I've decided the best part about going to work is coming home. Not because I don't like to go to work and all I can think about is coming home when I'm there. Because that's truly not the case. I absolutely love my job....no my profession. God blessed me when a certain friend introduced me to a certain Aunt Joni who let me shadow her one day. I was sold! I loved what I saw and couldn't wait to be one of them. A scrubs wearing, stethoscope toting, syringe wielding nurse!! And I've loved it from day one!
Don't get me wrong, most days are so
crazy that I feel like I don't know my head from my ass. Which is a good thing to know as a nurse.....I promise! And there are days like today when I want to scream multiple times throughout my shift.....at the doctors who keep coming and coming and writing and writing new orders; at the radiologist who will not read my xray and is holding up (like 6 hours holding up) starting tube feeding on a little old sweet as sugar grandma who needs her nutrition now PLEASE not 6 hours from now; at the lift team for not calling me back and making the same sweet little grandma continue to sit in her wheelchair for an extra hour because I'm not going to break my back or my fellow nurses backs transferring her back to bed; at said patient who will not stop whining about not feeling good yet continues to gobble down her food....for the love, where's the discharge order when you need one; not getting to sit down for the first six hours of your shift; at the poo that continues to spew....sorry for the visual!!
But then there's the accomplishment of getting out of bed for the first time after losing your leg above the knee; the great news that they were able to get all the cancer cut out; sweet grandma smiles and stories...oh the stories; teamwork....man are we one heck of a team on our unit; my manager suddenly appearing with the oatmeal I had mentioned I wanted to get from the cafeteria but knew I was never going to get the chance to break away and get; and the feeling of knowing you made a difference when you walk down that hallway at the end of the night, keys in hand, pony tail a little wild and scrubs a bit more wrinkled than when you walked in.
Even better than all that. The
best part of my day. Walking into my kitchen and getting the biggest hug my little man can give me. Hearing " I missed you Mommy!" and "How was your day today?". "Did you give out lots of hugs and medicine?". He can't stop wiggling and jumping with excitement. He jabbers nonstop for five minutes about everything
he did today. Not forgetting to tell me how baby brother was and when he cried and what he cried about. All the while, sharing handfuls of popcorn with me.
That is the best part of my day!