I'm No Angel
I sit here starting at a blank computer screen, filled with quiet
concern. It's simply that I have so many things to say to about the
nineteen million and counting nurses across the planet, and not enough
time in the world to say it. They are my team. They are my posse. They
are my family -- an utterly dysfunctional one, but family at that. I
believe that few professions exist where colleagues can be grossly
irritated by each other one moment, and cracking jokes in the next. It
has been mentioned before that what we do every day makes us akin to the
"Navy Seals" of the healthcare profession. That statement alone
suggests that nurses work in some of the most stressful environments
while enduring more intense circumstances daily than many face in a
lifetime. What we do, every single day, is a labor of love. But we are
all in on the real secret: nurses are not angels placed on earth to
serve and lift. We are not diminutive and submissive and gentle souls
that kiss boo-boos. We are not the starched white caps and perfectly
polished shoes that history books portray. Nor are we fishnet stockings
and naughty rendezvous in dark corners. We have been glamorized and
fetishized and placed on a pedestal unlike any other profession, and yet
the definition of what we are is only surpassed by the list of what we
are not.
Our Dirty Little Secret
Many will never understand the extent of what we do every single
shift. They can only imagine that it's a difficult profession (though
they might never feel the weight of our feet, the ache in our backs, and
the pain in our hearts at the end of it all). Some will say, "I wanted
to be a nurse, but I could never do it." We smile and say something
along the lines of, "Yup, it's a hard job but a good one," without a
second thought, understanding that most people truly couldn't endure
what we face every single day. Others might tell us how intelligent we
are, and insist we attend medical school to become doctors. As much as
we respect physicians, most of us don't want to become them. The
connections we make and the difference we incite in our patients lives
are worth the countless pitfalls and sacrifices we face.
None of them are in on our secret. Patients and families; husbands
and wives; parents and children and colleagues and friends: because
while they try, they will never understand the depth and breadth of mind
and body required of a nurse. Some might question that statement --
how hard could it really be? Isn't it only three shifts every week? Don't you earn overtime and receive bonuses every year?
It's harder than they could ever imagine. It's more raw and real than
they could ever dream. Yet when something truly incredible happens, and
we get to be a part of it, nursing becomes a drug unlike any other.
What a miracle! Families will shout.
The work of modern medicine! Physicians will declare.
And yet those who are in on the secret, or at least are suspicious of
it, understand that it was no miracle that saved your loved one.
Rather, it was the intent and vigilant care of a critically thinking,
intuitive, and fiercely devoted nurse. Our secret is that we save more
lives than we are willing to admit; we catch more errors than we hope to
share; and we can sense subtle nuances that prevent a turn for the
worse. The nursing profession is oft touted as a humble one -- a life of
service to others through altruistic compassion. Yet here we are, with
our dirty little secret: our filthy mouths; our dark humor and sarcastic
sensibilities; snarky and sassy and smart -- can you sense that? Oh
no, we are not all nuns in nurses' clothing! We can be vicious. We can
be vile. We can devour our young and destroy our reputations -- we are
not the perfect pictures you had envisioned - far from it.
We Are Human
We are human. We make mistakes. We pick fights. We become emotional.
And we must. Because every single day we grapple with our own
identities, not only as men and women but also as nurses -- defined by a
role that we wear as a badge of honor, yet has the potential to become a
Scarlet Letter. We are in a constant state of battle: with the
establishment; with disease; with matters of life and death; with our
coworkers and our families and ourselves. What we take on when we clock
in every morning or evening is far more powerful than just a job -- it
is a struggle to give 99 percent of your being to others while never
releasing that final one percent of yourself. We are human. We are not
infallible. We drink too much. We smoke too much. We eat candy bars
for dinner. We take it out on you because there is nobody else to punch
with our sack full of baggage. We are in one of the few businesses where
an emergency is genuinely and truly an emergency -- everything else is
just details.
And so while we apologize for our shortcomings; and we
are sorry for our attitudes; and we hope to evolve into more
compassionate and patient people everyday -- we make no apologies about
being nurses. Take us as we are, all of us -- the beauty, the burdens
-- every ounce of us, because we did not choose to be this way. Somehow,
even if you fight against it, becoming a nurse will find you. It will
seep into the marrow of your bones. It will sink into your soul. You
will sacrifice parts of your own being to protect perfect strangers, and
it will feel like a totally rational thing to do.
It is not rational. It borders on crazy. We're all a touch too
neurotic; a smidgen too type-A; a little too caring and bit too
self-invested. I walked away from a nine-to-five corporate career to
pursue what was calling me. I ignored it, I fought it, but the nurse
stirred from within and enveloped herself around me. And now? I will
never be the same. I border on crazy. I'm slightly irrational. I'm
absolutely neurotic. I'm completely invested. I'm a woman. I'm a wife.
I'm a daughter. I'm a friend. But through it all, I am unapologetically a
nurse.
Read More:
http://www.huffingtonpost.com/sonja-mitrevskaschwartzbach-bsn-rn-ccrn/unapologetically-a-nurse_b_7990548.html
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