Member-only story
It’s subtle. Ask any nurse — they will tell you — they didn’t even feel it for a lot of years. Or maybe some of the more sensitive ones did — who knows? But I didn’t. I was tough — hardened with my armor in place long before I walked into my first nursing class.
I remember when I interviewed at the facility I’ve worked at for the past twenty-five years. The man who would hire me (later that morning — in fact) said to me, “So — what happened to you? We all have a something — at least all the decent nurses do. A some-one-thing that turned us into caregivers early on. What’s yours?”
When I didn’t respond immediately — he shared this — “I’m a child of two alcoholic parents…”
I nodded — “Mother died when I was twelve.”
He smiled — “I knew it! All the good ones have “It”. And you have “It.”
What he meant was this — we have lost the psychological barrier which will maintain our own sense of self-preservation. We will lead ourselves to our own destruction to care for others. Lemmings to the cliff if need be. The ‘It’.
What The-Man-Who-Would-Become-My-Boss failed to mention was how heavy The ‘It’ was.
With each twelve-hour shift, with each missed lunch break, with each day off you are supposed to have — but you go into work because they called and they needed you — the weight of…
