For starters, there is the upcoming surgery on the first of February. Say what!?! How can it only be three weeks away? I've been talking about this thing for a better part of the last year. How can it be only three weeks away? I think that I've been thinking about it for so long that I've almost convinced myself that it was never actually going to happen; as if it's become that thing you just always talk about. I'm nervous and hopeful, all bundled up together. Hopeful it will be the final surgery. Nervous that is won't work. Scared that something might go wrong. Apprehensive because I know it's going to cause me a fair bit of pain. And maybe just a tiny bit excited to be able to show of my angry-bird crutches again.
Then there's the actual pain my leg has been causing. I've noticed the number of shifts I am accepting at work is dwindling. When I started at my current job last September, I was working full time. Over the last few weeks, however, I've gone from accepting roughly thirty-six hours of work a week to as little as twelve. I'm working my first shift of the week tonight. Last week I also only worked one shift. The week before, however, I worked three shifts (thirty-six hours). I want nothing more than to work, but I'm slowing down. My body just can't keep up at the moment. Twelve hours of standing on my leg is just too much. Not only is there the physical aspect of things, but also a mental one. I want to be able to work. I am young and I make good money. I want nothing more to be able to work as hard as possible so I can save as much as I possible can. But at the moment that's not possible. There is a huge internal struggle between what I want to do and what I actually can do, what my body will physically let me do. There's this disconnect and it's hard to deal with.
Add to that the constant changes between day and night shift. I'm finding it pretty difficult to go between the two at the moment. I'm sure this is compounded by how tired I am and how much my leg hurts most of the time, but at the end of the day it's not natural to do that to your body. Literally, your body is not meant to work a day shift and then, twenty-four hours later, work a night shift The part-time and full-time employees at least have some consistency - two weeks of days followed by two weeks of nights, then rinse and repeat. But my work schedule is all over the place. And I don't know most of my shifts in advance. Work will just call an hour and a half before a shift begins and ask if I want to come in. So there is no consistency at all. My coworkers say I should be able to handle it because I am young, but it wears you down after a while.
And the biggest problem (at least in my opinion) - the lack of appreciation. I'm going to use the holidays as an example for this. I gave up spending Christmas with my family in order to work. Working the holidays comes part and parcel with being a nurse. I understand that. I'm not looking for constant gratitude from my patients or their family members. I became a nurse because I want to help people and I new in advance that a lot of nurses don't receive the recognition that they deserve. But not a single patient or any of their family members thanked me for working the holidays. Not one. This is how I started my shift on Christmas: "My husband has diarrhea. Does that mean he is going to die?" Yeah. That's how I started the shift. And it was a horrible shift - I didn't get a single break. And that's just one example. For all the talk in the news about how overburdened and short staffed health care is a the moment and the health care crisis to come with the aging baby boomers, a lot of people are surprisingly clueless. I hear the words "Oh, I'm not your only patient?" way more often than I should. That's right. I have patients who actually think I am there to provide personal one-on-one care. Being a nurse on a busy oncology/medicine/palliative care unit is like being a rubber band, stretched every which way. There are a million important things that have to get done; everyone is vying for your attention. It's exhausting. The twelve hours are grueling. I often don't get my breaks and sometimes I don't even get to go to the bathroom. And I work rotating shifts and holidays. So please, for the love all things soft and polka-dotted, don't corner a nurse at the start of her shift on Christmas and let the firs thing you say be "My husband has diarrhea. Does that mean he's dying?" Please wish your nurse a Merry Christmas first. She's given that day with her family up to take care of yours.
To top it all off, I've just had rotten luck getting sick. Some how, this twenty-five year old ended up with shingles in December. How did I get shingles at that age? I have no clue. What I do know is that it sucked and, no matter how cliche it is to say, that I wouldn't wish it on my worst enemy. I don't know if I'm experiencing the aftermath of shingles right now, or if I've come down with some new viral thing, but I've been sick for the better part of this week. I am exhausted. This girl is sleeping a solid ten to twelve hours a night and she's still tied.
So I've been struggling with some stuff at the moment - upcoming surgery, pain, work and under appreciation, rotating shifts, being sick. Basically all the things I normally deal with, a little bit at a time, but right now all jumbled into one big ball of tired and sore and sick and plain old blah, making it difficult to cope with any of the things I normally cope with quite well. I am hopeful that I will feel much better when this nonsense with my leg is finally sorted, which should result in a lot less pain (maybe even none? Fingers crossed!) and an abundance of energy. Until then, I just have to keep myself occupied until surgery. I've been doing lots of crafty things and reading like the bibliophile I am. My manager called this afternoon to ask if I want a night shift in the emergency department, which I have accepted. And, weather permitting, I'm going to the ROM on Saturday to see the viking exhibit!
Little owl I stitched by hand this week. Hoot hoot!
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