Humpty Dumpty

I cannot.  CANNOT.  Write a paper about a 16 month old with a rash (hello, SOAP notes) when this is what is on my mind tonight.  I'll finish the paper later.  I'll probably wish I wouldn't have stayed up so late.  But I don't care.  This is one of those times when work was hard and I need to do something and sift and sort, and this white screen with the blinking cursor is the only place that makes sense.

Something sad happened at work today.  Something you know happens far too often, but with all the failed attempts and threats you forget that some actually succeed.  Some people actually take their own life.  

image source

All the King's horses and all the King's men couldn't put Humpty together again. 

My coworkers and I worked calm-faced, professionally, diligently—knowing each of us was really thinking, "What the hell.  What the hell.  What the hell."  

You know what I think?  I think that even in the most horrific situations at work, we don't want to leave the room.  We don't want the code to be over.  We don't want the trauma to stop.  Because if it's actively happening, we are safely distanced in our heads using our brains and doing stuff.  And we know the second we walk out of that room we have to eventually think and feel feelings about what just happened and it is not fun.  Please hear me…when there is trauma or a code or something very serious…we are your people.  I'm your girl.  It's where we thrive and what we do best.  Those moments are when I'm the most proud and humbled to do my job.  I freaking love it.  We are well-oiled machines in the most organized-chaotic-mess you've ever seen.  But we are still human, and when we get home at night we remember our humanity.  

So today we did the "yeah…well…you good?" thing where we all say "yep.  I'm good."  then go about the rest of x amount of hours left in the shift like we're "good" when really we're all just waiting to get to our cars.  Even the chaplain stood silently in the room and said "...Are you all okay?" over the silence, looking at us with his kind eyes, and we all said "yeah!" while we just kept scrubbing and scrubbing and scrubbing up blood like if we stopped scrubbing we wouldn't know what else to do.  Scrub the bed.  Scrub the floors.  Like, 3 times each.  Just to be sure.  A few of us just obsessively scrubbing.  To think about it now it is a little funny...we probably have never looked so dedicated.  But in that moment it was our sanity.  We just needed to do something still.  I think we all felt so helpless which is the worst feeling ever so we just kept scrubbing those damn floors.  Scrubbed the bed.  Scrubbed the cords.  Scrubbed the floors one more time in that one spot just to be sure…again.  I think I cleaned the patient's face at least 3 times.  It was clean the first time, but I kept thinking "I wish I could keep scrubbing and put you back together again."  I wondered if that is what all the King's horses and all the King's men felt like. 

What I never told anyone the rest of the shift was that I still kept feeling the sensation of brain matter and blood coming from places it shouldn't pooling in my hands.  And the way we kept wiping it up like that was going to do something.  It felt helpless and feeble.  Yikes.  This is the part you're like…I can't believe she's saying that.  Listen, I wasn't running around all hysterically wiping my hands and telling my coworkers that I felt like I couldn't get the freaking brain matter off.  I knew it was off.  It was more like me just kinda squinting every now and then, wiggling my fingers and clenching my hands a little, thinking "ummm I keep feeling phantom brain matter on my hands.  Am I having a psychotic break right now? Because I can't have a psychotic break until after 7pm."  Also, "phantom brain matter" is a phrase I literally never thought I would say (nor do I ever care to again).   And I feel like I should feel weak and like a shitty ER nurse for still thinking about it or even writing this but, man, I swear I will be compulsively honest and maybe a little too vulnerable until the day I die.  It is the best and worst thing about me.  

But y'all, today was hard for us.  Most of us will never admit it and we will say it's just our job.  And yes, it is, but sometimes our job is sad.  And sometimes I can't talk about it face to face so I write because it's the only thing that makes sense.  It's the only thing I can do.

Some evenings when I'm driving home from work, I'll find myself exiting a couple miles early to sit by the lake for awhile.  Sometimes it's been a really good day and I want to sit and be thankful.  Sometimes it's been a really bad day and I want to sit and be still...invite all the things I held on to that shift to sit, too.  So today I sat still near the water for awhile and promised that I'd pay more attention to people around me and be honest and love deeply.  I also happened to sit on an ant pile of whatever kind of ants bite, so I promised that next time I'd sit on a bench.

I cannot believe I'm writing this and will most likely post it for all of you to read.  But I know someone out there had a really bad shift and they need to hear, "Me too."  Maybe it's one of my coworkers.  Maybe someone I've never met.

So, me too.