurse. Some years later she specialised in dialysis nursing. She is now a district nurse in a village in the province of Drenthe.
Also Petra moved first to The Hague where she worked for one year on neurology. She then specialised in paediatric nursing and worked for some years as head nurse. Feeling burdened in an overmedicalized ward, Petra decided to take a break from nursing. She now works with youngsters on a nature based care farm.
Joyce is employed by the University Hospital in Groningen and has worked on nephrology for 34 years. Annet initially became her colleague in the same hospital. She started at the ear, nose and throat ward, switched later to gynaecology and then moved to Switzerland where she worked on rheumatology. At present Annet works in a town near Groningen.
Frederiek also started her first job in Groningen and became a nurse on the neurology ward. She later moved back to Friesland and became a maternity care nurse. After some years of employment, she decided to dedicate her life to voluntary work.
Karin started as a district nurse but evolved to a youth nurse. Currently she advises parents with children up to four years in Middenmeer, her hometown.
Last, I started my career in different psychiatric hospitals but later changed to internal wards, first in the university hospital in Groningen, and later in a deaconess’s hospital in Heidelberg, Germany. Not being able to get a work permit, my career as a nurse ended in Canada. In Finland I became a bureaucrat, again involved with helping others.
Commonalities
I asked the group what we have in common. According to Petra we all have good social skills. “We accept each other despite our differences,” Gea claims. Joyce and Annet, Karin and Frederiek agree. “We’re not like-minded, the base for our friendship was laid during our forming years in Groningen” Annet writes. Karin thinks that our northerner adagio “just act normal, then that you are crazy enough” says it all. “We accept each other’s lifestyles and we’re always interested in each other” Frederiek concludes.
I agree with my friends, however, having lived abroad for over thirty years, I don't think we are that different. Bottom line, we all want to make a difference in the lives of others either professionally or privately.
 |
| May 2019, Rolde |
Almost every time I travel to the Netherlands, we reunite. We arrange a hike, a city tour or we meet in restaurants, and it always feels as if we are foolish dwarfs again.
Nevertheless, we are old hands too. During dinner we criticise modern nurses for their poor writing skills, we find the privacy laws these days incomprehensible and complain about too much bureaucracy in healthcare.
We don't take our friendship for granted. Last November, two months before I was diagnosed with cancer, we discussed how special it is that our group is still complete.
For my sixtieth birthday, I received a supersized postcard with us pictured like dwarfs in a fairy-tale landscape. The image brought me back to where our friendship started and made my imagination flow.
We stand around you, they had scribbled on the inside of the card. My nursing friends, they’re generous with their support and good at comforting me during hard times.
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