sometimes
"privilege" doesn't sound like the right word for my "job"-
but that word definitely doesn't sound right.
i get a paycheck every couple weeks, so it is indeed a job, but i love it way to much to call it
that. but there are times when no word
fits. if someone had taken a stroll
through the unit that night they would have seen people in scrubs doing what
most every other person in scrubs would do: meds, IVs, charting, cleaning,
smiling, moving, holding.
there are so many
pictures, posters, posts and blogs about what it means to be a nurse, one more
won't break the internet (i hope). i think every nurse has "that one"
shift, maybe a small handful of shifts, that is their defining shift, that captures
it all for them, that "lightbulb" moment where they realize what
nursing really, truly is and why they can still handle being a nurse. there are
many opinions of nurses, the majority of them positive- but for weird reasons,
like because of passing nursing school,
or because i make "so much" money, or because they can't
fathom starting tiny IVs or changing huge diapers, or hold a bucket for a
nauseated stranger and are glad someone else will, or because they or a family
member has been hospitalized and had a good, or at least expected- given the
situation-, experience. just about all of it is true- except for the "so
much money" thing (i don't know where that nonsense comes from), but none
of it has anything to do with how i feel about my job or how i define it.
the
"everyones" out there have their reasons based on the nurse they see.
good for them- their opinions are valid and appreciated.
but i have my own
reasons, and they're all based on the nurse they don't see.
the nurse you saw
last night successfully started a tiny IV in a tiny, wiggly scalp, cleaned up
puke at least half a dozen times, dosed out antibiotics and drew labs all over
the place.
...the nurse you
didn't see literally held a cranky kid's hand for 15 minutes so he would just
finally go to sleep because he felt like crap, skipped lunch, and helped code a
newborn while the parents slept upstairs, quickly, quietly, efficiently- at least
5 people working as one body with one mission: save this life.
the nurse you saw
helped a friend clean up after the code failed, paper, notes, packaging, pens,
equipment, trash. sweep the floor. wipe down the monitors. clean off, scrub
down, and set up the bed for the next admission.
...the nurse you
didn't see couldn't help the parents at all.
the nurse you saw
was laughing and cracking jokes about stupid, borderline insensitive, things as
the nurse she helped earlier helped her as she restarted yet another IV in the
puke-y kid for more medications.
...the nurse you
didn't see had to laugh about something because it was either that or just cry.
the nurse you saw
couldn't cry- at least not on the clock because the kids still needed to be fed
and cleaned up again- after puking up everything you just fed them 5 minutes
earlier.
...the nurse you
didn't see was still holding back the tears, because in a way she just lost a
child that night, too. nothing at all
compared to her parents- nowhere near it- but we lost, too.
the nurse you saw
didn't sit down for more than 5 minutes until 0628 exactly. (those three
5-minute segments were strategically placed bathroom breaks). literally every time she did sit down someone
somewhere needed her immediately.
...the nurse you
didn't see wasn't ever "there"- because she was always
"somewhere" else, or moving from "here" to
"there" and it was just more efficient to keep walking- or running-
than try to sit and chart.
the nurse you saw
clocking out was tired and dizzy and struggling with the whole spectrum of
emotions as well as a sudden drop of adrenaline, caffeine, and blood
glucose-all concurrently.
the nurse you didn't
see was driving well below the speed limit because she couldn't see. everything was blurry.
the nurse you saw,
and maybe were driving behind and trying to pass, was already a mess before the
shift.
the nurse you didn't
see-believe it or not- sometimes has a life outside the hospital and things
there were fraying at the edges before the shift started, so you can just imagine how
her face looked stopped at that red light. well, probably better not- it's not
pretty. she stayed in the car, parked in
the driveway, for another half hour to calm down, praying, thinking,
processing, crying it out, hoping the red eyes wouldn't attract attention from
the roommates, not having a word to offer as explanation.
the nurse you saw
did all those things you thought she did, and is at least as lucky as you think
she is- but not for the reasons you may have thought.
yeah, it's a job. a
job that takes up weekends, holidays, nights, hours on-call, late-night
take-out orders, phone calls and texts at 2 am, sore feet, headaches.
but it's more, and
completely different. i guess the super-spiritual, cool word to use would be
"calling." we are called because we love it, and we love it because
we are called to it. over and over and
over again, knowing that we are constantly one heartbeat away from having
another shift like this one.
it's more than a
privilege, even on those mind-blowingly wretched nights that threaten to beat
you down into the floor.
because those are
also the nights when our team of nurses would put Jack Bauer to shame. and because we were able to see the victory
on one side of the unit, even while dealing with a defeat on the other side. those victories are what make it so
worthwhile. seeing a patient hold down a feeding, gain a whole whopping 15
grams, breathe for himself, outgrow a preemie onesie- the things nobody else
spends a thought on- those are our victories and what i hold on to. there is sickness, disease, pain- a whole
fallen world plagued with sin and trauma- but i get to fight back, wielding
prayer and hemostats like weapons.
i can't explain it
any better without writing a book, but i also can't really think of anything
else i'd rather have done that Thursday night, or anywhere else to do it, or
anyone else to do it with, no matter what you call it or what you see of it. i
usually just call it "nursing."
