Monday, March 18, 2013

Introducing. . .

We were blessed with the arrival of a healthy baby boy on the 23rd of February, just two days before my own birthday. Henrik David weighed in at 3.93 kilograms (8lbs 10oz) and 51cm (20in) long.

Labor was a relatively short and intense experience, as we arrived at the hospital around 8:30pm and Henrik entered the world at 11:23pm. It was a textbook labor and birth, and an even better recovery, leaving this midwife/mom quite relieved and pleased with the whole experience.

Erik had two weeks free from his job after the birth (thank you Norway!) and my mom is now visiting for two weeks. Greta stortrives (is thriving) and is a flink (capable) and stolt (proud) storesøster (big sister). It is all we can do to keep her from smothering him with kisses. 

Once we establish a more regular sleeping/nap schedule, I'll make an attempt at writing all the "maternity care in Norway" blog entries that I promised back in November. Until then. . .

Velkommen hjem Henrik!

Thursday, February 21, 2013

Hope is waning and FAQs

I really should have learned my lesson by now, it's been taught to me enough: don't get my hopes up. I admit, I did finally allow myself to get hopeful after meeting with two nursing figures two weeks ago. One all but promised me we would get this straightened out within weeks; her conviction and fearlessness and simple interest and passion in our case--something we haven't gotten from anyone outside our own four walls at home--won us over. I had hope again.

We spoke with her last evening, after she had a meeting with a higher-up in the authorization office, and she admitted she now has a better understanding of what we are up against, namely Norwegian bureaucracy and Norwegian laws, and that sheer determination mixed with a little piss and vinegar isn't enough to break down those walls. There are official roads that we must take, and none of them are quick. Or easy (but c'mon. . . who was expecting quick and easy after 28 months?). Our two options at this point are essentially using a sivilombudsman (kind of a civil court of judges) to review the case and/or hiring an attorney.

Fun huh?

Did I mention that I am now 3 days away from my due date of our second child, and the thought of filing a law suit to fight for the right to work in this country has me (oh, what adjective captures my feelings) . . . a combination of disgusted, infuriated and exhausted. I'm sure the Finns have a word for it.

I thought I'd take a few minutes and address some of the questions and suggestions (all well-intentioned, of course) that I've received over the last few months about what-exactly-is-the-problem??? (And then maybe I'll stop writing about this for a while, because it's really becoming a way-too common theme of this blog, and I think I'm boring my readers!).

FAQ:

What exactly do the Norwegian authorities feel is not good enough in your nursing education?
It essentially boils down to how Europe and the US count credit hours. To put it generally, in Norway--and Europe--the number of hours spent both in and outside of class is included in the grand total of credit hours. In the US, our credit hours reflect the number of "contact hours" that students spend in-class, with the assumption that for every credit hour in class a student is spending 2-3 hours outside of class in preparation, research, projects, group work, etc.

This is a well-documented fact. There are several references that give guidance on how to convert American to European credits. My advisors and chair department heads at my bachelors and masters degree institutions explained this in depth. A Norwegian college dean compared her nursing program to mine and declared that my degree had more hours than the Norwegian program. My two degrees have been approved by NOKUT (the Norwegian Agency for Quality Assurance in Education), which recognizes foreign higher education degrees.

All of this was ignored and not acknowledged by the authorization board and the health professionals appeal board.

Can't you just take a test or something? 
Norway actually does not have a national nursing exam that all newly educated nurses must pass in order to be licensed. Unlike the "nursing boards" in the United States, of which every newly graduated nursing student must take in order to become a Registered Nurse.

So, no. There is no test for me to take.

Is this happening to other American nurses?
Yes and No.

This is where the handling of these cases becomes completely arbitrary and inconsistent.

Most foreign applicants (from outside of the European Union) for nursing authorization in Norway are required to complete 8+ weeks of clinical time in various areas of nursing training. This most often is in the areas of psychiatry or on a medical/surgical unit.

It seemed that around the time of my decision from the appeals board (in May 2012) that the authorization board was getting more strict with its decisions regarding American nursing educations, but then I met two American-educated nurses while I took the national nursing course in November. Both of them had been approved by the authorization board--one without a single extra requirement, and with only verbal complaints via telephone, and nothing through the formal channels.

It is this inconsistency and arbitrary treatment that is infuriating.

