Im a weird kid, I could belong in a lot of places, but stay an outsider most of the time and nursing was no different. I considered it one of my proudest moments, practicing my profession. To be employed as a nurse was the first step to bigger things in the future, a future of course involving a salary that would buy big things. I never saw it that way though; thinking of the future made me twitchy, what hasn’t happened yet would only mean something to me when I actually get there. Nursing was my passion, I hated taking care of other people, but I usually find myself doing it well. I wanted something easy, but nursing buried me with mass quantities of information and intricate skills, but the deeper I sank, the harder I swam. And four years and a board exam later, I was a full fledged nurse. Then came my first nursing job, I was employed as a CCU-ICU staff nurse. The first few days were fine, my work area I consider the proving ground for all would-be RN’s. I loved it; death at a moments notice, the work was nothing short of brutal. It was a job that spanned long after the eight hour shift. I tasted it when i ate, dreamt it when i slept, and it ran through my veins before I knew it. It wasn’t all fun and games; I was embarrassed countless times and ridiculed by the people who were supposed to guide me and every mistake I made was made a statement of my character, my questions only seemed to fan the flames. I never forgot their words til’ this day. Yeah, they were sh*t heads, I never bothered knowing them outside of work. I wanted to separate myself from what I hated, putting as much distance as I can when im not working. It was like being raped emotionally, and I just let them do it everyday, and I was turning into a whore, because other people and part of myself, is telling me to like it. Often times after shift, id go to the nearby church to cry a little and pray for these people but it didn’t take the taste of shame out of my mouth. Even after all that, I wanted to stay, after all it was work, and it was a job.
One day I noticed that when I did well or made mistakes when I worked I felt nothing. The praise or scolding that came seemed to lose meaning It was a numbing feeling that haunted me wherever I went and whatever I did. It was apathy, like a cancer it crept inside of me and now piecing me apart. Food didn’t taste as good, I laughed less loudly, didn’t enjoy the long walks, found nothing beautiful anymore, was always uneasy, and I wasn’t able to write compositions. I had lost myself, because my work had inevitably consumed me. I wasn’t sad, I didn’t miss my old self, I imagined that this must be what a prostitute felt after whoring for a long time; perpetual numbness and a drowning shallow existence. My epiphany came when I saw myself in the mirror, I had aged, my eyes were as a blank stare, sunken cheeks, unkempt hair, I had turned myself into a stranger. I realized I had lost everything, there was no guilt, after all this is what everyone turns to eventually, but that thought only made the burden harder to bear. Money or titles can never guarantee happiness; I was so miserable because of what was taken away from me and the fact that it took me this long to realize it. Now, I was no different from the people im taking care of, I my not have tubes stuck in my mouth or a ventilator to breathe for me but I was fighting for my life, my essence, my soul, and it was a losing battle.
The smell of death and suffering always left a trace and no amount of cleaning and bathing could erase the scent, it was crawling under my skin and I took it everywhere. I loved nursing, but each day even as I grew proficient working, a part of me hated it. This was nursing and each day I became more of a nurse and the feeling of hate flourished with it. I hate being around death so much, I hate some of my sh*t head co-staff, I hate having to give up doing the things I love, and everyday I got to thinking if I hate nursing itself as well. I was sad when I thought of myself then, but I was overcome with a silent agony every time I thought of what I would be tomorrow.
It’s hard to imagine paying someone to be around the sick and dying, and ironically, dying inside a little each day is part of what I do for a living. Ever since my first day on the job, I found myself praying more. Stopping at the church beside my hospital became routine before I went home. Perhaps it was despair or just looking for answers like always but I always felt better after every visit. Working in mysterious ways is always taken into context and eventually I was growing to accept my fate or just giving in to despair. Then I believe that the events that took place next were truly an act of God.
My overseas, nursing career was in crisis, it was on the verge of destruction without me even doing anything, and I would just be left with that dream in my head. Long story short, The local board had to be retaken and passed, with a US license at stake. Everything was starting to lose sense personally at that point, this was just the cherry to the perfect sh*t sundae. Hey, this job was technically killing me so why stop when I’m not dead yet. Even though I’d accumulated so much remorse and hatred for this job, I was quite hesitant about my options, quit the job, take the exam and pass, or remain, take the exam and surely fail, no there is no third option for me, I know what I can do, and gambling a losing bet is just stupid. But nursing is like a prodigal son to me, sure you can take away everything in my life I enjoy and just replace it with trophies of experience and even scraps of money, yes that should be enough, but I had developed a blind devotion to it, and id always hope that by some miracle it would magically come back. It was once my passion, and even though it turned into something I abhorred and lost love for it, part of me desperately wanted it back. But even so, with a lot of people urging me to stay and a part of myself also wanted to stay, I still resigned. My last duty was uneventful, it was a nightshift and work was light. Morning came and i punched my time card the last time, one of my co-staff bid me farewell, I expressed my gratitude and it was again a proud moment for me, even though I was walking away from what I had worked so hard to achieve. Stepping out the door I saw the morning light again for the first time, it burned my eyes but it was beautiful.
--graydarksoul--
