There are three things I have wanted more than anything else in my entire life: to marry Z, to write a novel, and to become a nurse practitioner. Of all the resources I have ever possessed, the majority have been devoted to these three goals.
I should mention that I am starting this post approximately twenty minutes after having scheduled my FNP boards.
Learning the language of nursing was hard, but learning how to be a provider (aka “nurse practitioner”) was natural once I found the right clinical site. I was a good clinical student (a good classroom student, too, for that matter) and there are a number of people who have been telling me to just take the exam because they are convinced I will be fine and feel so much better afterwards. I don’t know why I am so afraid.
I have been terrified of exams before. Every test ever taken in any of those prerequisite classes was an ordeal, carrying with it the potential for shame and failure. While I never feared the exams during my BSN quite so deeply (since my expectations were considerably lower) the NCLEX-RN itself was a beast. But the FNP boards aren’t like the NCLEX-RN.
The NCLEX-RN was a game, albeit a twisted, sordid little game, but one that I could play since I had an understanding of the rules. The FNP exam isn’t computer-adaptive. It won’t shut off once I’ve managed to survive long enough and convince it that I am minimally competent to practice. I will have to take all of the questions and I will have to get a certain amount of them correct. If the NCLEX-RN was a professional torturer, at least there was the knowledge the torture would end once I had proven myself. The FNP exam is simply Judgment Day.
When I was preparing for the NCLEX-RN I had the benefit of a Kaplan review course at the end of my program. Together with the rest of my cohort, I learned how to play the game from an experienced and delightful instructor. After that, I did practice questions (daily, I think?) in preparation. As I said in a previous post, I scheduled my exam kind of on a whim. I’m not sure I felt “ready”, but I definitely wasn’t terrified. I felt anxious and frustrated the day before my test, but not petrified.
I think I’ve cried every single day that I’ve been studying for my FNP boards. I melt down. I have to baby-talk myself down from dizzying heights of anxiety. It is probably a good thing I’m a psych nurse, since I am using all of my tricks on myself right now. (It’s the day after I scheduled my exam, right now, by the way.)
(Scratch that, it’s now the day before I’m supposed to take this @*#&$^%&* exam and I am stressed beyond description. I also have a BA in English Literature. This should give anyone an idea of how stressed I am if I am stressed beyond — oh, wait. If I just illustrated that…maybe it counts as description…? I DON’T KNOW. I DON’T KNOW ANYTHING. I AM SO STRESSED.)
I don’t want to play anymore games, I don’t want to take anymore tests, I just want this to be over and to read the word PASSED on my computer screen. Commence melting down once more.
(It is now the morning of this #*!$&%!*@#^*&^ exam.) I am so tired and so anxious. I completed the bundle of practice quizzes I bought two days ago. Averaged an 80.9%. Is that good? I don’t know. Took the practice exam off the AANPCP website, 75 retired questions. Got a 91%. I think that’s good? I also think my head is going to explode from trying to retain so much information. Yesterday, I was reviewing the content from my books, doing the practice questions within the books, and thought, “Oh, I should take a predictor exam,” as though that would give me the last-minute confidence I am so desperately seeking.
So I bought a predictor exam from APEA around 8:00pm last night and then started it up around 10:00. WHYYYY? It’s like I have to procrastinate about every single little step. And then, of course, even though I thought I was being strategic by waiting until Z was tucked quietly into bed before attempting, the police cars and helicopters chasing someone up and down the nearby area completely ruined my concentration. I wanted to scream at them.
Time was running out on my predictor exam and I could barely concentrate on the questions. I blazed through at least the last 30 questions without carefully reading them, costing me a number of points, I’m sure. I finished the test with two minutes to spare and pressed the end button. The number “80” popped up on a screen with the questions I missed and that’s when I broke down for good. There’s no way I can pass the real exam, I thought. If I only got 80 questions right on this stupid predictor it’s going to say that I’m not at all likely to pass. I shouldn’t have scheduled the test; I’m going to fail.
Then I got mad at the predictor exam. What are these questions anyway? I thought angrily. They make no sense and I don’t think they’re important for primary care! Why can’t the questions just reflect what I need to know to start practicing competently?
I thought about just closing the whole thing, but decided to review my errors anyway. There’s still one question that I think my answer was correct and the scoring was wrong. Anyway, I reviewed the mistakes, made notes, and clicked the button to take me to the next page for a breakdown of my scores by knowledge area (“Hematology”) and testing domain (“Assessment”).
That’s when I see it – 80%. Not 80 questions out of 150 correct, which probably would have put me in the red “unlikely success on certification exam” category. No, 80% puts me in the green “highly likelihood of success on certification exam” category. Ah, so that’s why the number was in green…like a stoplight. The realization of this shocks and numbs me, not so much that I stop crying completely, but I manage to make it to bed without sobbing and waking Z up.
It wasn’t until this morning that I realized I probably had way more time for that predictor than I thought. For some reason, I expected it to shut off at two hours (like the 75-question AANPCP practice test) but since it was a full 150 question…I probably had at least another hour.
I wish I could say that taking the predictor (under less-than-ideal circumstances! with many distractions! in a constrained time format!) and successfully passing (only needed 70% to pass! got 80%!) has imbued me with a well of confidence about taking my test today. It has not. I am still shaking with fear and feeling queasy. The only thing it has done is convince me that maybe, just maybe, it wasn’t a mistake to schedule the test for today. And that maybe, just maybe, I know enough to scrape by.
This morning, I told Z: “Pray that the test that pops up on my screen is the one that I’ve studied for.” I don’t know everything. I’m not even convinced I know enough. And there is probably at least one version (maybe more) of this test that I cannot pass. But there is also probably at least one version (maybe more) of this test that I can pass. So I am praying fervently that that is what shows up on my screen today.