Sarah Jane has no career aspirations, all she wants is to leave school, work as a cashier at Woolworths and get married. Then everything changes and she finds herself wearing a fluorescent pink uniform and studying to get into Nursing School. What inspired this surprising change of direction? What happens when she leaves home to live in a garrison town with a housemate who is a party animal? The big question being, is she really cut out to be a nurse?
Let's start at the beginning with Sarah Jane as a sixteen-year-old country girl, a bit old fashioned but who has a mischievous sense of humour and who suddenly decides she wants to be a nurse!
"This funny, yet poignant nursing memoir has Sarah Jane's trademark honest writing style which shines through in every story she tells. From starting her student nurse training in Essex to coping with patients in happy, sad and heart-breaking situations. It gives you a young woman's view into the realities of entering the world of nursing in the 1980’s. A highly entertaining and informative memoir which was able to take me from laughing out loud to having welled tears of empathy." S. Brewster
This is the first book in a new nursing memoir series. As an established international best-selling memoir author, I have an established fan base and author platform from which to promote my translated books. I have over 20K Twitter followers over my personal and book accounts.
This sudden sense of being lonely, small and inadequate heightened when I heard what I presumed to be the other house mates arrive home within a few minutes of Keith leaving. I wondered if they had seen or spoken to him as he left the house. I don’t know why, but I presumed they were in their rooms studying or sleeping when I arrived as the house was so quiet. Now congregating in the hall and kitchen by the sounds of their voices, they talked about questions in the Hospital Final’s examination and what they planned to do that evening. I opened my door a little wider to try to listen harder and to work out how many voices I could hear. However, they obviously heard the door creak because they ran up the stairs like excited kids hearing an ice cream van in the street on a hot sunny day. Before I had chance to move or do anything there they were in front of me, all wearing their nurse uniforms and standing looking at me. I immediately also realised that my makeup and mascara, diluted by my tears, made it obvious that I had been crying because Josie, whose room was downstairs lunged forward and hugged me. As I would discover over the coming weeks, Josie was the extrovert, party animal of the house. She was tall, with dark, short-cropped hair and large brown eyes.
“Don’t cry sweetie, we don’t bite,” she said.
The other two girls were different in both physical appearance and their personalities. Tracy had long dark hair, which she had released from its hair band during my uncomfortably elongated hug from Josie. She said hello, introduced herself and pointed to her room, number 3, then left. Tracy was a classic biker chick, wore no makeup and had an extremely pale complexion. Karen, the third girl, had short spiky hair and piercing blue eyes, which for some reason made me feel uneasy. After a short introduction, she didn’t hang around either.
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French
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Translation in progress.
Translated by Hanna Assouline
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Italian
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Already translated.
Translated by Michela Tetto
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Spanish
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Already translated.
Translated by Rebeca Pérez Durán
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Turkish
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Already translated.
Translated by TUBA CEKINIRER
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