Yesterday was one of those days I just needed.
I’ve talked before about hospital fatigue in a previous post and how it can push a person close to their breaking point. Some days hit harder than others. I’ve been at a 10 before (sorry doctors and nurses at MOBAP), a few 8’s along the way. Yesterday morning was probably a 7. A lot of it comes down to disrupted plans, unexpected changes, hopeful expectations that don’t pan out. The hospital keeps you on your toes, no doubt.
But like Sarah mentioned in her post yesterday, timing has a way of stepping in and changing direction like a car switching lanes. A move to a different floor. Seeing my girls. And once I got there, the rest of the day felt different. Lighter. No wires for the time being. Freedom to move, to walk the halls, to shower. Man, what a feeling. Thanks for the messages, thoughts, visits, and prayers. They’re felt.
Today was okay. Not as magical as last night, but that’s alright. Not every day has to be a home run. I’ve always been built more like a fullback. I’m not out here Mossin’ anyone. I’m a head down, grind it out, three yards at a time kind of guy. Just keep moving the chains. First downs, one after another, and eventually you find the paint. With your team…
Last night, I walked down to the corner glass room they have on each floor. It overlooks the city, Forest Park, everything in between. You can see for miles, the kind of view that makes you pause. One of my nurses from a previous stay was down there. We recognized each other and started talking. Let’s call her “Rachel.”
She was wrapping up charting on a portable computer, finishing a 12 hour shift that had stretched into 15, and she was due back at 7 a.m. the next morning (today). I’ve noticed that’s not unusual. She looked worn down, beat up, emotionally drained, frustrated. And the thing is, she’s one of the best nurses I’ve had. Caring, present, comforting, the kind of person you hope is in your corner when you’re at your worst. She’s been doing this for 6 years and even mentioned maybe going a different direction someday. What a shame that would be.
Oh, if my life rode on a ship
I've chase down some hurricanes
We'd have stories once
Those howling winds had passed
And if I wanted my whole life
To be laid out in black and white
I'd have turned my weathered sails
Some time ago
But I stayed steady on that stream
With river rocks and gasoline
Bumping curbs on every turn
We would make
The friends we made and lovers past
Bail bond loans and Sunday Mass
They have opened up
A newer life to me
Well, what a shame, a crying shame
Nine to five, it's all the same
But you won't take those wasted hours
To your grave
And oh, good God don't rest my soul
And let myself fall to a fold
I'm still running and a racing
Wishing on a fallen star
If I'd love the Lord by
Singing loud 'til they turn out your very last light
When you're gone
What do you have but the song you sang?
And there ain't no one to kill me back
I can't change my ways once I felt like that
If I'd have won
In a life full of memories
What a shame, a crying shame
Nine to five it's all the same
But you won't take those wasted hours
To your grave
And as I watch my hour glass
Grains of sand are like days of past
Brace the storm, this is your love
Your life, your task - Shane Smith & The Saints
Because the truth is, it’s not really a secret anymore. Our major systems are flawed. There’s too much demand on them, they are overloaded, stretched thin, hanging on by strings. There are probably a hundred reasons why – you likely have your own opinions on it. Underfunding, lack of appreciation, unrealistic expectations, mismanagement, bureaucracy, greed, thirst for power and control. The list goes on. Education, healthcare, justice, politics, economy, finance, social system, transportation, military, corrections, environmental systems, media. You can feel it. I see it in my own home, in mental health and education, where the demand alone is often too much to bear.
And yet, these systems are still standing. Not because they’re developed and functioning perfectly, but because they’re being propped up by all the “Rachels” of the country. The ones on the front lines, giving their time, their energy, their patience, their heart because they care. It’s the teacher with Johnny in the class who struggles with behaviors, trying to meet his needs while still showing up for the 20 others in class. It’s the nurse finishing a 12 hour shift, still carrying the weight of every patient she couldn’t save. It’s the officer responding to a call, making a split second decision that will be judged for years. It’s the judge and attorneys staring at a case file, knowing no outcome will feel completely just and right. It’s the small business owner deciding whether to pay themselves or their employees. It’s the factory worker checking the schedule, hoping there are enough hours to cover rent. It’s the financial advisor helping someone plan their future, knowing one wrong move could cost them years because of greedy market manipulation. It’s the social worker knocking on a door in the middle of the night in a bad neighborhood, not knowing what’s on the other side, other than a child that needs help. It’s the soldier missing birthdays and milestones, carrying both duty and distance, and sometimes decisions that don’t sit easy. It’s the correctional officer walking the line, always aware of how quickly things can turn. It’s the environmental advocate pushing for change, knowing time is short and progress is slow. It’s the journalist hitting publish, hoping they got it right in a world full of noise.
Last night’s sunset was one of the most beautiful I’ve ever seen. It nearly brought me to tears. This morning started with rain, then storms, even a false tornado alarm, and now the sun again. Maybe that’s just how it goes. Weathering it all with the love of others and learning, somehow, to find the light, even when it’s hard to see.
To all the “Rachel’s” out there…this one’s for you!
“Darkness cannot drive out darkness; only light can do that. Hate cannot drive out hate; only love can do that.” - Martin Luther King Jr.
The Barn 