March 24, 2012
-
Training…day one…
It moves slowly. The fresh-faced young woman who is showing us step by step how to chart patient information on the new program points at the page projected on the wall. She’s not prepared for our department. She shows us how to chart information that we won’t be entering. She writes down questions about non-existent forms that we would need. She’ll get back with us.
After lunch, we are all dragging. The slow pace has us fighting the urge to doze off. Our instructor asks one of the night shift employees how many operations we do at night, and what kind of surgeries. C tosses her curls and smiles brightly, “At night, we do emergencies and trauma.” The instructor doesn’t really know what is meant by trauma, “You mean patients who come into the emergency room?” C launches into some of the more memorable cases she’s done over the years.
The instructor looks horrified. Soon we’re all trading tales about unfortunates who were shot, stabbed, run over by trains, ejected through windshields. One of the girls recounts a surgery she worked where the man attempted to commit suicide by blowing his brains out. The recoil of the weapon caused the path of the round to change, so he blew his face off.
“I don’t know how you do it,” the now green-faced instructor says, shaking her head, “I would be paralyzed with shock to see things that you work with.” C tells her that it’s not that we’ve become immune, but that we’re a different breed, “In surgery, the only ones who really thrive are the ones who can face the most horrific injuries and not be shocked into inactivity. We work with the most critical patients, and we stay calm. You don’t learn that. It must be part of you from the beginning.” We all nod. Many of us had backgrounds in critical care, but we were drawn to surgery. It’s an exclusive, mysterious, elite group of nurses. It hasn’t taken me long to prove my mettle with my new colleagues.
My thoughts wander to D for the briefest moment. He was always amazed at my work. He’ll be going out with the fair weathers tonight to celebrate his birthday. I’ll be attending the benefit. Then I’ll come home so that I can get to the training tomorrow morning. Then tomorrow night I’ll meet friends for dinner and drinks. D will have his whole weekend with his fair weathers. Another significant day not spent with me. One of my colleagues pats my arm, “You okay? You look a bit sad.” I assure her it’s nothing more than a headache.
Later, after we’ve badged out and we’re headed to our vehicles, I find myself walking alone. Angel me falls into step beside me and her hand feels warm on my shoulder. She doesn’t speak until we’re in my car, “ARE you okay? I know you’re wondering what it would be like to have someone actually want you around on a birthday or a holiday. You can’t let that happy asshole get under your skin when you’re working.” I nod. I’m okay, just sad. I’m also at loose ends. Do I send a birthday card? Do I walk away? Is he just acting the ass so he can go party with his friends, or is he pursuing someone new? Why do I have to be such a fool over someone like him? What the hell is wrong with me that I can’t kick myself in the ass and find someone who will love me and want to be with me?
I just need to get my head on straight. My thoughts are flying around like swifts chasing mosquitoes at dusk.
