They said it’s traumatizing and often thankless. It’s chaotic and impossible to feel caught up. That it’s draining and easily turns that desire to help people into a disdain for the healthcare system. They said you’re likely to burn out—most people do.
And with all those things listed out? I can admit I was intimidated. Who wouldn’t be? Itdoessound rough. But some things they shared as hardships of the job I only saw as reasons why it was perfect for me.
Because I’d been an ER patient and had lost alot. So I knew what I wanted out of my job. What I needed.
First? The lack of downtime. I’ve talked about this before and I’ll continue to preach it: having a job that doesn’t allow for a wandering mind is really, really great for someone who doesn’t want to get lost in their thoughts. Maybe someday this will change, but when I was picking a specialty? And even now? I crave the utter focus my job requires.
The days I go to work are often my best mental health days, despite the trauma that so regularly comes through those doors. Sure, the reminder of my own can hit me like a wall, but just as quickly I’m swept away in the task of it all. I’m justworkingandhelpingandpassing timefaster than anything I’ve ever experienced. For the most part, I don’t even think much about my work day once I’m home. Which leads me to the next thing on the list.
Emergency room patients are in and out. And you know what that means? No long-term relationships. This one is a major downside for most people getting into nursing. You hear the stories of the angel nurses that patients connect with and how they become almost like family. How they kept in touch over the years because of how much time they spent together in the hospital. And don’t get me wrong, Ilovethose stories. I do. I fell in love with nursing because of those stories.
But after the accident, the idea of forming meaningful, lasting relationships with patients scared the shit out of me. I didn’t even want new friends or a boyfriend for nearly two years after my mom died. So the idea of having a constant influx of people to get attached to? No, thank you. Getting attached is allfine and good until your patient dies. And then not only is your patient dead (shitty), but you’re way more heartbroken because youknewthem and now they are gone (ultra, ultra shitty). I’m not going to say it’s a matter of quantity over quality, because that’s a gross oversimplification (and probably makes it sound like I don’t deeply care about helping my patients), but you get the picture. I have to care without getting attached. Because in the ER, you just don’t have thetime. And that works in my favor.
The next two things were just…things I couldn’t get out of my head. Things that really stuck with me sincemyday in the ER.
When I was a patient there, a lot of it was a blur. Not really in a metaphorical way either. I was in and out of consciousness and often I’d open my eyes to bright, unfocused light. The noise was not loud, but it was jarring all the same. I was lost and confused. I was hurting. And I wasscared.
I must have said it out loud at some point, because despite the blur, I have a very clear memory of one of those aforementioned angel nurses.
She said it was okay to be scared because she wasn’t.
She held my hand a lot and talked me through what was happening. When she found out I was in school to be a nurse she got more detailed in her descriptions of various procedures—more technical. I still remember her voice and how calm she was. How she made me less scared just by the simple fact that she wasn’t. There was something so comforting about that.
I so badly wanted to have that type of impact on my patients. To bring peace to an often chaotic place. Safety to somewhere people feel scared.I can do that,I remember thinking. And I hope I do. It’s one of the main reasons I love my job and why I continue to do it.
Sometimes that’s the main thing the doctor needs my help with, keeping the patient calm—getting them to focus on something as simple as breathing. And I was doing that today,using my normal script and holding his hand, when I noticed his nails were messily painted bright purple. The edges were uneven and some smudges of the polish were on his fingers. I asked him where he got his manicure.
“My five-year-old,” he rasped. “Little girl.”
I should’ve seen that coming—the adorably sloppy job had tiny human written all over it—but that sentiment left me reeling. I knew from the doctor and my own read on things that his chest injuries were causing a rapid decline. He wasn’t going to make it. He wasn’t going to see his daughter again. And she wasn’t going to see him.
It’s a shitty club: the dead parent club. I wish so badly that little girl didn’t have to join it. I think it’ll be a while before I can get him—and her—out of my head.
And that brings me to the main reason I wanted this job. The reason I’ve been stuck on this path ever since the worst day of my life.
I would doanythingto keep someone from being in my shoes.
I will keep going and going and going so that maybe,maybeI can save someone from having to live without their mom or dad.
I couldn’t be that person for that little girl today, but I’ll never stop trying.
CHAPTER NINETEEN
MATT
“How do you do that?”Alex squirts water into his mouth and drops heavily on the bench next to me, taking a breather during the commercial break.
“Do what?” I respond.
“Ignore these fuckers. They’re on you like goddamn rabid dogs and you don’t even look bothered.”
“I’m bothered,” I laugh. “But they’re just doing their job.”
“I mean, yeah, but don’t you want to defend yourself? Pretty sure you could take them.”
“If they’re able to get to me that easily, then they’re doing their job better than I’m doing mine.” I knock my padded leg against his and grab my own water. “It got easier over time for me.”
Alex sighs. “I don’t know, dude. I feel like you just have a long fuse.”
