Irony

I'm sitting here with a glass of wine after trying to calm my thoughts enough to fall asleep. Eventually I realized there was too much on my mind and gave up...so I'm typing out my thoughts as they tumble out. Another 12 hour shift in the ER. I love it as much as I did last week, if not more. It's challenging, and I'm learning something new every day. I am a "newbie". I may have been a nurse longer than some of the other nurses, but this is different world. I feel silly asking some of my questions, but I'd rather appear silly than be the one to make a fatal mistake. I've never hung IV fluids without a pump. What do you mean I can just let it hang and it'll infuse? I don't have to worry about the air? I don't say these out loud, but the other nurses understand where I'm coming from and are quick to answer my unspoken questions.

I like helping people, and making them feel better. I like watching the kids bounce down the hall, headed towards the Exit, feeling better now with whatever we did for them. My biggest fear is that I will become one of those jaded ER nurses that doesn't care...just going through the motions.

It seemed like there was a lot of tragedy in the ER today; people falling, coming in unresponsive, crying family members spilling into the halls, consoling each other. It's morbid, but each time I can't help but wonder, when is it my turn? Why haven't I lost anyone close to me? The only experience I really have with death of a loved one is my cat, when I was seven. Losing a parent, a spouse, or God forbid, a child...I can't really imagine. So I just make a mental note to myself to not take those simple moments for granted. Crochet in the backyard. Football games on Sundays. Poker games on holidays. You really never know when tragedy is around the corner.

I had a patient who came in, drunk and in pain. He tried marijuana, and alcohol, and finally four ibuprofen but that darned pain from his recent SDH and back injury just wasn't going away. He had just been discharged from us a few days ago, to the homeless shelter. He admitted he was an alcoholic, and his sadness saddened me. I never felt judgmental; I just wished that he would realize he does have the power to make better choices for himself, to get some help for the drinking, and that he does have the power to turn his life around. He was weighing on my mind so heavily tonight, and I realize that I'm sitting here drinking wine, thinking about this guy with an alcohol problem, and it's ironic.

Ten year class reunion is coming up. I dreamed about it last night. Kinda like going through graduation again, only not knowing hardly anyone. At the party afterwards, and there's gigantic pie slices that are too big to eat and huge machines falling from the sky, squashing people who don't watch out. I made it one of my New Year's resolutions to go, and as apprehensive as I am, I guess I'll go. I hate feeling like I never really fit in, but if Nate is willing to go with me, why not. The whole thing just makes me feel old.

I am proud of where I'm at with my life. I'm married to a good guy, who takes care of my son and loves me. I have a job that I'm excited to go to in the morning. I think I'm doing okay.