Sunday, December 13, 2015
Here's your pillow.
But, in reality, I don't want to tell anyone about it. I don't really want to tell the Rickster. The details are too awful and I wish I didn't have it in my head. There's no need to force it into someone else's.
Thing is...not only is this now a memory I cannot ever hope to lose, within minutes of furiously working to save a life that was gone before it got to me, and which had just begun, I now have to just move on. I have to answer the next call light. Smile at the joke that my patient's husband just told me that I didn't even actually hear.
I'm meant to just clear out the room for the next belly pain or back pain x 1 year and more importantly, I'm meant to give a damn.
I somehow am meant to find some balance between caring and caring JUST ENOUGH that I can then walk away from a baby who has obviously faced constant abuse its entire little life and just casually make small talk with the gal who has an appointment with her GI doc for her IBS, but just.couldn't.wait. till tomorrow.
Because I actually am a human being and I'm not House or Dr. Cox, I can't just make a glib joke and move on about my day.
Sometimes, I just need to take a minute.