You know, Norwegian nurses have the same problem getting a license in the United States. . . 
This may be true. But to be honest, this is not the issue at hand. We're talking about inconsistent, arbitrary and poorly researched treatment of American nurses in Norway, and not vice versa.

Can't you just reapply, just send in all your papers again to a different case manager?
This was suggested time and time again to me by my fellow students in the national nursing course.

No. I can't just reapply, and pretend that I haven't been the biggest pain in their ass over the last two years. According to Norwegian law, I have gone through the all of the appropriate legal channels--two written appeals with the authorization board, one appeal with the health professionals appeals board--and now my case is considered completely closed.

Can't someone at a college/university evaluate your transcripts and education and say which classes you would have to take to get a Norwegian nursing degree?
Funny you should suggest that. . . because we have done that, and a dean at a local college that offers a nursing program has evaluated my transcripts and work experience and has deemed that my education looks whole and complete and that her nursing program can't offer me a single thing.

Additionally, a college can't just hand me a degree and say "you seem to have done enough work". I need to take at least one years of courses (out of three) before I can be granted a degree.






Sunday, February 10, 2013

Hope

Months have sped by, and my motivation to blog through the after-effects of my nursing course, Christmas preparations, two solid months of work, growing a baby and general day-to-day life busyness has been minimal. 

But I do owe you a few updates. . . 

The last real development in my quest for nursing/midwifery authorization was in late November, when a few members of Parliament spoke out in my behalf. But the buzz and momentum fizzled a bit after that, due to a combination of more pressing healthcare and other political events (hard to believe, I know) and Christmas break. 

I cannot be terribly specific in describing with whom we've been consulting, but after months and months of emails and phone calls and referrals from one person to another, we've eventually nailed down a few players in higher-up nursing/midwifery circles who are supportive, understanding, disgusted, and began working "undercover," so to speak. Many feel that they cannot officially come out and support me publicly, which has been a bit frustrating. It was also suggested that we form a Facebook "support group" where people can officially and publicly voice their support and let it be known to SAK (the artists formerly known as SAFH, the Norwegian authroization office for health professionals) that we ain't goin' away. Two who have supported the group include the local county/regional office of the Norsk Sykepleierforbund (the Norwegian nursing association/union) who is calling for SAK to reevaluate my application, based on the evaluation done by the local college research dean who judged that my bachelor's degree nursing education and work experience equaled (and exceeded) what her educational institution could offer me as a new nursing student. Also supporting the group is the member of Parliament who initially spoke out on my behalf. You can find the support group here: Støttegruppe for Emily Stange

Since then, Erik (and Greta) and I traveled to Oslo this past week, armed with binders of documents and correspondence, and met with the member of Parliament to discuss possible courses of action. We also met with two other powerful nursing figures who seem to have more connections than the Queen herself. For example, when we mentioned that we had been in contact with (names have been changed for the time being. . . ) Kari Nordmann, former head of a midwife organization, who cannot understand the reasoning behind SAK denying my midwife application, one of our two powerful nursing figures said, "Oh yes, she's my best friend. I'm having lunch with her next week. We'll contact this other Powerful Nursing Figure and get this straightened out." 

I have not allowed my hopes to get raised at all in the past few months, as they have tended to get dashed shortly thereafter. But even I will admit that these were very positive meetings with tremendous potential and--dare I say it outloud--I do have some hope for the first time in a very, very long time. 

Tuesday, December 25, 2012

Merry Christmas and God Jul!

Merry Christmas from the Winter Wonderland!
We've had nearly a foot of snow over the last few days, with a picture-postcard-perfect snowfall setting the mood for Christmas. We've been enjoying our first real Christmas in our new house and piecing together Norwegian and American customs and traditions and experiencing Christmas through the eyes of a 4-year old.

I have much I'd love to write about--my month in Oslo, the class experience, the update on the nursing stuff, work-related, Christmas reflections--but it has been a busy and exhausting month.

A Merry Christmas and here is to prosperous and Happy 2013 to you all!

Wednesday, November 21, 2012

A Random Act of Kindness in Oslo

I was walking to class today--my last day of class--which started at noon with an exam review/prep. It's a 20 minute walk from Majorstuen to the Pilestredet campus of the Høyskole i Oslo/Akershus. I stopped in to a bookstore kitty-corner from the nursing building to buy a notebook (yes, on my last day of class) but when I got to the counter to pay, my wallet wasn't in my backpack. I clearly remembered sticking it in the outside pocket when I packed up this morning; I also remembered reaching back to pull out my hat and gloves from the outside pocket 5 minutes into my walk, and noticing that the outside pocket was unbuckled, and thinking nothing of it; but I also remembered flipping through the collection of free coffee cards stored in my wallet as I sat at the kitchen table this morning.

