You get used to nursing school. A common misconception, a gentle lie we tell freshmen to keep their spirits high during orientation week. People outside this academic bubble often ask, “Have you settled in yet?” as if this life is a house you can simply move into and decorate with clinical manuals. But do you truly get used to anything that demands a piece of your soul every single morning? Do you get used to the weight of responsibility that rests on your shoulders before you’ve even had your first cup of water? Or do you just learn to move with the flow, like a leaf caught in the current of a powerful, unpredictable river?

O, nursing school, the mighty, relentless, and unforgiving nursing school. It is a world governed by its own laws and its own specific brand of chaos. It is a place where your schedule is never truly your own. Just like we never quite get used to the twenty-naira charges that sneak up on our bank alerts, draining our accounts one “convenience fee” at a time, we never quite adjust to the friction of this life. We don’t get used to the sudden, heavy silence when the power fails in the middle of a study session, followed by the inevitable, monotonous announcement: “There is a problem with the 33 kV wire.” We certainly don’t get used to that one lecturer, the one who seems to possess an infinite reservoir of energy, who manages to find a brand-new, soul-crushing assignment every single week, usually right when you thought you could finally close your eyes for an hour of honest sleep.

The Weight of the badge

And yet… here we are. Look around you. Despite the sleeplessness that makes the world feel blurry, despite the exams that feel like a trial by fire, we are still standing. We are still showing up at the wards in our peach scrubs, pressed, and our hearts carefully guarded. We are still breathing, still waiting, waiting for the results, waiting for the shift to end, waiting for the moment it all finally makes sense. We are still breathing, even when our lungs feel heavy, as if they are physically carrying the weight of every night spent huddled over a slide in the reading room, every cup of salty instant noodles eaten at 10:00 PM, and every precious nap we sacrificed for the sake of a grade. We carry the silence of the library and the noise of the clinic within us at once.

Then, out of nowhere, it hits you. Maybe it’s when campus is so quiet you can hear your own thoughts, the sun painting the hostels in that weird, dramatic purple. Maybe it’s when your hands tremble as you adjust your stethoscope, or when you shock yourself by actually knowing the answer to a clinical instructor’s impossible question. Suddenly, your ears burn not from shame but from the wild realization of how far you’ve come. You’re not the same person who started this madness. You’ve been shaped by everything you’ve survived.

The Ghost of the Timeline

We love to talk about the timeline: five years (+x). That “x” is a ghost that haunts us, the strikes, the delays, and the administrative hurdles that make it feel like we’ve been in school for the rest of our lives. We have been walking and talking and eating since we were children, yet here, we find ourselves stretched so thin that even the basic act of moving forward feels like a monumental feat. We get tired. We get frustrated. We wonder if the “destination” is even real or if we are just running on a treadmill.

But this journey is not just a test of intellect; it is a test of hope. This piece is for the Class Phoenix, rising from the ashes of every setback and every long night. It is for the Class Querencia, finding their place of strength and sanctuary amidst the storm of clinical postings. It is for the Class Praestansia and the Class Valora, the brave and the excellent, who refuse to let their standards slip even when their energy is spent. We are all walking different paths, carrying different burdens and personal silent battles, yet we are fuelled by the same relentless hope. We are only a few years or a few months away from the life we’ve been chasing, the one where the “student” tag finally drops away and we step into our own authority.

Shaping the Promise

Think back to those resolutions you made at the start of the year. Do you remember the fire you felt? It is far too soon to back out now. You didn’t come this far just to come this far. We are not just surviving a curriculum; we are shaping the lives we promised to our younger selves. We are becoming the people who will stand between life and death, one long day, one small victory, and one patient at a time.

We will get through this together.

We will lean on each other when the 33 kV wire stays faulty, the assignments keep piling up, and our hearts race before every practical exam. And when we finally look back, exhausted and drained, but ultimately undefeated, we will realize the truth: we never actually got used to it. Our bodies still protest, and our minds still reel, because the hardship never became “easy”.

Yet, somehow, that is exactly what makes the victory worth it. The fact that it stayed hard, and we stayed harder.

Once again, we will get through this. Together!

Author: Ikejiaku Ancie Chizaramekpere

Editor: Obayemi Ifeoluwa