It Chose Me

The white coat ceremonies happened a year apart. Different classes across several sessions. Different faces, different years, but the same unspoken truth lingered in the room: many of them hadn’t planned to be there. Among the students stood those whose eyes shone with fulfilled dreams, who had always known they wanted to be nurses. But beside them stood everyone else, students who had written Medicine and Surgery or Physiotherapy on their JAMB forms, students whose parents said, “at least it’s still healthcare,” when what everyone heard was “at least it’s something.”

In those early days, a quiet divide existed, though no one spoke of it openly. Some felt like they belonged, while others felt like impostors in their own corporate wear. “I felt bad, and different,” one student confesses, different from classmates who had dreamed of nursing since childhood, different from friends who got exactly what they wanted, different from their own expectations of who they were supposed to become. That difference sat heavily, unspoken but persistent.

The Resistance

The first months were brutal, not because of the workload, but because of the quiet war happening inside. Students showed up to lectures, took notes, wore the right clothes, and said the right things, but internally, they were grieving. They mourned the ID card that said “Nursing Student” instead of “Medical Student,” and the future they had envisioned that would never come to pass. “I think I struggled with adapting,” one student admits, “with changing my mindset and my view of nursing.” Another describes the struggle differently: “The department felt quiet. I wasn’t feeling any energy, and I was concerned about how the image of the course was projected.”

The resistance wasn’t just about accepting nursing; it was about accepting that their original plans had died and something else was being asked of them, something they never asked for. Some students coped by being perfect, as if excellent grades could prove they deserved better. Others kept nursing at arm’s length, already planning exit strategies, anything that allowed them to say, “I’m not really a bedside nurse.” Meanwhile, those who had chosen nursing from the beginning moved differently. They leaned into the difficulty with curiosity, practiced skills to achieve mastery, and spoke with certainty about their future as nurses, while others spoke about their future after nursing. It wasn’t hostility, but a gap  those who had chosen nursing belonged to it in a way others didn’t.

When Nursing Started Choosing Back

The shift didn’t announce itself. There were no dramatic realizations or defining moments. It happened quietly, in moments too small to mark on a calendar: when someone who swore they hated nursing found themselves genuinely invested in a patient’s recovery; when pharmacology suddenly made sense and understanding felt better than expected; when they put on scrubs at LUTH, caught their reflection, and thought just for a second — “I look like a nurse.” “I’ve come to really love and enjoy it,” one student says, surprise still evident in her voice. “I came to terms with it faster than I imagined, especially after speaking with experienced people.”

Those experienced people understood something the students were still learning: nursing doesn’t force itself on anyone. It presents itself, day after day, in lectures and at bedsides, and waits. For one student, the realization came quietly: “I think deep down, I understood my passion for healthcare was about putting smiles on people’s faces and solving their health problems.” That’s the turning point when you stop asking “why did this happen to me?” and start asking “what if this is exactly where I’m supposed to be?” The senior nurses and instructors at LUTH had seen this journey before. They knew passion doesn’t always arrive with certainty; sometimes it waits for you to stop looking backward long enough to see what’s in front of you.

The Dance of Choosing

Here’s what nobody tells you about calling: it’s not a one-time choice, it’s a conversation. Nursing shows up and says, “I see something in you,” and you decide whether to answer “okay, show me,” or keep insisting, “this wasn’t the plan.” Becoming good at nursing isn’t about having the right feelings from day one; it’s about showing up, being present, and letting the work change you. You don’t decide to care deeply about patients; you show up enough times, and one day you realize you already do. That’s when you know you’ve responded.

When asked if they’d made peace with nursing, one student answered simply, “Yes.” When asked if they’d choose nursing again, another replied, “Yes, absolutely. I know that while being here, I can be anything. There are many specialties and options. Why not?” That’s acceptance speaking, not settling, but recognizing that what felt like a detour might be the destination.

Where They Stand Now

Different classes across different levels, they move differently now in corporate wear during lectures, in scrubs at LUTH, carrying the confidence that comes from wrestling with something and making peace with it. The early divide has softened. Some arrived knowing nursing was their calling, others discovered it by trying to avoid it, but both journeys lead to the same place: a profession that asks to be chosen every day.

Most would say yes, now not a tired yes, but a “this chose me, and I’m choosing it back” yes. They’ve stopped asking “why nursing?” and started asking “why not?” They’ve stopped resisting and started becoming. And in that becoming, they’ve learned something unexpected: being chosen by something larger than your plans doesn’t feel like settling. It feels like being found.  It feels like being found.

Like coming home to a place you never knew you were looking for, but recognizing it the moment you arrive.

Author: Obayemi Faith Ifeoluwa

Editor: Ibrahim Rabiatu Deborah