Did the wallet fall out when I pulled out my hat? Was it sitting on the kitchen table in the apartment? Was it sitting on the sidewalk somewhere along my 2km route?

I left the store, unable to pay, and stood on the corner wondering what to do. My class was starting now. It wasn't mandatory that I be there, but since the other four weeks have essentially sucked, and this one was discussing how to prepare for the final exam--the only thing that actually counts towards passing or failing this course--it was probably one of the more important classes to attend. My phone rang; I pushed the ignore button and sent it to voicemail. If I walked all the way back to the apartment--20+ minutes and back again--I'd miss almost the entire review. And if I found the wallet in my apartment--a strong likelihood--I'd be ticked at myself. My phone rang again and I let it go to voice mail again. It was probably work or the midwife's office trying to change an appointment.

I'd go to class and unpack my backpack in a dry, secure environment and listen to the review. My phone rang again. Suddenly I realized: this might be important.

"Hello?"

"Er det Emily Stange?"  (maybe this is obvious, but "Is this Emily Stange?")

"Ja, det er det. . . "  (Yes, it is. . .)

"Har du mistet lommaboka di?"  (have you lost your wallet?)

"JA! DET HAR JEG! Har du fant det?"   (YES! I HAVE! Have you found it?)

(We continue in Norwegian, which is not my favorite thing to do on the telephone, especially in conversations that are very important!)

"I'm in Majorstuen," (where I had just walked from), "Where are you? I'll bring it to you."

"I'm on Pilestredet, at the college campus."

"I'm near Bislett stadium, coming down Pilestredet. . . what store is near you?"

"Uhhh. . . Akademika bookstore (there are only about five of these in the vicinity, as they spread out their subjects into different stores). I'm on the corner of (I sprint across the street) somethingsomething veien and Pilestredet."

"I'm at Deli de Luca, I think I'm just around the corner. . . "

"I could meet you at Deli de Luca, " (again, only about a hundred million of these convenience stores in Oslo, so while I knew where the closest one, who knew if it was the one he was driving past at that exact second).

"I'm coming to a light. . . Yes. . . that's me in the Porsche."

That's right: my wallet-rescuing-Oslo-hero/angel was driving a gray convertible Porsche, with the top up. He rolls down the window, a ruggedly bearded guy in his late 30s, and hands my wallet to me.

I gush my thanks to him, and ask him where he found it.

"On suchandsucha-veien. . . " he explains, and I have no idea where he's talking about, but I'm standing in the middle of the street, and the light begins to turn. 

"Tusen tusen takk!" 

"Ingen problem. . . " 

I text Erik a very abbreviated version of the story, and he responds by telling me how very very lucky I am. I text back that it changed my whole perspective of the day.

His response: "Yay Norway!"

Yay Norway, indeed.



***How did he get my cell phone number, you ask? In Norway one just goes to guleside.no and type in a person's name and you get a phone number (including cell phone) and address. Or type in their phone number and get their name and address. Pretty simple.



Monday, November 19, 2012

Introducing. . . maternity care in Norway


Jeg er gravid. . .  Jeg har baby i magen. . .  Vi venter et barn!
All Norwegian expressions meaning:
I am pregnant. . . I have a baby in my belly. . . We’re expecting a child!
All true, my friends. All true.

Although I am now much further along than when I originally wrote the following post, at 10 weeks gestation back in late July. You’ll have to forgive me for keeping the news off the blogosphere for a few months.

I promise this will not morph into a mommy-blog, or a pregnancy-blog, but will try to keep it true to its roots of an American-Woman-Making-Her-Way-Through-Life-in Norway-blog. But as an American midwife, with many friends and colleagues back in the States in the baby business, my experiences and impressions of pregnancy care in Norway are a big part of my ex-pat experiences in general. So here goes a back-dated-July blog:

I had my first svangerskapkontrol (pregnancy appointment) in mid-July at 10 weeks. I should point out that while insurance is "free" in Norway (supported by their hefty taxes), general medical care to adults is not free. Care for children and for pregnant women is, however, 100% covered. Midwives attend approximately 70% of all births in Norway, leaving the complicated pregnancies and births to the physicians. Midwives are, by law, required to be available to a pregnant mother in every community in Norway for her prenatal care as well. Most midwives seem to practice either in the clinic setting providing prenatal care, or in the hospital setting providing care surrounding birth, but not both, as most midwives do in the US. Either you are employed by the kommune (community/city) for prenatal care or by the public hospital for labor/delivery/postpartum care.

Despite this overwhelming presence of midwives, it is normal for a woman to have her first prenatal appointment with her fastlege.  A fastlege is her family doctor, whom she may or may not have had many options in choosing. I had a decent fastlege, but thought he was a bit too male for my liking, and switched to a female fastlege who had helped my own dad with some dental pain. But just four days before my first appointment with her to diagnose and treat a sinus infection, she began her maternity leave. I was then automatically switched to a third fastlege. Another male.

So at 10 weeks gestation, with Erik in tow, we go to meet my fastlege for my first prenatal appointment. This pregnancy was much like my first—virtually undetectable, virtually asymptomatic—of which I dare not complain. That said, there is something very reassuring about symptoms, however unpleasant they are—you realize that something is in fact developing deep within your body.

Last time around, I was well-connected to (ok, employed by) the obstetric department at a major regional medical center and teaching hospital, and started off the pregnancy being reassured by rising serial hCG levels (pregnancy hormones) and two early ultrasounds to help in dating our somewhat surprise pregnancy. All of which were medically justifiable, in my mind. So, despite any symptoms of nausea or fatigue last time around, I knew things were OK. This time around, without any medical reasons for hormone levels or ultrasounds, I just had to trust nature and my body and my training that everything was proceeding as normal. And I was OK with that, too. Honestly, I was! (Ok, I was a little uneasy about it. . . but that's normal, too).

At 10 weeks into a pregnancy, a health care provider could be able to hear a fetal heartbeat (as my midwife was able to do when I was pregnant with Greta), although admittedly this is not always possible. This is really the only reason why I dragged Erik along to this otherwise rather boring and routine appointment. My fastlege, however, had no intention of attempting to hear the heartbeat. “It won’t give us any useful information,” he informed me.
“Uhhh. . . yes it can,” I countered, getting a little testy, and trying to express myself calmly in Norwegian. “For one, it can reassure me that everything is OK! And, it would give you some idea whether my dates are accurate or not.” I wasn’t asking for a ultrasound, for Pete’s sake, just a heartrate check.
“Well. . . we don’t actually have the capability of doing that here at this office anyway,” he responded. Which, it occurred to me later, is probably bullshit. Even though most women see the midwife for their prenatal care, some do choose to see their fastlege and most women go back for at least one or two visits with their fastlege during the course of the pregnancy. And if a pregnant woman is showing up at her fastlege for a routine prenatal visit, would the physician not check the fetal heartbeat? I think not. Somewhere in that damn office was a handheld Doppler ultrasound. I just knew it.

My blood pressure was rising, can you tell? Five minutes into this visit and I was not impressed with maternity care in Norway.

Speaking of blood pressure, he then proceeded to take my blood pressure (surprisingly low, considering) and do the all-so-informative-yet-obligtory listening to a perfectly-healthy-woman-in-her-mid-30’s heart and lungs. ‘Cause that would give him so much useful information. . .

Next on his list was the gathering of Important Information to be entered into a computer database: my job, Erik’s job, my religion, was my first birth a vaginal or c-section delivery, how much she weighed, and what her Apgar* score was (although when I reported them as 8 and 9 (1 and 5 minutes), he said, “. . . and?. . . “ waiting for the 10 minute Apgar score. In the US, once you hit a score of 9 at 5 minutes, we don’t do a 10 minute score. Aside from a brief health history, that was the extent to which he was curious about my previous pregnancy. No questions about use of anesthesia, length of labor, breastfeeding, postpartum depression. . . 

He moved on, namely to the issue of prenatal genetic testing and/or screening, specifically for Trisomies 18 and 21. As I will be (full disclosure here) right around the ripe young age of 38 when this baby is born, I automatically have the right to genetic testing, provided and paid for by the Norwegian health care system. Apparently, if you are under the age of 38, you are not offered these tests (although I’m sure there are some extenuating circumstances). In the US, it’s really available to any woman of any age. . . given that your insurance pays for it, of course! 

In my previous job, the midwives used an increasing amount of time of our 60 minute first prenatal visits counseling our patients on the different options of prenatal testing, so I was quite informed on what the options were, what information they gave us, how accurate they were, etc. So, I was a bit surprised when my fastlege told me we’d have to hurry to get me into the ultrasound to measure the nuchal translucency (neck thickness), because time was getting late. “Odd. . . “ I thought. “That’s usually at 12 weeks. I’m only 10 weeks. Do they do it earlier here? Is this test somehow different? Am I not remember this correctly?”

So, I asked him, and inquired about which hormones they measure along with the ultrasound—is this a first trimester test only, or a combined test with more labs drawn in the second trimester? The tests are becoming more extensive and therefore more accurate in the US—the more hormones you measure, the more information you get, and the more accurate the screening becomes. His response, “You’ll have to talk to the doctor about that when you get your ultrasound at the hospital.”

Huh? This is the doctor that I am sent to when I encounter a “complication” in my pregnancy, unless it’s too complicated, and then I’m sent to the obstetrician? But he can’t adequately counsel me on a screening test done immediately following my first prenatal visit? Assuming I knew nothing about these tests, I would have to base my decision on whether or not to do this screening based on this crappy counseling? And what if I get to the ultrasound/screening visit and decide I don’t want the test after all? What a waste of everybody’s time!

As you might guess, 15 minutes into this visit and I was even less impressed with maternity care in Norway. I was quite furious when I left the office, although I really tried to keep it in perspective. I had high expectations, or probaby more accurately, I had high standards. To add to my frustration with the whole system, I knew that the care, reassurance, and counseling that I provided women during their first prenatal visit was highly superior to what I had just received. If I dare say so myself.

Coming soon: my screening tests (more confusion) and first visit with the midwife (she’s wonderful!). So a mix of annoying and good.


*Apgar score:  a score of 0-10 given to a newborn at 1 , 5 and possibly 10 minutes of life, evaluating their transition to extrauterine life. Their color, tone, respiratory effort, pulse and reflexes are given points of 0, 1 or 2. A low score indicates that the baby needs assistance and possibly resuscitation to transition to life outside the uterus. 


Sunday, November 18, 2012

If only I had a guest blogger. . .

I am beginning week four out of four of my bachelorette month in November. The month has gone by relatively quickly, with weekends at home in Lillehammer and weeknights filled with meeting blogging and Oslo Facebook friends. The nasjonale fag kurs (national nursing course) has been about what I expected: a waste of time and money. But more on that later, like when I find out that I've actually passed it and there aren't any repercussions for telling the truth on the matter.

In the meantime, there have been some interesting developments regarding my new found media fame as Lillehammer's out of work American midwife. This is where I wish I had a guest blogger--Erik specifically--as he has had more contact with the journalist and media in the last few weeks, as I've been off drinking cappuccinos in Oslo.

The day after the original report aired, NRK aired a follow-up report, in which they interviewed the leader of the Norwegian Parliament's health committee. He was quoted as saying he found it strange that it was so difficult for me to get authorization, especially since in the "US there is a high level of education", and he kind of laughed in an "that's-an-understatement" kind of way.

A few days after that, a radio report stated that another member of Parliament on the health committee announced that she had sent a formal letter to the Minister of Health Care Services, demanding that my case--and the appeals board process--be investigated. He apparently has six days to respond to this letter. This particular politician (according to what we are told, 'cause I honestly don't follow Norwegian politics too closely), is rather right-wing and her party has also been known to be rather anti-immigrant. She was questioned as to why she is supporting this (my) case, when they typically take a more anti-immigrant stand, and she essentially responded that, "Look, here is someone who came to Norway because they wanted to work and were not looking for handouts. She is highly trained, highly educated, speaks good Norwegian. . . Norway is never going to survive if we turn away people like this."

To say that this is all a bit surreal is the understatement of the year. I feel so detached from the whole process it's like this is all happening to someone else. I am not hoping for major changes in the law, as I feel that would both take too long to help me out at all (selfish reason), but also because I don't know that it's necessary. At this point what needs to happen is finding some way to enforce fairness and consistency in the way American nursing educations are evaluated.

More to come. . . but for now I need to go write a paper on Norwegian health laws. How ironic.